Dog Vs Cat


Hannah_icon.gif Junayd_icon.gif

Summary: The stupid cat wins. :(

Date It Happened: January 23, 2002

Dog Vs Cat

Lin Sister Herbal

For once in its long history of Fridays, Lin Sister Herbal is less-than-busy. Of course, the lull might have something to do with the fact that it's still early in the day — and the fact that Emeline has stepped out to deal with a few other matters, so the shop is technically closed. Junayd is still hanging around in case customers walk in, but for the most part, he is … amusing himself with a laser pointer. This involves flashing the red dot around the store and following it around. Don't try to understand the appeal; it's lost on those who are not as enlightened.

Ringa-dinga! The door opens, and that music (only in the miiiiiind) starts up again as Hannah stalks down the aisle, expression calm, but body language suggesting an ass-whuppin' has cometh due. She stops at the counter, and calmly regards Junayd. Doesn't say a word. Yet.

Almost as soon as the bell announces Hannah's arrival, she's got a red dot on her. It starts at the ankles and works its way up. Legs, legs, legs, legs, belly, belly, boobs, boobs, boobs … boobs. Hello, ladies. But as before, the mental music screeches to a grinding halt and his expression of lusty interest snaps into a sharp frown as soon as Junayd catches sight of her face. Goddamn it. He clicks off the laser pointer and stares at her with an irritated twitch of the corner of his mouth for a moment — then clicks the laser pointer on again and aims it directly between her eyes. It's a good way to keep his gaze above shoulder level. Must less distracting. "Sorry, we don't serve your kind here," he grunts flatly. "Try the local pound."

"I will keep this simple, and use words with a limited amount of syllables so you understand," says Hannah. "If you are caught in our territory hunting members of the Griffith Park pack again, you will be dealt with directly, and by that I don't mean given a cookie and sent on your way. There's a rogue in town, and he's fair game. You keep away from me and mine, no matter what they do. And if they do something, you bring it to me, or you keep your nose out of it."

Click. Off goes the laser pointer again, and Junayd pauses a moment — then grins toothily. He leans forward with elbows on the counter, laser pointer tucked under his arm. "Now I'll keep this very simple for you," he intones, illustrating his point with the index finger of his free hand. "Werewolf kill person. Werewolf be killed. I don't give a damn if it's one of your 'Kumbayah I'm A Werewolf' buddies or a rogue, it dies. Period."

"I think not." Hannah says calmly, "And I'm not going to get into a 'no I won't' 'yes you will' contest with you. Corey is very much alive and being tended to by the pack for what he did. That poor woman will have our help in dealing with her child, and we will destroy that rogue at the first opportunity. You've been duly warned about what will happen if you come after one of my people, so it's on your head…and the rest of your body parts, if you don't listen." She turns her back on him and begins the walk back to the door. Message delivered, as far as she's concerned.

Junayd shrugs and straightens. "The more of your people that come after me, the more of them that I get to kill. You want to make my job easier, you go right on ahead." She shouldn't walk away because that makes her ass visible and he's trying not to look. So in an effort to keep himself from ogling, he vaults over the counter and trots forward to get the door for her in a sickeningly polite manner. Except boobs. Goddamn it. "Sorry, but your little pack's punishment isn't good enough. We put down dogs that attack people. Werewolves are no different. So I'll be sure to drop by and take what's due."

Hannah looks over her shoulder. "You try to go for Corey, you'll go through me first. You want to try it? You're welcome to." She then turns, considers him. "I'll make you a deal, Junayd. You're so sure of yourself and your own capabilities, and I'm the one claiming responsibility for the shifters here. So if you can put me on the ground with nothing but your fists and your feet right now? I'll give you Corey. I'll line up the entire pack including myself and you can deliver your own personal I love you's right to our brainpans. But if I put you down, then you keep to your side of things and you respect my position of leadership in this city. No trouble on either side. Tempting, isn't it? You get a virtual collection of skins to put on your wall, and clean out the filthy werewolf problem just at the cost of kicking my ass."

Now that's just too easy and takes all the thrill out of the hunt. But Junayd, of course, doesn't mention this. Because the prospect of kicking Hannah's (very finely shaped and beautiful) ass is just too much of an opportunity to pass up. She's been under his skin for at least a week now. So he grins again and sweeps his arm out toward the parking lot invitingly. "We can have it out in the alley." Ladies first.

Hannah is already at the door and out of it, prepared to meet him in the alley. Of course, he could just take a bullet to her, except that would be cheating. She suspects he's not a cheater. Just an asshole.

And Junayd would never shoot a shifter in human form unless under threat of imminent and debilitating harm. Sure, a fight with Hannah might bruise him up a bit or break a few bones, but she's not out to kill him. Besides, he promised. As a gesture of good faith, as soon as he's in the alley, he strips off his coat and proceeds to empty his pockets and the pouches on his belt and the sheaths in his boots and the weapons concealed up the sleeves of his shirt. It, uh, takes a few minutes. All of it is piled onto his coat, and then Junayd just stands there and smiles. "What, no bodyguard? Or is he ninjaing around mysteriously above my head?"

Hannah ignores the fact that he just insulted her, and docilely waits, almost deceptively placid seeming, her hands not even up in a defensive position. She just watches him with a sort of calm focus.

Junayd, on the other hand, doesn't seem to be caring much at all about Hannah. At least his focus doesn't seem to be … well, focused. The smile remains, and he even takes his eyes off her to casually peer up at the rooftops above. "No, really, where is he? He seems so dedicated to your well-being, you'd think he'd be following you if you came to visit evil Junayd." He's not watching her — but he's fully aware of her.

Hannah rolls her eyes faintly. "He's not here. He is very concerned about face and honor, and feels compelled to repay my kindness and hospitality." She won't attack him, so it seems this is going to take a while.

He can't feint her into attacking. Drat. Junayd drops his smile back onto Hannah. "Awww, how cute. His little foxy honor has been impugned." Well, enough of that. He suddenly rushes forward. If she's not going to try to deliver the first blow, it's up to him.

Aaaand she's not there! She shifts out of the way as he comes up on her, lashing out a kick as he goes past to add to his momentum, and thereby introduce him to the wall. Her expression remains placid. While stuntfighting isn't real fighting, she's had a good deal of both, and one thing stuntwork can teach you? The art of percieving telegraphing in a fight.

But surprisingly, Junayd is also not there. He was expecting a dodge, and when Hannah disappears, he pivots around to face her. The kick is not as prepared for as the dodging — he was expecting an elbow or punch — but one arm snaps down to take the hit rather than, say, his kidney. The arm is brought in a sweeping motion to swipe the leg away.

Hannah doesn't give him time for much follow up, as she takes advantage of him shifting to deflect her leg up step in at an angle and apply her elbow up and around to try and bring it across his face. Once they've engaged, she's no longer so avoidant, now she's taking on the effort of putting him down as quickly as possible.

There's a quiet grunt of pain as Junayd takes the hit squarely on the cheek, causing some minor cutting on the inside where skin crashes against teeth. It's enough to stun momentarily, and there is no immediate retaliation. Just a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.

Hannah takes advantage of the moment of stun to bring her arm back again for a backfist, and dance out of his range of reach. She was perhaps, not so easy to quell as he was expecting. She appears to be guaging him carefully. He outweighs her, so staying out of any grapples is the wisest course.

Another grunt as Junayd takes the second hit to the face, right across the bridge of the nose, and steps back, blinking as his eyes start to water. Damn it. Appealing and a fighter. This is really, really not helping his situation any. But now it's a matter of pride, too. He takes a moment to spit blood from his mouth and wipe his lips across the back of his hand. It'll be healed in a couple days. Then he pauses to size her up again, smirking. "Oooh, someone doesn't need a bodyguard." He tries to make it sound mocking. It doesn't quite come out that way.

Hannah decides to see if she can press him. She advances in a flurry of kicks and punches, occaisionally throwing in a feint, trying to get him situated in a bad spot. But she's in danger of succumbing to the rhythm of her own efforts, and that might give Junayd an opportunity.

Junayd's form of hand-to-hand typically involves breaking bones and causing internal injuries, but this is a spar. He's careful. And being more accustomed to Hannah's speed, he's better able to defend himself. He remains aware of his surroundings and does not allow himself to be maneuvered into a corner or into a position that would not be easily defendable — but it's not easy. He takes a few hits here and makes a messy block there. Upon sensing an exploitable rhythm, however, he quickly moves to disrupt it at the first opportunity with a hard punch to the gut.

Hannah takes it, losing air as she does so, and attempting to shift herself back and away from his hands as she tries to recover. He's stronger than she's expected.

Junayd doesn't try to press the attack any further and allows her some time to recover. He's enjoying himself. It would be a pity to end it so soon. "Had enough?" he asks, shooting more red-tinted spit at the ground. "You can't tell me that's stopped you." C'monnnnn.

Hannah still has yet to say a word, and aside from exhalations of pain, her expression hasn't changed, either. He can enjoy this if he likes, but she placed her people's lives on this bout. Once she recovers, her fighting style abruptly shifts - she moves into a classic kung fu stance, body in a sideways line, one fist brought back, the other hand angled forward, those front fingers beckoning with a graceful gesture, like she's something out of a Bruce Lee movie.

It would be hard to say whose emotional investment in this is greater. Junayd's personal ego probably matches Hannah's dedication to her people, but he also loves a good fight. When Hannah goes into a stance, his eyes shine with pure delight, and he leaps right back into the fray much as she had previously: a flurry of punches, kicks, and feints. He moves fast and hard, and aside from the aforementioned restraint in breaking bones or causing internal bleeding, he doesn't hold back.

Hannah parries and dodges and ducks, but the onslaught is relentless and she's trying to avoid being grappled. She's also losing space, he keeps cornering her off so she can only get a few well placed blows. Kicks are exchange, and also punches, until finally at one point she realizes this could go on forever, and taking a wrist, she attempts to toss him.

Which might just be her undoing, as it allows for the one thing she did not want: grappling. The closer contact allows for Junayd to reach out with his free arm, which he attempts to wrap around and grip Hannah to bring her with him on the fall. If he succeeds, he'll attempt to use the momentum to roll and land on top.

Hannah lets out a gasp as she gets out-strengthed, and they both land with a hard thump. She struggles and cannot get loose - in her desperation, she headbutts him. It may not get her free, but it'll give him a damn good robin's egg.


Skull-on-skull contact hurts. That lump now growing on his forehead will also heal in a couple days, but the pain now is less-than-thrilling. It doesn't get Hannah free, but it does get Junayd a little angry, and he suddenly goes for a much different approach: he rushes her throat with his teeth, though he does not intend to bite down.

Hannah goes perfectly still, realizing where her teeth are, knowing this close, he can smell her, and practically hear the blood coursing through her veins. If he's any kind of true shapeshifter, the urge to rip her throat out must be irrepressable. She weighs the options. She gambled her pack and she lost. But maybe she can buy time, and maybe she can get him to change the stakes rendered given enough of it.

After a moment of being perfectly still, she says quietly, "That's the first step, you know. Submission."

Whatever that means. Regardless, she moves under his teeth, tilting her head back and to the side, letting him have the line of her throat. Submitting. He's won.

It's not an easy battle, having the life-vein right between one's teeth and not biting down. It's especially not easy for Junayd, for whom instincts are far closer to the surface since his second curse. If not for the confusion of his more human side coupled with Hannah's effect on him, he probably would not have stopped. Whatever it is, it buys her enough time to speak, which in turn helps ground him. Cats don't quite submit as wolves do. The gesture is odd to him, and so is the phrase that accompanies it. After a moment's hesitation, he finally withdraws his teeth and peers down at her from close quarters. "The first step in what?" he utters.

Hannah's eyes flick up to him, but she doesn't lift her head. "Understanding how to live with the beast under your skin."

Junayd closes his eyes and takes a deep breath through his nostrils in an attempt to keep himself calm. It's a bad move, as it floods his nose with scents that are not at all conducive to remaining calm, but he manages not to lash out again in any respect of the word. It also doesn't help in keeping his head on straight, which in turn makes it impossible for him to think too clearly and keep up his usual defenses. It's a bad place to be when you're Junayd. "I don't want your help," he growls, but he sounds more shaky than angry.

"Don't you?" she replies, not looking at him, not turning and hiding the pulse of her throat. "Who do you hate more, your animal, or mine? I'm a dead woman as of this moment, as are most of those I've taught. Those I learned them from don't share with any but their own, so when you kill me and mine, you won't have another chance to learn. So you may want to take the opportunity to gain my knowledge before you put a bullet in my skull and those of my people."

Junayd's lips peel back from his gritted teeth in a silent snarl, but he doesn't open his eyes. It's that pulse. He wants to simultaneously tear into it and nuzzle against it. It's driving him insane and pounding in his own head — or maybe that's the hit he took a few seconds ago. His jaws part and he lowers his head as though about to aim for another bite, but he again stops himself even before his teeth make contact, instead resting with his nose just beneath the curve of Hannah's jaw and releasing a trembling sigh. "Tell me about the rogue," he rumbles. He needs to focus on something else.

"All I know is that he appeared last night, he bit that child, and if I find him I'm going to kill him." she says matter-of-factly. "He's aware of himself. I know that much. Which means he's had some kind of training, but it was from me, or those that taught me."

There's nothing more dangerous than hunting something with the reasoning of a human and the strength and senses of an animal. A werewolf in control of itself won't be easy to take down. Junayd's mind leaps on the new distraction and hungrily begins to grind out ideas as to how to go about it. It's a welcome reprieve and allows him to gain focus. When he finally lifts his head again and glares down at Hannah, the clarity has returned to his eyes. "What is it you can teach me? I don't change at the full moon like you do."

Hannah finally turns her head to gaze up at him. "But you do change whether you like it or not, and you remember very little of what happened to you while you were shifted. Am I right?"

"I remember enough." More than enough. He doesn't answer the other question, but the affirmative is implied. "You can't get near me. Sometimes I can keep myself from killing, but not always."

"You can remember more. Enough for it not to be a fight. Enough to be able to make choices, and communicate, in a limited fashion. But if you're not interested…" she shrugs, and lets it ripple down her body. And there's another weapon, as her eyes track to his, and she very deliberately lets that not-quite-seen something that makes her a honey-trap get under his skin. But even as she does it, she asks demurely, "Were you planning on getting off of me?"

It would not appear to be working, except that Junayd's eyes take on a glassier appearance, and he quickly slams them shut and tenses once more. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Is she doing that on purpose? Once again, her speaking manages to ground him and gives him something to focus on. Yes, getting off.

No, wait. Damn it. Getting off of Hannah.

Slowly, he manages to pick himself up and bodily forces himself to keel over onto his side. There. He's off. He will probably not be making any sudden movements for a bit, though. "Waxing crescent moon," he huffs, fighting and failing against the slight purr in his voice. "I keep a cage in the basement of the shop." That's about as much of a 'yes plz' as she'll get from him.

Hannah rests for a minute, and then kippups to her feet. "I'll come visit you. We'll see how things go. I need to get back. Do me a favor and don't let my people know you're collective executioner. It's my job to tell them I gambled and lost." With that, she walks out of the alleyway, heading for her little white Miata and give him the space to breathe.

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