An Ankh-Morporkian Werewolf in Paris

[uberwaldian]

Who: Angua; open to Arya, Jon Snow, and anyone else who wants a little werewolf in their lives!
What: A wolfish nighttime tour of the city.
Where: All over Paris, particularly the back alleys
When: Night One
Warnings: Some non-sexual nudity? Werewolves don't wear clothes!
Note: Despite the icon, wolf!Angua looks like a golden wolf with unusually

Comments

[19centconstable]

[What a coincidence: George is also interested in talking to local dogs. Mostly because he doesn't speak any French, and a big, future-y city can be a bit lonesome. The hotel bed had been fantastic, of course, and George would have been quite happy to stay in it for three days, if that had not seemed like a bit of a waste. He's out on the street instead, looking slightly out of place in his old fashioned suit. He still smells of the poodle he recently made the acquaintance of.]

Hello Boy.

[Sorry Angua: all dogs are boys to George until he's told otherwise.]

[uberwaldian]

[Of all the streets in all the cities... Actually, she realizes as she gets near him, George is less confusing like this. He smells like poodle and the complicated mix of smells she's come to think of as Barge, not like Carrot's shiny soap. Besides, his voice doesn't have that "Master" sound to her wolf ears.

And Carrot always knows a bitch when he sees one.

She sits down by George, panting thoughtfully. To her dim eyes, his suit looks perfectly modern. Maybe he knows the city? Someplace to go?]

[19centconstable]

[Unfortunately, he doesn't.]

Are you on your own as well?

[George talks to dogs like they might talk back. And coming from the 19th century, he's used to dogs being allowed to wander the streets sans leash or owner.]

[uberwaldian]

[But this dog does appear to have an owner, or at least did at one point, judging by the gold-and-leather collar and tags around its neck. For her part, Angua's not sure how to respond; it's not like she's never met the sort of people who talk to dogs, but... when most people talk to her, they are actually expecting an answer.

Eventually, she settles on cocking her head to the side. It usually seems to work for other dogs.]

[19centconstable]

[How very doggy of her. George seems to find it comforting.]

I'm not from here myself, as I suspect you can tell from my accent. And I'm afraid I don't know quite what to do with myself. I've been told to eat snails, but the idea doesn't much appeal to me.

Oh, I'm sorry. Would you like to sniff my hand?

[George holds out a hand, and seems honestly embarrassed to have been so rude as to not introduce himself, doggy-style.]

Picture this face on a wolf.

[uberwaldian]

[Er. She doesn't, really, and she thinks this may get very embarrassing if and/or when he realizes it's her, but... something in her compels her, the little wolfish bit that eats the chickens, and she edges forward, sniffing.

To her own horror, before she can stop herself, she even licks his fingers. Oh, gods.]

My dog makes that face all the time.

[19centconstable]

[It's alright. When in Rome and all that. Not that George has ever been to Rome. But he did turn into a pig once for several days, which was fairly embarrassing.]

Good boy.

[George scratches her behind the ears.]

You have some very nice jewelry. I keep thinking I ought to buy some: for the future. I've been given money you see. More than I'll ever have again. I could buy anything I'd like. Only I haven't got any idea what that is. The jewelry wouldn't be for myself, of course: it would be for a lady. But I've never bought anything like that before. And there's no saying I could take it with me when I went home.

What about this one?

[uberwaldian]

[It's oddly relieving to learn he probably has a girl back home, the way it was oddly relieving to realize he smelled nothing like Carrot. She's not really worried about... about messing anything up, but it's just. Well. Helpful, to avoid confusion.

Relaxing a little, Angua sits on her haunches, wagging her tail. She has, apparently, nothing else to contribute to the jewelry conversation, although she does gives a small whine that could potentially be interpreted as: "Buy her a necklace, you sod."]

Not so much.

[19centconstable]

[Oh, no. He only wishes he had a girl back home (and there is a certain girl in particular that he wishes she were). But it's the sort of match that would never work: she's rich and from a good family. He makes $1.20 a day and is a foundling. She's a reporter who travels the world. He lives and works in Toronto. She's had sex with several famous men including Houdini and H.G. Wells. That's a lot to live up to. Just imagine what Houdini's penis could do.]

I suspect you would buy a nice steak dinner with my money, wouldn't you? Would you like to do that? How do they say steak in French? Is it just le steak?

Well, now I can't imagine anything else. Thanks, George.

[uberwaldian]

[Angua is actually a functional vegetarian... when human. She has to admit, her wolfish stomach is rumbling a little at the idea -- even if, equally disgustingly, it would prefer something still bleeding.

Ugh. She's drooling a little, isn't she? Ugh.]

[19centconstable]

[George peers across the street.]

That restaurant has got tables outside. Let's see if we can get them to serve us something which at least came from a cow, eh?

[George strides off, expecting she will follow.]

[uberwaldian]

[Hating herself a little, she does. She can just taste that steak, already... and while the person controlling the brain is making faces, the wolf is taking control of the legs. And teeth. And stomach.

The wolf likes Constable George. Steak!]

[19centconstable]

[Steak indeed! It's certainly not something George can afford very often back home, and he slides eagerly into a seat. The waitress looks amused by his dining companion. George manages to say 'two steaks' in a way that she understands.]

My Violet back home would be terribly jealous if she heard about this. She only gets a bit of chicken now and then.

[uberwaldian]

Rare, please, for me. [...Is what Angua would like to say, of course, but all that happens is a plaintive sort of bark. Hopefully it gets the message across, anyway.

She lays down next to George's chair -- but definitely not at his feet, because, gods damn it, she's a von Uberwald werewolf and she has to have some pride, here -- and stretches out, waiting comfortably for steak. Imagine her lack of surprise to hear that George already has a dog. He seems like the type to have ten, if he could.]

[19centconstable]

[He'd love to have ten dogs, but he could never feed them all; he only has the one because she was given to him. George reaches down and strokes Angua's head.]

I miss her quite often. I sometimes think of having her sent to me, but I don't know that she'd like it. She's getting on a bit.

[uberwaldian]

[Okay, that's going a little far. Only Carrot can... pet her.

Er. Yes.

She butts George's hand away with her head, giving a low, gentle growl of warning.]