So it wasn't a cat? That statement made her feel both better and worse at the same time. Better because she had confirmation that she was in fact, not crazy. There was something off about it. Worse because there was no other mundane animal she could compair it too. Which meant it was magical in some sense. And it seemed angry at her for some reason and who knew what it could do.

Kneazel? That word, or name she figured, sounded faintly familiar. Like she'd heard it before but simply couldn't remember where she'd heard it before. But she could now guess why it was after her and by proxy this gentleman.

"The owner?" she parroted, her expression showing a startled confusion. She hadn't expected to be asked about the owner. She hadn't even thought to look to see if there was someone else in the stall with her when she'd come in. "I think I saw someone over there," Annabeth offered, point roughly at a back corner where the two sides of fabric met and parted for another exit.

Why was he getting closer to the creature? She couldn't tell if he was actually concerned about being harmed or not.