Eliot blinks at the cat, though he shouldn't be that surprised that such a feline is so foulmouthed. That cat looks like it's seen some shit. "Well I suppose you would be no true Scotsman if you weren't the arbiter of all that's fallacious." Scotscat? Eliot's point still stands. Puns: the desperate man's weapon.

"And yes, I've had the misfortune of coming through the Rift. The name's Eliot." He doesn't offer a handshake or his last name, just because the guy looks so prickly. Eliot's a little more bothered for the moment by the bird, knowing his name, giving credence to its claim of somehow being him. He doesn't like the idea.

The bird makes an awkward shuffle forward, still fluffed up like an unpleasant pinata. "Adhafera," she says to the cat, presumably an introduction. Eliot feels a smidge more relaxed as this piece of the etiquette puzzle resolves itself. The talking animals can talk to each other, and keep the dream bullshit relatively contained.

He doesn't, however, appreciate it when the bird then adds, "He's not normally this useless."