Leader of the Pack

Grisly Bar

Worn wooden floors stained with ages of spilled drinks (and worse), creak under the feet of patrons as they enter the dark, disordered room. Though dust has settled over a lot of the establishment, making it appear abandoned, the flow of customers would speak differently. Dirty glasses, some with sticky yellow patches in the bottom where beer or scotch has been allowed to dry, stand on one end of the bar.
Several of the windows have been bricked up to prevent vandalism, but create a great fire-hazard. There is a tarnished mirror on the wall behind the bar with a chipped and fading Art Nouveau nymph painted across the bottom.

It's late afternoon and the bar flies are in full force. Luckily because it's Sunday, there aren't many of them — most of them still sleeping off their Saturday night hangovers. The one person who sticks out like a sore thumb in this crowd is sitting a table by himself, picking the label off of a full beer bottle. He's ditched his normal attire for something a bit more casual. It helps that he's not wearing glasses and he hasn't shaved in a couple of days. Still, he's a lot less gruff looking than most of the patrons. Mischa is focused on peeling away the label to his untouched beer bottle, eyes flitting towards the door every now and again. He looks at the wristwatch on his left wrist and sighs very quietly, reaching up to adjust the glasses that aren't there. Instead, he rubs the bridge of his nose.

There are some people that simply command attention and respect the moment they enter the room. Eli happens to be one of them. As he lumbers into the bar at the appointed time, there is a faint scowl of annoyance on his grizzled features. As he moves, he meets the eyes of one of the waitress and then sends her off to get him his regular with a nod of his head. There is no pomp or circumstance in the way he marches over to sit across from Mischa. "Well," he grunts. "I'm here, Alexandrov. What is it?"

"I'm glad you could make it, Mister Donato… please sit." Mischa says, fidgeting in his chair as he considers if he should stand to greet the pack leader. Eventually he bows his head and pops the cap of his beer bottle off. "Right, you don't want your time wasted. I called you here because a friend of mine has a problem. Someone very dear to her was turned, and she can't make them believe it. Her father was bitten by the same wolf and his body rejected the change." Mischa takes a long pull from his beer bottle, looking up at Eli a little bit quizzically. "What are we supposed to do when the change happens? Shove the woman in a cage beforehand, tell her it's for her own good, and then hope she knows we're telling the truth later? Or do we let her go on a rampage?" Pause. "Yes, that's why I called you here. Yes, I'm a moron. I /know./"

Eli quirks his brows slowly at Mischa, who wastes no time in delving right into his issues. "Didn't even wait for my damn beer ta come." He comments in a gruff, despite the fact that he did just ask for the reason straightforward. But as he listens to the man, his eyes begins to narrow darkly. The questions the shifter asks are shoved aside for later. "A wolf? S'it a were that did this, boy? In my territory?" His nose is wrinkled with distaste. "Do you know who's done it? They must pay for their crimes. I will need to meet the victim, and maybe even your friend."
After that moment, Eli's drink arrives, and the waitress is dismissed without even a 'thank you'. A generous swig is swallowed. "You lock 'er up. She'll be confused, and it aint goin' ta be pretty, but if she got out, there aint no tellin' what kind of damage she'd deal while under The Change. Alexandrov, I hope you really appreciate how necessary secrecy is to our survival."

Mischa nods to the waitress in thanks, seeming rather unphased by Eli's words for the most part — and especially his attitude. "That's what I suspect, anyway. Why would a wolf randomly go into someone's house and attack them for no reason?" There's a pause after that, and Mischa licks his lips in consideration. "The girl — my friend. She was in trouble with… some important people. I think it may have been an attack against her." He pushes his beer away and looks over the bar, taking in a deep breath. "I'm not sure if her mother is responsive or not yet, but you can talk to my friend. I don't know if you keep up with the news or not, but the name might be familiar. Cornett?" Mischa asks, leaning in and murmuring it to Eli. He nods to the man's advice, then tilts his head at the last bit of what Eli says. "I know. There's a reason my family has survived so long. It wasn't because we advertised this to everyone."

"Gaddamn." Eli lets out a low whistle. "Just what we need 'nother rogue, money grubbin' bastard out there who wont take responsibility for his bastards. I'll be lookin' into it. You rest assured. I don't take kindly when this sort of stuff happens on my turf. And yes. Make it happen. I want ta meet this Cornett girl." When asked if he looks to the news, Eli shakes his head. "And be brainwashed by the gaddamn media? No sir. But regardless, you did good tellin' me this." Beat. "I suppose I'll have to arrange for the victim, then. Assemble the pack and let 'em know that we'll have another to account for."

Mischa seems more than reassured by Eli's words. And well, even slightly beamy at the man's praise. Though that doesn't last long. "Alright, I'll put her in contact with you." He seems even more relieved that Eli hasn't been following the news surrounding the incident. Mischa picks his beer up and takes a long drink before setting it on the table, nodding to Eli. "And thank you for coming and listening. And for making the arrangements. I'll try to help as much as I can with The Change, if need be. It sounds like this is the real deal though, from what I get…" He trails off, letting out a tiny sigh before he reaches up to rub at the bridge of his nose.

Eli ends up quirking his brows once again, bushy as they are, as he fixes Mischa with a stare. Taking in his drink, he swallows a mouthful as he decides how to word his next utterance. "You're welcome. It's my job, as the Alpha, to show that we appreciate loyalty. And you will be called, with the Change. Then again, you're welcome to run with us any time, Alexandrov. The real deal? What d'you mean by that?"

"The Change. The police say she was bitten, and so did she after the accident. There's still a chance I could be wrong about this…" Mischa shakes his head at Donato as he stands to leave, offering a hand to the man. "But I don't think I am. Thanks, Mister Donato. Again." Mischa reaches into his pocket with the other hand and takes a crumpled twenty dollar bill, putting it on the table. Enough to pay for his beer, Eli's, and to give the waitress a healthy tip when she swings back around. For all intents and purposes, Eli's time isn't to be wasted — and Mischa seems just as antsy as him. After all, poor Laura Cornett's time of need is coming. There are only three more days, if that, to the full moon.

"Then we will see. There's no use in speculatin' about it now. We will be prepared for the worst." Eli announces without hesitation, only certainty. The hand is eyed, but after a moment he does nod to it, reaching over to pump Mischa's hand once in a professional manner. "You should be prepared to. You and your friend. Take care of them."

That's really all the more Mischa needs to here. He returns the professional little handshake before he nods in thanks to the pack leader once more, heading out the door in order to go find Chloe.

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