She knew she'd been spotted, but Anya wasn't one to run. She just held onto the wall for stability, and she watched him change. It was, in some way, confirmation that all that she'd seen was real, true; almost like pinching yourself to see if you're dreaming.
He'd changed from a wolf to a man, there was a voice in her head, and people could hear her thoughts. It was the 1920s, and she was freezing. Her knees gave way, and she slid to a sitting position against the wall.
Okay, this had all just become a little too overwhelming.