Buy me a drink? {Mason Smith}

[Connie Lynn Marshall]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, width: 440px; background-image:url(http://i1081.photobucket.com/albums/j342/Rockiesaurus/black.png), bTable] 476, Mason Smith, First Meeting, OUTFIT ! Connie smiled as she leaned forward on her bar stool, reaching out to take the drink the bartender slid down the bar to her. It wasn't terribly busy at Maverick's just then, but she was having a good time anyway. "Thanks," She called down the bar, and slid a dollar across for a tip as she turned on the barstool. There was a band setting up equipment, but she wasn't really looking forward to them. She'd heard them play before. Maybe she'd bug out before they started, they were not good. Some of the residents liked them, but she wasn't one for country music. She preferred rock. Connie needed to have a good night out. Maybe she'd get a little drunk, go home and watch a movie or something. She wasn't one to pick up people from the bar. She looked around at the people in the bar. She knew most of them by name, and was even friendly with them. She didn't see any wolves tonight, maybe they heard about the band when she hadn't and had decided against coming. She didn't blame them. But the alcohol was good, and the company... Well, that was lacking a bit. She was turning around, sipping at her Bud Light and scanning the familiar human faces. Maybe she'd find a human she knew well enough to go over and talk to. Jackson was amusing company now that they weren't in high school, and when he was away from his fiance. She really hated werewolves, and Connie didn't want to be anywhere near that woman. It didn't matter that no one but pack knew that Connie was a werewolf. It was the principle of the matter. But alas, Jackson wasn't here tonight. She continued to look around, when she saw someone she'd never seen before. She took a breath, not quite looking at him from the corner of her eye. He was good looking, and if her nose wasn't mistaken, she thought he was a werewolf too. It'd been awhile since a new face had come to town. She wondered what he was doing here. Maybe he was looking for a pack? She couldn't tell just by glancing at him, she'd need to talk to him. Maybe he'd want to talk shop. Turning back, she waved for another drink, motioning to get whatever the man was drinking already. She smiled, handed over the money and wrapped her fingers around her drink and the one she had bought for him. She slid off her bar stool, and moved over to where he was sitting. She took another deep breath, and was rewarded with his scent. He was a werewolf alright. "Hey. I've not seen you around town before. Passing through?" She smiled, setting the other drink in front of him. "You look like you're running a little low. Want another?"

BY GABE IS A FWEAK AT CAUTION !

[Mason Smith]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i.imgur.com/yDCor.png] warning for mature language and mature themes text | speak Bars had always been a home to Mason when he wasn't busy in his apartment. Whether the band played something he enjoyed or not, you could easily find him perched upon a bar stool. In his particular occasion, he leaned over the slick counter in silence, completely unmoving except for the gentle roll of his shoulders as he breathed. If anyone couldn't pick up his subtle movements, they'd almost consider him a statue as he sat, eavesdropping on all the conversations he could stand to. A good deal of them were very uninteresting - 'you wanna come to my place later?' or just business talk over a light beer. It only took a few lines of conversation to make him tune out, leaving him as uninterested as he was when he originally came in here. This town was tiny and needed some action. Mason wouldn't bring it, but something a little more exciting would be nice. His fingers gently wrapped around the glass he had in his hand - eighty proof on the rocks. Beer was a more casual drink for him, something to quench his thirst if he was out for a stroll. When he came to drink, he had to go hard or go home sober. But it didn't seem like sobriety was in the cards for this evening. A young woman pulled up next to him, getting comfortable and ordering him another drink. His next drink reached him before he could finish his first one, but he hadn't really planned on finishing until the woman talked. His head turned and he thawed, his bright green eyes looking the woman over before he inhaled deeply. Werewolf. His upper lip curled to reveal his teeth slightly, just a curl of protest and disgust. Had she been human, she probably wouldn't notice it. But he expected she'd notice a lot more than he would like. Play it cool. When she questioned him, he huffed quietly. His hand wrapped around his first drink as he downed it in one big swig before grabbing the second drink and downing it. With two empty glasses, he took his middle finger and tapped the counter roughly, enough to get the bartender's attention long enough to give him another drink. He didn't touch this one, though, and instead stared at the woman next to him, looking her up and down before answering her questions. "I'm here to stay. For the most part. Unless something chases me off." He narrowed his eyes slightly. People didn't come up and talk to him too often - he was a little out of practice, but he'd give it a go. "What's a fine woman like yourself doing talking to me?" Still got it. table by sophia

[Connie Lynn Marshall]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, width: 440px; background-image:url(http://i1081.photobucket.com/albums/j342/Rockiesaurus/black.png), bTable] 327, Mason Smith, First Meeting, OUTFIT ! Connie was patient. She saw his lip curl up when he realized what she was, but it only made her smile. Just a little smile. She waited, silent, as he eyed her and tossed back his drinks. She sipped at her beer as he tapped the bar for another one, and the bartender complied, laying down another tumbler for him. He didn't touch this one though, just turned to stare at her again. She turned and stared at him right back. She wasn't a submissive in the pack to be cowed by a stare. He looked at her, up and down, and she leaned back so he could get a good look. She made her body posture show that she wasn't a threat, a relaxed slump against the bar. It also showed though that she wouldn't back down from a fight should he try to start one. "I'm here to stay. For the most part. Unless something chases me off." Connie's lips twitched up into a smile. "Well, lets hope no one runs you off then," She said, lifting her beer as if to indicate a toast. She took a drink and leaned back as he narrowed his eyes at her, looking as if something had occurred to him. "What's a fine woman like yourself doing talking to me?" Ah, so that's what he had thought of. She let out a small laugh as she leaned back against the bar, tilting her head to see him better. "Well, we have something in common, don't we?" Her lips twitched up into a smile. "Call me the welcoming committee. We just like to know who's in town." She shrugged. "No harm to you or yours." She smiled at him again, and took a drink. Her voice was soft, and it wouldn't carry to anyone else but the man next to her. Slowly, she set down her beer and held out her hand. "I'm Connie Marshall. Nice to meet you."

BY GABE IS A FWEAK AT CAUTION !

[Mason Smith]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i.imgur.com/yDCor.png] warning for mature language and mature themes text | speak Hope no one runs him off? He smiled at that - plush lips spreading over perfectly white teeth. If they weren't human teeth, they'd be so much more threatening. But for now, he was calm, slightly intimidating but obviously not to this woman. She was so cool and charming when she spoke. Her voice was like honey, but he didn't make any mention of that. He could of, but he wasn't quite feeling up to it. He noticed her little toast, but he didn't pay any mind to it. His fingers wrapped around his glass and he swirled the liquor around, listening to the ice scratch on the glass. "If you're not careful, you might run me off," he said calmly while taking a sip of his drink before sloshing it around once more. He didn't look at her, just at the counter and at the alcohol. It seemed much better than her at that very moment. We have something in common, don't we? His body grew tense. No. "We have nothing in common," he growled under his breath. I'm a monster, he wanted to say with his head in his hands. You've probably never been able to fathom the heinous things I've done. You're nothing like me, werewolf or not. But his lips were shut, and his breathing got heavy. He did manage to calm down after a moment or two, and when he did, he took another swig of his whiskey. "The last thing I need is a welcoming committee. Sorry, but you and your pack can mind your own business of who's going in and out of this town. Especially me." His grumpiness was showing, but she persisted. Her introduction was short and to the point. He looked around before sitting up straight in his seat, finally looking her in the face with a much more calm expression than he had on earlier. He sat there for a moment, collecting himself. "Mason Smith. And I'm thrilled," he breathed sarcastically but with a little more playful tone woven in. "My apologies miss Connie, but I don't play well with others. Even beautiful women such as yourself tend to get me a little riled up. But no one ever said that was a bad thing." He managed to smile a genuine smile, chuckling as his own flirting. "And you don't want anything to do with me anyway, miss. I can't even flirt with a damn." table by sophia

[Connie Lynn Marshall]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, width: 440px; background-image:url(http://i1081.photobucket.com/albums/j342/Rockiesaurus/black.png), bTable] 449, Mason Smith, First Meeting, OUTFIT ! Connie was still slightly amused as she watched the man from the corner of her eye. There was something about him, something... Dark? No, not quite dark. Maybe he was just hurt. Not physically, but emotionally. It was in the way he spoke, his body posture. She wondered if he knew how much he was telling her without telling her. She was observant. That's why she was in charge of watching out for werewolves who were losing control. "Me? Run you off? Now we wouldn't want that." She smiled at him, but slid a bit away, giving him space. He might think she was retreating, but in reality she didn't want to scare him off. She had to make sure he wasn't a risk to her pack, though she didn't think he was. Maybe a risk to himself, though. But she'd have to get to know him before she'd be able to tell. Even watching him, Connie nearly missed his body stiffening. She knew she'd said something wrong when she mentioned that they were alike. She shouldn't have said that, but she hadn't known it would affect him like that. "We have nothing in common," His voice was a low growl that wanted to send shivers up Connie's spine, but she ignored it and relaxed her posture more. She hadn't meant to offend him. But what could she say now? Sorry wasn't going to cheer him up, now was it? God he's touchy. I've not put my foot that far up my ass in years. "Well, then, don't call me the welcoming committee. I'm not talking to you on pack business anyway. I'm just a lonely girl in a bar talking to an attractive man." She smiled at him. She watched him turn to her after she had introduced herself, and looked her fully in the face, sitting up straight. She only continued to smile as he gathered his thoughts. His sarcastic tone wasn't lost on Connie when he introduced himself, and neither was the playful one twined within it. She let out a low laugh, amused by his playful flirting, even if it was mixed with a bit of an edge. That edge told her he wanted to be left alone, but a man drinking himself stupid when he was this pissed about something wasn't a good thing. When he genuinely smiled, though, she felt a little better about coming over to talk to him. Maybe he'd warm up some. "Hey, I like your attempt at flirting. Some guys just say stupid pick up lines and try to stick their hands up my shirt." She rolled her eyes dramatically. "I much prefer your style though. It's more amusing."

[div style="font-family: arial; font-size: 9px; [br"]
background: #F5F5F5; width: 420px;]BY

[url=http://z10.invisionfree.com/CAUTIONTOTHEWIND/index

.php?showuser=44115]GABE IS A FWEAK[/url] AT CAUTION

![/div]

[Mason Smith]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i.imgur.com/yDCor.png] warning for mature language and mature themes text | speak Space was good. He knew she wasn't leaving anytime soon, so it didn't cross his mind at all. But he was wary - very sensitive to the area around him. When she did move, he could breathe easier. Something about personal space always gripped him when he was socializing, if that's what you called this. Touchy was probably an appropriate word, but it was to a larger degree than that. Emotionally volatile, completely insane, cynical - those were words Mason would use personally, but he'd keep that to himself for a while. "You may be pretty, but you're a shitty liar," he accused, his bright green eyes boring into hers. "Every business is pack business. You're going to run back to all your friends and family and tell them you met some freak stray at the bar who poses a threat to not only himself but everyone around him. I know how it works." He shook his head and took another sip of his whiskey before slamming the empty glass on the table to get his bartender's attention. When the man walked over, Mason leaned over the counter. "Get me some fireball whiskey and about four shots of it." The alcohol would hit him but not much - years and years of drinking and some werewolf metabolism didn't make him that much of an alcoholic. He rolled his shoulders as he sat back a little, looking back at Connie. His flirting style was amusing? He'd prefer something along the lines of effective, but amusing was good enough, he guessed. "I'm not a big fan of coming off as a shallow asshole. People think I'm some kind of guy who'll steal you out of the night and take you then and there before tossing you back. Not quite my style. The asshole part is true, but not in the romance scene. But I don't quite like to blow my own horn." Mason was a gentleman, sure, but he was making an ass of himself here. Switching from violent words to soothing flirtations was a bit ridiculous. "You'll have to excuse me, Connie. I don't really make the best company and I'm not too fond of strangers." The bartender rolled up with four shots of fireball whiskey and sat them in front of Mason. The werewolf grabbed two, one in each hand, and held one out to Connie with a shy smile he would get when he was seriously flirting. A cutesy little smile that he made with puppy dog eyes in an attempt to get on the better side of someone. Hopefully it would work. "Would you like a shot? It tastes like hot tamales. Try it." And if she'd grab it, he'd hold his shot glass up in a toast much like she did before. He didn't have anything to toast to, so he downed his shot in silence, licking the taste of cinnamon off his lips afterwards. table by sophia

[Connie Lynn Marshall]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, width: 440px; background-image:url(http://i1081.photobucket.com/albums/j342/Rockiesaurus/black.png), bTable] 457, Mason Smith, First Meeting, OUTFIT ! Connie thought he may have relaxed some when she had moved over, even that little inch. She didn't think he'd be kinder now that she wasn't sitting so close, but she didn't think he'd be quite so hostile. Or not. She watched him as he accused her of lying, meeting his green eyes with her own golden brown ones. Her brown eyes brightened until they were nearly wolf-gold. "I'm not lying." She hated being called a liar. And being called a shitty liar was just insulting. She blinked once, and her eyes were their darker brown shade once more. "I don't lie to people, let alone someone I just met. I'm not going to run off and tell the pack unless I think you're going to go on a rampage down town. I'll tell them there's a new stray in town, and that's it. That's all I have to tell them." She took a drink of her beer, finishing it off and ordering another. She wasn't overly fond of beer, but she wasn't wanting to spend too much tonight. She waited as he ordered four shots of fireball whiskey, something she'd never heard of before. What the hell was fireball whiskey? She blinked once, but settled back as she took her beer from the bartender after he gave Mason his shots. "You'll have to excuse me, Connie. I don't really make the best company and I'm not too fond of strangers." Connie gave him a small smile. "As long as you don't call me a liar, I think you're pretty good company." She was about to take a sip of her beer, when Mason's shy smile and offering of one of the shots made her pause. After his accusation of her being a liar, she hadn't thought he'd still want to flirt, but his comment about not being the best of company was a bit of an apology, wasn't it? Her lips turned up, and she set her beer down and took one, trying not to brush his fingers but for more than a second. "A hot tamale, huh?" She sniffed it, and wrinkled her nose. "Well, if you say it's good, then I'll try it." She lifted a corner of one lip into a half smile, and held her shot out and up. Her lips formed into a real smile when they clinked the shots together, and she downed hers as he did his. It was... Odd. She licked it off her lips, and the little off her thumb where it splashed there. "Hmm. It's not bad. What did you call this? Fireball whiskey?" She liked the burn of it, surprisingly considering the smell had nearly put her off. She liked cinnamon too, so that helped.

BY GABE IS A FWEAK AT CAUTION !

[Mason Smith]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i.imgur.com/yDCor.png] warning for mature language and mature themes text | speak Mason chuckled - completely unfazed by the anger that was raised when he called her not only a liar, but a shitty one. "I'm sorry sweetheart, but that's pack business." He knew how the tyranny was. The alpha barks commands at a bunch of pups and no one questions him. Just thinking about it made Mason's nostril's flare as the image of his father flashed before his eyes. A tyrant, Mason was so glad when he was able to rip him from his throne. There should never be a man so cruel. "And you think you can guess if I'm a threat to your fantastic pack by having a drink with me?" He chuckled. "What you're going to find out here is the kind of drink I like - which is whiskey. Jack Daniels tends to be my best friend, usually honey flavored. What else you're going to find is how I act when I'm drunk, and that's sober. I don't really get drunk sweetheart. Years of alcoholism will do that to you. You're also going to realize what kind of a job I have based on what I pay for my alcohol with. Credit card - I'm a guy who doesn't have all his money in his pocket and I don't make much. Cash - I'm loaded. But, of course, you're assuming a lot of things based on what you can see me do." He leaned forward over the counter and smiled, taking another shot of fireball whiskey. "But I'll play along with your pack business, darling. I like games." He smiled, but this time it was more devilish, malicious, and suspicious. His eyes lit up - the more to alcohol swirled around in his system the more his cynical side showed up. Cynical in that he didn't mind unleashing a bit of his darker side unto the world because the world was complete shit anyway. He watched her take the shot after wafting the scent into her nose. He hadn't expected her to like it much - he hadn't really found a woman who drank whiskey like he did. Either way, he was a little impressed when she licked her lips and her thumb. "Fireball whiskey," he confirmed with a nod. "It's good." But he wouldn't share anymore. He took his last shot and pushed all the glasses to the edge of the counter for the bartender to pick up. It appeared Mason was lightening up, and that was most likely all the toxin. It was destructive on his system and on his environment. "So what pack are you in my darling Connie? What do you do? Do you like it?" He seemed interested, and he kept the charm up. Had Connie been any less beautiful, Mason would have been a complete asshole to the woman in his drunken stupor that worsened every moment. table by sophia

[Connie Lynn Marshall]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, width: 440px; background-image:url(http://i1081.photobucket.com/albums/j342/Rockiesaurus/black.png), bTable] 383, Mason Smith, First Meeting, OUTFIT ! Connie wasn't riled up anymore, and his response to her anger earlier about him calling her a liar didn't strike her anger back up. She just listened as he went on and on about how she wasn't going to figure him out just by watching him drink in a bar. She raised an eyebrow when he was finished, drinking out of her beer. "Are you finished?" She asked him curiously. She took another pull on her beer, then shrugged. She wasn't going to explain herself to him, but she was amused. "Hey, as long as you play along." Connie watched as he downed the last two shots of the fireball whiskey. She hadn't expected him to give her another one. Pity, though, she found she had a liking for it. Maybe she'd order some later on. She glanced up at the band as they started to tune their instruments and she winced a little. God. She'd hoped to be out of here before they started up. Oh well. "So what pack are you in my darling Connie? What do you do? Do you like it?" Connie's eyes flickered at his question. A deep sadness behind them was hidden when she lowered her lashes until she gained control again. "There's only one pack in town, the Orion pack. I usually watch over the pups in the pack, but I also keep an eye on the others." She smiled at him, lashes still lowered but not enough that he wouldn't be able to tell that her eyes had gone golden again. "I make sure everyone has a grip on their control. If I fear someone is losing it, I have to inform the alpha." Her eyes softened back to brown, and she shrugged. "I try to help them gain their control back. It helps, most of the time. If I can't do it, usually the Alpha can. If not, though, they're a danger..." Her eyes went sad again and she sighed, then shrugged. "It's hard on everyone when someone loses control..." She shook her head, and smiled at him, though there was still an air of sadness around her. It was fading though, degree by degree. "Have you ever been in a pack before? It's not as bad as many make it out to be."

BY GABE IS A FWEAK AT CAUTION !

[Mason Smith]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i.imgur.com/yDCor.png] warning for mature language and mature themes text | speak Mason laughed. His little rant was probably unnecessary, but he didn't care. He said what he wanted to, and he was thankful that Connie had stayed calm and didn't grow a little impatient while he said it. But her response was comical, and at that, he chuckled. While Connie talked, he learned. Converse only had one pack - he should have guessed. Towns were like packs themselves, and almost like gang territory, it was well protected from others. But, perhaps the multiple strays he could smell around town led him to believe that there were multiple packs. Usually, for him, packs that were too busy fighting with each other didn't mind strays in their territory. "Orion, huh?" This pack was obviously nothing like Mason's pack before it had collapsed in on itself. "Why do you watch after pups? You should let them fend for themselves - they learn faster that way." Or beat them senseless in gauntlets in front of the Alpha until he learns to behave. Mason's body started to ache. "I mean, obviously not unsupervised, but you shouldn't have to hold their hand. They're kids, not babies. They don't need your tit in their mouth." He paused and looked up. "I mean, no offense if that's a little rough for you." He listened to her a little more. His upbringing was so different - he had to deal with himself, learn about himself and be punished severely when he misbehaved. His pack had no mercy, and if you were weak, you were basically put to death with every fight. Something so simple as having a mother watch over everyone was so foreign, and a little too nice. "Control is an ability that not everyone has. It can't be taught, it needs to be created. If you baby people who need to learn control, you'll never wean them off you." It's why when a baby cries, you have to ignore it. It needs to learn to satisfy itself. But, what was Mason doing? Trying to lecture some woman who's just doing her job. This was why Mason felt he made a good Alpha so long ago - he knew what he was doing, despite how cruel it was or is considered to be. "Was I in a pack?" He laughed, but his smile never faltered. "Yeah, I used to be. One run by a tyrant. That was so long ago, though." He laughed once more but it was empty, filled with no humor or happiness. For one, he was old, really old. And two, he wished he was the young werewolf he once was - to full of grandeur and dreams. table by sophia

[Connie Lynn Marshall]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, width: 440px; background-image:url(http://i1081.photobucket.com/albums/j342/Rockiesaurus/black.png), bTable] 345, Mason Smith, First Meeting, OUTFIT ! Connie smiled, glad he had chuckled at her attempt to lighten the conversation back up. She had hoped that was the right tact to take, and he seemed to be a bit less angry now. She didn't think he'd open up to her, but maybe she could at least get him to trust her enough to not run off every time she saw him in public. She took a sip of beer, then nearly choked on it with a surprised laugh when he asked her why she took care of the pups. "Because pups can't shift until they hit puberty," She said, as if it were obvious. Then she paused, and shrugged. "Mostly we let them do what they want as they get older, we just make sure they can handle themselves. It's the younger ones I mostly look out for. Actually, it's a bit more like babysitting. Though they usually use me as a big toy. And I like playing with them. They can be a lot more fun than adults." She looked at him as he spoke of control, and wondered if he had had problems with it when he was younger. "We don't baby them," She said with a shrug. "And no, control can't be learned. But it can be regained if one loses it. It just takes someone who knows what they're doing to help them figure it out." She turned to him, and wondered what type of pack would allow a tyrant to stay in the alpha position. She didn't ask, though. "Most wouldn't allow a tyrant to be leader for long," She said thoughtfully, setting her beer on the bar. "I've never been under a tyrannical leader though, so I wouldn't really understand what it was like." She didn't add Why don't you tell me about it? to the end of her sentence, but it was implied. Would he take her bait and talk some more? Or would he leave? She hoped he'd talk, but if he didn't she at least hoped he wouldn't just get up and leave.

BY GABE IS A FWEAK AT CAUTION !

[Mason Smith]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i.imgur.com/yDCor.png] warning for mature language and mature themes text | speak Mason knew enough about shifting. He'd done it for decades upon decades, and every time it was easier, and sometimes even when the full moon shined bright, he could stare at it and fight the burning sensation as his bones wanted to shift. But he could still remember his first change - it happened in the middle of the night and he was completely asleep, but woken up by obnoxiously loud cracking and searing pain. His father couldn't help him because he was shifting too, but Mason remembered how he clawed at his own skin, willing to rip the bones out himself so they would stop. Anything to make the pain stop. He ended up bleeding everywhere and couldn't even feel a damn thing while he clawed. The thought sent shivers up his spine, but he didn't move or twitch at all. "Yeah, I mean, do whatever you got to do, sweetheart. It's your job, not mine. I'm just very..." he paused and drummed on the counter with his fingers, mulling a few phrases over in his head. "Old school, I suppose." Truth was, he was just old. Good thing werewolves didn't really look their age. But it began to make him wonder about this female before him - was she like him? A beautiful young temptress who was truly almost a century old? Or was she actually quite young considering the lifespan of a werewolf? He didn't know, and he had learned the hard way to never ask a woman about her age. "We old school folks just leave them out on their own. If they get in trouble, they deal with the consequences. It makes them learn fast." He shrugged. Such was the life of a brute warrior back in the day. In his pack at a child, if you misbehaved, you were thrown in the gauntlet which consisted of everyone who had done wrong fighting for basically their life. It didn't end until there was one standing, and often it was Mason. He wasn't even in there for bad behavior, but just to be stronger and scare the others into submission. He was daddy's little monster. He laughed when Connie had mentioned the dislike towards tyrants. "He stayed a lot longer than anyone liked, really. It was a whole mess. You really don't want to hear about it." His tone was final - it wasn't that she didn't want to hear, it was that he didn't want to talk about it. But he did tack on a few details that made his body suddenly stiff. "I took care of it, though. Don't you worry your pretty little head about tyrants. If it weren't for that motherfucker anyway, I wouldn't be here." Son of a bitch. table by sophia

[Connie Lynn Marshall]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, width: 440px; background-image:url(http://i1081.photobucket.com/albums/j342/Rockiesaurus/black.png), bTable] 373, Mason Smith, First Meeting, OUTFIT ! Connie wondered just how old the man sitting next to her was if he considered himself to be old school in the way of raising pups. It was hard to tell with wolves, and so many disliked talking about their ages. She didn't blame them really, but it always made her curious. She always asked her Uncle about such things, though he never said anything about his past. "Old school, huh?" She shrugged. "Not all packs are like this one, I know that. I don't know if that makes us more or less enlightened though, but I'm too motherly. I can't just let a child fend for itself if the odds aren't in his or hers favor." She shrugged again, and leaned back against the bar to study Mason. Her curiosity about his age was peaked, but she refused to let herself ask him how old he was. He'd probably lie anyway, and that wouldn't set this meeting off in a good light. She didn't want him to start lying to her just because she asked something she knew was a stupid thing to ask. Connie studied him as he spoke of tyrants, and she wondered who he was to make him so angry about it. She knew he was only saying she wouldn't want to hear the story because he didn't want to tell it, but she really did want to hear it. Hearing about other packs made her curious, but she didn't want to push it. Okay, she did want to push it, but there was a difference between not wanting to, and knowing when to keep a button on her lip. "Ah, I see. Then I won't ask about it." Despite her words, her tone obviously complied curiosity, but it was obvious that she wasn't going to outright as him about his old pack. "Onto more... Pleasant things, shall we?" She smiled at him. "How are you liking Converse so far?" She knew he would probably say something snide or grumpy, but she figured changing the subject off his old pack would help that anger she smelled to dissipate. It was such a strong emotion, it made her want to sneeze. Maybe he'd be happier talking about something else entirely.

BY GABE IS A FWEAK AT CAUTION !

[Mason Smith]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i.imgur.com/yDCor.png] warning for mature language and mature themes text | speak Mason's age would never really be something he'd reveal willingly - he always stuck with twenty-six because it was the age that his life had stopped. Not that remembering him at twenty-six was a good thing, but it was a nice enough landmark and Mason could pull off being that young or old, depending on who was asking. Too motherly? It was a female thing - Mason could never imaging himself watching over a little pup trying to learn its way through the world. He'd try and help by making it strong so it could fend off its problems, but that would be it. Having to ability to take care of someone or something was a trait he never had, but he looked at Connie and tried to picture her watching over a whole flock of pups who had no idea. It seemed too hard, too difficult. "You have my respect," he chuckled. "I couldn't watch over a bunch of little ones if my life depended on it. I certainly wouldn't return them in one piece." Switching the subject off of tyrants was a smart move - Mason had control but only so much. Certainly, by the time he wandered back to his apartment he'd start tearing things up. Breaking mirrors when he looked in them and then calling the repair man the next morning to bring in more mirrors while he pulled the glass out of his arms and fists. But Connie wasn't going to talk about it or press on, and for that Mason was thankful. He exhaled heavily as if he'd been holding that one breath for days. "Converse is... alright. I started over here to it's a step up, but it's still new to me. I know where my apartment is and where the bar is, and that's about it." He laughed to try and lighten the mood and make himself feel better, and it worked slightly. "How long have you been here? Your whole life?" Packs usually worked like that - they didn't really take in strays, so she had to be born in, right? That's how they still worked? table by sophia