Jedao yips happily to find Dogma now entirely in range of how short he is, and curls up half against his flank, half draped on top of his shoulders. Ten or fifteen minutes sounds like ages right now, and he intends to spend some of it cuddling in the sunlight. Dronebait, chastened but hardly discouraged, plays a game of Bother with him, wriggling forward curiously from different angles and then darting away from the lazy swipe of a paw, while Dogma looks long-suffering.

After a few minutes, once Dogma is mostly relaxed underneath him, Jedao slides back into manform, legs tucked under him now, still pressed against the bulk of the werewolf's side, petting Dogma gently. The fox's pleased high trills slide into baritone words without so much as a missed breath.

"You're a good boy, that's right. I'm very glad to see you, here and healthy. And you're a good boy too, of course you are," he adds when Dronebait launches half his weight into Jedao's lap, sensing opportunity. Jedao scritches his ears with his other hand, then glances abruptly up to Tup and Echo, watching the scene unfolding with amusement mixed with other emotions. Jedao's smile turns from sweet and silly to something older, steadier, and he holds Echo's eyes, gives him a slow, respectful nod.

"You're a brave one. I know all you boys are. But he's lucky to have you."