"As is evolution," the sluagh adds even quieter now that she considers it, then speaks up in a slightly louder whisper "If you wish, and I do not do this for anyone, I can go to a shadowy bench in the park wearing very old clothes and acting like a little old lady, and throw sour dough as I ramble distractedly. Not too often, and to be fair, Connor does it better than I, but it might... help?"