The drive back to the costume shop is extremely awkward. Sitting on your tail is uncomfortable, your feet don't contact the pedals in quite the way you're used to, and you can feel the stares of the other drivers on the back of your black-furred neck. Jack is silent the whole way.
When you get there, the shop is closed. Very closed. In fact, it looks like it hasn't been open for years. The "Second Skin" sign is missing, the windows are boarded up, the parking lot is empty. What the heck? You were here just yesterday!
"This is the right place, isn't it?" you ask Jack. He nods, his mouth slightly agape. It looks like the same building anyway, other than the fact that it's empty and unused.
With nothing better to do, you get out of the car and approach the building. It looks not only empty, but dilapidated. There's a sign on the door that says "This building for rent:" and gives a phone number. Even the sign is old and dirty.
You try the handle, but the door, unsurprisingly, is locked. There's no response when you rap your claws on it.
"Maybe we can get in around back?" suggests Jack. "I think that's where the realistic costumes were."
That's what you remember, too, but the wooden boards across the windows in front seem kind of loose. You think you might be able to pry them off. Then you'd be able to get a look inside, and even break in through the glass if you had to. There's one good thing about the costumes - the fur will probably help protect you from the broken glass.
On the other paw, what you really want is to talk to the owner, and there's no reason to think he's in there. Maybe you'll find a way to reach him if you call the number on the sign? You've got a phone with you. You left it charging in your car, since you haven't got pockets for it.