[Mogget is busy eating his latest acquisition - a fish stolen from a catch being unloaded further up the docks - when one of his small ears swivels towards the sound of the approaching footsteps. He's more than used to being mistaken for an everyday cat, so looks up without speaking and stares unblinkingly at the man with vibrantly green eyes.

The tip of his tail flicks, and he lifts one paw up to begin cleaning it.

He wonders, as he often does in such situations, what this person may do if they don't realise his level of sapience.]

[Curious. Usually when people here mistake him for a normal cat they do so in a disparaging way, but this man seems more grateful for the company. Mogget sniffs, then leans his head forwards in silent permission for ear scritches.

He may be a sapient being from the beginnings of his own universe, but he is also a cat that enjoys being scratched behind the ears.

Still, he does wonder. The cat lets out a curious chirp, looking up at Geralt with a peculiar level of intelligence.]

[Not the first person to mistake him for a Turnskin. It hardly rankles him now, and he just keeps on watching with that same bright intelligence in his eyes. If they were in Geralt's world and Mogget were his true self, the metallion would no doubt be vibrating itself into pieces.

But then he mentions Jaskier, and maybe the way Mogget's ears twitch or the way his tail flicks just that bit more vigorously tells too much about his familiarity with the bard. He doesn't blink, but he turns his head to look at the water much as Geralt had been doing.

And he wonders. Is now a good time to speak? Perhaps as good a time as any. He maintains his silence for now, though... just for a little longer.]

[Oh, he considers very strongly just saying nothing and letting this man doubt himself. It wouldn't be too far outside of his usual modus operandi to simply make a nuisance out of himself wherever possible.

But...

Admittedly, Mogget had grown something of a soft spot for the bard in question, though he would be pressed to admit such a thing out loud. The cat cleans his paw for a moment, lowers it, then looks up and speaks.]

Since you stated it so politely.

[His voice is, unsurprisingly, very cat-like. The words come out in meows and chirps yet somehow entirely understandable.]

He knows. Though it wouldn't have surprised me if he had missed it at first.

[Jaskier knows Mogget talks, and Mogget knows how much Jaskier likes to talk. He is relatively fond of the bard these days though, in as much as Mogget is ever really 'fond' of anyone.

But now this man knows that he talks as well, and he doesn't react with the surprise that Mogget is used to receiving when people discover this fact. That alone is enough to make the cat curious about him in turn.]

We arrived in the same group, and have crossed paths a number of times since.

Do you think I'm normally something else?

[Now, that is something that he's used to seeing assumed about him. He supposes he could be a little insulted that Jaskier had never mentioned him to this man given his first hand experience of just how much the man likes to chatter, but he doesn't know how close they are.

Mogget swishes his tail slowly across the floor, back and forth, and turns his attention out to the water.]

I am a cat. What I would prefer to be is irrelevant.

[He's closer than he thinks to realising the reason, though still falling shy of the mark. Here, though, it doesn't matter either way. Mogget has a freedom here that hasn't been afforded to him for some time, though he's still a prisoner in other ways.]

Indeed.

[And the cat falls silent for a while, his small body marble-still and eyes unblinkly fixed on the water. Occasionally, when something disturbs the surface, his attention shifts to it almost imperceptibly.]

You're one of his bonds, are you not.

Hm.

[He doesn't know if the man considers that to be lucky or not, so he chooses not to pass comment on the fact. That they are bonded now means little to him in terms of how close they might be - Mogget sees bonds as nothing more than a business arrangement.]

Does he talk this much there, too? [Is he going to drag Jaskier? Yes, he absolutely is.]

I haven't had the misfortune of hearing him sing yet.

[For all he knows, Jaskier is a perfectly acceptable singer. In fact, he probably is. But cats have an entirely different view of what constitutes good singing and while Mogget is not entirely a cat, he is certainly enough of one to have peculiar ideas about certain things.

But this is nice. Peaceful. He twitches the tip of his tail as they sit there and the shadows begin to lengthen against the setting sun.]

I'll take that as an open invitation.