[He continues to pet T-chan, watching Wolfwood inspect the foreign room of a teenage girl. It's very funny to see.]

Weren't you the one who said they were for your imagination?

[Look, Wolfwood might not, but D will just say it. He uses his nails to give T-chan a headscratch exactly like one of those whisk-looking scalp scratchers.]

It doesn't sound like you have children. Or daughters, at least. [D's survey of the room is oddly indifferent. It sure is a girl's room.] Since neither of us are girls or daughters, I guess in this scene, we're meant to be terrible interlopers.

Perhaps we're the monsters under her bed.