He's as toned as ever, but he might be putting on a little more bulk, as well. Good food and the opportunity to exercise as he wishes, rather than fight demons for days on end, has been good to him.

He watches her go; if either of them had their tails up any higher they'd have trouble walking. After another cup of water dumped over his head, and then a third one which he drinks, he emerges from the house, still shirtless but toweled off.

"I have some little wooden sticks we can write on," he says in answer to her question, and crouches next to her. "Nothing particularly fancy, but they'll do for now."