Pippi hops up onto the desk, and presses a button, which turns the monitor on. She presses buttons on the keyboard with all four of her feet, and the letters she type spell out words, which appear on the monitor for April to see. 

HELLO, APRIL. SORRY ABOUT YOUR HOUSE. WELCOME TO MY OTHER HOME. I HAVE A ROOM WAITING FOR YOU UPSTAIRS. 

"I claim no credit for talking to you like a human this whole time, I had no idea, I'm just deficient in cats."

ON THE CONTRARY, YOU WERE AN EXCELLENT ROOMATE. NOT DEFICENT AT ALL. AND I APPRECIATED YOU TALKING TO ME LIKE A PERSON. IT WAS HELPFUL. 

"Okay. So... what's the story? I have noticed that Uncle Jake probably didn't make all that money in the parking garage business. Did he, what, send you to keep an eye on me? Why me specifically? I guess I am his only niece, but like... he could have just spoken to my mother at any point in the last couple decades... I guess unless he was afraid that having any contact with his family would invite the attention of the people who blew up my house."

I WAS SENT TO KEEP AN EYE ON YOU, YES. MORRISON CAN SPEAK MORE TO THE SOCIAL SITUATION, WHEN SHE ARRIVES. SPEAKING OF WHICH, I SHOULD LET HER KNOW YOU'RE SAFE. GIVE ME A MINUTE. 

Pippi presses another button on the keyboard, and another window opens up, one that looks suspiciously like an email window. She puts an email address into it that starts with "MMORRISON" at the top, though it changes to her full name faster than April can see the domain at the end. 

SHE'S HERE, SHE'S SAFE.

Pippi writes in the body, and then sends the email. 

"Soooo she could totally have guessed what was going to happen at Uncle Jake's funeral, and she didn't tell me. Yeah?"

WHAT HAPPENED AT THE FUNERAL? 

"I had to get between Uncle Jake and some huge dude with a knife who wanted to stab him. I was pretty pissed about it. Then as soon as somebody verified to everyone else's satisfaction that Uncle Jake was actually dead, they all left."

OH. 

I DON'T THINK MORRISON EXPECTED THE GUY WITH THE KNIFE. I'M GLAD YOU'RE OK THOUGH. 

"What about the part where the sole concern of anyone in that room was making sure he wasn't faking, do you think she expected that?"

PROBABLY. YOUR UNCLE FAKED HIS OWN DEATH ONCE, FOR BUISNESS PURPOSES. IT SOUNDS LIKE HIS BUISNESS RIVALS WANTED TO MAKE SURE IT WAS REAL THIS TIME.

"And despite his business rivals all being incredibly sketchy people, she didn't figure they might get feisty with me about it?"

I DON'T THINK SHE EXPECTED THEM TO TAKE THINGS THIS FAR. I THINK

Pippi is interrupted by a notification noise. Pippi presses a button and another window opens. 

Good. Thank you, Pippi. I'm on my way. 

The email is unsigned, but it's reasonably obvious who it is from from context. 

"...did you have a different name before Pippi?" she wonders. "—I mean, finish your sentence first, I don't wanna interrupt."

Pippi is already answering her question, though. 

TECHNICALLY MY DESIGNATION IS LANGBROEK F 621, THOUGH SINCE I DID TEND TO SLEEP MORE THAN EVERYONE ELSE I ENDED UP NICKNAMED CATNAP. I LIKE MY CURRENT NAME MUCH BETTER. 

"...that's adorable. I'm glad you like the one I gave you, though."

IT FELT MORE LIKE AN ADMONISHMENT THAN ADORABLE AT THE TIME. I WAS NOT EXACTLY THE BEST ONE IN MY CLASS. PIPPI IS A LOT MORE FUN OF A NAME, GIVEN THE ORIGIN. AND YOU WENT WITH THE THEME, TOO, WHEN MAKING AND BUYING THINGS FOR ME. I LIKE MY CURRENT NAME A LOT. 

"I'm really mad that your pirate ship exploded."

She yowls.

ME TOO.

I MANAGED TO SAVE THE KATAMARI, AT LEAST. AT LEAST, I THINK SO. IT'S IN THE BACKYARD, NEAR THE CORNER OF THE FENCE. IT'S PROBABLY FINE. 

She steps up to the desk and gives Pippi scritches.

"Nice work," she says, only a tiny bit choked up. "I hope we manage to get it back."

Pippi arches her back under the scritches and purrs a little. 

ME TOO. 

For a moment, all she does is enjoy the scritches, purring a little sadly. Then she types again:

MORRISON SHOULD BE HERE SOON. KNOWING YOU, YOU WANT TO GET CHANGED. THERE'S CLOTHING UPSTAIRS IN YOUR ROOM THAT WILL FIT YOU. 

"...oh, man... yeah, you're totally right. Thanks." Scritch scritch. "BRB."

She heads upstairs.

There is a a bathroom and two other rooms upstairs, their windows all becurtained. Only one actually has a bed and things in it. 

There is a lightswitch by the door that actually works. The room is done up simply and neatly, with simple solid color bedsheets and blankets. There's also a chest of drawers and a closet, as well as a large desk with some drawers down one side and a pretty mediocre office chair underneath it. Sitting on the desk is what looks to be a pretty medicore last-generation laptop. 

Everything is very neat and clean, but slightly dusty, like it was set up some time ago and then never used. 

She wrinkles her nose at the dust and ventures into the chest of drawers.

The top drawer contains socks and underpants in a style that she's purchased before, all her size. The middle drawer contains t-shirts, all her size a couple of which she might recognize as exactly the same as some of her current (well, former, since they're now all ashes) t-shirts, as though someone went and figured out where she purchased them and bought an extra copy. The third drawer down contains a few pairs of blue jeans, all of which are in her size. 

Most of the clothing is in its original packaging, though there are some loose shirts and socks.