"But not the only one. I, hahaha," Jean shakes their head fondly. "I think she's been accidentally trained to trust people with breasts, Zelda and Pomni help me care for her, you see. She has a community, just as she would in the wild. That's something else she knows, young as she is - no one being will love her alone." As quietly as possible, Jean taps out the spoon they've been using, and pads over to offer Fever the coffee mug; it will want two hands, to say nothing of the warmth it offers against the early Spring chill. "...My community here has been willing to help me, Comrade Fever. Even after that."

They nod their head at the drawings of the Parade Day massacre.

Several are up rather close. As if from the killer's perspective.