A day in the Karasuma clinic.
"I confess, the sight of my darling Ginsei in an apron stirs me strangely," announced Karasuma-sensei blithely, apropos of nothing.
Taketo blinked. The deceptively placid giant Persian he was holding down took advantage of his - distraction - well, the complete shutdown of his mental processes, really - to twist free and leap off the examination table. Taketo just barely avoided getting vaccinated against feline influenza (though this was more by dumb luck than any conscious intention on his part).
"Hey! Where are you going?" Karasuma-sensei sounded hurt. "Honeypoo!"
Taketo flailed vaguely in the direction of the escapee, his brain still stuttering between whether the apron remark was Too Much Information or merely an innocent expression of Karasuma-sensei's usual effusive affection and regard for Ginsei, which was entirely possible but might have equally, conceivably been Too Much Information only he hadn't realised before the apron that broke the camel's back.
At the last instant, he managed to pull together enough presence of mind to slam the door shut just as Honeypoo made a break for it from her fortified position beneath the desk. She skidded to a halt before the closed door and bounced once, tangled orange fur bristling, and spitting angrily at finding herself trapped. She looked very like a large, belligerent pompom.
"Oh, Honeypoo," sighed Karasuma-sensei. "We're not trying to hurt you. It's just a little prick. You won't even feel it!" Honeypoo expressed her opinion of that idea in very rude-sounding terms and attempted to scramble up the medicine cabinet. "Honeypoo!"
Taketo firmly put all thoughts of aprons out of his mind, because he didn't need to imagine - he - he had /aprons of his own/, for mercy's sake - and flung himself on Honeypoo. Then he let her skitter out of his grasp again when the door opened and Ginsei looked in. "You called, Kaoru?"