The Sentinels Whispering words,

a shout, ringing out. lionel whirled, thrust his shoulders through the crackling underbrush. a boy there, he looked like shit, sunstained shit. and the woman nearby, a doddering smudge of sunless shadow. the mayfair was intrigued and repelled, but it was the former that won.
he approached on stiff legs, muzzle tucked and murkwater eyes hard with watchful challenge. "do i know you?" came the sardonic curl of his lips. it was to the boy he spoke, but lionel trusted neither of them, wolfbit or no. "a lot of nerve, insulting someone from that far away."