New roads to somewhere

[Chris Laurent]

There's no way that Chris can smell like anything but a Wolf and he knows it. Months living in that car trying to escape whatever the hell had just chased him and his packmates out of home had made everything smell like Wolf. It was hell trying to find places to rest near large towns. Everyone would come out and say hi, then get the fuck off my lawn. Not that Chris can totally blame them...only mostly.

So the Irraka sticks to the major roads as he walks through downtown Sacramento. Daylight should mean that no one tries anything stupid. Well..probably. Months of traveling have shown Chris a whole new level of dumb. Not that he hadn't actively caused some of it at times. Wary enough both hands stay in his coat pockets. An older coat that clearly has seen better days and looks like it may have been cut a few times in a few places and poorly repaired. Wrapped around each hand are the only memento Chris has of home, a fetish made by his only friend in his old pack. Now dead, somewhere, because of the bastard.

[Viola Jones]

Viola wasn't stalking the streets dead eyes keen to see a black Torino. She wasn't.

Hands shove into her jacket pockets. Who was she fucking kidding. The tattooed Italian had captured her attention like no one had before (or after) Sarah.

But. Fuck. Sarah. It hasn't even been a year since....

Was that wolf?

Steps halt, head cranes. She can't tell who...fucking man-nose.

Stench is comin' from thata way...

The slight quirk of her lips falls away. Stark grim lines take its place.

Dead eyes grow sharp as an unfamiliar wolf comes into view.

"...the fuck are you?"

[Tristan Hardt]

A pile of paperwork about 'this' high is waiting back at the station. He'd get to it. Or just make some young try-hard pick it up. Tristan shakes his head. Thing about the new guys is they haven't realized their role in life yet. They can bust their asses all they want, but it's not winning brownie points. It's expected. They need to put in their years like the rest before they can think about taking things easy. Or think about retirement.

Tristan's not all that old, of course. And a good healthy dose of wolf would keep his body strong for a long time to come. What he hates is going back to the grind every day. On top of his... 'other' responsibilities. He works too damn hard.

It's nice enough for a walk to clear his head, and he's been doing just that. Sorting out his thoughts. He shrugs off the hood to his brown jacket and stretches his neck - rewarding him with a satisfying series of pops. With the blinders off, though, he catches a glimpse of his favorite uppity young pup. Hell. So much for a nice walk.

He starts across the street to catch up with her. Find out what the hell she's looking for. Maybe she found some lead into that cat-creature business they'd stumbled into. Distance draws his attention first to the girl stopping in her tracks. Then the smell hits. Faint, from here, but undeniable. Instinct sends his body rigid, and he stops where he is. Too far to talk to Viola's 'quarry' but close enough to read the scene.

[Chris Laurent]

Hands slide from pockets on smooth reflex as the dead eyed women stares at Chris. She's either a Wolf or someone very confused about how the world works. Knuckles tighten behind the hand wraps, getting ready for her to do something stupid. Then the question and Chris lets out a slow sigh mixed with a laugh.

This was so much easier with three people. A weary smile grips Chris's unshaven face. "I'm new in town, my old ..boss told me to check in with some people she knew of around town." A wrapped hand waves in an almost sarcastically non-nonchalant way to area around them. "Getting to know the lay of the land along the way." Blue eyes shift to the guy standing further away, something about him. Then they fall back onto the bored and agitated women.

"That a problem?"

[Hector]

Always be aware of what is going on under your nose. Its an old adage and one that is so very easily broken.

From under Chris's nose, off to one side, comes a voice.

"Spare a dollar?"

Pressed against a wall is a squatting pile. A squatting pile in a mangy coat with thick hair and whiskers almost long enough to be called a beard. Wide eyes. Wild eyes. A mouth filled with apparently broken teeth (we say apparently - they look they could leave behind a nasty wound regardless). A hand in ragged mittens feebly holds up a cheap bowl. With the other he gestures to a piece of card board with a sob story scrawled on it.

Hector smells ripe.

But for Chris Its a "good" ripe: under the smell of clothes and dirt there is the heady aroma of wolf and spirit and fur.

Hector can scent Chris too. His mouth breaks into a goofy grin.

"I think you've found People."

All pretence and obfuscation is lost.

[Viola Jones]

This unknown's - possible threat's - hands slide out from pockets and Viola's follow.

You never fuckin' know.

Hyper focused, head cocks as more steps close in. A familiar gait, not Hector. Fucker's all awkward limbs, and gangely steps. Two legs or four. Naw, these are practiced. Measured. Purposeful.

Her favourite fuckin' pig.

Her eyes don't lighten and her lips don't quirk twisting into a smirk. No. They're as flat and as grim as ever.

Then, just as she's about to speak Hector pops out of fuckin' nowhere. Like a fucking ninja. Completely ruining the suave and (more then) slightly dangerous line she was just gonna give.

(Oh come on. Viola's about as suave as a boulder. To face.)

"....well you found us." tongue picks at a tooth. "Now which one of us did your boss want you to meet?"

(See)

[Tristan Hardt]

Viola doesn’t look like she’s ready to scrap with this guy. Then again, it’s hard to tell. She’s got one speed: annoyed. Eventually she takes notice of Tristan, too. Conversation then. Tristan picks up his feet and falls into position adjacent to Viola. Not precisely flanking the newcomer. But pretty damn close. Then a pile of rags starts talking and almost gives the Elodoth a start. Hector.

For a moment Tristan’s quiet. His eyes don’t leave the newcomer. Viola’s probably already rolled out the welcome mat. And, knowing how charming she is, he’s a little impressed that the new guy is keeping his cool. Of course... now he’s outnumbered. Anything less would just be stupid.

[Chris Laurent]

A half step as the stern man steps up next to the angry women, then another as an overlooked man speaks. Chris starts to raise a hand to let the man know that right now isn’t a great time for that when the smell hits and the not-man breaks the masquerade. Instead both hands slowly shift, palms out before sliding back into his pockets. Well shit.

“Ha I think I did…” A slow exhale follows the words out before Chris takes in another breath.

“My apologies.” Then he shakes his head to the angry women. Three on one, not good odds. “I think she said Firebringer? It sounded like she had heard stories amongst the older people in town.”

The Irraka shifts his weight and looks to either side. No more so far. Can’t look behind without leaving an opening. “I’m not here to cause problems, only to find our people and see who’s looking for new blood.” Eyes flit between the three Wolves around him. Maybe this town isn’t such a great place to be.

[Tristan Hardt]

This time the Elodoth finds reason to speak. "Firebringer, huh? Doesn't ring any bells." His answer in gruff. Matter-of-fact. The grizzled cop hasn't been in the area long enough to call bullshit on it, but he takes a mental note.

The next bit prompts a frown. What passes for their sorry pack had already lost two in the span of months. Grim necessity clicks into place as Tristan folds his arms. "New blood." he parrots again. "We've all hunted. Cut our teeth keeping the place clean." He eyes Hector and Viola in turn in acknowledgement. Then the brown eyes rest back on this new wolf. "Numbers only matter so much." The look on his face is expectant. He raises a brow.

Sorry for jumping ahead. I posted mobile this morning and didn't have the color text option to add some words.

[Hector]

Hector tilted his head.

"This was once the territory of Firebringer. He's gone now, though. Passed on who knows where..."

The homeless man inhaled deeply, closed his eyes to think for a moment.

"Now its just us. Nameless, for we need no name. Not here. Not when we are the only thing keeping the wilds in place. You run in this city, you run with us."

Hector was still grinning, evidently happy to see another Wolf in town. The smile was still fixed to his face when he asked, more seriously:

"You branded?"