Jack and the blond man hurled themselves free of each other and stood, in somewhat defensive positions, eyeing one another. Jack was still uncomfortable with the blond man, but saw nothing more that could be done. Attacking him wasn't going to bring the page back, not now.
"What do you want with th-- Hold on." When he spoke, it sounded like Clint Eastwood gargling nails. It was a chore for his beastly vocal cords to form anything that resembled words. He took a step back, arms outstreched. His face, feet, and arms shortened back into a human proportion. The bristly fur that covered his body began to sink back in, through his rapidly whitening skin, and in the werewolf's place stood Jack Russell, once again.
He cleared his throat, then gruffly said, "Anyway. What do you want with the page?"