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WHO: Noah Connell and Ezekiel Raub
WHAT: The two wolves meet and part once more; this time, no one gets punched. Quite the contrary.
WHERE: Generic NYC bar -- a bit lower-scale than Noah's used to.
WHEN: Weekend of the 13th-15th June.
Noah: After his brother came sweeping into town in an explosion of suitcases and sketchpads, Noah had spent most of their days showing him the sights and introducing him to old faces. Good fun, but he'd started itching for a night to himself -- and if he knew William any, the younger Connell was presumably itching for the same. So they split ways, Noah heading out for the nightlife and Will closing himself off with blank paper and Copic Multiliner SPs with 0.1 tips. The weekly world of comics beckoned, as always.
Noah wasn't, technically, on the prowl -- bringing a girl home and marching her past his little brother in the living room would have been awkward. They were both adults, but it was an uncomfortable situation he aimed to avoid anyhow. So it was a night alone, out to enjoy the local music in a small bar that couldn't afford out-of-state professionals. He listened absent-mindedly, most of his attention on the drink and on the crowd and on the bartender's ass. Nice little brunette stocking the drinks.
It was an idle thought, however. He could have talked her home, probably. But he didn't much feel like it.
Easy: Easy sauntered into the bar in the same state of casual disarray in which he seemed to constantly exist, making it nigh impossible to ever tell if he were starting a day, or finishing one. A cheeky grin was tossed to the bartender - as well as to several patrons - not all of which were received kindly, but which marked this watering hole as something akin to his turf nonetheless. He began to walk through towards the back of the bar, though his pace stopped rather abruptly as he moved past the bar, his nostrils lifting to sniff at the air in unexpected recognition.
With a wry smirk tugging at his lips, the rogue wolf began to glance to and fro, a search that didn't take long to find its mark. He spotted Noah's back at the bar, and even if he couldn't see the man's face, it was a scent he'd always recognize. With a mischievous gleam in his eye he shifted vectors and headed towards the bar itself, sliding comfortably onto the stool directly to Noah's left. A hand came up to clasp on the librarian's shoulder by way of greeting, the other dropping onto the bartop to signal the tender's attention. "Couple whiskeys, Trish," he called out, with an edge to his voice that could be identified as territorial, just subtle enough for Noah to pick up on, "For me n' my pal Connell here."
Noah: Noah's back stiffened at that familiar voice and that too-close touch, and his tired, wary mind was already starting to berate himself for having chosen here, of all damn places, to take his quiet night out. Good god, but he didn't want to end his evening with another brawl -- frankly, the librarian didn't have the energy for it. Black eyes were hard to explain, and he was all out of icepacks in the apartment.
"Of all the gin joints in all the fuckin' world, Raub," Noah sighed, giving one furtive glance to doublecheck the identity of his neighbour, but failing to meet the other man's eyes. As if he needed it -- as if he couldn't feel himself instinctively rankling at the sheer presence of another male wolf, disparate as their tales may be.
"Guess you know this place, huh."
It wasn't so much a question; Noah could already feel the familiarity reeking off him. Should've known. Take one step out of NYC's preened and catty elite clubs, he finds Ezekiel Raub.
Easy: "Whoa now, smooth down them hackles," Easy reacted to the snarl in Noah's voice by raising up both palms in peace - though the tone in his voice wasn't so much deferential as sardonic. "Ain't got no interest in another scrap tonight, champ. Just came by for a drink." With this peace offering laid out on the table he settled comfortably onto the stool, taking up one of the poured whiskeys and watching the other find its place in front of Noah. "Ain't no reason we can't just have a drink like a couple a' civilized human beings, is there?" Again his tone dripped with wry sarcasm as he lifted his glass, supposedly to their mutual 'civility'.
He brought the drink to his lips and took a brief sip, pulling his lips back over his teeth to emphasize the pleasant bite. The glass was given a satisfied shake, ice cubes tinkling within. "Now what brings a well-groomed lapdog," he stopped himself there, rather intentionally, and held up a hand as though to remind himself of his own white flag, "Pardon, gentleman like yourself down to a humble lil' hovel like this?"
Noah: He gave a little mock-salute as thanks for ordering the whiskey; the beer had been doing him just fine until now, but Easy's presence alone meant it was time to break out the hard liquor.
"Not really a gentleman, think we all know that," Noah chuckled around that statement, shaking his head. He sounded tired. Maybe that was the reason he was down here. "It's hard work paying attention in the, what'd you call 'em, well-groomed places. So doubt it as you fuckin' like, but part of me still feels at home in something like this instead. Less pressure."
He bit down on one of the cubes of ice, rolling it around before crunching it between his teeth.
Easy: The briefest flash of surprise flickered across Easy's face at Noah's admission, followed by the momentary quiet from one who'd been beaten to the punch. Easy wavered back and forth between surprise and victory, though in lieu of crowing about Noah's shedding of his domestic skin, he merely settled back into his stool with an oddly sympathetic shrug of his shoulders.
"Ain't nothin' wrong with that." He finally answered vaguely, making a dismissive gesture of absolution with his glass. His tone was still wry enough that none could accuse him of being soft on Noah, but at the same time there was a conscious gesture of peace in his refusing the bait of mocking Noah's deviation from his regular lifestyle. "Goddamned if I wouldn't go stir crazy dealin' with all that hoity toity bullshit 'round the clock." He sucked another sip if whiskey through his front teeth with obvious satisfaction, and tempered his oddly sympathetic words by making them a distracted byproduct of his main goal; making eyes at the girls who had just settled in at the end of the bar. "Dunno what ya see in it."
Noah: He made a noise in the back of his throat, a sort of ponderous and harmless growl, but it went unheard amongst the clamorous sound of music and talking in the bar. When Noah next turned to the right (his gaze slipping for a moment, equally distracted by the new women down their row), there was something else in his eyes. A narrowed contemplation; a small glimmer of something faintly selfish and lupine that had, until now, gone largely unnoticed.
"See, that's what you never understood, Easy," Noah said, slowly, grinning around his drink. "You obviously don't give a fuck about what people think of you, which I respect -- but you never learnt how to wear the goddamn sheepskin. It's uncomfortable as hell and it doesn't always feel right, but yeah, I do care what these shitheads think of me."
A vague gesture, motioning towards the clustered groups of people. The mundies, the humans, the flock, the tales, all alike; his gesture encompassed them all.
"I care what they think of me 'cos then they start giving a shit about what happens to me. Useful, that, sometimes. Staves off the inevitable violent end, at least for a while."
Easy: Easy responded to Noah's opening salvo of reason with a dismissive snort - he indicated with a flick of his wrist that he wasn't particularly interested in being fitted for the aforementioned sheepskin, nor in coveting popular opinion. Despite the derision, Noah's final comment did seem to stir some mild curiosity in the wilder wolf; he paused and looked askance at his drinking companion, with the closest thing that could pass for a thoughtful expression on Ezekiel Raub. Self-preservation was never something Easy was good at in any incarnation, but that didn't mean he couldn't gnaw on it a bit as food for thought.
Luckily he didn't have to dwell on such complicated matters for long, as a singsong voice from over both their shoulders pulled his attention away. "Excuse me," it asked, in response to which Easy shifted around on his stool to regard one stunning blonde, the obvious emissary from the group of girls from the end of the bar. "Like, are you guys brothers? Cause we have a bet going and I say you totally look like brothers, so it'd be awesome if you could settle that for us."
Easy couldn't help but feel his face split in a wide, sly grin, casting a sideways look at Noah before reaching out to drape his arm across the man's shoulders. "Well this here's your lucky day, darlin', cause you're on the winnin' side of that bet. Name's Easy, and this here's my older n' slightly more borin' brother, Noah." As he made the introduction, he cast another look to Noah, this one more meaningful - in his playful, teasing grin was the obvious invitation: run with my pack tonight, I won't tell anyone.
Noah: This time, he didn't shrug off Easy's arm; instead, he thought the situation over, gaze flicking back and forth from grizzled wolf by his side to the pretty, petite blonde thing a few feet away. Then came his answer: "Last I checked, Ease, you were older than me," Noah remarked with a grin. "Don't listen to him, babe. So how much money you got riding on us, huh? Can't help but feel as if we're being exploited, you know; young women profiting off poor hapless morons like ourselves."
He slipped into the role as smoothly as a duck into water, switching effortlessly from 'Noah, the rule-abiding librarian' to, well... Noah the way he wanted to be. Even if it was just for one night. He briefly clicked his glass to Easy's before downing the rest of the drink. Looks like they had a fun chase ahead of them.
Cheers.
WHAT: The two wolves meet and part once more; this time, no one gets punched. Quite the contrary.
WHERE: Generic NYC bar -- a bit lower-scale than Noah's used to.
WHEN: Weekend of the 13th-15th June.
Noah: After his brother came sweeping into town in an explosion of suitcases and sketchpads, Noah had spent most of their days showing him the sights and introducing him to old faces. Good fun, but he'd started itching for a night to himself -- and if he knew William any, the younger Connell was presumably itching for the same. So they split ways, Noah heading out for the nightlife and Will closing himself off with blank paper and Copic Multiliner SPs with 0.1 tips. The weekly world of comics beckoned, as always.
Noah wasn't, technically, on the prowl -- bringing a girl home and marching her past his little brother in the living room would have been awkward. They were both adults, but it was an uncomfortable situation he aimed to avoid anyhow. So it was a night alone, out to enjoy the local music in a small bar that couldn't afford out-of-state professionals. He listened absent-mindedly, most of his attention on the drink and on the crowd and on the bartender's ass. Nice little brunette stocking the drinks.
It was an idle thought, however. He could have talked her home, probably. But he didn't much feel like it.
Easy: Easy sauntered into the bar in the same state of casual disarray in which he seemed to constantly exist, making it nigh impossible to ever tell if he were starting a day, or finishing one. A cheeky grin was tossed to the bartender - as well as to several patrons - not all of which were received kindly, but which marked this watering hole as something akin to his turf nonetheless. He began to walk through towards the back of the bar, though his pace stopped rather abruptly as he moved past the bar, his nostrils lifting to sniff at the air in unexpected recognition.
With a wry smirk tugging at his lips, the rogue wolf began to glance to and fro, a search that didn't take long to find its mark. He spotted Noah's back at the bar, and even if he couldn't see the man's face, it was a scent he'd always recognize. With a mischievous gleam in his eye he shifted vectors and headed towards the bar itself, sliding comfortably onto the stool directly to Noah's left. A hand came up to clasp on the librarian's shoulder by way of greeting, the other dropping onto the bartop to signal the tender's attention. "Couple whiskeys, Trish," he called out, with an edge to his voice that could be identified as territorial, just subtle enough for Noah to pick up on, "For me n' my pal Connell here."
Noah: Noah's back stiffened at that familiar voice and that too-close touch, and his tired, wary mind was already starting to berate himself for having chosen here, of all damn places, to take his quiet night out. Good god, but he didn't want to end his evening with another brawl -- frankly, the librarian didn't have the energy for it. Black eyes were hard to explain, and he was all out of icepacks in the apartment.
"Of all the gin joints in all the fuckin' world, Raub," Noah sighed, giving one furtive glance to doublecheck the identity of his neighbour, but failing to meet the other man's eyes. As if he needed it -- as if he couldn't feel himself instinctively rankling at the sheer presence of another male wolf, disparate as their tales may be.
"Guess you know this place, huh."
It wasn't so much a question; Noah could already feel the familiarity reeking off him. Should've known. Take one step out of NYC's preened and catty elite clubs, he finds Ezekiel Raub.
Easy: "Whoa now, smooth down them hackles," Easy reacted to the snarl in Noah's voice by raising up both palms in peace - though the tone in his voice wasn't so much deferential as sardonic. "Ain't got no interest in another scrap tonight, champ. Just came by for a drink." With this peace offering laid out on the table he settled comfortably onto the stool, taking up one of the poured whiskeys and watching the other find its place in front of Noah. "Ain't no reason we can't just have a drink like a couple a' civilized human beings, is there?" Again his tone dripped with wry sarcasm as he lifted his glass, supposedly to their mutual 'civility'.
He brought the drink to his lips and took a brief sip, pulling his lips back over his teeth to emphasize the pleasant bite. The glass was given a satisfied shake, ice cubes tinkling within. "Now what brings a well-groomed lapdog," he stopped himself there, rather intentionally, and held up a hand as though to remind himself of his own white flag, "Pardon, gentleman like yourself down to a humble lil' hovel like this?"
Noah: He gave a little mock-salute as thanks for ordering the whiskey; the beer had been doing him just fine until now, but Easy's presence alone meant it was time to break out the hard liquor.
"Not really a gentleman, think we all know that," Noah chuckled around that statement, shaking his head. He sounded tired. Maybe that was the reason he was down here. "It's hard work paying attention in the, what'd you call 'em, well-groomed places. So doubt it as you fuckin' like, but part of me still feels at home in something like this instead. Less pressure."
He bit down on one of the cubes of ice, rolling it around before crunching it between his teeth.
Easy: The briefest flash of surprise flickered across Easy's face at Noah's admission, followed by the momentary quiet from one who'd been beaten to the punch. Easy wavered back and forth between surprise and victory, though in lieu of crowing about Noah's shedding of his domestic skin, he merely settled back into his stool with an oddly sympathetic shrug of his shoulders.
"Ain't nothin' wrong with that." He finally answered vaguely, making a dismissive gesture of absolution with his glass. His tone was still wry enough that none could accuse him of being soft on Noah, but at the same time there was a conscious gesture of peace in his refusing the bait of mocking Noah's deviation from his regular lifestyle. "Goddamned if I wouldn't go stir crazy dealin' with all that hoity toity bullshit 'round the clock." He sucked another sip if whiskey through his front teeth with obvious satisfaction, and tempered his oddly sympathetic words by making them a distracted byproduct of his main goal; making eyes at the girls who had just settled in at the end of the bar. "Dunno what ya see in it."
Noah: He made a noise in the back of his throat, a sort of ponderous and harmless growl, but it went unheard amongst the clamorous sound of music and talking in the bar. When Noah next turned to the right (his gaze slipping for a moment, equally distracted by the new women down their row), there was something else in his eyes. A narrowed contemplation; a small glimmer of something faintly selfish and lupine that had, until now, gone largely unnoticed.
"See, that's what you never understood, Easy," Noah said, slowly, grinning around his drink. "You obviously don't give a fuck about what people think of you, which I respect -- but you never learnt how to wear the goddamn sheepskin. It's uncomfortable as hell and it doesn't always feel right, but yeah, I do care what these shitheads think of me."
A vague gesture, motioning towards the clustered groups of people. The mundies, the humans, the flock, the tales, all alike; his gesture encompassed them all.
"I care what they think of me 'cos then they start giving a shit about what happens to me. Useful, that, sometimes. Staves off the inevitable violent end, at least for a while."
Easy: Easy responded to Noah's opening salvo of reason with a dismissive snort - he indicated with a flick of his wrist that he wasn't particularly interested in being fitted for the aforementioned sheepskin, nor in coveting popular opinion. Despite the derision, Noah's final comment did seem to stir some mild curiosity in the wilder wolf; he paused and looked askance at his drinking companion, with the closest thing that could pass for a thoughtful expression on Ezekiel Raub. Self-preservation was never something Easy was good at in any incarnation, but that didn't mean he couldn't gnaw on it a bit as food for thought.
Luckily he didn't have to dwell on such complicated matters for long, as a singsong voice from over both their shoulders pulled his attention away. "Excuse me," it asked, in response to which Easy shifted around on his stool to regard one stunning blonde, the obvious emissary from the group of girls from the end of the bar. "Like, are you guys brothers? Cause we have a bet going and I say you totally look like brothers, so it'd be awesome if you could settle that for us."
Easy couldn't help but feel his face split in a wide, sly grin, casting a sideways look at Noah before reaching out to drape his arm across the man's shoulders. "Well this here's your lucky day, darlin', cause you're on the winnin' side of that bet. Name's Easy, and this here's my older n' slightly more borin' brother, Noah." As he made the introduction, he cast another look to Noah, this one more meaningful - in his playful, teasing grin was the obvious invitation: run with my pack tonight, I won't tell anyone.
Noah: This time, he didn't shrug off Easy's arm; instead, he thought the situation over, gaze flicking back and forth from grizzled wolf by his side to the pretty, petite blonde thing a few feet away. Then came his answer: "Last I checked, Ease, you were older than me," Noah remarked with a grin. "Don't listen to him, babe. So how much money you got riding on us, huh? Can't help but feel as if we're being exploited, you know; young women profiting off poor hapless morons like ourselves."
He slipped into the role as smoothly as a duck into water, switching effortlessly from 'Noah, the rule-abiding librarian' to, well... Noah the way he wanted to be. Even if it was just for one night. He briefly clicked his glass to Easy's before downing the rest of the drink. Looks like they had a fun chase ahead of them.
Cheers.