Muffin was staring at him, and John stared right back. Their rivalry went back years - John still had a scar from when she'd first jumped on his goddamn head, if you looked close enough - and though John could ignore her most of the time and Muffin was happy to return the favor, every once in a while she got a little ornery. More than usual, anyway.
It wasn't like he was doing much of anything - he'd dropped by the compound for a shower and a quick breakfast after ITF training, and was finishing off his coffee in the rec room as he waited for Lee. He was a little antsy to get out on patrol, even if it was clear they weren't going to be doing much to help a little girl gone crazy when half the IPD already had it under control.
John had a few other things on his mind, anyway. Or one thing. Person.
"What?" he asked Muffin, looking over the top of the random Sports Illustrated he'd picked up off the bookshelf. She continued to stare at him for a few long seconds, whiskers whirring away before she practically sniffed and stalked out of the rec room. John couldn't really find it in himself to care if she was plotting his or Cash's doom.
He was in too much of a good mood to let Muffin bother him.