Some people tussled with the idea of the afterlife. Heaven. Hell. But Marcelo, though as a child he had gone to church every sunday, just as everyone in his village did so, he had not given it much of a thought. He was immortal after all, so doomed to rove this earth forever and therefore what happened after the bright light and death taking your hand in his own, it would forever remain a mystery to the mischievous jackal with the lazy grin and shining chocolate hued eyes. His father had been deeply embedded in his faith and Marcelo remembered when he had come to his father with his ailment of the full moon, he remembers those chocolate eyes had shined with hope, while Marcelo's had only shown defeat. "Just pray my son, just pray and you will see," he had said to his son that reflected his own earthen eyes. That was when his mother had sat down with him and peered into her son's earthen eyes and she saw the hurt, the confusion, and his mothered, not being as religious as his father, asked what they could do.

And so the dark colored eyed boy told her what his father had said, and she told her son, her own blue eyes staring into his dark gaze. "This is a curse my son," she said, reaching out to touch the boy's bronzed hair. "And I fear it will not leave you any time soon," and that is when she grasped the hands of her bronzed haired son and brought her face close to his own, his mother's own tawny hair tickling his face in the gentlest of fashions. "But we will face it together," she had said and together they had, until it came time for Marcelo to part from his family for a brief amount of time, to hide his immortality from the prying eyes of neighbors. But, Marcelo's mother would forever remain in the dark eyed were's heart as the reason he was able to get through those first unbearable changes. It was not prayer, or positive thinking, it was the love and support of his family.

Dark colored eyes continue to rove around the coffee shop as he casually sips his black tea. The jackal was content to say the least, his nausea beginning to leave him and his headache nearly entirely gone. A roughish smirk then comes to his face as he seems to feel his old self returning. That smirk now a permanent resident upon his face. Well, I suppose it is safe to say that Marcelo was feeling better. Chocolate eyes watch as people enter into the coffee, watching them living out their short, mortal lives. First those brown eyes spot a man in a suit, talking on his phone, texting on another as he shouts his order towards the barista. Marcelo will never understand these types of mortals frankly. They had such short lives to begin with and here they were wasting it. Next those chocolate eyes spot a pretty number walk in. Now, this has certainly peeked his interest. The jackal sits up a little straighter as he watches her, taking a sip of his tea. Dark eyes notice the low cut of her sweater and how it hugs tightly against her body, but then he hears probably the worst thing he could at the moment. "Mommy!" Some kids cries out and dark gaze finds the runt as he latches himself onto the woman's hip. Yep, that was a hard pass for Marcelo. I won't lie, if Marcelo were anyone else on Earth, even the tiniest percentage less of himself than he is, he would adore the scene thet plays out before him as the woman hugs her son. But, sadly, Marcelo is more of himself than most people know how to handle. He could be hugging a kitten and no one would find Marcelo adorable. It is simply that something seems too... off about his foxlike grin and the shady half-insults hidden between, under and in place of every kind word he's ever said for him to be adorable. He is too wicked, too ambitious, and too cunning. But that red face holds a certain mysterious charm to it. He may be disillusioned, he may be imagining his attractiveness, but in his world he is, quite frankly, the shiz. And, today, he's evidently a little cheeky...playful almost. He watches the kid and mother interact with about as much understanding as a man who stares at a baby rat for the first time, or those high school students in health class. He wants to smile sweetly at the scene and give a small chuckle, break that composure that is so Marcelo, but he doesnt. He takes all that happiness and curiosity and stuffs it into a bag marked, for lack of a better word, GARBAGE.

He swirls the remainder of the tea in his glass and contemplates getting another one for the road but then a man enters into the coffee, clearly in as much of a rush as the first man Marcelo had spotted had been. A wolfish grin comes to his features. This ought to be good. He keeps grinningâ€"foxlikeâ€" as the scene plays out before him. And he certainly cannot keep the smirk from crossing his lips as the coffee spills all over him. He wasn't sure how the hell that just happened, but he could not care less. That was hysterical. Those brown eyes flash a amber color for only a moment, the cry of pain rising the predator within him before returning to that harmless chocolate hue. A wry grin comes to his face as he laughs out towards the man that had spilled the coffee. When he spots the there barista going to clean up the mess he flashes that roguish smile in her direction. Dark mocha eyes finding hers as she speaks. "I'd say," he says with a smirk. Suddenly that grin grows a little wider as that all too familiar scent of were floats into those nostrils, accompanied by something a little stranger, something he hadn't seen before, at least as a were. Equine. Dark eyes look for her own before he decides to say his next words. "Humans are not the most patient of creatures, eh?"