She couldn't help the slight expression of surprise when Samantha admitted her date. She knew there were people from that far back -- and farther -- but it was still a little surprising to hear. "I ... know," she said. It wasn't what she'd been starting out to say, but it didn't seem worth trying to explain that 'friends' wasn't really a word in her vocabulary at home.
But that was her father's fault. Her father kept them like that. Her father had enforced it all. If Will was here, she was sure they'd be making all kinds of friends, but ... he wasn't, and on her own she was floundering. "There are ... a few people," she assured Samantha.
She watched the kitten, still not completely sure what had prompted her to pick the thing up, but ... she had. And now it was her responsibility. "Good," she admitted, wondering if she was going to turn into some sort of fretful mother hen, panicking every time the kitten did something strange that might be unusual. She was sure she'd get to know Misty Snowflake eventually and be able to tell normal from not-normal, but ... she wasn't there yet.
"She's a survivor," Sylvia said quietly. "And I guess she must be smart." Though Sylvia supposed she could just have been constantly crying and Sylvia had only heard it when she had. But she liked to think the kitten had heard her and then started crying.