Cass' expression clearly expresses disagreement, but ... she sighs. "What else am I supposed to do?" she murmurs. The state of the world is disheartening to say the least, and she has no idea where to even start. So she doesn't, returning to the comfortable bubble of her life. There's a small smile on her face, actually, at her mother's words. "I mean, sometimes, it's not that bad," she finds herself admitting in fact, inspired by the ever-growing hole in her life that is her father's absence and her mother's busy work. Even if, yeah, these words will definitely be taken back within the next few days, for sure - puberty doesn't know too much place for sweet honesty.

The student appears actually shocked at being called a phrenologist, but the worst part is how she doesn't even really have a rebuttal for it. "It's...!" she says, puffing her cheeks in lieu of any fact that she could use to help her point. Because, objectively speaking, her mother is correct there. In her heart, however, she knows that not to be true. There's something about the Furfrou that's standing out. "It hasn't made any problems yet, has it?" is the only thing that comes to her mind that she can fall back to.

That, and the collar that starts to be unearthed beneath all that dirt. In the excitement, she does indeed forget manners, and also- uh, what has been wrong with what she said? But turning to look away from the collar to her mother made her remember. She does her best to mask away the ooops sentiment, clearing her throat before she repeats, "Could you please call this number for me, dear mother?" ... ... Okay, maybe she really didn't have to go full historic on that one.

Then, she blinks. And looks back at the pokémon. And then back to her mother. And. "Achilles? That-?" she asks, bewildered - but now much of the mud and dirt is gone, the fur below ... actually. Yeah. This ... "I never would've recognised him." There's a faint smile on her face as she thinks about the purebred dog having fun out in the mud, freed from the general expectations of his owner ... before it turns into a slight shock. "Mom! We can't do that. Also, we already got so far." The Furfrou's now looking mostly clean, and there's only one thing left to do ...

"Hey, let's give him the best haircut ever, how about it?" she asks, trying her best to stay serious. "Then Mrs Dressler won't be able to say anything about haircuts anymore." Which, honestly, a stretch clearly motivated by Cass' desire to give the Furfrou a haircut. (One of her hands is also buried in the wet fur, and it's silky.) "There's a Furfrou show in a couple of hours, and she won't be able to change anything about the cut, and if she wins with this ...!"

Calpurnia Kubrick