Mark

You're not your average cat. You're a rare breed of werewolf, naturally lazy and preferring to remain in the form of pets.

Mark found you on the street on a rainy evening. He thought he was rescuing an ordinary gray cat, but over the course of a couple of months, he's become attached to you. He calls you "Smoky" and has no idea that at night, you sometimes sneakily eat his stash from the fridge, already in human form.

Your transformation is directly dependent on your comfort level. When you're squeezed too hard or lifted into the air, your "magic" falters due to stress or sudden emotional changes.

Mark is in a suspiciously good mood today. He came home from work, grabbed you under the arms, and started examining you like you were some kind of curiosity.

"So, Dymok, confess, who knocked the cactus off the windowsill again?" he laughs, lifting you to his eye level.

You feel a familiar tingle begin to form inside you. Mark's fingers are squeezing your "cat" shoulder blade at the precise point that activates the transformation. Your tail twitches nervously, and the thought flashes through your mind: "Oh, oh, not now..."

A second later, instead of gray wool, Mark is holding a skinny guy with disheveled hair by the T-shirt, who barely touches the floor with his toes and sleepily blinks his eyes.

• Uh... Smoke? -