Sore heads and Bad smells.

Amidst a pile of rotting garbage and, repugnant clothes a thought occured to itself 'A new smell. A Garou. Not one I've sensed before'.

Footsteps, as the source makes its way down the stairs, and proceeds to sit upon the bench. 

'He must know I am here, why else would someone come down here. I made it perfectly for some modicum of peace. Oh well!'

At the sound of the lighter and the voice that accompanied it. Col peeked his head out of the pile, and looked around the sleeping beggar, a man he knows as Burt, to view the new arrival.

Slowly, Col rose to his feet, and found his cane amid the rubbish. Looking down at his clothes, a symphony of ancient denim, 80's t shirts and patchwork trousers, no shoes. All covered liberally in stains, filth and ......gods only know what. 

Col proceeded to slowly, with the help of his cane, manoeuvre himself in front of the arrival. 

He sniffed once, processing the information he gathered from the Garous scent.
Sniffed a second time for effect.
Then a long drawn out sniff for the sake of it. 

A near toothless grin appeared out from behind a dark grey beard. Above two old eyes, his brows raised to meet a rapidly balding head as a hourse, whistling, phlegm ridden voice cascaded from his lips.

"You smell like you need a hair of the Dog!"

Col proceeds to chortle and snigger at his own joke.

Upon hearing of more Garous in the area Cols eyes light up. "A ssecond aye?" A whistle develops from his mouth as he hovers over the 's' longer than necessary. He continues "I've met a few in my time here, you, however are the first in a very long time" he says the stench of putridity hanging on each kf his words.

Col bows and takes the smoke. Places it inside a gap between his teeth. "Any chance of a light?" He says, his eyes twinkling.

"Pleasure to meet you Caleb, people call me Col, minds not what it used to be so thats all I remember." He says placing a filthy hand, pock marked and hairy into Calebs. "So what sir, brings you to my neck of the woods?"

Col takes a long drag on the smoke. Relishing the taste. Before reaching out again to the new arrival, in anticipation of something to drink, other than stale water. As the liquid pours down his throat Col finds himself going down memory lane, brought on by the flavours of the flasks contents.

Upon hearing Calebs tales Cols eyes widen and the cigarette droops a bit in his mouth. "Vampires?? Do they have any idea of your nature?" He says whistling.bits of spittle past the smoke as he talks. He looks down and walks a bit listening to Caleb. "Is the fae in trouble then? As you say you're looking out for him" you see genuine concern on his face.

Hearing of the windigo brings a surprisingly delightful smile to his face "How did the hunt go with the Windigo? Are they still around?"

Upon hearing of the fate of the drummer Col bursts out into raucous laughter dropping his cigarette to the floor as he does so. Wiping a tear from his eye, and bending down to pick up the still smouldering smoke "And thet still let you play with them? Ive always found their kind a pain in my side. Thinking they're above everyone with their blood transfixation. Bloody pests in my opinion." The last part of his speech turns to ramblings and mumblings.

"Teagan aye?" He says listening intently. "Oh ofcourse ofcourse. Hey if you need an extra pair of hands to help, consider this old Garou wontya?" He says with a wink, breathing his stale breath as he does so.
"I havent hunted in a long time." He says his eyes looking wistfully up the stairs. "Helping the unfortunate has been my bag for a while now" and he leans heavily onto his cane. "Tho I do occasionally go into the pure canine form, just for kicks. Makes scaring people more interesting" he says laughing once more.


At the joke Col laughs heartily. "They certainly tried" he says with a wink. "Ive been about for a lifetime kid" he says sitting beside Caleb. "My memory is fading with each day tho, so stories are forgotten." He drags on his cigarette once more before continuing "It would be nice to write some new ones." He says showing a wolf like smile from behind his beard.

Thinking back on previous hunts, long ago. Adapting to the shadows whilst running streets of New York and Morocco. The scent. The chase. The fun. It had been a while, how long? Decades must be?.

"Not hunted in a very long time." His voice doing little to mask his age or his Moroccan heritage." Not had anyone to hunt with in over a decade thinking about it."

Col laughs about being in the history books, more spittle and phlegm spewing from his mouth. The ever present odour is yet to cease, and even the cigarette smoke does little to cover it. "Yeah they will hear of us in folklore, and speak of us through the Umber for years to come!" And he laughs heartily. Calebs slap on Cols back triggers a series of harsh coughs before they turn into more laughter briefly finishing on a small howl.

Col turns to Caleb. "Maybe hunting again will bring my memories back to me? " he says with a toothy grin and a feral look in his eye.

Reaching into a decrepit fold in the moldy, fetid clothing Col is wearing. He brings out a heavily stained bottle, unlabelled with a makeshift cork in the top. "Here" he says offering it to Caleb." A cure for your current.....issue." he says hinting at Calebs hangover.

Col laughed a low gutteral laugh when Caleb asked about the contents of the hangover liquor. To be truthful to himself he didnt really remember. And the ingredients he did remember he didnt know what they where as the labels had been eroded off by time and the cities ecosystem. "To be truthful."his Moroccan accent evident."I cant remember."and he continues with his gutteral laugh.

His mind remembering a few hunts in the city and the deserts of morocco and the few he has had here he turns to Caleb, taps Calebs leg with his cane and says. "I fancy a city hunt if thats ok with you? Its been a while since I saw the city beyond a fallen human down on their luck."

Col burst into an almost hideous laughter. "Yes!" He exclaims. " a Leech hunt sounds needed! A leeching as it where!" And he laughs at his own joke.

He feels his feral blood begin to get agitated at the thought. A feeling he hadnt felt in a while. As he does so the hairs on his hand begin to elongate as if exited at the prospect of a hunt.

"I believe a small conclave of them resides above a club..." he sniffs the air " ....8 blocks from here. Breakthru is the name of the club. " he says through gritted teeth and yet an air of excitement manages to escape through his teeth.

As before, as Caleb slaps the 'old timer' on his back, Col reacts with a raucous cough. Solitary and defined. Remnants of weeks of food and debris scatter from his mouth and collide with the floor infront of him. His cane too, slips from his grip and falls at his side. 
A short moment passes. Barely a second, before Col lifts himself from his bent over posture. 
Looks Caleb dead in the eye and smiles a devilish grin. "The alleyways and side roads are dead at this time of day. " he says age rampant throughout his voice. "And the paths and main thoroughfares are filled with those broken, hungover or performing their walk of shame." To which he raises one side of his mouth and chortles. 
The smell emanating from Col seems to intensify, a fetid and gangrenous concoction. As if excitement is portrayed through stench more than anything else. 

"We can sneak in and rip the Wyrms  apart before they know it, or we can stride into the place and own it like its ours..." he leans back against the bench, a possible window to his younger confident self shows through. "It is up to you Young Boy" he says with a wink.