The Curious Nature of Happenstance

[Viola Jones]

This wasn't the plan.

Voila liked plans. Things that went contrary to what she intended were treated with different levels of different emotions, usually hostility, depending on just what was fucking up her plans.

The Plan was to use some cash she'd gotten, walk to a place she found and order a fucking pita. Because she wanted one. Shut up.

The disruption?

Catching Hector 's scent on the way there.

The scent was fresh, full and meant that he was close.

Fuck, a stray thought as the Rahu leaded against a brick wall. Scowling to herself and everyone passing by, her plans were put on hold, because among the four of them, Hector had the best, and most devastating 'puppy dog eyes'.

Huffing, and grumbling. Her arms cross as she really settles into the lean.

Waiting for the Cahalith to find her.

Moon Phase: Waxing Crescent

[Hector]

Hector has puppy dog eyes.

He has crazy-mad eyes. And unfocused dreamy-mad eyes, too. Normally it is through them that the Cahalith views the world. But not today.

Today he is practicing the puppy dog eyes. See - the lanky man curled up on the street corner. He has a cap, upturned, by his feet. A single piece of cardboard acts as a placard upon which he has written a plea for help and a painfully bad piece of poetry. He smells of earth, plastic, concrete, and exhaust. Beneath the dirt the veneer of man falls away and only his wolf scent remains.

By some quirk of luck, Viola has placed herself just across the street. Hector moves to meet her once the last of the herd pass by. In a few short movements, the broken and beaten man gains pride and self awareness - a transformation that would have been startling had not Viola seen - and scented him - do such things before.

"Viola."

Hector doesn't know what to do with his little placard.

[Viola Jones]

Voila watches the transformation and just like the first time she seen it happen, she - silently - admires the Cunning of it.

"Hector."

The near dead orbs masquerading as eyes note the placard, causing her to wonder why the hell it wasn't in one folded in a pocket if he wanted it keep it, and trashed if he didn't.

Pushing herself off the wall, arms fall to her sides.

"Got some cash." the Rahu flatly informs the other, "Wanna get some grub?"

Viola liked her plans, but adapting them?

A brand the two of them share.

[Hector]

"Heh, why not? Got nothing else to be doing." He responded cheerily, perhaps a little to eagerly. The possibility of proper food - not the remains pulled from a stinking bin or the processed product masquerading as food from a cheap fast food joint, had set his mouth watering.

"What brings you out onto the streets?" He asked at last to fill the void left by their silence. "Apart from the obvious."

He was still holding the useless placard. With a cleverly timed, sneaky movement, he deposited the piece of card board into an alley as they passed.

"I'd have thought you would have staked a claim to some green space by now, if only to give you a chill out space away from... You know..." The hustle and bustle; the herd; the wolves.

[Viola Jones]

For a moment she just watches Hector. Brow raising at how quick he agreed. It couldn't be her delightful company that garnered that response.

"Cool." leaves her mouth. It sounds wrong coming from her.

"The obvious." dry and deadpan. Then something that could be a laugh, but was more like a snort. "I wanted a pita. So. I'm getting one." bluntly put as they pass the alley, "Uh-If you're not feeling a pita. We can hit up another place. Too. I'm still getting my pita."

Another sound that could almost be a laugh. If it didn't come from Viola.

"Yeah. No. Or. Not yet." was her ever helpful answer. "Knew someone who's only stitch of sacred was a tiny ass garden. Didn't care about anything else. Just those plants he'd did up himself. Another. Well. Was an apartment block. So. Yeah." her dead eyes move minutely spying Hector out of the corner of them, "My stitch of sacred might not be green. So. We'll see."

[Hector]

"Now that is very interesting coming from you," Hector replied. The levity left his face, replaced by a look that was both searching and serious.

"Frankly I'll just be happy for food. Buy what you need. I'll join you."

The Cahalith remained silent for a while, giving Viola chance to talk further. When the Rahu was less than forthcoming, he decided to fill the void.

"I have staked a claim. Nothing sacred though. Just a place. Central, right under the pumping arteries of the city. But its not sacred. Not like that. Thats about all I've done so far. Still learning the lay of the land so... so my animal instincts are in check for now. Won't last forever."

He grunted.

"But I'll cross that river when I come to it."

[Viola Jones]

"I know." said plainly, without inflection.

"But I'm gonna do it again." Then time she turns to face Hector. "Cool."

"I've not done that." an admittance. Feeling strangely at ease with the Farsil Luhal, which was weird. But. Probably good...? "So. Yeah." she shoves her hands into pockets. "Not. Feelin'. Great." pauses and enunciation.

A beat, but maybe more.

"...been-ah waitin' for us." which was more telling then anything she'd told any of the wolves so far.

[Hector]

"It will come together soon enough, I'm sure." Hector replied.

"The city is big. We are few. Hmmm. Yeah very few. And... Still no sign of any others. Sometimes I get the feeling that there is a great story waiting here. Or a great warning. Not that it doesn't have an upside. We don't have to worry about territory so much: its not what we can hold but where. Room to breathe."

He took a deep breath. Let it out with an uncanny grin.

"So unusual. A real test, that. Right there."

[Viola Jones]

"I'd err on the side of shit is fucked up. Was. Probably. Instead of is. But it might still be is for all we know." a moment of silence, a pause between words, "Yeah. It is nice. We can find our own place and not worry about parley and all that other shit." which was good. The last time she had to parley with another Pack about territory, she came home to find everyone she loved dead.

"Think, with whatever brought us all here. We need that breathing room." she sure as fuck did.

"Yep." a dry sound, "That's me. Stubborn SOB."

[Hector]

"Nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong with enjoying the space."

Hector had let the conversation lag for too long, he realised.

See, that was the thing. The People didn't need chatter like the human herd did. If you wanted to talk, you talked. If you wanted to be quiet, no one questioned it. Humans seemed to always want to talk unless they didn't. Silence threatened them. Speech scared the shit out of them. Always context - and man, was that tiring or what?

"So. What do you do away from the hunt?" Hector asked suddenly. "I listen to what the street sings to me. Street's always singing in tones of flesh and bone, machine and petrol fume. Sometimes it rains."

He stopped, stared at a woman in a summer dress who was watching Viola and himself like there was something amiss. All of a sudden she found something else to do.