This was Lara and Hank's third trip around the property, and Lara was almost impressed. She'd never purchased land, never considered owning her own home, but this would be nice. She wouldn't need to keep him stabled at the farm or the equestrian center all the time. It might be nice, to own something. She'd owned very few things over the course of her long life. It was off from a main road, a clearing nestled in some trees. Far enough from town and with plenty of access to the forest, this could be an ideal location. For just a moment, she allowed herself to imagine it: a small cabin, a barn, a yard next to it that would be big enough for Hank to run. At the very least, it would be better than sleeping in the horse trailer, for both of them. She'd even spent a night or two in the cab of the truck, waking up to a disgruntled tapping on her window by a concerned patrol officer.

Clicking her tongue, she allowed him to run, going from trot to canter to gallop. He hadn't been able to let loose nearly as much either of them wanted since their cross-country adventure, and neither had she. Lara had five years of shifts, now, but they didn't get easier, and, without a pack, she'd been trying to be more cautious these last few times. The barn would serve multiple purposes in keeping animals shut up tight, a thought that filled her with more disdain than she cared to admit. Five years of shifts, and she was still not the most comfortable with her species change. She doubted she ever would be. Damien Blake was a bastard in more ways than one. She'd be sure to tell him that, should he be stupid enough to show his face once more, after her last goodbye.

She may have been lost in thought, but Lara was an expert rider; she was constantly aware of her surroundings. So, when someone appeared in front of her horse, she was quick to tug on Hanks reins. He reared, pawing at the air and nearly screaming his own frustration as she shushed him, soothing him to back up and calm down. Her gentleness with the horse did not extend to the young woman before her as she hopped off, patting Hank soothingly before she spoke. "What the fuck are you doing?"

The weather may have been cold, but the sun was still bright and shining in the sky, and Ben liked to work outside whenever he had the chance. That meant that he'd taken up shop on a park bench, essays in his lap as he set about graded, hoping for the best but fearing the worst. Unfortunately, it was that time of year where students were more worried about breaks and finals than they were about one throwaway essay that came about close to the end of the semester. Going over the themes of the last novel they'd read was supposed to be a fairly easy assignment, but it was always interesting to be proven wrong. He rubbed at his eyes and looked away from the papers, catching a glimpse of a familiar face, albeit covered from head to toe in winter wear. "Good afternoon, Rangi!" He called out to the banshee, giving a friendly wave. "You're dressed warm for the weather, I see!"

So it really sucked that the clan's advisor had nearly gotten her heart ripped out. Yeah, she was a bitch to Ronnie almost every time they've met, and she'd kicked her out of her bar more times than Ronnie could count, but that didn't mean Ronnie wanted her to die. Again. Permanently. Whatever. But she was alive, and it seemed like she was going to be fine, and Ronnie was holding onto that tumultuous sense of "nothing's fine but we're gonna pretend like it is!"

The advisor of the clan was attacked and left for dead. She should be dead. Ronnie thought she was one of the meanest, scariest motherfuckers, and they'd somehow jumped her and left her like a fucking present on Meena's doorstep. That didn't make this place seem appealing. In fact, it made Ronnie want to get Daphne and get the fuck out while she could. Instead she'd joined the fucking clan, and she'd moved into a house, and she sort of cared about people. So she needed to forget that they were all fucked, which meant going out.

It was super easy to sneak into Eclipse when the person that usually kicked her out wasn't there, and even easier to score free drinks as long as she told the bartender to keep to the cheap shit she knew was part water anyway. She was working her way towards something, maybe a buzz if she could shmooze someone into mixing in a little blood, and she was chatting and dancing with everyone that she could. She'd just come off the dance floor and headed back to the bar, placing her palms on it. "Hi," she told the bartender. "D'you think I could have another vodka cranberry?" She looked over at the girl sitting there and grinned widely. "And one of whatever she's having, too."