Trust me, if anyone was going to know about Caesar moving fast... ( she snorts, looking for a way around the whole bottleneck, finding none and then sighing and crossing her arms over her chest. ) ... I would. He's more like... what're those? Sloths! Or fat, old lazy tabby cats, the kind that flop over in the sun and sleep for most the day.

Who are you anyway?

( After all, she's not supposed to know, but mostly she's thinking get the heck away from my boyfriend you phasing creeper! Which is thought very hard, but delivered with such a smile and only the slightest grimace and exaggerated roll of her eyes when describing Caesar's more desirable traits.

Or something. )