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Spoon doesn't have a hangover. Sometimes being a werewolf rocks. He's out doing his normal practise and humming cheerfully while he does his best to make certain that every spot where Ryan generally hangs out has been thoroughly invaded with the younger werewolf's scent.

Just another day stuck at the End of the Universe.

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"Hi Spoon."

Toby wanders past, taking a break from work.

"Hallo." CRASH. Nothing human hits as hard as Spoon when he's working out. Marozzo says that you should imagine the pells as your enemy; and if the wood was human Spoon would have taken a huge chunk out of the man's side. As it is he's got to use his foot to brace himself in order to get his sword out again.

Toby blinks.

"Making a fire?"

"Why would I do sommat stupid like that?" Spoon asks, pausing to look at the human in bemusement, "I'm practising. Do this every day. Progressions for two hours, pells for two hours. What's the fuckin' point of Milliways if you don't abuse it to keep in shape?"

There are reasons that Spoon's muscles are as well defined as they are.

"Oh. You make fires at home?"

Toby smiles. "It's useful for lots of things."

"No." Spoon says, slowly, "I kill things. With me sword. Large and very dangerous things. Sometimes I use me teeth, or a plasma cannon."

"Oh yeah, the goats, I remember." He smiles. "How are you?"

Spoon is just going to gawp for a moment. "Goats are not dangerous. Goats are bleeding dinner. I kill dangerous things. Kainde amedha, dragons, various aliens, Heartless...that's more discorporating and less killing, Cybermen, dinosaurs, prehistoric mammals, and other shite like that." Goats? Dangerous? "Are you trying to provoke a bloody challenge? Because if so you're doing it all wrong."

Toby shakes his head hurriedly.

"No sir, sorry. I didn't mean to demean what you do, I just... didn't know. I mean, we only met once. And I don't do fighting, I just get hit. What's a kainde amedha?"

Spoon takes this moment to bang his head against the pell several times, to the cheerful ringing of his beads.

"Right. This is a sword." Spoon says, holding it up, "It is not used to make firewood. It is used to kill things. This is a pell." he bangs on the post, "It is used to practise killing things. I am very good at killing things. Usually in inventive ways. I like killing things. It keeps me sane. So to speak. Kainde amedha, or hard meat, is the specific kind of xenomorphic acid-blooded alien which must be killed in order to become yautja. I killed mine with me teeth and had to have me Blooding scar inscribed with silver after me jaw regrew."

"Oh." Sheepish grin. "Sorry. We don't get sword-wielding people at home. Not usually for long anyway. You must be very strong to fight all those things. I think I prefer healing them though."

"Only kind of doctor I need is a Pediatrician for me girl." And, frankly, Toby wouldn't cut it. Spoon needs someone who can adapt quickly, because God knows what Cora will run into with Spoon as her daddy. "I don't like doctors. Too many bad memories. I can heal anything nature throws at me."

Toby resists the temptation to ask Spoon if he has any friends. Instead he shrugs.

"I'm off duty. Work is work. Since nobody's hurt, I'm just another guy."

Toby would get laughed at. Spoon, just last night, got back from a week long pub-crawl-and-killing-spree with one of them. Some of the emotion leaks into the human's scent, and Spoon looks up with insane green eyes, "I was tortured for years by doctors employed by the British government. I have me reasons for me dislike carved in silver into me back, sides, legs, and memory. Mostly the last, I lose more scars with every fight."

"Well I'm not going to torture you. That would be like me saying that just because you're a werewolf you're automatically going to go all horror movie and kill everyone. I wouldn't even know how to carve silver into you, not that I'd want to."

Spoon rolls his eyes, turns his back, and pulls off his shirt. It is easier to find scarred flesh than unscarred (although his time hunting has left some of it perfect and clean...but he's too good to get touched that much). It's still easy to identify the scar pattern.

Anyone who has seen an autopsy knows those marks. They just don't call it an autopsy if the victim is alive when they do it.

Wince. "Ow. And I bet you can't prosecute either."

"I ate most of them." Spoon says flatly, "But it left marks in my soul. I do not like doctors, and it hasn't been that long since I would attack just knowing that someone knew how to do this. I am not sane."

Toby nods.

"Well thanks for telling me, I'll make sure I don't get too medical around you. Unless you want me to."

He takes a packet of fruit pastilles out of his pocket and eats one, then offers them to Spoon.

"No. Thank you. Got gum." Heavily mint gum. It's not a fag, but it's better than nothing.

Toby smiles and puts the packet away.

"I'll go away and leave you to your training. Sorry for interrupting." He heads off and waves. "See you Spoon."

"See you." Spoon says in return, shaking his head and attacking the pell again.

And then a frisbee goes by.

Closely pursued by a black and tan dog.

Ace?

Is in denial over winter. Yup.

Spoon reaches out without thinking about it, with a free hand, and catches the frisbee.

Then throws his sword to the side because Magic should not be skewered. "Ack!"

Dogs do not say ack.

At least, not the dog she was playing with originally.

They do try beg for the frisbee back, looking as terribly cute as can be.
Can I have it Spoon can I can I can I have it please can I have it please Spoon can I...

Ace is wandering over in their direction, to see if her dog has suddenly developed a gift for human-ish speech.

Go knock your mum down, then I'll give it to you. Spoon says cheerfully. What? He should not be the only person to end up on the cold, hard ground today.

Okay! Magic bolts off at speed, and soon there's a thump and a steady stream of alien curses in a British accent. Magic trots back looking ridiculously pleased with herself.

Spoon obediently hands over the frisbee, "Hallo, Ace." he calls as he stands up.

"... Spoon? It's cold." She grouses back at him, trying in vain to remove the melting bits of snow from under the waistband of her trousers. Some days it's hard to be a pyro.

"Yes, luv. I know it is cold. It is December." He opens his arms so she can come into them and share his body-heat. "Think some of the places Axel and I went were warm."

"More t'the point," She says as she snuggles, "M'more cold 'cause m'dog has suddenly decided t'pounce on me. Y'wouldn't know anythin' 'bout that, would you?"

Ace has a suspicious mind.

"Turn about is fair play." Spoon says contently, resting his chin on her head, "Should watch where you're sending the Frisbee. If it'd been a human he might not have thrown the sword fast enough to keep from stabbing her."

"... Oops?" She eyes the fallen sword thoughtfully. "Didn't expect anybody t'be out here in the cold."

"Not everyone is as cold-shy as you, luv." Spoon says, petting her hair until Magic comes wiggling up to them. Then he pets the Doberman, "Dedicated swordman will be out here every single day. It'd fuckin' kill us both if Magic got hurt, same as all our kids."

Puppies and Cora, it makes no real difference.

"Weird though. She's never jumped on people with swords b'fore." She notes as Magic snuggles closer.

"Have you thrown frisbees directly at them?" Spoon asks, bending over and hefting the dog so that she can put her front feet on one of his shoulders. She deserves to be snuggled, even if she's not sure why. "Just...worries me, she does. So excitable, an' thinks she's immortal."

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