Saturday, 1-7-2012 @ 8:35pm Characters: Watch, Sasha, Alex. Location: Azteca. Subject: Welcome to Las Vegas, good lookin'. Rating: PG-13. Tagged?: Yes.
The Castiles. They were some of the best-looking people Sasha was ever going to meet. And three of the deadliest. To Watch Wilcox, the Castiles mights as well have been coated in some poisonous South American tree frog mucus and each armed with sets of fangs (and they were, more or less). He wasn't as certain about the poison, but it was a definite possibility. With one hand, they held an iron fist around the bright lights of Las Vegas, sometimes dimming the glimmer for their fellow lycans. On the other, the Castiles ensured peace and less raging, lycanthropy-caused murder. On a personal level, the brothers were okay dudes. Henry was usually good to bum a smoke from, and Alex knew about some pretty cool shit. But the queen mother was a lady Watch avoided - and easily. She had no dealings in the distribution of Dr. Castile's catnip. So there was no need to rile the beast with their 'dog smell'.
As they rode the elevator of the hotel Azteca straight to the top, Mr. Wilcox was just as at ease as he usually was on his way to see Alex Castile (which was as relaxed as he was doing the dishes or taking a piss), but he was in a far better mood since his travel mate was an obscenely good-looking Russian werewolf. The full moon was two days off, yet, but he wanted to get his new roommate acclimated with the unofficial sheriffs in town. "I'm glad you didn't swipe any of my body spray. They hate 'cheap' worse than 'dog'." Watch teased as he leaned in the corner of the lift, opting not to let his butt touch the posh seat. The darker man eyed his fellow wolf in the new setting and a smile emerged on his lips, then his eyes. Sasha Konstantin was an enigma to Watch. Not only had the man immediately earned a spot on Aces High's artist team, but he'd been cured of his homelessness by agreeing to bunk above the shop with Watch. And they'd spent the last half week humpin' like dogs on the euthanize list at the pound. Almost literally. At any rate, there wasn't a lot of wonder in why Watch was smiling, just that everything had happened so smoothly. Obviously, hell was about to let loose.
Ding dong. "Don't let that fool you. The witch ain't dead." And she probably had a black cat in her lap. He sniffed once and corrected his posture as the doors opened, fully prepared to get a blast of jaguar odor in the face. Wait, wait... wait... there it was. But the whole casino had a vague cattish stank. Watch's hand slid from his pocket and he touched the back of the (slightly) taller man's head. "We gotta come back in two days, so don't tick 'im off." He smirked gently and nodded for Sasha to go first, which was the way Watch preferred them to travel (mmm!; that ass!). "To the left," the half-Haitian muttered, and did a Michael Jackson-style slide in said direction before repeating himself with more gusto, "To the left..." A few steps later, he'd corrected his gait and was walking beside Mr. Konstantin. A fluffy black cat scurried between them from out of nowhere and Watchemonne nodded solemnly to Sasha. They weren't in canine territory no mo'.