Faithful trotted into the room, in the the cat-like way of I-came-here-for-me-and-not-for-you. He blantently ignored the glare of the Duke and sniffed around, apraising his room. The duke cleared his throat. Faithful ignored him, continuing to snort around in the various powders and potions. He gave a few glasses mistrustful glares, that went espciealy so for that jewled staff the Duke carried around. "Scat." Faithful raised his head and gave another common cat look: I'm-leaving-because-I-want-to-not-because-you-said-so. He trotted out of the room. Something about that man made his fur raise andf he really didn't want to stay in the room that practicly crakled with magic and hate.