Tom nodded at that. It was true. He could smell them, too, the scent slowly starting to permeate the halls in the hotel. He wasn't trying to hunt any of them, but maybe hunting the Seattle ones would slow it down, how many of them were getting turned.
"Oh, I've never been to Mexico. Or Mexico adjacent," he told him brightly, perking up at the offer of post-hunt lager. "That'd be good," he told him. Drinks, friendship with another wolf. Almost felt like a pack, even if Peter said they didn't have those back where he was from.
Tom made sure to hold his hand up for salt too, grinning a bit at the suggestion, more trusting with a touch of naivete than mischievous. "Do vampires show up on film where you're from?" he asked him. "Only they don't in my world, and I got drunk and was fighting one in an alley. Somebody called the cops and they took me in, but the cops watched the CCTV and it just looked like I was drunk fighting the air so they had to let me go," he told Peter the story after he had his drink and passed the bottle back over, laughing a bit at the memory.