[A thin, crooked shadow can remain unseen by humans bustling busily about the clinic ... he can't remain unseen by the feline who rules this roost, however. Ser Pounce-a-lot has always possessed a certain uncanny facility for detecting Unwellness in party members, and it would seem that any Transport has the potential to be counted within his party sooner or later, with the Initiative's missions so haphazardly composed of conscripts tossed together at random.

The orange cat is significantly larger than average by now -- with each mission he grows larger, and he's been on four or five; he's more the size of a medium-range dog. His meow is louder to match, and even in his kittenhood he was always disproportionately loud. He weaves over to Kariya, tail held high, and gazes up at him with lambent eyes.

MROWR! he announces his appraisal.

Anders comes hurrying over not long after.]

What's wrong, kitty? We've just fed you -- oh, I see you're playing receptionist today.

[Since Merrill left, they've been without a receptionist. Anders never had one in his Kirkwall clinic. He's still unused to the concept, and is of the mind that people will make their needs known without prompting. Pounce apparently has other ideas.

To Kariya, Anders says:]

I see Ser Pounce-a-lot has introduced himself. I'm Anders; I work here. Are you here to help or to be helped?