#(inbox.)

STOP PUTTING YOURSELF INTO DANGER ! ( accepting )

" oh, sorry, was i supposed to just stand there & let you get shot ? " francine scoffs . " they're russians, steve - they were not going to hesitate in shooting you . " clearly - if the bullet graze on the side of her waist was any indication of that fact . lucky for her, it wasn't bleeding terribly, but she would probably need some stitches for it . it wasn't that much deeper than a paper cut - though, those did tend to bleed a ton, for some reason . " let's just get out of here, alright ? we can argue about it later . . . " she grimaces as she holds her side, the stinging becoming more noticeable & painful as the adrenaline slowly started to wane .

oh..

Felix has been lazing around in bed for longer than usual; it's been a more socially demanding week for him than most are and he's finding he needs the recovery time.

It doesn't hurt. It's just a very unsettling feeling as his ears seem to melt away into the side of his head, followed by an itching along his scalp as they reform, larger, more sensitive, with a thin layer of fur. His hands come up and his fingers trace over the angular shapes, forehead creasing in confusion.

He then feels an itch that starts at the bottom of his spine and seems to stretch out further from there.

It's almost like there's an arbitrary hand behind it all. Why does the transformation of his body this time not come with pain? He tries to look behind himself and feels the twitch of muscles he doesn't remember having. A moment later one of his hands is exploring over the tail.

He reaches for his phone and uses the selfie camera to get a look at himself.