It is apparent within moments that Booker is an animal person. Not only that but he is a cat person and that, in her book, makes him even more of a gentleman and great guy. There were very few men who enjoyed the attentions of a cat. She couldn't tell how many times she had heard a man speak negatively about cats since they were so antisocial and clawed everything up. Mean creatures, they said, but she had found that cats had just as much love and affection as a dog and just as much loyalty. Booker doesn't hesitate, immediately scooping up Darwin and snuggling him, and she finds a certain spot in her chest warming at the sight. She half expects him to ask at the origin of the cats name so she can tell him how he had survived the streets by himself after being abandoned - survival of the fittest. Plus he was smart enough to cross paths with a bleeding heart like Sorcha and apparently she wasn't the only one who couldn't resist his motor box and attention seeking behavior. "Someone left him in he rain on the street outside a few weeks ago. I wish I knew who it was, I can guarantee I'd make sure they didn't get any more cats," she said with a note of anger in her voice, running one hand across Darwin's head in Booker's hands before turning back to her business.

She glances back at him in surprise and with a brilliant smile. Well, a man after her heart. Her eyes flicked down to his hands, again searching for a ring because who the hell wouldn't marry such a man? An animal lover and an activist. "I daresay he loves you too at the moment. I've always wished I could do more to help out the shelters but honestly I'm not even supposed to have him here. Just have to keep him tucked away and quiet if my landlord ever visits." Because it isn't like she would get rid of him now. When he questions what she does she grimaces in the mirror over her dresser while staring down at the clothing she was pulling out. It always stuck in her craw that she couldn't just tell someone what she was except other supernaturals. Humans would laugh at her or run from her, assuming she was some Satanic worshiper. "Mmm a bit of everything, I guess you could say. I've found that a lot of old remedies using fresh herbs, roots, and such are more potent and effective than over the counter medicines. Plus I can mix things that seem to help other things. I call them potions, sells them better," she says, waving a hand dismissively but trying to downplay it. For now.

Tucking the clothing into her arm and the towels with it she glances up, catching his gaze in the mirror and the subsequent redness of his cheeks, and bites back her own grin at his attempt to ogle her. She spins around now and heads back to him, settling everything down on the coffee table (which is now grossly overcrowded) and grabs her beer before taking a swig. While she never had much taste for them it always helped her relax, smiling down at him as she grips some cotton balls and pours Peroxide on them, listening to him. Supernaturals? The words cause her eyes to snap to him as she pauses in what she is doing, searching him with her gaze. He wasn't a Dark Hunter was he? No, no way. He would have killed those kids for sport if he was. "Private detective? I've always wanted to do something like that." Her voice is filled with curiosity and almost excitement, eyes avid as she watches him tell the story of a mystery.

She is a curious being and a mystery, well, it calls to her. "You are looking into this?" She said a moment before he rubs a hand on his temple and his voice comes out pained. His parents. It makes her smile fall and a look of concern appear as she reaches out her free hand to touch his own around the bottle of his beer. "I am sorry," she says softly, feeling sad for him. Her own parents were alive, even if they were across the world, but to lose one's parents without even knowing who did it or why? She couldn't imagine. For a few moments of time there is a sadness that hangs between them and she wonders if maybe she should get one of her potions that will help him sleep - he looked sort of tired but it could be she is blinded by the beat up quality of his face. Besides it is the middle of the day in her apartment, a fact he will no doubt miss as well.

MEOW! Darwin winds around her feet growing louder by the second as the moment of sadness breaks and she grins at both Booker and Darwin, leaning down to run a hand across Darwin's head in front of Booker before focusing on her patient with a sly grin. "I expect you to dance now, you know? Time to pony up," she says, leaning forward to rub the cotton balls against his busted lip a few times, the peroxide both cleaning the cut and the blood off. Replacing the used one she takes another and rubs along his nose, grimacing when she knows that it will burn, placing her free hand on his cheek to hold him still (or maybe just to feel the roughness of his skin). "Once I've patched you up I've got a potion that will help to heal you faster. I am a witch so you should trust me with that," she says very softly, unable to stop the words from coming up with him trapped between both of her hands and her eyes flicking up from his wounds to see his reaction. Maybe he would think she is joking, maybe not.

The moment she is done she leans back to grab the neosporin, rubbing it into his wounds gently and then she sits back on the coffee table in front of him, waiting for a reaction as Darwin leaps up on her lap and sits pretty in her lap, also watching Booker as if he is proud of his new witch momma.