Tom could feel the sorrow in Peter when he talked about his friend who'd been here and gone. His own, about missing his friends back home, was the same brand. "My best friend back home is a vampire. He's got high everything standards," he confided in the same low tone, a whisper.
Tom had never really considered that about police but he hadn't spent too much time all the way in human society back home. He'd always been at the edges. "Yeah, werewolves," Tom agreed about being Peter's kind. Kindred.
"Oh, alright," Tom agreed. "A curse. Sounds horrible," he said, and he didn't quite notice the way he reached back and scratched the back of his head too, mirroring Peter. His fingers touched over his scar for a moment, scratched over buzzed short hair. "Much rather be a wolf, me."