Watching the two little girls turn into wolves was something of a surprise for Lauren, but not so much that she'd give herself away. It made the scent make sense, at least - that must be what weres smelled like. It did make her a tiny bit nervous, however, sitting on an exam table as a marten with two baby wolves roaming about. The exam table - the clinic, actually - had been a surprise. What were the odds that she'd get picked up by an actual vet? Then again, what were the odds that a non-vet would stop to pick up a wild animal? Or what looked like a wild animal, anyway.
Lauren couldn't stifle a soft yelp when her shoulder was popped back in, but the pain lasted only a second before her entire shoulder started to feel much better. Sadly, it wasn't her first experience with a dislocation, but at least they tended to heal up pretty quickly. And it wasn't her tattooing arm, so working would be uncomfortable at first but not impossible. She grimaced at the wood splint; as a human, dislocations only required a sling for a little while, but apparently here it meant a splint. Well, she'd take care of that as soon as she had a second of privacy.
And privacy she got soon enough - more or less. Lauren didn't really want to change in front of the two wolves, but she had a feeling if she didn't get out of there it was going to mean a cage - and there was no goddamn way she was letting herself be caged up. Teeth and sharp claws, wielded in a way a wild animal would never have managed, made enough tears in the bandage holding the splint on that it wouldn't cut off her circulation when she shifted. She didn't want to try jumping from the exam table with a bad shoulder and ribs that still hurt, so she grit her teeth and decided to shift right there. If the girls were paying attention, they'd probably just think she was a were. They were young.
Shifting hurt like a bitch, as always, and the added bruises didn't help. Lauren managed to stifle any pained noises, the marten skin sliding into her hands as she straightened, fully human. Luckily for her, there was a pair of scrubs within reach, and she wasted no time pulling them on. The vet would be back any second; as soon as she was dressed, she folded the marten skin quickly but carefully, secured it in the waistband of the scrub pants, and snuck towards the door. She felt bad ditching, but she didn't want to answer any uncomfortable questions, and she made a note to remember the address of the place so she could drop off some cash later for her care.