"Am I a woman?" Marcus asks, even though he already knows the answer to the question, even without having to investigate any further. Without having to look in a mirror. He can feel it in the smoothness of his skin and hear it in the pitch of his voice. His accent hasn't changed at all, but he also doesn't quite sound like himself.
"Am I a bloody woman?"
Beside him, Trass huffs out an irritated breath, as if his anxiety at having discovered himself in a different body is disruptive to the wolf's sleep, and a moment later he's sliding off the bed and returning to the dog bed in the corner. Given how little he's reacting to the change, Marcus has to think he must smell the same, too. Rather, at least similar enough that Trass doesn't think he's a stranger, because Trass really isn't fond of strangers at all.
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"Am I a bloody woman?"
Beside him, Trass huffs out an irritated breath, as if his anxiety at having discovered himself in a different body is disruptive to the wolf's sleep, and a moment later he's sliding off the bed and returning to the dog bed in the corner. Given how little he's reacting to the change, Marcus has to think he must smell the same, too. Rather, at least similar enough that Trass doesn't think he's a stranger, because Trass really isn't fond of strangers at all.