"If I get amnethia again," comes his voice from behind the couch still, grouchy and slightly pained, "then it ithn't the town'th fault but mine for being an idiot."

Really, laying here sounds like a wonderful plan, but he doesn't have all night to do that. With his head pounding, he picks the kitten on his chest up by the scruff of its neck and pulls himself up to his feet with the help of the couch. Awkwardly and holding the cat away from him, he looks down at Milla.

"It... You look like a cat perthon."