The hangover, thankfully, had passed with the hypo Dr. McCoy had given her, and after some rest - and a pleasant encounter with an orange kitten in the corridor- Nora definitely felt like she could go back to her normal routine. Even if she didn't feel like a mess, though, she knew she looked like one; one glance in the mirror was enough to confirm
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Damn it. He was the worst cat-sitter of all time. This was exactly why he'd always had dogs -- they didn't try to sneak away. They loved you so much they followed you around and drooled happily on your hands instead of using their wily little genius brains to somehow reach the door controls and activate them and escape out into a giant maze-like spaceship...
Karl moved at a steady jog, keeping his eyes trained on the floor as he rounded a bend, so he didn't notice the young woman in front of him until he was quite close. And when he did, he didn't spend much time on pleasantries. "Hi," he panted. "You haven't seen a couple of cats recently? Young ones, like that big, orange one and a brown tabby?"
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