"Mmhm," the boy murmurs. He crosses his legs with the quiet groan of the heavily bruised, and strips of his wet socks. One of his ankles is a bit swollen, though it'll go away in the morning. Probably.

Autor toys, briefly, with the idea of explaining that he knows who Rodolphus was both from books and otherwise--and how he tortured the cat. Bijou, a young child's only friend.

"I'm sure."