"Ah," his tone suggests he knows that particular type of human-animal dynamic. The stone swordsman in dusty, travel-worn white keeps an eye on the masked man in black as they search on their way towards the couch. Though this person has given no sign of threat apart from the innate connotations of mask-wearing, Zelgadis finds it difficult to be completely at ease with someone whose eyes he cannot see. "I imagine it deserves the name. Let's try and flush dear little Shithead from his hiding-place."

Upon reaching the couch, Zel goes to the far side of it before kneeling down alongside. The sound of his knee meeting the floor boards is cloth-muffled stone against wood, and, however careful he is, causes the board directly below to creak slightly. He leans down, peering under the couch and fluttering the fingers of one gloved hand. "Here, kitty-kitty," oh how he hates having to say such an inane thing, but the universal call for a strange cat to come closer is just that: universal.