Marc Mannheimer's Story

Ulrich eyed Ivan as he came in, taking in his bloody appearance fully. He frowned- there were questions to be asked there.

"Shouldn't we search for Sophia first, then?" he asked. "The police may be looking for her, but they're not making any leeway. I doubt we'll be able to identify the wolf that's been doing these attacks right off the bat. Not much we can do about that but keep an eye open."

"And just forget about Jesse in the meanwhile, who the police aren't looking for?" Jacques asked suddenly.

Jacques wasn't a particularly outspoken individual. Not anymore anyways. Not since he had challenged Baron for pack leader several years ago, and lost. Baron hadn't forced him out of the pack, as many pack leaders where apt to doing, but Jacques had largely withdrawn from the political and hierarchical aspect of the pack after that night. Where in the past he had been at the forefront to speak his mind and to challenge Baron's decisions every step of the way, he now tended the bar, he watched, he listened, and he kept quiet.

Tonight though... tonight he spoke. Perhaps it was the lack of Baron that had prompted it.

"The longer we don't have people out there in those woods trying to pick up Jesse's trail, the colder it's going to get. The Scions of Aodhan haven't given us trouble in years. They're still licking their wounds from last time. We can spare the people."

Meanwhile Carlisle knelt down next to Alfred and turned the man's head to the side to get a look at the split skin where Julienne's boot had caught him upside the head. He was breathing, and his pulse was strong enough. The wound was already showing signs of clotting, and it didn't seem like medical intervention would be required.

"Jacques has a point," he said while he checked on Alfred. "I don't trust the police anymore than the rest of you, but at least Sophia has people looking for her. Jesse's got heart, but he's a city boy through and through. There's worse than wolves out in those woods if we pull our people off the search."

"Agreed." Snow said, "VINDEX is helping us find Sophia as well, and as much as I'm loathe to place too much trust in Bowen, he has a lot of resources and seems committed to the cause. If just me and Bastien follow up on any leads they bring in, we can call in extra help if and when we need it." Ivan's entrance drew his eyes briefly, but he recognised him as one of them and refrained from interrupting the discussion to comment on his appearance.

Nieve frowned thoughtfully, "You are right about Jesse. The wilds are dangerous even for one who knows them. We need to find him quickly. Now that I'm back, I can lend my aid there. If there's a trail to be found, I will find it."

"Good." Snow nodded, "As for the wolves in the Phantom Quarter... we still need people there. That situation is only going to get worse the longer we leave it. Whoever's making the attacks, they're growing bolder by the day. We should prioritise Jesse, but we can't abandon the search there."

Ulrich nodded. There was a good reason he wasn't the leader. This was just it.

"Got it," he said, folding his arms. "I'm not as good in the woods. I can help in the Phantom Quarter."

"hmmpf." Alfred let out a quiet grunt as his eyes opened, looking up at Carlisle. "Well, that was about as bad as I was expecting."

Sitting up Fay rubbed at the back of his head, the entirety of which was extremely sore. He looked around, noting both julienne's and Chloe's absence. pressing down on one nostril, Alfred cleared his nose with a huff, a small glop of blood flying out onto the floor.

He sniffed the air, the only blood he smelled was his own. Well, at least something came of his beating. With a self-satisfied smirk, he turned back to Carlisle.

"So what I miss? Have you lot actually made a decision yet? Or are we still at square one?"

Carlisle scowled at Alfred's words and stood back up. If Alfred didn't learn some humility, he was going to have a hard time of it around here, and this would likely only be the first of many incidents.

The rest of the pack didn't pay him too much mind as they resumed discussing the matters at hand. They seemed largely in agreement on continuing the searches, and they soon moved on to discussing other matters of concern until the pack finally dispersed two hours later.

A pitch black coupe rolled up and parked on the other side of the street. Bowen stepped from the car, the engine still growling as he shut the door to cast his eyes up and then down the street, looking for Chloe. He clothing was so unlike what he normally wore. He wore jeans and a white t-shirt. A black button down hung loose upon his torso and upon his right hip in a holster was his pistol, the Browning hi power standard semi-auto.

The pack members that where hanging around out front of the building didn't seem to be paying Bowen too much concern. A few threw him glances, and Marc in particular threw him a rather dirty one, but the majority of them simply remained intensely watchful as he got out of his car.

Chloe was sitting at the end of the curb of the sidewalk, arms tucked and folded between her torso and her legs, her head down on her knees. She had been here for a while, hoping beyond hope that Bowen would not be angry with her. At the sound of the car door shut, she looked up, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering again at the sight of him. She also started to tremble once again.

Balling her fists up, she pushed herself off the curb and slowly walked over to Bowen.

He nodded to her. "Get in the car," he said without a smile when she got close enough to hear him.

She nodded, but looked up at him with concern. She rounded the front of the car, one arm going to cradle her injured side. She opened the door but hesitated, before sliding into the car.

Bowen opened his door once Chloe was safely in the car. A moment later and they were driving away from the Den.

Marc spat his distaste on the ground as the car pulled away before turning his attention back to the conversation with his pack mates that had monentarily ceased.