"When, exactly," says Rush, even and deliberate, eyes fixed on the feline-shaped thing perched atop the refrigerator, "did you acquire a cat with monochromatic eyes?"

His fingers fall away from the prosthetic and glide over the surface of the table until they grip its edges, weighted with an implicit intent to rise. He pauses, evidently unconcerned, watching the curious organism with his head angled thoughtfully.

"Been watching for some time." He keeps his voice low, pitched as a theory rather than outright interrogative. "Haven't you?"