Being touched was a surprise, to say the least. If it had been any of the other Norse, Fenrir probably would have shown just how sharp his teeth still were. But this was Tyr, and Fenrir's instincts when it came to the other god were deeply ingrained. Tyr petting him was something as familiar as wagging his tail or curling up to sleep. Fenrir tilted his head, like a dog being scratched, and felt an odd sense of loss when Tyr stepped away.
"Also shaped like human now," Fenrir said, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "You have both hands. You told me that, I know, but...you have it back. That's...good for you."