Paw-based pats are inefficient. He shifts human unselfconsciously and scritches between her ears. "Empathy's pretty great, yeah."

"Yes! It is!" She pauses thoughtfully. "Ooo, hold on, I think I can be fluffy." She closes her eyes and hums to herself, then abruptly shifts into an opossum.

"Ha! There I go! And now I am fluffy, carry on, sir."

"There's a neat trick," he says, carrying on the scritches. "I do hope you realize I had to work on taking this form for over a year with the personal help of a three-hundred-year-old shaman. You, my friend, are cheating."

"Yep!" she says, without a sliver of guilt. "I can't just shift into anything, though, my cheating self knowledge doesn't extend that far. Just things that I can be, one of which is apparently a possum. I can't turn human, I checked."

"Pity. Opposable thumbs are a great delight."

"I have opposable thumbs as a dragon," she says, amused. "As a possum too, actually. They're just on my feet, which is super weird."

"Well, that's good."

Downstairs, Harry comes out of his trance. The model train is chugging merrily along, passing by a different coin every few seconds. The enameled leaf sits sparkling in the conductor's seat.

"Well, that should be fun," Harry says, dusting off nothing in particular from his hands.

"Should be," agrees Veron, amused. "I'll give a head's up to friends in the areas I have friends in. I don't think there's much reason for them to land on anyone I know in the Underdark, but I'd hate to catch anyone off guard. And if they land on anyone I know in the Plane of Shadow they will be, uh, in my territory." He coughs. "I expect them to have a bad time."

(Bob begins humming a repetitive chiptune under his "breath.")

Harry starts clambering up the ladder, head still turned to face Veron. "I think our next step should be to investigate Marcone's disappearance. I think I know where to start, too; he operates a secret brothel nearby, and it's run by one of the few people I've ever known him to actually trust."

"Sure, sounds good," agrees Veron, following behind Harry. "Should I be sneaky like last time you were investigating? That seemed to work out pretty well, and I don't think I'd be all that helpful with it."

"Yeah, probably a good idea. It did work out, and why," he says, entering the living room, "are you naked."

"Clothes are mortal bullshit," David says mildly.

"... Um," says Veron. He conscientiously covers his eyes, rather than get an eyeful. "I acknowledge your stance there, it is probably real uncomfortable to be a shapeshifter with clothes getting in your way, but we mortals sure would appreciate it if you would please put some pants on."

  "Oh! Oh no, they do care about you being naked or not, don't they. Sorry! It was convenient for him to have opposable thumbs!" says the not-a-dragon.

That sure is an expression Veron is making, isn't it.

David rolls his eyes, but retrieves and dons his boxers.

"I'm decent now, you can stop squeaking at me."

"Much obliged, thanks." He uncovers his eyes, and...

... that sure is a Harry Dresden lookalike that is just in boxers, isn't it. Maybe. Maybe it would have been smart to wait until David had on more clothes before looking.

Um.

It takes a couple seconds before he remembers he should probably not be looking.

"... So I'm just going to, I'll, be right back I have a thing to do," he says too quickly, and then he disappears into black smoke.

"David."

"I genuinely didn't know that was going to happen." He pauses. "I remain agnostic on whether I would've done it anyway if I had. That was funny."

"Oh no," his soul giggles. "Oh no, I'm sorry, poor Veron. He'll be back, really, he's fine."

"And when he does, David will have put his damn pants on."

"Fascist," David grumbles, acquiring pants.

"Do you know when he'll be back?" Harry asks the nameless opossum.

"Uhhhh... A couple of minutes, maybe? It won't be long, he just. Needed to be away."

"Well alright then."

Harry sits in an armchair and retrieves a book from a nearby end table.