Wendigo made a decision at the moment the chime of the door sounded throughout the "Wich Which". He was going to scream if it wouldn't deafen everyone in the establishment. Which it would... First it was the lightning chick with all the interestin' morals. Granted, she told him outright that she just wanted to still be able to eat at this shop, but hey he was hungry and he needed to replace all the lost mass from earlier. It had been a while since he was last able to eat anyways, but no, now it was some other guy, this one looking like he would do something too. And he was another one who liked to talk around his point, it reminded him of the bullies back in El Paso. Focused as he was on the food, Jericho got the gist of whatever the HLA guy was saying. A sigh escaped him before he began to speak, again, with food in his mouth because when a mythical Native American cannibal beast gotta eat, he gotta eat. Heh. "Oh Christ are you done now? First it was whoever the queen of chill ozone is, and now its you. I'm not hurtin' anyone. Need to eat. Back. Off." The agitation was palpable in his voice, terse and tired even as it rattled out into the air clearly despite the non-chewed food in his maw. A second set of jaws was set behind the extension of the first, fleshy and rather human; if a human's mouth was capable of constantly chewing up whatever came in contact with the teeth, without pause and capable of extending forward and pulling non chewed food closer to the throat.
Wendigo's attention was dragged away from eating as he noticed most of the other patrons in the shop leaving, stance shifting in such a way that it was obvious he was now wary of the newcomer. Apparently the guy was carrying author- Oh hey look that's a rifle. "I'm gonna go out on a wild limb on a wilder tree and assume that's loaded. Hm." The voice that rattled out of Wendigo's chest was higher in pitch now, resonating faintly with some of the windows in the shop as panic began to seep into him. He had dealt with bullets before, and most of the time he was able to just shrug 'em off, but the rifle that the man had walked in with looked like it was meant for dealing with large threats. Maybe Wendigo was wrong, but he hadn't had any training or experience with guns that didn't involve him being on the smoking hole end.
The skeletal frame of the beast turned towards Freischütz and lowered its head at him, angling the antlers downward and towards the center mass of the 'human' in a silent warning. While Wendigo didn't necessarily want to hurt anyone to get away, he would. After a moments pausing thought, ink swelled around the entirety of his frame, pulsing outwards once before subsiding as muscle mass seemed to just 'appear'. "Waste of a meal..." came the thought, muttered aloud. He shifted yet again, thinking on his 'feet' as it were, arms growing longer still as his stance became quadrupedal and shifted to a sort of gorilla-like sloping of the back. Those antlers never moved though, having gone through a split shift as well as they increased in volume and thickness. A little surprise waiting at the base of them should he really have to charge through this guy. Another moving of position, and Wendigo was out from behind the counter and out in plain view. Almost thirteen feet of now muscled fur, not counting the extra foot of onyx bone that the antlers added. Nine prongs on each branch, tips as sharp as mesquite thorns. The hind legs of Wendigo were clawes instead of hooves, though the claws on each of the ten toes was thick and blunt, making dents in the tile floor. The front claws weren't similar, being sharp and somewhat long; maybe an inch and a half. Wordlessly, a rumbling growl ripped out from the Changer's chest, loud and deep enough to feel in the bone, with an underlying chirping that seemed set on making every last bit of glass in the area quiver worryingly. Two sets of vocal cords were at work in the now thickly muscled throat.