"You're funny," she deadpanned before she turned away and flipped him off. What would she do with a cat? Her face twisted in a grimace as Bart persisted, arms open in question while the fleabag made himself at home on her lap. This was weird, she didn't bloody like it. It couldn't be her pheromones could it? "Alright that's, hi, that's enough, cat." Utterly bewildered, Jessica reluctantly picked the cat up, after struggling to detach his claws from her jeans, what is happening?, and handed him over to his owner. "You should probably get him checked out," she advised, grumbling into her glass.