Re: Log: Miles W + Damian W Camus. Damian did not blink as he assisted the female kitten into the carrier (the outward appearance of which meant nothing to him). It was a token of popular culture, and while such could be another informational source, Damian did not idly partake of such. "I find Camus overwrought," was his response to the man. Kantian philosophy, aesthetically, was more sensical to Damian. Too, the would-be philosopher's sense of ethics was God-facing. He did have a lucid notion or two, however, and Damian would concede to this. "One must suffer into truth." The squirming kitten mewled up at them from the shallow darkness of the carrier. Damian reached in without forethought to stroke her, brow to nose.
He then set to extracting the male from its perch upon his shoulders. Claw by claw, and gently so. Damian did not seem to take much interest, or sympathy, to this man's sister's infertility. It seemed an odd catalyst for kitten acquisition, but, the rationale of other people tended to be a curious, contrary thing to Damian's mind. He looked upward again, as he held the kitten, whose ears had turned toward his sister's cries, just below, in some abyss he did not see coming. "I see." Damian said of the sister.—With the incogitable resources to which Damian had unfettered access, he could discover nearly anything about any person he might choose to investigate. He had not done this to this man, Miles; though, the peculiar manner in which he spoke of his proclaimed sister did begin to percolate in Damian's mind.
The man Miles sneezed. Damian did not react. The kitten, however, turned itself about in sure grip in a spasm of fear, and Damian took mercy upon it. Brother joined sister. They sniffed each other, tails high as exclamation points. Damian withdrew his hands, though he did not place them anywhere away. "She must ask you for permission?" A blink, finally. "She is not so irresponsible, is she?"