milliways_bar | (no subject)

"Sarge!" Knox tries not to be too loud but between genuine gladness at seeing Wells and overwhleming curiosity about whatever it was Wells went through, he's a bit on the enthusiatic side.

Wells looks up sharply, but his expression eases as he sees who it was. "Ah," he says. "Morning, Knox. How've you been?"

"I've been pretty good. And you? Did hear right that you went back home?" Knox' smiles dims a bit. It's bad form to be too eager to hear the news. Especially since he is sure the news is not all good.

Wells grimaces a little, but nods. "Yeah, I did. Got together a bunch of willing helpers and we paid a visit to Gruinard Island. God, what a fucking mess that was... Got out alive, though, which is more than I was expecting."

His mouth twitches a little, the smile too quick and too sharp to be entirely healthy.

Knox takes his measure of the man. And not being a veteran war correspondent, figures maybe he'd better pick his questions carefully. "Alive is good. Did you get what you needed?"

"Oh, yeah," says Wells, and reaches for his tea. "Yeah, we got the files all right. Shut down some of the operation, too- property damage mostly- and nicked a few of the experimental animals from the werewolf programme, though that was an accident. Wouldn't've allowed that if I'd been conscious at the time. The fucking things'll be the size of ponies when they're grown."

"Yipes. Sounds like loads of fun. But now that you have the files, I guess you can get the job finished, right?" That voce in Knox's head wanting to run with the story is insistent, and only the time difference keeps it at bay.

"I...I heard something from Robin about aerosol silver. And Zuko. How are you hanging in?"

Reporters are funny that way sometimes. Yeah, the ones from CNN who turned up in the Gulf were on the restrained side, but if they got wind of something really interesting you couldn't shake them for love nor money. Wells nods. "About the size of it. I reckon I'll be going back to England in about a week. I need some distance from the current turn of the moon if I'm not to do something really damn regrettable at the Ministry."

Then he exhales, eyes on the tea but attention elsewhere.

( you know what happens to infantrymen, don't you? )

"Upright and breathing's not gonna be enough of an answer, is it."

Knox smirks. "Well, I've never been quick to let it go with one line. WOuldn't be much of a story if it had one line.

"But...well, just this once I might give someone room if he tells me that his wife is taking care of him, and if he promises to tell me more when his job is done. Might be something here I can use for Say True." Knox is capable of being a friend, sometimes, after all.

"Sorry, mate," Wells says. "This is not a good day for me. It's pretty well just willpower keepin' me in my seat just now. Full moon tomorrow night, see. Which means guess what I've got to look forward to tonight."

He does sound genuinely regretful, for what that's worth.

It'a worth something. Knox would be the first to admit that he has no idea what it's like being under a curse, and under the gun/ If you were to ask him, that is.

"Yow. You are having a bad week, Sarge. I wish you the usual luck with that. And staying away from Raina."

"Who knows, though? Maybe you can talk with Zuko in your, er, other state?

"Tell you the truth, I haven't seen nor smelled Ms. Wallis in I don't know how long," Wells confesses. "I'd remember if I had, believe me. That sort of thing gets right up in the old 'get the hell out of here' parts of the brain..."

Then he laughs, just a little. "She told you about that bit, then? I don't need to be furry for that, Knox. Maybe I would've back when I'd just been infected, but I've had a few years to practise. I'm as fluent in Wolf as it's possible to get without the ears and the tail. Same goes for Dog, really."

Angua might be of the opinion that it's not a disease, but Angua was born a lycanthrope in a family of born lycanthropes- in a country chock full of 'em. It's different for her.

"Yeah, she told me. Kid likes to talk. Polar opposite of her mentor. Not that she ever talks about him." He shrugs.

"So I guess you'll keep Robin up to date about Zuko then. And make sure he doesn't decide to use anyone as a chewtoy. Good." Just because Knox is getting used to werewolves doesn't mean he's totally comfortable with them.

"Talking to dogs...you could make a mint taking that on the road. Assuming they ever have anything to say."

"I owe it to him," Wells says firmly. "By any measure you can name. He's my student, for one. He's saved my life several times now, for another. He kept me sane back when I was just getting used to all of this werewolf shit. And on top of that I'm the one who fucking infected him- I owe it to him to stick with him through this." He picks up his tea again. "The Infantry takes care of its own, damn it."

He smiles a little, the quick twitchy smile again. "Oh, they do. 's not the same sort of thing us two-legged types'd call conversation, exactly, but they do. Helps a good deal that I know what they're talkin' about when they've got to convey how someone smelled. Most of 'em are a bit scared of me, so they'll do about anything to keep me from giving 'em grief, really."

"Weird. That's just...weird.

"Youkn,w Sarge, every time I think things in Gotham seem a bit odd, every time I wonder about the Bat and clown and the nutball shrink, I just think about all the strange things here, and it's puts things in perspective.

"Usually."

Wells laughs. "Nah, mate. You want to see weird, you should see what I was doing for a living for a while when I was on the run. Only shepherd in all of Britain who didn't need a dog or a whistle or a stick. All's I had to do was stand where I didn't want the sheep to go. Same for the cattle, though some of that lot were pretty fucking stubborn." He considers. "Got charged by a bull once. I expect he thought he could run me off before I hurt any of the calves."

"You were a shepherd. You...were...a...shepherd?" Knox gives a cockeyed grin at the image of Wells in overalls chasing sheep.

"Yeah, that's weirder. Not sure what's stranger, having a wolf guard the sheep, or you doing that for a living. You really don't seem the farm type."

"For about a month and a half, yeah," says Wells. "Wasn't my favourite job, I'll tell you. There's nothing between those things' ears but empty air. You don't get fussy when you're looking for jobs that pay in cash and don't ask for identification, though."

He shrugs. "Did a lot of odd jobs the past two years. It's only these past six months I had anything really last. I've got a position in a farriery in Yorkshire, shoeing horses big enough to cave your ribs in if they get temperamental. 's better than nothing, and it means I'm not tempted to come back on a full moon night and rip out anything's throat, which is more than I could say for the shepherding."

"Yeah. Who likes horse meat?" Which is a very odd thing to think, but it's what comes to mind.

"I bet you're going stir crazy out in the boonies. I know I would."

"It's more that the animals don't stick around nearly as long, and aren't as bloody stupid," Wells says. Then he shrugs. "I was at first, I'll tell you- but I don't think I could live in London now. Too many people, too many smells, and they're all packed in on top of each other like that- I'd go mad trying to keep it all from overwhelming me. And that's just in the off time. Full moon week in a city like London?" Wells shakes his head. "I'd never make it. Annie'd have to lock me in the cellar and hope I didn't dig my way out. Being indoors this time of the month's damn near unbearable."

Not that he's not doing it anyway, but still.

"I think the people of London would probably thank you for bieng someplace else, anyway. A werewolf in the city...that would be bad if sometihng went wrong for you and Annie. Never mind that I think your friends in Black Ops would put the pieces together and make you target practice." And about now Knox begins to get that Wells is twitchy jsut being inside. Which is a bit unnerving to Knox.

Another small, dry smile crosses his face. "It's gonna make things interesting if I ever get my life back," he says. "Annie's business is in the city. I couldn't ask her to pull up and leave that, not after all this time. And she's a baker, so she's got to be up really damn early- she'd be traveling into the city before dawn..."

"Yeah, that should be fun. People are really gonna wonder just what you and she are doing in she's got a wolf in the basement three nights a month. If I were you, I'd save up for soundproofing." Knox tries to smile, but under the mildly (im)mature banter is what he thinks is real advice.

"More like saving up for a plot in the country and a damned fast motorcycle, if anything," Wells says. "It will not end well if I've got to be inside when it happens. Either I'll go mad, or someone'll get killed- or both, more likely. I managed in the cells here last time, but that was 'cos I knew damn well that I'd kill someone if I didn't let them lock me up- and 'cos my cousin jiggered the magic down there so it smelled like I was outside and in the open. Otherwise? There'd've been blood on the walls from me trying to break them down and escape."

"And what are you doing this time?" Knox says this calmly, even after sensing more than before that Wells is on a knife's edge today. He SO does not want tobe around when the wolfing hour hits.

Wells jerks his head towards the back door. "Keeping Zuko company," he says. "It's... not as bad, when there's someone else about who doesn't smell like a threat or run like a rabbit."

Knox laughs a bit, despite it all.

"Well, I guess that's a tiny silver lining to it all.

"Anyway, I hoep things go smoothly for you and Zuko. If you don't mind I think I should be mooving along. And letting you get outside?" Which is Knox's way of noting that he has porbably abosrbed enough wolfen oddness for the moment.

"I dunno that I'd call it silver, exactly, but yeah..." He finishes off his tea. "And thanks. Do yourself a favour. If you're still here this evening, don't go outside."

And with that he's gone.

Eek, something about someone looking like they could use a distration or something tends to get her attention and since she doesn't have to worry about loosing a leg or anything else (as far as she knows) she approaches.

"Hello. Long time no see."

Wells glances up, blinking; he knows he's picked up the smell before, but he'll be damned if he can remember where. "Is it?" he asks politely. "Hallo, miss."

"Some months I believe." it's not many that have forgotten her. She tends to be rather memorable.

"Please call me Prue." rather then tea she orders some coffee.

"Maybe for you, but I was out of the bar a good two years," Wells says. "Prue, is it? Harry Wells, then."

"Oh?' a retorical question as she doesn't douibt him she is just processing this new info about bar and the strange way that it works here.

"It's nice to remeet you, Harry Wells." she offers a nice smile. "I'm glad to see that you servived the explosion then." as that was the last time she had spoken with him.

"Ah, you knew about that, then?" Wells sips his tea. "Sorry. About all I'm remembering on you is your- the sound of your voice, a little."

Probably not a good idea to talk about smells in front of someone he doesn't know.

Nodding,

Yeah she can understand that. "Nothing to apopologize for it's been a while for you and we had only spoken a couple of times." gesturing to the bar, "Can I get you anything?"

He shakes his head. "I'm all right, thanks. Be going outside soon anyway, I think. It's feeling a bit... I dunno, pinchy in here."

"Some fresh air is nice." still smiling. Prue knows how confining this place can seem. She is used to being one with the universe rather then being confined to her body though that is slightly different.

"I wont keep you then. Perhaps we can talk again another time." she takes a sip of her coffee and stands.

Wells nods. "Another time," he says, and sets his empty cup aside. He's got to look for someone out there anyway.