*in his best Employee of the Year voice, albeit with raised brows (to quote Duilien, you look kinda like a yak sat on your face)* Afternoon, sir...
*already reaching for the envelope as you hand it over, trying not to wince at your obvious distress* Cold, sir? You're allergic to cats, aren't you. Oops. *snags a box of tissues from the bottom drawer and pushes it over to you—
—juuust as the crate door nudges his foot and a furry little body squirms out between his ankles* *freezes* *urgently* Sirshutthedoornowplease.