"I wonder," drawls a voice from behind her, "What exactly your definition of 'monster' is?"

Macavity's leaning on a near-by wall, watching her. His red, feathery tail is twitching slightly, and he's looking at her with metallic green eyes, a slight smile twitching the corner of his mouth.

She smells of death, but she looks neither dead nor dying, and that interests him. It also serves as a relative diversion from the severe irritation he's beginning to harbour for this place.