Toy Wolf

Chapter 18: salad

We were sitting like that when clothes hit the ground by our cell. Stefa craned her next to look at them and sighed.

"You need to shift," she told me.

I whined, rolling over onto my side.

"Don't fuss at me; I'm not the one who's going to be mad at you. We're trying to convince this man you're mostly human, right?" She rose from her seat, tossing my set of clothes onto the bed next to me. Stefa had received a black shirt that replaced her blood stained grey one. Her jeans fit well, which she seemed surprised by.

"I don't know whether to be flattered or unnerved," she told me. "How did they know my measurements? I don't know my own measurements nowadays." She glared at me. "Stop being difficult and shift already."

I grumbled, folding out of my wolf form and held up the new pants with a sigh. I pulled them on, noting that they also fit surprisingly well. Stefa smiled at me.

"You definitely don't need the shirt, pretty boy," she told me.

She rested a hand on my stomach, tracing her cold fingers up my chest.

"What do you know about human relationships of the romantic persuasion?" she inquired.

"That humans mate for life only sometimes," I said. "Ralph promised he'd explain more if it ever came up. I wasn't in much of a position for that to be a concern on a Montana farm."

"What about wolf relationships of the romantic persuasion?" she pressed. She was the slightest amount taller than me, the space between us scant inches.

I shrugged. "Wolves court others outside their family unit, and then mate when the time comes. Once mated, it's usually for life. Why?"

"Because I don't have the right vocabulary to talk to you about this," Stefa explained, stepping away and sitting on the bed. "And I have no idea your experience with any relationship."

"My pack was all family members," I replied. "I would have had to leave the area to find a mate. Being human is...harder. I don't understand courting as well. Mating doesn't seem to be for life, either."

"We're immortal, so that may be asking too much," Stefa admitted. "And for courting, which by the way I haven't heard that word in decades, humans tend to learn about each other, go experience life together, explore each other physically. It's more similar than you think; we just talk more. Oh, and we're generally not looking for babies out of the match; first off, I can't have children; secondly, I'm immortal. I wouldn't want children if I could have them. Any other questions?"

"I'm not the one who started asking questions," I pointed out, retrieving my shirt and pulling it over my head. "But yes, I think I understand better."

"Good," she smiled. "Because, Conor, I like you, and I don't want things to change between us when we leave here. I think I can safely say that if we were in a slightly more normal setting, I'd want to court you. But;" she took my hand in hers. "I'm older and bizarrely more human than you. So you don't have to decide anything today, I just wanted you to know I'm interested. All right?"

I nodded mutely, uncertain what to say. Stefa squeezed my hand and I sat down next her, letting her rest her head on my chest as we waited. This was comfortable, I thought. I hadn't considered any relationship at all here, and I was glad she wasn't pushing it. I wondered if back at the farm Katie still thought about me. Had she also wanted to court? She had never said so. Humans were confusing.

"Do you think we'll do dinner before or after?" she inquired.

"Who says we'll get dinner at all?" I countered.

"Please, with your metabolism, your muscles will deflate like a balloon," she laughed. "They're not going to forget to feed you. Maybe we'll have an awkward dinner with Dr. Bryce as we all pretend we didn't watch you bash a man's head in."

I flinched, turning away.

"I'm sorry, I forget that I'm more accustomed to death than you are," she sighed, wrapping an arm around me. It burned, but I didn't move. "Conor, I don't know how much you can bear if you carry this guilt around with you. Let it be."

"I can't," I told her quietly. "I'm not like you, Stefa. Killing for...for sport isn't something a wolf does. It's wrong."

"It's not sport if your life is on the line," she replied. "What was that?"

I heard a door slam down the hall. We rose from the bed; Stefa straightened my shirt and tousled my hair. I took her free hand, a little nervous about what came next. Dr. Bryce opened the cell and continued walking. Stefa and I followed behind demurely.

We passed beyond several locked doors and into an area that looked more like a home than a research facility. There was a table with a meal laid out as if we were guest of honor.

"I knew we should have pressed your suit," Stefa remarked. "Look Conor, forks and knives. The knife is the pointy one."

"Thank you, Stefa," I said dryly.

Dr. Bryce seated herself on the other side of the table. Stefa gestured for me to get her chair for her and I did so, vaguely remembering something about etiquette. We were joined by two others: Mr. Danube and Grant, both dressed in suits. They nodded to us as they sat down at either end of the table. I reached for Stefa's hand under the table and squeezed it. She squeezed my hand back.

"Hello again, Conor," said Mr. Danube. "This is my son, Grant."

"We met briefly," Grant replied, nodding his head at me.

"This is Stefa," I said.

Stefa inclined her head gracefully.

"What's the..." Grant gestured to the mouth guard on Stefa. She smiled, showing it off.

"Keeps my fangs from extending," she told him. "So everyone can believe that I'm less dangerous."

"Are you?"

"Goodness no. I have more tricks up my sleeve that two pokey teeth."

"Stefa," Dr. Bryce groaned.

"I wouldn't want to give them a false impression," she sniffed. "This is just who I am."

The food was brought out. Stefa received a single glass of blood as a large steak was sat in front of me. I didn't get a salad with mine, which I found a little disappointing. I liked cherry tomatoes too.

"Why the long face?" Dr. Bryce inquired, pausing from cutting up her own steak. "Did they burn it?"

"We can eat vegetables," I said. "I like salad as much as the next person."

"A terrible turn of phrase, as I hate salad, Conor," Stefa laughed.

Dr. Bryce rose from her seat and went into the next room.

"No steak for you, Grant?" Stefa remarked, noting his plate was much different. He had a huge salad and a couple large mushroom tops.

Grant grimaced. "No. I'm vegan for...health reasons. Grilled mushroom isn't bad through."  He took a bite and gave a smile. "Obviously, I prefer steak."

"Not until you get better you don't," Mr. Danube said. "Until then, mushroom it is."

"I don't see you sacrificing," Grant grumbled as Dr. Bryce came into the room with a small plate. It held a salad and she set this in front of me.

"Thank you," I said, surprised.

"A werewolf who eats salad," Dr. Bryce scoffed. "Just when I thought you couldn't be stranger, Conor."

I ate one of the cherry tomatoes with a grin,though the grin faded when I realized that vegetables made me homesick. I had missed the summer garden and picking zucchini and okra with Susie Lynn and pickling beets with Mel. It reminded me that despite how normal this felt, this was not home.
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I also love cherry tomatoes, but only ones from like a real garden. The ones in the store are gross. Thanks for reading!