Dustin knows that the pain wasn't real, and part of him suspects that Quintet is bluffing about doing any actual damage (or if she is, the 'actual damage' would be just about as bad as a normal cat could inflict - painful, might get infected, but ultimately not fatal), but he also isn't entirely sure that simply being aware of her tricks would make him immune to them and he's not super eager to tempt a live test to find out. The boy scuttles to his feet, back pressed against the large motor he was working on and looking a bit more pale than usual.

"--Chill, alright? Fuck." Dustin holds one hand out in a feebly placating gesture while the other sweeps into his shaggy hair, eyes flickering as he mentally goes over their conversation so far. The cat racism, yes, he can see that and her anger is warranted there, point taken and internalized.

On the other hand... "Cannibalism?" He squints at her, incredulous. "You mean...the mouse thing?"