The door in front of you is engraved with the image of a round feline face, you notice as you grasp the handle and pull it open. At the barest glance, the lab seems almost organized, but as you truly step in, surrounded by the soft sound of old music, the nest-like nature of the space becomes clear. There is little rhyme or reason to the stacks that litter every flat surface and even occupy the single chair, while the scientist responsible for the mess- short and stout- turns to look at you with a lopsided smile, a blue-clawed Stranga Scuiro clinging to their arm. "Oh, hello! Can we help you?"