[He kept coming until he was standing beside her, newspaper moving from his head to hers, not that he felt it would do a fat lot of good. It was habit, mostly. His dad had raised him right, or so he liked to think. It didn't mean he thought of her as weaker than him, god no. She could break him with her pinky finger and probably not even break a sweat, but between his dad, his mom, and all those stupid old time movies he watched, he was the kind of guy that would hold open a door for a girl or not hit them (even if they hit him first) or... move his newspaper over the already sodden werewolf because shut up, she was a girl.]

What do I want?

[He looked at her incredulously, eyes wide as the rain started to flatten his hair down.]

I want you to pick up your goddamn phone. I want you to stop pulling disappearing acts. I want you to-- why are you just standing out here in the rain? Can werewolves get pneumonia? You're going to get pneumonia.