Since he is not purchasing any of the Vault's fine wares today, Caleb greets their clerk with a flat-handed wave and a noise that sounds remarkably like 'sup,' because...it is; it takes being a Bro of certain demeanor and upbringing to pull that off comfortably.
Out on the sidewalk he squints into the mugginess of the late afternoon and pushes at the edge of one shirtsleeve like he might shove the fabric up his arm; while it's definitely hot enough to do so he ends up hooking his thumbs back into his beltloops instead. "Chloe eats...you know, brown cat food, I hope Mr. Darcy is cool with that."
He's lying, of course, and it is obvious; he totally knows what brand it is, and it was carefully selected for a cat of her age as recommended for maximum health of teeth and glow of coat. "Anyway, I think even your sister'd be okay if she'd been to the frosh dorms 's many times as I have. If you were planning to draw me a map or something cool like that, though, pretend I didn't say anything."