The cat -- Splash was it? -- was pretty, but her looks hadn't fooled him; she'd already proved herself a menace. But animals were animals, unpredictable and inconsistent, and not altogether occupied with the concept of dignity, unlike their human counterparts. Well, most of their human counterparts.

He nodded his head, gesturing that it was nice to meet Miss Sloane Bixby. He would have much rather had a proper introduction, but such things weren't always possible -- especially when the young lady was out here chaperoned by nothing but a cat.

"Practice away", he waved his hand briefly at the pitch as if offering her a fine meal. "It's your space."

What a funny sort. Richard knew girls like this one existed, but couldn't think of the last time he'd spoken to one. Now that the shock of the chaotic introduction had abated, the novelist in Richard was observing Miss Bixby quietly but curiously. There was something... here.

"If you don't mind my impertinence in asking", he began, and already guessed she probably didn't; "what possesses a girl to choose such a physical and competitive pastime? Perhaps I'm being foolish and the answer is the same for a girl as a boy..."