If she's expecting to be followed for the dismissal, it isn't by a cat. So she doesn't quite notice him at her feet until he speaks and she nearly stumbles. One shadowy foot stomping through him, while the more solid step lands awkwardly off to the side to avoid doing so.

"Do I look like Marie Antoinette?" she huffs, continuing on as if she has somewhere to be. She doesn't, but stopping is how you get wrapped up in unwanted social situations. "Not sure what my medical history has to do with rejecting your invitation."