Theodore's -- well, not his, technically, because his weren't nearly as shapely on a regular basis -- lips pressed into a line. They felt strange there, thicker than usual and hiding differently shaped teeth. Even his tongue felt different. Smaller, an easier fit as he counted those new teeth to stay calm. Usually, staying calm was easier, but this felt so outlandish and awful and unfamiliar and so utterly at odds with usual that he scarcely knew how to regulate his emotions. Those, too, felt newer -- brighter, stronger, closer to the surface -- but Theodore knew that to be impossible, because even if his body was, was... strange, his brain must have been the same. It simply must have been.
He wanted to object that this was not the time for an inquisition, but there was something calming about the soft expanse of Tracey's palm, something straightforward and sensible about being asked to prove himself.
"I can't tell you something only I would know," he said wryly, curling up smaller, shorter fingers around a button on his dressing gown. "But we both know you came to me for advice about your husband. Or is it ex-husband now? It's been a few days since last we spoke."