Scum of the City {JULIAN & ANYONE}

[Trisha Morello]

Trisha never really liked the subway. It was dark, dirty and smelly. People were too close to each other and there was no room for personal space - the personal space that Trisha clung to so tightly. Instead, people were forced to touch elbows with her and it made her skin crawl. She hated the cramped feeling, the feeling of being trapped against bodies. But the subway really was the quickest and cheapest way of getting around the city. Trisha was still having trouble getting her bearings and the city was incredibly overwhelming so getting out into the city, being forced to use the mass transportation was helping her get adjusted.

She cringed as more people filtered into the subway car and she cursed under her breath as she was forced to move, pushing herself against the metal of the railing at the end of one of the long benches. There was no room to sit so she was forced to grip onto the railing to keep steady as the train jolted forward. The smell of unwashed bodies wafted to her nose and she cursed her new found heightened senses. Her sense of smell was stronger than ever and at times, well, most of the time, it was just a hassle. She would prefer not to have to smell the stench of these people as they crammed closer and closer to her.

Finally, it was her stop and she shoved passed people ruthlessly, ignoring the few cries of complaints. She moved along the platform with haste and ignored the pleas of a homeless man begging for change. He grabbed at her leg and she nearly tripped. Turning around with a face full of anger, she glared down at the man. He cowered slightly as he held out his nearly empty cup.

"What?" she hissed. "You looking for some money?" Trisha growled. "Get off your ass and find a damn job." The man started to mumble a few excuses and Trisha kicked the styrofoam cup from his hands and the change went flying in all directions. She heard a few people click their teeth in disapproval and she turned on them as well. "You got something to say, huh?!" She turned to one man who was staring at her with wide eyes. "How about you, hm? You wanna tell me how I'm being unfair? Fuck off!" she spat out. Trisha didn't have time to pity a homeless man when she herself was homeless only days ago. She'd been in the gutter and no one stopped to give her money. The treatment was only fair.

And she got stuck with some snotty jock who offered her his apartment. Things could be worse... but she always failed to see it that way. She was a glass half empty type of person. Other people's misfortunes could never measure up to her own.

[Julian McAllister]

My, my. Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.

Peeking over the heads of a relatively large crowd blocking his steps to the door to the exit hall, the tall gentleman had no trouble viewing the disturbance from his distant position, only feet from the train that he had stepped out of. He gripped a messenger bag in one hand, the strap having slipped off of his shoulder in the crowd, but with only a book, his mp3 player and a change of clothes in it, it was not heavy baggage, and he held it easily, leisurely, even as the woman on the platform began to yell, froth and fume to those around her. It was a fascinatingly curious sight, the way that this small woman stood in the shadow of the towering support pillars and the mostly taller people making up the crowd that practically surrounded her. Showing no fear, no worry of redemption or judgment, no concern for the bruised hand of the homeless gentleman at her feet, she glared into all of the sets of eyes that had fallen to her, daring someone to stand up and be the voice of calmness or reason.

But there would be none. Or at least, Julian was not interested in standing there and waiting for one. Still dressed in the light blue coveralls that acted as his work clothes, he’d just spent all day and most of the night standing around, he had little desire to do more of the same. Still, polite and friendly as always, he gave the crowd of people plenty of time to get their fill of angry staring before finally beginning to shuffle passed them. He was the first to move since the woman’s first outburst, the rest of the figures almost frozen with what had to be disdain. But he declined to examine any of them.

No, blue eyes settled curiously on the only person who did not step out of his way- the frothing young woman. She was standing in a bit of a circular clearing that had formed with the crowd, and suddenly, he found himself sharing the make-shift spotlight with her as he exited the crowd on his way to the door. As he paused casually, practically mid-stride of one of his long, lengthy steps, a flash of dark blue caught his eye across the tracks, and he turned his head slightly to watch two police officers disappear up a set of stairs. They’d come out on this side, he knew without having to read the signs or various directional arrows and, making an assumption, he leaned toward the stranger at the crowd’s center. He had to speak a little louder than was comfortable for him, as a nearby train rumbled and began to pull off.

“Now now, let’s not have to explain this to the police, shall we?”

Offering his most pleasant smile, he straightened himself with a slight nod of his head toward the door. An invitation, though his gaze remained on the far stairs wearily.

“This way. That is unless the purpose of your outburst was to be arrested for assault.”

[Trisha Morello]

Turning her head back to the whimpering homeless man, Trisha hissed another insult. "You're fucking pathetic." The poor man's eyes widened as he looked up at the woman. Despite her small frame, she seemed so large even though, when standing, he was a man of over six feet. But she formed a massive shadow around him as she glared down at him, her eyes dead and cold. There would be no mercy in those dark brown pools of bitterness. He was on the verge of tears before someone stepped forward. Finally, someone from the large crowd that had formed came forward and said something to the woman.

Trisha turned on her heel, looking up at the tall man as he mentioned the police. A snarl formed on her lips. His tone was amiable with a hint of warning. He even had the gall to smile at her pleasantly. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she watched him. Trisha had never been arrested, but she'd gotten herself into a few close calls before. And she had no intention of running across the entire city to get away from the police. But would they really care? Would they really care about the welfare of one homeless man? As she turned her head to look in the direction of the man's eyes, she saw a pair of blue shirts talking to a woman. The slender woman pointed toward Trisha and the look one the woman's face was one of vindication.

Growling, Trisha took the man's invitation and went through the door he had nodded to. Sighing, she turned to him.

"You got a name, superman?" she grilled, heatedly. Trisha didn't like admitting defeat, so she wasn't going to count this as a loss. But she also didn't like taking advice. But what were her options? She could go against the police and probably get beaten to the ground. They she might have lost control. She couldn't let herself think about that though - about the monster turning inside her. Only months ago she was just a normal girl.. now she was a beast and a bitter woman who hated the world. Funny how much things can change.

[Julian McAllister]

Julian followed the smaller form out into the hallway that lead to the city streets high above them on the surface, the walls lined with green tiles and a silver railing snaking its way down the center to separate those coming from those going. Of course, no one seemed to be heeding its warning, but the crowd here was smaller, hardly a crowd at all, and the hall remained largely open and empty despite their presence on both sides. Advertisements for local establishments could be read easily on the wall, only slightly obscured by the occasional bum standing in front of them. They seemed to eye the pair- or more likely just the female of the two, restlessly as they wandered away from the platforms toward the streets.

Something about their completely justified nervousness amused the fledgling werewolf and Julian had to nibble on his lower lip to keep from laughing aloud at the sight of grown men cowering like that before a mere girl. She'd been pretty scary back on the platform, toward one of their own kind no less, a fellow bum. He wasn't sure if bums felt a sense of comradery or companionship. After all, none of the other homeless folks in the station seemed to stand up and defend the beggar on the floor. Still, something about seeing their companion attacked like that, especially in this day and age where feral dogs and beasts seemed to roam the night and strike down victims without warning, struck a noticeable fear in them. It sat in the air like a cloud of cigar smoke- heavy, formless. Rubbing his nose subconsciously with his free hand, blue-green eyes peered over to his side when a familiar voice, laced still with a fiery rage fit to make a boxer flinch, rang out among the tiled halls. Though she seemed irritated, her much taller companion looked down at her with the same pleasant grin as before, as though he had yet to notice her rage. He paused to shift his messenger bag to the opposite shoulder before responding casually, straightening the bottom of his shirt, which had gathered in the elastic of his cargo pants.

"Superman? Huh. That's a new one I've never been called before."

He mused, more to himself than the stranger walking beside him, almost distracted by the nickname for some unseen reason, looking down at his hands in silent thought. It stroked his ego a bit to be thought of as a super hero. Not that he believed it of course, this woman hardly needed his saving. The police would have likely simply swatted her hand and told her to leave bums alone, but she seemed like the type of person to swing at a police officer if given the chance so maybe he had saved the day. He couldn't decide.

"Well yes, I have a name. But it hardly matters, no one ever seems to use it. Everyone seems to take to calling me Junior instead. Julian seems to belong to my father."

He paused, looking over, considering extending his hand in greeting but finding the gesture archaic and almost out of place. Also, something told him she'd likely grab the extended limb and bite it or something dark and sinister like that so, he kept his hands to himself for the moment, watching her curiously.

"And now it's your turn."

[Trisha Morello]

Trisha moved through the dark tunnel, keen on avoiding the eyes of the other bums around her. She didn't need to see their frightened faces. She didn't need that kind of guilt weighing down on her. The last thing she needed was to be kept up at night because she lost it on some homeless guy who was simply asking for some spare change... but she probably would end up thinking about him and regretting her actions. Do first. Think later, right? That's the way it went.

She moved along the tunnel and soon she was climbing the stairs to the surface of the city. The high noon sun caught her eyes and she cringed in reaction. She shielded her eyes as she turned to look at the man. He rambled on about a name when a simple one word answer would have sufficed. She raised an eyebrow at him and she almost cut him off but she bit her tongue instead.

When he said it was her turn, Trisha almost told him her name was none of his business. But she figured... maybe it was time she started making friends in this city. The more contacts she had, the more of an upper hand she possessed.

"Trisha," she said plainly, eying Junior up and down. She didn't really think the name Junior fit him. She preferred Julian. "Listen, Julian, how about you buy me a drink." Maybe friendship wasn't really on her mind. Maybe if she got him drunk, she could mug him later. Hey, best to keep her options open, right?

[Julian McAllister]

Julian spied the woman's odd look at him and found her scrutinizing gaze somewhat uncomfortable. Even in the light of the sun that shown down on them as they exited the subway and stepped onto the crowded New York City streets, they seemed so dark and brooding, like a patch of pure shadow in the middle of a sunny day. It was out of place and his brows knotted together thoughtfully. Though he supposed a considerate glance like that was her deciding whether or not to skewer him. She seemed to choose otherwise, changing the subject from names.

"Buy you a drink?"

He repeated, slightly surprised but not lacking any in his cheerful amusement. He hadn't been expecting the otherwise violent Trisha to suddenly up and invite him to accompany her out, not because he expected a lack of gregariousness from people. Possessing a lot of it himself, he sort of expected it, but not out of people like her. Then again, they'd met only minutes ago, perhaps there was more to the little lady than a fight with a homeless man could show. After a short pause, Julian nodded.

"What am I going to say? No? That would be awfully rude of me."

He shrugged casually, shifting his weight to start walking down the sidewalk in a particular direction, gesturing with one hand to indicate to his companion where they were going. Relatively, anyway. Forever a well-mannered gentleman, Julian knew better than to choose a location without first consulting his cohorts, regardless of how long (or not long, in this case) he had known them. But there was a small crowd, likely the one from before, following their lead up the stairs and standing in the subway entrance would only wreak havoc on the flow of pedestrians, so a direction had to be chosen. Fortunately, downtown was a relatively crowded, heavily populated area with loads of dining and bar options to choose from, no matter what direction one wanders in.

"Come. I know of an excellent little place that shouldn't be too crowded in the middle of the day. Serves every brand of alcohol I've ever heard of, and one of the cooks there makes a fantastic oreo cookie cake. You have not lived until you've tried it. It's got whole cookies in it."

The fledgling werewolf rambled slightly as he made his way down the cement walkway that lined the road, gesturing with his hands as he went. Not for any reason this time, he simply had some energy to disperse, speaking about desserts like a distracted five year old.

"And balls of fried macaroni and cheese. Not in the cake obviously, it's a separate meal that they make but it's sinfully delicious. Bit of a heart attack on a plate, I'm sure it's super bad for you, fried macaroni so I should probably be keeping this a secret honestly. But..."

He trailed off, raising his hands in the air in some sort of nonchalant surrender.

[Trisha Morello]

He had a strange way of saying things and she couldn't quite tell if it was due to nervousness or if he was just... weird. Either way, she wasn't going to turn down some free drinks. If there was one thing Trisha couldn't say no to, it was a free drink. Well... actually, she did say no to that before and it really didn't end in her favor. Or maybe it did. It was hard to tell really. She got a free apartment out of it, didn't she? She walked along with him, dodging people as she did so. Being a small woman, it was easy for people to overlook her, especially on the busy streets of New York.

He kept talking and Trisha felt her nerves rising. She didn't like people who talked too much. If there was talking to be done, she would do it and it would often be strewn with curse words. He talked about the food that the bar offered, but really, she wasn't interested in the food there. She could care less about the cake or the mac and cheese. All she cared about were the drinks. And if he said that they had all types of alcohol, then Trisha was happy.

He led her to a sports bar and she went inside, not caring to ask the hostess for the direction of the bar. It was like she already knew where it would be, like her nose had sniffed it out. She made it to the bar and took a seat, looking back to Julian and nodding her head at him to join her. he motioned for the bartender.

"2 shots of tequila," she ordered. She didn't bother asking him if that's what he liked. Who didn't like tequila? "So what do you do for a living, Julian?" she asked as the tender handed them their drinks. She took the glass before downing it quickly. She motioned for the bartender to make her another one.

[Julian McAllister]

Julian followed his companion's lead once they reached the bar, weaving his way easily through the small group of people gathered near the door. The rest of the establishment was largely empty, which made it easy for the pair to find a pair of stools at the counter that were not taken or crowded or anything of that nature. The sports bar was a pretty small, quiet place with tv's mounted on the dark wood paneled walls and rock music playing softly over the speakers mounted in the ceiling, creating a sort of humming level of background noise just enough to be interesting but not enough to be distracting or difficult to talk over. Dropping his bag to the floor, Julian offered the bartender a quiet nod of his head in greeting and the warm smile he'd been wearing since the train station, but quickly redirected it back toward Trisha, who ordered them some drinks and struck up some casual conversation. Though he took the glass that was extended to him, the taller of the shapeshifters had no intention of drinking any of it. A bad run with alcohol in college has since made him quite weary of the substance.

He gave the room a quick once over, before returning bright eyes to the face of his companion in silent acknowledgement of her question. Forever talkative, he did not stay silent for long.

"I eat cake and fried macaroni." He started jokingly, laughing at himself a little bit before schooling himself. "No, seriously though, if one can even call this a living- I work as a custodian in Uptown. Pays the bills and all of that, but it's hardly a career that I intend to keep."

He pointedly fussed with the collar of the shirt he was wearing beneath his coveralls, which were a little too large for his otherwise lean and lanky figure, and used the movement as a non-verbal distraction while his attention returned to the bartender briefly. He cheerfully asked her for an order of that fried macaroni he'd been talking about earlier, shamelessly famished after a long shift at work, before straightening and returning to the conversation he was having with the stranger from the train station casually. Resting an elbow on the surface of the bar, he turned sideways to face her, sitting slouched in his stool, an unasked question tugging at his features.

"What about you? It seems I've been doing enough talking for the both of us, but you haven't told me anything about yourself. Do you often take the train downtown to invite strangers out to lunch, or am I something of a special occasion?"

That had been bugging him since they left the train station together. Julian was a friendly guy and was used to spending time out with both strangers and friends alike, and did not mind the prospect in the least bit, his questioning the situation light and good-humored. However, it was usually by his invitation that strangers were dragged along to unplanned social gatherings. He had not been expecting the seemingly violent and anti-social Trisha to invite him anywhere, and found himself slightly swamped with honest curiosity. With one arm still resting on the dark green countertop, he fidgeted mindlessly, using his free hand to casually swirl the drink around in his glass.

[Trisha Morello]

Trisha didn't turn her head in acknowledgment as he talked to her. From the corner of her eye, she could see that he didn't bother drinking the beverage despite taking it in his hand. She couldn't help but wonder why he agreed to come with her if he had no intention of drinking. Was he curious? Or was he just as lonely as she was? Trisha really wasn't one for companionship. She avoided it at all costs despite the nature of pack behavior sometimes driving her toward social settings. She chose to be alone. It wasn't by default. She liked not having to worry about mindless conversation or whether or not the person she was with liked her. She really didn't care. At least that's what she told herself.

So he was a janitor? Trisha crinkled her nose slightly at the thought. She couldn't imagine such a profession. Could it even be called a profession? The bartender refilled her shot glass and she downed it just as quickly as the first. A shiver ran through her and she coughed once as the harsh liquid ran down her throat. She used to hate alcohol, but now it was a welcomed friend.

He asked her a few questions and Trisha was at a loss for answers. No. She didn't often invite strangers out to drinks. So why did she insist on him following her? She told herself it was for the free drinks, and while that was partly true, there was another... darker reason. One she refused to acknowledge. The loneliness of isolation. So she shrugged.

"Not usually..." She turned her eye to him briefly. "But I figured if you were willing to warn me about the cops, you'd be willing to offer me a drink." She smiled falsely. "Since you seemed so concerned about my well-being." The sarcasm was evident in her voice. Instead of coming to the aid of the homeless man, he warned her about the police around the corner. It bugged her. Who butts into people's business like that. "Do you make a habit of butting your nose into people's business?" The hypocrisy of the statement was lost on her.

[Julian McAllister]

Julian smiled knowingly at her retaliating question, not bothering to try and hide his amusement. He found himself unimpressed, not at all intimidated by the hard side ways glances that had sent hobos running in all directions less than an hour before hand. Where others seemed to find a cold, hated bitterness, Junior just found the face of a young woman. Though it took no careful observation to notice biting tone and the harsh sarcasm of her voice, it was like it was lost on him. Even as he listened, he only tilted his head to one side thoughtfully, his expression curious and thoughtful, not at all doubting or suspicious. Blue-green gaze fell onto the hand of the bartender, who hastily placed a plate of what looked like fist-sized meatballs on the counter in his shadow before moving on to another patron.

"Yes actually."

The taller lycan spoke with a smile, even as he slowly turned his attention to the food that was wafting a good bit of steam into his face. It smelled delightful and a lesser wolf might've paused to sniff at the food temptingly, but Julian remained composed.

"It's one of my most cherished hobbies, really. As one can imagine of the life of a janitor, I have very little business of my own. So I often occupy my time with the business of others."

He paused, cutting off a piece of the breaded crust that covered the balls on his plate, revealing yellow cheese and curled noodles on the inside. He downed the separated piece before turning to continue the conversation.

"You sound offended? Would you rather I had let the police take care of the situation themselves? I doubt that would've ended in your favor."