He's not sure how to explain what she just saw, but then she says, "Wait, you're a werewolf?" and he feels like he's mostly off the hook.
"Uh," he says, and she raises an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
They're silent a moment before she says, "How—that explains—wait, you have to tell me everything."
He blinks at her, "What, now?"
"Of course!" she exclaims, hands coming up to frame her temples. Her red shirt rides up, jean jacket too, and he says, "I'm the alpha?" like a question.
She quiets. "Wow," she finally says, "is that why you're trying to fight off Bardo?"
"I mean, kind of," he says, "but not exactly."
"Alpha McCall," she says thoughtfully, quietly, and glances at him shyly.
"Oh no," he says, hands raised up, "no, it's not like that."
"Come on," she says, "it sounds good."
"But what can I call you, then?" he asks, tucking his hands into his jean pockets. He stretches, and her eyes follow the pull of his orange shirt.
"Kira?" she says, eyebrows furrowed and vaguely confused, and he shakes his head.
"I like how 'Fox' sounds," he tells her, and she groans.
"That's terrible," she says, "I'm not a stripper." He laughs.
"I like it," he insists, and she smiles.
"Fine. But only if you tell me more about this werewolf business."
He feels a grin tugging at his mouth. "Sure."
