we built this city on broken glass

What a curious fellow that little Jackal was. He was intelligent, maybe too intelligent for his own good and yet thieves usually were. At least if they were any good. Poor thieves so rarely tended to survive very long. The young man was eager, if nothing else, Frost almost curious as to whether or not the fellow would actually manage to prove himself useful. After all, there was little place within his pack for anyone useless or without discernible talent. There were, in Frost's opinion, far too many useless beings in the world. They wasted time. They wasted space. They wasted money. Yet- by the grace of whatever god existed they continued to persist if only because those beings more useful than them took pity on them allowed them to do as such. The towering war horse was hardly such a being as that. Marcelo was quick to disappear. Some talent for teleportation it seemed. A handy talent to have and yet Frost offered little comment upon it as he started at the empty space that had once contained the other man. The very fact the fellow was at least willing to attempt to prove himself was a point in his favour and yet, if he failed, chances were he would wind up dead and by that notion alone fate itself would have proven his ineptitude. Frost so hardly the sort of being given to care what happened to those not yet worth his caring about. His pack alone perhaps the only beings he had deemed suitably worth his time- outside of Alexander.

A soft breath of air left the stallions nose before those heavy hooves carried him towards a nearby strand of trees to wait. It was only once he had reached that very destination that the stallion allowed thatshift to come over him once more. Frost at last returned to his far shorter, more slender human form. That stark white man his equine figure possessed having shifted near equally white hair that so eternally seemed to fall within the mans strange, violet hued eyes. Frost reached for those clothes he had left behind at the start of the evening, his jeans slipped back on, that plain black shirt pulled into place and that ever present amulet tugged from beneath the cotton fabric to rest upon the outside. His figure lent easily back agianst the tree then, his phone fished from his pocket before his fingers tapped smoothly at the screen. Frost glanced at that small clock on the screen several times, the man curious as to just how long it might take the boy to complete that task. If he managed to complete it at all. An hour. He would give the Jackal an hour. If he had failed by then he was likely dead and so hardly worth waiting for. Frost's own attention shifted back to his phone screen. There was much to be done and so little time. Perhaps, later in the week he might even consider visiting that Ark of Tetradore's. How hard could it be to win a few fights and a few extra dollars. Those doubles tournaments paid better then the singles. Perhaps if this Marcelo proved skilled enough the other man might be a capable partner for that very thing. It was about time his pack had another man. Frost so hardly minded being surrounded by women and yet he could hardly deny another mans opinion, on occasion, might be warranted.

The sudden reappearance of Marcelo was nothing shirt of surprising. Frost having anticipated the boy to reappear where he had left him by those water troughs. The snowy-haired man, briefly, allowing that look of surprise to reflect upon his features before his expression returned to that near infamous look of apathy. Frost a distinctly difficult man to read in every sense. That emotionless facade readily presented to his companion then as Frost's gaze roved over his mostly naked figure. Marcelo apparently having lost most of his clothes in completing his task. Frost allowed one eye to lift. His features betraying some hint of curiosity and indeed perhaps a faint touch of amusement.

"Did you trade the Hunter your clothes for the book?"

It was, he suspected, far more to do with the boys shifting that any trade deal and yet it was almost amusing that the fellow felt confident enough in his own skin to forgo seeking any real clothing before appearing before him. Hmm. Perhaps he had a little more spine then Frost had given him credit for. The scent of blood so suddenly seemed to permeate the air then. Frost allowed his gaze to travel upward and over the mans fit physique to the wound that marked the side of his head and face. The scent of singed hair intermingling with the night air. The ever impatient Azrael had clearly found his mark at least once and yet the grinning man before him remained almost unphased. Hmm. Frost's own hand extended then, the man silently requesting that book. The equine waited only so long as it took Marcelo to offer it before taking it from him and turning those pages over in an effort to assure it was the correct novel. The book was abruptly snapped shut near a moment later. The sound ricocheting through the darkness before Frost's gaze met the boys own, those smooth, cool words parting his lips then.

"I will admit you surprised me. A part of me anticipated you'd get yourself killed. Azrael has a notoriously short temper. I can see you met him."

That faint hint of amusement lingered bu briefly upon his features before seeming to fade entirely. Frost's features near emotionless once more as that silence persisted for several seconds.

"You did what I asked. You seem to have at least some talent. If your seeking a place in my pack then your welcome to it. That comes with a place in our house if you need somewhere to live. But, Marcelo..."

Frost's own hand extended then, the stallion willing to seal that agreement with a handshake so provided Marcelo desired to take it up in turn. That choice very much the other man's own. A faint hint of amusement prompted that lift of his own lip if only slightly then. If Marcelo took up that offer there would be another man within his pack that had, so far, consisted of women alone. Frost assured he had but some idea of just what sort of man Marcelo might be when it came to women. The very kind inclined to ...enjoy them.

"Do not annoy my girls. If they complain to me about you, I will kick your ass. Are we understood?"

FrosT