"Yeah well, Raphael was in my head long enough, I'm sure I picked up a few things," Stacia says dryly, hugging him back. She nods along to his explanation. "That makes sense. It's fu--" Nope! "--It's cold enough out there that dropping an F-bomb is the only way to indicate how cold it is, and I can't bring myself to do that here." Can't swear in Santa's workshop. Too weird. Even if Santa has forearm tattoos.

She tries to gauge whether the ladder will hold her weight in Crinos. Fortunately, most things here that aren't built for the elves are built for the big man or the yeti, and they're not too far off from that. She shifts and climbs the ladder, delicately manipulating the alarm with the tips of her claws until it makes a bleep noise that she assumes means that it's turned off.

She'll get back to the how-she-is question once her mouth is more capable of human speech.