Ulrich Palomer's Story

It went on for far, far too long a time.

Cass still did not drop Baron’s gaze when a splatter of guts hit her bare skin. Even when she heard a yelp followed by the padfalls of a gait which she recognised as Hubert’s, she didn’t move.

She’d had some idea of what to expect. But the brutality, the animalistic manner… She had not been prepared for. And definitely, neither had Hubert. Pressing her lips together, she arranged herself as to not make it obvious that she wanted to take flight right now and piece back together what was left of the werewolves of the Phantom Quarter.

With the show over, Brendan turned his attention to Baron and Cass who were stood in silent confrontation. He was sympathetic to a point, but it was hard to feel wholly sorry for the woman who had remained so ignorant, who had been so passive and let so many awful things happen.

Finally, Cass broke their competition by looking about the area, searching for Michel, Seri, to see if Hubert was anywhere near with a sweep of her head. There was some embarrassment. She couldn’t see anything, though she felt that Seri was nearby. She itched to get going, to attempt to mend.

Alone. Naked; literally, figuratively. And surrounded.

“We need to talk more.”

Whilst others of the pack had given in to their primal and feral sides, after delivering his fatal bite to the throat, Snow had retreated back from the dying Arman, leaving the others to savage him. The sight was not pleasant, but he did not show his disgust. He padded calmly to the edge of the rise, not far from where Baron and Cass were talking, and waited to follow Baron's lead.

As gruesome as the scene below him became, Seri did not take his eyes off of it. When it was done, he sat in place for several long moments, looking down at the tattered remnants of Arman. Finally, his eyes snapped to Cass and Baron. What came of the Runts now, he wondered?

That was in Baron's hands, it seemed. He grimaced. He hoped he hadn't traded their freedom from one menace off for another.

The hardness of Baron's eyes did not abate as Cass looked away at last, and in fact only grew darker at her response to the situation.

He had asked her for hunters, and she brought children and a man who had never seen violence in his life from the look of things.

"All of you, get back to the city," he instructed his pack. "Except you," he told Snow. "You stay."

Cass was indeed right, they needed to talk. And he intended to do it right here, and right now. What better place than here, with the mark of her failure dead not yards from where they stood. His blood still fresh, and the consequences of her actions heavy on the air.

Several days later...

Baron was behind the bar fishing out a bottle of whiskey to pour himself a glass, and only vaguely payed much mind to the goings on within the room.

The Den wouldn't be open for another three hours, but the establishment served as a general hangout for the pack, and it was rare that it was empty even when it wasn't yet opened for customers.

Bastien and Jacques where currently engaged in a game of pool, while Ulrich was waiting his turn to have a go at the winner. So far the game seemed fairly level, and it could go either way.

"I don't remember you being this good," Bastien noted dryly as he leaned on his pool cue and waited his turn.

"I play on the weekends," Jacques answered. "How's your kid?"

"Better," Bastien answered.

The conversation droned in the background as Baron sipped his drink.

Jeanne never did expect herself to come back in. She'd said she would, made comments about it to Iago, but she didn't think she was serious.

But here she was, poking her head into The Den, looking for Baron. It had been a particularly long day at work, and the previous night speaking to the children had given her a headache. She needed to wind down- something she rarely did. It's not as though the boys at the office wanted to run into her at a bar.

Almost sheepishly, she smiled at Baron once she'd spotted him, and glanced around at everyone else as she approached him.

"Opened early today?" she asked, smirking at him.

Suspicious eyes turned on Jeanne as she entered, and a few even murmured quietly before turning back to what they had been doing before she arrived. Baron's eyes never looked away though and they followed her as she approached him.

"Not for a few hours," Baron answered as he took another sip of his drink. "Do you play?" he asked as he gestured to the pool tables. There was a wolfish gleam to his eyes as he watched her intently.

The detective lifted her chin as she took a gander at the pool tables, hands coming to her hips. She ran her tongue along her teeth in a grin. "It's been a while. I might need a little refresher," she said, giving him a sidelong glance.

He finished his drink and set the glass down before making his way to the tables where he picked up a pool cue and tossed it to Jeanne. He never played with the pack, and his presence at the tables was a bit unusual, but he remained seemingly uncaring of the eyes that lingered upon them.

Jeanne swept the room in a glance, lips opening a sliver as she became fully aware of how intent the stares were upon them. She caught the cue without a problem, while slowly turning her head to catch Baron's eye. She leaned her head over slightly to indicate their company. His company. The... staring... company.

She supposed many of them remembered her face, and it certainly was unusual she'd come back to just hang out. It wasn't as if she'd been actively trying to shut down the Den, however. It wasn't her fault that Baron was keeping a woman in the basement.

Instead of shrinking away, Jeanne came up to the pool table and gave the bar that award-winning smile of hers. They wanted to stare?

That was fine.

Snow was seated to the side of the room, alone in a booth. Since Max's departure, it had become a common sight. Whilst there was no questioning that he was closely involved with the rest of the pack, during times of socialising he would seldom be found anywhere but the fringe. It wasn't a situation he was dissatisfied with - he'd long been the quiet and contemplative type, and he was happy with it.

A small glass of lemonade sat half-full on the table in front of him whilst he leaned back in his seat to watch the news playing on the TV above the bar. His attention was halfway divided between the report and the police officer Baron had brought back here. Other members of the pack were blatantly staring, but he kept his interest less obvious.

Still, regardless of her station and her involvement in Baron's arrest, if Baron had brought her here then she couldn't be that bad. Hopefully the others could play at law-abiding citizen while she was around.

His eyes wandered from that scene over to where Desmond had just entered, and he raised an eyebrow to see Chloe enter with him. He hadn't spoken to her since the pack meeting several weeks ago. After a moment of consideration, he grabbed his glass and stood, making his way over to them. He leaned against a table next to theirs and nodded a greeting to them.

"I don't think we've been properly introduced since I chained you to a chair," he said to Chloe, the corners of his mouth curling upwards in a small smile. "My name's Adair, but most people call me Snow."

Hugo kept to himself in another lonely booth in the room, reading a book. As he read, he thought to himself why he has such a desire to assist the pack in any way he could. For the longest time he wouldn't even show up at meeting places unless he was required to do so for an important gathering. However, the crippling loneliness finally got to him and he decided to show up here for once. Despite this, he kept to himself still, not knowing anyone in this room. He sighs, putting a bookmark in and closing the book with an audible noise, sliding it into his coat pocket. The glow of his deep blue eyes was slightly obscured by the round, dark shades he wore.

He stands up and decides to sit at the bar counter instead. He takes out a pocket watch that was thankfully not made of silver and opened it, showing a photo of him and his parents from days gone past. Closing it angrily, he cursed under his breath "What does it matter if I'm man or wolf? I was still their son. They sent a damn assassin after me." he muttered to himself. He grabs a beer and pours himself a glass, giving it a drink, shaking his head at the taste. "Mmph, no wonder I don't drink often." he chuckled slightly, but decides to finish the glass anyway. He thought he may have been a bit overdressed in his white collared shirt and purple coat, but it was all he had on him. Once he found a job he would probably purchase more casual wear. Glancing around the bar, he noticed many people in conversation, not sure who to talk to. He was still nervous about talking to anyone really. He wanted to find a cure, not get used to being in this pack, but he knew that it was for the best if he made at least one friend here.