He huffs, and the tip of his tail twitches as he pads directly up to B and begins to sniff industriously around his ankles.

"I can take care of my ears fine on my own," he points out, slightly grumpy. "And she's not a very good conversationalist." Not that most cats are, which isn't something he ever holds against them; it's in their nature, after all, and they're still his tribe after a fashion, even if they're not his People.

"Hold still, I need to see if you smell like a goopy, disgusting plague," he mutters as he pops up to brace his forepaws against B's knees.