[He looks skeptical still, in his restrained way, but doesn't push it further. He winds up leaning on his hand again.]

Is that what you're trying to do here, with us? Or does the part where the admin up and yanked your fluffy ass to Alaska negate that premise? You seem like you do whatever you want a lot of the time, but it's honestly kind of hard to imagine how the whole literal constellation turned into a feline thing works out for goal or directives. How does finding the warmest lap to sit on measure against advising teens on their life problems? It sounds like something that would get boring after enough centuries.