"Ah. That was not my guess," she says plainly, and crouches herself, tail in a semicircle around her. Toby does not go on all fours to look under the porch with this man, though. He seems to have that part covered. "My name is Toby. Toby Hamee."

There's also shouting in that direction, more aggrieved than than anything else. A lot is happening already, and the day's still young.

"Okay. Do you think you are able to hold a stick?" Yes, she's slim for her size and long-armed, but also... Toby doesn't want to lay down into the dirt and crawl after something. It's the kind of low-dignity nonsense she'd indulge in for a good friend or someone in dire straits, and this doesn't count.