Katka watched as he stopped down, eyeing him over. With a sweeping movement she snatched the pen from the faded carpet and stood back up. She was surprised that she had gotten to the pen before Nestor did, considering her current state, her belt visibly digging in below her stomach as she knelt down. The swift movement had prompted a sharp stab of pain from her ankle, but she ignored it, spinning the pen between her fingers.
It was a habit she had picked up from a friend years ago in school, the sort of thing you could do for hours on end in the dull heat of classroom, spinning the pen from finger to finger down the length of you hand and back. She grinned a mischievous grin and flicked her tail back and forth as she spun the pen "A Yank then?" Her mind reeled, no time to wonder what she was doing, or why as she glanced him up and down again...