milliways_bar | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Good morning, Bar, how are you?
I hope you're feeling fine.
I'd love to stay and talk but it's almost 9 o'clock,
and I'm missing a pup of mine.

Wolf, looking for Harold.

Feel free to ask him what he's doing, since he's basically walking around sniffing.

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Wolf looks over.

"Oh, yeah. Um... Someone, actually. You wouldn't have seen a two year old around, have you?"

"Can't say I have, but I'll keep an eye out," Wells promises. "What's his name, and what's he look like?"

"He's a pale little kid; white like... bread dough. Sort of. Not literally. But pale and with pale hair. His name's Harold."

There's something almost familiar about this man.

No kidding. Wells nods, frowning, trying to place it-

He's good at sniffing inobtrusively when he has to, but he's got a feeling inobtrusive won't really matter with this one.

No, not really.

He frowns, almost.

"Pardon if this seems rude, but are you maybe not human?"

"Not any more," Wells admits. "I was born human, but I came second in an argument with a werewolf two years back. Survived it anyway." He makes a vague 'time passes, things happen' gesture with one hand. "Yourself?"

If he thinks it's rude he shows no signs of it. Then again, it's very hard to offend the man at times.

Ah! Makes sense. Wolf thought so. Or something along those lines.

"Wolf father; magical species in my homeland."

Well, Wolf doesn't really have a home in the Kingdoms, but that's beside the point.

Wells nods. "There was a family of werewolves up in Scotland- it was one of 'em that got me- but I haven't met any others since. My name's Harry Wells."

He's interested, but wary; the last wolf-type he met was Raina Wallis. That's enough to put anyone on edge.

Any? That's a little odd.

"Ah. ...Scotland?"

"Oh! My name's Wolf. ...Mother had this extreme sense of irony."

Wolf doesn't blame him. He's heard about Raina.

Well- in his own world, at least. He should probably have clarified that, the big lug.

"On Earth," Wells says. "It's the country just north of my homeland. The Highlands of Scotland're about as wild and isolated as you can get in our part of the world."

He laughs, a short, sharp sound with a little bit of a snort to it. "Straightforward enough," he says. "Here- d'you want help lookin' for this kid? Don't want to distract you."

"Oh, okay. That makes sense now."

Wolf thinks about it, and his instincts start kicking in.

Harry's not pack yet. And Wolf isn't exactly sure he wants to trust this guy with his pup. Not after stuff that's happened before.

"No, thanks anyway though. He sometimes gets scared of people he doesn't know very well."

"Fair enough," says Wells, unperturbed. "I'll leave a message if I happen to spot him before you turn him up."

Some people are like that. Philippa was easily spooked by strangers as a child, too. He can deal.

"Thanks. Nice meeting you, Harry."

Wolf goes back to walking around, trying to pick out fresh Harold scent.

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