[Michael]

"Don't worry furbucket, I'm sure it's not your fault you were cursed with four legs and a hideous crown of hair. How -do- you keep from suffocating in it..?" True sympathy rang from his tone as the mangy cat slid from the tree- intent on following the group as it ebbed and slunk away from the forest. What were they all doing in such unmatched pairs? He pondered this as he came to stand next to the lion, eyebrows raising just as he leaned a hand on him.

"Perhaps I will go with you my friend, and follow you- I could ride you you know; as I weigh nothing at all." He smirked, leaning on his hand and very obviously weighing quite a bit more than nothing- as though he were heavier than he appeared. A feather with the weight of an egg, as it were. He smirked, giving a little hop and ending up supporting himself on one hand on the lion's back, smirking over at the woman clothed in red. now he weighed nothing more than a small book- an odd change from the heaviness from before- and spoke as though the lion were now nothing to consider in the slightest. Furniture and no more.

"And you understand his mental mumblings- the so silly grunts and squawks he has rambling about in his brain like a gaggle of crazed beasties and muffins? I think he wants me to fetch him a cradle..what ever for, I'm sure I have no idea. What could a lion do with a cradle of all things..?" He carried on, his grin indulgent if anything. What indeed could a lion do with a cradle? Well, certainly more than a baby could, that was fact. It seemed he hadn't a care in the world. Or at least that he cared for nothing in the world- either way, this seemed an interesting method for killing his boredom as it were. The mess derived from such murder however...well, he certainly wouldn't be bothered in picking it up!