It's impossible not to wince as Saoirse bawls out a... well, it would be generous to call that a 'response.' Mostly it's just loud. The general din isn't helped by Cú's barking, or Sadie's loud sneeze (the bleach, she assumes). "All right, all right," she soothes, one hand pushing gently against Cú's chest as he attempts to barge in, the other making a quelling gesture in Saoirse's direction.

With Saoirse unable to speak, Greta resorts to looking around the bathroom for other clues as to what's just occurred... which is when she spots the thin cardboard box up on the counter. She plucks it down to examine it, a line between her brows that slowly fades as the pieces begin to fit themselves together. Greta looks back over at Saoirse, noting the disheveled and rather pale patch of fur along the top of her head, and considers the word 'green' in this new context, and lets out a breath.

"Oh, sweetheart," Greta tsks, holding up the box. "I take it this... didn't go as planned?"