Space Cowboy

[gabriel]

Massive crowds generally weren't Gabriel's style. Little more than a country-boy shoved in and out of civilization for much of his life, no matter how big each city got, he could still never shake the feeling that he was being suffocated. The smell of sweat and adrenaline and perfume and hormones in packed-areas always managed to set him on some kind of an edge, so to be here, of all places, meant that he must be feeling worse than he'd thought.

The Halfsie eyed his watch, and did a quick mental tally on how many drinks he'd had in the past half-hour. Maybe? ...Nah. Round four.

Prior state regardless: Gabe was in a rare bad mood. And perhaps it was a subconscious decision to take solace in a crowded place instead of a quiet one. Here, he could endure constant distraction and little annoyances, as long as he didn't have to think. If he ignored his thoughts, he would be free to do something else, get angry at something else, stay sane by snapping at a smaller problem than a larger one.

He tapped the butt of his phone on the bartop, pounding out a semi-nervous cadence. Surrounded by people he didn't know, in varying degrees of emotion and celebration. Mostly wolves, very few humans - a first and slight shock, since he'd moved here; he'd read somewhere that Cold Creek had one of the largest populations of lupine in America. With a hand the size of a dinner plate, he massaged his brow, sea-green eyes slipping closed.


...In a crowd - you can still be alone.

[Jack Lupus]

Frank remembered when bar duty had been one of the best parts of being Second. Then, he had been younger and itching for fights and the free beers and pieces of tail sent his way didn't hurt none. But these days there were other things he'd rather be doing, namely Patience.

So if he was a little harder on the more rowdy 'wolves, no one said anything because the alternative was him pulling rank and sending them home thirsty. If he was being honest, though, he did still enjoy throwing his weight around a little, catching whiffs of fears when his gaze settled on one unfortunate 'wolf for too long.

He scanned the bar and caught sight of a relatively new face- that mechanic or whatever who had given him a deal on fixing that piece of shit he had inherited from Cassandra. He drained his beer and ambled over to the bar, taking the seat next to the man to order another.

[gabriel]

"You can't ignore me forever, shitbag. I will make your life miserable to the day you DIE."

Oh, God. Having inherited his father's European drinking tolerance, the alcohol just wasn't getting to his brain fast enough, to block out that...that woman's voice. Conniving, piercing, and filled with such gleeful contempt that it turned his stomach to even think of what he'd been so stupid to believe what they'd had before. Those "good times" - there had never been any.

The chair beside him scraped as it was moved, and vaguely, he remembered the familiar scent - but through his haze, couldn't recognize who it was right off. Well, who else have you met since moving here?

Gabriel grunted a greeting, remembering now, and drained his next glass.