An empty pint found the hardwood table as Kenny Parker drained his second of the evening with a smack of his thirsty lips. Food was on the way, and as far as he was concerned, it couldn't come sooner. Pub food wasn't healthy, but fuck healthy. He was a Goddamned werewolf, and he needed them calories to keep that fire burning all day long.
He'd invited the boys out. Maybe one of the Luna's Fury would join him - that'd be fun. Some hockey was on, a game about to start. The Kings versus the Red Wings? Fuck LA. As far as he was concerned, Detroit for the Cup. Those dudes knew a thing or two about Thug Life.
First up? Tater skins. Hell yeah.
The handsome Blood Talon had picked a table against the back wall with another empty next to it, and the bar wasn't terribly busy even for a hockey night. No surprise. Who came this far south of town on purpose?