[ Dylan doesn't stir from his position when he hears the crunch of boots. He can smell it's Peter before Peter even settles down and the thought of that twists his stomach some. How fucking weird that people have a scent and he can recognize said scents. Hands (both of them because look, ma, he's got two hands) are wrapped around his knees as he sits there in the snow. Hypothermia? Can't get it now. Nothing can kill him now, minus silver. So he'd gone where he would be most alone.
It would have worked too if there wasn't another pesky werewolf who could track him down. Dylan doesn't look at him, chin on his knees. ]
Yeah. No one was supposed to find me....for. A while.
[ His eyes lower and then he reaches over with his regrown hand to pluck Peter's cigarette away and bring it to his lips. Dylan doesn't smoke on the regular, but he will in social situations. Shame that it isn't weed. He could really go for some weed right now. With the drag taken, he passes the cig back to its rightful owner. ]
You come to bring me back to society? Tell me I'm not some kind of twisted monster who lost an entire night of his life? Give me some positive, bullshit peptalk to make me feel better that I didn't kill anyone that night?
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It would have worked too if there wasn't another pesky werewolf who could track him down. Dylan doesn't look at him, chin on his knees. ]
Yeah. No one was supposed to find me....for. A while.
[ His eyes lower and then he reaches over with his regrown hand to pluck Peter's cigarette away and bring it to his lips. Dylan doesn't smoke on the regular, but he will in social situations. Shame that it isn't weed. He could really go for some weed right now. With the drag taken, he passes the cig back to its rightful owner. ]
You come to bring me back to society? Tell me I'm not some kind of twisted monster who lost an entire night of his life? Give me some positive, bullshit peptalk to make me feel better that I didn't kill anyone that night?