He managed to wake up from the nightmares. He's not sure how he did it, but he did, and now he's outside, fumbling with his motorcycle and finding that his arms are not cooperating. He can barely lift his helmet.

That's probably because he was hanging by his arms for some time.

He has decided that if he gets a chance, he will put Wick in a jar and toss him in the LaCroix. Either that, or he'll ship him as a donation to some museum or other, preferably on another continent. He really, really doesn't like Wick.

Anyway.

"Stupid thing," he mutters and sits down, back against the wall, and closes his eyes. Just a bit of rest, then he'll go home...

Nightmares again. He whimpers and shifts. This is not fun. At all.

Darcy was padding cheerily along, occasionally pausing to sniff at a particularly interesting patch of sidewalk, when the acrid smell of fear bit sharply into his nostrils. He shook his head, snorting as if someone had splashed him with water when he wasn't expecting it. The fear-smell was mixed with a Dave-smell.

A half-grin lit his wolfish face. Dave!

And judging by the smell, he was very close by,...so why not drop by and say hello?
With a bit of pacing and some more snuffling about, Darcy found his way to the mouth of the alley where Dave keeps his motorcycle.

He's conveniently forgotten that Dave's afraid of dogs.

I suppose it's a good thing that Dave's stuck in the nightmare, for the moment. He doesn't know that Darcy's there, and so he can't get more scared than he already is.

Not to mention the fact that he's thoroughly terrified already.

Be a good wolfy and wake him up, do, Darcy.

Darcy gave a yip of greeting and trotted over. When it became apparent that Dave wasn't paying attention, he cocked his head to one side and stared curiously at him for a moment.

What's the matter with you...? Darcy leaned in, snuffling at him. Then he set his teeth in Dave's sleeve and gave a sharp tug. You're actually sleeping, aren't you? Out here? You're crazy. Wake up, come on now...

"... shit!"

Dave woke from one nightmare, right into another. He freezes and stares at the very large canine with very large teeth, right next to him, and him too tired to run away and too frightened to defend himself.

Not that he needs to, but he doesn't realize that.

He loosened his teeth from the sleeve, grinning like he'd really accomplished something, and bumped his cold, wet nose into the side of Dave's face. Giving a happy yip, he sat like a well-trained golden retriever, and waited patiently for Dave to scratch his ears or pet him, or at the very least realize that Darcy wasn't out to hurt him.

Darcy really has conveniently forgotten that Dave is not just afraid of dogs, he's cynophobic. Do we have to go through the entire complicated encounter again?

Dave pulls backwards, an expression of pure fear on his face.

"Go 'way, dog..."

Please?

His face fell. Aw,...that's right,...you're afraid of me...
Darcy gave a big, miserable sigh, slouching his shoulders and looking pleadingly at Dave, as if he expected that to change his mind.
Please?... I'm nice, I promise.

The dog is not going away. This upsets Dave. Makes him angry.

Everyone has a breaking point. Dave has been getting progressively closer and closer to his, lately, what with Fortuna and breaking up with Vi and Wick and now Darcy...

Do forgive him for losing his temper, all right?

He hit Darcy across the nose.

"Go away!"

The wolf flinched, giving a yelp. Ouch. That hurt.
His lip curled, but he quickly got himself in check before he could growl or bite. Another deep sigh escaped him, but instead of advancing, he retreated by a few steps. Maybe you'll believe me if I show you. Probably shouldn't show, you, but what the hell. Just this once.

Within a few moments, the wolf was no longer a wolf, but a tousle-haired young man sitting on the ground in a rather doglike way. He pushed the furry 'hood' of the wolfskin off his head and rubbed at his bleary eyes, then his nose.
"What'd you hit me for, eh?"

There was a pause of about three seconds as Dave took in this strange sight.

Then there was cursing, mostly incoherent and involving much sanctified excreta, for another thirty seconds, followed by Dave rubbing his face and shaking his head at himself.

"... 'd think I'd be used to fucked up shit happening by now..."

Pause.

"Hi."

"Hi to you too," Darcy said simply, still looking a tad hurt. He's used to this kind of thing, so he tends to forget, sometimes, just how shocking it can be to other people. He gave Dave a mock-accusing look, continuing plaintively, "I wasn't hurting you. You didn't 'ave to hit me, you know..."

"Just wanted you to go away," answered Dave, equally plaintively. "I hate dogs."

Even if he isn't technically a dog. He's still a canine. So there.

"Doesn't give you the right to hit me. That hurt. And anyway, I'm not a dog. And I was only trying to 'elp." Darcy grumbled sulkily, talking mostly to himself at this point, and drawing circles in the dirt with a finger.
Suddenly, he looked up, frowning. "You were sleeping. What were you doing sleeping out 'ere?"

"Didn't mean to sleep," responded Dave, immediately going into defensive mode and vaguely wanting to hit Darcy again and make him go away.

"'s none of your business, anyway."

Touchy lad, don't you think?

"Says you," Darcy replied, now smiling. He leaned forwards, resting his weight on his palms. He had that earnest, 'tell me what the problem is and I'll try to make it better' look (which is actually pretty difficult to muster as skillfully as he was doing). "So, you were out 'ere sleeping - whether you meant to or not -... and you were dreaming something. And you were scared. Why?"

"Fucking faery. Hates me. Did the fucking nightmare thing. Again."

Dave sounds annoyed. I really can't imagine why, can you?

"I hate him."

Though if Darcy can figure out exactly what happened from that, I shall be very impressed with the dear boy.

Darcy tilted his head to one side, frowning.
"Euh... une fée? 'Nightmare thing'? I,..." He looked suddenly apologetic and very, very confused. "Explain, please?"

Dave groaned.

"So there's this stupid little faery who hates me because we seriously pissed each other off the first time we met and he does this thing that makes you have your worst nightmares and he's done it to me twice now and I guess I've got no tolerance for it, 'cause it makes me have nightmares for weeks instead of for like five minutes and I'm going to squash him whenever I get the chance."

Yes, that was all one breath.

Blink.
"Oh."
Darcy grimaced. "He sounds like a tricky little bastard, that one,... Poor you. Did you try to make him go away with a charm? Those work...sometimes. If 'e's gotten away with it so far, you might find it difficult to s- what word did you use? 'Squash'?"

"Squash. Smash. Pound into tiny little fragments. Whatever."

He cocked his head.

"Charm? What charm? I don't know any charms."

For the sake of being a tease, Darcy would have argued and said that Dave had plenty of charms,...
but he really didn't want to get hit again, so he didn't.

"Well, there's,... iron," he said. "That's supposed to keep them away. And oatmeal. And there's a kind of tree, I think elm- no, rowan. Oh, and circles. There is a spell to trap them in a circle, except... I do not know it."

"I trapped him in a jar once. The result was not pretty." He winces at the memory of the thorough mess that Wick made of his apartment and shakes his head. "No trapping him in a circle for me."

A glance at the theatre. "An' I'm not going to put a bunch of stuff out to keep him away, either. Last time I tried something like that, I... Never mind."

Dave just doesn't have good luck with supernatural beings, does he.

"A jar? Pff, no wonder it'd be angry." Yes, he does occasionally refer to small creatures as 'it'. "So, if you're not going to try to ward 'im off, or trap 'im - then you just deal with whatever gets thrown at you. Or else kill it, one or the other."

He sat back, tugging the heavy wolf skin closely around him - it was a chilly evening after all.
"So," he smirked. "What'd you do to make 'im so angry? I didn't think they actually kept going after the same person. I thought they were,..impartially nasty?"

"All I've ever done to the thing is retaliate. And then it retaliates. And then I retaliate. And then it does. And god my life is so fucked up at this point, I don't even know if it's worth trying to avoid shit anymore."

Well, he hasn't seen Asher in a while. That's a plus, isn't it?

"Qu-- er. What's the matter? There is something other than being haunted by the little devil, isn't there."
(It's not hard to tell that there's something more, really it isn't.)
Darcy creeps a bit closer, head tilted to the side like the curious pup he is.

Dave almost shrugs and pretends he didn't hear Darcy. But... well, Darcy transformed from a wolf in front of Dave's very eyes. He understands that there are things other than... normal, right?

"Goddesses, vampires, and werewolves, and I don't mean you."

He shivers. Doesn't like thinking about Justin. Or Asher. Or Fortuna, for that matter, but she makes him more angry than sick and frightened.

"Sounds like you've been busy," Darcy remarked, after a moment's blank stare. "Two of those, I've only 'eard about,... and definitely want to keep it that way. What 'ave you been doing with yourself, going around looking for them, maybe?"
Blink.
"What 'appened?"

"Never mind. None of your fucking business. Go away."

I'm sorry. Dave is a bit sulky. Do forgive him, Darcy.

This time, he doesn't even cringe, as he did when Dave hit him.
"You really want me to go away?" he inquired - not plaintively. His tone was more masked sadness than anything else. "Bien. Fine."
Darcy pulled the hood back over his head and let it slip over his face, then began tugging the rest of it to fit before he attempted to change.

Dave mutters something that is probably profane, but I'm getting tired of his dirty mouth, so I shan't spell it out.

"Wait."

He does not want to be alone, and he still doesn't feel up to going home, just yet. The topic of conversation isn't helping much.

"Mm?" Darcy's voice comes out muffled from behind the hood. He looked like nothing so much as a big heap of dun fur with hands and sneakered feet - not nearly wolfish. Luckily he hadn't started to transform yet. "What?"

"Sorry. Dun want you to go away. Just don't wanna talk about... shit."

Because it's not pleasant thinking, and probably wouldn't make pleasant hearing. He shivers and huddles against the wall.

"Ah. Euh,..okay..." Darcy flips up the hood and settles himself against the wall, right beside Dave. "I'll stay, I guess,..."
He stares curiously at Dave for a moment, then shrugs off the wolf skin. "You're cold," he says, offering the heavy bundle of fur, mistaking the fear-shivers for cold-shivers.

Dave starts, then relaxes a little.

"What is this thing, anyway?" he asks as he pulls it over himself, rather like a blanket. It's warm and heavy, though, which is quite nice.

"A very old skin of a wolf," Darcy replies matter-of-factly, smirking. "It's enchanted, sort of. You are warmer now?"

"Yeah, guess so."

He shivers, putting paid to that assertion, and shrugs.

"Enchanted how?"

He dislikes magic. As a general rule.

"Just to, well, make you turn into a wolf," he said simply, with a weak grin. He wrapped his arms around himself and hunched his shoulders a little - Darcy's not impervious to cold, but does a reasonably good job of hiding it when he is. "But it would not work on you,... it's supposed to only work for someone from my family."

"... ah."

He blinked and fiddled with the wolfskin. The idea of himself as a wolf is quite a disconcerting one. Would he be terrified of himself...?

"Weird."

"Most people think that," Darcy agreed, shrugging. "They also think werewolves all change at the full moon and hunt people,.. okay, well, that is not always the truth. I do not hunt people. But I am not a real werewolf either, so I guess it doesn't count."