Indulgent as Angel is, apparently, it's head lifts, inviting him to keep scritching further. 'More scritch-scratch!' is it's content sqwark, eyes half-closed immediately after. Enough to make Angel smile before she turns back to the matter at hand. Good for nothing feather ball, only in it for the scratches.

"Alright, big guy." It's soothing, as she reaches to the stag with a hand to its shoulder. "One foot in front of the other. But not straight."

Doesn't transform, even if it'd be easier, but she leans over bending from the waist to double over, pressing on the tip of her claws to hold her weight. It ought to be ungainly, but she was more comfortable on these legs this way than not, as it turned out, flexible for it. The tingle of transformation that beckons but she keeps back. "Then keep your back legs to support you. That's where you jump front. Front legs are for navigating."