Methuseld watched, essentially seething, as Donovan walked in. She knew these next few moments were key if she were to escape, fox in hand. But then Donovan said something that completely took her by surprise. The fox was a shapeshifter? She looked at the creature, barely masking her surprise. And yet now it made more sense than ever: why the fox could communicate telepathically, why it seemed to behave so intelligently and think so coherently. That it was a shapeshifter now seemed almost more believable.<br/><br/>Donovan said something about her being able to return to her "master" that snapped Methuseld out of her thoughts. She turned away from the two, but the brief look of disgust on her face was as noticeable as a black cat in the snow. She couldn't help picture a groveling slave returning to do the Vizier's bidding, and it sickened her. She was not his slave. She was not broken. Just... powerless. At the moment. Until she figured out how to undo the blasted djinn's curse.<br/><br/>Glowering gaze shifted to the busty Elf who came in with the shadow man she'd fought in the building. Just seeing him again made her blood boil, but acting on petty desires for vengeance did not suit her well. The Elf seemed to know her, as anyone with half a brain did. "Piss off, Elf," she spat out and turned away. The sooner she got the fox back to the Vizier, the better... Something she never thought she'd say.