frisson.

He shrugs slightly, lips pulling back into a small smile. “Things really have changed..” He muses, nodding his head in agreement to the older’s comment. “I don’t even think I was that bad when I was their age.” But then again, Hoseok was too busy having his nose stuck in a book. Maintaining his grades was far more important than any mischief making, even so he was far too soft to even participate in the most harmless of pranks. 

“Man, I must sound ancient, complaining about the youth.” His smile grows as he lets out a soft chuckle, hand raisin to the nape of his neck and reassuringly rubbing it. Hopefully he’d be  able to have somewhat of an influence on the younger generations. Well, that was his plan anyways. Smile widening, Hoseok’s eyes light up. “I’m glad you like it!” He chirps, eyes glancing up at the older. “That’s so true, we’ve never really had a chance to sit down and talk like this.” 

Thrusting a hand out towards the male, Hoseok breaks out into his signature grins. “It’s very nice to make your acquaintance, Himchan-hyung.” Wow, it felt pretty nice to finally get to know the older like this. It was bound to happen regardless, but the fox was thrilled to bits nonetheless. “Jung Hoseok, but you can call me Hoseok or Hobi. Either is fine.” He had to leave his nickname as an option, almost everyone he was remotely friends with referred to him as such anyways. 

His ears redden slightly, Hoseok laughing softly at the older’s teasing. “Really, it’s fine.”

“If you’re saying that you’re ancient, what does that make me, then?” Himchan assumes that he is slightly older than the barista, anyways. He could be wrong, of course, but he somehow doubted that. Another bite is taken from the cookie, and he smiles. “You’re always busy, I would feel bad to distract you from your work -- like I am doing right now..” His voice trails off, sheepishly glancing to the man. It seemed he just simply could not help himself at times. “I hope I am not keeping you from doing what you need.”

The outburst from the younger male was surprising to say the least. Himchan just had not expected it. Looking to Hoseok’s hand for a moment, he ponders before taking it into a firm shake. His expression nearly mirrors the barista’s. It was refreshing to meet someone so bright and excitable. “It is a pleasure to meet you too, Hoseok.” For now, he decides that “Hoseok” would do. Only time would tell if he would venture so much as to call him “Hobi.”

His response made him laugh, reminiscent of the good old days when their bromance was in full bloom. He remembers how easy it was when they first became friends, and although others would tend to misunderstand their genuine bond, it didn’t really matter to the both of them. They both knew what they were about. Cris and Himchan understood each other even more than any of the girls in the werelions youth. It was an effortless bond where expressing themselves was never a problem. “If you’re meat spoils, I’ll get you some more bro.”

But it has been years since then. Cris wonders if its changed now.

“As a friend of mine, by the way, you’re always welcome to some free food there. I feel like I’m there 90% of the day, so all you have to do is ask for me.” Taking the paper he had slipped into his pocket moments ago, Cris quickly scanned the list to make sure he had gotten everything. While he usually just ate at the restaurant, cooking at home was far more relaxing and he hadn’t done personal food shopping in a while. ‘I’m going to make myself a feast.’ The werelion thought to himself, enjoying his day off more than usual.

“Do you have everything you need?” He looked over at Himchan’s cart. “There’s a coffee place three shops over. Not too far.” Upside was that he knew the owner of that place, and he always seemed to spoil Cris when he came in, as long as he returned the favor in his establishment. Everything has advantages and disadvantages. “We can catch up and I’ll make sure we both get home before our food rots.”

“I’m touched -- extremely grateful.” Himchan cannot hide the grin on his face. Cris was still the true MVP, as Himchan put it. Only true bros would offer to buy each other meat if worse came to worse. Himchan hoped his meat would not spoil, for Cris’ sake. Even if he was appreciative, he could not put his old friend through that trouble. Also, men buy their own meat, right? He didn’t need Cris touching his.

The words Himchan had been so hoping to hear were like music to his ears. He had heard correctly, right? “A-are you sure?” It was all for show, but Himchan wanted to act like he at least had some second thoughts. While he was well-off, getting things, especially food, for free was always a joy. Already, the thoughts of rare steak dance across his vision, pumping his salivary glands into overdrive. “If you’re ever, and I hope you’re not, in an altercation, I will make sure to fix you up, pro bono!” To put it lightly, Himchan loved steak.

He gives one final glance at his cart, determining that it would be enough, for now. “Yes.” His dark eyes return to Cris, toothy smile returning to his face. The hiccup from before was already out of his mind. Food had made sure of that. “That sounds good to me. We should head on over right now.” In his haste, he begins to wheel his cart on over towards the register, quick to begin to load his produce onto the belt. The process is smooth enough, and Himchan finds himself with two plastic bags in hand, waiting for Cris to meet him on the other side.

Out of all the creatures he could’ve been turned into, nothing suits him better than being a were – specifically, a werewolf. His lively, go-with-the-flow personality meshes well with the natural intuitiveness and adaptability of wolves. If his heightened senses and shifting stop tripping him up, then he could settle into his new role more comfortably. 

“Hikers? Once or twice, but they’ll keep walking if you pretend to be a drunk,” he says. “Then you gotta haul ass to get out of here because they might call the cops.” His words carry a lively, bouncy quality to them that reflects his good mood. “Really?” he says. “How do you usually spend full moons? If I come up here, then it’s a little easier controlling myself for the rest of the month. I’ll get antsy if I don’t run loose once in awhile. But, I guess I’ve always been that way!” 

It’s true. Even as a child, his babysitters used to make him fun laps so he’d fall asleep at night. They didn’t even need to ask him; they’d just bring him to an open track and field, then he’d take off like a bullet. “The name’s Bond, James Bond,” he says. 

He grins.

“Just kidding!” he says. “I’m Dongwoo, professional nudist as of recently.” The young man laughs at his own joke and it’s a loud, unashamed sound that carries far through the forest. “I’m not really sure what the rules are and nobody’s got the sense to tell me, so I just keep breaking them,” he says. “I break them harder than you tried to break my jaw.” 

In contrast to Himchan’s more cautious take on being a creature of the night, it seems to him that the man was more free -- more unrestrained. It was how a werewolf should be, he thinks, if they didn’t crave for human viscera and bone. At the moment, Himchan did not quite have the trust in himself. The previous night was a stepping point though -- the first step to tethering the beast within him and grabbing hold of the reins. He figures his fellow werewolf had done a decent job of distracting him, too. However, Himchan does not want to remember the butt-sniffing that had surely transpired.

The information is noted mentally. “I hope we don’t come across any hikers then.” Adding the police to his already loaded plate was more than he could handle. “On most full moons, I usually chain myself up in my condo.” It was shameful to say aloud, but it was the truth. What kind of werewolf was he? Himchan was sure he was meant to be free. He could not risk other lives for the lack of his control, though. “How do you make sure you don’t… you know?” He couldn’t say kill other people. The words had caught in his throat, leaving a lump there. “I mean, it sucks. Having to chain yourself up every full moon.. I want to be able to come here every time. I want to be able to run loose, like you.” He sighs, one hand reaching up to rub at his nape.

The name is no stranger to Himchan’s ears, and he cannot help but to erupt into laughter. “Right. James Bond. So you’re an agent?” He gives a shake of his head, picking up his pace to walk alongside his new friend. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Dongwoo. I am Himchan, also a nudist. We must be coworkers, then!” A cheeky grin is upon his face. Dongwoo was a strange one, but Himchan found himself amused with his company and jokes. Himchan was loosening up; he could feel himself becoming more comfortable. The jaw joke, however, has Himchan reeling in regret, again. “Oh, come on! I didn’t mean to. You were just too close, and I had just woken up. It was a dangerous situation.” He wanted to know why anyone would think it was ever a good idea to shove oneself in someone’s face -- especially when that someone is asleep and a stranger!

Jinhwan stares blankly at Himchan for a moment. He’s having trouble switching gears from nearly scolding Himchan for touching his feathers, his brain slow to process what seems to be a confession of some kind. He’s completely caught off guard.

“You’ve… got to be–” Jinhwan starts, but trails off. Himchan has no idea about him, right? He didn’t know Jinhwan was a witch before and seems to have somehow missed that now to the point Himchan’s actually flustering over this? – He was actually serious?

But Himchan? a were? Is that what he’s saying? Well, shit.

“Shit…You are serious.” It’s a statement of fact, voice quiet as his eyes focus, and he stares at Himchan unblinkingly. Jinhwan is truly flabbergasted. Himchan’s a were — a werewolf — and he thinks Jinhwan’s a werebird. That’s literally what’s happening here.

He opens his mouth, and closes it, glancing down at the counter and trying to figure out a way to deal with this situation elegantly. He’s not so sure there’s an easy way to soften the truth when Himchan’s unwittingly (mistakenly) outed himself like this. “One moment,” he mumbles. He walks around the counter cautiously and flips a sign on the entrance door over to indicate the shop is closed; he’d hate for someone to waltz into this conversation. Sighing, he plops back down, this time on top of the counter and crosses his legs, apron draping over them.

“Himchan… Himchan, I don’t…” he starts again, and resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. The unfortunate point he needs to convey is bad enough without him cringing physically too. “I’ve told you about my shop, haven’t I? Sure, I might have left out a few details but I still make—“ he waves his hand at his merchandise “—all this myself, minus the rather showy display case in the corner – Minhee keeps outdoing herself…” he adds, mumbling. He hooks a claw under his shirt and draws forth a patinaed little charm, playing with it. He can’t quite look at his friend in front of him, cursing how this situation has managed to become even more awkward than he thought it would be before, back when Himchan first said he was on his way.

“I get all kinds in here–humans, beastblooded, weres–so I see no point in trying to hide what I am. I like my customers to feel I’m like them. But… I’m not a were, Himchan. I’m… sorry.”

The nervousness Himchan feels is thick, permeating off of him in tidal waves. There is no need for complete panic yet, but the waves are growing larger with each passing second. It was the right move to tell his friend, he thinks. Being alone in such a life, being supernatural, was terrible; Himchan could attest to that himself. So, why, why was he feeling he should have given it a second thought?

“Yes. I am serious, Jinhwan.” The way Jinhwan said that makes Himchan uneasy. He had to be strong for his friend, though, right? It is not the time to joke. To him, this is a serious topic at hand. Why would he not be serious? This is important to him! “I wouldn’t joke about this. I don’t think it is a joke. I don’t think that what we..are is a joke.” And it wasn’t. Being a were, one had to adopt a serious attitude, or else instances of losing control and giving way to the animal were all the more easier. It was a responsibility he had to take up without a choice.

The thundering of his heart against his chest tells him that something is wrong. The way Jinhwan is acting sets his anxiety spiking, and Himchan doesn’t know what to do except to bite onto his lower lip, peeling the skin. He waits patiently, beginning to fiddle with his fingers. Jinhwan was probably just thinking of a way to open up to him -- yeah, that was it. It was not easy to talk about these things. Nothing could prepare someone to have a heart-to-heart with their friendly-competition-bro. They were usually trying to find ways to one-up the other, not have a deep conversation!

Himchan almost jumps when Jinhwan passes by him. He forces a small laugh at himself and rubs at his nape. “Y-yeah?” He swallows, hard. The lump beginning to form in his throat said enough. He had made a fundamental mistake. Shit. “Oh, you make… this all?” His brown orbs dart from one corner of the room to another, scanning what is on display. Everything, except for the dildos, is potions. Potions. “Fuck.” He inaudibly murmurs beneath his breath.

His gaze immediately falls to the ground, unable to reach Jinhwan, or even his potions. Of course, how could he overlook such a thing. “Oh.” He cannot even find anymore words. The blow was too much. To add insult to injury, he felt embarrassed, too. His ears were burning a bright red, though his face felt cool to the touch.

Goosebumps raise along his arms and the thin, wiry hair on the back of his neck stands on end. A shiver shooting through his spine makes his whole body tremble, as though every ounce of him were fighting to stay in a human form. He doesn’t know why shifting is so difficult for him. He assumes it’s just one of those things that happen without explanation like the true function of the appendix or why some people only breathe through one nostril. Odd, but hardly concerning when he has greater things to worry about.

It takes some fighting for control, but he squeezes in a few words between puppy-like yapping. “We don’t have time for eventually!” he says. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want an early bird hiker to see an unexpected full moon on the trail.”

It’s a valid concern. The two of them are very, very naked. 

“I marked some trees around here – uh, not with piss or anything like that,” he says. “We might be wolves, but we don’t have to stoop to that kinda level. I used some Axe body spray because that stuff lasts forever, yeah?”

Dongwoo dances around pine cones and thistles with a quick, surefooted ease. He never once looks at the ground to see where he’s headed but instead, keeps his nose pointed in the air. It’s intuition that puts his body on autopilot, freeing up his focus on more important matters. Namely, trying to find a bunch of trees coated in two canisters of the most obnoxious body spray known to mankind.

Suddenly, he snaps his fingers and turns in a circle. He walks back in the exact direction – thistles, thorns, and all – that they’d just come from. “Aha, it’ll probably be easier to find if we’re walking upwind,” he says. “Anyway, are you new or something? You’re actually the first werewolf I’ve met! Well, the first that’s not beating me up for breaking some kinda unspoken wolf rules.”

Dark irises fixate on the naked man in front of him. Who was this guy, anyways? He was another werewolf, yes, but beyond that. Although more than happy to meet another person like him, could he really trust him based on that fact alone? Maybe Himchan was stupid, but he was going to try to follow the man. They had frolicked around together as wolves, after all -- how much worse could it be?

The bare man has a point. It would be a whole other horror story if a hiker or two decided to make the morning trek to the forest. “Have you come across hikers out here?” Himchan decides on easy talk, trying to get a firmer grasp on who the other was. “I mean, this is my first time actually spending my shift out here..” He shares a bit more personal information, eyes moving to the ground to watch where he was stepping.

Himchan nearly steps on a sharp rock, only just avoiding it. He jerks his body forward, grumbling about how the ground was much rougher on his feet than he had remembered. “Axe can also be smelled a mile away..” He adds. “Smart idea, dude.” Himchan realizes he has yet to know the stranger’s name. “Uh, instead of calling you dude, what’s your name?”

Contrary to the stranger’s habit of not checking where he was walking, Himchan was far too observant with the ground and all of its possible threats. So enraptured was he by this that he did not even notice the circles the werewolf was leading them in. Instead, he noticed the thistles, ants, rocks, and animal dung on the forest floor. On the bright side, he was not stepping on anything -- however, he had no idea they were being led the complete wrong way.

This was nothing less than two — no, three headaches bundled into one giant unwanted gift package and dropped on her front doorstep without her permission; she’d never ordered it in the first place, and yet she’s being accused of being responsible for it? How just like him it was, to put such an outlandish blame on her, as if it were her fault; just like when he’d left her, back then. 

Is she surprised he hasn’t changed? Not really, no, but it damn sure still irritates her on the sheer principle of the matter. 

“Trap you?!” She near screeches, her voice bouncing off the walls of the elevator. “Trust me, if I had any interest in trapping you somewhere, I wouldn’t need some stupid elevator to pull it off!” 

Time is not a friend in a case like this — no, it simply gnaws at her, building up impatience, frustration, anger all in one compact, square box. And for him to sit there and just tell her off, as if he had the right to? Who does he think he is — who does he think she is?

“I’m sorry — what?” When she huffs in laughter, it’s no less dry than the throat of some poor sap struggling in a summer desert. “If you have to suffer? You’re the worst part of this damn mess!” She stamps her foot for emphasis, the elevator shaking slightly at the force of it as she growls; really, her ability to keep herself in check has never been all too good, but with him around, it just seemed to get worse by the second. 

It only adds to the amount of bite behind her words when she speaks, even as she crosses her arms and leans against the opposite wall, teeth gritting in irritation. “You have a dog so that means you smell like you’ve been spooning it in its little dog bed for days on end? That’s the point you’ve gotten to after all these years? Gross.” 

For all that she’d been ready to be given some sort of reason to tear him apart (not that she cares one way or another about killing him, that said — it’d just be fun to leave him incapacitated in an elevator, so that when the thing finally came back on, he’d be stuck, unable to move while she casually sashayed her way out at the very first stop), she finds herself amused at his grand, astute observation. Not that she could blame him for the surprise.

“Yeah, and?” She grins, a snarky, confident expression that curls her lip upwards for the first time. “I happen to think it smells wonderful, so thanks for the compliment.” Something about that seemed… odd, though. The wheels in her head turn as her eyes narrow slightly in equal parts confusion and suspicion. 

“But… how do you smell that?” It’s not as though she’s doused in the stuff or anything, after all.  

It really had not been his intentions to perturb her. Himchan had fallen to petty emotions -- emotions he now wishes that he had overcome. It was fun to push her buttons, but when she reflected back unto him, the joy of it all was sucked away, disappearing into a distant black hole. He still thinks she absolutely deserves it.

“How am I to know what ideas you come up with? You always liked having the upper hand! What better way than to trap me where I cannot escape?” He raises his voice, not nearly as loud as Juri’s, but his voice still vibrates through the elevator. Years ago, he would have been too afraid to do such a thing. Now, though, he felt liberated from her. Perhaps he was getting too carried away, though. After their exchange, he hopes he never has to see her again. It would be easier that way.

“Me?” Himchan grasps his chest with a hand, eyes staring incredulously at the woman. Her statement made no sense to him. “I’m sorry, were you the one who had to fucking walk on eggshells just to be treated even somewhat decently?” His blood was boiling, fueled by her words. The audacity. “I never wanted to see your damn face again. And here we are.”

When the elevator shakes, Himchan glances up. It makes him nervous. One thing that was worse than being trapped in a non-functioning elevator with Juri was being trapped in a non-functioning elevator with Juri, unconscious. To say he did not trust her was an understatement. After all that they had been through, he could not bring himself to anymore.

The years may have ruined the memories of her that he once had, tainting them with only cruel words and touches. It was the bad that prevailed, the good having died long ago. Their relationship had been a far fall from perfect, but somewhere in the back of his mind, Himchan knew he was being more hostile than merited.

Oh. Nevermind. “What the hell?!” He sputters. Of all the things she has said, this sharp-tongued comment caught him by surprise. He was grasping at straws, trying to find the appropriate response to fire back at her. “All right, you caught me. I don’t have a dog!” Himchan grumbles. He would rather reveal himself to her as a werewolf than to be accused of such a humiliating act. Cuddling a dog was fine. Spooning with a dog? That was nasty.

The scent of the blood had already began to make him salivate. His tongue craved for the metallic taste, but he would not allow it that luxury if he could help it. He was better than his wolf instincts. “It is revolting.. Didn’t you ever learn not to play with rotting carcasses? You reek of death. Don’t pet the dead cat on the road!”

His response made him even more suspicious. Besides the fact that he never even used kitty litter or owned a cat to begin with, must of meant his sense of smell was in line with that of a supernatural. But instead of questioning further, and risk making his friend uncomfortable, Cris decided to drop it. The two did get closer than most in that moment and maybe something around them was just throwing him off.  

Or maybe regular felines did have a specific scent to them. “Guess I need to take better showers.” The man joked, rubbing the back of his neck. “But no animals at home for me, I’m enough of one on my own.” His own words make him smirk. 

As his eyes panned over to the surrounding meats, Cris realized he almost forgot why he was here in the first place. He had been too engrossed with catching up with an old friend, and almost walked out without grabbing what he needed. Reaching out to the venison, he picked up three packages then turned back to Himchan. This would be enough for his meal for tomorrow. 

“So listen…are you free after this?” He inquired, moving in a bit closer. He was sure he smelled wolf on him earlier, but it would probably be too much to give him another hug. “I was going to ask if you wanted to go get a coffee after this. Since we both have frozen meats, I won’t take too much of your time…” His words trailed off when he realized how long its been since they’ve actually hung out together. “…but I missed hanging out with you and I want to catch up.”

A pang of guilt stabbed his insides. Cris did not smell unpleasant, as he had implied. It made him feel wrong that he had resorted to such finger-pointing in order to save his own ass, not that he had even been able to. After all, Cris had mentioned wolves, and Himchan was not that dense. The other male knew, in one way or another. But that meant that Cris was, indeed, supernatural himself, and Himchan connected the dots. He had to be a werecat.

At the comment, Himchan awkwardly forced a laugh. “Or maybe it is just me.” He turned his head to sniff at his own shoulder for show. When he brought his head back up, a smile had returned to his face. This was definitely not the way he had wanted to meet his friend after a few years. The least he could do was to try to salvage the interaction by being silly. Or was it his goofiness that brought them to this in the first place?

His eyes drifted towards the grocery cart full of meat before returning back to Cris. “Yeah! I don’t have anything planned.” Himchan cleared his throat. It had been a number of years since the last time they had even seen each other. Excitement rose up within him, overriding the prior nervousness that had been building up. “That would be really nice. You can tell me more about your restaurant, too!” Being a self-proclaimed food connoisseur, Himchan definitely felt the need to try his very own friend’s dishes. There was no way he would let the opportunity pass.

Jinhwan makes a noise like he’s unsure of if he should scoff or laugh, but it sounds rather derisive either way. “Handsome?”  He pauses like he’s actually considering it and shrugs. “Sure, but it’s not really your appearance I’m concerned will scare my dear customers off,” Jinhwan rebuts, leering. His expression still relaxes after, playful – but he’s not missed Himchan’s staring, by any means, the feathers on his arms prickling. Of course Himchan noticed. But his tone is normal enough, so Jinhwan keeps his cool… For the few seconds it takes Himchan to say that. A werebird? Jinhwan is inexplicably simultaneously caught off guard and indignant. He bristles more visibly, though he can’t say what about the statement makes him the most startled. This isn’t so much playing around like their usual banter; is Himchan serious? The silly grin on his face isn’t very clarifying. Here to see his shop, but so obviously staring at Jinhwan? Right. Jinhwan’s eye twitches. “Why are you over here asking me silly questions and not eagerly perusing my merchandise if you didn’t miss me?” he asks, eyebrows raised dramatically. “Really, Channie. A werebird – what could make you ask that?” He should laugh it off, redirect the question, but there’s something about it that just digs under his skin and makes him absolutely cross. He curls his hand and leans over the counter on it, and his tone goes lower and monotone. “What if I am? Is that supposed to be a joke?” he deadpans, eyes boring into Himchan. It’s meant as a joke, really, softened more or less with a “That seems insensitive of you, doesn’t it?” and a cheeky grin, like he’s just giving him a hard time, but dark eyes still stare critically. Jinhwan is, after all, honestly curious. It almost certainly was not a joke.

Himchan notices that Jinhwan appears to be rather perplexed. Whether it was his presence or an unrelated matter, he does not know. He decides on the latter, though.

“Is it my personality then?” He gasps, clutching a hand to his chest. “I have to say, I am a cool dude to hang out with. I am sure your customers would agree if they got to chill with me.” Being friendly was one of his prized traits, after all, and he would not accept that some people disliked him, even if they truly did.

The irritation coming off of Jinhwan is almost unmistakably because of him, though. He knows it now. He can almost smell it. Slowly, he brings a hand to his mouth, teeth beginning to chew his nails out of habit -- oh, and he was nervous. Maybe today had not been the best day to visit Jinhwan. Usually, he would enjoy getting underneath Jinhwan’s skin, but something has him on edge -- something has his guts twisting. Is it because of the feathers?

“I thought I should greet you first before I spend hours looking through everything.” He adds a small laugh at the end, trying to salvage the situation. At the question, though, a real smile comes onto his lips. “Oh, I don’t know.” Himchan’s free hand reaches over to Jinhwan’s face, taking an iridescent feather between his index finger and thumb. “Maybe this gave you away.” With a feather in between his fingers, he admires it closer. Jinhwan or not, he has to admit, the feathers are a pretty addition. “I know of someone else who has issues with keeping their animal side under wraps, too..” He mumbles, eyes lifting back to Jinhwan.

The question alarms him, and Himchan is uncertain how to respond. Was his friend really a were this whole time? Himchan feels his heart start to beat hard against his chest, and a cold sweat breaking out over his skin. “I-I am sorry, Jinhwan. I would never judge you if you were a were, you know?” His gaze is unable to meet Jinhwan’s. Brown irises, instead, focus on the counter. “I didn’t mean to treat you like a joke or be insensitive about the matter. I was so blunt because, well..” Himchan trails off, voice lowering into a whisper. “I mean, I am not a bird, mind you, but a wolf.”

The hug was welcomed by Cris, glad that even with the years of distance, their friendship was still intact. He clasped his arm around the other tight and chuckled when he patted his back. But it was something about his scent that still bothered him. Being so close, made his sense of smell ten times better and Himchan smelled exactly like a werewolf. But from what Cris remembered, he was always a human. And to think he might of been turned seemed a little unnerving for the man. As Cris sniffed him, he soon realized Himchan was smelling him too. Just a couple of guys hugging it out in the meat section and smelling eachother’s necks.

This was definitely normal.

After finally pulling away, Cris flashed his old friend a sheepish grin. “Uh, thanks. You too.” He finally managed out realizing how awkward that must of looked. “I changed carriers and lost all my contacts. But besides that…” Thinking back to the years that followed graduation, Cris remembers only that it was very hectic for him. Between the Yu Pride training, and balancing a degree and culinary training it was not a fun time for him. That was until he met her. “…life got a little crazy for a bit. But no matter, I made it out and now I own my own restaurant in the Central District.” Hearing about his friends own success gave Cris another reason to smile again. “Well look at you, now I know who to go to if I need some healing.” Resting his hand on his shoulder, he squeezed it slightly as a subtle show of affection. Cris was happy to see him after all these years again.

”Cats?” The question caught him off guard but made him chuckle. “I don’t have any cats…why? Do I smell like one?” He eyed him suspiciously. Only a were could pick up something like that. “Do you raise wolves as a hobby or something?”

Himchan was aware their gestures were probably very odd, but tried not to care too much at this point. It had been too long since he had last seen Cris, and, heck, he reasoned, he was allowed to embrace his bro wherever he wanted to.

The urge to further tease Cris on the subject of having “left him” persisted, but Himchan knew better than to continue. There were times he had to be serious, and he figured that this should be one. “Well, I am glad things worked out for you. I know how it can be with life getting in the way and being chaotic..” Himchan’s life had only just been thrown into turmoil, with being bitten and having to learn how to live with his curse now. His entire life had been rather secure, so it was a complete change, and, frankly, it was very frightening. It was a mystery to him how others could live with such stress that was beyond their control.

“But, wow, you have your own restaurant?” There was genuine surprise in his tone. “We can have an exchange. I will make sure to do amazing surgeries on you should you need it, so long as you make sure I get all I can eat steak.” An amused laugh followed after. It was mostly offered as a joke, but Himchan could only hope for all the steak that he could consume.

“I-I mean..” He stumbled over his words, not sure how he should proceed. Are normal people not able to smell cats? Himchan could hardly recall anymore. “You smell like kitty litter–” He began, but was brought to a grinding halt at Cris’ words. Wolves were too specific. Cris knew.

In a brief moment of disorientation, he could’ve sworn his head whisplashed a full 360°. Bright white dots – like little amoebas, he thinks – swim in the corners of his vision, darting away whenever he tries focusing on them. He’s never been slapped with another werewolf’s strength before. Rad. 

The slap must’ve snapped his vocal chords back to normal because he found himself able to talk again, as short lived as it may be. The young werewolf is learning not to expect too much of himself. His body does whatever the hell it feels like whether in the safety of the city’s nightlife or in all the exposure of broad daylight. If it wants to wolf out on him, then there’s nothing to do but cover up. 

Dongwoo grins in that toothy, cheeky way of his that drives all his companions mad. “The first werewolf I meet is into playing it rough and sniffing ass,” he says. “Nice.”

Apparently, smelling someone’s ass is the canine version of a Facebook friend request. Dongwoo hates his life. 

He’s kinda over the shedding, the flea-borne diseases, the barking, and the full-frontal nudity of being a werewolf. He’d be embarrassed a few weeks ago. But now? All the weirdness he’s exposed to in his new supernatural life results in a very meh, fuck it attitude. He’s jaded. Well, at least when it comes to the downsides. The cool parts about being a werewolf haven’t gotten old yet; the exhilaration that comes with a hunter’s game of cat and mouse is still as exciting as it was on day one.

He can’t wait to share his experience with someone like him. Maybe his werewolf companion was more experienced and could show him the ropes. If he was also a newbie, then they could stumble their way through the supernatural world together. It’d be great, he thinks. It’d be like The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, except with two dudes and a lot of fur. 

Dongwoo tries to speak again, but he feels a tightening in his throat that means his vocal chords are moving around again. All that comes out are a stream of barks – indignant barks, to his credit – and an annoyed growl. Well, shit. How is he supposed to tell his naked friend that he’s got spare clothes buried nearby? 

He tilts his head to the side, the angle having the sunlight streaming through the treetops bounce off yellow irises. He takes a moment to study the other werewolf as he would drafts for his painting. This man would make great subject matter, whether he’s naked, clothed, or caked in dirt from the forest floor. He yanks on Himchan’s wrist as if to get him to follow. 

He doesn’t care if he yanks too hard and it hurts. After all, he just got slapped upside the head.

With no immediate response from the man, Himchan can only watch on in horror, wondering if he had applied too much force into the slap. He swears it was not that hard, but the reaction from the bare man suggested otherwise. Damn. If only he had his fanny pack. The least he could do was offer the man some ibuprofen to dull the pain. It was his fault, after all.

“I’m sorry, dude.” He repeats the apology once again. There was not much else he can do at the moment. Teeth sinking into his bottom lip in worry, Himchan is considering to offer the man a gift card to some high-end restaurant as an apology gift. That thought, however, is short-lived. He is not sure he wants to anymore when the man finally speaks.

Himchan gawks; his face, no doubt, is beginning to turn red. He can feel even his ears burning! “Yeah, well, I am sorry?” He is unsure of what else to say. Himchan is usually very vocal, but now he is considering treading very lightly. If this man was into rough play, Himchan did not want to turn him on and send the wrong message. He makes a very quick mental note to himself to never hit the other werewolf again if he can help it. Weird guy or not, Himchan wants to at least attempt to keep in contact with him. A strange werewolf to lean on was better than none.

The barks are unexpected, and Himchan begins to laugh. “You’re messed up, aren’t you?” Some days after a full moon, his tail would hang around for a few hours, or even his ears, but it had never affected his voice. It was amusing. Although he knows the struggle of being a werewolf, it was nice to know someone else was experiencing similar issues. It made him feel like he was not alone. It made him feel like maybe he belonged, somewhere.

A pleased grin is still on his face when he is yanked up. That grin is quickly gone. He grunts, having not expected to be tugged at. He wants to whine and complain, so he does.

“You couldn’t have been more gentle? If you wanted me to get up you could have barked at me some more.. I would have gotten the message, eventually.” He huffs. Although he would never admit it himself, Himchan is very dramatic. He does not even register the hypocrisy in the situation, or the fact that the stranger had not whined even once when he was smacked in the head.

Jinhwan sits at the counter, knee bouncing. He glances at the few short texts from Himchan and groans, frowning as he watches for movement outside the shop. Really, it’s not that he dislikes the guy or anything. The opposite, really, which might be the reason Himchan provokes a petty competitive streak in Jinhwan that he forgets he has. It’s likely in part due to the fact they’re the same age, too, and Himchan’s over there being a medical student of all things – isn’t that fancy? So prestigious. Jealous is certainly not the right word for it, but he does feel like he has something to prove… which is rather difficult to do when Himchan doesn’t actually know what Jinhwan does for a living. Jinhwan bites at his lip. He’s not entirely sure Himchan even knows he’s a witch in particular; he has been selling Always Swallow like it’s a high end but giving no indication it’s much more than an ordinary supplements shop, after all. He’s not got time to go take a reverting potion with any kind of dignity here either, so he’s stuck greeting Himchan with bared feathered arms and the clawed nails now running through his hair with another dreary huff of air. Perhaps he feels like Himchan won’t handle it well. Call it an instinct he has. There’s never really a right time for these things either, he thinks. Best to rip the proverbial bandaid off all at once then, right? There’s movement outside the door and then Himchan is in his shop, grinning, and Jinhwan sighs, long and dramatic, keeping to his stool. “You’ve scared off all the customers, and you’ve only just walked in, Channie,” Jinhwan starts, mock irritated. (There’s nothing at all wrong here, so he won’t act like there is, even if his heart is beating a little harder in anticipation of what he thinks is Himchan’s inevitable reaction.) He places a clawed hand over his aproned chest. “You missed me this much?”

Almost as soon as he enters, Himchan is whisked into an alternate world. It seems he often feels this way when he visits a witch’s shop of sorts. The varieties of potion range from a plethora of colors and reminded him of a kaleidoscope. They were admirable, really, and Himchan wonders what could have been had he become a witch instead of being bit by a werewolf. It is an unattainable dream now, so he tries not waste much time reflecting on it. But, wait… that meant...

The mere idea of Jinhwan being a witch makes Himchan pause to scratch his head. He had never pondered the idea of Jinhwan being anything other than human. Surely, there was no way that Jinhwan was a witch. The potions must have been mixed by a supplier. And when his orbs lock on the man, his mind begins to reel even more.

Were those feathers on his face? Himchan cannot help his blatant staring. Never before had he noticed them. He was unmistakable though -- feathers or not, that was Jinhwan. Rather than a witch, Himchan thinks it is entirely possible that Jinhwan is a werebird, instead.

Staring is rude, Himchan reminds himself. Lips curving up into a friendly smile, Himchan approaches the counter. “I think my presence would do quite the opposite, Hwannie.” He adds the nickname in last second as a sort of response to the one bestowed on him. “I’m sure both of us can agree that I am handsome.” Usually, he would not be talking this highly of himself, but this was Jinhwan. Two inflated egos could not fit into one room, and Himchan is determined to bounce the other out.

He jumps back slightly, the smaller thief admittedly caught off guard at the sight of the pair of fangs that greeted him. Oh shit oh shit oh shit, was he really that careless to steal from a vamp? The very creatures he’s been trying to avoid? He gulps nervously, eyes glancing around for the fastest escape route. 

His search comes up blank however, the raven swearing under his breath before eyes meet the older. He just needs to play things cool for now, perhaps he was just jumping to conclusions. Not everyone who has sharp canines are vampires, right? The raven’s grip on the wallet tightens, debating if he should just hand over the wallet and let that be the end of it. 

“Oi, what the hell are you?” He asks, ignoring the male’s request for the return of his possession. No, the younger was more focused on trying to figure out what this guy was. His head tilts to the side lightly, eyes narrowing while mouth was left slightly agape. While his sensory skills were sub par, he fancied himself an expert in the ‘figuring out where the vamps were and avoiding them’ field, but this guy felt anything but vampire. 

When the thief does not return the wallet at his demand, Himchan feels an involuntary growl rumble in his chest. Had he meant to growl? Oh well. It did not matter to him in this instant. All he wanted was to have his wallet back safely in his possession.

“I’m your worst nightmare, kid.” He knew that was a cheesy line, but he could not help himself. Besides, it seemed somewhat true. A thief’s worst nightmare was to be caught in the act and have to suffer the consequences of their actions. Whether this thief’s consequences were to be scared shitless or for things to grow physical, well, that was his choice.

“My legs are just fine, don’t you worry.” He pats his own thigh to further emphasise his point. “It’s yours we have to watch out for.” Their pace is still slower now though, and since they’re no longer rushing, Taehyung takes the time to think about the answer to Himchan’s question. Has anything exciting happened to him?

Well-

A tiny flush rises on his cheeks. There’s Yonggeum. That’s a very big, very exciting thing, but he’s not sure it’s something he’s close enough to Himchan to be telling him about. No, no, best not to - even though he does want to talk about the dragon, he’s reasonably sure he won’t be able to shut up if he starts. It’s probably not the greatest idea. Beyond that, he also likes this short period of secrecy before no doubt someone finds out.

“Well,” he says out loud, scratching the back of his head. “There’s school - not that there’s a lot exciting about it, but midterms are nearly done and I got my projects in. Work’s been nice - busy, but nice. And- oh! Yuja can shake both paws on command now.” Taehyung beams in pride - he’s been working particularly hard on training her. 

“What about you? Anything new?”

Half of him wants to tumble over to make a scene in regards to his legs. Only half. Himchan has enough sense to not do so and simply roll his eyes. Even if he had his fanny pack at his aid, any dramatics would definitely impede their arrival to the restaurant, after all. His self-renown acting would have to wait for another time -- when food wasn’t on the line.

The blush spreading across Taehyung’s cheeks is overlooked by Himchan -- easily chalked up to the weather. Now, Himchan did not think it was too hot or cold, but he had noticed that Taehyung seemed more sensitive to such things than he was. He shrugs it off, instead, listening.

“How do you think you did? You better pass your classes or hyung here will be awfully upset.” Himchan chides, used to constantly nagging at other people -- especially those younger than him. It was easy to tease.

The name comes off as slightly familiar, and Himchan thinks he can recall a dog. It has been quite some time, though, and he does not think he is too privy about meeting the animal again, not after he has changed. Himchan does not think dogs and werewolves mix well.

Excitement lit up in his eyes as he noticed the older enjoying the gifted baked good, Hoseok had developed a recent habit of swiping cookies from the front display. Mostly for his room mate, but for himself - He did help make some of cookies afterall. His wide smile falters slightly at the mention of the couple behind them, the fox sitting down across from the male like before. His eyes quickly dart over at the pair, an uneasy look replaces his typical cheerfulness.

 "Ah.. It’s nothing.“ He replies, flashing him a weak smile of reassurance. He didn’t want his hyung to worry, let alone get involved with what was just two teenagers making his job more difficult than it had to be. This was a moment where Hoseok could gladly say he was happy in his future career choice of being a kindergarten teacher. He doubts he could have the patience or even the guts to deal with the dreaded teenagers. He tries to shrug off the uneasy feeling in his stomach, clicking the ballpoint pen in his grasp as if to help keep his mind off of it. 

“Just kids.. being kids.” He laughs lightly, really trying to play it off like those two didn’t worry him in the slightest. Not that they honestly did, Hoseok just couldn’t handle situations with high tension very well. “How’s your drink, hyung?” He decides to change the subject quickly, hoping he made it to the older’s liking. He wasn’t one for caffeinated beverages, though he did find himself taking a double shot of espresso every now and then, mostly during the morning shifts. Hoseok was his own naturally source of energy, as he likes to joke. Caffeine only adds to his hyperness, and that was something that could be taken down a couple notches as is. 

A glimmer of hope in his eyes, Hoseok glances over as the kids stand up and head for the door, a small sigh of relief escapes his mouth. He really tries to get along with all the customers, he really does. But with some people, even the cheerful fox had trouble being well, cheerful. He beams a signature Hobi smile as soon the pair leaves towards the male, his usual bright mood returning. 

The cookie is lifted up to his lips again. Slowly, he nibbles on it while listening to the barista’s response. It did not seem like nothing to him, but Himchan could understand where he was coming from. Often times, Himchan would have to deal with unpleasant patients while in the hospital. It was just something that came with working with other people. That did not make it any less annoying.

“Kids these days..” Himchan clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “They just think they are on top of this world.” He likes to joke about it, but it did bear some of his true thoughts about recent generations. To him, it seems as though each generation has less respect and manners -- that’s why it was his job to “raise” them. He figures the barista’s problem related to the teenagers are regarding manners, anyways.

“It is amazing as always. Thank you.” As if to drive the point home, Himchan took a long draw of the beverage. When he set the cup back down, his gaze refocuses on the barista. “I have been coming here for awhile, but I have yet to catch your name. I figure it would not hurt to know each other’s names. I am Kim Himchan, by the way, but just Himchan is fine.”

An amused laugh rises from his mouth. It was rather obvious that the poor barista was glad for the departure of the couple. He could relate, too. There were times where he was relieved of being free of particular patients. The worst part of it all was that, in these types of jobs, one is simply not allowed to voice their displeasures. They have to grin and bear through.

She whipped around instinctively when he spoke. It wasn’t the Himchan she knew, it wasn’t the voice she was so used to hearing. And maybe it was a bad idea to turn your back on a man who is trying to kill you, but she couldn’t help herself. She was so shocked, so taken aback by his growling voice, that she spun around. And whatever she had been expecting, it wasn’t this.

Himchan was barely himself anymore. No, the face she was used to attributing to her friend was gone, replaced by a long muzzle and ferocious teeth. She gasped. It wasn’t a full moon, why was he turning? The grip on her knife slackened. Jieun had painfully little knowledge about her furry friends, and she thought that was about to come and bite her in the butt. Did they sometimes turn randomly? Would he have control over himself? These were questions that Jieun didn’t have answers to.

When the gangster laughed at them, the sound cut through the air like a sword. Jieun tore her eyes away from Himchan to look at him. She still wanted to protect Himchan. He might be stronger like this, but he wasn’t invincible. And he had already been shot. Her fingers closed more tightly around the knife once more, that feeling of anger swelling up inside of her once again, completely eclipsing the shock she felt at Himchan’s transformation.

When he raised his gun towards Himchan again, Jieun moved to attack him while he was distracted. But Himchan was faster, much faster. He was nothing but a blur as he leapt at the man, pinning him to the ground, ripping into him, tearing him apart. Jieun froze. He seemed frenzied, out of control. Would he stop after just one man? She trusted that he wouldn’t hurt her, but she didn’t want to see him run off into the night and hurt some other innocent man.

But it was when he turned to look at her, when Jieun saw the glimpse of humanity still in him, that true fury hit her. The yelp that issued from Himchan spurred her forward. She wasn’t afraid of him and she couldn’t be afraid of the man on the ground either. He could shoot her, kill her, it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t let him hurt Himchan again. He had already suffered enough for her stupidity.

She slipped between Himchan and the man with surprising ease and with adrenaline fueled strength, she pushed Himchan, trying to get him out of the way.

“Move!” she screamed at him. “I know it hurts but move! I will help you in a minute!”

Knife still in hand, looked at the man who was gushed blood from his neck and chest. He was barely clinging to life, but he still fought. As if it would spare him. Jieun looked down at him with nothing but hatred. His knife, which he had somehow managed to pull from Himchan’s shoulder, swiped at her. It grazed her cheek, forming a gash there. Jieun bit back a hiss of pain.

“Fuck you,” she snapped, before shoving her own blade through his eye socket. His limbs fell limp. Pressing a hand to her own face, she rushed over to Himchan, a massive wolf bleeding from his shoulder. Her hands were shaking as she trying to examine it. There was a lot of blood all over both of them, and she was trying to forget that she had just killed a man. She needed to focus on Himchan right now. But she couldn’t stop hot tears from spilling from her eyes. This had happened to him because of her. All because of her.

“Himchan, Himchan, can you understand me? I have a potion that will staunch the bleeding,” she choked out through her sobs, “But I don’t think it’ll work on you like this,”

If Himchan had not been stabbed with the knife, there was little reason for him to stop. His instincts urged him to maul -- and consume -- any threats. Anyone who moved, who even slightly encroached the alley was subject to his fangs. Jieun was an exception, though. Rather than feeling the rush to charge at her, he, instead, felt the growing impulse to tear into anyone who so much as looked at her. Glancing at her himself, Himchan felt the desire to murder foes only rise. It was an intrinsic instinct, to protect what was dear to him. So far, he had not been doing an outstanding job.

Lowering his maw to the man again, Himchan intended to chew more flesh from the gangster’s body. He would have, too, if Jieun had not shoved him aside. A low whine reverberated in the back of his throat. His hunger was not yet satiated. A large part of him wanted to continue to clamp down on the gangster, but something, perhaps the humanity left in him, told him to listen and move. Slowly, the wolf sauntered a few steps away, amber orbs focused on the blood dribbling from the dying man.

The itch was so strong. If he could not finish off this man, he wanted to find another to take on. His mind was not in its most logical state, and he did make an attempt to trot away. It was for naught. Not three paces from Jieun did he crumple to the ground, shoulder unable to maintain his weight. With his adrenaline beginning to wear down slowly, Himchan could not ignore the throbbing in his shoulder. At the moment, he was in no shape to sprint off in pursuit of the remaining gangsters. Their best bet was to escape before the rest of the gang came to investigate the noise.

From the ground where he lay, Himchan resorted to simply watching Jieun. His nostrils flared with each inhale, and he salivated at the thick scent of iron. If he had been human in that instant, Himchan most certainly would have been in awe at the pure strength and hatred that flowed through her. It was a side to her he had never witnessed -- nor expected from her. She had always seemed so sweet, and he would had never assumed that she possessed enough gut within her to murder another person. Unfortunately, all Himchan could think about now was his own desire to hunt and protect.

He whined pathetically. When Jieun approached him, he propped himself up on one elbow. Blood oozed from the wound, matting his fur with it. The pain had began to increase the more calm he grew. Less and less was he able to think about hunting, and more and more did he think about the fact that he was injured. A sense of self was returning to him.

A pink tongue lapped at Jieun’s arm. Was it reassurance? While he could understand her words and understood that she felt upset, his sense of applying what he observed into actions and responses was still fuzzy. Again, Himchan licked her, unsure what else to do. He wanted to help, to cheer her up. There was not much he could do in this form. As strong as he was now, he was not human; he was useless

Himchan’s line of sight trailed upwards, to her face. There, he noticed the tears and blood. A small spark of better realization struck him. He willed himself to change back. He never had much control over shifting, though. A simple task such as turning back into a human to reassure Jieun was challenging. Still, he tried, shutting his eyes to try to focus on something other than the pain and the blood.