It doesn't really take you long to decide; you're still intent on getting home and changing back, and big cities mean big libraries, and in this magical fantasy land it's a good bet that big libraries mean tomes of arcane secrets and maps to inter-world portals. "We'll go to the city," you say, before Jeremy can get a word in.
"Great!" Josh grins. "But like I said, you'll need some money first. The tavern keeper in my village has been complaining about his workload, so I'm sure he'd be glad to hire you on as waitresses, and you're welcome to stay at my house until we're ready to leave."
The three of you make your way towards Josh's village. Jeremy smirks at you. "Waitress?" she says. "In a tavern? Are you sure you're not going girly here? Or do you just not know what you're getting into?"
You scowl at her. "This is my best chance for changing back," you say. "There's bound to be libraries of magical secrets in that city, and I'll do whatever I have to get there. 'Girly' doesn't enter into the equation."
She shrugs. "Whatever you say," she laughs, with another infuriating smirk. "But men plus alchohol plus beautiful girls equals a thoroughly uncomfortable situation for boys-turned-girls, even if they do have claws and fangs."
You sigh and walk on. She's probably right, but it's not like you're going to get any closer to changing back or getting home if you're sitting around the campfire with a tribe of cat-warriors or...doing whatever it is elves do. This is the only good choice, and you're pretty much stuck with it.
It's late afternoon by the time you get back to Josh's village. He shows you where his house is, then leads you over to the tavern. "When your shift is done," he says, "just come on over to my house. I'll have a bedroom set up for you two when you get back, and you can meet my parents then. I'll explain things to them beforehand."
Thanking him, you go inside. The tavern looks a lot better than you expected; it's a lot more like a rural English pub than the Mos Eisley cantina you've been led to expect from potboiler fantasy stories. That's a relief, as is the fact that none of the patrons seems particularily lecherous. Maybe this won't be so bad after all.