None at all. [Because he knows this Hank (who he wants to call 'their' instead of that grey-furred monster, and when did he come to like the man so much) had nothing to do with the actions, past or dreamed, of the Beast.

He quiets when she takes a breath to speak again. At first he smiles, or tries to; one of her friends is here, and for now his reaction is joy instead of jealousy. But then she says he remembers her there longer, and the smile twists into a confused frown. His tail tightens around her ankle, the spade starting to rub little circles.]

Hell. [Kurt's quiet for a second, mulling all of it over. Then he hugs her, pressing a kiss to her ear.] You're still my Katzchen, I don't care how many of you there are. So put that out of your head, alright?