"One day, hopefully later today, there's going to be a roof over your head when you sit there," April tells her. "I don't know why I'm telling you this."

(An amused snort from the kitchen.)

Pippi continues to peer through the porthole. Eventually, she jumps through, brushes past April's ankles, and pads back over to the construction to see what else it has in store for her. Mostly this involves climbing around on the half-completed structure. 

April yawns and hauls herself off the ground to stagger over to the kitchen and sit down at the kitchen table. "I'm glad you like your pirate ship," she says to Pippi on her way past. "Stay tuned for more shenanigans as soon as I feel human again." Half to herself, she adds musingly, "Is it weird to say 'feel human again' to a cat?"

Pippi hops down after a half a minute and follows after April and Daisy. When she sees April collapsed at the kitchen table, she goes over to her to rub against her shins appreciatively. 

"Hey you."

Pippi meows in response and looks up at her. Does her lap look like it would be accepting of a cozy bundle of fur and muscle? 

Debatable. She's a little too flopped over the table to have much room in her lap at the moment.

Well then, instead of climbing onto her lap, Pippi jumps up onto the table from a nearby chair, and brushes up against her face and arms, which are conveniently on the table for her to rub up against. While purring. 

"That's my face," she half-jokingly complains. "Pffpllffpfpff." But she straightens partway up to get her face out of the fluff and lifts a hand off the table to pet the cat.

Pippi will curl up on the table and accept April's pets. There may also be more purring. 

"Daisy, help, my cat won't stop being adorable."

Daisy rolls her eyes and pours the tea.

"Guess I'm on my own." She gives Pippi a nudge. "You're gonna have to get off the table now, I need to not spill boiling water on you."

Pippi looks at her petulantly for a few moments, then hops down off the table and heads over the the water bowl to have a drink of her own, and have some of the kibble while she's over there as well. 

"Thank you."

"I swear you have the politest cat I've ever met. Half the time if I want a cat on the floor I have to throw the little gremlin myself."

"Oh my god, Daisy, don't throw cats,"

"Not literally throw. ...most of the time."

Pippi is over here eating and not understanding anything about this horrendous violence to cats. (Cats can land on their feet just fine, so it isn't actually a problem but Pippi would certainly act offended if she could understand. But she can't understand human speech, being a cat, so she continues to eat a few more bites of kibble.) 

She shakes her head and sips her tea.

After a short snack, Pippi goes and rubs up against Daisy's legs, cuddly and softly purring. 

"What a cutie. You're a fuzzy little cutie, yes you are. —See, now I feel self-conscious about talking to your cat like she's a baby instead of like she's your small fluffy roommate."

Given that Pippi is a cat that can't understand speech, she responds to the baby talk the same way she responds to April -- which is to say, she ignores it and continues to rub up against Daisy's legs. 

"At least the cat still likes me."