[Ah, she's standing. Best meet her at the table in turn. Very slowly, like a cat stretching from its position in the sun, Waltaquin rises, taking a step back herself so she's edgewise at the table.]

You know it is with her and physical affection. [It isn't said derisively, just amused. She can't replicate the warm kindness of the touch, and without Psyche to initiate it, that was really all she could do.]

It's really you, isn't it? [She laughs, a full raucous bark of it. Waltaquin doesn't quite understand herself exactly what drew her to this conclusion, but there has to be something - a thing that she heard before, a danger, a reflection. Her heart is pulsing hard.] Oh, how does that work, I wonder. Consider my curiosity also thoroughly piqued!

She thinks we're alike, you know. Told me I'd like you.