Julian raised his brows, and looked down at himself. His jeans were good quality, possibly expensive, but mostly comfortable. He was wearing a white button-down shirt, as he typically did. Julian never paid attention to price tags - he was interested in comfort and durability. Even the leather bike jacket he wore was of extremely good quality to the knowing eye.
He gave a shrug. "That's probably from Simon and Ulric," he said. "Good friends of mine, back in San Francisco. After my mother... they were the ones who mainly raised me to be myself."
He didn't want to talk about the 'family' back in California, not the blood relatives. The pack he might have, if they weren't such a secret part of himself. Even Ulric wasn't someone he often spoke of. Simon was safer.
It was always safer to speak of the dead.
"Haddyn? Don't think I know that area. I was only there once, though. Can't say I saw much of the place. Was it in the city?"