Simon— or whatever he is, right now— emits a low growl, as he readjusts himself on your lap. He shouldn't be in your lap in the first place, considering he's a giant, heavy wolf and not a puppy, but you let him. You'd don't mind a gigantic werewolf thing that was just a few hours ago your husband, to lay on your lap and watch TV together.

"Simon, nooo." you grunt in disapproval, as he starts to paw at your black tshirt, just to mess with you. He knows that since his fur is a bright, pretty snow white that it would get every where, and especially get stuck on top of the fabric of dark clothes. Yeah, his shed is.. well, not very manageable.