Hear me out

[Zephyr]

Being shot is an interesting experience. It’s something that Silas is fairly certain he isn’t eager to experience again. He’s never had to worry about it before, not that he goes around getting shot often, but it isn’t like he’s ever actively worried about it. He heals so fast normally, that even if he is shot, it isn’t anything to worry about. It was the goddamn silver that made the difference this time. The silver’s been gone for a while, but he still hasn’t healed completely. There’s a neat line of stitches over the wound on his shoulder, and he knows it’s going to fucking scar.

At least he isn’t being confined to fucking bed anymore. Being unable to do anything for so long rankled him. He knows that Nate only did it because he was worried (and his worry was probably completely justified seeing as Silas promptly tore his damn stitches the first change he was able to actually do something). Still, he’s glad that he’s able to actually do something besides lying in bed. Not that spending time with Nate and watching stupid movies with him is any sacrifice. He just likes being able to do something.

Even if that something is as menial as grocery shopping.

Having people over at his apartment really gives him an idea how slowly he goes through his liquor. His damn tolerance is so low that it will take him weeks to get through a large bottle, but Matthias and Nate are going through it like crazy. So, Silas decided to go to the grocery store to stock up on booze…and ice cream because Matthias seems to be stealing a lot of Silas’.

At present, he’s in the ice cream isle, shoving quart after quart of coffee flavored ice cream into his cart, which is already pretty full up with liquor. From top shelf bourbon to whiskey, everything in his cart is the hard stuff, and pretty high quality. He tosses the ice cream on top of the bottles upon bottles of alcohol and then stops down another isle to consider bags of chips for a moment. Silas hates shopping, he hates it, by what he’s been piling in his cart, it’s pretty apparent that he’s awful at it.

After he bypasses the chips and general junk food, he walks down the aisle a little aimlessly. A little girl stares into his cart after a second and Silas casts a glare at her, growling a little bit and the girl glares right back, kicking Silas in the ankle before she runs away. Silas stiffens, his entire body tightening up as a growl rumbles through his body. He thinks about going after the brat, but restrains himself, because beating up children isn’t something that’s generally looked highly upon in a public place.

Goddammit.

Silas hates shopping. He hates people. Fucking Boston.

[Billy]

Billy isnt exactly the best werewolf sensei of all time.

She's got as much control over her little devil as a kid does it's curiosity and it's ruling her to the ground. Unfortunately, Beau is being dragged along for the ride. Screaming if not kicking by his ankles.

In the nights when they arent intertwined, much more of one being then two separate; she wonders if he hates her. She wonders if he fears her. She wonders if he regrets meeting her that day in the bar, if he regrets taking care of her the way he had. (Coincidentally catching her wolves attention.) She wonders where he'd be now if she hadnt been drawn to him. If she hadnt returned to that podunk town a few days later looking for the man who always looked irritated with a big forehead.

And then on other days she wonders why she just doesnt smother him in his sleep.

In their relationship;their strange fucked up relationship. Lover to lover? Mother to son? Sister to brother? Everything in-between? She's regardless the one doing most of the nurturing. From everything red to blue. They've both got bad tempers and with the wolves brewing just beneath the surface neither of them can control going at each other's throats over little things. But the human side of Billy likes to try to rationalize, and 'rationalizing' means sneaking out to get some errands done when he's asleep and taking the money from his wallet and hoping he wont notice.

She's never been exactly a relationship ramona, okay.

Boston is a big city though. And generally she's confused and lost and woo'd by all of the flashing city lights. He's probably awake by the time she actually makes it to the grocery store. And probably blowing up the phone she'd left conveniently in their motel room smothered somewhere between the mattress. Woops. U mad?

She's strolling along the junk food aisle. Wondering what she can get away with stealing (didnt bring this big purse for nothing). When she catches the little kid sprinting away. Curiosity unfolds and she follows nose in suit. As nitpick as her harpy mother as she searches for the reasoning.

Needless to say, Silas isnt a bad looking man. And Billy has always had a thing for the silent broody type. He's not Beau (and honestly may not hold her a toothpick to him either) but his cart is filled to the brim with alcoholic goodies and ice-cream and this motherfucker for sure looks like he knows how to party.

And also like he's got a fat wallet she can appreciate.

What's that saying? You can take the ''Hill'' out of Billy but not the ''Billy'' out of ''Hill''. Or swapped. Either way she was a country bitch and old habits die hard.

Billy mosies on down her cart and stops somewhere near the man with a raised eyebrow and tilted chin. Smiling up a natural smile. A grin that always seems to reach her eyes these days.

"How-de-do stranger." She says, an accent that's offering up her origin on a silver platter. "Ya'n the habit of makin' little kids run off like that or what?"

She motions to the cart with a quick eye sweep. "What, didnt invite er' to ya lil' party? Shame."

[Zephyr]

The absolute last thing he’s expecting after getting kicked in the ankle by some little brat he can’t chase down is for someone to approach him when all he wants to do is get his ice cream back before it all melts. He’s understandably a little frustrated when she walks towards him and blocks his path bother literally and figuratively, and there isn’t anything he can do about it short of shoving his cart t her’s…which probably wouldn’t be the most polite thing the werewolf could do, but no one had ever accused Silas of being polite. Maybe once in his life, when he’d been a kid…but that was gone now.

So, instead of actually trying to get away, he takes a second to look over the woman. She’s actually attractive, which he wouldn’t expect from her accent. Not that her accent is bad he used to have a similar if not quite as thick accent before he’d moved away from his father, but it had faded over time. Now it only comes out when he’s tired or drunk, or deliberately trying to get a rise out of someone. Her words, on the other hand, aren’t as welcome as her appearance or accent.

Silas growls lightly, snorting lightly. “I hate kids.” Which is probably obvious from his little interaction with the little girl earlier, but still, he didn’t care if the damn brats ran away from him or not. In fact, he preferred it. It really was a lot less effort on his part not to have to deal with them. He’d never liked kids. If he had when he was young, he’d forgotten about in a haze of beer and drugs that were his college years. “Only when they get too close.” He finishes, a little amusement in the line of his jaw as a smile almost pricks the corner of his mouth.

Almost.

He’d amused himself. Too bad no one else got Silas’ brand of humor.

Then he realizes how awful his cart might look to a normal person when he sees her looking over it, and he’s instantly on guard. The wolf writhes in his head and growls defensively, but he pushes it back and shakes his head, swiping his tongue over his lips thoughtfully. “I hate parties too.” It makes someone wonder if there’s anything Silas does like. There are quite a few things he likes, but none of them he’d actually admit to.

Probably.

She is interesting though, this woman, in a way most other people just aren’t to Silas, and as claustrophobic he feels in this supermarket with so many people clustered around him, close enough to touch him if they tried, he focuses on her…otherwise he’d probably get into a supermarket fight…which is a lot less socially acceptable than a bar fight. He realizes why she’s so interesting when her scent washes over him.

Wolf.

Fanfuckingtastic.

He takes a second before he rolls his shoulders and looks at her, gaze a little softer than it had been before. “Who’re you?” he asks, his voice a soft growl, even though Silas isn't showing any desire to actually introduce himself.

[Billy]

The only werewolf she'd ever been knowingly around had been the less than charismatic Beau. So naturally when her little cat is out of the bag and Silas is now completely interested in her, Billy is likely to play it off to her fabulous people skills then look into the fact she senses something different about him.

No, she's much more likely to play him off as one of those grumpy men tropes and damn, there are sure a lot of them. All of which she has a knack for running into and befriending. Not that they had anything in common with her -- she was about as serious as a kitten with a ball of yarn.

“I hate kids.”

Billy makes some whistling sarcastic sound with her mouth and tilts her head a bit. There is a touch of mirth in the way her lips curl up genuine at the side. "Wouldn't 've ever guessed."

“I hate parties too.”

Now that takes her a little bit by surprise. What was this man doing with all of this then? What? Trying to kill himself? If she stood here and offered to help him drink some of that would that be like assisted suicide or what??

"Oh," She says simply. Probably a little flabbergasted as she blinks at him because it'd be too darn nosy to ask him what all of that was for and now that she was jumping to accusation she wasnt sure if she wanted too. Or if it was legally a good thing to know.

But luckily for the blonde Silas takes a leap to dominate the conversation before she's able to turn and awkwardly shuffle away defeated.

“Who’re you?”

She's a bit hesitant, although it doesnt really show because she's sticking out her hand invitingly and smiling again bright as a hundred watt lightbulb. Billy has never been one to stick to her paranoia. And although the horror movie survivalist inside of her is like ''mmm.... this is sketchy as fuck''. The werewolf finds itself leaning forward just a little closer to take a inconspicuous nose full. She's drawn to the scent; rather she realizes it or not.

But regardless of her gargantuan amounts of naivete, Billy has never been a fool.

"Ashley. Aint from round here." She pauses, shakes his hand if he'd offered it. "Reckon you can tell that already though. What's your name?"