If anything could describe Catch, it was unpredictable. There were times when he would rage at her denial, worm-paths that, when traveled down, led to nothing but the black, mud-and-blood that clings, sucks, and boils. It is something that could happen, but here, it does not, for his rage is spent, his shock at what They had done emptying his mind. They must have done it to punish him, of course. What better way than to make her fall apart, when he wanted to put her back together? Catch hesitates as he pulls his things together; here, here is a feather that sings a different song, but he did not see the hand that delivered it. He takes it, of course. Strange is sometimes wonderful, and Catch puts the ticklish thing to his rough lips, lipping it gently, as he had to taste the dirt.
"You're wuh, welcome," he responds, more out of habit than anything else, because it is what one says after they receive a 'thank you', and he does not understand what he may have done to deserve it. She is laughing, now, and whatever else Catch may have said is trailed away, left for the air to take it. She is laughing. For a panicked moment, he wonders if she has figured out his plan, but the next instant, it is dismissed. How could she possibly figure it out? Pies may just be amusing for her. Yes, that was all; and Catch's lips twitch and spasm into a grin, and his own, husky laughter chortles, where hers is silent. he is easily swayed by the emotion of others, and he will cry when they cry, and laugh when they laugh.
"Rummm pie," he giggles, drawing out the word. Yes, he plans to put rum inside it. It is not exactly a lie.