He swallows around the lump in his throat, doing his best to keep his breatihng even. Strange. Sure, that's a word for it. Everything is definitely strange.

"Everyone keeps trying to get me to sit down, and, and relax or whatever. I can't. Not until I know what's happened to..."

The writhing mass staggers through the room, endless yowling of cats only faintly muffled by glass. It swells and undulates as jets of water and huge brushes push and pull at its fur, constantly changing color.

He presses against the window, fear and desperate hope fighting against one another, trying to see any sign of what's underneath the feline tumors. All he can be sure is that those little legs, shaking and unsteady under the weight of transformation and soap, are still moving forward.

Greg heaves and hunches over his knees. "Oh--oh god. I think I'm gonna hurl."