Disclaimer: Neither show is my toy box. I own nothing and am merely playing.
Oz tilted his head to the side and stared at the gun Owen had trained on him before he pointed out, “I saved your life.”
“I could’ve handled the Weevil.”
Oz frowned, “I’d liked to leave now.”
“Sorry, can’t let shape shifting aliens just walk around naked, can I?” Owen told him, voice indicating that he wasn’t sorry in the least.
“That’s kinda cool.”
“Look, acting ignorant isn’t going to help. You’re an alien. I’m an alien catcher, so you’re coming with me.”
“But I’m not an alien.”
“Yes, you are!”
Oz blinked, “I’m a werewolf.”
Owen scowled and reasoned, “That means you’re an alien.”
“No, that means I’m a werewolf,” Oz frowned.
“Really, and just where do you think werewolves came from?”
“Where do you think they came from?” Oz asked in a prying voice as he eyed the gun Owen had trained at him.
“Alright, that’s enough. Now you’re going to be a good little…”
“Your bullets aren’t silver,” Oz pointed out.
“They’ll still hurt like hell,” Owen reassured.
Oz sighed, apologized and then quickly ran through the easiest teleporting spell he knew. One word and he was gone. Owen swore.