"Yes, I can!" she protests, despite all evidence to the contrary. She finally manages to get her arm into the sleeve, making a quiet sound of triumph before pushing herself up into a sitting position. Her other shoulder slips out from under the jacket as she flails around trying to stay covered while pulling it onto her properly.

Maya tries not to think too hard about just what he'd seen. Or the fact thathe's totally watching now.

She huffs. "I can control when I turn," she amends. Mostly. "It's turning back that's the problem. Most werewolves are the same, you know. Some of us only have genetic enhancements to make us exist at all, okay?"