[He lets out a sound - one meant for the cougar's vocal chords, that comes out as a more direct translation.]
Don't like it.
[Ears flat, but the irritation is with himself, not the panther. Things to learn to control now include the sounds made in different forms. He'll work on that later. But for now, there is an easy solution. The panther beside him is a person, not an animal, and it seems less likely he'll be mauled at the sushi bar. The smell of blood hasn't been elsewhere on the ship, or corpses and bones.
So he stretches, and there's a crunching shuddering sound as he transforms. Siffleur's fur grows matted, then melts together and grows pink as it transforms into skin. The bones in his body grind and break as necessary, reforming into their other shapes, and his insides all arrange themselves to an upright hominid form. His head undergoes the biggest transformation, his face melting inwards, fangs drawing back into a very different jaw.
By the end of the process, there's a tall and naked man sitting on a stool. He reaches out with his hand to pick up a plate with maki rolls and to pop one into his mouth.]
My mother told me stories about those things when I was little. Never saw any. Thought she and the world made them up. Guess not. None of us here by choice?
[It's a question and not one. This panther has already answered in the way he said it. Siffleur pushes the other roll around on the plat. The Captain fills this place with things, and doesn't care where they come from. Does it know what Siffleur is? Maybe. As he has learned, powerful things have as much madness as small ones.
Time for a better question. This one's been here a while. He should have an answer. Or an agenda. The panther chose to approach him despite the danger. Which means there was no danger at all, or this is a man whose wants were stronger than self-preservation. Both would explain much.]
no subject
Don't like it.
[Ears flat, but the irritation is with himself, not the panther. Things to learn to control now include the sounds made in different forms. He'll work on that later. But for now, there is an easy solution. The panther beside him is a person, not an animal, and it seems less likely he'll be mauled at the sushi bar. The smell of blood hasn't been elsewhere on the ship, or corpses and bones.
So he stretches, and there's a crunching shuddering sound as he transforms. Siffleur's fur grows matted, then melts together and grows pink as it transforms into skin. The bones in his body grind and break as necessary, reforming into their other shapes, and his insides all arrange themselves to an upright hominid form. His head undergoes the biggest transformation, his face melting inwards, fangs drawing back into a very different jaw.
By the end of the process, there's a tall and naked man sitting on a stool. He reaches out with his hand to pick up a plate with maki rolls and to pop one into his mouth.]
My mother told me stories about those things when I was little. Never saw any. Thought she and the world made them up. Guess not. None of us here by choice?
[It's a question and not one. This panther has already answered in the way he said it. Siffleur pushes the other roll around on the plat. The Captain fills this place with things, and doesn't care where they come from. Does it know what Siffleur is? Maybe. As he has learned, powerful things have as much madness as small ones.
Time for a better question. This one's been here a while. He should have an answer. Or an agenda. The panther chose to approach him despite the danger. Which means there was no danger at all, or this is a man whose wants were stronger than self-preservation. Both would explain much.]
What do we really do here?