"Four years," he said, holding up four fingers. "Since I was eighteen."
He downed the rest of his pint and set his mug down. "Come on, Minerva. You know you want to see it. You don't believe me. Im' going to have to prove it."
Atlas was proud of being a werewolf. Of course he didn't want the authorities to know what all he'd done in and out of wolf form, but that didn't mean he was ashamed of what he was.
"So," he said, then, motioning for another pint. "Your mum's place, you said? How interesting."