His ears flip back as he thinks about it. Wearing leather every single day? Siffleur can't imagine many more uncomfortable choices - other than latex. "I suppose once your weapons are powerful enough, you don't worry about running - or chafing."

Scorpius - the ringleader. The one who was talking about clones and stuff. Siffleur's tail swishes a few times. "He had an odd smell to him. Not rotten exactly but... something like it. Something off."

There is a natural opening here to ask more - who is Scorpius? What is a neural clone? But he hates that he knows any of this. It doesn't feel appropriate to know. It makes him shift uncomfortably. "I am glad your friends were just outside so they could take you away. I hope the new memory isn't too different from your old one."