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Draugr’s day had been going pretty well, all things considered. She had woken in that pleasantly fuzzy state that spoke of well rest, her rider had hit all the good places while brushing her fur, and even her exposed plating had shined nicely in the light after the grooming. Truly it had been shaping up to be a good day.  Instead of the nice, calm day she’d been expecting, she now found herself with a distinctly felyne shaped annoyance. It wasn’t even Vanitas, who she could have reasonably gotten away with punting. No, instead she was staring at her rider crouched before a calico she’d never seen, watching as the wyverian tried to calm the frazzled cat. “I doubt they’ll go that far,” she heard the red-head say. “It’s not like ya started it.” The distressed felyne let out a sound that, in Draugr’s humble opinion, was somewhere between a wail and the screech of a dying monster. “No, but that doesn’t meowtter to them! I’m still getting blamed, so I gotta do something, but I don’t know