“Tea’d be great,” she says, clocking that perked interest and favouring Manfred with an easy smile. As for Nuggalope— she plonks his case beside her on top of her trunk where she sits, finding herself a seat that looks out of the way of immediate packing chaos, patting the top,

“And, yeah, mostly. It was tricky to put my hands on all the pieces I’d need — generally the folks preserving animal skeletons want to hang onto them, you know — so there was a good amount of raccoon from the start, and I’ve had to get creative with repairs a few times. But you’re mostly cat, aren’t you, you little bruiser?”

A horrendous grinding sound emerges from the case. Nuggalope is purring.