He doesn’t have the slightest idea what the noises mean. As far as he can tell, they’re not directly related to the obnoxious one anymore, and that’s all he really needs to know. The two-legs can make noises until his voice gives out. It means nothing to him and all he really wants is for those nails to keep scratching through his fur.

What he needs, though he doesn’t know it, is brushed. His coat, while not filthy, is a little matted in places from being in the woods for so long. He’s done some maintenance on it since being brought inside; there have been some long tongue-baths as he casually contemplated eating the obnoxious one. But it feels nice to have someone else dealing with it.

His tail taps the top of his makeshift bed and he lets his eyes drop halfway closed. This is nice. He’s enjoying this.