Who: CLOSED When: Conclave, Cocktail hour
Lucas wasn’t stupid. He knew a werewolf-specific job was probably for something shady that he didn’t want to get involved in, but... uprooting his life and road tripping across the country to freak out and procrastinate meeting his only living family was expensive, and he needed the cash. Besides, how bad could it be? He’d thrown on something decent enough to not look like he’d wandered in off the street, cleaned up his appearance, and even got a haircut instead of just doing it himself in a mirror.
Keep to the edges of the room, look vaguely intimidating, and keep an eye out for hunters who might cause trouble and any human that attracts it. Easy money.
Or, it should be. The last person to get on his nerves clearly mistook him for a waiter, snapping their fingers at him and watching him expectantly like he was a dog that was taking too long to learn a new trick, their drink order getting lost and jumbled beneath the sound of the music and the hum of the crowd. He wasn’t above pulling the deaf card to get out of that, cocking his head to the side and tapping his bad ear with a practiced look of regret on his face, the kind that said Oh I’m so sorry, there is nothing I would have wanted more than to hear your drink order instead of Snap at me like a dog again and I’ll take your glass and shove it so far up your—
Deep breath. Whatever. The asshole had wandered off without a fight, thankfully, and he was back to watching the crowd, leaning against the wall. He only spared a glance when someone came to lean on the same wall, taking a break from the crowd. They were on his good side, at least, so he didn't have to turn too much to hear them.
“Sick of it already?” Lucas said, turning his head to the other person to try to get a read on them "Party's only just starting."


















