PUT YOUR CATS DOWN LIKE A SANE PERSON AND KNOCK ON THE DOOR.

You gently place your bags down to knock on the door, but just as you return to standing erect, the door is opened from the other side. Roz is standing there and you make it a point to take in her appearance, not even attempting to be subtle.

The first thing you notice is that she isn't wearing the dark eyeshadow or bright red lipstick you've always associated with her. It makes her look a little younger, but the lines on her face still exaggerate her age. It's always been difficult to process that she was only forty-six, twelve years older than you. You've always made sure to take care of yourself as far as your appearance went.

The next thing you notice is that she's wearing a loose black tank top and a pair of sweatpants with white socks. You actually can't help but spend a moment longer than necessary staring at her chest, it's almost a habit now since it's large-- and her hips aren't anything to complain about either. Sometimes it's a little intimidating. Actually, a lot of times it is.

You scramble to pick up your carriers again when you notice she's waiting for you to stop staring. Looking at her face lets you know that she's amused to some degree, and it reminds you of your earlier conversation over the phone. Your body warms up in embarrassment and you're sure the hint of a blush has made its way across your cheeks, but you stand tall to make up for it. She sees right through you though and her smug posture does not change. You aren't sure how to talk to her so the both of you stand in silence until she finally speaks up, "Couldn't bear to part with your cats, huh."

It's an observation, and you have absolutely no shame in your love for your cats and all cats in general, but for some reason when she states it aloud it chips away at your pride.

"Absolutely not. It is not a matter of sentiments though as you're so quick to believe. I simply refuse to allow anyone to mistreat my cats. Now, may I come in?" She knows you're just being defensive with her and brushes you off. It's infuriating but simultaneously relieving, you don't want to argue before you've even stepped foot through the door. She wordlessly opens it and steps out of the way with a sniffle. You carry your cats inside and let them out as she closes the door. Roz has never cared about you letting your cats run around her home, she's largely indifferent to these things unless she's gaining amusement from watching your interactions with them.

You take the carriers and place them out of the way while your cats inspect the familiar environment. Roz follows you into the main room on the way to the kitchen, you join her soon after.

"What is it exactly that you'd like me to do for you?" you ask, and it doesn't come out as politely or as formally as you wanted. You're not entirely sure why you bother to maintain your façade in private with her but you suppose that it has something to do with the way she treats you. She always puts you on edge, sometimes in more than one way. You don't admit that to her.