Well, either the cat truly doesn't know what the Rift is, or the Rift itself is just... what, fishing for compliments? It ought to know better. Greta twists her hands together in her lap and gives the cat a considering look. It's aloof, and perhaps a bit smug, but it's far less possessive than the Rift-cats she's met. Maybe it really is just a coincidentally talkative cat with uncanny violet eyes.

All the same, she treads with a bit of caution when it comes to her description. "I've been told it's a sort of tear - like a hole in the bottom of your pocket - but between universes. People like me come through, and we've all been arriving in this city called New York," she continues haltingly, avoiding the easy slip of referring to it as falling and landing. Considering what happened to her right before her arrival (and what happened to Lilly, for that matter), it's just a bit too raw.

"I don't suppose you've heard of it?" she asks, feeling absurd. All this polite conversation with a cat.