Nimue

So quietly she trips across the floor, dragging random flotsam and jetsam she finds in niches the vacuum can't reach. With evil intent, she crouches at my feet. Then BONK! I've been kitten-bombed. She exults in my reaction of flying drink and floor-bound french fries. Then she creeps away again waiting for her next opportunity to turn on airplane mode, shut down the computer without saving my changes, and scare me half to death.