Thatcher
Rogue Werewolf
Vampire Hunter
Whatever pain may come, today this ends.
Posts: 90
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Post by Thatcher on Sept 2, 2007 0:31:19 GMT
Many would have laughed at the way Thatcher Ward shook his head when he finished towelling off his hair. The irony behind a werewolf performing the motion was lost on the rogue male as he tossed the towel towards the overflowing basket at the side of the bathroom and headed into his bedroom. Raking his fingers through the slightly damp rusty-brown mop on his head before he changed out of the towel — that was hardly appropriate attire for heading out into the city, after all — he checked his reflection in the mirror in the living room only once as he headed out, glancing around for where he had kicked off his footwear earlier that morning.
He had gotten home about three in the morning after ‘work’, and proceeded to shed the toe-capped boots in a fashion not unlike a teenager; he had flipped one off and then the other, the left landing by the sofa and the other under the coffee table. He had dropped into bed not long after that, only changing out of the clothes from the previous night when he had woken up about half an hour ago. The shirt had been pulled off before he’d dropped onto the mattress, and tossed onto the floor. It was a write-off; another write-off, in fact. Thatcher was no stranger to those.
Tugging on his boots, he debated turning on the news to see if there was anything of interest, before reminding himself that full-on cynicism and bad news before breakfast was probably not the best idea. So, with that, he stood, collecting his keys and wallet from the metal tray by the door, the latter pushed into the depths of his back pocket while the former were spun around the index finger of his right hand. The ring on his fourth finger caught the light from the window briefly before he swung the door shut behind him, sparing a glance once up and down the hall before heading for the stairs.
Continued at: Apartment Complex; Parking Garage.
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Thatcher
Rogue Werewolf
Vampire Hunter
Whatever pain may come, today this ends.
Posts: 90
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Post by Thatcher on Jan 21, 2009 0:09:19 GMT
Continued from: Lunacy; Back Alley.
His head was still pounding like — dare he say it? — a bitch by the time he got back to his apartment, all but slamming the door back into its frame as if the barricade had somehow insulted him by being there in the first place, blocking his passage into his own territory and making his already wretched night that much worse. It rattled loudly and the chain swung back and forth noisily against the wood. At least initially, Thatcher ignored it after passing through, not even pausing to lock it behind him, usually an automatic reflex for the werewolf.
All but ripping his jacket off and shedding the holsters and other weaponry pouches and sheaths on his way through to the bathroom, hearing them dully as they thudded to the carpeted floor in his wake, he slapped on the light and crossed right to the mirror, grimacing as he turned his head to see where the undead bitch’s strike had landed. The wound was already healing, knitting itself back together, but that didn’t stop his skull from thundering, or the fact that he’d managed to get blood not only through his hair but down his face. If anyone had gaped at him on his way back from that alley, through the lot where he had parked his car and all the way through the complex to his own residence, he hadn’t noticed, too busy fuming over the outcome of the ‘fight’.
Rooting out a basic first aid kit from under the sink with a faint growl rolling in his throat, Thatcher set the box beside the sink and started methodically going through motions he had undertaken countless times before. Injuries, bloody or otherwise, were just part of his job, and he didn’t shy away from getting dirty, getting wounded, but tonight… it was a matter of principle. The way she had taken him down was just plain insulting. The least she could have done was pistol-whip him or kick him in the head. But no. Clearly she hadn’t wanted to get too close to him. Wise, but still cowardly. Maybe that didn’t make complete sense, but right at that moment, he just didn’t care.
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Amirah
Rogue Werewolf
Bounty Hunter
Sure fatal doses, malcontent through osmosis.
Posts: 53
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Post by Amirah on Nov 25, 2010 0:13:05 GMT
POST TIMESKIP.
Continued from Rayne's Territory; Apartment Complex, Parking Garage.
It wasn't that Amirah didn't understand or respect personal boundaries, she'd had a steep learning curve once she'd started travelling with Richard and remembered clearly how he would adopt that chiding tone of voice when she didn't mind her manners, or reach out gently to remove her hand from someone's throat when she misunderstood their gaze. It was only out of love, she knew, he only wanted her to better acclimatise to the new world around her and he never taught her the way that Marek had taught her. However, she was in a profession that opened up a lot of grey areas. Breaking and entering was low on her list of misdemeanours and she found impatience flaring up through her now. After knocking she paced back and forth across the threshold for a time, hands on her hips. She even announced her presence at one point before deciding he wasn't home. Like that was going to stop her.
There was a lot of commotion around the place but it wasn't much of a problem for her and when she left the building and looped around to the fire access she wasn't spotted by anyone, they were too busy dealing with whatever human problem needed dealing with. Naturally Thatcher's apartment wasn't on the fire escape access and once she was on the right level Amirah cracked her knuckles, swung a leg over the railing and started counting as she skipped along the ledges of the other apartment. Child's play for a werewolf and in the black of the Los Angelean night she was little more than a shadow on the face of the building. When she reached the appropriate window Amirah wormed her fingers into the casement and inched it open a little, she paused and then pushed it up the rest of the way and slid inside, turning on her toes and letting the casement shut with a soft bump. Silently she turned to scan the room she found herself in, pursing her bee-stung lips as her eyes adjusted to the new level of darkness and the ambient sounds of the building.
It was his bedroom window she had slipped in through and she spent a few moments poking around curiously before she moved into the main body of the apartment, hands on her hips as she surveyed his home It was odd to her to see this sort of permanence, she was used to living in hotels as a rule; they provided easy access and exits which were often essential to her work. Amirah had never thought about settling anywhere, with any kind of territory of her own. Marek would only come and take it away from her. A thin growl trembled through her jaw.
Leaving the light off she moved into his kitchen where she unbuckled her bodice and set about cleaning the blood off of it at the sink with a huff. It was nigh on invisible against the maroon leather but she liked to keep it in good condition. Full body leather suits weren't exactly easy to have fitted, and this was like a second skin to her, her armour on the battlefield, it received as much attention as any of her knives did. Tension was easing out of her body with the therapeutic motion of rinsing off the smears of the action in the wetlands earlier that night; she tried to think ahead to how she would broach the topic of her family with Thatcher. Asking him outright might be the best way to go about it, he was a direct sort of man from what she recalled and she trusted her memory in this instance, but perhaps he wouldn't be interested into walking into this blind. Amirah began sorting out details and facts, things she could tell him to give him a sense of what she needed but removing the emotional connections from the equation. In the end of the day a conversation with Thatcher Ward was never a predictable thing and she didn't know why she was wasting her energy.
When she was satisfied that her leather was as clean as possible she helped herself to the refrigerator, finding a stack of ham slices in a paper bag and a bottle of milk all of which she took to the table at which she assumed he ate his meals, considering its position to as not to expose his back to any kind of threat. Smart wolf, she thought as she sat down in the chair with the spoils of her kitchen raid and inched her gloves off of her fingers so that she could eat without spoiling the leather there either. Now the only thing to do was wait.
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Thatcher
Rogue Werewolf
Vampire Hunter
Whatever pain may come, today this ends.
Posts: 90
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Post by Thatcher on Mar 21, 2011 17:01:35 GMT
CONTINUED FROM: Alleys and Streets; Back Alleys.
The trek back to his building from the labyrinthine alley network where he had fought with the vampires and crossed paths with the human woman was anything but comfortable, the adrenaline was well and truly wearing thin and the bruises and aches were wasting no time in making themselves known. His head was thumping steadily and his mood seemed to worsen with each step he took closer to what he called home. Normally killing vampires helped with his temper and how close to the surface it clawed but tonight was different, he was on edge and didn't know why; perhaps the encounter with the mortal hunter had somehow riled him but he couldn't even really speculate. It bothered him, that ignorance, and as he pushed his way into the building, all but grumbling and growling to himself under his breath, he felt the aggression and the feral displeasure of the wolf simmering inside. His hunting for the night was done, the vampires he had fought with had left him with enough bruises and pains to see to that but he couldn't help but want to go out again after cleaning himself up. Denying himself such things was never easy.
Avoiding the elevator as usual he climbed the steps almost on autopilot, one foot in front of the other as he replayed the fight in his mind, analysing this move and that reaction to see what could be improved upon. The human had been an unexpected complication really and maybe if he ever saw again he would tell her as much but they had both come out alive and maybe that was what really mattered at the end of the day.
Shoving his way through the stairwell door leading onto his floor he huffed out a dissatisfied sort of sigh and fished his keys from his pocket. Several steps from the door itself he paused and stood frozen on the spot taking in a breath that his heightened senses was quick to pick apart and analyse. A heavy kind of familiarity kept him standing on the spot until his memory engaged and told him why he recognised that weight in the air, that distinct scent. Thatcher sighed again, heavier this time, and spared a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. It was the last thing he needed, yet another unexpected complication, perhaps even a downright nuisance -- or better yet a pain in the ass -- but there was no avoiding it now. If he was reading the scent right then she hadn't simply come and gone. It wasn't going to be that easy.
At least the door was still intact.
Turning the key in the lock and twisting the handle to let himself inside, Thatcher paused once over the threshold but only for a moment, not even tossing his keys aside or shrugging off his jacket but instead walking quietly towards where the entryway met the apartment proper. As soon as he got that far he had no trouble picking her out. She hadn't changed. It had been a long time since they had last crossed paths but there was no mistaking that leather or the mane of blonde hair, the strong but feminine angles and the confident readiness in her body. Amirah Novak was just the same as he remembered.
"Let yourself in why don't you," he rumbled by way of greeting.
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Amirah
Rogue Werewolf
Bounty Hunter
Sure fatal doses, malcontent through osmosis.
Posts: 53
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Post by Amirah on Mar 21, 2011 17:25:12 GMT
When Thatcher entered his apartment Amirah simply looked up from the slice of ham she was tearing in half. There was no point in getting up, it was to show that she was comfortable sitting in his territory and she wouldn't be intimidated out the door, things that he knew but that her wolfen instincts backed up with stoic inaction. Amirah raised an eyebrow, taking in his general appearance and the scent of death on his clothes; Thatcher, it seemed, had been doing battle with vampires earlier that night and by the looks of him he'd had at least a fraction of the damage done to the un-dead bastards visited back on him. Apart from that he looked exactly as she remembered him, the same angry slant to his jaw, the same hard eyes; even the slope of his shoulders looked the same, the way he walked and talked. That was reassuring in a way; Amirah knew he wasn't exactly happy to see her, frankly no one was ever happy to see her because she almost always brought trouble in her wake, but the fact that the years had not altered him gave her a sense of familiarity she hadn't been expecting, and perhaps even comfort she hadn't been looking for.
"I left the door on the hinges this time," she said, unknowingly echoing his thoughts from moments before. Most of the time Amirah just bludgeoned her way through people, places and things to get what she wanted and it was a small sign of respect when she didn't actively damage, break or outright destroy something that she easily could have and that doing so would have made things easier for her.
Sighing she picked up the milk carton and shook it. "You are out of milk, however."
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Thatcher
Rogue Werewolf
Vampire Hunter
Whatever pain may come, today this ends.
Posts: 90
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Post by Thatcher on Mar 22, 2011 0:33:50 GMT
For several moments Thatcher stood exactly where he'd decided to stop with his eyes fixed on Amirah as she sat as comfortably and casually as someone who belonged. That was Amirah to the core, she belonged anywhere she decided to belong and no one would change her mind, she was in control of what she did and said at all times and no one could change that either. With yet another ragged sigh he tossed his keys onto a small sideboard where they clattered loudly and began tugging off his jacket with more force than was really necessary. "Great," he grumbled irritably once his arms were fully free and then the jacket was dumped on the floor.
"What did you break?" he asked her with an almost confrontational air as he moved past her and into the kitchen, yanking open the fridge hard enough to make the bottles in the door rattle. There was nothing inside that he wanted but he needed water so one of the bottles was pulled out and the cap twisted off in one go. The cap was thrown to the side where it bounced across the counter and half of the bottle was drunk down without a pause. The bottle was still in his hand when he strode with a predator's air back into the main room, eyes dark with frustration landing on his unexpected visitor. It was all he could do to keep from pacing, the wolf inside of him feeling challenged by Amirah's bold entrance to his home and territory.
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Amirah
Rogue Werewolf
Bounty Hunter
Sure fatal doses, malcontent through osmosis.
Posts: 53
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Post by Amirah on Mar 23, 2011 15:06:54 GMT
"I'm offended," Amirah stated, watching him prowl angrily past her and into the kitchen. "I have not broken anything."
Apparently her timing had been less than stellar for this little visit; she had known that she would likely find him in a sour mood, but Thatcher was always in a sour mood from what she recalled, going back three or four decades in her memories, however long it had actually been since they'd crossed paths. Still there was no time to walk on eggshells around him because he was having a bad night. There was a time limit on what she needed to do and this could be her best chance to actually make some headway with one of her siblings. Here in Los Angeles, away from his personal guards and state of the art defences Mr. Oshiro would be vulnerable, he wouldn't see Amirah coming at him out of left field and maybe, just maybe, if she could get Surayya far enough away for long enough she could break through the mental shackles that kept her oldest sister a slave to her vampire master. To Marek. Amirah very nearly growled at the thought of him, managing to bite down on her own tongue quickly enough so that Thatcher wouldn't find the sound an excuse to start throwing punches. Or furniture.
Shaking it off she stood, and raised her eyebrows at him and he came back in from the kitchen. Her hands went to sit characteristically on her hips, fingers over her abdomen, her thumbs pressed into the small of her back. "What happened to you?" she asked bluntly. "You stink of vampire." And blood. And human too, but that wasn't so unusual.
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Thatcher
Rogue Werewolf
Vampire Hunter
Whatever pain may come, today this ends.
Posts: 90
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Post by Thatcher on Mar 23, 2011 16:41:24 GMT
Thatcher was always in a sour mood or at least close to one. It had been a long time since he had laughed without sarcasm or bitter resentment behind a sound that should have been light and mirthful and Thatcher almost couldn't remember how that felt. He was entitled to his anger and restless sort of frustration though he thought and so he made absolutely no attempt to cast aside the heavy grey clouds that seemed to dog his steps every second of every day. Some people just weren't supposed to be happy. That was something Thatcher had come to learn -- no matter how unfairly and violently the lesson had been forced upon him -- and he had long since come to term with the fact that he was one of those who wasn't destined for good things in life. The cards had been dealt and he had to play his hand just like everyone else.
"What do you think happened to me?" he asked her with an irate kind of bluntness in his voice, his eyes meeting hers with a low huff of hollow amusement. "I went hunting, fought some vampires, killed some vampires and now I'm covered in ash and god knows what else." He had been hoping to grab a shower the second he walked in the door but Amirah's presence had changed things. Of course Thatcher could just shut the bathroom door on her and shower anyway, it was his apartment and he could do what he liked after all, but he wanted to know what she was doing here, why she had let herself into his place without even announcing her presence in Los Angeles first. "I know it's been a while since we last saw each other but don't tell me you've forgotten how this works."
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Amirah
Rogue Werewolf
Bounty Hunter
Sure fatal doses, malcontent through osmosis.
Posts: 53
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Post by Amirah on Mar 25, 2011 20:05:53 GMT
Amirah shared the restless frustration and even the anger at times, but she was different in that she saw a vry faint, very distant light at the end of the tunnel. Even after the centuries she had spent endlessly toiling away at her goals she believed that one day she would be done; one day she would have succeeded, her siblings would be free, her children would live without shackles and without vampires, there would be no masters for them. At least that was what she clung to on good days; on the bad days she was more inclined to believe that she would end up dead somewhere and she'd be better off for it. Those days never saw the light of day, however; as far as anyone in the world knew she was a literal blood-hound. If she took a bounty there was no escape, no running or hiding because Amirah Novak always caught up with you, she always got her way. That was the person she liked being, that was the armour she liked wearing, to keep the world and everyone in it away. No weaknesses. No ties. It was such a big lie she was sometimes amazed that it still held tight.
"That is not what I meant," Amirah said, but failed to elaborate further. Instead she looked Thatcher up and down, fixing her gaze on him and shifting her weight onto her right leg. "You can shower," she added after a long moment. "I'll wait." At that she turned away, green eyes roving over the dim apartment again as she plucked up her gloves from the table and started to work her fingers into them.
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Thatcher
Rogue Werewolf
Vampire Hunter
Whatever pain may come, today this ends.
Posts: 90
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Post by Thatcher on Mar 25, 2011 21:03:01 GMT
Her words were met with an annoyed glare but he didn't see fit to respond. It was probably for the best that he didn't especially given his mood; it would only lead to a fight and when it came to Amirah there was no telling whether it would be simply verbal or physical and it could easily and quickly escalate to that level. He did throw her a sarcastic kind of expression when she mentioned a shower. "Oh, thank you," he grumbled, setting the water down on the table and looking her way. "You could always go buy me some more milk while I'm in there."
With that he turned away himself and headed for the bathroom, tugging his t-shirt off over his head as he went and tossing it onto the bedroom floor on his way past. He shut the door with a forceful nudge of his boot that made it slam a little more than was necessary and he wasted no time in turning on the water. Perhaps he would feel better after he washed the stink of vampire away. There was no telling really and it was entirely possible he would be in just as sour a mood when he was done. If that was the case then there was every possibility he and Amirah would come to blows in the not too distant future.
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Amirah
Rogue Werewolf
Bounty Hunter
Sure fatal doses, malcontent through osmosis.
Posts: 53
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Post by Amirah on Mar 25, 2011 22:05:10 GMT
Regardless of his obviously dark mood Amirah wouldn't hesitate to bite back if they started going down that road, Thatcher was smart enough to know that and he knew Amirah well enough to know that she wouldn't back away from an altercation whether physical or verbal. What he didn't know was that because she was there to ask for a favour she wasn't actually as inclined to be as harsh as she might have usually been. Even Amirah understood that getting what she wanted couldn't always come through intimidation and torture; intimidation wouldn't work on Thatcher, she knew he wasn't scared by her, and she wasn’t going to torture him into helping her, that would defeat the object entirely. Still she didn't know how she was going to approach this at all. Amirah had never asked for a favour in her life, she didn't know how to request someone's help. It felt like admitting defeat, admitting weakness and acknowledging that she was backed into a corner. Trapped. Amirah hated to feel trapped.
While he was showering she wandered over to the window, trying to use the time to think about how she was going to go about this. In the end maybe it was a redundant train of thought; there was no predicting what Thatcher would do or say at the best of times, let alone after he'd had, what she guessed, was a rough night. Trying to figure out how he would react to this or that was idiotic. Amirah reached her gloves fingers to her leather collar and tugged it unnecessarily; she didn't have nervous ticks because she didn't get nervous all the often but that motion would probably qualify as one were it ever to see the light of day. She took a long, low breath, staring out his window at Los Angeles.
Surayya would be out there soon. So close by, the closest any of her siblings had been in years.
For a moment Amirah felt like she couldn't breathe. It was an almost crushing pressure, the thought of getting the oldest of the Novaks on her side, the need to be victorious this time, just this one time. The she-wolf bowed her head and closed her eyes. If she was the praying sort she would have taken that silent moment to do so.
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Thatcher
Rogue Werewolf
Vampire Hunter
Whatever pain may come, today this ends.
Posts: 90
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Post by Thatcher on Mar 25, 2011 23:48:56 GMT
Intimidation played a big part in their respective lines of work but one of the reasons they had been butting heads for so long was because intimidation didn't work on either of them. That left them at a sort of stalemate and they were both incredibly stubborn and determined individuals, they liked to get their way and winning meant a great deal to them. When they were together things had a tendency to get heated and Thatcher remembered very well how often they had clashed in the past. Violence played a big part in their lives and they weren't above unleashing that aggression on one another; they didn't pull any punches either. They didn't take anything lightly and really when they were together things were usually volatile to say the least. Any disagreement or tension between them was like pouring fuel on an already raging fire.
The hot water washed away a little of his sour mood but not nearly enough to make a difference in the long run. With his hands against the tiled wall in front of him he held his head bowed over underneath the powerful flow to let the ash and blood wash away down the drain in a slow and steady spiral. Thatcher had long since lost count of the number of times he had done this very same thing, come home from a night of violence and bloodshed and tried to wash it all away. It never washed away though and he knew that but it didn't stop him trying. That was Thatcher to the core, really. He never stopped trying. No matter how futile it was he just kept trying, time and time again; it didn't matter how much he got hurt in the process, how much blood he lost or how many new scars he earned, it was the trying that kept him going. If he didn't have this fight, this ongoing and vicious fight that he just couldn't win then what did he have? Nothing. He had memories and misery and regrets and loneliness and that wasn't a life at all. No matter how insurmountable the odds, no matter how impossible the victory, Thatcher had to keep trying.
Only when the water ran clearly down the drain and he felt a little more clear-headed did Thatcher turn off the shower and towel himself dry enough to dig some passable clothes out of his laundry bin. The shirt was creased but it was in much better condition than the one he had tugged off and thrown aside. Thatcher disposed of more clothes in a month than most people did in the space of a year but it meant nothing to him. Clothes were clothes, practical and disposable. When he stepped out into the main body of the apartment again his hair was still damp but he looked much better than he had going in. "Why are you here, Mirah?" he asked, crossing to the kitchen again to pull a glass from the cabinet which he went on to fill with a generous measure of scotch.
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Amirah
Rogue Werewolf
Bounty Hunter
Sure fatal doses, malcontent through osmosis.
Posts: 53
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Post by Amirah on Mar 26, 2011 0:09:23 GMT
Though it was hard to keep track for people like them Amirah was certain she had a couple of scars thanks to altercations she'd had with Thatcher in the past. As a direct result of her skewed sense of proprietary though she didn't see anything all the wrong with walking into his home in light of their past meetings; Amirah didn't actively hate or dislike Thatcher so she saw no reason not to walk right up to him when she was in town and say hello, even if a simple hello could end in one or both of them bleeding, yelling or nursing broken bones. There was just no way to tell what would happen. At the end of the day they both spent their lives fighting in one way or another and that didn't change when they encountered one another; there was no holding back in any respect and in a strange way that was part of what Amirah respected about the vampire hunter.
Amirah turned when he came out of the shower, her hands on her hips again. Then he asked the poignant question and she let the silence stretch for several long moments, pursing her lips and stepping away from the window.
"I need a favour." There it was. It was out there now and she couldn't take it back.
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Thatcher
Rogue Werewolf
Vampire Hunter
Whatever pain may come, today this ends.
Posts: 90
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Post by Thatcher on Mar 26, 2011 2:15:33 GMT
Coming to stand in the doorway between the main living area and the kitchen Thatcher rested lightly against the door frame, at least looking a little less tightly wound after the shower. The glass in his hand turned gently this way and that with the dark liquid sloshing lazily inside as his gaze remained focused on Amirah and her slow progress across the room. When she spoke he didn't respond right away and instead considered her at length, the silence stretching once again. There was a weight in his gaze, something almost scrutinising and he didn't address the matter lightly or flippantly when he chose to speak.
"What kind of favour?" It was a simple enough response and perhaps even predictable really but Thatcher wanted to know what he was getting into, especially when Amirah was involved. There was no telling what kind of trouble she had lined up and while Thatcher loved a good adrenaline rush as much as the next wolf he also liked to know the risks. There was something about the way she held herself, there was a tension the likes of which he hadn't seen before and while it made him curious it also concerned him. Amirah wasn't the type to get nervous or tense and she also wasn't the type to ask favours. The question was: how much would she tell him?
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Amirah
Rogue Werewolf
Bounty Hunter
Sure fatal doses, malcontent through osmosis.
Posts: 53
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Post by Amirah on Mar 26, 2011 15:01:58 GMT
Words stuck in her throat like she was chewing down raw metal or glass. Amirah didn't say two words to people most of the time, she was a stoic and silent woman and now on top of having to use words she had never used before she needed to explain herself, she needed to construct words into some kind of cohesive order to make Thatcher understand what she needed from him. It made her skin feel weird, hot and itchy like ants crawling all over her. Unfamiliar territory wasn't new to her in the physical sense but this? Amirah was so far out of her depth it showed in the scowl her features had adopted as she watched the male wolf, waiting for him to speak. When he finally did she had to swallow down nails, a rusty taste on the back of her tongue.
"Someone will be in this city very soon, someone that I need to find." Desperately. Amirah tried to keep the edge out of her voice; she respected Thatcher but she didn't want to lay all her cards on the table. To lessen the stress in her voice she boiled everything down to the bare minimum of information, the bones of the task at hand. "I haven't been in Los Angeles for years. I will not have enough time to familiarise myself with the city and the supernatural factions before the target is here." Amirah shook her hair back from her face, coming to a stop halfway into the room and huffing a deep sigh, fixing her hard green eyes on Thatcher. "I could pay off some rogue to do the job, but this is important and I need someone I can trust." An unasked question hung in the air after her words: Are you someone I can trust?
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