spam; the last journal post

[ukan]

[Getting on board was a moment of chaos. He remembers turning a corner, expecting to find fur and blood in his mouth, expecting maybe to get torn up in return, expecting maybe a bullet from above to take him down, too-

But instead he's somewhere metal, somewhere that smells of strangers and strangeness, and he's bleeding a trail but he runs for safety anyway. If there is any. If there are doors, anywhere, that he can open without changing back, because this has to be the FBI's work and so long as they think he's just a wolf, maybe they won't slit him open and poke around inside.]



[ooc: Lark is a wolf, for now. He'll have to change back sooner or later even if he doesn't want to, so feel free to tag him as human or wolf, just lemme know which.]

Comments

[spam]

[ukan]

[Sitting is good. Her accent is good, her posture and her mannerisms and her scent--all good. And somehow, very distantly, familiar. Maybe she had been a client? Maybe she had known Sasha?

If she had he's sorry for her, because this woman will hate Lark a whole hell of a lot when she learns what happened.

If she learns.

He takes a hobbled step closer, but not near enough to be touched, yet.]

[spam]

[routemistress]

[This seems like a good time to hand out some of the chicken jerky pieces Iris always keeps in her pockets since acquiring her own dogs. Elvis and Solace have theirs behind her chair, Lark's is slid along the floor towards him.

She keeps talking, quietly.]

You've been 'ere before. You probably don't remember yet, sweetheart, people often don't when they disappear and come back. You 'ad friends 'ere. People that cared about you. Chris, d'you remember Chris? You and me were friends, too. Sort of friends. You trusted me enough to do a blood test on you, once.

I'm worried about your leg, my darling.

[spam]

[ukan]

[That can't be possible, but he believes her. Which feels a little bit like believing there's a floor under you and then toppling into nothingness. He looks at her without bothering to dumb his expression down, because clearly, she does know. There's nothing to hide from her.

He's just trying to figure out if she'll turn him over.]

[spam]

[routemistress]

Some wolves, it'll heal when they change. Does it work that way for you?

[She knows enough to know what that look means.]

That's one way. Or there's the infirmary; or I've got a first aid kit in my room. I'm just thinking you might be a bit too chewed up for that, lovey.

It's good to see you again, though. I missed you.

[spam]

[ukan]

[He shakes his head. It's such an oddly human gesture that it feels strange even to him. He could change back now to talk but there are deeply ingrained rules about that, and so he lays down, stretches his bad leg out. First Aid, see where it goes, please.]