"Nine-- pardon?" But then he remembers, sort of fuzzily, being told about that. "Oh, right. That... police thing." Which makes about as much sense as everything else. He frowns, glancing back over his shoulder at the pair of them, and adds grimly: "Let's hope you don't need them."

And right about then, the moon starts to show its face. Lyall actually recoils from the window, letting the curtain fall. He only has what notes he left himself, none of which actually mention how much changing hurts. It's not as bad as it would have been, but there's still a sharp pain in his ankles, arms, mouth, and eyes-- a few bones break, anyway, and he sags sideways against the wall as his legs decide they'd rather not hold him up during this little partial change, thank you very much. And there's a kind of burning along the sides of his neck, and down his back and calves, as under his clothes a bit of fur sprouts despite the distance from Locke.

The only really visible thing, though, are that his teeth go all sharp and his eyes all gold. He's not a wolf... but there's a couple parts of him that are at least trying.