Though he doesn’t know what she means by ‘pets,’ he’s pretty sure she isn’t talking about goldfish. (Are goldfish even around anymore? Probably have fangs and cases of lung cancer if so.)

And god, thank you, he’s only met a few feral ghouls in his time, but he finds them endlessly tedious.

“I may just do that.”

He looks her up and down again. “Well, Isolde. Against expectations, it hasn’t been entirely wretched meeting you.

"As for our little disagreement..." There's a wave of the hand, a dismissive gesture. "I suppose I can survive a small amount of noise."