Daine carefully shifts Kitten over to Peeta - an easy enough task, since Kitten's being more than cooperative - then, once her hands are free, mops at her face with her sleeve. Odd's bobs, she's already a mess. How badly is she going to fall apart when she sees Numair again? Giving her head a little shake, Daine silently resolves to focus on Kitten and Peeta for the moment.

Kitten, for her part, clutches onto Peeta's shirt with her forepaws and examines him closely. She studies his face for a few moments, trills quietly, then shifts her focus to the alien fabric his shirt is made of. Young as she is, her paws are as dexterous as human hands, and it's easy for her to pinch the fabric between her claws and fold it over itself, sniffing curiously. A trip through the rift hasn't dispelled the scents of baking, comforting and familiar, and her eyes narrow in a reptilian equivalent of a smile. She chirps, then reaches up and gently pats Peeta's cheek.

"She likes you," Daine supplies, rather needlessly. She offers the pair a watery smile, and then her gaze grows distant as the cat checks in. "Oh. Numair's in the palace--shall we?"