Their head tips to it. The warning is taken. It would be hard-pressed to get inside anyway. The praise is...too, taken.

The Relic Seeker referred to shell specifically, and so they dip their claws directly into it. It's warm; their claws clench, sloshing some over the edges.

They lift their claws to stare.

He'd mopped the floor. They should clean it up.

Their head twists to stare at the cloth, draped over the cup, resting on their leg.

He'd mopped the floor. It is not metal or shell.

More will spill if they pull their hand back to reach for it.