"Present werewolf not enough company for you?"

Her rather cruel smile was withering but he had expected it. He was pretty aware of the fact that she might not give him a proper answer and whatever answer he got would take a while to get out of her. It was reassuring to know that she did at least know who Applewhithe was and that he wouldn’t sit there playing some game while she dangled a carrot.

He watched as her thin form stood upright, the short length of her shirt drawing some of his attention before he quickly turned away to the well used ashtray on the table. He was a gentleman and just because she seemed to be in a prolonged state of vulnerability didn’t mean he’d be as crude or stupid as his male counterparts could be. Slightly surprised by her question since he’d already turned it down once before, he replied a short “yes,” deciding it was better to not argue and to not turn down an offer he might be longing for a little later when they were on their five hundredth round of question and snide response. He barely glanced up at her as she slid past him, leaving his drink on the table. He took his beer in one hand and leaned back in the chair, unbuttoning his jacket with the other, all the while keeping an eye on her so far innocent movements.

"You seriously came to ask me about another werewolf. What'd he do? Bite a friend and turn them into a werewolf? Skip out on a night in the cages?" She scoffed. "Don't you think a curse is enough? Why make it worse by hunting anyone down?"

JT returned her gaze, wondering how long it would take for rationality to sink in…But by the looks of the strewn bottles and cigarette butts, that might be a while.

“I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you,” he replied softly, “havin’ to go in a cage. Feelin’ like you gotta hide from society.  That’d surely mess a person up.” He shook his head, trying to imagine that sort of life. As much as he could tell himself he’d come out the other end looking no worse for wear, it simply wasn’t true. That sort of transformation would change a person not just physically but mentally, and Karina here was the perfect example of it.

He sat up in his chair, placing the half empty bottle on the table. “You ever killed someone?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “In our line of work, it’s tough knowin’ who the enemies are and where to draw the line. I stopped knowin’ for a while where that line was and though I know I didn’t kill anyone who didn’t deserve it, I sometimes have to stop and think if maybe justice could’ve gone another way; that maybe it would’ve been better if they’d gone to trial.” He already felt like he was talking too much since Jack was generally a man of few words but he had to make sure he gave it his all. “It was me or them, but our better judgment gets clouded and we forget to contain ourselves sometimes.”



This ain't no place for the weary kind.