Pangur Bán is the official defender of this bookshop, and he is very good at his job.” “Well, the cat has a name,” Jon informs him in their most esteemed professional voice, “and a very fine one at that. They look back up at Martin, and gesture halfheartedly towards their stack of books. “Yes, yes, I’m petting you, don’t worry,” they say, resuming what must be their earlier petting.
The cat mmrps in their lap and butts their head against their hand.
