[ Well! That's something. John hadn't been tracking the cat too closely; she hasn't been particularly talkative, and he's not well-versed in regarding an Omen as an extension of some singular self, when the only Omens he spends time with are an entire can of worms. No one's ever met his in a situation that didn't involve bloodshed. Usually she's the one shedding everyone's blood.

Still: he watches the split with a little furrow of startled fascination in his brow. As she stalks off, he tracks the movement out the corner of his eye, drawn again to the intangible weight of her.

There's a surprising number of people with odd souls, in this town: two-part melanges and muddied hundred-part infusions and his own cohort of walking black holes. He's never quite seen a person split in half. One essence in two shapes, not evenly distributed.

Asriel couldn't know how darkly funny it is. ]

I like to hope so.

[ He's saying nothing in particular, politely glossing over whatever just happened there. Even more politely pretending there's nothing to read into it. ]

I'd like to have something there, you know? It's been a shaky start, and her mom and I didn't exactly see eye-to-eye.

[ This is a very funny understatement. ]