closed;

[starjet]

Jet wiped at his forehead, hugging close to the building as he stopped to tug at his shirt collar. He'd been running hot the past few days and the city had been experiencing a remarkable heat wave. It probably wasn't helping that he'd been wearing a jacket ever since a night of bad decisions saw him waking up alone and with a disturbingly bloody shoulder. The marks, teeth marks because apparently drunk him decided on a biter, had been aching some fierce for the past few days and no matter the amount of ointment he slathered on, it was still angry looking.

Thus the jacket in the high humidity. He didn't want to deal with questions, or listen to his co-workers laugh at him, over the remnants of a night out. He'd rather take the heat stroke.

Jet gave himself another few moments of leaning against the building, watching people file by on the street. Most didn't so much as glance at him, just another uninteresting sight during early morning foot traffic. A few would glance over and he'd stare them down until they passed or got too uncomfortable. He wasn't sure why, no eye contact was practically a rule of city crowds and Jet had never felt the need to break it. Something about the cold, unimpressed looks set him on edge, made him feel more aggressive that the heat should allow.

He surprises himself that he's not just staring, he's outright glaring. He has to loosen his hand from the fist he'd somehow made and with a start, Jet pushes away from the wall to barrel through the crowd. He doesn't know where the sudden spike of anger came from, but it's settled low in his stomach and making the pain from his shoulder all the sharper. He tears his way in the crowd with the barest civility, knocking into elbows with only a quick, guff apology.

Comments

[goodluckkobra]

Kobra's on his own for a few days. Most of his pack is upstate for what he feels is a pretty stupid social obligation, leaving the whole big city for him to roam. There are some perks to being the alpha's brother, at least.

Of course, there are other packs around, but he mostly sticks to areas that he knows they won't be. Sometimes it's nice to have a few days to really be on his own without worrying about pissing contests or hunters.

The neighborhood he's walking in now is what he would argue is pretty firmly in their territory. Most of the other packs aren't stupid enough to challenge Party on it, so he shouldn't be smelling another werewolf, but that seems to be exactly what he's smelling.

He wrinkles his nose and follows the scent through the crowd, cringing at the mix of perfumes and stale sweat. It's too close to the full moon for him to be around all these people without complaint.

When he pinpoints the smell down to a big head of hair and a too-warm jacket, he decides to have a little tracking fun until they get to a less crowded place. For all he knows, another pack figured out that he's the only one here right now and they're going to make a move, so he follows the man through the crowd, doing his best to not be too obvious about it.