as written by Script
Snow grimaced, knowing what Marc's intent was, but said nothing. It would have to happen sooner or later - Marc and his lot wouldn't be satisfied till it did. It was better that it was in a relatively controlled environment than anywhere else. He sipped silently at his drink.
He'd watched Cass enter, her silent display of anger at Marc. But she couldn't prevent it either. He wondered who'd be the one to try her, when it came to it. Julienne, perhaps. The former 'pack leader' wouldn't escape the same treatment as Hubert, though it seemed like her apparent competence had left her less of a target.
____
Seri had been watching The Den for several days now, from a rooftop across the street. He'd watched the people coming and going, learned faces and the way they moved. He knew he'd have to go in eventually. Or if not there, that he'd have to confront the rest of the Bloodstones in some fashion eventually. That was, if he ever wanted to be able to call himself 'one of them'.
He wasn't sure he did. But he knew he'd rather call himself that, than a street rat. He doubted Hubert would put up with him squatting in his flat for much longer if he wasn't part of their new pack. He grimaced. Convincing a rag-tag bunch of castaway werewolves that a werecat was worth their time had been hard enough. He doubted that a few flashy displays with his claws would do the job this time.
No, much as he hated the idea, he'd have to keep his head down. Survival. That was what this was about. Survival, and necessity.
He dropped into the street and walked towards the door of the bar. It waited stoically for him to push it open. It was now or never. If he turned back now he could find an alternative. He could probably eke out a life as a pampered stray in a rich part of town. No. That was even less dignified than playing meek for a pack of dogs.
Seri grit his teeth and pushed open the door. Inside, he spared a briefly sympathetic glance for Hubert, before quickly crossing the room to find a seat somewhere out of the way. Even if Cass and Hubert were there, he wanted nothing to do with the brute they were interacting with.
____
Seri's arrival drew Snow's eye up from his drink a third time. The distinct scent of the werecat followed him to the corner that he chose to retreat to. He wondered if anyone in the pack would think it worth their time to give him the same treatment as Hubert. A part of him doubted it. He knew that some of them wouldn't even acknowledge the boy as pack, Baron's word on it be damned.
Himself... he wasn't sure. The boy wasn't pack material, as far as he was concerned. But he'd roughed it with the Runts long enough that Snow was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt long enough that he had a chance to surprise him.
