Mungojerrie steps onto Cam's lap instead of going for the platter right away.  They're much lighter than one would expect of a cat who regularly heisted fish as big as the ones from earlier.  "That's Rumpleteazer, my sister."  They lean a little against Cam's torso.  " - She isn't the same cat as the one I said I didn't know."

Said sister drops onto the floor and circles around to the front of the crate cluster, giving Cam a wide berth until she notices the sardines.  ". . . Hello there," she echoes.  To Mungojerrie: "I might have talked to Presto.  No one else around."

They nod.

Cam was not expecting a lapcat but he holds out his hand to be sniffed. "Presto?"

Sniff sniff.  . . . Headbutt.  "There's a cat named Mr. Mistoffellees and she figured out how to get this one bird to do things, sort of.  And she calls it Presto."

(Rumpleteazer warily starts in on the fish.)

"Mr. Mistoffellees is a she?"

"Yes?  Why is that surprising."

"'Mister' is a title for men, among humans, at least where I'm from."

"What's a men?  - Oh I see.  I think her humanoid was the one who started calling her that, so maybe they don't know she isn't one."

"Oh, if she's got a human that's probably how it happened, yeah. Do you in fact not know the one you said you don't know?"

"I learned it."

"Huh, I didn't realize that happened with facts other than vocabulary."

"It was a vocabulary: 'men'?"

"- I meant, do you in fact not know the cat you said you don't know."

Mungojerrie is no longer in Cam's lap.

"- sore subject?"

"I . . . don't know what kind of humanoid you are."

"I don't want to hurt anybody. I'm just trying to figure out more about this universe."

" - It was just her, then.  If you hit me I'll scratch you good."

"Why would I hit you?"

"I don't know if you're the kind of humanoid who hits cats when it's annoyed!"

"I'm not."

"But if you were we would certainly scratch you good," Rumpleteazer chimes in.

"What kind are you instead?  I don't understand what you want."

"I want to end material scarcity."