To Walk Fine Lines in the Sand [open]

[raban]

Raban Silvanus Blake had come to this place recently though he was sure his name was known to the local pack that hunted here. He smiled softly, you had to whisper 'traitor' in Lycan ears and the whole house in an uproar. He was lucky, too damned lucky, to have been let off with exile. He was aware that stronger alpha's would have ensured his death. Some part of him missed the social life that Lycans shared, a brotherhood that was born out of blood and common purpose.

And yet he liked the solitude.

It allowed him the freedom to go where he chose to go, to think what he wanted without an alpha, beta or younger whelps to hinder him about something. He sniffed the air and scratched his jaw. He was clad in his usual simple but hard wearing clothes, typically a shirt trousers and plain shoes that never lasted for long. He did not see a need for fancy clothes when he could be found by Lycan, Vampire or Hunter.

He stared at the statue that stood before him like a guardian that had no job in life. Raban snorted. peace and tranquility his furry behind... hatred always found a way to get back at the other side. It was insidious and just as persistent as his own nature. The wind picked up, howling gently as it tugged at his hair. His eyelids flickered slightly with faint irritation before he pulled the tie free and tied back his hour again.

There was very little about and he glanced up at the sky which was steadily darkening causing him to pull a grim face. He hoped that his presence here in New York would take a while to be picked up on but he figured that sooner than later, his scent would be picked up and puzzled over. Perhaps people knew he was here already but what did it matter to him? They weren't likely to come say hello and brood over a pint with him anytime soon.

Glancing to the statue once more, Raban shifted and grunted, the wind still steadily tugging at his ponytail and it made him smile. Nice to know that some things were always constant in this world of the damned. This whole feud between them, it seemed like a weird and backward joke... that's how it seemed to him of late.

He scratched his jaw again as he stood there, watchful and listening for anything that was possibly lurking. With so many years alone, his guard was always set in place. He had no option to relax it.

[Viktor Romanov]

Viktor had ordered his men to pull the car over when he realised what part of town he was in, the statue of harmony. It was a 300 foot reminder of the treaty to most of his kind and yet to him it was nothing more than a remnant of war. The war that had passed and the one that was swelling on the horizon and still Viktor was drawn to it. The men with him were loyal dogs, they attempted to protect him whilst still clearly fearing his every word, whilst he knew it was their job, none of this current group had his respect. Not that it was something he would give freely, respect had to be earned he had learned that from a young age, when he was no more than a whelp running around the compound thinking he was the greatest warrior alive. Dreams of glory and honour were smashed on the bitter shores of reality, as the true face of war revealed itself. Death and chaos ruled, no man was safe and here they had built a fucking monument to it, would he get the chance to cast the fucking thing into the sea when the treaty broke, he hoped so.

He pushed past a few humans as his guards attempted to press in front of him, he couldn't blame them, they were expressly ordered to protect him from unforeseen dangers. He couldn't help but admire the irony in the idea that he could possibly be attacked on the grounds of the peace monument but still he told them to walk behind him. Then he picked up the scent, a fellow wolf was amongst the sheep, it was strange, seemed like a pure blood but not one whose path he had not crossed before. Immediately he was overcome with intrigue, he turned and ordered the 3 large men back to the car, some luxury sedan that marked him as someone important, he cared not for luxury, in his eyes that was a thing for the fang heads. Once they had retreated he stepped forward and allowed himself to catch a proper whiff of the scent, still out of sight of his fellow Lycan and down wind.

Then his eyes caught up with his nose and spotted the large gentleman standing before him, he could tell he was the one he was looking for. He was in New York and not part of Viktor's pack, this only further increased his intrigue as he stepped forward and gently tapped him on the shoulder as he walked past. "What say we grab a drink inside, I'd say we have a great deal to discuss brother." His tone was friendly, as was his mood, he had no intention of starting a brawl in public wear anyone could be watching, hell truth be told he wanted to get away from his guards, they had been watching him with that silly grin on their faces, someone had been telling them old war stories again. He swore to himself he would burn the rest of those damned song books when he got back to the compound. He didn't wait for the man's response instead choosing to walk inside the base of the statue and into the bar on the ground floor.

[raban]

Raban shifted, strafing a little to the left as he let his mind wonder freely, spurred by this so-called monument for truce. He could remember being cold and brutal, lost of reason and hindsight and he was glad for how he was now. He was glad he wasn't just solely a killing machine whose jaws bit too greedily on their prey. Mindless. Absolutely fucking mindless. Only a percentage realised and adapted, some remained full of ego, pride and brawn for the entire duration of their lives. And that sucked if they were pure bred.

He was about to turn back towards the main hub bub of the city, to lose himself in the crowds, darkness and simply because he wanted to do a little scouting. It was a given rule with keeping himself live. It was vitally important to know the local scents of the place... where the Lycans and Vampires congregated and hunted. Learning the lay of the land was strategically sound, especially if no one realised your true identity. The sooner he did so, the easier it would be.

He blinked slightly, one of the few occasions he had been broken from his own reverie and he was surprised he did not jump. Raban looked at the male, one intake of air telling him was he wanted to know about him. He smelt important, high up... no one else would have that level of leather polish on them. That, and the way this individual was dressed. Warning bells rose in Raban's mind.

Brother? He was no one's brother... no any more and had not been for some time. Question was, did this were know him? Hardly but he watched as the businessman like male disappear towards the interior cafe, he knew he had to find that out for himself. He wouldn't achieve that standing here and making the man wait. Another jaw scratch and his weight shifted from foot to the other as he followed with only the briefest of glances behind him. The place was buzzing with unsuspecting humans who blissfully divulged in their conversations without the slightest fear of worry of two apex predators in such close quarter.

It also meant that whatever this stranger had to say would be ignored and unheard. Good. Raban was in no mood to deal with troublesome folk butting their nose in. He saw him and caught up and was silent for a long time as he studied the gent some more.

Definitely one whelps obeyed every command to, Raban could see that. He had seen it in his previous packs where youngsters obeyed every whim and demand in the hopes of standing if good stead. Lambs to the bloody slaughter. Not every Alpha or Beta was right about everything. It was one part of Lycan hierarchy he did not miss.

He sat slowly before his mouth opened, eyes remaining studious and wary. He had every right to be wary, the instant this wolf learned, well... things could get ugly. He didn't want that. He hoped the other was in the same inclination.

"It's been a long time since I have been called a brother,"

[Daniel “Lykaon” Myr]

The amassing clouds in the sky and the cold scent in the air hinted at rain and sent most people tucked tail for cover, but to Lykaon it meant it was time for a walk. The fifty pounds of chain mail that protected his upper body obscured by the brown leather jacket he had slipped over it. If not for the stiff wind and the coolness brought in the air with the promise of rain the four layers of clothing he had on right now would have certainly set him perspiring, but as it was he was just a tad bit warm. He looked with an almost mournful glint in his eye at a painting of the Greek god, Zeus, where the rest of his armor and even his proud sword lay hidden in the wall--it was really a shame he couldn't walk around with his weapon without people doing annoying things like calling the cops.

Letting out a sigh he settled with slipping a few thin silver stakes into the inner pockets of his jacket before heading out. Lykaon could not help but feel the code of secrecy that the Hunters chose to abide by was acting as a severe restraint. As he bordered the train he glanced at all the people around him with a curiosity in his eyes as he asked himself a series of questions; did anyone of them believe in Lycans or Vampires? Did any know the danger that lurked in the darkness that arrived with the sunset or preyed the city streets during a full moon? Probably not.

His brow furrowed with a frustrated anger and he caught the eye of a pretty brunette who took a cautious step away from him almost immediately, which brought a wolfish half grin to his face--yeah, he wasn't the one to be afraid of. Instinctively he stepped out at the next time because he knew that his presence was causing the woman to silently freak the fuck out and he found himself greeted by the tall, stoney visage of the Statue of Harmony.

Looking down he drew his lips tightly together as his eyes looked past the thinning crowd to spot a lone figure standing before it. His long hair could have been called effeminate, but even clothed the man exuded a sense of power about him that made Lykaon feel small even with the extra fifty pounds from his protective mail. Drawing out a thin, but dangerous silver stake he carefully tucked it into the right sleeve of his jacket paying particular attention not to stab through the fine material--it was a nice jacket.

A second glance sent a slight shiver of anticipation through the Hunter's spine and a hungry half smirk graced his lips as a memory burst to life in his mind. Tall, strong, long hair and a cleft chin could only mean...

"Raban." His voice held a note of respect and he kept his distance from the exiled wolf. He had heard the name many years ago and his curiosity in such a lycan had driven him into investigating more and more about this particular werewolf who seemed to hold no unruly grudge against humans nor even against Vampires. The Hunter frowned as he let his feet carry him down a set of stairs—perhaps peaceful outliers existed with all the races? Still, it was less his views and more so the fact that he had thrown off the heavy sense of belonging and brotherhood that accompanied being a pack member that intrigued Lykaon. However, Lycans were Lycans and while he had questions for the old wolf he also had a stake for his heart.

A new figure surfaced that caused the Hunter to stop in his tracks and wait with baited breath as he could only imagine what sort of exchange went on and surprise was clear on his face as Raban, after a slight moment of hesitation, followed after the other. Lykaon's mind was instantly sent into overdrive as he tore threw ludicrous idea after ludicrous idea; his mind would offer forth one possibility only for another part of his head to retort with an obvious flaw that would trash the thought. The Hunter could only imagine the identity of the newcomer, but he had a gnawing suspicion that he wasn't alone.

Still, the old, exiled wolf was known for his elusiveness and Lykaon figured Lady Luck wasn't going to smile on him so generously again. He pressed a hand to his chest and was comforted by the presence of the chain mail on his body—specially forged chain mail where he had learned to infuse small amounts of silver into the smelting of the ore, which was then used to construct his armor. Basically, it was as close to silver armor that he was going to get.

Licking his lips that had gone dry with anticipation, Lykaon found himself desiring to discover what sort of trouble and surprise lay for him in the bar so without further ado or deliberation he set himself moving toward the entrance. As he entered the bar he was sure to keep his right arm pressed securely to his body so that the stake tucked there would not fall out; thought it was certainly an unorthodox piece of weaponry people still weren't comfortable when a person walked around brandishing a stake. Spotting Raban and the other man seated at a table he calmly and confidently walked up with a warm, cordial smile on his face before he set himself in the nearest open seat.

Spreading his hands out to both sides he let the silver stake slide out far enough so that the tip was revealed as he spoke, ”Hello, gents. Can I buy you two a few drinks?” The light from one of the fixtures caught the tip of the weapon and the presence of the thing was bound to not go unnoticed by either of the individuals at the table. The Hunter kept his friendly smile in place as he let the stake slide back into concealment—it's presence, while it could be served as a threat, was more so revealed by Lykaon to let both the beings at the table know what exactly he was and what exactly he was capable of.

The crocodile smile on his face silently and blatantly stated without words, “I know what at least one of you are and I know how to kill you.”

[Viktor Romanov]

Viktor had positioned himself across the table from his new acquaintance, after all if you were looking a man in the eyes it was harder for him to put a blade in your back. He was watching the man's ever move, analysing him as he did all those that came across his path, his face was as unfamiliar as his scent. The level of ease with which the human had crept up on them was slightly unsettling, his men had strayed from the car and were hovering just outside the door. Viktor gave the slightest of glances calling off his attack dogs, more because he didn't want to scare off the Lycan than whatever the human had to say. He could smell the blood running beneath the surface of his skin and hear the heart beat, it was strangely calm, either he had no idea who the two of them were or he was a hunter. His eyes caught the silver stake that was being deliberately flashed, just enough so that the two of them would notice but not enough to alarm the rest of the room.

The man confirmed Viktor's suspicion when he revealed he knew what one of them was and how to kill them. It was a funny feeling, he had came across hunters before but they never once frightened him, it was actually quite a humorous idea. The whole concept of the cattle armed to kill those that hunted them, they hadn't realised that they were relegated down the food chain years ago and were nothing more than walking talking meals. This one believed himself safe because he was holding a piece of silver, Viktor could have snapped his neck where he stood and yet he held his tongue and sat in place for the moment. He looked at his fellow Lycan and wondered just who he was, the hunter must have spotted him for Viktor kept a low profile wherever he went, he had no need for unwanted attention. His appearance was that of a businessman and that allowed him to fit in well in this city and yet somehow a hunter was on his trail now.

"How about you run along now child and leave the grownups to talk and watch where you point that little stick of yours, wouldn't want you to cut yourself." Viktor was not a man to mince his words, least of all with humans, he tolerated them and even dealt with them in his day to day business but he would not be threatened by one. It was beneath him, he could tell from how the man carried himself that he was well trained, if the hunters were becoming brazen enough to openly attack in day light, perhaps it's time he sent a few troops over to their little island and put them back in their place. Viktor glanced over at the man as he seemingly held his ground, it was the kind of stubbornness that he would have been forced to respect any other day, but for the moment he was in the way and interrupting. If he risked a brawl in the open his pure blood acquaintance would take the chance to leave and Viktor wanted to know his story, what he was doing in his city and where was his pack. Then again if the monkey knew of him as a Lycan perhaps he could tell Viktor the information he needed, not that he would ever trust the word of a hunter.

"Where were we, yes I think I'll have a scotch and you? I'm sorry I never got your name." Viktor looked over at the hulking man across the table, he couldn't get a read on him just yet and the human was proving a distraction. Viktor wasn't stupid enough to just ignore the silver stake he had or the undoubted arsenal of weapons nearby, instead he blinked just for a second. Whilst in some cases that eye movement would have meant nothing, here at least it had brought his guard into play as the three men took their seats within the establishment, covering the area next to the door. They had seated themselves separately but it was obvious they were together with how they dressed and the manner in which they scanned the room. He would have to teach them subtlety later but for now perhaps their presence would distract or scare off the human, Viktor was playing a delicate game. The room was a powder keg of tension, the slightest wrong move would result in a blood bath, that was not at all what Viktor had in mind we he stepped in here and he could really do with avoiding any unwanted publicity. That thought sickened him, why should a Lycan care about publicity when they should be ruling this planet and bringing the humans to their knees, it was times like this when he didn't mind the fact that war was on the horizon.

[raban]

This one reeked of one who used authority like an overused note that never faded with the times but Raban could see the intelligence in the individual's eyes. He was intrigued to say the least and he was clearly going to say something but Raban frowned. A metallic scent filled the air and faint clink of what hunters tended to use as part of their armour. He smiled softly and leaned back in the seat as the second male to butt their nose into his time of day except he knew that this was only a human trying to compete with the big boys...

Raban was not stupid, he knew those with authority in the Lycan ranks tended to use lower ranked whelps to guard them. Oh, sure, they were always usually trained to the jaws but their intelligence always had the old wolf wondering. It was a running stereotype these days but as with everything... protection was important if you had any hope for staying as the Alpha, Beta, whatever for long. He rolled his shoulders as the human opened his mouth and his eyelids flickered slightly, hoping that this wasn't another happy go lucky upstart wanting to get into his pants. Human's penchant, he supposed and he figured he should be flattered but the answer was always the same. A boot up their jacksy.

However, it seemed more likely his head on a platter seemed to be on the man's mind and he was more amused than he was afraid. As strong as he may have looked, he was not the first to claim the prize of killing the traitor or the famed wolf from the south and foreign shores. Raban studied the man, not really needing to see the hidden slick of silver stowed away. He was here for more than just a drink and it seemed the little pup was bold enough to be straight up about the whole wretched.

He smirked, that was refreshing. The amount of hunters he had run into that tried to be all sneaky... it was completely lost on a trained pure bred. Still, this guy would provide some amusement though Raban certainly had no intention of killing him, not without a heft amount of provocation and besides, he found that it would serve no purpose. Course, this lycan would not think on the same lines. Things were starting to get very tense, heated and something that would turn very sticky. His tongue flexed over a canine in silent thought.

The lycan spoke his peace and Raban smiled, clearly amused though he held no indication as to what he was amused about. He was still thinking this situation through, lots of people, restricted space and yet more dogs to heat the tension. Did this hunter truly realise who he was up against or what he might be letting himself in for? Had he truly weighed the pros and cons? Partially, for the most likeliest of outcomes... if this runt did not know he was outnumbered, then he was sure to now.

Viktor's dogs stood out like sore thumbs and Raban shook his head ever so slightly... not enough for a human to catch note of less they specifically looked for it but others of his kind were sure to pick up that. One never got far with hunting if the prey could see you. He sincerely hoped that this wasn't a sign of the strength and might of the pack they belonged to.

"Pity. I was starting to enjoy his company," he remarked before meeting the eyes of Lykaon and he knew it was indeed his head he was after. The other Lycan had not been that calculated but he supposed he was a rare sight to see these days. He had kept out of main society, living on the fringes of remote towns and villages no one knew or cared about. He had to give to the man, he was bold enough to try for the target and openly too. He scratched his jaw absently, still thinking, calculating.

He side glanced Viktor and was amused again. This one was trying to get a read on him so apparently the curiosity and interest was in fold. Nothing new in his reclusive world. So called traitors always sparked interest no matter how much they hated him. Dod this one even know, had he heard...? Surely, something like this tended to spread... and if this hunter had heard then this hot shot would. Curious...

"Whisky," he said simply, he supposed it ultimately would not matter if he said it now than later... the man would eventually find out. "They call me Raban," before glancing to the human with the expression that he knew precisely why the hunter was here and he had no qualms about putting him in his place if the man pushed the issue. Really, Raban was not in the mood to be spilling blood today.

[Daniel “Lykaon” Myr]

Settling into his seat he quickly found that with the bulk of the chain mail under his jacket had him holding his arms at odd angles so he simply let the weapon slide out from where it lay and he discreetly folded one of the table's napkins over it to keep it from prying eyes. All the while he kept a deceivingly charming smile on his face and even winked at the big Lycan to keep the mood light. However, behind the ever present mask of arrogance that Lykaon kept on his face his mind was fast telling him that he might have sunk his boots into shit too deep for him.

The darkly clad forms of the Lycan guards were easily picked out by his fast moving eyes and he found himself shrinking further and further into his chair as the weaponry and armor currently on him seemed to grow more and more inadequate. Still, his body's reaction was minimal and his gaze and face still portrayed an exceeding amount of confidence and ease--even if his blood were destined to wet the ground right here, right now he would ensure it was mixed with just as much Lycan blood if not more.

Lykaon licked his lips quickly, wetting them again as he shifted lightly in his seat. It was a strange feeling, but the air between the three males at the table was oddly... peaceful. True, he had brandished his weapons, but aren't even the jaws and claws of a wolf apparent upon meeting? Part of loving battle and fighting like he did also meant Lykaon had a sense of propriety about where to draw swords and where not to. Something in the air and the back of his mind told him that this impromptu meeting here had an unspoken white flag waving about it. At least while they were seated here--the three men were almost friends.

Waving over a waiter he spoke in a quick, orderly manner, "A shot of your finest whiskey for my large friend here and the one in the suit would like an... orgasm on the rocks." The smile on his face turned into a rather obnoxious grin and a hint of mischievousness roared into life in his eyes. Thanking the waiter he turned his attention back to the two at the table, "Now, Raban... Pardon me for asking, but I thought exile meant not getting little visits by other Lycans?"

Though he was not sure that the nicely dressed man was indeed a Lycan he had a strong suspicion lying in his gut and even as he dropped the comment his eyes were boring voraciously into those of Viktor in an attempt to read any hint or telltale sign that his comment had hit the mark. If he was going to divine any more knowledge from this situation he needed to do it now while the atmosphere still remained as light and civil as it could possibly be.

[Viktor Romanov]

Viktor listened to the Lycan across the table from him as he finally revealed his name, Raban, it rang a bell, he was indeed an exile. Viktor had no particular feelings towards that particular term, in his eyes he was still a Lycan, which meant he was a part of his pack. Perhaps it was the fact that he had been Alpha for so long but he felt responsible for all of his race, even those that had been created in the gutter by nothing more than hungry dogs. There was one thing that would make Viktor turn his back on a wolf and that was the crime of killing a defenceless brother and to him, that was punishable by death. Even with the man's identity revealed Viktor still meant to have words with him, find out what he was doing in the City and possibly strike up some sort of alliance, even if he didn't want anything to do with his pack, he could always do with another pure blood. His kind were rare and growing more so with every passing year, even in the sanctity of his own pack, he was surrounded by whelps and half bloods.

He was about to comment on his friend's illustrious nature when the human once again butted his nose in. Viktor had forgotten he was still there, he was a persistent little ant, one that he meant to squish if he continued to get in his way. The hunter had a mouth on him, he had showed Raban some respect when he realised who he was, but still tried to antagonise Viktor ordering some sort of beverage that he no doubt assumed to be funny. The alpha had no time for games and didn't plan to indulge the human much longer, then he asked about an outcast getting little visits from other Lycan's. Viktor had to admit that the human was well informed, these hunters knew more than he had given them credit for. He caught the waitress by the arm, firmly enough to get her attention but not enough to harm the girl. "Scratch that fancy beverage, I'll take a scotch straight up." It was only then that he turned his gaze onto the human, noting the odd angles his arms were sitting at, for the moment he would put it aside as he looked at Raban.

"Well seeing as we are exchanging names and pleasantries, I guess it's only fair, my name is Viktor Romanov. But my friends call me the alpha." He watched both men closely to read their reactions, he wasn't certain how either of them would behave. There was a possibility that both Raban and the hunter would turn on him, after all anyone who killed an alpha would go down in history. The hunter could instantly turn himself into the most renowned hunter in the world and well Raban was an exile, he wasn't certain how the Lycan would react to his identity. The waitress returned with the beverages setting them down on the table, Viktor reached for his and supped at the glass. The rich flavour illuminated his taste buds. "What an odd party we make, the alpha, the outcast and well a hunter, sounds like the start of a bad joke. You're going to need more than that little stake to get out of here alive boy." His eyes glared at the hunter, his guards growing more impatient with every moment, he could tell they wanted nothing more than to rip the human limb from limb.

[raban]

As he listened to young pup, he added cocky to that mix of what this man seemed to be about. He had seen plenty in his time and the joke the boy thought he had over the other Lycan wasn't missed. He got the strong impression the hunter respected him for some reason that escaped Raban's notice. Sure, he liked being respected, who didn't like the ego stroke? But he did not appreciate from cocky whelps who had no real idea of the hole they constantly dug for themselves. If he had been younger, less calculative, less caring about the need for secrecy... well, blood would have been spilt and it would not have been his own.

If Viktor was aware of the exiled's status, then he either was good at hiding it or it didn't bother him in the slightest and when he revealed his own status and Raban's mouth twitched slightly before the hunter turned his attention back to his obvious first target. Didn't this guy learn how to take hints? No, he was cocky and stubborn... he was going to be a touch flea to squish.

"Bit rich coming from you, kid." he sighed softly, his manner amused and seemingly aloof, absent but the eyes betrayed his calculative nature. He saw the angles and at this rate, Viktor would have his dogs act. "I can't choose who stumbles upon me when I roam but those who do choose to find me should' His eyes had been lowered, eyeing the setting of the tableware before they lifted looking the man directly in the eye. It wasn't something a whelp would dare do, nor a half breed, not as direct and cold but it told the boy to watch his step, "know what they think they're handling,"

Whilst Viktor didn't mince words, Raban had a funny way of expressing himself. He wanted the human to know the sea of sharks he was swimming with, the risk involved, that over-toeing the happy little line they had going on here wasn't going to last forever and he did not want a fully capable hunter to end his own life in a really dumb way. In a way, he told you a lot without really saying much but the basics were the same. The kid should get out whilst he still could. Raban had seen first hand just how thin an Alpha's, even a Beta's, patience could be pushed.

After that he simply smiled and glanced when the waitress returned with their order and Raban gave her a smile and a thank you when she placed his in front of him. She smiled back, her eyes do nothing but roaming his own physique. "No problem, sugar" and she walked away to see to another table. Raban watched her for a moment before his eyes flickered towards the other too and his hand wrapped cleanly round the tumbler.

He had no desire to challenge an Alpha nor put a cocky hunter out of his misery. That would upset the fragile balance that was going on presently and Raban knew the importance of balance only too well. It was a shame that not many on either side understood that as well as he.

He smirked before he sniffed at the whisky, an old habit that would never go away before he downed it in one, his gullet pushing out from a thick and well muscled neck. He placed the tumbler down with a giant's gentleness as his tongue settled on a canine again and he smiled deeply, eyes dancing. He liked this Lycan already, there was a sense of humour that lied within the warning.

"Well... I'm game to see how long it takes for your dogs to get bored,"

[Daniel “Lykaon” Myr]

A heat entered in his blood stream and he felt it pulse through his veins, tickling the palms of his hands and leaving a refreshing, lingering tingle in them. He wanted to fight. However, the unspoken peace that was about the table was still present and he left the silver stake where it lay underneath his napkin. His eyes roamed once more around the room to size up the three Lycans, sweeping over their forms with a calculative and concise look.

The suits they wore gave away their strong, muscled forms and he knew that the Lycan blood that ran through their veins only gave them increased strength and constitution. No guns lay at their hips, but he could only assume that they were armed--ever since the Vampires began to play with silver bullets the Lycans had to respond in kind to level the playing field. Basically, he was in trouble, but he still had the protection of the public at his disposal, which meant he still had time to think of a way out of this bind.

"So, what are you doing outside of your sewer, Alpha?" A curiosity was poorly hidden behind his eyes as he sipped from the glass of water that had been set before him. Not many Hunters had the opportunity that he had now and he was going to utilize every second he had with such an important figure to the enemy. Any information that he could glean from the Alpha and this elusive exiled wolf would be useful.

Flexing his right hand he tucked away the desire to grab the stake and plunge it into every Lycan heart in the room--the Hunter would settle for information in lieu of blood for the moment.