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Is anyone here good at hunting? There is some sort of infestation of small cats in the garden, and we should really stop them before they cause problems. Plus I think we can all agree some fresh meat would be a nice change.

I've been trying to catch some but they keep hiding in places I can't reach. Some assistance would be appreciated.

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[Gregor's face flickers onto the feed, his tone level and extremely mild.]

Excuse me. I think they, er. Hatched off a tree in the garden, and I'd like to collect at least one or two of them as gifts but... I don't think hunting them down to eat them is going to be terribly popular among the rest of the crew. It's a cultural thing.

I'd be happy to come and help you gather them up, though, if they're causing damage or if they're underfoot. Just... let's put them into a carrier of some sort for now and figure out what to do with them later, how does that sound?

[ Starflight is looking very sullen by the time he gets Gregor's message, tail lashing across the floor, but he's a little surprised at how calm Gregor is. Especially after all the grief he's gotten so far. ]

So I've gathered. Fine. If you all want to keep these kittens, be my guest, but I expect you to get all of them. I can help you track them down if need be.

[ He turns behind him where there is a gap between a shelf and the wall, black tongue flicking out as he sniffed the air meaningfully. ]

[Gregor smiles, his voice warming a little, soothing.]

I'm sorry about that. I think everyone's a little on edge from the cold, and taking care of some kittens will give everybody who wants one a nice distraction, which we need right about now. I'll be right down.

[It doesn't take him long to get to the garden and he stops a respectful distance away when he realizes just how large Starflight is.]

Excuse me. [His voice is just as steady as ever, though.] I don't believe I got your name, before. I'm Greg.

I'm Starflight, of the NightWings. Nice to meet you.

[ He was trying to be polite but he was still feeling a little snappish from earlier, and his introduction came off a little clipped. He got up from his spot in front of the shelf, beating his wings a few times to drive off the chill from sitting in one place too long. There's a faint meowing coming from the gap.]

There's at least two back there. I would have moved the shelf but I didn't want to break anything.

It's nice to meet you, Starflight. [Gregor looks in the direction of the meowing, his face softening helplessly before he casts around for a container and locates a bin too tall in the sides for the kittens to climb out of.]

This should do. And thank you for your patience. [Gregor kneels down and wriggles closer to the shelf, snaking his arm around and under it to try to feel for the kittens while making soft clicking noises with the tip of his tongue. Any other time and he'd be self-conscious, but... kittens.]

[ Starflight nudged the container closer to Gregor, watching the man closely when he knelt down. He lowered his head to try if he was having any success.]

What's the clicking for? Is that supposed to help lure them out? Wouldn't it be better to imitate another cat?

Not particularly. I don't speak fluent cat, so I have no idea what I'd be saying. [He is perfectly straight-faced.] A bit of noise, however, makes them curious, and... ha!

[He draws back, triumphant, with one cat wriggling indignantly between careful hands. He deposits it into the box and watches it for a moment, almost fond.] There we go.

But if the meows actually meant anything, wouldn't the ship be translating?

[ Starflight leaned over, sticking his nose in the box to inspect the tiny feline. ]

Oh. [Gregor blinks.] I didn't think of that. But then I suppose I'd be worried about what I might accidentally say, if I was trying make meowing noises.

[He extracts another kitten and slides it into the box next to Starflight's snout, then another--now that he's not moving around so much they're trickling out of hiding to investigate. He drums his fingers on the floor absently and flips his palm up to catch one as it launches its tiny body at his hand, rubbing gently under its chin as he looks up at Starflight.]

Do you have pets, where you're from? Or domesticated animals of any stripe?

[ Starflight pulls his head out of the box with a huff as Gregor starts putting cats in. He's still put out about his treatment on the network, and the ease with which Gregor was catching kittens wasn't helping. Starflight knew he wasn't great at hunting, he didn't need a reminder. Nonetheless, he kept obligingly still as he sulked.]

The RainWings do. They keep sloths as pets. But RainWings are- [ He cut himself off before he could finish the insult. Their guardians had been very clear on their opinion of RainWings, and it took some effort to not think about them that way. It wasn't fair to Glory. ]

RainWings are very different from other dragons. A lot of time pets get eaten by other dragons.

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