Her eyes are on the floor when she enters the room, and when she looks up, all she can see is a flurry of black and red leaping towards her. The hand at her mouth is a good idea, though she struggles to scream anyway, brown eyes going wide with shock as well as a good amount of fear. And said struggle leads to three three potentially disastrous events.

Her coffee cup flies from her hand, nearly tossed as she tries to back away from the person she now realizes is wearing a mask. The books and file drop from her other arm, the former hitting the floor with a very solid thunk. And, of course, as she tries to move backwards, she steps on the now scattered papers of the autopsy report she'd just been trying to put away and is on her way to falling to the hard tile.