Otto had been certain the phrase was not uttered to him. He knew no one there, and few paid him mind. Still, the strange words echoed over and over, pointed at him. He turned on the stool, watching his knees as he turned, and looked down into the other man's eyes.
"Friend, I am going to have to pass," he said with a laugh.
Then, once the smell of the drinks passed, he could smell the blood of the werewolf passing through this one. Somewhere in the ale there was a beast. Otto had not been expecting that. He considered taking the man's offer, but reservation would be better. He had not seen another werewolf in a very long time.
"Sit, if you can manage it," he said instead.
"You just need a few more drinks in ya," Raivo said, slurred nearly to the point of jibberish. Even with the other wolf's sharpened hearing, it'd be a miracle for him to have made out the words. Even so, the giant Raivo had sniffed out must have comprehended what was being said better than Raivo himself.
ReplyDeleteFull of liquid courage, Raivo slapped the other wolf on the back while shouting at the barmaiden for another round, on him.
"No sense of adventure," he said, and somehow it was more coherent than his previous statement.