Oh gods, not this kind of man. The man who has ideas and likes the sound of his own voice. He may mean well, but Shura had her fair share of superiors with that kind of personality. She downs the rest of her glass, reaching for the liquor bottle to refill their glasses as she replies.

"Animas? Once or twice." It wasn't the kind of thing her master had been interested in and the familiars her master had given her did the job well enough. She mostly only overheard people talking about it.