Unless Konoe has access to a particularly large trebuchet capable of launching stocky, dense dwarves, Kit definitely cannot fly.

"Cats," Kit ends up repeating again, and gives his head a slight nod, as thought to confirm for himself that a talking cat man makes about as much sense in this place as any of the other weird shit he's seen since arriving. (He's got a pet rabbit-owl, after all.)

He fetches out a cigarette and lights it, because frankly, who's going to stop him. "I'm Kit," he introduces himself, blows out a whorl of smoke, and nods back at Konoe. "What's your name?"