This suggestion...sort of...registers. Instead of washing his shoes, Stanley slips them off, though. And then he sits down beside the juice puddle and stares at it for a moment. Sorry, Collette. It's been one of those weeks. He thought he was handling it, but now that there's juice on the floor things are somehow unbearably overwhelming. Would it be weird to take a nap in the kitchen?

Before he goes for it anyway, there's a soft padding of small feet. A little girl emerges from her hiding spot inside a cupboard and climbs right into his lap, with a degree of familiarity that suggests she has no reason to think she doesn't belong there. She pets his long, silky hair a few times, and then casually pickpockets the cheese he'd tucked away for later. She's either the tiniest, boldest, most reassuring thief around or she knows him, and well.