The last person to leave locked the lobby door with a snap. Inside, a fragrant hyacinth on the receptionist's desk began to shamble. It dragged itself by its leaves across the surface and procured a few items: a stapler, a notepad, a pen, a sewing patch kit, and a paperclip box.
The hyacinth arranged each item in front of it, and assumed a stable position before them. "There's a mole here," it began to lecture, "wearing a clever disguise. It absurdly thinks it's going to steal company secrets. But I know its identity!
"It's me! I'm a plant, get it?"