Since York has claimed the couch in defeat, Carolina settles for smirking and slipping onto the armchair, oozing much like a cat into a comfortable position before adjusting her wings. They probably shouldn't be able to bend that way, but they do and they are, and her tail flicks back and forth at an even, steady tick as she watches.

And both ridged brows lift a little when the call connects. Oh. Oh ho ho. This might be good.