She tilts her head up and chirps at him, not understanding any of what's going on. Obviously. Cats are above such things. She knows her name and that is enough.

Locus shifts, lowering the bottle. "Locus. Sam...doesn't fit any longer." And then, as if anticipating the issue that might be about to rear its head, he glances back at York. "It may have been the name of the armor, of the weapon, but it can be more. Washington was able to make his name mean more. I could do the same."