She's still holding the tablet as he gets to his feet, attention returning to the device. She's mindful not to accidentally scratch it with her talons, shifting to press the pad of her digit to the screen, attention on 'wikipedia' while York deals with his delightful feline minion.

It's only when the refrigerator opens that her head comes up.

And then she's directly behind him, curls of black smoke swirling between and around them, before she peers about to eye the contents of the coldbox, one wing shifting so that the claws rest lightly on his shoulder.

"Surely you have better fare than this for yourself."