Boxer lowers his head right against the base of the float and inches forward, still trying to catch a scent as if the cat somehow won't see him now. Eames' lips pull into an amused smirk as he catches this out of the corner of his eye, but he's not planning to intervene unless he starts trying to cross floats or Mogget lashes out.

He'd dance around the question, but Mogget's already encountered his distaste for being made to do whatever the Courts want, and they both know well enough that not wanting to do something doesn't mean you won't do it.

"I'd much rather have nothing to do with this at all," he says, sighing and gesturing vaguely, "but who am I to say no when I've been nominated?"