I saw a werewolf drinking a pina colada at Trader Vic's, his hair was perfect

[iustitiae]

i. closed to party; night of july 19

"For the record, this is a shit idea," Connor grumbles at his friend who is moving further and further out of his line of sight as he stands unhelpfully in the same place. They're out here in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night looking for her engagement ring, which she can't find. She's been freaking out. The truth is, he's been freaking out, too. He just doesn't think the answer here is to go looking for it in the woods. What were the chances of finding it? One in a million? "Who knows what's out here this late at night?" She quips something back at him but he doesn't catch it, the sound of fear and anxiety quickly trumping whatever response she had. Probably something about how this was the only way. His frown deepens.

Realizing he's just standing here doing nothing, he turns to go in the other direction, using the flashlight on his phone to pointlessly look at the ground for any hint of his friend's engagement ring. (Spoilers: there is none.) "Even with the moonlight, it's still super dark -- " Connor doesn't finish the sentence. His stomach twists into knots. The moonlight. It's the full moon. His mind races through facts - three days, but which one is this? Are they safe? "We should go back, anything could be out here." From increasingly far off, he hears a muffled reply telling him to calm down.

"After Waitlist -- " He's too caught up in complaining to notice the dip in the path and falls, stupidly, gracelessly onto his ass and then sliding down a small hill. Cursing under his breath, ("fuck!") he scrambles to his feet, but the sound of his friend is long gone and he realizes he's lost.


ii. @ the angelo, july 21.

Brooding. That's what's he's doing. He's gone back to the Angelo because his normal stupid, kitschy pirate bar that he's always actually hated but begrudgingly gone to now only reminds him of Oliver. Oliver, who went and fucked off back to America. And then there's this. This bite thing. There's part of him that wishes his anxiety would hurry up and get to the point where his mind actively blocks things out that he doesn't want to remember, but he doesn't seem to be on the fast track to anything except feeling terrible.

There's a solution to that, so the Angelo it is - for a drink and maybe another chance to talk to that guy (whatshisface) and casually flirt. After all, if Oliver wanted to run off, then what did he expect? That Connor would just be a good kid until he gets back, endlessly waiting to be in his good graces?

(And it's just like that that the anger sets in and figures out a way to make a home inside him, and he doesn't know that the curse is courting his temper and that the anger breeds and only gets worse.)

"Vodka," he asks of the bartender, sliding into a seat at the bar, "Actually, make that a double."


iii. the color company, july 25

Connor is really starting to wonder if his boss doesn't have it in for him. She's sent him off to make copies and he can literally feel his life draining away as he watches the machines run all the paper. He's sitting at a table playing on his phone. PocketMonsters, Move! in fact, and incredibly the London server has not yet crashed despite crowds seeming to all be capitvated by it. Is it some kind of weird Fae ploy to harvest energy from humans? To distract them from other problems? Honestly, what did it matter if it gave him something to do while copying 100 page documents several times over?

Oop, looks like there's a PocketMonster in your direction! While Connor definitely isn't noticing you at all his phone is turned towards you, trying to catch whatever small, probably cute creature has digitally shown up on your gps coordinates.


iv. your favorite coffee locale, at a time of your choosing.

The fact of the matter is, coffee was spilled. Somewhere between the barista handing it off to Connor and Connor grabbing it and coffee is everywhere, all over both of them. "What the hell?" He asks, his voice just a bit louder than normal, temper flaring. "You're going to replace that, right?"

The poor barista mutters something really quick, some kind of apology and goes to fix a new one while Connor is standing there, still visibly angry, holding the empty coffee cup incredulously. Give him a moment, and he might just realize that this isn't his normal chill attitude.

(pm me if you want a prompt of your own!)

Comments

The Angelo

[longterm]

Oh. Well, that is unfortunate. Truly. A great shame. Cesare should have killed Connor when he had the chance. At least then the poor boy wouldn't be....that. He would have died pretty.

Quite frankly, Cesare is surprised Connor was let into the bar in the first place. Perhaps it was that the scent of wolf on him was still fresh and faint. Cesare slides into the seat next to him and smiles politely. He speaks quietly. They have some history, enough for Cesare to feel a little bit of sympathy and not have the security drag Connor out by his jacket. There's no need to make a scene.

"I'm afraid you're not allowed in here."

[iustitiae]

There's a moment where he's about to ask if Cesare has him mistaken for someone else, or if this is some kind of weird retribution for him remembering his "boyfriend" last time around and skipping out, but he can tell Cesare is serious.

"What, my money isn't worth anything anymore?" It has a little more edge than he intends, but he's not trying to make a scene either. But this is also the last thing he needs right now.

[longterm]

Cesare grins. Connor couldn't have put it better. Any animosity in his voice, Cesare doesn't even remotely care about. They're in his home and he's being sassed at by a werewolf, or soon-to-be werewolf at least. What small amount of clout Connor had has a human vanished when he was bitten.

"Precisely. We only allow service dogs, I'm afraid. Did someone take your coat on your way in or are you fine?"

[iustitiae]

Connor bristles at the comment, more angry than anxious as to how Cesare knows. It doesn't matter - he doesn't deserve to be treated this way. Connor's always thought highly of himself, he has no problem defending against a comment like that on a normal day, and today....

He stands, eyes narrowing. "What the hell is your problem?"

[longterm]

Cesare would feel bad if he weren't talking to a werewolf. In truth, it's really just an unfortunate situation, but Cesare feels that Connor has made his choice and now must live with the consequences.

Cesare looks away, at the bar top for a second, as if embarrassed for Connor, before meeting his gaze with a cold stare.

"Look around you, young man. You aren't in similar company."

chomp chomp

[injectablefame]

Party's too stubborn for chains. He can't deny who and what he is to the extent of letting people chain him up like he's a ticking bomb. Instead, he's opted to get himself out into the woods, figuring if he's got enough animals to chase and he's not too close to people that everyone will be just fine. Maybe this is part of the shortcomings of his upbringing. His mother had never wanted him to become a werewolf so she'd never really taught him much about how to handle it, but it's a little late for that now.

He spends the first few hours chasing birds and squirrels, pouncing and playing games with his food almost cruelly, but everything around here is too small to be satisfying. He's chasing a particularly fat bird when he catches the scent of something much more enticing. His nose twitches in the air and then he starts padding slowly towards it, rustling leaves and branches as he moves.

[iustitiae]

See that sound? That's exactly the kind of sound that Connor was trying to warn his friend about. But no, she didn't want to listen or believe that there could be anything wrong and yet here he is, alone and separated from her and freaking out.

"It's just a wolf, just a regular, normal wolf," he tells himself, but it sounds like a lie when it falls from his lips. He fumbles with his phone, but only succeeds in shutting the light off instead of doing anything useful with it. "Shit, come on, just work." But pleading with his phone doesn't do anything, and Party is getting closer.

Time for plan b: try to get to his feet so he can run. That won't make him seem like better prey, will it?

[injectablefame]

Party hunches down in the brush, but he's bigger than a normal wolf and bits of him stick out to a human eye as he shifts his weight between his paws. Someone with animal behavior knowledge might recognize the stance of a predator looking to pounce, but then he sees the man start to stand and he stills.

He's been playing with his food all night, but the ones that don't fly are too slow to make it any real challenge at all.

[iustitiae]

Connor definitely recognizes it, animal behavior knowledge or otherwise, due to sheer fear here. His panic is probably palpable, as he makes it to his feet and bolts; fight or flight kicking in at a hard flight. For all he may be completely human, that's always been an instinct that's been hard to ignore. He heads off away from his friend, somehow aware enough not to lead a wolf right towards her, but hoping he's picking the right way out of the forest and not deeper into it.

[injectablefame]

The prey runs and Party chases, reveling in it. His paws strike the ground and propel him forward towards it with low thumps, kicking up dirt and leaves in his wake. Bit by bit, he's sure he must be gaining on it and he can practically taste the meat as he pants into the night air. He can't remember the last time he felt this alive.

iii

[dredefulchilde]

All he's finding are fucking Ratees. Everywhere. He's wasted dozens of Monstercubes on them.

Joscelin FitzThomas de Lisle, one of the oldest vampires in London, killer of untold thousands, deposed Earl of Clerkenwell, professional purveyor of holier-than-thou attitudes, is obsessed with a mobile app. He's been playing it since the UK servers finally came online a couple weeks ago. He likes to say that it's a hunting tool; people tend to make easy prey when their faces are glued to glowing screens. That is a lie. This game really is just that damned addictive.

Wait--is that?

A Lupix, just inside that print shop. Joscelin, imitating most of the other twelve year olds in London, walks towards it, flicking his screen and only vaguely troubled by the obnoxious smell of dog that seems to be suffusing the place.

[iustitiae]

To be completely honest, Connor doesn't even really know their names. He immediately gives them all nicknames and knows them more or less by shape. 'The fuzzy blue one,' 'the round yellow one,' 'the one that looks like a sickly puppy,' etc. But having just caught his latest pocketmonster, he looks up from the screen at Joscelin, who is clearly also obsessed with this. Excellent.

"You've been captured by their ugly-cuteness too, huh?"

iv

[outstandingbalance]

Natasha noticed Connor when he came in. From her vantage near the window, she kept an eye on him as he stood in line, considering whether or not he'd welcome it if she spoke to him. They didn't have a history of running into each other under the best of circumstances. By the time the spill happens, she's more or less convinced herself to stay in her chair and let him go his way.

What she didn't notice was the change in his smell, his manner. Not enough to identify it.

Not until he blows up at the barista. She doesn't know him well, but that seems at odds with the young man she's run into before. That's when it clicks. She changes her plan and stands up, moving up beside him as silently as a ghost.

"Everything okay?" she asks softly.

[iustitiae]

He's startled by her - too wrapped up in this and thankfully taken out of the moment by her speech. His eyes narrow like he's thinking about something he can't quite place and he frowns. He's so obviously in the wrong here, and she's here to witness it which almost makes it worse.

"Yeah, it's -- " but maybe, after everything the two of them had been through together, maybe lies weren't the best anymore. Natasha deserved more. "No, actually. Everything isn't okay."

[outstandingbalance]

Natasha nods slowly at that, appreciating his honesty. He doesn't owe her that answer, but he gave it anyway. "How about we get your new coffee, then maybe take a walk? Looks like maybe this time you're the one who could use some air."

Her tone is even, not exactly soothing but stable. Reasonable. "You can tell me about it, if you want."

[iustitiae]

"That sounds good," Connor nods hurriedly, grabbing the coffee that's quickly replaced and takes the out. It's good to get outside, he feels like he breathes a little easier for it.

"Er -- this is kind of a weird question, but do you know anything about werewolves?" But he doesn't stop talking. He's too nervous for that. "I guess, I mean, that's probably not a weird question. In your line of work."

[outstandingbalance]

"Not that weird, no," Natasha agrees. Not weird, but concerning. It also fits with her observations. As they walk, she watches him sideways peeking around the bridge of her nose. "You have an exciting life, don't you? First ghosts, then stalked by a vampire, and now werewolves."

Too exciting. It's hard to have a life that exciting and last long—at least not and stay human. "Anything you want to know in particular?"

iv

[emotioneater]

"Jesus, 'n I though my temper is bad." The words, said loudly enough to be heard, come from the smallish teenager standing right behind Connor, his hands stuffed into his pockets and a slouch making him look even smaller than he actually is.

He's not being antagonistic purely because there's a werewolf in the same coffee shop as him. In fact, it'll be at least another minute before Cooper realizes what the man is. No, Cooper is indeed just that much of a loudmouth.

[iustitiae]

Connor turns angrily, almost too quickly, temper still flared and reading to take on this...smallish teenager. Cooper's appearance, at least, takes a little bit of wind out of the sails of his anger.

"What does it matter to you?"

[emotioneater]

Good thing for the both of them that Connor begins to calm. Cooper wouldn't mind fighting and subsequently trying to kick his ass in a second. He's just that terrible antagonistic sort.

He speaks in a broad Irish accent, idly shifting the daylight ring on his right hand back and forth. "I'm just sayin' that if you're getting upset over something small like that, I'd hate t'see what you're like when something actually shitty happens during your day."

[iustitiae]

Truly, Cooper would kick his ass in a second. So it really is good for them.

"Yeah, me, too," it's kind of a cryptic response but he doesn't know this guy and definitely doesn't owe him anything.

kablammo (26th?)

[falsify]

Eames is here for a nice, relaxed lunchtime coffee. Maybe even a croissant. Going all out, you know? So he's really not expecting the guy ahead of him to lose his shit over some spilled coffee. Looking up and seeing who it is, well they've only met a few times but Connor never struck him as that guy either.

"Sorry about him--" Eames slides up next to Connor, all smiles and a calm demeanour, "rough day, you know?" He gives Connor a friendly pat on the shoulder and tries to nudge him away a little, "why don't you go sit down, let me handle this."

[iustitiae]

"Hey." He offers Eames a rueful smile - familiar face and all, and nods. Sitting down is probably the best option here. He goes to a table, waiting for Eames and contemplating his life and the choices that brought him here.

When Eames gets back with (or without, whatever) the coffee, he offers a quiet apology, "Sorry this isn't -- there's a lot of stress. At work."

[falsify]

"Well she gave me her number, so it's not all bad." Eames sets down their coffees and gives Connor a look over, quiet for a moment while he tries to figure out what's off about him. Other than his temper.

It's always a little harder to spot the curse than a full wolf, but when it twigs he almost laughs, "sure it's not that dog bite that's got you out of sorts?"

[iustitiae]

Connor frowns, looking away from Eames for a moment. He's only the fourth person this week to point it out. "This is honestly worse than coming out. Everyone feels like they're entitled to point it out to me like it's the first time."