Darren exited the laundry room and started heading back towards the door that lead to the lobby. Taking a deep breath, he psyched himself up for walking back out into the most crowded place in in the hotel. He prayed to every God above that no one would notice him.
He stepped into the lobby. The concierge and the check-in counter workers all appeared to be in lethargic afternoon naps. Sighing in relief he wouldn't be given any extra attention, he was halway to the Post near the door when he heard a voice behind him.
"Excuse me, young man, I think you've ripped your pants."
The voice sounded aged and slightly concerned. It was probably some poor old woman who was just trying to help out. Darren felt his tail flick behind him. "No, maoowm, it's okay. Now please, I've got to get back to my post..." His voice had dropped a few ocatves and it sounded growly. He cursed whatever had done this to him.
"Oh, you sound awful. Sore throat?" The old woman asked. "Here, let me take a look..." Before Darren could stop her, the woman had walked around and stood facing him.
He found it disorienting, staring three feet down at a short, pitiful looking old woman in a faded pink blouse. The moment her eyes registered what she was looking at, terror rose in her face. "What in the world...oh my goodness!!" She shrieked, stepping back in shock. "What...are you?" She cried.
"Maaowm, please..." Darren choked. This was going from bad to worse.
Without another world, the woman ran screaming towards the manager's office. Darren called feebly after her, failing to draw her back.
A few moments later, the manager stepped out of his office. "Darren!" He cried.