#cor.open

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." 

This town's a squat, and it burns her up that she can't leave it. Bringing the hammer down on things that go bump in the night is all well and good, truly, but now some fuckery's happened and no one can leave.

That includes her - which is irritating - because Port Leiry is so small change.

But the cold chases people away and means she has this frozen lake all to herself. It is magical, at least, scenic enough, and the ice feels good under her feet, the scrape and glide of something not polished in an arena something she hasn't indulged in in a very long time.

But then it becomes obvious she's not alone - this doesn't bother her; she's found the secret to be alone in the center of an arena full of thousands - in her element, in her mode. She runs over the events of the week in full; hunt bills, warnings, things to look out for; strange things lurking in the icy fog and flurries that have decided to so suddenly plague this city.

Work, work, work - and all she wants to do is play.

So she's playing, sliding across, leaping, challenging herself. She lands a few twisting leaps, tracing flowing lines across the pond's surface before she decides - thirsty - and slides over to the edge of the water, where her compatriot seems to be lingering. She grabs her bag, fishes an insulated thermos free and take a long draught from it, the amber glow from Westriver's pathway lighting casting odd shadows across herself and the frozen pond before she checks her phone on it's little tripod, and stops it recording. "Thought I'd be alone out here."

It was harder being back in Port Leiry than she thought it would be. It was never going to be a breeze, that much she knew, but Lis hadn't been ready for the constant pit in her stomach. She was returning on thin ice with a lot of people, but she had support in place. Annalise had spent months in rehab and therapy, and now that she was back home, she attended weekly appointments.

"Oh, um, we're closing early today, so if you were wanting to head in, you've got about thirty minutes." Lis had been in a world of her own as she put up the sign on the front door, saying the same thing. One thing that she was thankful for was how understanding her new employer was with what she needed. Usually, they could find cover for her, but if they couldn't, they didn't mind the odd time of closing an hour early so that she could make her appointments.

where: outside Inksignia, neutral territory

Digging out the doorway of her studio, along with the walkway when it was snowing with no sign of letting up, was getting frustrating, but she had clients who may still make it in for her appointments, and she'd be damned if they weren't going to get inside her door safely. Thankfully, the dark skies, thanks to the storm, meant she could be outside in the hours she wouldn't usually see.

Thao had shovelled out most of it and put salt and grit down to try to combat the weather when an overhanging tree creaked, and suddenly a heap of snow fell directly on her.

"Motherfucker!" She exclaimed, kicking at the snow and throwing her shovel onto the sidewalk. "Fucking stupid storm, stupid snow, stupid fucking--" Thao stopped, taking a deep breath and pulling a cigarette out from a packet from her pocket.

Shaking the remnants of the snow off herself, she lit up in the doorway and sighed. "Feel like shovelling some snow for me? I'll pay you. Money or services, I don't care which."

"Hey, I wouldn't uh, I wouldn't come in here!"

She can't see who it is who strolled into the doors of her second job, but she can see that it's five minutes til last order and she is definitely going to be late for her closer at the Heron Club.

"Uh, I mean it! Oven's fucked!"

She's not lying. The oven's fucked, its door torn clear off, shredded steal betraying jagged claw marks that are definitely not going to come out of her paycheck if she has anything to say about it.

Something thuds heavy and loud and snarling at the the freezer door behind her back, and Freddie can feel the muscles in her legs tense and buckle as she tries to keep it from pushing the whole thing open.

She doesn't get it, it's not a full moon, so how did this happen? She thought they only turned on full moons?

Why is there a werewolf in the walk-in freezer?

"Fuck!" She grunts out, smoke rising from beneath the hood of the truck, booted foot kicking at the front driver's side tire uselessly as frustration and irritation roil beneath her usually calm demeanor. With the moon soon approaching and the shift in the weather and whatever cosmic powers that control this curse, this was the last thing she needed today. The hairs on her arms and back of her neck bristle with the agitation and she gives the tire another kick.

"Pinche puta…" she grumbles under her breath as she moves to lift the hood, ignoring the heat that pricks at her fingers as she hoists it open only gag and cough at the sudden fog of smoke that invades her lungs. "Son of a bitch!" She gasps out in further irritation as she takes a step back only to nearly slip and catch herself just barely on the front of the vehicle. God she hated this fucking storm.

'Hell has officially frozen over' she can't help to think, finally managing to get the hood propped open and with a few more waves of her hand the smoke has dissipated. Eyes narrow as she looks over the engine like she actually knows what she's looking at. She knows the basics, smoke means your fucked. Fire means you're dead. What was it the yappy one had said about like steam caps or something? Did cars even have steam caps?

His search for a job had led him here, of all places. Elio, of course, knew of markets and stalls from his time overseas and at home, but with nothing to sell there was no reason for him to try and look into stall rentals or anything of the like. No, no, he wanders in deeper towards the office.

Something about a cleaning job, he'd heard or seen. His tongue ached from pressing it tightly to the roof of his mouth out of nerves, and he's barely sure of where he's going.

There are no static and clear thoughts in his mind other than the need for money. So he grabs the first person he sees, grip tight on their arm. "Where is the office? Point me."

He manages not to fully skid off of the shoulder of the road, the emergency brake coming in clutch at the very last second. The engine groans a little as Kevin puts the truck into park before shutting off the engine entirely. Rolling the window down, he sticks his head out the window and can tell that the back wheel is stuck in the mud and there was no way it was getting out without help. His head is mostly drenched when he pulls it back into the cab and he sighs, banging it gently against the headrest.

His phone is open on the center console next to him, Kali's message still flashing brightly across the screen.

"Get off that man's dick and go home."

He had missed the message at first, mostly because he was on the man's dick, but he doesn't really think that extra 90 seconds would have mattered that much in the grand scheme of things. Either way, he and his truck are now both stuck in the rain, and he can already feel his joints reacting to the drop in air pressure. It feels like sandpaper rubbing against his bones, and he leans over to his glove compartment to grab his stash of edibles. He sure as hell wasn't driving anytime soon.

Since he's unable to run the engine, he reaches into the back seat to grab one of the blankets he keeps for Saturn. It's got dog hair all over it, but it smells like her so he wraps it around his shoulder and tries to find a comfortable position in his seat. He sends a couple texts out, to people who might be wondering where he is, but there is a big fat red "!" letting him know that nothing was being delivered. With his battery only at half, he sighs, turning off every app he wasn't using to try and preserve it for as long as possible.

Kevin's not sure if he falls asleep or lets the weed lull him into a comfortable doze, but he jumps when he hears a knock on the driver's seat window. His knee cracks uncomfortably from the movement, and he grunts as he shifts, looking out at the blurry figure in the storm. "I'm fine!" he tries to shout through the window. "It's dry and I can wait it out!"