Arj hasn't been doing much over the last day or so, besides hiding in a blanket, and his gait shows it. He's lost a certain feline fluidity to his step, moving more stiffly than usual across the second floor. Each step is cautious, and sometimes he shudders with the memory of the ice. Is that what winter is like here?

There's another figure on his back - the firefly that's been following him around lately, nestled in the ruff between his wings. It's curled up tight, and there's no light or warmth emanating from its body. It's not as if Arj would admit to being concerned, but...

He catches a glimpse of someone fluttering overhead, and stops. "Frost's all gone, I take it?" he says, in an attempt at conversation.