Randall walked out of the Den, hoping to spend the money he had just gotten from the bet Lilith had initiated. He was taking the short cut through the woods, and through a graveyard, when he heard that God-awful ringing.

He took off his clothes so he won't rip into them, and let Greybeard out. Time to get this done. Randall thought as Greybeard reshaped his body.

Greybeard gave a huff, hating that ringing noise. "Pathetic," He rumbled as he took off in the direction where it was coming from. He approached a place thriving with spirits and energy.

"Graveyard," He corrected, remembering the term. He sniffed the air, and quickly found the culprit. Greybeard saw two figures, the first one had their back to the werewolf, and the second facing the first. They seemed to be talking.

Greybeard smelled blood from the first creature, like he was hurt. Greybeard gave a low growl, squinting his eyes as he knew that the one reeking of blood, sage, and dust was the one responsible for that wretched ringing. The second creature saw Greybeard and tried to warn the other one.

Something was said and Greybeard gave a snarl, lunging. The first one turned, wide-eyed and scared. Before Greybeard did anything more than take a lunging step forward, the second one hit the creature over the head with the thing in their hands. That's a shovel, Randall thought in their shared conscious. Most times Greybeard takes control and Randall just leans back and lets him, watching from the sidelines. But when Randall saw this creature—Jack Morton, Randall corrected—through Greybeard's eyes, he was at the wheel.

Greybeard had this creature who attacked on the ground in an instant, his clawed paw crushing the creature. Easy, Greybeard. Don't kill him. Randall thought. Greybeard leaned his massive head down, and sniffed this creature. Giving a growl, he got off of them and was gone from the clearing.

Running back to where he had started, Greybeard skid to a halt, barely out of breath. Retracting, Randall soon stood naked as he rolled his shoulders. Quickly putting his clothes on, he made his way down to the store where he was originally planning to go, and bought himself two packets of gummy worms, packets of gum, and a few energy drinks.

The lady at the register didn't even bat an eye as she rang the items up—seeming to have gotten used to teenagers grabbing things like this all the time. Walking out with a 'have a good night' being said, he quickly walked back to the Den.

On the way, he tore open one of the packages of gummy worms and began to eat them. When he arrived at the Den, he was bombarded with questions.

"Where the hell have you been?" Hamish asked, obviously not seeing the bag he had in his hand. "Did you get hurt?"

"Dude, chill, I only went to get a couple of things from the market," Randall said, holding up the plastic bag, and his bag of gummy worms. Visibly showing relief, Hamish relaxed. He was standing behind the bar, leaning against it. "Where are the girls?" Randall then asked, looking around to see that they weren't downstairs. Hamish gestured upstairs.

"They went upstairs doing... whatever girls do, I don't know," Hamish shrugged. Randall offered some gummy worms to Hamish, who shook his head, rejecting the offer. Randall shrugged and ate two more, sitting on the couch.

He heard laughing drifting from Lilith's room from upstairs. "Wonder what they're talking about," Randall said, looking up where the noise came from.

"Beats me," Hamish said. "Shortly after you left Lilith dragged Mazikeen up there," He said, pouring himself some whiskey. "Want one?" He offered to his friend.

Randall gave a nod. "Whiskey and gummy worms, splendid choice if I do say so myself," Randall said, taking the glass Hamish gave to him. Hamish rolled his eyes at what Randall had said, sitting in one of the arm chairs with his own glass.

They stayed silent, Randall eating his gummy worms and Hamish staring out the window lost in thought.

"Penny for your thoughts, Hamster?" Randall asked. Hamish looked at Randall with a disapproving look. "Don't call me that," He said, shaking his head.

"Oh, so Maze can call you any nickname she wants, but I—your longtime friend—can't?" Randall said in mock offense.

"There's a difference between you two," Hamish said. "One, you come up with weird nicknames, and two I lo-" Hamish cut himself off. "You what?" Randall asked, interested. Hamish massaged the back of his neck.

"I think I like her. As in like-like her," Hamish confessed. Randall studied his friend. "You mean love?" He clarified, to which Hamish nodded. "Man, is it crazy that I feel like this? So soon after Cassie?"

Randall shook his head. "No, it's not. She'd want you to be happy, dude," Randall replied, taking a drink of his alcohol. "You need to tell Maze how you feel, though." Randall offered.

Hamish gave a nod. "But the timing isn't right. Something happens, and the moment would be ruined." Hamish said, taking a drink of his whiskey. "Then create the moment," Randall suggested.

Before Hamish could reply, there was a loud crash from upstairs, and Randall saw Hamish jump to his feet in record time. Randall was slower, but beat him to the stairs as both men ran up them.

Opening the door, Randall walked in with Hamish at his heels. The scene before him made him laugh. Mazikeen was on the floor, the dresser on her legs. Lilith was laughing hysterically, but was picking up the dresser.

"What happened?" Randall asked. Lilith looked over and said in bouts of laughter, "Mazikeen- she went to try and-" She was having difficulties saying the actual sentence because she was laughing so hard. "I tried to get the spider that was crawling on the wall above the dresser," Mazikeen said, laughing embarrassingly, her face flushed.

Randall and Hamish exchanged blank looks before they, too, joined in with the laughter. Walking over, Hamish helped Lilith with the dresser, then helped his girlfriend—no, not girlfriend, Randall thought. Just someone he is fuck-buddies with.

"Are you okay?" Hamish asked, looking at Mazikeen's legs to see if she was fine from where the dresser hit. "Oh, I'm fine," She said, dusting her pants.

"As fun as all this is," Randall stated around a mouth full of gummy worms. "I've got to get some sleep," He said, turning around and leaving the room. "Night dudes," He said as he went to his room with his bag of purchases.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Over the span of the week, the University had experienced more deaths from the Golem. Hamish, Randall, Lilith and I were all separate; Randall in class as well as Lilith, Hamish teaching, and I was wondering the all-too familiar campus. I'm not even enrolled here and I know where more things are than most freshman, and that's saying something.

Maybe I should apply here. I thought. I have some college experience under my belt, and maybe I could be a TA like Hamish. Maybe not in Philosophy, but Psychology? Or Art? My major was art, so I could be a TA in that department at least. I walked to the main building where you'd go to apply.

It didn't take long, and when I asked for paperwork, the lady at the desk gave me a smile. I talked to the people I needed to, and was sent on my way after filling out some paperwork. All I have to do now is wait for the background checks and the overview of my paper work, which they said could take up to five business days.

I walked back outside with copies of things they gave me (roughly the same paperwork and some things highlighting the school) and took a deep breath. My phone beeped, indicating I had a message. Opening up my phone, I saw it was from Hamish, checking up on me.

—12:47 PM—

Mish:

Hey, just checking in and seeing how things are for you.

I gave a smile as I typed a reply:

Me:

Hey! Things are good over here. Are you on a lunch break?

I pocketed my phone and began to walk towards the Humanities building. It wasn't long before I heard the beep of an incoming text. Pulling out my phone, I looked down at it with a smile and quickly replied.

Mish:

Yes. Mind stopping by and having lunch with me?

Me:

Of course. Want me to pick something up?

Already walking up to a food truck Hamish and I have been to before, he replied with a thumbs up emoji. Clicking my phone off and pulling out my wallet to get Hamish's card, I waited in line. When it was my turn, I ordered two sandwiches; one Hamish and I liked from here. I stepped out of line after paying for them and to wait for them to be made.

I looked around, enjoying the coolness and sunlight. I heard someone walk up to me.

"Hi," He said. I looked at this man who walked up. "Um, hi?" I responded. Last time someone walked up to me and started up a conversation it didn't end too well.

"My name is Jack," He said, offering his hand. I tentatively shook it. "Uh, hello, Jack," I said, unsure what to make of him. He wore a green jacket, a brown bag on his back, and his hair came down to his cheek bones and was parted off centered and to the left; not quite in the middle, but not to one side either. He was a little taller than I was, but what really was striking to me were his eyes; they were blue with hues of green.

"I just have a quick question; Do you know anything about the Blue Rose?" He asked. I looked at him, having no idea what he's talking about. "The what?" I asked, really confused. I only know of the flower. If he was talking about anything else, then I was lost.

"You know, the secret society here on campus?" He prompted quietly. I shook my head, indicating I had no idea what he was talking about. I seem to always attract the crazies, I thought as I heard my name being called for my order. "Mazikeen, order 113!"

I turned and grabbed my order, Jack following me. "I'm sorry, uh, Jack was it? I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not a student here," I said to clarify things. Jack seemed bummed, but he gave me a smile anyway. "Okay, then, sorry to bother you Mazikeen," He said, walking backwards and waving in my direction.

I briefly wondered how he knew my name, scared for a minute, then I remembered that my name was shouted by the food truck dude.

"Good luck with finding out about that Blue Rose thing, though," I said politely, walking away with a returning wave before Jack said anything more. What a peculiar dude, I thought as I entered the Humanities building, finding the Philosophy classroom easily. I walked in to see Hamish sitting at the desk grading some papers. He looked up as I gave a knock, and gave a grin.

"My savior," Hamish said jokingly as I walked over, placing down the wrapped sandwiches on the cluttered desk. "Your accusation humbles me," I said sarcastically, doing a dramatic bow before pulling up a chair and sitting in it next to Hamish. "How are things going?" I asked, looking at the papers in front of him.

"Fabulous," Hamish muttered, taking a sandwich and opening it. He took a bite just as I sat down the copies that I had gotten from the University. "What's that?" He asked, gesturing to them.

"Oh, these are copies of the paperwork I had filled out," I said, taking a bite of my own sandwich. Hamish looked at me, wanting me to explain more. "And...?" He prompted, swallowing his bite.

"And," I said, swallowing my bite. "It's for a Teaching Assistant job here," I took another bite, waiting for his response.

"That's great, Z!" He said, genuinely happy for me. "What do you plan on doing?"

"Well," I started. "My major when I was in college was Art, so I decided why not try to be a TA for art?" I shrugged. Hamish was looking at me with an expression caught between happiness for me, but confusion. "Wait, you were an art student? How come I didn't know about this until now?" He said, setting down his sandwich and leaning forward.

I gave another shrug, setting down my own food. "I just never really told anyone, I guess. With the whole thing with becoming a werewolf, then the Trevor fiasco," I gave a grimace. "It just never got brought up,"

Hamish gave a smile. "So, what kind of art do you do?" He asked, genuinely curious. I gave a sheepish smile, tucking my hair behind my ear as I bit my lip. "Um, I traditionally draw. I also do some digital work, but mostly I use pencil and paper," I said. I pulled out my phone and went to my gallery. Flipping through my photos, I found the folder of my art that I either saved from a digital art app or pictures I have taken. I passed the phone to Hamish so he could look through them.

Most of the drawings there are of animals ranging from monsters of any sort, to felines, to canines, to aquamarine animals. There are some drawings of couples, some portraits of singular humans, some fanart of different shows and movies, and a few landscapes. I mostly stick to animals or monsters, though, only because they are so quirky and have different anatomy that it's fun to play with and experiment different attributes. Some drawings in there are depicted of emotions or mythical beasts representing my different emotions at the time.

Where I sat, I could see each picture he swiped, and whenever there was one that was personal, all I wanted to do was snatch my phone back and not let him see those aspects of me.

Hamish was nodding, looking through the photos of the drawings. "These are great, Z. Have you thought of selling art?" He said, still looking through my art work. He was swiping through the drawings of humans I have done when he suddenly said, "Why do you draw more animals than humans?"

"Okay, to answer your first question; I have thought of it, but haven't done it yet, and the second is because they are more unique than humans," I said, taking back my phone when he was done looking through the pictures.

"Can you draw right now?" He asked, causing me to give him a suspicious look. "I don't have my sketchbook and a pencil, let alone paper to do it," I pointed out. Hamish looked around the desk, pulling out a few drawers and found some printer paper and a mechanical pencil. "This good?" He asked, handing me a few leaves of paper. I gave him an eye roll and a smile as I took the paper from his hand.

"If you want me to draw, then I guess I will," I said, putting the paper on an open spot on the desk, and held the pencil in my dominant hand. I thought for a moment about what I'll draw. Cat? Wolf? Horse? I thought, until I finally settled on an idea. Hamish had resorted to grading the papers while I drew, glancing up from time to time.

I first started off with a light circle, this going to be the head of my subject. I started to make a plus symbol on the circle, this indicating where I want the subject to be facing, and started to make distinctive features; eyes, nose, mouth, and jaw. I started to make the neck, a rough sketch. By this time, I had my arm around the paper so Hamish couldn't see what I was drawing, and if he did, it would be so little of it that he wouldn't be able to figure out.

I started to darken the lines for the rough shape of the face and neck and shoulders, distinguishing the eyes and mouth. I drew the hair of the subject, and started to smudge shadows where there should be in the angle where the subject was positioned. I took the eraser and began to erase highlights in the hair and the skin, the taking the graphite and making lines in the hair that makes it look like hair instead of rough lines. I finished by shading some more, and adding details such as clothing, and creating the shading on them, too.

Out of habit, I signed the drawing on the bottom of where the drawing stops, small letters saying MS. My finger and the side of my hand were dark grey where the graphite stained when I was shading and dragging my hand over the drawing. Hamish was almost done with the papers—only about five more to decipher the handwriting of—when I announced I was done.

I held the drawing up to me chest so he couldn't see. "Don't laugh," I said, swatting his hand away when he tried to grab it to see. "Okay, I won't. I promise," Hamish said sincerely. I reluctantly handed him the drawing and picked up my half-eaten sandwich, taking a anxious bite, waiting.

Hamish studied the drawing with an unreadable expression. He looked up from it and at me. "You drew this?" He asked, making sure that I, in fact, did and it wasn't faked in any way.

"I sat right here and did that," I pointed out. "You don't like it?" I asked, finishing off my sandwich.

"Are you kidding? I love it," He said, setting down the drawing of himself. "It's beautiful, just like the person who did it," Hamish said, resting a hand on my thigh.

Before more was said—or done—a few students walked in, getting ready for a class. Hamish gave a soft smile, putting the drawing in his binder and away in his bag. "You ready to leave?" He asked, packing up his things.

"Don't you have a class to teach?" I asked, getting up and gathering up the garbage and throwing it away. "No, the professor teaches this hour," He said. "I teach mornings while he teaches afternoons," Hamish gave a dramatic pause, then said, "Now that I think about it, he might have it that was so he could sleep in,"

I gave a laugh as I waited for him to finish gathering his things. He grabbed the papers from my hands, placing them in his bag, and walking up on my right side, taking my hand in his. We were walking in the direction of the door just as a group of girls walked in. They all started chatting excitedly when they saw Hamish walking over towards them, probably thinking that he wants to talk to them. One, a very preppy brunette, tossed her hair and began to flaunt herself to try and catch his attention, obviously not seeing me.

When Hamish passed by, the brunette "accidentally" bumped into him, crashing against his chest. "Oh-em-gee, I am so sorry," She apologized. "I didn't see you there," She said, completely ignoring me.

Hamish gave a tight smile at her, one reserved for strangers such as this girl, and said, "It's fine, no harm done,"

The girl gave him a smile, not moving away from where she stood. "Are you sure? I didn't hurt you, did I?" She fussed. Hamish shook his head, the smile still plastered on his face. "No, you didn't. Now if you'll excuse us," Hamish said, trying to bypass the girl in his way. The girl finally looked at me, a sneer clear as day on her face when she saw Hamish holding my hand.

Giving a disapproving noise, she side-stepped to the left of me. She obviously didn't like that Hamish was taken. I gave her a snarling look, my eyes flashing silver for a split second. The brunette gave a startled noise, fumbling back away from me. I caught her arm before she fell.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?" I said, pretending to not know what had occurred. I glanced at Hamish, who looked at me with an amused look. The girl yanked her arm from me. "Get away from me, you freak," She said, her voice distressed as she walked back to her group of friends. Hamish escorted me out of the classroom, stifling a laugh.

When we were a safe distance away, he asked, "Did you really have to do that?" He was laughing as he said it.

I gave a shrug. "Of course, I did. I care about you," I said, giving him my best grin. "I wouldn't have drawn you and give you the drawing if I hadn't,"