Kevin flinches when the familiar moves. He dislikes pets. They're too small, too vulnerable. The memory of the dog in the junkyard is still fresh, even if it happened a while ago.

Still, he reaches out and catches the gloves, waiting on that familiar pull, that something that says his powers are working.

... Nothing.

Slowly, he pulls the gloves on and takes a deep breath - his first since showing up here. It's relief, followed by fear again that she's going to realize how dangerous he is.

"These are much better." He flexes his hands slowly in the gloves. "Thank you."