He focuses on the sound of her footsteps, the flat of her weird toe-shoes slapping against the floor in a rhythmic pulse, only finding that it makes him way more distracted than the earlier conversation about figurines. Seems it doesn't matter what it is, something always manages to throw him off of his game.

"Hn—," he responds verbally, gaze lifting up off of his feet without remembering how he got to staring at them in the first place. "I'll handle it."

Standing beside her, he pauses briefly to scan the panels she taps out. With a growl (a little loud, he thinks in hindsight), he thrusts his arms forward and latches onto an edge. The tips of his claws dig into the seams, getting them loose before he slices them in and prying it back. He lets the two panels clatter to the ground, then whips his arm out to fling off the flecks of soft tissue.