[It's not as if Daan is unfamiliar with killing in his own right. Though he had ensured that his own grief was never made someone else's problem, he also was perfectly fine with defending himself.

And thus, that was how a man killed his own wife.]

Just like everyone else, huh? I don't know about that, pal. Because I'm about to do something very stupid for your sake, Roland.

[Daan lets out a sigh, then mutters, clearly not speaking to his fellow widower:] I know you'll remember this, you damned cat. And you were disappointed that you didn't earn me last time. So now you owe me, if you're a good merchant. I gift you myself, in so long as you give this man his medicine.

[The good doctor has his drink of green tea, and so swift are the changes. He grits his teeth, feeling his bones creak, snap, and stretch as he becomes uncannily taller. His eye glows a bright yellow, fingers end in claws, and that horrible rubber mask blossoms over his head.

When the change is done, there's just the Pocketcat, sliding one hand into his pocket.

A jovial laugh escapes him.]

My old friend, you tricky little thing. I do so love a good bargain, and this... is rather generous of you. Truly, our bond is deep.

[A pair of wide, yellow eyes set their sights on Roland, and the cat gestures to him in a flourish.]

Roland! I was so heartbroken we didn't meet last time. And here you are, not dressed in your finest, are you? Ah, but we all have our bad days, my friend. I know those too well.

So! Are we to do this, meat to claw? Not very gentlemanly of you.

Oh, behave.