Pedestrian Wolves

[Cy for Cypher]

Malcolm had been wary of going out alone recently.

He had known, somewhere deep down in the part of him that had started to take unconscious notice of his surroundings, that something was wrong in the city. Powers were shifting. It was a strange sensation, one that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand out when he stepped outside of his run-down apartment at night. Every step was unusually timid, and he found himself peeking around corners.

Then he’d frowned to himself and furrowed his brow, because that was just stupid. There was nothing wrong with this city--well, nothing wrong with it now that hadn’t been wrong before. There was a lot wrong with this city from a normal person’s standpoint. As soon as the thought had crossed his mind, another notion came nipping at its heels like an insistent terrier, and Malcolm grinned wolfishly to himself. Define normal.

If anyone knew anything about normal, though, it was Malcolm Grimes. Sure, once a month he turned into a slavering, bloodthristy hell hound, but he didn’t let it interfere with the rest of his life, for the most part. He didn’t look like a werewolf. He was plain, dull, with a sense of brownness that only added to his mediocre appearance. Only a creature with a discerning eye or an acute sense of smell could really tell. The only thing vaguely supernatural about him resided in his dull brown eyes which were traced with the slight hints of gold.

And, well, of course, he sort of always smelled like wet dog, but that could’ve been for any reason.

It had been a long time since he’d gone out on the town. Work and that peculiar skittishness had kept him indoors for quite a while. It was time to see what all the fuss was about. He was wearing his usual assortment of rather drab clothing, bespectacled and penny-loafered as he waited for the traffic signal to tell him he could cross the street.

[pinkroses]

Kitch was feeling in a bit of a daze when he left his apartment that evening. He’d taken his painkillers, and then a couple of extra ones and had been about to go to bed when he started to feel claustrophobic. That tiny, dark apartment was a hole, the barest essentials and nothing more, the cheapest he could get, which despite being good for his economic problems wasn’t too good when it started to make him feel trapped. Luckily it wasn’t a hole he was trapped in, so Kitch had left it at a fast pace.

The pain in his leg had subsided now and he was walking almost normally and the wound in his side, thanks to Christian’s expert attentions, was almost completely healed, so despite the slight fuzziness in his head he was feeling much better now that he was walking outside. Kitch was wearing a pair of scruffy old jeans, which were ripped with age, not for style, and a dark green T-shirt. He  hadn’t bothered to grab a jacket on his way out but right now the cool of the dark night wasn’t bothering him much.

If there hadn’t been someone else stopped waiting for the lights to change the red head probably would have just wandered straight out into the road, but as it was he paused when he noticed someone else doing the same and raised his green eyes to stare at the red man shining at him from across the street. As a car whizzed past Kitch tore his eyes away from the bright light to glance at the man beside him, his nostrils flaring instinctively as he caught a familiar scent.  

“Evenin’,” he said in a rough voice, giving a small nod to the kindred spirit beside him. He still found it strange that there were so many supernatural creatures around the city, but that had been his original reason for coming here. Kitch bad been fed up of being alone and in this city there was no lack of creatures to spend time with.

"Where you off?" he added with interest, knowing that if this werewolf didn\'t want to socialise he probably wouldn\'t hide his feelings for long.

[Cy for Cypher]

Malcolm went immediately and suddenly rigid when the scent of another werewolf filled his nostrils.

He hadn’t actively avoided others of his ind, but he hadn’t gone looking for them, either. Somewhere deep down, Malcolm had known that he would eventually run into another lycanthrope, but he hadn’t mentally prepared himself for it. He glanced sideways, observing the other through the thin frames of his spectacles, uncertain what to think of the compact, wiry fellow.

Malcolm was no impressive height himself, but he at least had a few inches on this guy. He would have to speak sooner of later, he realized, and just stop staring awkwardly at this man. He swallowed thickly and waited until his foot was on the sidewalk again before he ventured to speak.

“Good evening,” he offered. “Nowhere in particular. I just... wanted to get out.” his face betrayed no emotion, but his body language displayed evident nervousness--and even more than that... curiosity. This was a new and unusual experience. Despite himself, he wanted to see how this all would play out.

[pinkroses]

Kitch easily noticed the other werewolf stiffening and when there was only silence he turned his green eyes to the street as they crossed, guessing that the other man didn’t want to talk. When he did speak Kitch looked at him once more, giving a small smile, happy that he wasn’t just being ignored. That would really have sucked.

“Same here,” he said with a nod. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one in the city who just wanted to get out and about. He wasn’t the only one living in a shit hole. Hopefully that would change sometime soon. Kitch took a few more steps before pausing and turning towards Malcolm.

“Look, this probably sounds weird, but do you want to get a drink or something? I have nothing t’do and it’d be nice t’do nothing with someone,” he said with a shrug as he gestured with his hands, hoping that what he had just said made sense. The other lycan didn’t look completely shut off and Kitch was always interested to learn about his kind, especially since most other species looked down on them. If he was really desperate for company he could always go back to Christian, he knew that, but with the blonde it always felt like he was a charity case. Kitch was open to new people though, he wouldn’t turn down an opportunity for company when it was placed right in front of him.

[Cy for Cypher]

Malcolm didn’t return the smile, but rather just glanced back to him with his customary blank expression. This could be taken any which way Kitch wanted to, but Malcolm didn’t mean anything by it. This was just his default expression.

He tilted his head very slightly, casting his dull eyes down slightly and then shrugging in return. “That sounds fine to me.” he then turned and peered at this other, overcoming his initial timidness upon meeting another werewolf long enough to scrutinize him properly. As far as Malcolm could tell, he didn’t look like the sort of person who’d lure one into a false sense of security and then bash them on the back of the head with a beer bottle, making off with their wallet, cackling in the night.

Not that Malcolm had much to steal... he almost smiled at this thought, but it never made its way to his face.

It couldn’t hurt to try something new. And... and it would be nice to talk to someone else who had his... special view of the world. If Malcolm could tell Kitch was a werewolf, surely Kitch could tell he was one.

“I’ve heard weirder,” he went on to say, tucking his hands into his pockets as he nodded for Kitch to lead the way. He didn’t seem overly eager or reluctant to be on his way. If anything, Malcolm conveyed a sense of waiting.

[pinkroses]

"Good," Kitch said cheerfully, bouncing a little on his toes with enthusiasm. He got depressed when he was alone with nothing to do, so Malcom agreeing to have a drink with him had definitely perked up his night. Even if they turned out to rub each other the wrong way, it didn\'t matter, they would part ways at the end of the evening and Kitch would just be glad that the night hadn\'t been completely wasted and lonely.

The other werewolf definitely didn\'t give off the same level of enthusiasm or anywhere near it, but that didn\'t matter to the redhead. The fact that he had agreed at all to walk near him was enough to be honest.

Kitch set off and a slow walk, glancing back at Malcolm to check he was still there, then glancing around at their surroundings, trying to decide where to go. First off, diner or bar? He hadn\'t specified alcohol or coffee, but with another quick glance at the brunette he made the choice of coffee. It looked more like his thing than a night in a noisy bar or club. There was a diner Kitch knew just a couple of blocks up so Kitch headed in that direction, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets for a little extra warmth.

"I\'m Kitch," he said, breaking the silence that previously had been broken only by their steady footfalls.

[Cy for Cypher]

Malcolm followed silently behind Kitch, slowly looking about the city as he did with an air of benign thoughtlessness on his face. His mind, however, was racing.

Kitch had to know what Malcolm was. If he could smell it on Kitch, then the other could smell it on him, right? They’d met and seemed to be socially interacting just like a pair of humans would. They hadn’t instinctively started tearing one another’s faces off. That was a promising sign. Malcolm had watched countless werewolves in his youth, studying them and their behavior, but usually only when they were transformed. It was a wholly different experience to be so... personally involved in such a study, if one could call it that.

They had barely started talking, but already Malcolm was growing nervous and increasingly curious over the situation. Not so much as a secret nod had passed between them to acknowledge what they were. Was it just taken for granted? Would it be socially uncouth to bring it up? Was he supposed to pass some unwritten rite of passage?

Malcolm was uncertain, and so wrapped up in his own thoughts he almost missed Kitch’s introduction.

“Malcolm,” he replied simply.

He was quiet for the next few moments. He just trailed after Kitch like some quiet, tired old hound after a bouncing puppy.

“What do you do for a living?” he asked, falling back on simple politeness. He could second-guess he and Kitch’s interaction all he liked, but in the end, it was all just guesswork. The only way to find out how the evening would go was to jump right in.