RP: Patrick & Dale
Who: Dale Smith, Patrick Pucey Where: Werewolf clinic, Scotland When: January 1, 2025 Warnings: Summary: Dale remembers that something wasn't quite right last night.
Dale had known something was up as soon as he'd smelt strange wolves and, deciding that self-preservation was the best option, had stayed close to the clinic. He was able to smell Patrick inside and the other volunteers and although Dale was no Gryffindor and bravery certainly wasn't in his repertoire, he felt an urge to protect the people looking out for him. The scents of the strangers had gone away soon enough but Dale had been rattled enough to stay close to the entrance of the clinic, only leaving the door to trot around the building and make sure there was nobody there.
Changing in the morning, Dale - as usual - had been unable to do little more than walk to bed and take a potion before falling into a deep sleep. He knew Patrick was there intermittently and slept easily until he felt rejuvenated enough to get up and eat a hearty breakfast. Once he'd done that, he went to search for Patrick to talk to him about the strange wolves. He didn't know if the other man had noticed or not but the idea of strangers being in their midst, especially when there had been so many werewolf attacks recently, made him nervous.
"Did you know there were other wolves here last night?" he asked once he'd found him, sheer tiredness and soreness making him sit in Patrick's office chair; standing up was took too much energy. "They didn't smell like anybody who was here before the sun set. I thought you should know."