( it has a distinct look: just about clinging to sanity. she musters something that resembles friendliness, her best good faith attempt at it, and glances behind her as putin leans heavy against her legs, not aggressive toward percy but seemingly sensitive to her anxiety. )

Um, here is good, there's some space—yes, baby, the man has a present for you, ( which is probably for putin, and sounds more like slight distraction than adorable babytalk for pets. ) It's Percy, right?

( there's a brief quirk of her mouth, )

Like my horse. Probably short for something different. We love Persistence, don't we, Putinka? Percy does not love you, big baby. Uh—

( she directs him to where she's more or less created a lounge; chaise-longue, a low table that she pushes aside, a rug. the seating is mostly cushions, and probably had not been set out in anticipation of her having much company as it all seems very much tailor-made around her creature comforts. )