Sombra Alley is on the other side of a different alley, safely away from any windows, and he's killing small animals again.
Really, if someone were to force him to admit to enjoying something, it would probably be rat-hunting, which is (I'm sure I don't need to tell you) a little strange.

As usual, he is dressed all in black, long-sleeved, seemingly unaffected by the warm weather, and sitting perfectly still. That is, until a rat comes along, becomes accustomed to his presence, et cetera (we've been through this before)...and a flick of his cane...
It squealed this time; he'd hit it in the spine rather than the skull, and had not broken it cleanly. He looked bemused (a little)--he never missed. Never. This would need further investigation.
He continued to stare at the dying rat, his expression very slightly troubled.

The best way for a wolf to travel in this city is through the alleyways. There really are quite a few people who are afraid of large canines, and still others who're always ready to call the local animal shelter of wildlife preserve. So to avoid those kind of people, Darcy sticks to alleyways, or other places where a big doglike creature can go mostly unnoticed.

The large shaggy-furred wolf slowed his pace as he approached the man, and then stopped entirely. He blinked innocently at Sombra, and then lowered his snout to sniff at the rat.
Aw. Poor li'l half-squished rodent.

"Hey, awesome, you broke its back this time."

She wasn't leaning out of a window, and she was rather more brilliantly coloured--mostly purple, with a few accents of neon green. Rather painful to the eyes, in fact, if one stared too long--but it was definitely the same girl who had dumped a bucket of water on him the other day.

"Hi, wolfie."

She grinned a feral grin and twinkled her fingers at both of them.

No, she has no reason whatever to be in the alley, she just wants to be.

"It would appear so." Sombra murmured, and poked at Darcy's nose with the recently bloodied tip of his cane. "Away from that, you fiend. It's mine."
Which is verbal for Sombra; like many, he is somewhat less reserved around animals (ha--less reserved meaning that he might string ten or so words together).

Darcy snorted as the end of the cane made contact with his nose. Ewww. Blood smell. Rather defiantly, he bent down and picked the rat up in his teeth, shook it hard, and dropped it to the ground, by Sombra's feet. He didn't like to see things suffer, even rats. Better that it met its end quickly.

"Isn't it cuuuuuuuute?" cooed Meg, referring to Darcy-the-wolf.

Yes, she finds large canines that have just shaken a rat to death, with blood on their snouts, and that look like they could easily tear her to pieces if the idea occurred to them unspeakably cute.

She poked Sombra.

"Isn't it?"

Sombra stared at Darcy for a long moment, then nodded.
"I would have done it myself, you know," he told the wolf. Then he turned to Meg, and his expression showed a bit more distaste. He sidestepped away from her, swatting at her hand.
"More appealing than you, certainly."

Sure you would, he thought, looking skeptical (if a wolf could look skeptical).
Darcy pretended not to have understood Sombra, instead turning his attention to Meg. It was nice that she thought he was cute enough to coo over, though he thought she had a strange definition of cuteness. He pushed the top of his head against her knee, trying to get her to scratch behind his ears.

She obliged, rather skillfully.

"Aw, I'm hurt. You ought to be nicer." Pause.

"I forgot your name. Or if you told it to me. Did you?"

Pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, he began to clean the head of his cane, keeping his haughty gaze somewhere in the middle distance.
"Professor Alley, though you may address me as simply Alley if you please."

Dracy had an expression on his face that implied that, if he was a cat, he'd be purring. He eagerly nuzzled Meg's hand, but watched Sombra from the corner of his eye. Strange guy, this one... he thought.

"How 'bout Prof?"

A purring wolf would be interesting. Thus, Meg makes it happen. The sound of a completely contented cat fills the alley around them, as it would be if the cat were the size of Darcy.

That's some loud purring.

"Oo's a good wolfie, den?"

"No."
He shook his head. At the purring noise, he almost looked as if he might smile, but then he didn't.

I'm a good wolfie, Darcy thought, then chuckled inwardly, glad that no one could hear what he was thinking. At the purring, he perked up his ears and pulled away from Meg, looking around. The hell...?
No cat. How strange.

Well... Meg is strange. Though not as strange as some I could mention. Like Alexander.

She giggled at the wolf's reaction.

And the purring (which had just been her rather loud comment on the blissful expression on Darcy's face) turned into mewing. Only kitten-size mewing, instead of Darcy-size.

"Would you please," Sombra said, glaring dully at Meg, "stop that abominable noise?"

Darcy pulled away from them both to sniff at the ground and look around, wondering vaguely how Meg was making those kitten-noises.


((Blahshort. ))

"Nope." She grinned charmingly at Sombra and fluttered her eyelashes, playing the innocent, then giggling at Darcy's response.

"Silly wolfie. Hey, d'you have a name?"

He smells like magic, by the way. Smell being substituted here for a sense that really doesn't have a name in English, but that is close enough to 'smell' that the word can be used.

Sombra sneered at Meg and folded his arms.
Idiots, all of them. Not worthy of his attention. He folded his arms and turned his gaze to the sky.

Darcy would have shrugged if he hadn't known how very un-wolf-like that would make him appear. He just gave Meg a puzzled look, as if he didn't understand what she was asking. He wasn't wearing the collar that had his nametags on it, so he couldn't even show her those.

Then he turned to Sombra, padding over and snffng around him - seeing as he was a large wolf, and Sombra was sitting down, he was almost at eye level.