Oh, you precious summer child. Asta can't answer at the moment; she's come down with a bad case of the giggles. So bad, in fact, that there are tears in her eyes when she finally stops. "Woo, oh man, I needed that," she chokes out. "It's not me-me, man, it's all one word. 'Meme'. Man, that's what my dad calls 'em!"

She retreats back through the portal, returning after a moment with a banged-up netbook tucked under one arm. (Hey, you try keeping electronics intact when you're being chased by a monster. It ain't easy.) She cracks her knuckles and powers the tiny thing on. "If this works, then you're welcome to all the cat macros you can stand."