"Tim...?"
Saul's voice sounded rather up-beat and cheerful as he came into the house with (by the sounds of it) four or five of the guys. Timothy kept his head down in the huge basket of dirty laundry and held his breath. His sensitive, vulpine nose picked up all the scents his previous, human body had left behind and -frankly- it was starting to make his eyes water.
"Timothy? Should we start in on th' Haversome Mansion shipment?"
Scott, stepping up to loom over the smaller Saul, clapped his hand against the thinner man's back. "He's probably popped out to McDonalds or somethin'... Come on, tiny ... let's get workin'..."
Saul chuckled, pushing Scott's hand off of his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah... Give it a rest."
Feeling the rush of air from the open door, a sinking sensation ran through the newly-created fox. He swallowed and realized that his huge, bushy tail was still sticking out of the basket. It *might* be mistaken for a stole, wrap or other piece of exotic clothing from the salvage yard, but it would still be suspicious.
Gingerly ...carefully... Timothy pulled his tail under the mound of clothing, with the rest of him.
Timothy could hear their voices terribly close, now; he could even smell them over the stench of the laundry. He tried to remain as still as he could listening as his workers moved throughout his home, looking for him.
"Look guys," came a new voice -probably Marco's, "let's go out and get started. Tim'll be back from wherever he is soon enough. I bet he'll be proud t' see how much we've gotten done..."
"Yeah," thought Timothy, ruefully, "not a bad idea..."
"Fair enough," came Scott's reply. "Let's go, girls! Time's a wastin'!"
The sounds of footsteps gradually receeded, then, and -after a moment or two of silence, Timothy poked his head out of the laundry bin to look around. They'd gone.
His eyes settled on the small table in the center of his room where he'd set the chest. He *had* to fix this!
Getting up, he brushed the clinging socks and shirts off of his fuzzy body and walked over to his latest acquisition. Looking at it carefully, he thought it over. "One of these *must* un-do this..." he muttered to himself...