"Blake Ryan, Professor" Blake added with a smile again. And then a bluish, grey looking kneazle rubbed on his legs. Blake jumping slightly at the touch looked down. His first instinct was to shoo it away, he's rather not have it rubbing up all over his legs.

"Regular cats sit in boxes all the time." Blake remembered his neighbor's cat doing that when he was a small child. "Professor ... I'm not really a cat person." Blake added as he scooted himself away from the kneazle rubbing on him.