Girl-Aza sat and hugged the fox and only yawned once or twice while the others labored at the oars. She watched Dean and Donovan sneak glances at the other, no doubt wishing they could speak privately within their partnership, without womanly or foxy ears so near. The first question asked would probably be "what the fuck?"<br/><br/>Methuseld didn't even attempt conversation, just rowed and looked particularly crabby. Apparently, after their brief near-sex interlude, Aza and the general didn't have much in common anymore. Well, whatever. Aza had her other fox-self for now, with whom she got along just excellently.<em>Hmm</em>, said that fox, its sky-colored gaze thoughtfully cast on how the strengthening sun glinted pink off Methuseld's metal plating. Something was up with that stuff.<br/><br/>"Hmm," Aza agreed, then turned to watch the nearing docks. Civilization. Aza liked that. Civilization meant comforts. Baths and beds and, away from the shore, foods that weren't fish. She was already scouting the lake view of the largest inn among the waterside storefronts when Dean had to bring the mood back down by pointing out all the people already waiting there to kill them. She gave him another sidelong stare at his additional complaint of being 'drained.' And he was suggesting that was her fault? Like hell. Maybe next time he'd know when to quit.<br/><br/><em>Next time,</em>the fox echoed, its tiny pearly sharply-pointed teeth showing in a grin. Aza hmph'd again and drew her hood up against the sun and her view of Dean, looking instead at the ships moored along the long piers. "Avoid<em>and </em>attack," she murmured.<em><strong>Fox's</strong> paw</em>, the fox chimed in, standing on the girl's knee to place both wickedly clawed, little front feet on the side of the boat, ready to be the first to hop to the dock.