"Saoirse--" Greta grimaces as she sets the box back on the counter. "That really is very loud, darling." Not that there's any reason for a seal to have an 'indoor voice,' but still. It's almost enough to make her miss those early days before her coat had arrived, when the little lass hardly made a peep.

There's a beat where it looks like Saoirse might attempt to retreat into the tub, and Greta sucks a breath between her teeth. As seals go, Saoirse's small enough that Greta has no immediate fear for the sturdier fixtures. But she's never been graceful out of the water, and she's heavy enough that she could either break something less sturdy or harm herself if she tries anything foolish (anything else foolish, that is).

"Here," Greta says, patting her lap, her tone gentle but with a thread of no-nonsense steel running through it. "Stop squirming around like that and let me take a look at you."