Batteries is familiar, and Rinzler's helmet jerks in affirmative. He'd used them in the user school, after the slightly disastrous attempt with the wall socket. Low charge, but enough—in quantity, at least.

Not that he can communicate as much in any detail, with the MID out of reach again. Fingers curl slightly at the program's side, eyes tracking Wash's search behind the helmet. The user's looking. Helping. Is he? Rinzler still doesn't understand. It's easier, not having to stay up, but exhaustion is still hard to cancel, and he loops the question, trying to hold focus—until a prickle of tactile input comes against his side. Hairs?

No. Whiskers.

Rinzler tilts his mask down to meet the three pairs of slitted eyes looking back. Oh. This protocol, he's familiar with. Cats were one of the first creatures he encountered on this ship, and in Rinzler's estimation, the most sensible. He shifts minutely, raising a hand to let the tiny predators inspect as his noise rumbles quietly in the background. Had Wash installed them in the room? It seemed to be their territory.

It's not until Wash speaks that he notices the finished search, and Rinzler's upwards glance is slightly lagged. Once visuals lock on the power cell, he nods quickly, though, reaching out a hand.