Author's Note: I'm glad people have still been enjoying this! It's a concept that I'm really enjoying. All the werewolves refer to each other by male pronouns; sex and gender are understood differently by them, and the ramifications of accidentally outing a higher-ranked wolf as female to the human population is not worth what they see as a small distinction linguistically. So for them, out loud, everyone defaults to male. This will be explored later when some human characters appear.

Part Two: The Offer

The wolf comes bounding out of the back room of the café a half hour or so after the pack gathered, a wild, happy grin on his face. He immediately looks towards the corner where Grantaire has taken up his residence the last two weeks, and if anything his smile widens on seeing the stray still there.

Grantaire sits stunned, caught like a rabbit or a deer suddenly faced with a charging predator. Like prey, he should find his heart and his feet and run. He should leave while he still has all his limbs intact, before he can get into an altercation with this pack.

He doesn't want to fight with them. They've been kind to him, leaving him this space, allowing him the joy of at least watching a normal pack function, not injuring him.

If he doesn't want to fight, he has to run.

But he doesn't want to run. He wants to stay here, he wants to continue to watch their alpha, he wants to listen when they emerge from their den and speak with the rest of the humans. Sometimes they speak of nothing, of people and events at the university that Grantaire doesn't understand; sometimes they speak of matters that are important to the humans. Of civil unrest, of standing up to the monarchy, of rebellion, and Grantaire has never heard a pack take the side of the low-ranked humans before.

He'd like to keep hearing it, even if he doesn't understand it, even if it's probably just a ruse. He'd like—

"Hello." The strange wolf settles down in the empty chair across the table from Grantaire, placing both his hands flat on the table in front of him.

Showing that he isn't a threat, that this isn't to be a battle immediately, and Grantaire relaxes slightly despite the panicked instincts and bitter experience of the last few years telling him that this is a foolish thing to do.

"That's better, my friend. No need for so much panic and despair—certainly not on my account!" The strange wolf grins, a happy expression, a grin that could very well belong to a true human. He wears the guise of his humanity well, better than most of their people. "Now, how about we get to know each other a bit better?"

They don't speak for a few long seconds. To those humans watching, not much is happening, but Grantaire can see the other wolf open his mouth just a bit before drawing a deep breath. Pulling air into his mouth and nose at the same time, and the pack wolf's eyes glaze slightly as he siphons through the scents of the tavern.

Grantaire follows suit. This is likely for his benefit, after all. The pack-wolf would have caught his scent before, would already have read his rank and sex and lack of any mate or pack-bonds. Grantaire hasn't had a chance to see all the pack wolves alone and do the same, though he's lingered over each of their scent-trails over the past few days.

This wolf is female, though like the rest of the pack he dresses like a male human. This wolf is dominant—in nearly any other pack, this wolf would be alpha. Not in this pack, though. Not when he shares a pack with the blond wolf with the blue eyes. This wolf is mated, to another dominant wolf, to one close to his own rank, and Grantaire frowns, trying to disentangle the other wolf's scent and determine which is more dominant. It shouldn't be so difficult. Wolves in the same pack didn't have the same rank; mated wolves weren't ever the same rank.

"Now that we're a little better acquainted, I'm Courfeyrac." The pack-wolf holds his hand out, smiling more gently now. There's an undercurrent of confusion and uncertainty to his expression, though.

"Grantaire." Taking Courfeyrac's hand for a brief second, Grantaire tries not to curse out loud as he finally remembers to lower his head, to drop his eyes. This is a dominant wolf. They've just read each other's scent, and this wolf will expect him to act as his body says he is, subordinate.

"It's very nice to make your acquaintance, Grantaire." Courfeyrac smiles again, the joy quickly outshining the hesitancy in his face. "You've made the last few weeks rather exciting for us, you know."

"I do realize it must have been rather difficult for your p—for your people, having someone like me nearby. I've thought about leaving many times, and if you wish to evict me I will certainly go, but it's so bitterly cold outside this winter, and I…" How is he to explain what he's been doing and what he wants, especially in a room filled with normal people, when he must censor his words enough that no one sentence could potentially give away this pack?

"His name is Enjolras." Courfeyrac's hand brushes over Grantaire's, a gesture of comfort, of conciliation. "He is a fair leader. We are happy following him."

"Enjolras." Repeating the word slowly, Grantaire fits it to the blond wolf, to the fierce eyes. "I like that."

"I've noticed that you like him." Courfeyrac laughs, a bright, pleasant, pure sound of true amusement. There's a hesitancy to his expression again, though, an uncertainty behind the joy.

Grantaire resists the urge to growl as he quickly drops his head and his eyes again. The other wolf wouldn't understand that Grantaire's growl is directed at Grantaire alone, not a threat or a challenge or a sign of madness. Grantaire is subordinate. Courfeyrac is a dominant wolf. Grantaire will remember, and he will force his body to react appropriately, even if the instincts that should lead him to do so are broken beyond repair. "I take pleasure where I can, in beautiful places, in beautiful people. It's one of the things you learn, wandering as I have. Once I spent the better part of a day simply admiring a flower. I felt rather like one of those poets, you know, the romantic ones that are taught about in universities, forever mooning over this or that piece of nature. Granted, I had a bit of help in my distraction, I believe it was mainly absinthe but that could have been before I began my long affair with the Green Fairy. Ah, but you're not interested in hearing about me, and I'm boring you, aren't I?"

Shaking his head, Courfeyrac offers another gentle smile and a brush of his hand. The glaze that had been beginning to cover his eyes as Grantaire rambled disappears as though it had never been. "No. I'm actually quite interested in you, as are my friends."

"Truly?" Grantaire feels hope soar in his heart, a bright, fierce bird. It almost immediately crashes, burning in the memories of other pack's rejections, and he turns his eyes away from Courfeyrac. "But you won't once more of you see me. I'm not quite… normal."

"Very few people are actually normal." Courfeyrac leans closer, a conspirator. "Enjolras and the rest are very forgiving of… abnormalities in some areas, so long as your heart is true in others."

Grantaire stares into Courfeyrac's brown eyes, trying to read how much of what the man says and shows is true. It seems true. This wolf seems like the kind to tell the truth, and he hasn't reacted too badly so far to anything that Grantaire's said or done. Likely he hasn't noticed exactly how defective Grantaire is, but still… maybe…

No. Best not to hope, especially not when Courfeyrac made it clear that some normalcy would still be expected of him. "In what areas must I be normal in order to be considered?"

"Not normal. It's really quite abnormal, actually. True is the word I use, and I think it's the fairest word. But if we're going to get into the actual haggling part of this, rather than the enticing, I believe you should come with me. Meet the rest. Then we can speak more freely."

Speak of things like pack and bonds and submission and dominance and their views on the humans without telling the humans that something else lurks beside them. Grantaire nods, standing slowly, gesturing for Courfeyrac to lead the way.

Foolish. This is foolish, and he's almost certainly going to regret it.

He doesn't know if he can trust this wolf. He doesn't know if he can trust this pack. He has only Courfeyrac's word that the pack is interested in speaking with him and not tearing him apart. True, he feels that Courfeyrac is being honest with him, but one thing wolves learned quickly from humans was how to lie. This wolf, so good at mimicking humanity, so jovial as he greets humans to either side as they make their way toward the back room of the Musain again… this wolf could be leading him into a trap. This wolf could be leading him to his death, or worse, to his maiming prior to being turned out into winter's loving embrace.

He doesn't allow himself to think that this wolf may be leading him to a pack that might accept him. It's too strange and foreign a concept. It would be a hope too easily crushed, and in the crushing Grantaire fears he would lose all that remains of his spirit.

Better to just focus on the alpha's blue eyes. He will throw himself on that wolf's mercy. He will prostrate himself, as is proper, and perhaps… perhaps…

Perhaps they will let him live.

It's as far as he allows his wandering, helpless hopes to get.

Somehow, though, it's far enough.