VERSE NINE: J'ATTENDRAI MON TOUR

Avinglad might have stumbled on his way back up the stairs. At least I'm nowhere near as gone as the otter, he thought reassuringly. It didn't help that he still felt tired after the poor sleep he'd had the night before and his muscles and injuries from the cathedral encounter still ached. A few cigarettes washed down by several more pints of beer had helped with that, though.

The brawny wolf realized that he had another problem before him that more beer wouldn't solve, however. As he reached the door to their - rather, the otter's - room he leaned his forehead against it with an exasperated groan.

"Oh bloody... That pished eejit has the key on 'im..." He pawed at the doorknob and tried to turn it ineffectually before giving up and leaning on the door with a heavy shoulder. Avinglad sighed against the wood and turned to put his back to it, sliding to sit down on the floor with a grumble.

"Wouldn't be so bad if my effects weren't in there," he muttered sullenly to himself. Being buzzed did make him feel a bit chattier, perhaps, but now there was no one around to listen. "Then ah could get my own room," the lupine concluded with a grunt.

As it stood, his weapons - well, weapon - and some of the supplies from his van had been left in the otter's chamber. The pistol he had on his person, but the battle axe of which he was rather fond had been left in the bedroom. The two axes he'd thrown last night were still embedded in that pillar in Notre Dame, and now that Avinglad recalled them he felt a bit anxious after the fact. That was careless.

The Scotsman sighed and let his head loll back against the door. He fished around in his coat pocket for his pack of smokes, having nothing better to do, and put one of them to his lips before searching for his lighter.

"Could get some o' the things I have in the car an' get a room of my own, anyway," he muttered to no one, flicking the lighter once he'd found it. "Still leaves too much of it with him, though..." At least Kaw hadn't seen fit to take the whore back to his room to bed her, in the presence of Avinglad's belongings. That was some small consolation, he thought, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the otter's behaviour...

"Monsieur loup...?"

Speak of the Devil.

Avinglad looked up to see what his ears had already told him; the harlot in question had appeared at the end of the corridor. She came 'round the corner in a bathrobe and nothing else, keeping it closed with a tiny fist. Immodest as ever. In fairness to her, though, her hair still seemed wet from a shower, the makeup was scrubbed from her face and she was at least not wearing her bondage cuffs and collar.

"Ooch, how can I help ye, lass?" Avinglad wondered, hoping he couldn't. "Did that mad dafty get away from ye?"

"Not exactly. He is asleep on my bed," she replied matter-of-factly, brushing a strand of damp hair from her eyes.

"That so? Nnh," Avinglad sucked back a lungful of smoke, rather disinterested with the otter and his current state of affairs. Something jingled, making his pointed ears stand at attention, and he turned to look back at the vixen in surprise as she twirled what appeared to be a room key on one of her fingers.

"You need to get in zere, oui?" Ms. Morgenstern asked with a knowing nod to the door at Avinglad's back. She'd made her way to his end of the hall to stand by his feet. Avi blinked a few times before extending a grateful paw, dumbfounded.

"Oh, thank-" before he could so much as finish his sentence Melodie yanked the key back, cocking a thin eyebrow at him.

"But first I request a favour from you, monsieur loup..." the Parisian fox smiled, and Avinglad felt his ears flatten a little.

"Oh, aye...?" he asked with cautious scepticism. Melodie smirked and crossed her arms over her chest, adjusting her robe.

"You need to remove ze otter from my room," she stated. "I'd like to get some sleep tonight. Comfortably." Not the worst of favours, at least... If he were in a better mood he might have found something amusing about the notion of a whore reluctant to have a stranger spend the night in her bed.

"Hnnnh, alright," Avinglad groaned, wincing a little at a twinge in one of his shoulders as he climbed back to his feet.

"Bon," Melodie smiled and turned to lead him back the way she'd come. The vixen didn't seem one for small talk any longer. Whether that was because she'd gotten what she was after from Kaw earlier or had given up on Avinglad, the wolf couldn't tell. He was grateful for it either way.

They arrived at her room at the end of the hall, tucked away in the farthest recess of the tavern. For good reason, no doubt. The open door to her chamber revealed Kawauso in all his...'glory'...sprawled out face-down on the foxette's bed. At least he had his boxers on.

"Well, ye've made sure he's clothed, somewhat. Ah'll thank ye for that," Avinglad admitted as he stepped into the room to assess the unconscious mustelid.

"Not at all, monsieur."

Avinglad approached the foot of the bed and stooped to heft the otter. He was light enough; Avi had no problem slinging his sleeping form over one shoulder. It probably helped that the otter had no muscle to speak of while Avinglad himself stood a good head taller than him at least and weighed about 150 kilos of lupine brawn.

As Avinglad hefted his unconscious ally of convenience he noted a pile of neatly-folded clothes, on top of which perched two holstered pistols and a familiar-looking pair of glasses.

"These his?" the wolf asked, jabbing a finger at the clutter. Melodie nodded, so Avinglad scooped the bundle up with his other arm, cradling it awkwardly to his chest. He muttered a curse at the inconvenience of having to balance the belongings along with their incapacitated owner and turned to face Melodie.

The vixen gave an appreciative smile and carefully placed the room key on top of the personal effects in Avinglad's grip, patting it.

"Merci, monsieur loup. Bon soir." She patted him once on the shoulder and Avinglad did his best not to shrink from her touch, turning with a little wave from the paw that was helping keep the otter in place.

"Aye, thank ye, lass," he replied on his way out the door. When it closed and latched behind him with a click the wolf headed back down the hall, rounding the corner to return to his - their - room.

Avinglad felt something brush at his tail where it stuck out the gap running down the back of his coat from the waist. Evidently the wolf's cargo had stirred from his slumber.

"Hehe, hello there...lovely piesh o' tail," the otter burbled, barely intelligible, against Avinglad's back. Avi grunted and hoisted Kaw up a little higher.

"Oi lad, ye're getting me confused with that vixen, I think," the Scot replied.

"Mhehe, nope," the Canadian tittered, pawing again. "Loverly piesh of wolf-tail, here," he affirmed. His words alone were enough to send an uncomfortable, irate flush across Avinglad's muzzle, but when he brushed a paw across Avi's backside the wolf nearly dropped the otter to the floor.

"Oi! Watch yer paws, d'ye ken? Ye're a sloppy drunk, d'ye know that, lad?" Avinglad huffed and hurried the rest of the way to their room, adding, "are ye always such a jobby jabber when ye're fuckult?"

"I dun unnerstand a word yer sayin'," the otter muttered, "but if you're comin' on to me..."

"Fuck off!" Avinglad snarled, bristling, his hackles on end.

"If you'll lemme..."

"Ye're impossible," Avi complained, struggling to balance otter and clothing and keys while he fumbled hastily to unlock the door. He gave Kaw another rough hoist, jerking him a little, and that seemed to shut him up temporarily, at least. "Hold still a moment."

A little more bumbling and Avinglad finally managed to open the door. He all but fell forward into the room, rushing to dump the otter and his belongings unceremoniously on the bed. Kaw grunted but otherwise rolled onto his side and remained asleep.

Avinglad stood there for a few moments, shivering uncomfortably and brushing himself off. He shed his jacket and wrinkled his muzzle in disgust, staring down at his unconscious host, feeling more than a little filthy after having been on the receiving end of Kaw's advances.

"Don't ye fuckin' try any o' that shit again," Avi warned, pointing an accusatory finger at the impaired mustelid. "Nobody..." he bit off the word and muttered an oath to himself. No one was listening to him, anyway.

With a sigh Avinglad walked back to the door to close it. Just before he managed that, though, he saw a young skunk-woman rush past to the room next-door, balancing a food tray in one arm and a bag in the other. Avi thought nothing of it and was about to latch the door when he heard,

"Voilà! I don't you I wouldn't be long, Damon-"

Avinglad felt his heart jump and he froze in place. A chill ran down his spine and his paw lingered on the door, which remained open just a hair.

Couldn't be...

Avinglad shut the door quietly and hesitated before turning to press his head against the wall bordering the adjacent room. A keen lupine ear twitched and fluttered, trying to get flush with the surface. All he could hear was the infuriating, muffled din of tavern life downstairs.

You're being paranoid, he tried to tell himself. "Damon's just a name," he muttered under his breath. "Could be anyone." But then why couldn't he seem to convince himself that it was a coincidence? I can't hear shit over the chatter downstairs!

Frustrated by the ambient noise from below, the wolf abandoned his attempt to overhear anything through the wall. He paced back and forth across the otter's room, mumbling to himself like a crazy person in the unlit chamber.

"Calm yerself, lad...it's probably some other bloke. There's no way _that_Damon could end up in the same lodgings as one - two! - fellows looking for 'im. There's no way...no way..." Avinglad stopped and stared at the wall to the neighbouring room.

After what seemed an eternity of indecision he strode over to the chair in which he'd slept the night before. Avi pulled it out from the wall and turned it to face the wall shared with the neighbouring room. "Just wait, lad...wait...calm yerself... There's one way to find out for certain... Just have to wait awhile, first..."

Having repositioned the chair to his liking, the large lupine took a seat in it. He shifted to one side in order to withdraw his Desert Eagle from its holster. He gave the weapon a once-over in the gloom, ensuring the safety was on before setting the firearm carefully in his lap. Avinglad took the time to adjust his watch, setting an alarm. The squinted against the glow of the device and set the time several hours ahead - the wee hours of the morning, when all but the most ardent night-owls would be asleep.

Then, the wolf reclined in the quiet shadows of the room and waited with all the patience of a hunter.

Tonight may yet be a good night after all...

Kaira splayed a dextrous paw against the glass of the small, tarnished bathroom mirror and wiped away the condensation that had gathered there. She gazed into her own icy eyes for a moment before studying the sharp, angular features of her feline face. Satisfied by the cursory inspection, the serious young woman turned her attention to finding an electrical outlet for her fur-dryer.

She hated being wet.

Kaira brushed her platinum blonde hair out and dried that first so that it would straighten properly. She always kept her hair short; the style smart and professional, like herself. Once it was dry, the feline worked on her short, sandy fur, twisting and turning her lithe figure in front of the little mirror in order to ensure she didn't miss any unpleasant damp spots.

Much better.

She gave herself another inspection in the mirror once dry and made a curt nod of approval. The trip from Oberndorf am Neckar had taken her almost four hours, and she certainly hadn't been paying attention to any posted speed limits. After the lengthy trip she'd needed the relaxation of that long, hot shower in order to feel like a real person again.

I could do without the floral shampoo, though, she thought, wrinkling her nose as she caught another whiff of it. Having complimentary toiletries to fall back on had been welcome given that she'd forgotten to pack a few odds and ends, but the brand provided by this establishment was far too feminine for her tastes.

Of course, she hadn't come all the way to Paris to bother worrying about something as trivial as cheap shampoo. The cat did mean business, however, so of course she took care to look the part. Kaira took the time to apply some modest eyeliner and adjust her hair further before donning a pair of simple earrings. She then applied some deodorant, a spritz of perfume to counter the irritating scent of the shampoo, and took her leave of the bathroom.

On her bed Kaira had laid out some clothes she'd unpacked: a white dress shirt and midnight blue blazer with a matching skirt. She donned them after slipping on some underwear and a bra and opted to leave her wardrobe at that: simple and businesslike.

Once dressed Kaira took some time to rummage through her luggage for a few odds and ends, packing them into her purse before she slipped into a pair of smart heels and made her way back out to the tavern proper. She made sure to double-check having locked the door and putting up a 'ne pas déranger' hanger; it was likely after-hours for the tavern staff but she really didn't need anyone rummaging through her things.

Kaira brushed herself off for good measure, straightened her shoulders and sighed before she descended the stairway to return to the noisome, smoke-filled pub that occupied the ground level of the tavern. Though the hour was growing late the boisterous activity showed no signs of abating. The surly barkeep seemed to be turning in for the evening, however, as he handed his duties off to a young but serious-looking rat.

"Ms. Steinherz," Kaira turned to see that it was the border collie with whom she'd negotiated her room addressing her. "Are ze accommodations to your liking?" Klisoura was lounging by the bannister on the stairs, enjoying a cigarette while she surveyed the tavern.

Just as good a place to start as any, Kaira thought. Better, perhaps. Kaira could tell that there was more to the wily collie than met the eye, and it wasn't something as superficial as the collie's gender identity. If this tavern was half as disreputable as it seemed, it was apparent that the man in charge was the one whom had been tending the bar. However, the one he trusted to handle business as a liaison was standing right there before Kaira. Sometimes there were places better to start than at the very top.

"Ja," Kaira responded reflexively before changing tacks to English; it being a language they both understood. "More than suitable, for my purposes," Kaira had rummaged through her purse for a cigarette of her own. By the time she'd made it over to the collie, Klisoura was ready to offer a light, which the feline graciously accepted. She didn't smoke often, but there existed a solidarity among smokers that she felt could work to her advantage.

"I do not imagine you will be using them very much, while you are here," the canine observed. "You seem to have come to Paris with ze intent to do business, non?" Kaira nodded while exhaling her first lungful of poison.

"Ja," she confirmed in habitual German. "I didn't come all the way here to tour the city; but I am interested in something involving one of your famous landmarks." This admission elicited a raised brow from Klisoura, and Kaira smiled knowingly. "There was something of an incident at Notre-Dame last night, was there not?"

Klisoura's eyes flickered for a moment, just long enough to betray a furtive look-about before she met Kaira's gaze.

"And what business would you have with something like that? Terrorism seems like ze domain of police, or ze military."

"Or arms manufacturers," Kaira added. Klisoura didn't seem to know how to respond to that.

Perfect.

The German cleared her throat as he reached into one of the pockets on her blazer and whipped out a business card, handing it over to the Frenchwoman for inspection. "As you can see I work for a prominent weapons-maker," she continued. "Und unfortunate incidents like the one last night, while tragic, provide us with opportunities."

"Opportunities," Klisoura parroted, seeming incredulous. She didn't appear to know what to make of the situation. That suited Kaira just fine; the best lies were those containing elements of the truth, after all.

"Ve need to understand whether the perpetrators were using any of our products, which would be unfortunate. We would want to take vhatever measures we can to ensure those kinds of people can't get their hands on our products. Und we would like to know whether any of the items we offer could have made the outcome more favourable for local law enforcement." Kaira shrugged as if this were a routine business conversation.

Klisoura, for her part, was still regarding the tall feline foreigner warily. Eventually she beckoned that Kaira should follow her to an unoccupied table. The collie gestured to a serving girl on the way and turned back to face Kaira as she seated herself.

"Wine?" she wondered.

"Please," Kaira accepted graciously. In truth, beer was more to her taste, but she knew accepting the offer of hospitality would benefit her and that going with the collie's first choice of beverage could only bolster her credibility further still. She took the seat opposite Klisoura and sat down comfortably, watching while the canid further examined the business card with another drag on her cigarette.

"It seems...strange, to me, zat a company like yours would be sending someone to talk to local civilians about an incident such as zis and not, say ze media, or law enforcement." Her gaze flickered back up to meet Kaira's, and the feline shrugged again.

"Our headquarters are in Oberndorf, which is only a day's drive from here. Ve will be sending along more personnel to take care of official channels but I volunteered to arrive early on my own and tackle the civilian side of our investigation." Kaira had rehearsed several possible charades in her head during the lengthy trip and spoke the falsehood with practised ease and confidence.

"Mademoiselle, zis card," Klisoura tapped where she'd tucked it into the pocket of her vest, "says you are a junior specialist and designer; hardly ze sort of person to be conducting interviews for relations publiques_or...études de marchés_, non?" Kaira wasn't entirely certain what she'd said, but she took her meaning. Klisoura was as observant and thoughtful as she seemed, at least.

"My position as a junior entails many responsibilities," Kaira answered smoothly. "Und I'm eager to move on from it, so this seemed like an opportunity to take initiative. You know how it is." She stopped to thank the server who had returned with two glasses and a bottle of red wine. Klisoura dismissed the young waitress and began to pour them both a drink.

"It is good to see young people taking initiative," the collie commented as she doled out the libations. Kaira smirked; there was no way Klisoura was more than five years her senior. Klisoura shot her a glance, however, which seemed to indicate she knew this perfectly well, and more besides. It appeared that indeed one could not 'bullshit a bull-shitter,' or however the saying went. "I'm afraid I cannot help you with the information you seek, however," the dog concluded. Kaira frowned.

"No?"

"No," Klisoura confirmed. "At least, not directly. I may be able to point you in ze right direction..." she paused to sip her wine and tap the end of her cigarette into the ashtray on the table. A tiny smile crept back into the corner of Kaira's muzzle as it became clear that both of them were playing the same game. Quid pro quo.

"Provided?" the feline intoned before sampling the wine herself. It was rich and aromatic. Pleasant enough. Klisoura shrugged and sat back, returning that same knowing smile.

"We would very much like to know more about ze incident ourselves. We take pride in keeping informed on ze happenings in Paris; we care deeply about our community, of course."

"Of course," Kaira nodded. "Vell, if you can point me in the right direction then perhaps I could share some of what I learn mit you."

"Zat would be most appreciated," Klisoura stated frankly, drinking some more wine with a smile and regarding Kaira carefully with those mismatched eyes of hers. There was a pregnant pause during which Kaira almost thought to speak, but the collie then continued. "Zere are two ozzer guests here, mademoiselle, with whom you should speak."

"You haven't spoken with them, yourself?" Kaira wondered, cocking one brow.

"Zey were...less zan cooperative, I'm afraid," Klisoura admitted. "But you should have better odds, I think."

"Und why would that be?" the cat questioned. The border collie smirked over the brim of her wineglass.

"Well, one of them tried to seduce you when you arrived, I believe."

Kaira blinked a few times before her shoulders sagged and she let out a groan.

"The otter?"

"Oui," Klisoura replied, taking another sip of her wine and drag of her smoke before she put out the butt. "And his wolf...friend. Zey have only arrived in town just recently and we have reason to distrust zem. Per'aps zey were involved with ze incident last night, in some way. Anyt'ing you could find out one way or ze ozzer would be something we could make worth your while, oui?"

Kaira leaned back in her seat with a sigh and sucked in a deep breath from her cigarette that nearly burned the whole thing down to the filter. She put out what was left in the ashtray and demolished what remained of her wine to chase the smoke.

"Very well," Kaira ventured. "I don't see them about - they left for the evening?"

"It would appear so," Klisoura agreed. "Zey were both hitting ze bottle...razzer hard. I don't think they should be up any time too early tomorrow. Perhaps it would be wise to retire for ze evening and be prepared for zem in ze morning? I can give you a text if zey somehow manage an early start," the collie added, once again tapping the business card she'd tucked away.

"Ja," Kaira nodded. "Danke. At the very least a good night's sleep and early breakfast should give me a nice head-start on a couple of hung-over letches."

"Très bien," Klisoura stood with a smile, tipping her glass at the feline seated across from her. "I trust you will be careful, mademoiselle? We do have reason not to trust zem. Ze otter is seeking to keep a low profile for some reason or ozzer and we know not'ing about ze wolf. Both of zem...zey are armed."

Kaira smiled, herself, and got to her feet.

"I can handle myself - but danke." She extended a friendly, open paw to Klisoura who gave it a firm shake.

"A pleasure doing business with you, mademoiselle," said the collie.

"Und you, mademoiselle," Kaira returned. Klisoura smiled wider and gave a nod to the bottle of wine on the table.

"You may take zat back to your room if you like," she suggested. Kaira shook her head.

"Nein. I would prefer a sound sleep und clear head, tomorrow; danke, again."

"Very well," Klisoura replied, retrieving the bottle and Kaira's empty glass before turning to head over to the bar. She paused before departing, wine bottle under her arm and glasses in one paw to free up the other so that she could doff her cap with a bit of a bow. "Zey are both in room five, by ze way. Oh, and welcome to Paris."

Kaira gave an appreciative nod and smile before the collie turned and wound her way back to the bar. Someone from a nearby table tried to get Kaira's attention in slurred French, but the feline ignored his advances easily enough and picked her way back to the stairs.

Room five. The otter and the wolf. Foreigners. Both armed.

She hadn't learned anything overly specific, but it was more information than she'd hoped to acquire in one evening. One lead was better than nothing, at least. Besides, if those two had aroused that much suspicion from the owners of this establishment theirs seemed as good a trail to follow as any.

Kaira ascended the stairs and found her way back to her own room - number two. Room five was just down the hallway. It shouldn't be hard to keep tabs on them from here, at least. Kaira didn't expect they'd be up before her, however. She might have had a long day of preparations and travel but she would not sleep soundly tonight. Not when she was so close. She knew she'd been pointed in the right direction; she could _feel_it.

The feline lingered by the entrance to her room, casting a glance down the hall at room five. Soon. She smiled to herself and turned the key to gain entry to her quarters. All things considered, for Kaira it had been a good night.

The shrill beeping of Avinglad's watch jerked him into wakefulness. It took him a moment or two to get his bearings. The big wolf shook his head and lifted the watch to his face, squinting with bleary eyes against its harsh light and shutting the damned thing up with the press of a button.

Two in the morning.

Avinglad curled his tongue with a big yawn before he sat up, feeling suddenly alert as he recalled the purpose for having set his alarm in the first place. He paused and listened carefully, pointed ears twitching a few times. Nothing. No muffled sounds from downstairs. The tavern had gone silent for the night.

The Scotsman could hardly suppress a grin as he carefully grasped his pistol and got to his feet. He paused to assess the room, straining his eyes to pick out whatever details he could with what little light filtered through the window from the street outside. He scanned the bed quickly, and for a moment his heart jumped into his throat when he realized it was unoccupied.

Damnit, where's the otter?

Avinglad carefully rounded the corner of the alcove where the entrance to the room was tucked away. He noticed that the bathroom door, adjacent to the entrance, was ajar. Golden light spilled out around the edges of the threshold. Avinglad clenched his teeth and crept forward, placing a heavy paw on the door and gingerly pushing it inward.

He winced from the brightness of the lit room, eyes taking a moment to adjust. When they did the wolf exhaled a sigh of relief as he discovered that Kaw was not awake. The otter knelt before the toilet, oh-so gracefully slumped over the bowl. He'd folded one arm against the rim of it and there rested his head, slack-jawed, snoring softly while a few strands of drool trailed from his muzzle into the toilet bowl below. The room reeked of vomit but thankfully it didn't appear that the otter had misplaced any of it.

Avinglad turned to carry on his way and he nearly shut the door before hesitating. He frowned and furrowed his brow, wondering why he even gave a damn, before cracking the door open again and craning his neck to peer back into the loo.

"Oi, otter," he muttered, barely a whisper. Kaw didn't respond. Avinglad sighed. "Otter!" he tried again, a little louder. That got the mustelid to jolt a little, and his eyes flickered as his head lolled against his arm.

"Hnnh?" he wondered intelligently.

"D'ye...d'ye need anything in there, lad? Ye doin' alright?" Avinglad asked. Kaw looked up at him with flickering eyelids, clearly struggling to see anything at all between the bright light of the room and his lack of glasses.

"Mm...nnno, 'mokay, thanksh," he bubbled miserably. Fuckin' liar.

"Right, well, ye just...keep there, will ye? I'll step out a moment and see if I can find somethin' for you," Avinglad offered. It was as good an excuse as any to get out of the room for a time.

"Mmmkay," Kaw mumbled, nodding weakly before he appeared to lose consciousness again.

"I'm takin' the key," Avinglad added, even if the otter likely couldn't hear, before he ducked out of the room again and gingerly closed the door. He threw on his coat and paused to check his pocket to ensure he did, indeed, have the key; then he wrapped his fingers around the knob of the door leading out into the hall and opened it carefully.

All was quiet in the corridor. The lights were still on, of course, but having peered into the bathroom Avinglad's eyes had had time to adjust. Avinglad moved with careful, deliberate steps; the late night quiet had him on edge, making every creak of the floorboards under his feet seem almost deafening. He closed the door to Kaw's room behind him and sighed as he stood out in the centre of the hall. His heart was pounding in his chest and he was a little short on breath, so the wolf paused a moment or two to calm himself.

It took some concentration, but Avinglad managed to relax the tension in his body with a bit of effort. He looked to the right, where a bend in the hall led to the stairway heading down to the tavern proper. To his left another couple of rooms gave way to another turn in the corridor, down which the otter had pursued the harlot, earlier. There was silence and stillness in either direction.

And there, just to his left, immediately next-door to the room where he'd spent a night - that was where the skunk-girl had disappeared. The one whom had called out to Damon. A Damon, at any rate.

It could be any Damon, Avinglad reminded himself. He tried to reason with himself, to keep his expectations in check. It wasn't working, of course. His paws were shaking, so the burly wolf took another deep breath and balled them into fists.

He remembered then that he was still clutching his Eagle, so he holstered the pistol for a moment without bothering to clasp it in place. He may have needed it again soon, after all. Avinglad stepped quietly over to stand in front of the room next-door, his paws fidgeting anxiously by his sides.

Room seven. He stared at that door long and hard.

"Time to put an end to this nightmare, one way or t'other," the wolf breathed at length, almost startling himself when his own voice broke the late-night silence.

Avinglad knelt in front of the door and took a moment to lean his head against it, pressing his ear to its surface cautiously. Nothing. Content with that, the Scot reached inside his coat and rummaged through a pocket before he was able to produce a small lock-picking kit. He unfurled the canvas roll across one of his legs and selected a couple of picks he thought suitable for the task.

He hadn't had cause to use the kit all that often so Avinglad was a little clumsy with it and cursed a few times as he struggled to pick the lock. Thankfully his acute sense of hearing helped to shore up any weaknesses he may have had as a locksmith and he managed to make quick work of the security measures for the room, such as they were. It was also just as lucky that the room hadn't been locked with the chain on the inside of the door.

Avinglad held his breath as he got back to his feet and stowed his lock picks, one hand on the grip of his pistol while the other grasped the edge of the door. He inched it inward slowly, cautiously, gritting his teeth at every creak and groan in the wood or hinges.

After what seemed an eternity there was enough space for him to step into the room. He moved gingerly, slowly putting his weight into each footfall to minimize the sound of his passage. Once inside he shut the door cautiously and took the liberty of latching the chain, himself.

He turned to face the darkness of the room whilst reaching into another pocket for his torch. When he found it Avinglad directed its beam of light toward the floor, only venturing to raise it slowly, gradually, to reveal more of the room.

It appeared more or less as a mirror of the otter's accommodations next door. Immediately to the right, instead of the left, was the door to the small lavatory. Straight ahead was a dresser and a small coffee table with some chairs set up in front of the window, through which filtered the wan light from the street outside.

Avinglad crept forward beyond the alcove which nestled the doors to the bathroom and hallway and turned the focus of his flashlight to the right, over the foot of the bed there and the shape of a body - two bodies - beneath the blankets.

The wolf's pistol had left its holster almost before he realized it, but he kept the muzzle of the weapon pointed at the floor, merely at the ready. Avinglad tensed as he directed his torch's beam over the face of one of the bed's occupants and she stirred momentarily. Thankfully she didn't open her eyes, but Avinglad moved the light away from the skunk-girl's face regardless; he was much more interested in the owner of the strong, black-furred arm that was draped 'round her figure.

Avinglad froze in place when his light revealed the owner of that appendage and his suspicions were confirmed.

Damon. There's no mistake.

Avinglad's breath caught in his throat as he deftly thumbed off the safety on his firearm and brought it level with the umber fox before him. Long seconds passed in silence.

What're ye waitin' for? The wolf though, chastising himself: Pull the trigger! This is easy! Ye've done it afore! His gaze flickered to the serene face of the mephit girl curled against Damon's chest as the small spoon. He couldn't say why, but there was something oddly familiar about the young lady...

What's the lass to ye anyway? It's not like you're going to hurt her. If anything you'll be doing her a favour!

Damon stirred, and Avinglad's finger tightened on the trigger of his weapon. But the fox merely squeezed his arms tighter around his companion, pulling her snug against his chest. The skunkette let out a tiny sigh of content.

This wasn't right. Is there some mistake? The creature before him wasn't Damon. It couldn't have been. It was Damon Vulpes, sure enough; that was plain as day. Damon Vulpes, the fugitive from Manchester. But it wasn't the same creature from Avinglad's nightmares; this young man holding a young woman tenderly to his bosom, nestled together in the warm embrace of a restful sleep.

Avinglad grit his teeth in frustration. The monster from his memories, the thing which haunted his nightmares...it wasn't something capable of knowing peace or rest or kindness. So what was this creature here before him?

This can't be him...it can't be...but it is. DAMNIT, WHY CAN'T YE PULL THE TRIGGER, LAD?! Avinglad snarled low under his breath and extended his arm to its fullest, sighting down it at Damon's face, his finger tense on the trigger. Tense, but unwilling to budge.

Time passed and Avinglad's fingers began to ache from the strain of staying perfectly still with an iron grip on his pistol. After an age the wolf lowered his weapon and his body all but deflated. A heavy sigh escaped his lungs. He turned on the spot and left the room in a hurry.

Avinglad couldn't have been sure how quiet - or not - his departure had been. The world around him was a blur between the ringing of blood pounding in his ears and his vision blurring with tears. He closed the door securely on his way out and returned his weapon to its holster, buttoning it shut this time.

He didn't make it the rest of the way back to Kawauso's room.

Instead Avinglad leaned against the door, paw on the handle, before he turned and put his back to it, slumping to the floor. He caught his face in his thick paws and wept while his legs bunched up against his chest.

"Th'fuck is wrong with ye, Avinglad?" the wolf cursed at himself. "That was yer moment...he was right there - is right there! Sleepin' like a wee baby..."

And that was the problem.

The man in that room wasn't the devilish creature from Avinglad's nightmares. It had been Damon Vulpes - an ordinary fox.

"Just doesn't make sense," Avinglad lamented, fingers falling away from his face as he let his head fall back against the door. His temples were throbbing and it hurt to stare up at the lights ensconced in the walls, so Avinglad allowed his eyes to drift shut. Sure enough his tired mind followed suit and he drifted into a troubled, if fitful sleep.