Oh, many cats. Dain pauses just inside the doorway to the stable, taken aback in the best way possible. He smiles in spite of himself, the small delighted smile of a child encountering a new favourite thing for the first time, before it fades with the ease of practice.

He can, and should, keep acting like nothing happened. But Detlef isn't fooled. It's cruel to keep him so thoroughly on his toes, particularly when he has just as much reason not to say anything to the church as Dain does.

Dain clears his throat, still a little awkward, but more composed than before. "I'm happy, if you are, to assume our conversation started in here. With the cats, and the horse already calmed. It would... erase a good deal of discomfort, I think. I'm sure we're both better conversationalists than that."

It's skimming so near the line of plausible deniability that it can't honestly be called plausible anymore; but it'll do. It has to. Dain watches Detlef, silent and still, waiting for the reply.