notrestingyet

Samuel had had a diverting day of killing things. It had been a while since he'd really cut loose in that manner, and he found he didn't like it that much, or maybe that was just because the alligators tasted nasty. It had been necessary, though, to protect those who were less indestructible than your average werewolf (or your above average werewolf). Then he'd come home, shifted, and washed the alligator bits off himself--then cleaned up the alligator bits he'd tracked in. Then he'd packed an overnight bag, because one could not simply drive into DC, give a speech to make one's father happy, and leave, no, there had to be meetings and receptions and politics.

Still, he supposed, better him than Charles.