He almost adjusts to prop his foot on the edge of the bench, but that's a position too friendly and too vulnerable at the same time. Instead, Cat takes a step back and shifts his weight to his opposite foot, crosses his arms, and tips his head in the direction of the kite. Were his thoughts scrambling a little less, he'd like to take the time for a sarcastic remark about any ancestor of his deserving only insults. Had he really been asleep? Were his actions, and the feelings behind them, really that painfully genuine?

Cat tries to keep his voice as even as possible when he starts back up again with, "...Interesting design. Is my fortune supposed to be me seeing the face of a loved one?"