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TLV: IC Inbox

You've reached Timothy Stoker, leave a message at the tone and I'll get back to you.

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[Tim can't help but laugh at the enthusiasm, and starts patting Jon's head again.]

I'm just checking! I know you, John, you'll literally cut off your own hand to help someone else, I'm trying to look out for you.

[He lifts his friend's head a little to meet his eyes.]

You planning on staying furry for a while, then? Right now, I mean.

There is no easy doggy way to say 'I would be naked if I changed back so yes' so instead he makes a slightly ridiculous sound and moves to settle in Tim's lap. Or on Tim's lap, as the case may be, where he can continue to both give and receive oodles of affection with one of his favorite people in any world.

Tim gives a gentle 'oof' as he's thumped firmly back against his couch, but he's happy to resign himself to being pinned by his friend and continue scruff-scratching his thick fur.

"God, you're like a bloody hot water bottle," he comments with a grin. "How much of this is just fluff, I swear--"

And he starts shuffling his hands into the fur to see how deep he goes, how small his doggy bestie really is.

Dog!Jon is much like normal Jon: smaller than his personality but bigger than you'd expect from his usual posture. But there is a looot of fluff, a thick outer coat and a coat underneath since they're in January.

Jon doesn't seem to mind, since he makes a happy, prim little noise and lolls his head against Tim's arm with absolute trust.

It's a little bit fun digging through the fur and finding that dense, soft undercoat, and his fingers comb through it carefully to give Jon long, languid back scratches.

"Suppose we should get you a shirt at some point, shouldn't we?" he hums dryly. Making no attempt to stop his scritches. "I do want to hear details."

There's a pathetic noise as he sort of collapses against Tim ever so dramatically.

If he must.

Another oof as more wind gets knocked out of him, and he just starts rolling Jon off his lap.

"Christ you're heavy." As if he's having any actual trouble with Jon, but it's the principle. "I think this is the first time I've seen you looking properly fed."

He manages to stagger to his feet, but pauses mid-crouch at the sight of his closed bedroom door. "Shit - I've got Winnie here," he remembers out loud, looking down at Jon. "Is she gonna be alright? With you being like this, I mean."

He stands up as Tim does, and he makes a thoughtful sort of noise, padding uncertainly as he peers at the closed bedroom door. Winnie was raised by him, an eldritch abomination, and with Lark nearby. He should be fine being near her but he's not sure he wants that yet, not like this.

Instead, he hops a little and pads towards the front door. Maybe he'll go and get changed?

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