Fact: Bethan Ellis now spent her Tuesday nights with Jack Howell in London. The first time they'd met had been the result of happenstance. The second time was convenient and familiar. The third time was intentional, and she'd come looking for him. By their fourth Tuesday meeting, it had become a tradition. Drinks and fetch with Jack on Tuesdays was officially another painfully predictable aspect of Beth's painfully predictable life.

The redundancy of her days was the painful part, but spending time with Jack was not what hurt. Having a few drinks, messing around with the dog, and having someone to listen to her while she ranted about anything that popped into her head actually made Tuesdays one of the best parts of her long, redundant week as a puller of pints and wiper of counters. She'd begun to look forward to every part of it – from meeting him out in the alley to give the dog his dinner to the accidental argument Beth almost always seemed to single handedly start and resolve within the span of a few minutes. Last night's late evening argument had been slightly more heated however, when Jack let slip that he wasn't registered with the ministry. Beth, the law abiding younger sister of an employee of the werewolf registry and childhood victim of a dark magic attack, had not taken that news lightly, and had gone off on him with a degree of passion that would have caused anyone with the slightest bit more gumption to up and leave. What they'd ultimately decided, after a good few minutes of back alley ranting under the cloak of darkness, was that she'd take him to her sister first thing the next morning, before work. First thing. She'd said it over and over again to make sure he knew she wasn't joking. They'd go first thing on Wednesday morning, and he needed to be outside the pub at 8 AM sharp... or else!

Naturally, the rumpled, agitated looking witch didn't come ambling up the alley herself until about a quarter to nine. Beth and mornings were sworn enemies, and it had been a very long time since she'd last been awake and ready to run out the door before 8 AM. She hadn't even even woken up until after eight, which still felt too early – so she tried to fall asleep again, but shot upward with a sudden start when she remembered she had plans to save the world from the threat of unregistered werewolves that morning. She was not quite as fired up about the cause as she had been the night before, when she'd had a few drinks in her. Today she was sluggish and sleepy eyed, and couldn't help but grind her back teeth together as she galumphed toward him, blinking as an icy breeze smacked her in the face.   

“I'm here, I'm here,” she grumbled, once she was close enough, just barely acknowledging that she was late, let alone nearly an hour late – especially after she'd given him so much hell the night before. Pausing a few paces away from where he stood, she sniffed, staring up at him expectantly. “If we're going, we've gotta go. She doesn't know we're coming, like, and if we want to do this we need to get to her before she's too busy.” Brynn wasn't a hairdresser, she was a social worker – she wasn't required to accept walk-ins. Beth knew that she would see him, but that wasn't the point! Pissing her off before bringing her a criminal and asking for a favor was probably not the best way to go about things. “I figured we'd apparate. Are you ready? I'll take you.”

Having never indulged in it, Jack had no idea that being in love was so much like having a panic attack. His heart throbbed, stomach churned, hands sweated and concentration wavered, and these combined with the natural animal-like instincts that were currently being heightened by the impending full moon, left Jack feeling hot and bothered despite the still frosty January air. He had been at the pub for only ten minutes before ditching his heavy leather jacket in favor of a thinner sweatshirt, and it did little to help. He had to face it, if it came to anything to do with Bethan, he would always end up flushed and sweaty.

This extreme of a physiological reaction was rather embarrassing considering they weren't even on an actual 'date'. The night before, during the fourth round of pints and fifth round of catch, the conversation had somehow turned to the full moon and Jack's 'predicament', during which he had accidentally let it slip that he was not currently registered with the ministry. After several minutes of well intentioned ranting, Beth insisted that they meet up first thing the next morning to go and get him registered by her sister. Well... 'insisted' was a bit of an understatement. 'Demanded' or 'Threatened bodily harm' was probably more appropriate. Naturally Jack agreed readily at the time, partially thanks to the four pints coursing through his system and partially because, at that point, he couldn't refuse Beth anything. However, as he stood there in the cold, going on forty five minutes at this point, he couldn't help but feel apprehensive at this excursion.

It wasn't that he liked being unregistered. Every full moon, especially since Charlie died, Jack was filled with terror that THAT night would be the night he screwed up, left the lock off of the shed door or didn't leave enough raw chicken out, and got loose on an unsuspecting town. Letting the wolf take over and killing another human being was his biggest fear. Hell, he even was scared of harming a stray dog or cat that might pass by. He wanted the comfort of knowing he would be given wolfsbane and locked in a secure room, with no chance of an 'accident'. He wanted to be recognized as being aware of his 'condition' and being in control of it. He wanted to be an upstanding citizen. All he had to do was register with the Werewolf Registry, as simple as that.

But, there was of course a big ol' but, there was the pesky fact that registering meant questions would be asked. Questions he didn't have a reasonable answer to. Like how he came to be a werewolf or why the name Jack Howell didn't exist up until about three years ago. Worse yet, what if they asked him why he hadn't registered right off? Would they arrest him for being loose all these years? He knew that he had always been careful to lock himself away in isolated places and he always checked the local papers for up to a week later for possible 'accidental bear maulings' in the area, but he had a feeling that the WCU couldn't care less about how careful he was. To them, he was a monster no matter what kind of person he was every other night of the month.

To make matters worse, if that was even possible, he would be interviewed by Beth's sister Brynn, who Beth assured him was sweet and understanding. Jack was skeptical though. In his experience, very few people were THAT understanding about his situation. Considering what he had to tell her, he worried about it filtering back to Beth and if there was one thing he absolutely DID NOT WANT was Beth to fear or hate him. The idea that the budding love in his heart could be snatched away so quickly left him feeling physically ill and Jack sunk to the ground, resting his head on his knees despondently as he rubbed the back of his head with both hands. The scars felt rough against his palms, taunting him with the fact that, like it or not, he was not going to be able to avoid the inevitable.

“I'm here, I'm here,”

Jack's head jerked up when Beth's voice broke through his internal dialogue and he stared up at her for a moment. Even though she looked tired and a bit rumpled, he wanted nothing more than to hug her tightly. The irritation on her face promptly deterred him, however, and he worried that she was still mad at him from the night before. He made no comment about it being after nine when she had been the one to set the time and, instead, pulled himself to his feet silently. He took a sidelong, slightly longing, look at her, his expression resembling a puppy that knew it had been the one to piss in dads best dress shoes the day before a funeral but hoped against hope that no one noticed.

"If we're going, we've gotta go. She doesn't know we're coming, like, and if we want to do this we need to get to her before she's too busy. I figured we'd apparate. Are you ready? I'll take you.”

"Ah... right then..." He said quickly, nodding almost too eagerly. The sooner they got there and did this, the sooner he could stop feeling awkward. Or, so he hoped. Then he stood next to her, hand raised but hesitant as he tried to figure out exactly how to touch her. After a few false starts, he finally built up the nerve to reach over and clasp her hand in his much larger one. He barely had a second to ponder at how warm and soft her hand was, or how just touching it sent waves of tingling warmth up his arm, before they apparated with a loud POP

Having never apparated before, Jack's first inclination was to find the nearest bush and decorate it with sick, but he managed to keep it down, determined not to let go of Beth's hand just yet. Realizing that the MoM entrance must be nearby, Jack suddenly tightened his grip on her hand and gave her a pleading look. "Beth... Ah've been thinkin'... Is it really all tha' impor'ant fer me to register? Ah mean... Ah'm dead careful with me transformations n' ah ain't never 'urt anyone before..." He started but quickly trailed off at a look from her. What was he doing? He knew that the only way she would trust him was if he did this and he really wanted her to trust him. Hanging his head, he sighed and loosened, but didn't release, his grip "... Ehm... never mind. Ya right... Ah can't be 'iding forever, yeah? Lead th' way..."

Beth wasn't a master at side along apparition, but she had been apparating without incident for so long that she couldn't imagine anything going wrong, at least abstractly. She was unafraid of the sensation, knew her destination, and had never had a problem with following through. Splinching? Ha! It would never happen to her! Getting around was one thing Bethan never had to worry about, or even think about much. This time, however, she'd run into a snag before she'd even started, and it was enough to give her pause. She held her hand up, but didn't offer it to him. Instead she just looked at it for a moment, and then shifted her eyes and looked at his, an expression of puzzlement coloring her features.

Were they supposed to walk around holding hands like infants? She wasn't opposed to the idea, but it definitely seemed kind of strange, and she was trying to figure out if there was any way to accomplish side along apparition without linking fingers like four year olds. They both seemed to be facing the same conundrum (albeit for different reasons) as they took turns reaching out a hand and then chickening out at the last second and yanking it back, exchanging no words as they silently and awkwardly grappled with the issue. Finally, at long last, the generally more timid Jack had made the first move, enveloping her tiny hand in his large one. Beth had always been small, her growth having been stunted significantly during childhood, but it was never as obvious as it was when her hand seemed to disappear beneath his giant fingers like a child's. She looked away, refusing to acknowledge the contact and, with little to no warning, apparated with a sudden pop.

She assumed that, once they reached the street that would take them to the Ministry's visitor's entrance, the hand holding would stop. She assumed wrong. His grip only grew tighter, and she glanced up at him questioningly, her little fingers wiggling within his death grip. Before she could say anything he was spouting excuses. She did not look amused, no matter how pathetic his puppydog eyes were. “You really want to have this conversation again, mate? Because we can have it, right here, right now. Just let me know if you need me to convince you again,” she threatened, giving him a strong look that suggested that she was perfectly serious about going off on him again if he gave her cause. He knew why he had to register, and he knew that she wasn't leaving until she saw it done. He was stalling. He had to be. Nothing else made sense. Why would he want to be a criminal and risk killing people - or worse? He didn't seem like the type.

“What? You nervous or something, like?” she asked, looking up at him with a slowly forming grin, amused by the prospect of the big bad wolf anxious about meeting Brynn of all people. She was still overly conscious about the feeling of her hand in his, and still wasn't entirely sure she liked it, but if he were nervous, well... it would explain a lot, and maybe she could allow it. “I promise you she's nice. She's nice to everybody. Besides, she won't do anything to you, really, except help you, if you're lucky. You might have a problem if you're scared of paperwork, though,” she snorted as they walked along. For all she was making fun, she really did understand being nervous about something everyone else on the planet claimed wasn't frightening. If this scenario had been reversed and it had been Jack trying to take her to a healer, he'd probably have to carry her in, kicking and screaming, while she swore a blue streak and attempted to run away. She quit wiggling her fingers and let this odd hand holding business happen. “You're gonna like being registered, I swear. They'll take care of everything for you. Come on!” she spoke as she tugged him along down the street, leading him toward his fears.

Jack looked on, crestfallen, as Beth pulled him down the street, rather resembling the aforementioned puppy getting dragged to the vet for a neutering after the aforementioned pissing incident. He knew he shouldn't have tried to make excuses for something like potentially killing and/or maiming innocents. There was no going back from something like that. Now she looked so disgusted with him that he could only follow after her dejectedly, probably more ashamed of himself than she was.

“What? You nervous or something, like?”

"Ehm..." Jack shrugged one shoulder somewhat weakly. What would she say if he told her the truth, that he was bloody terrified? She was already disgusted with him, he didn't want her to think he was a coward on top of it all. He studied her discretely in his peripheral. Her expression and twitching hand both seemed to scream 'I'm uncomfortable' and he realized that if things didn't change for the better and soon, she might never smile at him again. The idea left him feeling incredibly empty inside.

But then the corners of her mouth did something miraculous. They slowly, almost painfully so, curled up at the corners. Oh thank God... She was smiling! Relief overwhelmed him and he almost tripped thanks to his knees suddenly becoming weak. Sure, it was a sarcastic, teasing grin more so than the sweet, forgiving smile he wanted, but at this point, Jack was happy with anything she would give him.

“I promise you she's nice. She's nice to everybody. Besides, she won't do anything to you, really, except help you, if you're lucky. You might have a problem if you're scared of paperwork, though,”

"Eh... No' paperwork... per say..." he mumbled, still unwilling to actually explain why he was so worried about registering. It wasn't just about having to tell a near-perfect stranger about horrifying details of his past. It was about being marked a potential threat to employers and landlords, as well as friends and loved ones. It was about coming to terms with the fact that any semblance of a normal life was now lost to him because, on paper, he would be a verified monster. A real freak of nature. It was about admitting his own weakness.

It was also about his father. Yorick worked for the ministry, though Jack couldn't clearly remember which floor, and there was a good chance that he would recognize Jack when he went there for his monthly "check ups". Considering his promise to his father to not show his face in the wizarding world ever again, Jack had been avoiding the Ministry for that exact reason. What would Yorick do if he knew Jack was still alive? He would most certainly not accept him back with open arms, no matter how hard Jack wished for it. Would he just pretend he didn't exist? Or would he do something worse? Even Jacks trusting nature couldn't shake the cynicism that his father would probably go out of his way to have Jack arrested or even killed just for existing.

“You're gonna like being registered, I swear. They'll take care of everything for you. Come on!”

Beth's words, as much as he was pleased that she wasn't scowling at or threatening him anymore, did little to quell his fears. In fact, they kinda made it worse. After this, would he be able to be by her side anymore? If Yorick found out, there was a good chance that he would have to cut ties with her to keep her safe. Could he do it? He wasn't sure. They hadn't known each other all that long, but Jack could honestly say that his time spent chatting and drinking and tossing that soggy, threadbare tennis ball to Beowulf were possibly the best times of his life. It was selfish but he really didn't want to let them go so easily.

It was a lose-lose situation. Either he didn't go with her, avoiding his father but losing her in the process, or he did go, potentially bringing the wrath of a childish, cruel man down on the unsuspecting Beth and Brynn. Either way, he stood a chance of losing her. As Jack admired the way her golden hair, still slightly damp and sweet with shampoo, bounced on her shoulders as they marched along, he mused inwardly that only one of the options had a definite result. If he went with her now, he would at least get to spend a bit longer by her side, even if it wasn't forever. Though small, a surge of confidence pushed him forward so that he was marching alongside her rather than being pulled by her. Giving her a small but warm smile, he jerked his head towards the uncertain future "Nar then, le's be havin' ya. No mar mankin' abaht.... Ah promise."[1]

1.	As far as I can tell from my research, he basically said "Ok, come along then. No more screwing around, I promise"

In Bethan's mind, the whole registration thing seemed like a no brainer. The Ministry wanted to keep track of the werewolves. Werewolves (for the most part) didn't want to kill or maim anyone, and wanted to go through the transformation in the least painful manner possible. In exchange for registering, the Ministry provided safety for the werewolf and safety for the public. Everything was legal, everyone was safe. In Beth's mind, there could be no other way. She accepted that lycanthrophy wasn't the fault of the werewolf, but she didn't accept messing around once you were infected – once you became a dark creature, you had certain responsibilities. Laws existed for a reason. She was willing to cut Jack some slack, because sometimes she wasn't convinced the bloke had two brain cells to rub together in that big old head of his, but now that she'd so kindly filled him in on the reason he was a threat to society, she wasn't feeling so forgiving. If this whole registration thing wasn't set in motion today, she'd turn him in herself. She'd told him so last night, and alcohol-infused blood stream or not, she'd meant every word.

”Nar then, le's be havin' ya. No mar mankin' abaht.... Ah promise.”

“Whatever you say, mate,” she assured him as she forged ahead toward the telephone box, finally prying her hand from his in order to get inside and take charge of the situation. She wasn't bothered by the close proximity, mainly because she didn't have a choice in the matter, and pushed ahead so she was toward the front, where she could dial them in and get them through to the atrium. Boredly, she tapped her fingers against the warped glass of the ancient telephone box while she informed the disembodied voice that their party consisted of Bethan Ellis and Jack-What-The-Hell's-Your-Last-Name-Again, and that they both had an appointment with Brynn Ellis on level four. This was a lie, but the telephone box seemed to accept it, spitting out two badges before it gave a jerk and began moving like a lift.

 When they were finally let out, the glowing atrium stood before them like a gilded paradise, and it was enough to make the trainer-clad barmaid feel incredibly under dressed. The room was gigantic – the sort of place that made her feel like she shouldn't be allowed in there – at least not without taking her shoes off first and leaving them by the door. It didn't matter that she'd been there before. She felt smaller than usual, and, couldn't help but look toward Jack's face to see how he would react to the whole pretentious scene. If she felt out of place there, she couldn't imagine what good ol' Marble Mouth Jackie was feeling. She laughed as she lead him through the open space, then went to war on his behalf when they had to inform their ornery friend at the security desk that Jack wasn't a wand carrier. Apparently, she managed to come off both obnoxious and endearing enough to get waved through anyway.

“Sorry I called you a hedgewitch back there. I know you're not a witch, like, but I couldn't think of a better word while I was screaming, and I was just trying to prove a point to that security git,” she explained as they approached the lifts, shaking her head exasperatedly. “Right, anyway, we'll need to go to level four. I reckon any of these lifts should take us,” she explained as they waited. It was no time at all before a lift arrived and, after a jarring ride, spit them out at their destination.

“Alright," she spoke as they stepped out onto the floor, " If you're still nervous, then stop being nervous. That's my advice,” she informed him bluntly as she lead the way, marching through the floor with purpose. They were heralded in by what sounded like a cat yowling pitifully from some distant corner, a group of people laughing behind a closed door, and what may or may not have been a talking bird jabbering non-stop, as though it had been hexed. “You could get a job up here, I bet,” Beth informed him as they breezed through the office, “Registering krups and that? I don't know. Maybe not. But it's something to think about, yeah?”

Jack had the habit of comparing people to animals. It helped him cope with his abysmal social skills by putting personalities into simpler terms. Not an exact science, but it kept him alive. Jack himself was a dog, probably a mutt like Beowulf, who was loyal, protective and a bit dumb, especially when praise or food was involved. His sister Sam was a cat, self-reliant, confident and more than a bit sly and selfish. As for Beth, he pegged her as a hamster. Cute, small and a bit chubby, but also territorial, aloof and quick tempered. She didn't seem to like being touched, which she made very clear by yanking her hand from his the moment she had an adequate excuse, and he wondered what happened to make her so afraid. He wanted to ask, but if her actions were any indication, she wasn't keen on letting him into her personal space quite yet, let alone her painful past. As socially dumb as he was, Jack could sense her discomfort and pulled back.

He was honest to a fault and hated having to hide his feelings, but he valued her too much to pressure her into something that made her uncomfortable. Instead, he did his best to enjoy the brief closeness between them as they were sandwiched into the phone booth. Though he wasn't sniffing her or anything creepy like that, Jack couldn't help but notice her scent. It was simple and clean, like fresh linens, without pretense or superficiality. Much like Beth herself. Closing his eyes, he let the warmth of her body and her scent envelope him as the lift descended.

This sense of comfort was short lived, however. The moment the lift opened to the atrium and  they stepped into its gilt and marble laden glory, Jack shut himself off. Pulling up his hood, he tried to sink into the familiar recesses of his hoodie as Beth took control. As she argued and lied their way through security, Jack spoke only when needed and spent the rest of the time glancing around furtively at his extravagant surroundings. His father was in this building, somewhere, probably in an office filled with expensive antiques and cigars that cost more then Jacks rent that he left just smoldering away in ashtrays. It had been like that at home as well. To this day, Jack couldn't stand the smell of them.

He kept sniffing the air discretely, trying to find his fathers all too familiar scent of cigars and cologne he couldn't afford. He couldn't find it amongst the crowd, but that didn't mean he could rest easy. The room was simply too thick with the smells of humans for his nose, werewolf senses aside, to discern one particular smell.

With the pressing fear of his father stumbling upon him, Jack kept his shoulders hunched and his head down, following Beth by staring at her heels. She was talking to him, something about calling him a hedgewitch (He hadn't even noticed that she did, to be honest) but Jack wasn't really listening. He just nodded and grunted at what seemed like the proper times while concentrating on keeping his feet moving forward without calling attention to himself. This time when they got into a lift, Jack didn't even notice their closeness, let alone enjoy it. He simply let the lift jostle them around as it descended, his arms crossed and his eyes locked on Beth's hair. The golden color looked warm and soft, and Jack derived a tiny bit of comfort from looking at it. If he could touch it and run his fingers through it, he would be happier, but he had a feeling that Beth would punch him if he did. So, he just looked.

“Alright, If you're still nervous, then stop being nervous. That's my advice,”

"Ehm... right." He quipped, his tone bordering on, but not quite, sarcastic. She had no idea how impossible of a task she was asking of him. It wasn't just about being where his father might find him, or about having to tell someone he didn't know about his most horrifying memories, but also about admitting to being a freak and having it put on paper. It made the whole thing seem even more devastatingly real. He would never be able to live a normal life, or rather, pretend to live a normal life again. Furthermore, what if they pinned crimes he didn't commit on him, merely for being what he was? He had seen it done before and he didn't want what little of a life he had stolen from him because of prejudice.

He honestly didn't think Beth understood. She was a "black and white" sort of person, which meant that she saw werewolves being registered like dogs as being a fair and proper way to maintain the curse. But what about those innocent people that had the curse forced on them? Why didn't anyone care about how they felt being treated like animals? Asking her that would just look like he was making excuses, so he kept quiet. This was how the world was and if he was going to live in it, then he had to play by their rules, fair or not.

“You could get a job up here, I bet, Registering krups and that? I don't know. Maybe not. But it's something to think about, yeah?”

"Ah... mebbe. Ah ain't got tha education or owt for it, tho..." He said nonchalantly, as though that was really his reason. Truth was, after he was registered, he had no intention of ever stepping foot in this horrid place again, even if she asked him. They came to a halt in front of a small office with Brynn Ellis on the name plate. Staring at it, he took a deep breath and turned to her. "Ehm... After this is done n'all, ya think we could, mebbe, get a pint or summat? Ah think ah'm gonna need one, t'be 'onest."

Beth was just making conversation when she suggested Jack might get a job at the ministry. She always felt better when her mouth was moving, and she really didn't know the first thing about helping nervous people relax, so she stuck to what she did best in the hope that it might distract them both. It seemed to, for a while. They managed to make it to the part of the floor where they kept Brynn and all of her perky little counselor friends in their cubicle boxes. That was life on the Creatures floor, Beth supposed – they gave the animals more room to run around than the people they paid to take care of them. Aiming a pointed and confident smile toward the receptionist, Beth breezed right past the desk and approached Brynn's cubicle without an ounce of hesitation. Nobody questioned her. Now that was how you got things done! She'd already met her 'arguing with people seated behind desks' quota for the day and didn't think it wise to try anything while on her sister's turf, so she was glad she didn't have to.

”Ehm... After this is done n'all, ya think we could, mebbe, get a pint or summat? Ah think ah'm gonna need one, t'be 'onest.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright. We'll head to the Broomsticks before my shift and celebrate,” she told him quite flippantly. She was ready to get this over with and didn't want to waste any more time. “Now wait here, will you?” With that she proceeded to try and figure out the best way to ambush her sister. She began by walking past the open entrance to the cubicle very quickly, just to peek her head inside and make sure she was in there. The second time she walked by much slower, to make sure she wasn't with a client already, or doing anything that looked important. The coast seemed clear. Beth tilted her head toward a chair in a small but unpretentious waiting area within her line of sight. Then she let herself right in.

There was clearly a silencing charm over the cubicle, because as soon as Beth disappeared through the door it was as if she'd disappeared entirely, though Jack didn't miss much. He missed a reunion and an embrace. He missed a worried older sister questioning a plucky younger sister about what she was doing in her office at this hour. He missed the older sister asking again, just to make sure. Then he missed the younger sister telling the older sister she needed a favor, and the older sister looking skeptical but sympathetic. He missed the older sister frustratingly informing the younger sister that she'd gone through the wrong channels, that this was completely illegal, and imploring her to give her a moment to think. He missed the younger sister ranting, the older sister acquiescing, and both sisters staring at one another in a way that only sisters could – with a mix of both love and hatred so genuine that it couldn't be fabricated. The younger sister emerged first, a goofy, semi-frustrated look on her face, complete with epic eye roll and a nose wrinkle. The older sister followed the younger, looking far more composed.

“Yeah, mate, she wants to talk to you,” Beth explained, sinking into a chair in the tiny waiting area. “It'll be fine. Just play dumb like you always do,” she suggested, unable to hold back her snort. Meanwhile, Brynn stood by the door to her cubicle, smiling and looking as friendly as someone who'd just been thoroughly put out could look. “Go on,” Beth urged, trying to sound encouraging. “She didn't hurt me, and she's allowed to, like. She's sure as anything not going to hurt you.” 

“Yeah, yeah, alright. We'll head to the Broomsticks before my shift and celebrate, Now wait here, will you?”

"Yes'm" Jack beamed for a moment and then quickly regained his composure with a cough, hiding the grin with a duck of his head. He didn't want to know how happy her somewhat reluctant aquiesence meant to him. Sure it came across as offhanded and a bit flippant (Okay, blatantly flippant), but to Jack, a yes was a yes, regardless of how it sounded. The butterflies in his stomach danced with joy as he watched her head into the cubicle to speak with her sister. However, the moment she faded from view, sound ceased and Jack found himself suddenly alone.

Without her there to distract him, Jack once again started to notice the little things that bothered him before. The inquisitiveness of the eyes peeking out of cubicles, sizing him up and judging him. The stifling closeness of the walls. The werewolf 'information' (read: Warnings) posters lining said walls. Grimacing, he tugged his hoodie even lower over his eyes and crossed his arms, trying desperately to make himself small and insignificant. It normally wasn't a difficult feat.

The silence in the room was surreal and deafening. Desperate to tune it out, he pressed his ears into his hands and hummed a discordant tune. This seemed to go on for a while when the familiar scent of fresh laundry and bar soap reappeared, followed by something a bit more delicate. Jack looked up and saw that Beth had returned, followed by a downtrodden woman who looked like Beth if she were taller and a few years older. Her smile didn't fully reach her eyes and while Jack sensed that she didn't hate or fear him, she certainly wasn't all that pleased to see him. He wondered what they talked about in there to give her such an expression. Had he done something wrong?

"...and she's allowed to, like. She's sure as anything not going to hurt you.”

Beth's voice came into focus and he realized she had been talking to him since she reentered the room. He had only caught the tail end of what she said but it was clear, even to him, that the taller blond was the sister in question. Standing quickly, Jack wiped his sweaty palms on his sweatshirt and offered her his hand "Me name's Jack, ma'am... Ah'm chuffed t'meet ya..." Glancing back at Beth, he hurriedly added "Beth 'as tol' us... ehm... brilliant things abou'ya. Not bad or nowt..." He felt like the floor was sinking out from under him, so he found himself babbling as he kept shaking her hand past the customary two shakes "...Dead fine weather out there, innit?" He motioned towards where he assumed a window would be, only to see there wasn't one. This ship was sinking fast and Jack was going down with it.

Brynn was not feeling cross with Jack. She wasn't even cross with Beth. She was merely overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of information her younger sister had just thrown at her. Beth was not known for being stingy with words, or particularly sensitive, and she'd basically drowned her in explanations that may or may not have been accurate. She was fairly decent at reading through her sister's bravado and sarcasm by now, but it was still sometimes hard to tell when she was exaggerating, or just trying to get a rise out of someone. If any of what she'd told her was true then she'd just put Brynn, who was a mandated reporter of lycanthropy-related criminal infractions, into a very tight spot.

Not being registered was a crime, but Bethan seemed to suggest that her friend had little to no magical knowledge or education (“He's got no wand, and he can't even apparate or nothing,” she'd said, “Didn't go to Hogwarts or anything, but he's English alright.”) and that he might not have known how to go about registering at all. Brynn was not in the business of punishing ignorance. She was in the business of teaching, and helping, and keeping people safe and happy. She was also in the business of doing things under the table if it meant accomplishing her own personal goals. If this Jack fellow wasn't on the WCU's radar, then there was a chance she could get away with registering him as a newly cursed werewolf. She'd have to hear his story first but, because she was Brynn, she was already hard at work thinking up ways she could cover both of their butts.

So she smiled at the fellow she had to imagine was Beth's friend Jack, because Brynn always smiled, even when she was about to break the law. The world seemed to write happy people off, either because they didn't believe friendliness was genuine or because they imagined that having social skills and caring for others made a person vapid. Sometimes it was exhausting, always being Reliably Perky Brynn, but it came in handy enough to be worth it. Besides, there was seldom a day she regretted being nice. She had trouble understanding people who went out of their way to act otherwise. She just didn't see the point.

”Me name's Jack, ma'am... Ah'm chuffed t'meet ya...”

“It's wonderful to meet you, Jack,” she said, shaking his hand. He was a young kid, around Beth's age. She couldn't imagine where she'd met him. Beth had a thing about strays, Brynn knew – if anyone could find an unregistered werewolf ignorantly wandering around and then insist on keeping him, it was her sister. “My name is Brynn Ellis. I'm a case worker for the registry, and I think you already know I'm Bethan's sister,” she smiled, giving her sister a quick look. Beth, however, was oblivious.

”Beth 'as tol' us... ehm... brilliant things abou'ya. Not bad or nowt... Dead fine weather out there, innit?”

The boy was nervous. Even a blind person would have been able to tell. Brynn cupped her free hand over the outside of the one he was using to shake, wordlessly encouraging him to stop without calling him out for his nerves and embarrassing him. “It's a bit cold for me, but we all have our preferences," she smiled, the smile lines near her eyes growing deeper. "Would you mind stepping into my office so we can chat a bit? You'll have your privacy and we can look into some paperwork for you. Come,” she urged, dropping his hand and leading him into the cubicle, where there was a pair of chairs set up in front of her desk, where he was encouraged to sit. Beth was stuck in the waiting area, where she'd have the choice to either read a pamphlet about wolfsbane dispensaries or take a nap.

The cubicle was a bit confined, but not unfriendly. There was a picture calendar on the wall behind here where a tiger striped cat paced in and out of frame, and she already had a basket of bombay mix set out for snacking. “I know it's early, but you can help yourself,” she told him, settling down behind the desk. She turned to the filing cabinet next to her, which was crammed with so much paperwork that it needed to be specially charmed to make sure it would all fit. She opened the middle draw, muttered an incantation, and the forms she needed shuffled their way to the front, where she plucked them out and set them before her. It was a fairly thick stack – one she'd seen so many times before and, unfortunately, would probably see many more times in her life.

“Now, Jack,” she said, smiling at him, trying to put him at ease and not wanting to force someone so nervous to sit in silence. She left the paperwork on her desk, but didn't touch it, or even reference it. That was for later, if they got that far. “I'd like to help you. Beth has told me a little bit about your situation, but if you don't mind, I'd like to hear from you. Do you mind telling me about yourself, and maybe something about your situation?” There was no quill in her hand. There wasn't even a quill on the desk. She wouldn't be taking notes or criticizing, just listening, as she'd done so many times before. She looked to him encouragingly, giving him the floor.   

“It's a bit cold for me, but we all have our preferences, Would you mind stepping into my office so we can chat a bit? You'll have your privacy and we can look into some paperwork for you. Come,”

The ship was slowly bobbing back to the surface under her gentle gaze. As she said this, Jack's broad palm locked in her slender ones and her smile lines deepening, he felt himself becoming more at ease. He could see why Beth loved her elder sister so much. If he weren't already enamored with the younger Ellis, he might have found himself falling in love with her as well. Since he was, however, he merely found the urge to call her "Big sis" and hug her close for the warmth and comfort he bet her bosom provided. Naturally, he kept himself from doing so. He didn't want to ruin the moment.

Giving Beth a small, thankful smile, Jack followed Brynn into the small but surprisingly cozy (At least, compared to the hallway) office. When she offered him some sort of trail mix, he took a few out of politeness and munched on them as he stared around the room. The irony of the cat calendar on the wall didn't escape him and he chuckled to himself. It must be pacing out of nervousness, considering all of the 'visitors' to this office were wolves. The corner of his mouth twitched with a grin at the thought. Then he realized she was asking him something.

"...Do you mind telling me about yourself, and maybe something about your situation?”

Oooh. Yeeeah. He had forgotten this part. The questions. The very reason he was struggling not to go in the first place. How did you truthfully answer something that put your family in danger? It didn't matter that he hated his father and could have cared less what happened to the man, but his mother and sister didn't deserve to be hurt. He was rubbish at lying though and, as bright and bubbly of a blond as she seemed, he had the impression that Brynn was a keen enough observer to catch a lie when she heard one. He'd have to tell the truth but leave out as much about his family as possible.

"Ehm... Well..." He stammered, paused and then coughed a little before continuing on with his life's story, every garbled and mistreated word of it. When he was little, his magic was slower to rise than others, so his father kept him out of school as to avoid unneeded embarrassment. Then when he was 13, his father borrowed money from a man who came to claim Jack's sister in return. Desperate to protect their daughter, they begged Jack to go instead. Jack didn't want his little sister to die, so he gladly went to face the man. Unfortunately, he walked into a werewolves path and was attacked. Had his mother not given him a knife to defend himself with, he might have died. Somehow he managed to fight the werewolf off and stumble home. His family was frightened of course. Not only did he escape the man but he also incurred the werewolves wrath. The house would be the next target! So, Jacks father took him to the hospital and left him in their care, making him promise to start a new life under a new name. That was why, he explained, that his name isn't on any birth lists. After he was released from the hospital, with a new name, he lived the last couple of years with an old friend. When he passed on, Jack decided it was high time that he make his way back to the wizarding world. And here he was now. End of story.

The story was a sad one but still far rosier than the actual truth. He didn't know or tell her that the man and the werewolf were one in the same and that the intention all along was for him to be killed. The gift of a silver-coated blade was proof enough of this. Nor did he divulge that his father didn't 'leave him in the hospitals care to start a new life'  as much as he 'dumped him, bloody and nearly dead, in front of a hospital and threatened him if he ever spoke his real name again'. He wanted to, but feared that she might try to bring his father to justice if he did, and where would his mother and Sam be then? It was better that he be punished then them. He also avoided telling her how Charlie passed away. Despite it being an accident, Jack still felt responsible and he had a feeling that adding any sort of 'crime', however accidental, would only hurt his case. After all, Beth made it clear he was a criminal just for not having done this sooner.

"An' tha's bout it. Summat ova barmy tale, innit?" He gave her a rueful smile and lowered his head, his hands curling around it so his fingers could find the scars on the back. It was both a depressing and reassuring reminder of all he had lived through. Now, if only she'd believe him so he could get on with this new 'life'.

Brynn listened close to his story. She nodded occasionally, but kept herself from exclaiming or making any sudden facial expressions that someone self-conscious about their history might construe as judgmental. That meant that her expression was more or less neutral for the duration of the story, though there were times when she really just wanted to reach out and hug him. She was very pleased with what she was hearing – not the story itself, which was as sad and strange as anything she heard in this line of work, but the amount of detail he was revealing without prompting. She'd only asked him to tell her a little bit about himself and instead she was getting everything but the kitchen sink! He was incredibly forthcoming, which said to her, quite clearly, that he didn't have any idea how much trouble he might be in. When he got to the end of his story, however, Brynn had taken in enough details to surmise that there was the slightest possibility that had broken far more laws than he realized – there was the barest chance that she would be unable to fix this for him.

”An' tha's bout it. Summat ova barmy tale, innit?” 

“It's true you were taken to hospital after the attack?” Brynn asked eagerly, not leaving much time for the story to breathe. She wanted to find out whether the worst case scenario was true before she gave him false hope. “Is it possible that you were registered under a different name? The Capture Unit may have become involved when you didn't show up for full moons, but if you're wandless and living with muggles, it's possible they couldn't trace you,” she provided. Stranger things had definitely happened. It didn't occur to her that the hospital he'd been taken to may have been a muggle one. Traditionally, the sort of injuries sustained during werewolf attacks weren't easily treated using muggle means. If he had been to St. Mungo's with werewolf bites then the chances of him never having been registered were very, very slim. If he was registered and had refused to follow ministry protocol then he could be in even bigger trouble than he was already. She could fabricate paperwork, but she couldn't change what was already there. She was hoping for the best but, after working for the registry for as long as she had, she was prepared for the worst.

“It's true you were taken to hospital after the attack? Is it possible that you were registered under a different name? The Capture Unit may have become involved when you didn't show up for full moons, but if you're wandless and living with muggles, it's possible they couldn't trace you,”

"Ehm... no ma'am..."  Jack said slowly with a shake of his head, his thick brows furrowed in confusion. "Ah tol' them me name was Jack 'owell an' tha's what they put down." It didn't dawn on him that she thought his father left him at a wizarding hospital instead of a muggle one. He just assumed she knew, so he was truly confused to why she kept talking like the ministry KNEW he was a werewolf. As far as he knew, his father did everything in his power to make sure that no one knew, let alone could trace Jack back to the family.  "See, me da made me swear t'ne'er say me real name, an' a man keeps 'is promises, yeah? Also tol' them it was a dog attack an' they seemed t'believe tha too." he concluded, as though this would somehow clear up the confusion.

"Ah 'onestly don't know why this capture unit ne'er found me..." He murmured after a few minutes of awkward silence, scratching absentmindedly behind his ear out of habit. Despite her smiling face and friendly demeanor, both of which seemed legit but a bit strained, Jack just couldn't feel comfortable talking about himself in such a place. It wasn't just the whole 'register and tell the world your secret or you are a criminal we will hunt down' vibe or the fact that this was the closest he had been to his father in several years that made Jack nervous. It was the fact that Brynn was Beths sister. He wanted her to like him and trust him, but telling her the truth would probably ruin that. It was rather discouraging to be honest.

Then his expression twitched into something brighter as he thought of something, adding quickly, "Though ah was dead clever with me transformations. Ah had a few ol' shacks ah could 'ide in and always tossed about raw chicken t'keep me focus. Ah ain't ne'er 'urt a single livin' thing, ah swear."  His troubled expression gave way to one of childlike pride, as though he were a kid again, presenting the girl he liked with a prized frog he had found in a misguided attempt to secure her affections. Somehow he hoped that this would make him look less like a criminal in her eyes, and hopefully, in Beths.

There wasn't a healer alive who could look at a werewolf bite and believe that it was a dog bite. Great Britain had much higher standards for its healers than that, and she'd been personally told probably a dozen times that every St. Mungo's trainee is specifically trained to recognize a werewolf bite before they are allowed to progress. She'd seen the medical texts herself and they included photographs, diagrams, and lists upon lists of special healing considerations. If a healer, especially one trained specifically in magical bites, had looked at his injuries and believed they were caused by a dog, then that healer needed to be fired. It was more likely that they'd feigned belief so that they could detain him. But then what happened next? She wanted to believe that this boy was telling her the truth, but if he wasn't, he wouldn't be the first person to step into her office and lie to her face. She didn't help liars – not because she didn't want to, but because she couldn't.

He looked awfully shifty for someone who had seemed so forthcoming a moment before. Brynn hated jumping to negative conclusions, but the shiftiness, combined with a story that didn't entirely add up, meant that she was feeling a touch doubtful about the whole tale. Her face never gave this away. She had long ago honed the ability to maintain a decent poker face when necessary – something her quick to anger younger sister hadn't ever come close to mastering – and wore a mask of pleasant neutrality. She smiled a tiny smile as he told his little story about how he'd managed to stay restrained during his transformations alone. He seemed so earnest that she was questioning her own doubt. Either he was an excellent liar or she was missing something.

“Will you excuse me for a moment, love?” she asked him, that gentle smile still on her lips as she rose to her feet.  “I'm going to go see what we have on file. I'll only be a moment,” she told him, slipping out of the cubicle and walking straight past her sister without even looking at her. She had to know if there were any files on this fellow – or, more importantly, if he was wanted. Even her bottomless filing cabinet didn't contain all of the files on every werewolf ever registered, so she had to go to the master files for that. She looked up Jack Howell. John Howell. Jonathan Howell. There was nothing even remotely similar on file, let alone with a big red 'Wanted' charmed on top! She returned to her cubicle, feeling perplexed. What was she missing?

“I wasn't able to turn anything up. Can you remind me, how long ago did you say you were bitten? And do you happen to recall the name of the healer in charge who treated you?” she asked him. She was likely going to have to petition Mungo's for records, which meant filling out her own hefty stack of paperwork. It could take a while to process, and even then she might not find anything helpful. This little drop in visit was turning into an ordeal!

“I wasn't able to turn anything up. Can you remind me, how long ago did you say you were bitten? And do you happen to recall the name of the healer in charge who treated you?”

"Well Ehm..." Jack frowned, scratching the back of his head as he glanced off into the distance. His memory of that time was fuzzy at best and completely missing at worse. He recalled bright lights, the touch of cold hands in plastic gloves and lots and lots of pain, but he doubted telling her any of that would help much. "It was about 5 or 6 years back, ah think..." He continued with a nod after counting on his fingers. Not going to school or having a steady job made remembering the passage of time pretty difficult.

At this point he paused for a moment, eyes distant and brows furrowed, as he tried to come up with something legitimately useful. The question of the healers name was a difficult one, but he really wanted to give her something... anything... that would help move this whole process along. The problem was, he had seen a lot of doctors and not a single one really stuck out in his mind.

Sighing, he massaged the bridge of his nose, muttering "Ah'll be 'onest... Ah don't remember 'is name. Or their names, rather... Ah saw a lot o' doctors... Ah don' think they knew wha' they were dealin' with..." His head fell into his hands as he added softly "Ah'm jes glad tha' ah lef' before th' next full moon... Would 'ave been bad. Really bad..." Honestly, he didn't even want to think of the damage he could have done or the lives he would have ended.

(Sorry so short. Bit rusty...)