[She watches him interact with one of them, faintly smiling. She's named them after the Collective, and the one bumbling over his shoes just happens to be Husserl. The one at his fingertips, all brave and bold, is Derrida. Her eyes linger on how he reacts to them, to his curiosity and to his brief smile, and the look on her face becomes just a little more genuine.

Ergo brushes against her thigh, watching his kittens. She scratches his head.]

You should see them when they're hungry. They try climbing up my pants and their little claws help them stick to me. It's ridiculous.