[Center][h2]Lupin Chevrolet[/h2][/center]
[b]Time:[/b] Past Dusk
[b]Location:[/b] Outside the Pit.
[b]Interaction with:[/b][@Alivefalling][@Ithradine][@princess]
[hr]

Step by step, the polished shoes clacked against the dirt on the ground, yet he moved with enough poise to not get a smear on his expensive gray three-piece suit. It had been a custom-tailored gift from once upon a time, yet the magic of clothes preservants had frozen their age in time. The old man had decided to dust off, close the shop and look sharp this time. Completing the looks, a matching fedora hat, a brown longcoat and a exquisitely embroided cane completed the looks.

How it all started? With remembrance. There was a time he was a young man. Not a werewolf. A man. Full of ideals. With crazy ideas and friends. One of such was Jean Pierre. Same town. Same age. Same unit when they enlisted. They tended to make jokes about the whole situation. 

[i]Can't wait to get outside of this muddy trench and get ourselves some fine french love ladies to hug instead of mud. Or even better, a full burlesque show. Probably for my birthday. So we will have something warm and soft to clench, instead of cold rotten dirt! You will see, Lupin! I bet you howl![/i]

However, Jean Pierre was no more. The last time he had seen it, half of his skull had been missing, blown clean by a piece of shrapnel. Sleeping forever in the forest, in an unmarked grave. That had been his fate. Ever since roman times, libations had been made towards the deceased. But Jean Pierre did never hold his liquour. Lupin had instead chosen the next best thing. He had saved for months to book a private burlesque show. Or what they called here, private stripper dance. Jean Pierre would have been proud, for tonight it would have been his birthday.

Except that Lupin, used to the woods and the relatively quiet pace of being one with nature and trying to quell the ghosts of his past, had no actual clue on how one of those looked like. The Pit seemed the obvious choice, but it was quite a sight. All blaring and lights and what not. If he had been shellshocked still, he'd run away for the hills, thinking it was the Kaiser's army once again. Yet for all his discipline, he could not miss the creeping sensation around him.

Supernaturals. Bloodsuckers. The uneasiness of an ongoing scuffle. Ember Grove's outcasts had come to dance. Emotions probably were running high as more people came drawn to it. Big clashes would come. Like that new wolf pack. Lupin made a mental note to ask Sorrel about it. She probably knew something. 

"Goodness gracious... I don't think this is the strip club." He muttered to himself and no one in particular, seizing his fedora hat. "...and where have gone the manners of people these days? Brawls this early... what a disappointment." Lupin added, scanning the area. Maybe, perhaps maybe, he'd find a club where one could get a "stripper dance". He just needed to search for clues.

But with the three bloodsuckers around and the strange redhead it could prove difficult.