Not his story to tell. Truer words could not have been said. His story was long over. There had been a time where it was him as the main character of his own tale, his own grand adventure (if it so could be tamely called) but that was a long time ago. The part he played now was minor, only accompanying the plot to move it along.
He was the grease that got the wheel moving. And for now, he was fine with that.
The human's declaration of love for her beast of a man was surprising but only a little. It had been clear to him before how she felt about the boy. When he had previously asked about her relationship with him, she had stammered and insisted they were only good friends. Her insistence proved to him that she obviously thought more of Royce than she was letting on. And now, her steadfast loyalty for him in spite of the little information that she was being given by both of them, it was all Crowne needed to know to see that there was trouble coming down the road.
She loved him. The human loved the beast. She claimed that wouldn't change. That it couldn't change. Oh, but dear, how quickly that could change.
For Royce's sake, Crowne genuinely hoped that things stayed the way there now. He hadn't seen hide or tail of the boy or of the girl but he had a feeling that they were being taken care of. Maybe not very well but enough. If Royce had dared the risk to start a relationship with this human, certainly things were looking up for him. Crowne wondered how Rosemary was faring with this new turn of events.
"I am in your debt then," he concluded as she finally gave in and took the card from him. She was quick to dismiss him, something else he wasn't used to, but he didn't push his luck by saying anything further. No, he wouldn't say goodbye. There was nothing good-natured about her attitude toward him. Perhaps in the future he could change that. Not that he really cared. She was just another human. Nothing to him. Not to mention that she belonged to a werewolf. Well, belonged as much as she could. He wasn't looking to be apart of some juvenile love triangle.
He watched her disappear into the clinic shed. Even stayed so long to listen to the scratchings of her pen and the soft squeak of her chair. Why he stood there, even after the conversation had long ended, he couldn't say. There was nothing more for him to say or do. What was it he was waiting for? Perhaps it was the way the conversation had ended, very unlike their last encounter. Whatever the reason, he had to push it to the back of his mind. The night was long ahead and there were things that could be done. He turned and left, dissolving back into the dark he had become so accustomed.