"Oh, yes. Having a marvelous time with my socks, probably." He didn't raise his wand again, however. It didn't quite find its way back into his robes, but ... still.
He hesitated on the threshold of the next door, though it was ajar; his quarters weren't large, and he was more than peripherally aware that it would have been inappropriate to invite a colleague into his bedroom, however indirectly. And he knew that had it been anyone else, he wouldn't have given it a second thought, but -
But he was going to find the bloody cat. He pushed through into his bedroom, immediately caught sight of the white blur darting into his wardrobe, and dove in with both hands, scratches be damned, to grab it around the middle. It came without much of a fight, although that might have been more because it had tangled its claws up in one of his scarves than because of any lack of animus. He stepped toward the door again, holding it out at arm's length, scarf and all. "Your responsibility, did you say?"
There wasn't an awful lot to the bedroom, from the doorway, except two tall windows, a bed with heavy green curtains, and enough books to make up for the lack of anything hung on the walls save a few battered photographs, small and indistinct.