he will play god.

not relevant.

[sbardot-blog]

@kbarncs

“Zombies. Zombies. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, right?” Sawyer slurred, words being spoken rather loud and slow for the surrounding environment. These were the thoughts that had been running through his head ever since the incident a couple of nights before and, much to his pleasure, his fellow hunters were in a similar boat in terms of confusion. What else would they find themselves up against? Not being able to openly hunt supernatural creatures was hard enough given that he would have to have probable cause otherwise he would likely see his head on a stick, but knowing there were more than just a handful of different species? Sawyer felt like his head may explode.

If only his father could see where he was now.

Not that he really wanted him to. After all, Sawyer’s father had been a terrible, abusive, neglectful man to both him and his siblings — never paying them much mind unless it came to teaching them the ways of hunting. But, nevertheless, Elijah Bardot would have had a grin on his face if he could see what his son had grown into. Both fortunately and unfortunately the man had never lived to see the day, but Sawyer tried his very best not to dwell on that too much. Admittedly, the recurring nightmare of having to kill his siblings after they had been turned still kept him up at night, but it was the only motivation for him to get up in the morning and head into work.

And what had gotten him through the most recent day was knowing that he was going to get unimaginably wasted with his friend Kit and shoot the shit about everything that had been happening lately — but what else was really new?

[sbardot-blog]

@shilohaddams

Ever since Sawyer had come to Blackvale, he had made it a necessary component in his life to never be too distracted. No matter what he was doing, no matter who he was with, he always held a sense of awareness with him because in the game he was involved in, one could never be too careful. Besides, it had been ingrained in him since he was a small boy to not trust anybody except those you regard as family. For Sawyer, this included his deceased blood relatives and (more recently) the men he found himself in arms with when it came to being a hunter — these people were family to the man, people he could rely on, people who had long since earned his fickle trust.

But, every now and again, his most primal instincts got him into trouble. And for Sawyer, one of those moments included the times he had rolled around with Shiloh Addams.

Now, the two had met on an offhand encounter — one that wasn’t supposed to happen but, alas, Sawyer had somehow stumbled his way past the bar that she was in. He didn’t know it at the time but The Witching Hour was her business and, despite the fact that he had nearly gotten into a fight right outside the front door, the woman had taken pity on him and let him get off with a warning. Ever since then, the two had had a complicated relationship. They had spent a few nights together, sharing intimacies under the sheets at Sawyer’s apartment, once or twice sharing breakfast the next morning — but that was over now. The man had made some choice comments in front of the woman and she had ended their streak, leaving him in the dust for a good amount of time before they had reconvened. Now, even in the dark of night after a few drinks, the two shared a common awkwardness; this was one of Sawyer’s shortcomings. He couldn’t quite get the silhouette of her body against his sheets out of his mind, no matter how hard he had tried. And he tried.

But, meeting the woman for a coffee in the middle of the afternoon wasn’t going to help him in that department. He had asked her to a neutral spot, one between where she had been and where he had been going. The man had taken a seat near the window, always needing to keep his eyes peeled, and was now sitting with a cup of steaming hot black coffee as he waited for the woman. When she arrived, he looked up and raised his eyebrows slightly, giving her a nod. “Hey, stranger.” He spoke, voice deep and low as per usual.

[sbardot-blog]

tiberloche·:

Tiber had made it his business to know the ins and outs of Blackvale and the people who lived there. While he couldn’t give you an extensive list of the people, places, and things, there was a specific pool, if you will, of those he’d learned to keep an eye on. Kit Barnes, for example. The man had a thirst for the blood of the supernatural, most specifically those of the Lycan sort. But he wasn’t the only one. Tiberius is certainly not omniscient by any means, but people talk, and you don’t learn how to survive in the dark by being careless. Go, run, get down somewhere low. Sawyer Bardot hadn’t so much as glanced in Tiber’s direction yet. He has a sneaking suspicion that if he had, he wouldn’t have been so hasty in his desire to keep him safe. “I’m not going anywhere.” The alpha retorted, setting his shoulders with a soft crease in his brow. His objective would be to save as many of these people as possible, no matter their breed. If Sawyer was going to make that difficult for him, well… “ — Not gonna let these people die.” He’d nod, teeth bared, as he prepared to defend what was left of the bonfire’s patrons from another wave of undead.

It was true, Sawyer hadn’t so much as glanced in the direction of the person he was speaking to, really only giving them the common courtesy of human decency in warning them with something that they already knew. But, when he did turn his head for a moment to look at the patron, his heart clenched for a second — Tiberius Loche, one of the many creatures in Blackvale that Sawyer had to pleasure of trying to eradicate. He hadn’t had many interactions with the man, but he had with the sort and for him, that was enough to generalize the fact that he would rather see him thrown to the undead. But, at this point, getting rid of the decaying swine was their main priority — even if it meant being in arms with his natural born enemy.

“Well, neither am I, so I guess we’re going to have to stay out of each other’s way to get this shit done.” The man spoke, voice loud over the sound of the impending doom coming in their general direction — that, plus the sound of the screaming and crying of other Blackvale residents, and Sawyer’s eardrums were already beginning to hurt.

[sbardot-blog]

Where: The Cornfield.

Who: Anyone else who’s stuck there.

Zombies. You’ve got to be fucking kidding. As if we really needed more undead freaks in this town. These were Sawyer’s first immediate thoughts as he found himself backed into the field with a group of other bystanders. His hand had easily found the gun tucked into his waistband, the hunter knowing better than to leave his place without it. Always be prepared, he figured, even in the event that one of the supernatural freaks he so often wanted to kill stepped out of line just a tad too far. He had always been pretty good at deciphering whether or not someone was one of them, but now with the invasion of the undead, Sawyer hardly had to think twice about what was going on.

“Go, run, get down somewhere low. If this is a prank, someone’s getting marked whether they like it or not.” The man told the person standing next to him, not particularly concerned with keeping them calm as he lifted his gun. He was glad his aim had always been perfect, the practice drilled into him from the moment he could hold a gun without the help of his father — and, in moments like these, target practice was going to be a big heap of fun.

[sbardot-blog]

Where: The Ale House.

Who: Zachariah Kattalakis.

There is something sudden about the way Sawyer’s hair stands up on the back of his neck. One minute he is downing another shot of whiskey and the next he’s feeling his instincts kick in. What does this mean? Someone that he’s been on the watch for, someone that gets under his skin without almost any effort has decided to step in. He knows it’s a public place and people have the right to do whatever the hell they want, but nevertheless, his stomach churns in anticipation. In all fairness, there are a lot of people on Sawyer’s shit list — almost too many to count, but you bet your ass he keeps track of those he would rather see buried six feet under. Whether this was on paper or just mentally, it didn’t matter, so long as the tall man knew who he wanted dead and for what reason.

He gestures to the bartender for another round of drinks, dark hues moving from the screen in front of him to the general crowd to his left. Almost instantly, the man sees who has set off his internal radar — Zachariah Kattalakis. A groan escapes Sawyer’s lips, a hand finding his forehead as he rubs it in anticipation. It was common knowledge that the two didn’t get along, not only for the fact that Zachariah was supernatural but also because he was an absolute blowhard. At least, this was what Sawyer had determined, in the many instances they had run into each other.

He ducks his head easily and attempts to blend in with the crowd, but after a moment he feels a hand clamp down on his shoulder and he knows his night is about to get worse. “What do you want, Kattalakis?” Sawyer speaks, words slurred slightly as he has had one too many drinks himself.

[sbardot-blog]

erenkcya·:

“Well, it depends what you ask. Then that could very well lead to a lot of fun.” The wolf pushed, if only to watch the seemingly collected hunter squirm. Funny how much his distaste for her kind had shifted with a mere inclination towards sex. As her head tilted, she watched him carefully. Their proximity was evident by the way she could sense the heat radiate off his body, catch the slight hints of various colours within his gaze. Enough that she was assured that he felt uncomfortable or on edge by her presence. 

However, just as quickly, the male seems to cut off the tension by pushing himself away from their corner of the room and venturing around the area. Shifting her own body, she presses her back to the wall and watches him carefully. His question almost made her laugh, but she holds it to then lift a shoulder and let it fall. “Could have been me, could have been you. But I believe that it could have also been Mr. Sweeny making a grand exit. He was always one for dramatics, after all.”

There is an intricacy to the way Sawyer and Eren are watching each other, assessing the body language of the other, daring the cross the line just to see who would crack first. He knows better than to trust a woman with a pretty face, so instinctively, the man breaks the tension by allowing his feet to keep him idle — always keep moving, one of the many rules Sawyer had settled into over his lifetime. Her next words make the man nod as he knows she’s right, even though he won’t admit it. At this point, with the murder being so fresh, there were too many suspects to count — and in addition, no real leads. It was all up to the beholder at this moment.

“I know your type have a good sense of smell. Catch a whiff of anything or anyone?” He asks offhandedly, not making eye contact with her as he does so. There is purpose in the way Sawyer speaks, othering supernaturals as often as he can — making it a point to separate them from the general population in an effort to keep the line drawn.

[sbardot-blog]

mrdevlinclery·:

“Is there a reason you’re standing on my doorstep, bright and early, like the second coming himself?” The hunter’s voice echoed in response from behind the rich mahogany barrier of his front door, the familiarity of his friend’s timbre more than enough to prompt him to unhitch the lock and gesture for the other male to enter his home. “If you think I accept beer as payment, you’re only half-right.” Settling down at his kitchen table, the hunter continued toying with a knife laid out on its surface, though it was hardly a gesture of threatening proportions. Fingertips twisted the weapon between practiced digits, each one turning over the blade as if it were little more than a child’s toy. A habit, a necessity to keep himself moving at all costs. “You here for the Callen special or should I come up with some fun things just for you?”

“Your words, not mine, Clery.” Sawyer murmurs as he steps inside, allowing his friend to take the beer from him. “Don’t you worry, I wouldn’t jip you. Just being friendly.” He states simply, hands shifting to rest on his hips as they push his jacket out of the way comfortably. In his waistband, tucked neatly but within grabbing distance, is both a handgun and a knife — the essentials of not only a law enforcement officer but a man who has danced with death itself. If there is one thing Sawyer knows himself to be, it’s prepared. And right now, that’s exactly why he’s paying a trip to see his friend — he is in need of some new toys and knows Devlin is just the man to see about that.

“Some fun things. I’m heading out with Kit for open hunting season and need something new. Anything in mind?” His eyebrows raise in curiosity as he looks at the man, sizing him up unintentionally for a moment.

[sbardot-blog]

audchen·:

“Curious timing.” Audric repeated as if the words hadn’t flowed through his mouth first. The half of his face that wasn’t scarred turned towards the detective with a small indifferent shrug. Eyes taking a glossy far-off look. “A birthday party where he encloses everyone inside.” Audric murmured, “First glance a werewolf no doubt.. but a second glance.. Is it just as that? Or is that what we are supposed to think? Trap a house of monsters and animals, it would be hard to pinpoint the actual murderer. That’s what makes it a curious time.” Audric continued to scribble down on his notepad as he spoke, possibly letting the words he spoke go down on the paper in front of him. “If I had any insight, I would say it was someone that knew the plans of our dead mayor prior to the party.” Audric chimed in finishing the penmanship on the paper, before he finally regarded Sawyer with his entire face. Even the part of it that looked like something had tried to claw it off. “Body left on display, a grandeur sight. A symbol?” Audric rattled off as he made mental corrections to the notes he had.

Sawyer hardly flinches as the man exposes his scarred face to him. It was a sight to take in, that was for sure, but nothing the man hasn’t seen before — he has more than enough scars himself, as well, just not so prominent. The words falling from his mouth are more interesting than his facial deformity and, as his brows raise, Sawyer makes it known that his attention has been captured. “And who exactly would that be, huh?” He questions, allowing his hues to fall to the pen and paper the man is writing on. “The wife? Kids? Mistress? Scorned employee? There are too many possibilities.” Sawyer continues, voice low and gruff in case someone with curious ears is listening.

[sbardot-blog]

cecilyhale·:

Cecily rose from the floor and kicked the frayed edges of the rug back into place, then rubbed her hands on her jeans as if to get any dust from the creepy house off of her skin. What she really wanted to do was drown herself in a giant vat of Purell, but a hot shower at home would have to do. “Mhm. Told you.” She crossed back across the room towards the doorway from which they had entered, not allowing her eyes to slide back towards the sight in the foyer. Jesus, were they ever going to take that man down? “Well, I got what I came for. Good luck with whatever…this entails…” A hand gestured to no one thing in particular; Cecily was not easily made uncomfortable, but the detective was not exactly a friendly presence and she didn’t want to spend one more second there than she had to.

Sawyer manages to give the woman a nod, eyeing her easily as she moves across the room in an attempt to leave. He doesn’t necessarily blame her, the house does have a certain creep factor to it, which Sawyer can’t tell came before or after the death of the mayor. Either way, he isn’t overly keen on sticking around either and, once the woman is out of sight, he collects himself and goes back to his job. The sooner this shit is done, I’m out of here, he thinks.

But little does he know it will become much more extensive than he could have imagined.

// THE END //

[sbardot-blog]

cecilyhale·:

He trailed behind her almost silently, though Cecily could feel his eyes following her with every move that she made. She wasn’t completely comfortable with such a thing - that would be strange - but she had gotten used to being watched, whether the offending party was suspicious of her for good reason or because of something she had said or done to draw attention to her. In this situation for Sawyer, it was probably all of those things combined. His answer to her question wasn’t exactly one that landed easily or one that carried an air of innocence with it. “Well that doesn’t exactly put the mind at ease, now does it?” Her tone was light and amused, but the actual feeling behind it was anything but.

Finally, Cecily spotted the bracelet caught on the edge of the rug on the far side of the room. Crouching down, she reached for it and carefully detangled it, then flashed him a triumphant smile as she slipped it back on her wrist and rose her arm in the air. “Found it!”

Sawyer can’t help the smirk that is forming on his lips at her response. He has always enjoyed making people wonder about him and his motives, though in most cases it is as clear as day what purpose he is holding. But to him, when interacting with the very things he kills for fun, Sawyer knows better than to lay all of his dirty laundries in front of them. “That’s the point.” He murmurs to himself, hands still being stuffed into his pockets as he looks around lazily with the woman for her bracelet. It was a bracelet, correct? Sawyer has long since forgotten the real reason for meandering around.

“That was easy enough.” He quips, eyes wandering to her wrist as she lifts it into the air, a gesture he had seen many times before.

[sbardot-blog]

kbarncs·:

Kit let a sly smile tug at the corner of his lips, bringing his beer to his lips to stifle a small chuckle, shuffling over to the side to give the man some room beside him, “You are gettin’ pretty old for this,” the southern man teased although lightheartedly while he fished a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, popping on in his mouth while offering the box to Sawyer while he lit it. “Oh from Devlin? he’s got good stuff, whaddya get?” the night was just creeping in, the moon hidden behind some clouds, nearly to midnight. The wolves would be forced to shift in another hour, they had another little bit to kill before the real hunting began. “Yo, at the Mayor’s place a couple days ago. You got a good look around, you saw the corpse right? Y’think a Werewolf did it or somethin else entirely?” 

“Thirty-five isn’t that old, you dick.” Sawyer quips, a smirk hovering over his mouth as he takes a drink from his beer. The taste is familiar and brings warmth to the inside of the man’s chest, a feeling he enjoys most comfortably as he shifts in position. Almost upon instinct, he takes a cigarette from his friend and lights it, letting it rest between his lips as he listens to the man beside him ask a question in curiosity. “Take a look for yourself.” He gestures, open palm pointing in the direction of the bag that is filled with an assortment of things that will get the job done. “Decent price too, nice kid. Stares a bit into your soul when he’s lookin’ at you but I figure he’s just clockin’ you.”

A brow raises, chin tilting as he nods and takes his cigarette between his fingers. A flippant hand gesture is made before he speaks. “Could’ve been. Probably was based on the marks we found, but nothing’s been decided yet. You guys will be the first to know when it has been.” Under the radar, of course, but that much usually goes unspoken between the hunters.

[sbardot-blog]

cecilyhale·:

Her head cocked slightly to the side and she looked back at him briefly to acknowledge his comment, morbid but somehow a bit amusing. “A valid distinction. Though I’m sure Mrs. Sweeny will keep some things around. If she decides to stay here, that is.” Cecily couldn’t imagine being able to keep living in the same house where someone you loved was killed. That idea briefly brought her thoughts back to Thomas’ wife and children, all of whom must have carried on in the family home after his death…what other choice would they have had?

Pulling herself out of her own head, Cecily began to to walk around the room, scanning every surface for any sight of the bracelet while also trying to see if she could catch a whiff of her own scent. Who would have thought that being turned into an actual monster would come with its advantages? She finally caught a hint of it, but continued to make a show of searching. “You been doing this a long time?” Cecily asked casually, throwing another look over her shoulder. “Looking at dead people, figuring out who killed them?”

Sawyer nods in agreement, realizing that the department would probably get complaints from the woman in the next few months about kids eyeballing the property a little too much as they passed by on their bikes — trying to get a good look at the murder house, he assumes. He knows this is a likely thing to happen as, at one point in time, the younger community members would pass by the Bardot cabin with watchful eyes, trying to get a glimpse of different weapons and their assorted contraptions. Near the end of his life, Sawyer’s father had been a bit of a spectacle, the old fool from the middle of the woods now being on his deathbed was something of a sight for sore eyes.

Nevertheless, the man comes back to reality, Cecily’s voice drawing his attention away from his lingering thoughts. “Yes and no.” He begins, vague and understated at best. “Only recently made it official.” Again, vague, but the man decides it isn’t best to explain his history with murder at this moment — especially not to a stranger, and even more so not to a stranger that was a monster in her many forms.

[sbardot-blog]

erenkcya·:

A brow perks, if only for a moment, when she noticed the male’s eyes wander over her form. Perhaps she could have mistaken it as more than a simple once over in the terms of whether he believed she could have strung a man up from the ceiling in her skintight dress. But she didn’t buy it for a minute. A sly grin framed her lips as she inched closer to him in pure curiosity. Maybe she enjoyed testing the distaste of the supernatural and how far it went in correlation to pure lust.

“You may want to narrow your question down. Are you asking me what I was doing in the woods right before the party, or when I was at home in my shower?” The brunette folded her arms then and narrowed her eyes. Though she had gotten significantly stronger, it still bewildered her that he thought she could muster enough energy or care to make a show out of such a conquest. After all, she had only been spending the better part of these last few months fighting herself tooth and nail to ensure that she didn’t awake to a mangled form beneath her.

“I could but that wouldn’t be any fun.” Sawyer teases, a brow raising in unison with her own, pen tapping gently against the lined paper in front of him. He knows that flirting is dangerous territory with a woman like this, his sworn enemy, both in life and in death and yet he finds his curiosity getting the better of him for a single moment. She steps toward him and his body tenses up ever so slightly, only enough for him to know that his instincts are kicking in and that everything in his body is telling him that this is a bad idea — not just being in a room alone with Eren, but enjoying it as well.

And so, Sawyer straightens his posture and puts his notebook away, tucking his hands into his pockets as he begins moving about the room again. His hues wander over dusty books, pages not having been touched for quite some time, decorated ornaments and assorted knick-knacks being the next to catch his eye. Then, after a moment, he turns back to Eren and watches her face. “Do you know anybody who could have done this?” He asks simply, voice low in nature but not on purpose.

[sbardot-blog]

cecilyhale·:

It sounded like a dumb excuse, but she actually had lost a piece of jewelry the night before. She had almost convinced herself to just forget about it considering that going to find it would a) require going back to the house where the mayor was, for some reason, still hanging from the ceiling and b) certainly look suspicious. The bracelet was somewhat special to Cecily, however, having been a gift from a friend who had long since passed away, and so she had made the decision to brave the crazy mayor’s home right in the midst of the investigation.

“I was in the dining room most of the evening. Before…this…happened.” Cecily waved her hand at the scene without look back towards it again. “May I?” She carefully stepped over the police tape that covered the open doorway, anxious to have the body out of sight. Eyes scoured the room, full of knick-knacks, and she groaned. “How the hell do people live like this?”

Sawyer gestures to the smaller woman to lead the way, knowing in his heart of hearts to never have his back turned to one of them. Not that it would matter in the long run given his reflexes and otherwise sharpened abilities, but on a night like tonight, the man decides it’s easier to play it safe than sorry. He watches her as she moves, calculating the sway of her hips, the flippant motion of her hand as she walks away from the scene of the crime — she’s relaxed, otherwise unphased by such a sight.

Not suspicious yet, Sawyer thinks.

“He was a crackpot, we all know that.” The man begins, stepping into the room with the woman as she comments on their surroundings. Sawyer has to admit she was right, the place was cluttered and oddly decorated, not exactly his taste but he can see how a man like Sweeney would enjoy living here — that, or it was his wife that did all of the interior design, which makes even more sense to the man. “Did live. Not anymore.” He states simply with a hand gesture to the general area that they were now inhabiting. “See anything?”

[sbardot-blog]

erenkcya·:

“I’m not all up on the history,” the wolf admitted as she tilted her head to peer at the male. With her newfound life as a wolf and the realization that such things as vampires and witches existed — learning about town history had been a little further down on the list of things to read up about. However, she had known about the existing and recent war from her pack who had done their best to steer her in the right direction. Though the war was meant to be hers due to her all too recent affiliations, she felt no despise or ill-will towards anyone. Not when she was too focused on the foreign beast within her chest that she had not yet learnt to tame. But the heat that seemed to radiate off the male was enough to keep her attention on him as she’d come to note that his regards to her were different than hers to him.

Brow rose when he plucked out a pad and pen, at the ready for any information he needed to know. “There was an hum of sorts that people referred to being an enticing force that had brought people to the party. I didn’t feel it, but it’s what I heard. It kind of explained why people didn’t leave after finding out they were suckered into a game of murder mystery. Besides that, there was a lot of speculation about Mr and Mrs. Sweeny’s love life. Which may be typical given the fact we were all wandering their home. Apart from that, everything seemed relatively normal until the public hanging happened.”

Sawyer eyes the woman, dark hues flickering over the colorful dress she is wearing. For a single moment, he wonders what it would be like to take it off of her, but the thought is immediately extinguished as he remembers who this woman is — both in the dead of night and in relation to his friend. And, as she begins speaking, his attention is pulled completely and entirely, eyes moving from the blue ink being scribbled across his notepad to the woman in question.

“What were you doing before the party began?” He asks simply, hushed voice standing out boldly against the quiet backdrop of their conversation. The rest of the party goers seem to be either shuffled out of the surrounding area or in question from fellow officers, which makes sense to Sawyer, as the murder was still fresh on everybody’s mind. How ironic, he thinks for a moment. The old crackpot fakes a murder for a gag, then ends up with a noose around his neck. Karma’s a bitch.

[sbardot-blog]

cecilyhale·:

A smirk spread across her lips, his statement more accurate than he could possibly know. “I’ll be sure to be on my best behavior, then. I wouldn’t do very well in jail.” It was ironic, really, that Cecily had turned out to be somewhat of a troublemaker, or at the very least a rule-breaker - that was not how she was raised. Expectations had been set for her like before she was even conceived, as was the way in such a strict society. Cecily would marry young, she would provide her husband with a brood of children to be proud of, and she would tend to all of their needs until they were married off or she died, whatever came first. She was never supposed to become a woman with the will to fight in her, or a woman with a manipulative streak.

Her eyes followed his for a second, catching a glimpse of the body for just a few seconds before she had to look away. “I think  I lost a bracelet last night,” she continued, explaining her presence at the scene of the crime. “Dainty little thing, gold. Have you seen it?”

A bracelet. Sure. Sawyer had been to enough crime scenes and talked to enough witnesses in his time at the department to know that dropping these kinds of hints with a face like that was subtle and smart. She was giving herself an alibi, likely a true one as the woman didn’t strike him off the bat as someone who could commit such a murder, but an alibi nonetheless. She was good, skipped right to the point and made no issues dancing around the subject at hand.

And so, Sawyer decided to play along.

“Whereabouts do you think you lost it?” He asked, raising both eyebrows at the woman and gesturing to the space beside him as though asking her to lead the way. He was genuinely curious as to how this was going to play out, if she was just bluffing or if she was being serious, and if she was what else he might find along the way to find the supposed missing item.

[sbardot-blog]

kbarncs·:

It was a full moon that night, as it was creeping closer to midnight, the moon still hidden behind some grey clouds that blocked the starry night sky. Kit sat on the back of his truck, case of beer beside him. Shot gun leaning up against the side of the truck, looking out in the distance at the approaching pair of headlights that was pulling up slow on the gravel road. As the figure stepped out of the truck, Kit flashed a smile. Picking out one of the beer cans from it’s pack and tossing it towards the approaching man, “Howdy,” he greeted unable to see his face against the backlight of the car but knowing precisely who it was, “Nice of ya to come out ‘n join me, friend,” they were out on some back country road close to one of the small sheep farms in the area. Some might say it was pretty ballsy of either up them to be out at night during a full moon. With the Mayoral event ending so poorly, Kit figured he’d might as well take out as many savage werewolves as he could while the moon was full. Werewolves spoke to much when they were human, it was a lot easier to take them down when they’re lunging for your throat. “I set up some traps we can check later,” he lifted his beer to his lips to take a quick swing. “Unless you’re here to tell me to go home, cause then you can just fuck right off.” @sbardot

“Don’t be a motherfucker. In what world would you catch me comin’ to tell you to go home?” Sawyer spoke as he caught the can of beer easily, reflexes as sharp as they had been throughout his entire life. He swung his bag onto the back of the truck and took a seat next to the man, cracking open the beer before he spoke again. “Just bought some new shit off Devlin there. Figured tonight would be a good night to give them a test run.” Kit and Sawyer had made a habit out of posting up on the night of a full moon, much like humans who went hunting for a turkey to eat or deer to kill — the men would sit, watch, be patient and if they were lucky, they’d find a target. Though, he knew luck wasn’t necessary when it came to the two of them, as Kit was as seasoned as Sawyer was.