Ok, first off, this is so blatantly non-canon. It /might/ get official at a later date, but for now assume otherwise.
TF drink courtesy of William's Soda Shoppe (i.e.: Kenku)
========
Rem looked concerned when Flynn walked into Torchlight.
"Coby isn't with you."
"I know, he's asleep at home."
"But what about--"
Flynn waved the unfinished question aside. "Don't worry. I have--" he took out a pocket watch, "--fourty minutes before stretch sickness kicks in. I just want to get a drink. Stiff and cold, please."
Rem heeded the familiar order and a root beer was quickly produced. "What's got you agitated this time?"
Flynn downed the drink in seconds. "Job from the engineer's guild. I have a bugged street cleaner in my living room."
That raised an eyebrow. "A street cleaner? Those things are twice as tall as a person and nearly as wide. How could one fit--"
"It's the smaller version. For sidestreets and buildings. Only comes up to your waist."
"Ah. So what's the problem?"
Flynn took out his multitool and set it on the counter. "This has ever tool I need, normally. Screwdriver, wrench, pliers, even a welder and hammer." he explained, extending each tool as it was mentioned. "But these are too small to work on the cleaner. Screws are too big, pipes are too wide, that sort of thing."
"You must have other tools. The astrolab, for instance, was massive."
There was a flinch at the memory. "Well, yes, I do, but I don't like using them. Ever time I get into the flow and start finding my wind, I have to turn away and get a new tool. Completely breaks my concentration. If I'm building something, then it's no big deal, but if I'm doing a repair or maitenance, I need that momentum to see how everything fits together."
He paused. "Is this making sense? I'm not sure I'm explaining it right."
Rem gave a reassuring smile. "Yes, I follow. Can't get into your groove if you have to keep turning away. I suppose just keeping the toolbox next to you is out of the question?"
"Not unless I want to trip over it."
An understanding nod, then a pause.
"I may have something to help."
"Eh?"
Rem disappeared beneath the counter for a few moments. He reemerged holding a light red bottle. "New soda," he explained, handing the bottle over, "some guy's opening a store and was in yesterday handing out samples to me and the restaurant owners."
Flynn looked at the label. "Bamboo Berry, huh? Wait, why would he hand out samples to his would-be competitors?"
"No clue. Something about 'wanting to ensure cross-planar consistency' before opening. He was Unified, so my guess is it has to do with a magi thing."
"He was a mage?"
"Not sure, actually. Was dressed closer to an air pirate now that I think about it."
"Weird."
Rem shrugged nonchalantly. "Eh, I've had weirder in here. Anyway, drink's on the house. Might help keep you relaxed while you work."
Flynn's watch chimed. He thanked Rem and grabbed the bottle before leaving. COby was, unsurprisingly, still asleep when he returned home. Flynn set the Bamboo Berry down next to his toolbox and turned his attention back to the steam cleaner occupying the space normally reserved for his coffee table. The smooth, shined metalic surface of the rhomboid machine was broken by sections where the panneling had been removed to expose its tangled inner workings.
Progress was slow. As he described to Rem at the bar, each time Flynn found himself getting momentum he'd need to unscrew a gear, move a strut, or something else that required a new tool. He tried keeping the toolbox next to him, but could never manage to grab the right tool blind. Magic wasn't helpful either. An early attempt to call over a wrench had almost brained him. After an hour of rummaging, rotating, and turning, all Flynn had figured out was that the cleaner was definitely bugged.
More to distract himself from his annoyance than out of thirst, Flynn popped open the Bamboo Berry and took a swig. The flavor was strong but unidentifiably foreign. He couldn't recognize any of the berries--if that's really what they were==that were flavouring the drink. It had a strange aftertaste too that reminded him of fresh rain. The fizz was nice though; a light bubbling that tickled his insides. Flynn would have to tell Rem to thank the strange pirate-mage next time he saw him.
Before Flynn knew it, the bottle was drained and his irritation had been slaked. The break had also given him an idea. He crouched down and moved some wires to expose the steam funnels which functioned as the cleaners 'arteries'. A screwdriver presented itself and he unscrewed the casings. As he prodded, Flynn followed the connections of each pipe, gear, and wire. The mental schematic began tracing itself, forming connections until...
"Aha!"
One of the steam funnels had been routed into itself instead of the adjoining socket. A junior mistake that had caused the power to back up. No wonder this thing was busted! He'd have to check who last did maitenance on this model--someone was going to get an earful.
A wrench was offered, which Flynn used to extract the misrouted outlet tube. The procedure took longer than normal as it was difficult to twist the wrench with one hand while keeping the input pump squeezed in his other. Flynn relaxed his grip when the tube was removed and pointed out towards the kitchen. With a loud *FWSSSH* a satisfying rush of pent-up steam erupted into the air. The noise was so intensely high pitched that it covered up the *FOOF* made as fur poofed out from Flynn's body. The rusty red colouring covered him entierly, save where it deepened to brown along his arms and legs.
Following the schematic in his mind's eye, Flynn began hooking the outlet tube into its proper position. He held his tongue at the corner of his mouth as he worked, even as it reshaped into a short, whiskered, white-marked muzzle. He chittered happily when the routing was finished.
Flynn smiled as he replaced the steam funnel casing and ran an operations test. He was about to call the job completed when something made him pause. Peaked ears swiveled from atop Flynn's head until they found the source of his hesitation. There was something clicking. It was a very slight sound but distinct once Flynn had identified it. He followed the noise to the front of the cleaner. A screwdriver was offered again and he removed the front panneling.
There was, of all things, a hairpin lodged between two of the gears. Flynn's best guess was that it had falled from one of the workers into the machine. The hairpin was rather thin, and only the tip was in the way, which explained why the gears were merely stuttering intead of stalling outright. It also looked to be unhelpfully secure in its position.
With his focus stumbled by the unexpected development, Flynn turned around when the pliers were offered. "Thanks, Coby. How long have you been awa--"
He trailed off. Coby was still asleep in his basket. Instead, Flynn was face-to-fur with his own long, striped, and incredibly bushy tail wrapped around a pair of pliers.
Flynn's first thought was "AAAAH!"
Then it was, "What the?"
Which was quickly followed by, "Oooh, fluffy."
Discovery and exploration of the rest of his changes quickly followed.
====
Coby stirred an hour later. He shifted, enjoying the softness of his pillow. Something was off, though. He felt... lighter? No... suspended?
The fox's sleepy eyes flickered open to see a white muzzle mere milimetres from his own.
"GAH!"
"AHAH! Finally!" The muzzled creature exclaimed in a chittering laugh. "See how you like it for once!"
Coby looked around and got his bearings. He was wrapped--held, really--in this Flynn's large, long, striped tail. It was actually quite snug.
"Umm, you didn't have another familiar stored away somewhere, did you?"
Flynn blinked. "What? No, of course not." He pulled Coby in close and rubbed his head. "You're the only one for me. Nah, this is just some magic soda."
"Soda?"
A shrug. "Well that's the best reason I've come up with. It's the only thing I've done differently today. Either that or there was something really bugged with that steam cleaner."
Coby paused. "It's not, uh, permanent, is it?"
"Probably not. Potions never last more than a few hours to a day in my experience. Besides, Rem gave it to me. He'd never just hand off something like this without warning someone if it was permanent."
The fox sighed with relief. Flynn eyed him suspiciously.
"You weren't perhaps... worried, were you? Didn't want any competition in the fuzziness department?"
"What?" Coby yipped, "No! That's not even--you're not even in the same class as me!"
Flynn grinned and his ears flexed mischeviously. "Oh? I think I'm pretty fuzzy right now. I might be able to give you a run for your money. My tail's definitely fluffier than yours."
"That's just because you're bigger! If you were my size--"
"Pretty handy too," he continued, smirking as he ignored Coby's protests, "I'm not gonna lie: it's pretty awesome to have something so versatile. It can even hold my own weight--I tested. What can your tail do?"
"My tail can do plenty!"
"Oh, like what?"
"Err..."
Another chittering laugh.
"I am so going to eat your shoe!"
"No need for 'em!" Flynn explained with a wiggle of his paws. Coby struggled for a retort but could only yip in desperation. Despite how fun it was to irk him, Flynncould tell this was starting to get to him.
"I'm just kidding, by the way." He said consolingly as he lowered the fox to the ground and released him. "You'll always be be my number one fuzzball, Coby."
Coby looked up into his eyes. "Really?"
Flynn gave a reassuring smile. "Of course, bud. Always."
"Ok!" Coby yipped happily. Without warning he leapt back onto Flynn's tail. Within moments he had wrapped it around himself and curled up.
"Wha?"
"As Chief Fuzzy, I claim my right of using you as my pillow."
"You are making that up."
"Hush, it's ok. You're new to this."
"Get out of my tail, Coby."
"But it's so snuuuuugy!"
"Out!"
"It's my turn though!"
"You can't--there's no turns with someone else's tail!"
"How do you know? This is your first one."
