"So werewolves." Jeremiah suggested, somewhere between disbelieving and resigned. There had been the vampire conversation before Halloween, then Halloween, and talk of ghosts. Things he'd been perfectly happy to assume were excellent narrative devices were being brought into every day conversation, seemingly without any particular irony attached to them. It occurred to him that there was a certain amount of irony that the woman he'd loved would have been particularly enchanted by this town's peculiarity and yet he was here alone.
Well, not alone, because he was here with Eames, the not-Carnie, who dressed particularly fine and walked swiftly, although Jeremiah didn't particularly have a difficult time keeping up.
Werewolves were somewhat less interesting than the fact that FEMA had descended upon noise. It seemed like Stranger Things and not real life, particularly.
"How long ago?" He asked instead of doubting any of this information. If it was true, then he knew more than he did, and if it was false, perhaps he could work it into the screenplay he was decidedly struggling to write. "I assume the wolves came after FEMA? Or were they there before?"