He might as well have left it at the name; it tells her all she needs to know about the source of his strain and even his injury, cut deep enough to leave a mark on his mind. She may not be very skilled at deciphering human euphemisms, but if there was any doubt about the nature of his stay with Romac, the cat's subtle contribution, half aggression, half fear, makes it abundantly clear. She knows all too well what they're capable of inflicting, even to beings far more powerful than small, fragile humans. Her frown turns cold and hard with anger, and the Unicorn shakes its head like it's looking for someone to impale.

"You should have come to me," she says, voice tight, because it's one thing to have lacked the foreknowledge necessary to protect him, but another to hear he'd endangered himself for her sake afterwards. "I am hidden. I am impenetrable." He can't know how much it has galled her, how much it has vexed and frustrated her to be potentially vulnerable to a bunch of scheming cruel humans. "I am safety, I am freedom," the Unicorn reiterated softly, melodiously, to the cat, nudging her side tenderly as though checking for injuries.