Veti had nodded her understanding of course, still smiling, still laughing though some small part of her thoughts squirmed with an unspoken worry, a fearful little worm of apprehension that she was only beginning to understand might never truly leave her. No, of course she couldn't fault Thad for wanting to take his time, to live in his own body, to love her in his own skin after death and after Max.
It was fear that twisted her up, even as she twisted that wide, crimson smile back into place, repainting her lips back to brilliance with the cosmetics at the vanity that supernaturally matched her very own. Dressed only in an ivory lace bra and matching garter and thigh-high stockings, pale grey leather boots laced to her knees, Veti stared at her reflection in the vanity mirror. Those hard, sapphire eyes never once cut the woman who stared back even the slightest amount of slack. She already knew the hell that life would be without him.
The werewolf knew she couldn't face that world again. She would give him whatever she possibly could, do anything in her power to keep him safe and at her side.
Even share the wolf he'd made of her first.
Still Veti brightened when Thad came behind her, wrapping his arms about her waist, reminding her just how hungry he really was, and thirsty too of course - oh, and a little something or so about saving the world again. Together.
"You look very handsome," she said to his reflection in the mirror, just over her shoulder. And he truly did in that grey suit, the blue dress shirt reflecting the blue in his eyes. And she really did love that last little touch, the wolf-shaped buttons on the suit jacket. Long fingers reached upwards, wrapping behind his neck tenderly, savoring the softness of that golden hair, the living warmth of the cheek that lay against hers for just a moment with a soft sigh of contentment.
But only for a moment, before Veti stood once more, crossing to the bed swiftly where her dress had been laid out. Dove grey silk sewn into a simple sheath dress, styled with a boat neck, the sleeves falling to a three quarter length, its skirt fell to her knees with an [almost] demure slit in the front to her thigh. Ivory lace lay over its entirety, falling gracefully into a near ethereal train to the floor behind her. As with everything found in these wardrobes, this dress fit like a dream, as if it had been tailored especially and alone for that wearer.
Because, of course, it had been.
Veti chuckled warmly as they left their room, one eyebrow raised curiously when she realized Thad had a tie over each shoulder. Well, let the man have his moment of indecision - she was of the opinion he looked very nice with the top of his dress shirt simply unbuttoned. But he deserved his entrance, her resurrected lover - let it be as magnificent as he wished.
The scent of the other wolf grew stronger the closer they came to the great room, and Veti could feel the tension building in her chest, her arm clutching Thad's closer still in anticipation. When they finally stepped back inside, the high heels of her grey boots clicking lightly on the herringbone wood floors, the lovers exchanged understanding glances. Yes, Thad really did need to have his food, but Veti's sudden uneasiness had lost her appetite. She watched him cross the room, toward the food - and then of course stopping before Siya, giving up any pretense to understanding the way of formal dress before their dear, precious friend.
Veti would not interrupt their moments, no matter how dearly she wished to grill Siya on all that had happened - though looking at the entwined fingers and the contented grins, it sure the hell wasn't hard to hazard a damn good guess.
Good for Siya. She deserved that happiness like no one Veti knew.
Still, the werewolf felt the undeniable pull of the wolf across the room, who had certainly not been in the great room when she and Thad had made their dramatic exit. She was ancient, this wolf. Veti could feel this to her very bones - though she would have to be, would she not, if she were a member of Hoyle's murdered clan?
Veti's gut twisted further still, wincing even behind the smile that shook nervously on her lips as she made herself cross the room toward the other wolf. Reginald Hoyle had been kind to her, spoken to her with a respect and a decency she had never experienced from any other werewolf she had ever met. But small, ugly doubts whispered in the back of her head, hissing ugly misgivings into her thoughts. Simply because Mr. Hoyle had been good to her, there was no reason she should expect the same from his surviving packmate.
The werewolf's eyes stole toward the fireplace, toward that familiar bubble gum pink head of hair, cradling a newly-stoated Artie and chatting up Henry, and looking to be having a damn good time of things at it. Feeling just a little silly about the whole... Thing... But not silly enough to stop herself, Veti tried to catch Daisy's gaze, nodding quickly toward where Nestor and Semyon sat, the venerable wolf before them with her back on the room.
Shameless. Veti knew damn well she was acting the shameless, helpless beggar at the moment, but with Thad catching up with Siya and Atticus at the moment, and the unspeakably irresistible pull of the elder wolf? Damn, but Veti shot the Reaper the biggest, most imploring puppy dog wide-eyed gaze she'd ever given, pleading silently for Daisy to come with her, pleeeeeeeeeeeease?
Compared to the definitely delicious sight of Henry Grimm, Veti was pretty sure she didn't really stand much of a chance. But hell, it was worth a shot...
Veti felt herself uncharacteristically subdued as her smile dimmed, weak and tight as she nodded to Nestor and Semyon first before standing beside Nestor's chair, the grey leather clutch purse with her Desert Eagle tucked inside twined between both her hands like some utterly inadequate shield of a sort. The werewolf was, to Veti's eyes, quite beautiful. Her fur red and brown, mottled with the grey of her great age, she could see no facade to her, no artifice in her mannerisms. There was a crescent moon of scar tissue across her throat, and Veti knew its origins in an instant.
Silver.
Only silver could scar a werewolf like that, and she would know that well enough. It had been the silvered edges of the fledgling vampire Joseph's sword that marred both her abdomen and back where he'd tried to run her through - a mortal mistake for the poor boy. Veti shook her head quickly, letting the year-old memory free. There was enough trouble for this moment, after all, and -
One crimson eyebrow shot up in genuine surprise. The one sight Veti honestly hadn't expected to witness was the ancient, revered werewolf offer up a cigar to Semyon like she was passing him a joint.
