There is a clicking of another sort across the lobby - the click of knitting needles, instead of claws. Rose looks up from the beginnings of her mittens once, then twice, keeping an eye on the newcomer. Finally, after several long moments, she lowers her work.

"My apologies if this is rude, but I'm merely curious. Are you one of the animals who can talk?"

She doesn't know whether to expect an answer or not. Perhaps he isn't like those strange, colored horses.