It occurred to him that he hadn't actually given this part of the plan much thought when he heard the werewolf beckon him from the other side of the door, but by then it was too late to reconsider and he found himself drawn inside out of habit than any real intent. He closed the door behind him with clipped grace, clutching his notebook to his chest with his free hand. Livid blue band-aids with little cartoon dogs decorated the webbing of his index and ring fingers. It hadn't been his most dignified moment, to be sure, but they made him feel better nonetheless.
“I was told to come to you for projects like this.” Alcuin explained, reasoning that he was likely the very last person the werewolf would like to have seen that day after what had come to pass between them the last time. “I believe I have come up with a reasonable alternative to my first offer; however, it is significantly less lucrative.” He moved forward to deposit the notebook on his desk and then stepped back a respectful distance, opting to quietly observe the grain of the wood used in the making of the desk instead of the scrutinizing gaze of the werewolf across from him.