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“Are you okay?”
Puar let out a little squeaking groan, her eyes slitted and a despairing grimace contorting her face. Yamcha gently patted her head, a sympathetic smile inching suspiciously close to incredibly amused. She hissed and bared small sharp teeth.
“Puar, don’t be like that. You’re the one who morphed and went mud-diving. Now you can’t morph again for an hour and you need a bath!”
She opened her eyes enough to fix him with an icy glare. She hated baths. Particularly when it was Yamcha shampooing mud out of her fur. He was always so smug about it.