Right before he actually wiped his mouth, Nepeta's hand shot forward, and she stopped him before he could wipe the milk away. Her eyes were wide and she smiled a rather toothy grin.

"Wait, wait!" She pulled his hand away, and was a little surprised to find that it was a rather easy task now. Another small victory for her... on top of seeing the small milk mustache that lined his upper lip. It was just so silly and lighthearted, a total contrast from the image he always tried to put forth. She hated to see him wipe it away.

"I must say, Mr. Zahhak, you look quite distinguished with your mustache!" She giggled lightly, taking the glass from where he had set it down and pouring the last of the milk into the glass for herself. She put up a finger as if to ask him to wait while she took a drink of it herself.

"And now we are distinguised moirails," she said, gesturing to where the milk remained on her own lip.