"No, he's just a cat," she answers, smiling slightly at the idea of Jazz speaking. No doubt that would be a disaster. Of course, he's carrying more than a cat usually does. But he, himself, is simply well-trained.

Fortescue carefully glances from side to side as she opens the door to the outside, wanting to be certain that vines aren't waiting to try and ambush them. But it does seem to be clear.

"I've trained him quite a bit, that's all. What cat did you know that could talk?"