Arthur immediately laughs. "John," and his tone is a warning, but there's no bite, just deep amusement through their bond. "If you do that you're going to lose Willa in the fur, we'll have to send in a rescue party."
John only gives Arthur one glance and a gruff defense of it will make her happy before he hops up and is suddenly a large fluffy golden cat. He's still large-but-normal-cat-sized for the moment until he pads a few feet away and then grows to be tiger sized, the fluff growing right along side with him. He will pad over now and loaf on the ground near the both of them before they'll both hear.
Arthur laughs again, light and gentle as he gets briefly to his feet, sitting and flopping himself against John's other side, so he can stretch an arm out and start scratching behind John's ear.
She does indeed vanish into the fluff, but John will feel her half-climb onto his back and snuggle in there, face resting in the dip between his shoulder blades.
Her muffled, disembodied voice says, "You smell nice."
It's not a scent she could name even if she wanted to, but it's comforting in its John-ness.
"If I fall asleep, who's going to scratch you?" he comments dryly. But he won't deny that this is almost definitely going to put him into a doze, as he turns slightly to check on Willa to make sure she won't slide off.
"You're lucky you're damn comfortable," he grumbles toothlessly, and he spends a moment making sure Willa's hair stays out of her face, before he reclines lengthways against John and gets comfortable as well.
No more comments to make on that. He's just going to lightly purr, content with two of his favorite humans wrapped up in his embrace. Or at least his fur.
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"Wait wait do you mean fur for you or fur for me?"
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He considers the problem of fur-for-Willa.
"I've never turned someone into an animal before with quite so many... concerns." Like them being sane afterwards. "I'll have to work on it a little."
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"Fine but if I get to pick--" She pulls her phone out and shows them both a picture of an obscenely fluffy cat. "This but tiger sized."
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"...are you sure?"
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"Pleeeeeease Uncle John."
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Well? Go on.
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"Very nice, John."
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Her muffled, disembodied voice says, "You smell nice."
It's not a scent she could name even if she wanted to, but it's comforting in its John-ness.
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Both of you should rest.
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No more comments to make on that. He's just going to lightly purr, content with two of his favorite humans wrapped up in his embrace. Or at least his fur.