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Posted: May 29 2017, 04:16 PM
puppeted by Sarah
The fight was gone, and of course it would be, waned from him all too readily when it was offered no resistance. What fun was it to fight someone who posed no return? What good was it to lay your fist into a man's face when it'd not retain the mark for longer than it'd taken to throw the punch in the first place? The wolf would retreat. Fingers uncurled to slide from his skin, their tips red and warm until the air rushed in and chilled. An idle threat that tickled him, that red that coated his fingers but it'd been little more than an unneeded display of power and capability to use it. Superficial and the marks would remain for mere moments, about as long as any black eye would hamper his own face.
The tilt of his head was curious, fingers rubbed idly together to test the consistency as the wolf judged his motives like a jury of peers. An arm across his chest and he'd bend the other to inspect the color closer still. Always favored, always a beautiful rich and deep tone that tickled the senses sweetly.
"Why did you bother with it at all then?"
A brow would rise as his red gaze flickered to wander the features of the wolf that stood not so far away yet.
"I had hoped you'd make it harder. A proper chase. Breed that adrenaline into our veins," Tone cold and yet impassioned after a thing that fluttered a heart rapid and lilting. "It sang beautifully from you earlier, fevered and raw," when he'd stood in a puddle of felled men and bled softly. Pointer finger extended while the others curled slightly, inspected closer before it found the void between his cheeks, laved over and cleaned. A stolen thing he'd already and now once more. "Adrenaline does funny things to men, Lito, even I'm not immune," he was sure the other knew, for all his calm, in the face of that waning fury he had the look of a man who knew acutely well what such things did to the minds of animals and men alike.
"I chased with a hope that it'd meet me here, not the man... but I suppose hope is often bred for disappointment,"
Fighting never offered Soren much, a bit of frustrated passion perhaps but beyond that? A hurdle he didn't need. This wolf had offered a possible formidable chase, one which wasn't liquored, poured into the bottom of a glass, slid across a bar and deposited into his hand. A chase worthy. Perhaps Lito's words spoke more truth of him than even the fevered beating of his heart had. Thus far he was proving himself an honest man, at least in word, but honest men didn't beckon vampires with offered wrists and then flee -- at their own pace -- in the expectation of pursuit.
He stood there with his golden judgment after a man who'd done as he'd asked of him, but the reason that drove his feet didn't match and therefor he was deemed disgusting. Curious. Soren watched him back away and without intent to follow. San Francisco was a large city, but it wasn't so large that men, even if not entrenched in the same shadows, weren't likely to meet again at some point or another. Sticky fingers would fish a cigarette from his pocket, careless over their mess or the red that would seep into the paper as he moved to inhale a second later. Flavored it softly with wolf, a heady thing that curled his smirk.
"I suppose it is.
"As much as I favor the red in your veins, wolf, I am a selfish keeper of my own time."
Red eyes tracked the wolf as he shifted himself into a lean more comfortable. Chin dipping softly in agreement to his leaving. While every inch of his surface called to continue himself, pursue, chase, follow, he wasn't a man who often wasted time on a challenge that held no possibility for own favorable outcome. What point was there in a challenge you could only ever lose?
"Until next time,"
Casual and almost offering,unless, an unless that wouldn't likely be heeded by anything but the wolf's back. His tone would follow where his feet, wanting as they were, would not.
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