Martin manages a weak huff of his own, holding onto John a moment longer before finally, a bit reluctantly loosening his grip and taking a small step back. He gives John a gently assessing once over before crouching down a bit shakily to greet their cat.

"We really ought to adjust the budget for that," he offers in a feeble bid for humor, which he thinks is near enough the mark considering the state of things. He takes a moment to focus on petting The Bishop, who answers obligingly by cramming his whole purring face into Martin's palm, and once he feels acceptably normalized, he looks back up. Now that he's lowered himself thus, he's not sure he can get to his feet again; the temptation to just sit on the floor is a bit appallingly strong.

Still, he doesn't like the idea of John being out of his sight for even a moment, and he raises his hand. "Help me up?" he adds rather unnecessarily, parts of him still very much on autopilot.