[Sal can't take it anymore, she's too action-oriented, and all of these feelings percolating up to the surface like this have her ready to start climbing the walls. It takes her the better part of a half hour to reply back, most of that time spent gently moving the cat away.

(Look, if she's able to find a way to pamper a giant, grumpy murderbird, she damn well can spoil a cat.)

It's not until she's dressed and out of the apartment, high up above the city where the air is cold and crisp against her face, that she's able to find some reply. Sal tries to stick with text for these kinds of talks, just for some kind of safety barrier, but there's something to be said against typing and flying, probably.]

I'm not trying to get rid of you.

[There's a faint but telltale hiss of a breeze against the speaker, but it's not loud enough to mask her tone—what she's really feeling, instead of the tough persona she usually projects to hide it. Hesitant, certainly wary too, but also very gentle.

She's just got to remind herself that she trusts Anathema, and that the simple act of being soft isn't going to hurt either of them, somehow.]

Shit, if it's not obvious by now, I like having you around. It's just— [A shiver. Must be the cold?] This place is fucked up, is all. When I first met my friend, Nicholas, it turned out just to be some strange, shadow apparition, some hidden part of him roaming around by itself. Who knows what strange things are going to happen like that again?

[There's a sigh, or it could be the wind complaining.]

Knowledge is preparation, right? That sounds a lot fucking less like some cheesy opera than stay away I'm dangerous, at least.