"No shit," Dustin says, deadpan, though that curious stare doesn't go away; the Communications expertise is doing a weird thing where it's subconsciously translating Quintet's more subtle body language, and an even weirder thing where it's making him want to answer her back the same way. Dustin mentally slaps away the urge to mime a lashing tail with his arm, fortunately for both of them, and instead shakes the confusion out of his head and curls himself into a sit on his rolling bench.

"You haven't met Salem?" he continues, tone a little more level. Aside from barging into his shop through an intentionally unlocked door, Quintet hasn't done anything worth denying her information. "Black domestic shorthair, very loud?"