I wasn’t the one who ordered the wholesale remodeling of all the classrooms on the first floor of the human female’s building. I wasn’t the one who ripped out all the seating, filled the entire edifice with paint fumes, or arranged for various bangings and mechanical whinings at all hours of the day and night.
I *may* have been the one who poked and nudged until the workmen were far behind schedule, to the point that there’s a betting pool as to whether the rooms will be available on the first day of the semester, which is in less than a week. (What can I say? I like to see humans sweat.)
I definitely wasn’t the one who drove some overlarge piece of apparatus through the double doors and into the wall display about radio-collar tracking of the campus’ squirrel population.
Whoever it was broke the glass, and it’s all boarded up now.
I know, Sigyn! It’s more than a little alarming.
I think you may want to leave now, dearest, and not examine things any more closely.
‘Cause I think Mister Dead Squirrel is still in there…