4chan stared at him as he talked- seemingly blank, but trying very hard to understand what it was the psychopomp next to him was going on about. It came naturally to 4chan- memes, what they did and what they were. He visualized them something like pets- or toys. Toys that weren't really his, but toys that he felt entitled to- toys he didn't want to see other people using the wrong way or using too much. It was natural to feel possessive over them, they'd come from his userbase, his people. Asbestos, who decided that right now would be a great time to leap off of his lap, sprung onto the floor- and, tail waving, sauntered into the kitchen- potentially to use the litter box.
"I don't know. I don't want them being used by anyone outside of 4chan when they start. But when people use them wrong, it really bothers me. I know they aren't mine, but I-" he sunk down onto the couch, suddenly on his stomach, and a whole lot closer to the other man than he'd been in the first place, sort of gazing up at him from his flopped-over position.
"There are rules, man. I don't like it when people mess with the rules."