"No, he doesn't. He doesn't eat either," Ayumu interrupts cheerfully as she steps into the kitchen, clad in a modest, ivory satin-and-lace bathrobe picked up from her recent shopping spree and her favorite lucky cat slippers. Her long, black hair is gathered in a loose braid trailing down her back. The eyepatch she'd taken to wearing over her left eye is presently missing, the drooping eyelid and facial scarring visible behind the bangs covering it.

"Good evening, Gojyo," she continues easily as if the man in question doesn't look like he's had a very rough night or giving any outward indication that she'd overheard anything. It hadn't been much really, just something about Shizuo and a date and Sharak; once she'd gathered that it wasn't an immediate threat to her or her god, she'd respectfully tuned out the rest.

Currently, she's holding Spot in her arms, who seems to be trying to burrow his head into her robe, stroking his fur gently.