Meetings

Who: Sophie and Grayson
Where: The old house
When: Afternoon

There were definite perks to being a werewolf. Despite the bright light of the sun, its heat couldn't chase away the biting chill in the air, and as he padded out of the trees and towards the house, Grayson Saunders was most certainly grateful for the thick pelt that kept out the worst of the cold. The ground was cool and damp underfoot, the snow shifting around the pads of his paws. It meant leaving tracks that he wasn't comfortable leaving in his wake, but when he followed them back out again, he would do his best to erase them as he went, a task much easier accomplished in human form than wolf, annoyingly, unless he wanted to do his best impression of a Disney character and attempt to use his tail. His youngest brother, Darrien, had always claimed it was possible, but Grayson wouldn't be wasting his time in making the effort. Briefly, the thought distracted him from his task and he almost laughed before he pulled himself together and performed one last sweep of the area with his eyes. The girl was gone, at least for now, and while she was away, Grayson wanted to take a closer look, which meant coming out of the cover of the trees and exposing himself, but if the scents in the air were any indication, it was worth the risk. The musk of werewolf hung in the air around the house, becoming increasingly stronger as he grew closer, and when he sniffed along the path, he confirmed his suspicions; the girl seemed to carry the scent as well, the same one that hung around the majority of the property. So either she was a wolf herself, or she was close enough with other lycanthropes that she carried their scent wherever she went.

Whatever the case, Grayson wouldn't be finding out today. This was strictly recon, look but don't touch, and he intended to be long gone by the time the girl came back. In the meantime, he would do a full circle of the property; he would leave his own scent behind, but again, that was a risk he was willing to take. New in town, he didn't have any contacts or allies, and the first order of business was getting the lay of the land, figuring out who he could and couldn't trust, where he could and couldn't go. This was just the first place on a long, long list of locations. The lone male had decided that starting out here was better than dropping himself down in the middle of Marquette proper and ending up losing himself as a result. As he worked his way along the side of the house, he pulled in all the scents he could decipher, picking out those that he wanted and putting aside those that weren't needed or necessary. The one downside to focusing so intently on investigation was that everything in the greater area seemed to fade away; Grayson was so intent on snooping around that he wasn't paying attention to anything beyond his immediate surroundings.

Sophie had been out at Billy's old house dropping off supplies. Mostly the storage was done now - she was nearly happy with the place. People might say she was paranoid, but she'd prefer to be prepared than caught off guard, and when Oz had suggested kitting the place out for emergencies, well, she'd just gone with that, pushing it to the limit as she always did. But, having dropped off her last box, she'd headed out, back towards town - until, at least, she'd realised out on the highway, that she'd forgotten her purse and turn back, doing a u-turn and heading back down the track towards the house. Pulling up in front of the door, she zipped up her coat again and, turning off the engine, but leaving the keys in the ignition, she got out of the car and headed towards the house again.

She stopped as she caught sight of the clear prints in the snow, and frowned. Wolf prints. Sure, they were out in the middle of nowhere, but she wasn't used to that - at least, not whilst she was alone. "J?" she called, to the world at large. She'd left him at home. Of course, that didn't mean he hadn't run out here, but she hadn't been expecting him.

So caught up in tracking the scents around the perimeter of the house, Grayson didn't hear an engine pulling up the trail leading to the house, and it was only when the voice called out that he realised time had either flown by much quicker than he'd realised or she'd come back earlier than expected. Neither was particularly good. He was at the rear of the house, and he could smell the water from a lake off behind the building through the trees; to get past her, he would either have to loop around a majority of the surrounding land to get back to where he'd started and stashed his belongings, or bolt past her and hope she wasn't a wolf herself and couldn't give chase.

Of course, there was a third option, one that he found himself considering. There was a question in her voice, one that didn't sound hostile, it was more surprise than anything. He could only guess that 'J' was the wolf whose scent he could catch around the building. Did that mean she wasn't a threat? No, not really, Grayson didn't know anything at this point, but he'd gotten a good look at her. She wasn't large, not even for a woman, and if she was a wolf, he could only assume she wasn't especially big in that form either. Assumptions and nothing more, but if things got violent, he could hold his own. So, with that in mind, he stepped around the rear corner of the wooden house and padded through the deep snow lining the side wall until he could poke his dark head around the front, catching sight of her quickly and easily. He tried to keep his posture steady, non-confrontational; if she was a wolf, this was her territory and he was the intruder. He had to play things carefully.

Sophie caught sight of the wolf and stepped back, wary. The only thing she knew was that this? Wasn't her husband - she didn't recognise the unfamiliar wolf. And even though they didn't normally get wolves this close to the house, she knew it was far from normal habitation and it probably wasn't totally unheard of. She tried to assess how far she was from the front door, without exuding panic or fear. She knew that wolves could sense that kind of thing. She tried to take on a non-threatening posture, calling on everything she'd read about behaviour over the years, trying to understand her mate.

Catching sight of her retreat, no matter how slight, Grayson stepped forward automatically before he restrained himself and his predator instincts. That small action was enough to tell him that this girl was no werewolf, despite carrying the scent of one. That meant she was social with them, or at least one of them. Interesting. In his birth pack, humans and wolves had remained separate, had kept clear lines as and when they could, but it seemed that that wasn't the case here, or at least not with this girl. Keeping his eyes on her, he studied her body language. She'd been around wolves, that much was clear, doing her best to keep everything neutral. Interesting. Carefully, Grayson padded forward, revealing his whole body, still keeping his gaze on her, trying to tell her without words that he was no wild wolf, and she didn't have to worry about provoking him with small actions.

Sophie held out a hand, palm forward, a stop sign, right hand, around waist-height. She kept her head down slightly, eyes to one side, though she kept the wolf in her sight as she took a step back toward the house. "Easy," she said, quietly, still not knowing what she was facing here, but at least the wolf didn't seem overly agressive. Maybe it would be alright.

Clearly she had done her homework; she was keeping things small and simple, moving slowly and gently, avoiding sudden motions and actions. But he wasn't a wolf, not really, even though he had the same instincts and urges. As if to show her that it was all right, he flicked his tail just once, not a wag like a dog, but like a wave of sorts to say 'don't worry'. He wasn't going to attack her. From what he could tell, she was no threat. That meant she was, potentially, an ally, but he had no way of knowing that without speaking to her. That was the first big roadblock here. His clothes were stuffed in a bag off in the trees, and he would need to lope off out of sight in order to get to them, but he did want to talk to this girl, at least reassure her that she didn't have to worry about him, that the wolf she knew shouldn't worry either, that he wasn't a danger to either of them. But how to do that with a human? He tipped his ears forward and dropped his bottom jaw to loll his tongue, to try and appear harmless. Then again, that also showed off the canines that any wolf possessed, so maybe it would work against him in the end.

It would have helped if Sophie had known whether she was dealing with a wolf, or a werewolf, but she'd never worked out if there was any way of knowing the difference. And, honestly, she'd had little experience of weres beyond Oz, who'd chosen to make his pack with humans, rather than others like him. She continued to back up until she felt the porch railings behind her and then she stopped, because she had to, keeping an eye on the wolf, watching - noting that he wasn't coming any further, the movement of the tail, the tongue hanging out - that, at least, was familiar. Oz tended toward that when he was happy. She wasn't so put off by the canines, it calmed her a little.

Well, she seemed to have calmed down a little. Maybe having the front door at her back was comforting to her. Even if he had been in human form, he wouldn't have asked, it would have been rude and too forward. But he wanted her to wait, he wanted to see if he could talk with her. There was only one way he could show her, without question, that he was a werewolf, and with that in mind, he stepped forward slowly until she had a good view of him again, keeping his distance from the porch so as not to seem confrontational, and then he stretched one paw forward and put it down in the blanket of undisturbed snow between them. This would look odd, he realised, and the movements were somewhat awkward for a quadruped, but lowering his eyes from her face, not worried about forfeiting any kind of challenge, he shifted his weight, shuffled his position, and with some difficulty but a definite feeling of triumph when he was finished, he lifted his foreleg and put it back down, lifting her gaze to hers again, stepping back to reveal the 'W' he had carved into the snow for her.

Sophie watched, confused at first, then catching on. Okay - so that answered that question. She relaxed - but only slightly. She still didn't know who this werewolf was, after all. And there was no written rule they had to be universally friendly. And she was miles from anywhere, by herself. "Right - so you're a were. Did you want anything? This is my house." My territory. She didn't add that though - she wasn't going to do that, she simply wanted to establish some boundaries, and a possession claim was at least honest. "It would be easier if you would change - I have blankets inside if you wanted," she added.

Confidence, even if it hadn't been immediate, was something that Grayson recognised and respected. He dipped his head, almost as if to show that, as if to acknowledge her newfound boldness. He could also respect her claim to the house, that it was her territory and she had every right to defend it and dictate the laws and boundaries. Even if she wasn't a wolf, and the rules didn't necessarily apply to her, it was her right. In response to her statement, he glanced back towards the trees, towards her again, rose from his haunches and sounded a low 'wuff'. He wanted to change, but he needed to disappear for a little while. If she was willing to wait, he would be back, and soon.

Sophie watched as the wolf took off and figured he'd be back. She waited until he'd disappeared entirely into the treeline, then turned, heading into the house. She went through to the kitchen, put on some coffee, got out a couple of mugs - and crossed to the locked cupboard on the kitchen wall. Opening it, she took out a small, discrete silver-bladed knife and slipped it into her pocket. Oz insisted on silver weaponry in the house. He was a cursed werewolf to his soul, even though their bond meant she could control his beast form, and even though the trials he'd put himself through, that had almost killed him, meant that he had his own form of control that brought him nearer to a born were than a cursed one these days. Some habits were too hard to break.

That done, she went back out to await the return of the stranger. She wished him no harm, but she always found it better to be prepared.

Getting back to his starting point was easy enough, and now that he'd been discovered, he didn't bother keeping to his former tracks, didn't worry about hiding his prints. He simply loped into the trees and found his bag, transforming to human shape and pulling his clothes out of his bag and donning them quickly, finishing up with the thick, practical coat that would have to do in lieu of the wolfen pelt that he had been grateful for so recently. Running a hand through his hair as if to get imaginary flecks of snow out of it, he picked up the bag in one hand and headed back out of the trees, giving the area a swift once-over with his eyes before he caught sight of the girl on the porch, just where he had left her. Keeping his approach steady, unhurried and just touching at casual without being cocky, he stopped a few feet away from the bottom step leading up to the porch, lifting his gaze to hers. She had the higher ground, and since it was technically her territory, he let her keep it. "Sorry about that." He hadn't intended to make her uncomfortable, he hadn't intended for her to see him at all. That had been a mistake on his part. By now, he really ought to know better.

"We don't get many wolves around here," Sophie said, glad he'd stayed at the bottom of the steps for now. She looked him up and down, not recognising the man, even now he was in human form. She wondered if she'd just missed him - there were a lot of werewolves in the area, after all, and not all of them wandered into town very much. And it wasn't like she'd really gotten out much recently. The other alternative was that he was just new in town. Either or, she didn't know him, so she left the comment at that, for now.

It was no wonder she didn't recognise him, being new in town and all. Already he'd ascertained that there were plenty of other weres in town, which was why he'd decided to start on the outskirts and work his way in, to try and make things easier for himself. He'd come out earlier in the day and watched, trying to figure out the habits of the occupants, and when he'd figured out she was alone, he had just waited for her to leave before emerging to snoop around, to put it bluntly. "I couldn't smell many in the area," he agreed, keeping his gaze on her rather than looking around to unnecessarily emphasise his statement. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Wolves wandering around the house tend to do that. Especially when I don't recognise them," Sophie told him. "Are you new around here?" she added, figuring she may as well come out and ask. Oz would want to know anyhow.

"I am." He didn't really need to confirm what she had no doubt already figured out for herself, but he saw no harm in removing the doubt. Maybe if he was honest with her, he could begin to build the foundation of an alliance. She might look young, but that didn't mean anything. Some of the other wolves in his birth pack had thought he was too young to lead, and yet he had. "I've only been here a couple of days. You know a lot of wolves in the area?"

"Not really. A few," Sophie said, trying to decide whether to trust this man or not. But, she had silver in her pocket, that was something. She made a decision. "I have a pot of coffee on, if you'd like a cup," she offered, gesturing to the door.

A few was more than he could say. Grayson hadn't been truly social or acquainted with any other wolves in what felt like a long time now, something that was starting to grate on the inner animal. Wolves weren't 'designed' to be by themselves, and it was starting to affect him, he knew. Hesitating partly to try and show that he didn't have any ill intentions, he responded by asking, "J won't mind?" That was a guess; for all he knew, 'J' was a pet dog that had the tendency to dash off, and that was who she had really been calling, but it didn't hurt to make assumptions every now and again.

"He's probably want to know why I've come home smelling of a strange wolf," Sophie admitted. "But since I'd tell him I met another werewolf anyway, he'd want to know details, so better I ahve some to give him." She watched the hesitation and nodded. "You don't have to come in if you don't want to," she added, taking a step back toward the door.

Grayson nodded as well. She was being honest with him, and he appreciated that. So far, they weren't off to a bad start, and really, it showed not only confidence and courage in inviting a strange werewolf into her home, but it also -- in its own way -- displayed trust. Either she had a reason not to be afraid of him, or she believed the signs he had given her that were intended to show her she had nothing to fear. Either way, he finally said, "All right. Thanks," and stepped up onto the porch, keeping his pace steady as before to make sure he didn't startle or unnerve her. There was no sense in intimidating her now that they seemed to have made some progress. But before he went into her home, the home of another wolf, there was probably something else he should get out of the way. "My name's Grayson."

"Sophie - Sophie Osbourne," she told him, using her full name now that she could. It sounded strange, but right at the same time. She hadn't been married for long. And, weirdly, it brought with it an inner awareness of the ring she wore on her left finger. She might hae only been married for weeks, but she'd worn the rng for years. In fact, she was incapable of taking it off - a physical marker for the spell that bound her to the werewolf who was her husband now. "Come in," she formally invited, stepping inside the house.

The place was equipped. The decoration was nothing special, but the house itself had been prepared. All the windows on the lower floor were now barred and there were boxes piled up - not in the hallway, but in the dining room to the left of the hall and the living room to the right. The kitchen was down the corridor, past the stairs, in front of them, and that was the direction Sophie took.

As he stepped into the house after her, silently appreciating that she allowed him to follow and therefore didn't run the risk of making his inner wolf uncomfortable by having a stranger at his back. So far, he didn't sense that she was any kind of threat to him, but it was the little things that ended up meaning a lot; Grayson was very much in tune with his animal side, and he responded to all kinds of triggers that some weres wouldn't. When they made it into the kitchen, the werewolf taking note of small things as he went such as the layout and the overlook look of the place, including the bars, he realised he'd only half introduced himself. She'd given him her full name, taking that step, so it was only fair and right to respond in kind. "Grayson Saunders," he said despite the delay, only hoping that it didn't come across as strange.

Sophie didn't stop until she was in the kitchen, and busied herself with getting mugs. "So, where are you from, Grayson Saunders?" she asked, her northern English accent showing through, those these days it had at least a hint of an American twng about it. "And how do you take your coffee?"

"Black will be fine, thanks." He had intentionally answered the second question first, giving himself time to judge just whether or not he should answer her other query. There was no real harm in it, and it was only the touch of paranoia that followed him everywhere that made him hesitate. Taking his mind off the bars he'd seen on the windows, he threw off that doubt as best he could, and said, "I'm from Denver, originally. And you; England, right?"

"Right, England - though I've been here for a while," Sophie said, fixing him his coffee and offering it over before she'd even begun to make her own. She gestured to the kitchen table. "Sit, please," she told him, being the good hostess.

Again, Grayson nodded, setting his now-empty bag down in order to take the mug she offered him. At her indication, he then set it down on the table so he could take off his jacket before he sat down. He hardly needed it inside the house, and keeping it on would make it seem like he was uncomfortable; while he didn't want to give the false impression that he felt perfectly at home in her house -- her territory -- he didn't want to seem on edge at all. After he sat down, he turned his mug a little for no real reason. "You're probably wondering what I was doing sniffing around your house."

Sophie fixed her coffee, and then joined him at the table. "The thought had occurred, yes," she admitted, taking a sip of her drink. "Like I said, we don't get many, well, of anything out here - wolves or people. Not this close." She left it at that, giving him the opening to tell her, without pinning him down with a direct question. She preferred to skirt round issues - she knew that she tended towards being misunderstood and misinterpreted if she got into specifics. She just wasn't very good with that kind of thing.

His smile was quiet and subtle as she confirmed what had already been pretty obvious. Again he turned his mug on the table, stopping when the handle was within easy reach of his left hand. "I don't have any evil plans at all, if that's what you're worried about." Maybe it was a joke and maybe it wasn't, considering his tone was so level it was hard to tell. "As you already figured out, I'm new in town. I'm just trying to figure out what's what." And obviously, first on his list had been identifying other wolves and possible packs. "I smelled werewolf, so I came to check it out."

"You asked me if I was wondering - I think most people would. And we're pretty far out," Sophie pointed out to him, not rising to his quasi-joke. "When did you arrive in town - before or after the full moon?" she asked, wondering if he knew about the attacks that had gone on, everything surrounding that. Wondering if she should actually warn him that people right now were liable to be skittish about werewolves.

"After," he responded without delay. She clearly wasn't in the mood to dance around the issue, and given the way he'd introduced himself to her, he felt the least he could do to 'make amends' was do this her way. At least for now. There might come a time in the very near future where he wouldn't be comfortable with that any longer, but for now there was no harm in it. "Why do you ask?"

"Because there were a round of attacks before the full moon," Sophie said, taking another sip of her coffee. "In the parks, woods surrounding town - injuries mostly. And then, with the full moon, those injured people? Cursed weres. Running riot around town." She paused. "Now you have full form, so I'm supposing that you were born were? But if you're going to be around here, you should bear in mind that feelings are running high right now: a lot of people got hurt that night. And there are probably a lot of hunters in town at the moment, and I doubt some of them would stop and ask questions about your heritage. I know that someone went through the hospital the day after the full moon and anyone that was there? That had been attacked night of the full moon? Is now in the morgue. We're assuming that's the work of a hunter." Her voice was tight, but she knew how upset Oz had been about everything - he'd been on edge ever since then, harder to talk to even than usual, but she'd never been very good at that. It didn't mean that it didn't affect her though, though she did her utmost to hide it behind a mask of cool reserve.

When Sophie started to explain about the attacks, Grayson's interest in his coffee evaporated completely, and his blue eyes met hers across the table, the werewolf giving her his full attention. At her guess about his being a born were, he nodded his head to give her confirmation, not wanting to interrupt her in the middle of her flow. If he could learn something valuable, then he didn't want to butt in at all and risk missing out on something that could save him hassle later on. Propping his elbows on the table when she was done, he knotted his hands in front of his mouth lightly for a few moments, absorbing and processing everything she had told him. Hunters in town? Fantastic. That really was the last thing he needed, especially given how comfortable he was with his wolf form and how prone he was to making use of it. Clearly, until this mess died down and faded to the back of people's memories, he would have to be careful when and where he used his abilities. "Nobody has any clues about who's behind the original attacks?" Grayson had to assume the answer was no or she would have hinted at it to begin with, but in situations like this, it never hurt to have all the facts rather than vague ones.

Sophie shook her head. "No - we don't know. We're assuming bitten, because they spread lycanthropy to the injured people, clearly. But the attacks all happened prior to the full moon. Which meant either someone was highly out of control, or they were forcing the change somehow. I'm not sure which one worries me more. There've been no attacks since the full moon though. Could be that whoever it was has caused enough damage and moved on - or could be they were taken down by one of the hunters in town." Sophie didn't like any of the options here, but she was trying to see all the possibilities - you couldn't be prepared if you couldn't see and there'd been enough shit in this town lately, that she was done playing. She was actively preparing for the very worst life could throw at them.

Grayson knew all about 'cursed' werewolves, not that he particularly liked the title, and he also knew that it was possible for them to change if they were pushed to it, whether physically or emotionally. Already in his head he was figuring out just how much time there was until the next full moon and whether or not he could figure something out before that point. "Or they're just waiting, letting things cool down before they do it all over again." It was sort of a grim thing to say, especially to someone he had only just met, but she knew more than he did and if she was willing to talk about it, then he appreciated a sounding board or sorts to bounce his thoughts off; this was something he needed to know about, if only because it affected him as it affected all other werewolves in town. Taking his elbows from the tabletop, he leaned his shoulder blades against the back of the chair, expression thoughtful. "I guess everyone just has to wait and see, right?"

Sophie nodded. "That's also a possibility - none of them are good ones, but what's a 'good' possibility when there's a situation like this? It could even be a pack of rogues, who knows? The one thing that is for sure is that it gives all lycanthropes a bad name - it's dangerous for everyone," she told him, though she was sure that he was intelligent enough to get that point. She sighed slightly, shaking her head, moving on a little. "Are you alone here? Or did you come with a pack?" she asked, knowing full well how incapable her husband was of being without one. He needed people, he near enough collected them to fulfill that need.

His nod was one of agreement and he sat forward again, movements steady, picking up his mug and sipping the coffee within it. Every idea they had bounced back and forth were possibilities, it had to be said, and as Sophie had already stated, none of them were good ones. Clearly she was close to at least one werewolf; he could hear in her voice that this was having an affect on her too, and she wanted the matter resolved. Grayson noted that away, unsure as to whether or not it would be important in the future. The change of subject was welcome, even if the recent events hadn't really impacted his life yet. "I came alone." He set his mug back on the table, having already decided that it wouldn't hurt to share information with her. It would help with the whole trust issue, after all. "I had a pack in Denver, but it disbanded."

"That... must be hard," she offered, trying to choose her words carefully, not wanting to offend. She seemed to have a talent for that at times, so she always attempted to watch herself. Usually she did alright - it was when her temper was up that she forgot herself.

For a few moments, Grayson didn't move, hand still gripping the mug, eyes on the coffee it contained. Finally he breathed in and said, "That was a few years ago, but... yeah. It is." He could have denied it, but he didn't see the point. Even if she couldn't detect a lie like a lycanthrope could, what could he possibly gain from feigning indifference? He had been born into that pack, after all, and losing it had near enough killed him.

"I'm sorry," she told him, expressing her regret at his loss. "There's quiet a community here, lots of werewolves - I could put you in touch with someone who knows more of them, if you'd be interested." She smiled slightly, realising that dancing round the relationship here was only going to get so far - this guy already knew she lived with a werewolf. "J - though, I'd call him Oz if I were you. If you're interested..."

He hadn't admitted the truth to her in order to get her pity, but he nodded his appreciation all the same. Grayson had already figured out for himself that there were a lot of werewolves here in Marquette, and as she made her offer, he lifted his eyes to hers once again and considered her. It was a genuine offer, one that she was presenting to him sincerely, and for a time he was silent, as if weighing the pros and cons. Finally, he said, somewhat quietly, "I'd appreciate that." If she was involved with a werewolf in any way, then she would know that they didn't do well on their own. The longer Grayson spent without a pack, the more chance there was of it affecting him irreperably.

Sophie stood, crossing to the phone, hanging on the kitchen wall. She flipped open the little book that sat on a shelf just beneath, looking through the row upon row of neatly scribed numbers until she found the new entry - Oz' untraceable number he'd picked up for trying to help deal with the latest crisis. It was merely down as 'phone' as an entry. She copied it over onto a piece of paper, just the number, no name - and had to hope that he wouldn't mind her taking that chance and putting a name to the number. Crossing back to the table, she handed it over.

Though he watched her while she retrieved the phone number, he didn't make it obvious that he was doing so. After all, even humans could sense when they had eyes on their back, and it wasn't a pleasant sensation for anyone who became aware of it. It was unnerving, and it made most people uncomfortable. Since she was doing everything in her power to help him, extending an olive branch as it were, he wanted to be gracious about it as best he could. That piece of paper was accepted with a quiet but sincere, "Thanks," and he looked the number over once before folding it neatly so he could slip it into his wallet where it would be safe. "You're sure he won't mind?"

"He won't mind - and I'll warn him to expect your call," Sophie told him. After all, if there as a sudden horrific panic at the idea, they could always ditch the phone and start again. That was easy enough to do. Might set him back with contacts, but helping local weres had been the aim of the game in the first place, So8phie's only concern had been the giving of the name, seeing as how she'd let loose his initial and her surname. She could have been more cautious, her paranoia told her.

If nothing else, if there was another round of attacks, he could attempt to ally himself with Oz -- or J, whatever his name was -- and wouldn't be completely alone if said attacks provoked retaliation from any hunters in the area. If any of that happened, being alone wasn't just vulnerable, it was deadly. It wasn't that Grayson couldn't defend himself, he was a born were and had a lot of experience under his belt, but it wouldn't hurt to have friends of any description if he needed to call for help. "Thanks. I'll give it a couple of days. That way, if either of you change your mind..." He smiled as he said it, letting her know that he wouldn't take it personally if that happened. They were well within their rights to dispose of the phone or not answer any calls from unrecognised numbers. "I appreciate this."

Sophie smiled slightly. "If either of us change our minds, it won't take us two days," she advised him. Of that she was sure. If there was going to be a bad reaction to this, it would be within hours - possibly as long as a day, seeing as how Oz was distracted at the moment by the fact Dean was about to get back home again. "But, okay - whatever you want. You don't even have to use it, but the number's there."

He had no doubt about that, but he'd made the offer regardless. "Well, right now I don't have any other options, so it's just a matter of when, not if. If I'm being honest, that is." That smile of his hadn't gone anywhere, it was somewhat subtle but it hadn't dropped at all. "I'll give him a call." He nodded, finally pulling out his wallet and slotting the number inside before replacing it in his pocket. Picking up his coffee, he regarded Sophie once more. She had to be involved with Oz. The way she had worded that statement of hers suggested that they were in this -- whatever 'this' was -- together. At the very least, they were close friends. "Oz," he began, carefully, after sipping his coffee. "Is he a born were?" Grayson made sure to use a tone that, he hoped, would tell Sophie that it didn't affect things either way.

"It's... complicated," Sophie told him. And it really was, she knew. There just didn't seem to be any other answer - at least, not one she was willing to give. The ritual her husband had undergone to bring his inner monster under control she still considered to have been unnecessary. But then, she haboured long feelings of guilt for the knowledge that he'd considered it such because she'd abandoned him. Their soul bond mean that even the monster saw her as mate, listened to her. She could control him, calm him, even in a full moon rage. She'd been able to do that since they were bonded. But she'd run out on him, and he'd been left to the fate of locking himself up every full moon. He still did that. Despite her presence. Despite the ritual. Despite he had control now. Despite the fact that getting it had almost killed him. He still treated himself as an abomination.

Grayson had already had his suspicions; you didn't just put bars on the windows for nothing, and the scent of wolf around the place combined with that detail had told him all he needed to know, but even so, it was better to hear it from the horse's mouth, as it were. And Sophie's answer was enough to tell him that Oz had not been born. But as he'd tried to suggest with his tone, it didn't really change anything. It didn't change the fact that he would keep that number in his wallet, and most likely make use of it. A wolf was a wolf. It didn't matter if they were born or bitten, not to Grayson. "All right," he acknowledged quietly, setting his mug down on the table. It was clear that she didn't want to discuss it, and out of respect, he wouldn't make her. It was none of his business. "I should get out of your hair," he said to her, looking at her from across the table and giving her another faint smile. He didn't want to wear out his welcome, if he could help it.

Sophie finished off her coffee and stood. "You take care of yourself," she told him, not arguing with him leaving now. She'd given all she had, warned where warning was needed and hopefully Oz wouldn't have to worry about the death of another were in town.

He was already on his feet, collecting his jacket from the back of the chair where he'd draped it before sitting down. "You too. Thanks for the coffee." He nodded, no matter how unnecessarily, towards the mug on the table, and donned his coat, picking up the bag he'd brought out with him. With a nod for Sophie to acknowledge her hospitality and thank her for it, seeing no need to drag out his departure, he turned and headed for the door, leaving her in the kitchen, and hopefully with the knowledge that she wouldn't have to worry about him in any way, whether it be skulking around her house or when it came to the attacks.