Lucas stopped when the woman stopped, watching with interest as she approached the warehouse and then, perhaps predictably, disappeared inside. It made him sigh. Lucas could have guessed right then and there what kind of situation this was and briefly wondered if it was worth pursuing. He'd been apart of enough dangerous groups to know that lone pretty women like her, in a place like this, were either about to get into a whole lot of trouble or be trouble itself.
The latter was rarer. To her credit (sorta) a pretty face helped but certainly didn't work on everyone. Ask him how he knows -- or don't. He had such few stories with happy endings, anyways.
But the static in the air from a magick he couldn't explain tingled his mouth and made his fur bristle and rise, and at the end of the day the energy he sought had been coming from her. Lucas wasn't about to let that go. Greedy, stubborn, possessive of the possibilities -- a mix of all three? It didn't matter. He was unapologetic for all of them. Callous padded paws brought the Were to the heavy metal door, large muzzle easily slipping through the crack that'd been left ajar whether on purpose or otherwise. It was enough to get his broad cranium nearly all the way in, save his ears which pressed back against his skull.
Now he watched.
Two men lingered near the back and Lucas could see they were carrying. The girl was up ahead, the boss man further at his desk flanked by at least one more lackey in charge of... duffle-money. Ah. It was an exchange. There was a deep, deep exasperation that resonated within the canine, a bubbling flash of far too many exorbitant situations where he'd played part in scenes just like this again and again and again. Not as the boss. Not as the lackey. Not as the muscle.
Lucas had been the insurance.
His upper lip twitched to expose one large fang, eyes locking briefly on the blue vial before it shifted out of sight in exchange for a gun.
"Good, drink it."
A scream echoed from the back and a loud crackling thud followed after. The door was near half-way opened now, the silhouette of a large sort-of-wolf-look-a-like towering over the back of one of his men. The dog's teeth had sunken firmly into the man's shoulder with a rippling snarl, mouth oozing with excessive and pooling saliva. The bite would hinder use of his shooting arm but the saliva would ensure it stayed that way, its paralyzing properties surely already working its way through the bloodstream. Unfortunately it would take a lot longer to do the same to his mouth.
"GET IT OFF ME!" he shrieked, pinned beneath the beast and desperate to be rid of the pain shooting through his body of which some part was certainly broken. The cry only earned him a tighter bite with an audible crunch and Lucas paid him little mind. The second man faltered in surprise but only for a moment, quickly arming himself with a gun and pointing it at Lucas. Even with blood and flesh seeping between his teeth his dark gaze remained locked straight ahead. Not on the second look out, not on the boss, not on any vial or gun -- but at the girl.
The millisecond pause in the violence that was about to ensue had him canting his head to the side ever so slightly, a second's grace period in the pulse of a single moment. Everyone knew the look of a dog waiting for a command be it out of training, habit, or love. They didn't know each other. There was no obligation, no tie, no reason beyond morbid curiosity and personal gluttonous desires. And yet...
He was offering to her what so few people received as far as Lucas was ever concerned: a choice. One. Last. Chance. To decide the dynamic she wanted for this situation. These people... were they friends? Foe? Expendable? Not? He wouldn't wait forever.
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
Lucas