He glanced over them briefly, and gave Eliot a faint smile. He'd regret watching, but that was his decision.
He knew exactly where the wolf was in him, more so now than a few weeks ago. The time he'd spent locked up had brought them closer together, so it was a simple thing to grab hold of everything savage and animal in him and let it overtake him the same way it did during fits of anger. He had claws and teeth nearly immediately, with a minimum of pain (he was so used to them now that they nearly felt normal). He pulled his shirt off, tossed that aside before the change hit him in earnest.
The sounds of it were ugly, the sight much more so. Bones bent and cracked, legs snapping at the knees to re-arrange themselves, a muzzle forming out of what had been a human face as fur spread over his body. He didn't scream. Not fighting it every step of the way as he did on the moon made a difference, but it still hurt, and short, bitten-off sounds of pain devolved into whimpers.
When it was done, he had just enough energy to kick away the pants he'd been wearing before wearily laying his head on the cool stone, eyes shut, panting for breath. A minute, and he'd be up. One blue eye opened and rolled toward Eliot, watching.