Outside the shop, and down the side was Morgan's truck. It was the standard full sized Dodge Ram, paint a little chipped and body a bit dinged from heavy working, but chances were it ran perfectly. Probably even better than when it was on the showroom floor back in 1998. "Get in, smart ass. It's not locked."
"’Dear’, ‘ass’, ‘girl’... Man, you oughta be careful, or I'm gonna get the impression that you like me something hard, man." Seth was shaking his head as he got into the truck, scooting up onto the seat easily. "So, pub fair and a Were-waitress. This evening is turning out to look pretty good." He buckled his seatbelt and began drumming his fingers on the dash.
"So, you never did answer me... Why is it you don't hang with your own people?"
Morgan climbed into the truck, the whole things shifting to one side as he did, and adjusted his bulk into the seat. "Like you? I'd break you, stick man." He had no interest in men, but he also didn't balk at the normal homophobe jokes most men did. He knew who he was and what he was. "Yeah... Just watch yourself around her. She's a predator."
He fired up the truck and pulled it out of the shop-yard smoothly. They hit the road and it was a few more minutes before Morgan spoke again to respond to Seth. "Why?" He shrugged. "I'm not social."
"Aw, I feel the first flames burning...like napalm. Looks like you and I ain't got much romance to us, uhn? S'fine, I get enough love from my machines - and it seems so do you." He paused at Morgan's next comment. He shifted himself under the seatbelt strap and pursed his lips. "Look, I know I don't look like it, but I'm a predator too. I can deal. But, I gotta ask...she tough shit, or something? Is she gonna give me your share of sternum-thumpings?" Seth wasn't interested in men either, and perhaps because of his rampant heterosexuality, he was extremely comfortable jesting around. He'd won a fair few rounds of Gay Chicken with Reese and Mickey and Joel.
Morgan shook his head slowly and sighed. He knew he should explain before they got to the pub, about Moriah, but some sick little sadistic part of him wanted to see what would happen if Seth wasn't warned. After a few seconds deliberation, he decided to forewarn his new friend. "I don't mean predator by breed." He started, already he'd spoken more to Seth than he had to anyone else in a long time. "If she weren't a Were, she'd still be a predator." He didn't want to give the wrong impression, so he didn't go into details of what he meant. Moriah really was a good person, she just had some bad habits when it came to people. And if you knew what to watch for, you're fine. Something Morgan had to learn the hard way. "And yeah, she's a scrapper. She gets a thrill from it."
"Aw yeah?" Seth felt a little thrill of warning. That didn't bode well, really. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he wasn't going to act on it. He just had a sneaking suspicion about this kind of Dame. He'd been in relationships with ones like that before. Hadn't gone too well. "I'll try'n keep my trap filled with food and maybe I won't get slapped about in something that ain't my battle."
"That might work." The bison replied, pulling into the parking lot of the pub. The Hunter's Moon was part pub, part restaurant, like most turned into these days. Originally owned by a Were, he'd heard, it now was under ownership by a family that had no idea about the wars outside their comfortable walls. Still, it was good food, big portions and relatively close. Lots of beer to choose from too, which Morgan liked. "We're here." He announced after parking and shutting the truck off.
"Good thing too, I could eat a horse." Seth quipped, getting out of the truck and swinging his arms over his head. "Let's go meet this viper of yours..." He added, unconsciously tightening the sleeves of his coveralls about his waist. He strode forward and opened the door of the Pub, and held it open for the other man. "Drivers first. After you..."
Morgan pulled himself from the truck and slammed the door shut behind him. He didn't lock the door because, well, who would steal the truck? It wasn't stylish or anything. Besides, if it did get stolen, he was sure he could find it again. And when he did, he'd use The Beast to run the thieves over. It needed a good test drive anyways.
"She's not a viper. She's an owl. And she might not even be working tonight." He knew she would be. He knew her schedule quite well. Funny how he only seemed to come in on nights she was working.
He walked past Seth and into the pub. The place was pretty standard. Lots of wood decor, pool tables, darts, pull tab machines here and there. Notched but well taken care of wooden tables. There was even several television screens displaying various sporting events distributed through the place. One of the guys behind the bar nodded to Morgan and he nodded back, heading for a table off to the side. He wedged himself into a chair and relaxed just a little, taking in the smell of beer and cheese and whatever else the kitchen had been cooking a lot of tonight. He didn't bother looking at a menu, he knew what was on it. Beside it was only two pages and one of those was just appetizers and finger-type foods. The other was mainly burgers and other pub fare.
Then he caught sight of her. Moriah. She was working just like he knew she would be. She in turn noticed him and with a sigh, made her way to the table. She was dressed primarily in black, as always, a combination of goth and punk. Dark hair with chunks of lighter and darker colour throughout. She wore a black skirt with silver safety pins over blood red tights. Her tall doc marten boots still gleamed glossy black in the moderate lighting. Her features were a little angular but pretty, although she never carried a warm expression. In fact she always looked like she was sizing up prey.
"Hey Moriah. Bring a pitcher." he told her when she got to the table.
"Yeah, the usual. And what about you? You want something to drink too?" She asked looking at Seth with a critical copper-coloured eye. Her tone was a bit cold, and it was clear she was only here for a paycheque. She gave the impression she'd rather be elsewhere but she wasn't. She was here and working. If they had been normal customers, she'd put on the facade of charm but they were Weres and she couldn't be bothered hiding who she was from them.
Seth let his eyes run up her as she approached - not checking her out like a patron at the bar was, but looking at her. She had a hard look to her, a frigid efficiency that obviously could turn nasty right-quick. Seth smiled easily and without even looking at the menu replied easily, in a voice that showed it was proving nothing, just easily confident. "Give me your best burger and a pint of whatever dark lager you'd recommend. Onion rings on the side, instead of fries, if you would." He eased himself back in his chair, hooking one boot up on the bar between the legs and rested his elbow against the armrests of the chair and had himself a good look around.
Morgan allowed Seth to order and then nodded to Moriah. "The usual." was all he had to say to place his food order. Moriah knew it. Heck, the cook was probably already starting it as soon as Morgan walked through the door. He was predictable when it came to food, but he knew what he liked and was fine with it. He always meant to change things up someday. He almost smiled as he pictured the look on Moriah's face if he ordered anything different. Then the realization that she really didn't care came creeping back.
"Surprise, surprise." She commented dully before turning on her heel and walking away from the table.
"Since you keep asking me why I don't run with a Crew, which Crew do you run with mainly?" Morgan asked plainly of Seth.
"My Crew? I thought it was obvious. I run with Mickey's. The only mother tough enough to run a bunch of our kind. He's a tough bastard, used to be a tough-guy champion, from rough places. He's lived in core New York, Johannesburg, Cairo." Seth shook his head. There were many more places Mickey'd been - or as he liked to put it 'lived through'. But Seth figured Morgan wasn't all that interested in the finer details. "Of our boys, we've got me, Tyler, Jaime, Joseph, and now little Topher. That's not mentioning the few regular boys we have who could take care of themselves easy - Rowan, Reese, Mickey himself, and Jason, fuck man, he's ex-military for chrissakes." Seth grinned, remembering good times with his crew. "We're a tough load of bastards, I'll tell ya. All good people...well, I dunno about Jason Trelly...he's something else entirely."
Morgan shrugged. He'd heard of only a few of the others Seth had mentioned and didn't even know some of those were Weres as well. Had he cared a bit more, he might have been embarrassed that he'd asked what was apparently a dumb question. Instead he just absorbed the information and filed it away in his brain in case he needed it sometime. It would likely fade away in a few days, to be replaced by some other tidbit of knowledge. Likely knowledge of a mechanical nature. Still, Seth's crew, or Mickey's technically, sounded like a hard bunch of guys. It was kind of comforting that they were out there fighting for their kind.
"You sound like a bunch of badasses." He commented before Moriah returned with the drinks. She deposited Seth's dark lager and a pitcher of ale for Morgan, then left without a word. Morgan watched her go, then resumed what he was saying. "Some Ed guy came by when I moved to town. Didn't like him much. Too intense for me."
Seth raised his glass to Moriah, but she just walked away. "Friendly..." He muttered to himself. He took a sip as Morgan started talking, smacking his lips appreciatively at the taste of it. "Good brew..." Another mutter. But when Morgan mentioned Ed, hell, how could Seth not snort? Seth had gone through Ed's brand of training back in basic training. It didn’t stick too well with him then either. Apparently Seth McGrath had too much of a problem with 'authority figures' to be a part of 'this man's army'. He shook his head. "Ed's Ed... I sincerely hope you ain't judging yer whole kind on that pisser? Ed's Crew is a bunch of tough people, sure, but they take the whole thing as serious as suicide bombers, man. I don't get along with hardly none of 'em. Mind ya, I try not to piss 'em off too bad, 'cuz they're good at what they do to be sure." Seth shook his head again and had another sip. "Seriously. If Ed was your first impression...Well, I hope I can make up for that." Seth half-bowed in his chair, the coyote grin on his face again.
The problem was, Ed was the first impression he'd gotten of the city's Were population. Try as he might not to, he had made judgments based on that encounter. Inside he knew that Ed was just one guy. He couldn't possibly be the master mould to all the local Weres, but Morgan just didn't have the desire to seek any others out after meeting Ed. Sad, but true.
"I'm sorry." he spouted. "If you trained under than Neanderthal, you have my sympathies." Morgan cracked a slight smile, but kept his Ed bashing comments low. Moriah was one of Ed's people. Tough as nails and about as unforgiving too.
He picked up the pitcher of ale like it was a giant stein and drank from it. Moriah had stopped bringing him a glass after the third or fourth time he'd ordered his super-sized beer. Not many other regulars looked twice anymore either.
"So, you think I should find a crew?" He asked, not really too keen on the idea but knowing having someone watch your back was always a good thing. "Maybe I'll join yours." He added in jest, though there was a spark of truth to it too.
Seth laughed aloud and clapped his hands, applauding Morgan's use of the pitcher. "Remind me never to get into a drinking contest with you, big man!" Seth was still chuckling to himself when Morgan made his quip about Ed. "Ah, yeah, I tried to join the army when I was 18... Didn't take. Ed's training reminded me too much of the army. It didn't take either. I had a look at what Dorian was teaching too, but it was a bit too mystical for this lil' brain to wrap 'round. I just do my own thing, fool about with Mickey now and then when I feel like getting my gears cleaned." Seth shook his head, remembering keenly the thud of getting his boss' fist in the jaw.
Then Morgan made his remark about joining a Crew and Seth grinned slyly at him, eyes squinting from his smile, sliding side-long like a fox to regard the bigger man. "You'd certainly be welcome with us, man. 20-pound sledge is welcome too." He full-out grinned then, two rows of white but crooked teeth. "Because, when nothing else is going down, we can at least talk shop and have a beer." He slapped the other lightly on the arm then, a friendly cuff to the bicep and wiggled his eyebrows as if daring the man to keep his word. "I'll take you ‘round anytime you feel up to it."
Morgan nodded. "Soon." That was all he said to Seth's invitation. He didn't know the others, but if they were like Seth, then he could manage to at least be social. Or as close as he got to social. It might not be so bad.
Moriah brought the food next. "Here you go. Burger, rings." She put the plate in front of Seth. The burger was large, on a Kaiser bun, with all the standard fixings and a whole basket of golden onion rings. It smelled good. "And pasta... as always." She handed the large bowl of pasta, heaped with a chunky vegetable sauce and a half loaf of French bread on the side. "One of these days, you'll order something less... lame." She sighed, shaking her head as she turned to leave again. Morgan either didn't notice, or didn't care.
"You're lucky. She's in a good mood tonight." He joked dryly as he started to eat.
Seth just grinned at him. He had no doubt that his Crew would be welcoming, and excited to have such a big, strong member to their team added. He'd spoken truthfully, after all.
Then the food came and he tucked into it, streaking juicy burger toppings down the corner of one side of his mouth and washing it down with beer. It was a good meal - surprisingly so for pub fair. He made a mental note to come here again, bring some of the guys down, play some pool... "Whut?" He managed through a full mouth of food. He wasn't entirely sure whether or not Morgan was joking about Moraiah but the comment made him a little nervous. Just a little...
He glanced around, trying to see where she'd gone off to.
Morgan shook off Seth's food-spraying question. "Nothing. I just meant Moriah tends to be a bit of a bitch, unless she's trying for a decent tip. She seems less abrasive tonight. That's all." Seth's reaction made Morgan laugh on the inside. It was almost like the coyote thought he meant Moriah had taken a liking to him. Whether she had or not, that wasn't what he'd meant. And he prayed that she hadn't actually. The men Moriah dated usually ended up hurt. Not emotionally, but physically. He'd smelled the blood from the marks she'd left on her last guy. He'd lasted a full week longer than most. Impressive for a normal human.
"After you're done." Morgan started after swallowing a mouthful of pasta and hunk of bread. "I'd like to see your shop, I think. Meet Mickey. Check things out, maybe." He took a long pull of ale from the pitcher to wash things down. "Okay with you?"
Seth nodded, a little reassured. He was glad she wasn't being overly bitchy tonight, as the personalities of servers made a huge difference to him for whether or not to support them. He glanced nonchalantly around, hoping that there might be other servers in the place, so that if he came in when she was in a foul mood, he might be able to dodge the bullet.
Then Morgan mentioned wanting to go 'round Mickey's, meet the crew. Seth grinned, scrubbing burger juice out of his goatee with a paper napkin. "You bet, chief. Likely won't be many o' us around at this hour, but Mickey lives in the shop, and there's usually one or two luckies that got roped into staying late." He had finished off his beer already, and was just on the last of his onion rings, so he wouldn't be much longer. He sucked the salt off his fingers and swigged back some complimentary water. He flicked a wrist, motioning to Moriah for the check as he polished off his onion rings. For such a wiry, small guy, he could scarf food away better and faster than most.
Morgan didn't wolf his food down like Seth did, but he did tend to eat large portions at a time. So a few moments after Moriah dropped the check, literally, off at the table, he chugged the last of the ale and was done too. "Gimme that." He responded, reaching for the check. "You wanna go back for your bike or go straight to Mickey's from here?"
"It depends, do you want me sleeping at yours or not?" Seth shot back, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows. "I've got a place to sleep at Mickey's if need be, and a place to park the Gunner there where it won't be in anyone's way. Your call, chief."
Seth stood up, tightening his overalls around his waist and sliding the check across the table to Morgan. "Thanks for the date. Now I'll have to put out."
"I'll drive you back to my shop to get your bike." Morgan responded with a deadpan expression. "I don't take advantage of anyone on the first date." He winked at Seth then, a small grin appearing on his face. He was of course joking with the coyote. As stated earlier, he wasn't interested in men. "I'll follow you to Mickey's then."
He pulled out his wallet and dropped a few bills onto the check tray and snatched a mint. It looked minute in his beefy hand. Then he stood up, pushing the chair back in with a scrape. "Let's go."
Seth barked an amused laugh in response and squinting through one eye grabbed a mint, squeezed it out of its wrapper, popped the candy into his mouth and left the plastic behind on the tray. He shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded. "After you, then. Thanks for the grub, and the tip 'bout this place." He sauntered towards the door and, turning from the hips, shouldered the heavy wood as he flung up the other hand in thanks to the staff. "Great food, guys! Thanks!!"
Then he pushed out into the night, still mild enough, but untied his coverall sleeves and shrugged them on, leaving the thing unsnapped to his waist. He stopped next to the passenger side door and waited for Morgan to unlock the door.
Morgan followed Seth out to the truck and, having not locked his side, climbed in. He hit the lock and opened the passenger side. Once Seth was in, he started her up and pulled out onto the road again. He wasn't all that talkative as they drove back to his shop. Maybe talking about mechanics and such to kill the time. Once back to Morgan's place, he unlocked the shop and opened the bay door so Seth could get his bike out, then locked everything up again. He did grab his twenty pound sledge though, and tossed it into the truck. Somehow, just knowing it was there made him more comfortable.
"Okay dogboy, lead on and remember I ain't as fast or maneuverable as you, yet."
"Oh, a'course, chief. I know you wanna get a good look at the Gunner's tail lights. ...Or my ass, whichever's prettier." He slipped an old, beat-up WWI vintage helmet on, with matching aerial goggles and swung one long leg over the machine. He slipped a key into the hood and righted it off the kickstand. He started her up with a smooth rumble and wheeled her forward a little. Then, hollering over the noise to Morgan, he yelled, "Tag! You're it!!"
Morgan climbed back into his truck and rolled the window down. "Just lead the way and stop being a smart alec." He gunned the engine of the truck, a rumble in its own right as he waited for Seth to get his bike on the road. "I'll be right behind yah, but I'm telling you now. I've seen better asses." He pulled his head back into the truck and cranked the radio back on. A little classic AC/DC echoed into the night as they hit the road.
Seth cackled another laugh, snapping the goggles into position over his eyes, grinning like a lunatic. "Never! A Smart ass is all I've got going for my boyish charm!" And then he kicked down onto the bike's seat, revving the gas with one hand and shifting into gear. His Gunner sped away in a streak of blue lights and gleaming tail pipe with surprisingly fluidity of motion for a machine its size. He turned on a dime and pulled out into the open road, heading back to Mickey's.
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