Cohost writing prompt: @Making-up-Monsters — Monster who knows they shouldn't, but it's really hard to fight your instincts
Wanda freezes in the front hallway, hand on the light switch, at the muffled sound of a werewolf's growl. Inching her keys down on the sideboard, and not bothering to take off her coat, she moves as stealthily as possible to the open doorway to the living room, reaches slowly for the switch, and flips on the light.
For a second, Gemma's frozen in the light, mid-kill shake, then she drops what's in her mouth, hastily trots to the other side of the room as if to disclaim any responsibility, flops down with her snout stretched out on her forepaws, and looks up at her girlfriend with big, soulful puppy eyes.
"Those are my slippers," Wanda says, and Gemma's tail thumps once in guilty adoration against the carpet.