He hadn't really thought about it, the first time he'd done it. He'd been hungry, and he'd needed something to eat and hadn't been able to catch anything the old fashioned way. So he stole it, in the middle of the night, sneaking through the back door of a deli that had been left open during a cigarette break
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Peyton, for his own part, couldn't help the heaving sigh of relief that escaped him as he made it to the old warehouse, slipping into the low to the ground broken window he'd been using as an entrance, completely missing the fact he'd cut his back paw on the few shards of glass in his haste, the pain pressed below the pulsing need to 'runhiderunhide' that seemed to pound in his head with his heartbeat ( ... )
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Greta regretted that her thoughts had immediately turned away from 'kill' to 'pity', to sympathy for the cringing wolf, but it wasn't something she had active control over. She was an emotion driven woman, after all, and instincts honed from these years of hunting with Simon had left her with snap judgments that were usually on the money more often than not. Though she didn't lower her gun or lose any of her aggressive posture, her muscles coiled and ready for fight or flight, she didn't believe this was the dangerous sonuvabitch they were ( ... )
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But he wasn't shot yet. He wasn't shot yet and she didn't exactly look like she was going to shoot him any time soon. He was still shaking, ears still pinned, eyes still wide with fear, but he let out a soft little 'aroo?' of question that was probably much more at home from a domestic golden retriever than it was for a werewolf.
Peyton couldn't bring himself to mind.
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Greta fished out her phone and immediately sent a text to Simon to tell him to 'hurry the fuck up' and 'we've got a problem. his name is fido'. She didn't lower her weapon but she eased her grip a fraction to take some of the tension from her wrist. After sliding the cell back into her pocket she glared, ruefully, across the space at the jerk that lead her on a wild goose chase.
"You are a bastard, you know that? You had me chasing you half across bumfuck to catch you and you're not even what I'm after, are you?" She'd laugh at herself later for talking to the animal, but dammit! She needed to vent her frustrations in a more constructive manner because her usual way was to shoot at what was bothering her.
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Which is, of course, right when Simon manages to shoulder open the door to the warehouse enough to accommodate his larger bulk and calls out to his partner.
"Greta?! Greta, where are you?"
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He moved, gun out and at the ready, but he wasn't sure anything could have prepared him for what he saw when he made it to where Greta was standing. She--
There was a damn werewolf cuddled up to her like she was his long lost mother. And she was completely turned away from the thing, throat, chest, sides exposed and vulnerable for attack as she looked back at him.
"---explain,"
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"Meet the little wolf that couldn't," She grinned broadly and wriggled her damp fingers at the animal. Simon wouldn't shoot it, not this close to her, so she thought they were both relatively safe for the moment, though she knew her ears were going to be in for it if a flush started creeping up along Simon's neck...which she couldn't tell in this light.
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"He could be faking," He said slowly, even as his grip on the gun loosened slightly, and the wolf gave a tiny little whine and pressed his muzzle into Greta's limp hand.
"--is he even a werewolf?"
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At their questions though, he thinks he might be able to explain some things, and he moves away from the woman, slowly, heading for the cover of a few file cabinets that are toppled over in some sort of haphazard fashion high enough he won't embarrass himself when he shifts.
It takes him a moment, a long moment, before he's anywhere close to able to grab on to his human side, but he finally manages it, and with a sickening sound of bones and muscles and tissues rearranging themselves he's standing on weak legs and giving them both an awkwardly sheepish look from behind the slim shield of metal.
"--hi."
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