Julian followed. He thought about introducing himself, but it seemed a bit late now. Oh well, his license was in his wallet if anyone needed to identify things later.
Despite being inexperienced at hunting monsters (at least from this end of the spectrum), Julian moved well, quietly and quickly. He'd always been graceful, but when the wolf was so close to the surface, it seemed far more fluid and preternatural.
He smelled the Wolfman before the older guy put up his hand. Jules felt his hackles rise, his nostrils flare. His fingers flexed, wanting to lengthen into claws. He stilled at the sight.
"So," he said, his voice more casual than frightened. "What about that? I'm fresh out of silver bullets."
There was no racial tension, no pang of empathy. This was the Wolfman, not a garou, not a shifter. This was a monster. A hybrid thing that the Fianna would have seen as an abhorrence. It was not in tune with the world; it perverted it. The very sight of the creature made Julian feel almost angry that such a being could exist.