Pausing, Karen looks back over her shoulder, hair sliding across her pinched expression. "I have no idea," she begins, wondering why she'd be expected to know otherwise. It's only as she straightens, a stack of pots in hand, that comprehension dawns across her features.

"Oh god," she says, shoulders slumping. "I really don't want to think about what that asshole could be getting into right now." 'That asshole' being their unwittingly adopted groffle, whose demeanor is generally calm but who also seems unable to keep to herself.

"Alright," she adds, sliding the pots carefully onto a nearby counter with a sigh. "I guess we better go find out."