[ Stephen may not be Daryl's favourite person at the moment, but he isn't about to shirk his volunteer work with Phil because of it. Just gives him the opportunity to glower at the sorcerer some more, anyway.
The reply letter is a little delayed — due to reasons explained in it. Daryl's been doing what cats do best. ]
Phil-
Hey. Sorry I haven't been by. Been recuperating. That means sleeping a lot.
Yeah we're still on. Even if Dr. Self Righteous is there.
[ It's kind of funny Phil knew exactly whom he was referring to with that moniker. The offer comes as a surprise, even if it probably shouldn't considering Phil's first letter; Daryl just doesn't take Phil and Jeremy's hospitality for granted. ]
Phil-
Sure. Give me a few.
x Daryl
[ Because he's in definite need of some grooming, he feels, before he presents himself to these two people in particular. He actually cares about their opinions of him. ]
After dragging himself from his cat-nest of pillows, showering, and scrounging up some rumpled but at least clean clothing, Daryl begins trudging his way over to the Phone Tap, finger-combing his still damp bedhead as he walks.
The offer of food he doesn't have to catch or prepare himself is highly appealing at the moment. Though the empathic transference of Stephen's stab wound to himself hadn't taken him long at all to heal, it came at the expense of his energy; maybe a little more than he'd expected, honestly. He's felt so tired. But that only further convinces him it was absolutely the best course of action he could've taken — a wound that severe on a human could've spelled real trouble if he hadn't acted when he did.
And all Daryl had received for his help was a lambasting, with Stephen snarling about never doing that again (despite agreeing to being healed in the first place), how it wasn't Daryl's to suffer, whatever that means. The stabby ghost kid's mother interrupted before Stephen could explain exactly why his magical underwear was in such a twist, leaving Daryl to speculate on the reasons.
"And what, you're going to try to tell me it didn't hurt? That you didn't just take on exactly what I'd gone through? I've seen Bertie do exactly what you just did and I know what it did to him!"
He's momentarily pulled from his thoughts by the cheerful looking flower gardens in someone's yard. Realising it'll probably reflect better on him if he doesn't show up empty-handed, he collects a small, pretty bouquet of flowers, figuring there's so many that surely the resident won't even notice these few missing. He conjures a simple ribbon to tie them all together, and by that point he's standing outside the Phone Tap.
Knocking a few times to announce his presence, he lets himself in while attempting to rub the last traces of sleep from his eyes with his free hand.
Phil had just poured out some soup and made Daryl a salmon sandwich for his troubles when he heard the knock on the door. He made his way past the few tables and open the door for a very exhausted guest.
“Hey, you look...tired. Very tired, come right in!” Phone Guy greeted before he noticed the flowers, “Oh! Daryl, these are lovely! Who are these for?” He was caught off guard with this offering, trying to figure out what they meant. Were they for him? For Jeremy? For both of them? A part of Phil, the Erosian in him, was intrigued by that last option but he quietly filed that aside to more pressing matters.
“Sit down, it’s a salmon bake sandwich with some chicken noodle soup. Not Chica mind you, that good hen’s an egg layer.”
"For you guys," Daryl mumbles as he steps inside the bakery, and he's a bit caught off guard himself by the question. "I thought—. Uh, I thought they'd look nice here. If you want 'em."
And it's not a coincidence that most the flowers double as ingredients for various potions and enchantments. He has a penchant for functional gifts over purely aesthetic ones, and in this case it's a nice blending of both. A spur of the moment gift, but still meaningful.
It had just seemed like a nice gesture when he'd thought of it, and it's probably the least he can do, really, in return for the food. The food which he can already smell, and he lifts his chin to scent the air appreciatively, forgetting for the moment that he isn't in his cat form and should be making more of an effort to act like a person. He's maybe still a bit groggy. The mention of Chica sparks some amusement; it's still a ridiculous name, but somehow fitting for the headstrong hen.
"Smells good," he remarks as he takes a seat. "How've you both been?" Unsure what to do with the bouquet, he'll hold it until Phil takes it or tells him where to put it. Assuming the werewolf wants to accept the gift, of course.
“I do, they’re lovely,” Phil stated with his smile, beaming and welcoming for a friend. He didn’t miss the fact that these were herbs and ingredients for future magic endeavors. Maybe Daryl was picking up on the Erosian magic lessons he’d given a while back. It’s certainly nice to have an apprentice appreciate the knowledge rather than tear it down. He puts the flowers in a vase full of water before leading Dixon towards the table where his food sat.
“We’ve been pretty good, though we’ve made a resolution to get Alby trotting more. We kinda over-spoiled him...he’s a bit rounder than how he was,” Phil admitted rather sheepishly. “Finny’s been bringing his friends over to play, I think Jeremy named his favorite Bailey. What about you? What did Stephen do?”
That last part is mentioned with an exasperated tone, as if it wasn’t the first time the sorcerer did something stupid.
Daryl has, indeed, been paying attention to Phil's particular brand of magic each time he visits, even if practising it himself remains a bit difficult. He isn't exactly on hugging or kissing much less boning terms with anyone in the Meadous — his aversion to most physical contact doesn't help matters. The affectionate headbump he'd shared with Phil in the Timeless world presumably doesn't count as 'intimate contact', either, alas.
"Hey, Alby's in shape. Round's a shape," he comments with a slight smile, but it's short lived as the topic all too quickly turns to Stephen. But his expression isn't angry, rather it's closer to weary confusion at this point. It's only because he actually considers the arrogant sorcerer a friend that Stephen's inexplicable rage has gotten to him. If he presently had cat ears or whiskers, they'd be drooping here.
"You see his thing on the bulletin board about fighting someone in the Mirror Dimension, and for everyone to stay out? Couldn'ta been more obvious he wanted an audience." At least his appetite isn't suffering, and he begins digging into the food as he explains the situation.
"Seems to have beef with that pasty-white ghost kid with the weird eyes. That's who he fought. Few of us showed up to watch." And he doesn't sound the least bit ashamed about it. Not like he'd known beforehand Stephen was picking fights with a kid. "Lot of posturing, taunting, dodging, ghost kid managed to stab him pretty deep. Then Strange opened two portals and pitched the kid into 'em so he'd perpetually fall. That part was kinda funny," he admits. And maybe cheap, but who's he to judge? He'd have probably helped Stephen cheat if he'd been asked to. All in good fun.
Phil couldn’t help the chuckle at Daryl’s comment, “Yes well, Alby should be noodle shaped, like all the other foxes.”
As Dixon explained what started the mess, he rolls his eyes. “That kid’s trouble, got a temper that makes anyone look like a saint. He tossed my table over and scared Finny over a misunderstanding. But Stephen? Stephen’s an adult, a surgeon. And apparently a very accomplished sorcerer...with an ego made of porcelain.” Why yes, he’s going to chop some vegetables into a fine mince, because that’s what adults do, right?
“I can imagine him eating his own words was worth it, so what made him angry at you? You’re a good cat guy, never seen you actually hurt someone’s feelings. I don’t think you actually capable of it.”
Daryl can hardly disagree with either assessment. Zan is pretty obviously trouble and not blame-free just because he has the appearance of a kid, and may or may not actually be one. And Stephen probably did think he was helping or giving the kid what he thought he wanted, in some misguided way. No surprise the whole thing turned into such a clusterfuck.
"Well the kid's mom stopped the fight, and that was that." It may be different in human society, but in the animal kingdom and supernatural societies, fucking with protective parents is invariably a bad idea. So of course Daryl took it as incentive to leave as soon as possible.
"Strange was already lookin' pale and like he might drop any minute. I offered to heal him, he agreed. So I did it the fastest way I know how. Empathic transference," Daryl continues without looking up from his food, absently pushing the contents of the soup around with the spoon.
"Took the wound on myself. It'd already healed over by the time he lost his mind, yelling 'bout how it ain't mine to suffer and to never do that again. And... some other stuff... Maybe he was just mad he didn't get to dramatically pass out in a healer's arms like a martyr. Anyway. S'why I've been sleeping. Guess the wound was worse than I first thought."
And the food's helping a bit. He's also seriously considering finally asking for some of the happiness-spelled desserts Phil's famous for, he just doesn't want to have to explain why he's seeking the magical equivalent of antidepressants. It's nothing to do with the Stephen problem, and unfortunately isn't as easily solved.
Phil doesn't miss how reluctant Daryl was to talking about what happened. He did what he thought was the right thing to do and got scolded for it. And that wasn't kosher on Strange's side. But for now, he had more pertinent matters than chewing Stephen out like a bad pig ear. Daryl was struggling to connect with people, and the incident made him recede further. It wasn't just the wound, was it? It was the yelling, the anger, it probably didn't do wonders for his healing.
In a rare gesture, mostly reserved for Jeremy and those who he trusted in Eros, Phil gently lifted Dixon's chin so they could meet eye to eye. Brown eyes full of care and compassion met the werecat's and a soothing voice took center stage.
"Would you like me to help you with my magic?" he asked, giving Daryl the choice to seek some temporary aid. "I can whip you something to ease your body and mind. You know that."
He offered the spell with the same confidence in his skills as the other magic users had. He'd done this sort of spell a few times, especially when Jeremy's mental and physical condition.
There's no hiding the slight flinch the contact causes, but with effort Daryl doesn't lean away or hunch defensively like he instinctively wants to. The whole thing's embarrassing. Not only that he's still so unaccustomed to gentle physical contact like that, but that he couldn't control his reactions better. And he feels bad, worried that Phil might take it personally when it's anything but.
"Nah. Don't waste your energy or supplies." The on me goes unspoken but it's still implied in his tone. It's partly why he's had such difficulty even asking for a happiness-spelled cake — he feels it'd be wasted on him. Better it go to someone who needs it more, just like the magic Phil's presently offering. Hell, he's sure Jeremy needs it more than he does, and considering how the Eros magic is fuelled, the ex-soldier should be the one to enjoy the fruits of his labour, as it were.
...And that certainly isn't something Daryl should be thinking about.
"Ain't something I should cut corners with," he adds, hoping to soften what might seem like a rejection to Phil. "Better to sleep it off like I've been doing. And I guess I just gotta ask the sorcerer ass supreme what he meant, 'cause he never bothered explaining after the kid's mom interrupted our conversation. That's when I left."
Contrary to what Stephen would later tell Phil. Daryl quite honestly genuinely doesn't know why his healing caused such a ridiculous overreaction, nor does he know Bertie well enough to go asking him what Stephen meant, unfortunately. That only leaves Stephen himself as the person to ask. Ugh.
Phil doesn't mind the flinch, and he takes it all in stride as he still keeps Daryl as comfortable as possible. He maintains that soothing voice as he responds,
"I have plenty in stock, it wouldn't be a waste. I wouldn't want them to spoil either." He tries to have Dixon accept it from the very nature of a cupcake not consumed by those who should enjoy such a treat. He only breaks the contact to fetch both the treat and a small clear vial full of the same healing potion he showed the werecat a while back. "You shouldn't face these things all on your own, we're here to help, you know? Me and Jeremy, our door is always open for you."
And he really does mean that, that they're there for him, "Consider it a get well soon gift. From us."
Normally Daryl would get surly when someone overrides his explicitly stated wishes like that, but this situation is... unique. Phil's actions come from a place of care, and he understands that even if it's difficult to accept anyone caring about him. He falls silent as he stares at the offered dessert and healing potion for a very long moment, before raising his uncertain, questioning gaze to Phil's face.
How could he possibly turn his friend down again?
He doesn't. Instead he's tentatively reaching for one of Phil's hands, for no reason other than to hold it between his own, if he's permitted to. There's no flinching this time. It's different when he's the one initiating the physical contact — when he has at least some 'control' over what happens.
He finds it's easier to accept help than to ask for it. Maybe Phil guessed that about him.
"Thank you," he quietly replies, "both of you. Goes both ways. If either of you need help, I hope you'll let me." Let him because he knows Phil and Jeremy both can have trouble accepting help, too, for their own reasons. But if they're going to try and take care of him, they'd better be ready for the same treatment; Daryl doesn't take such gestures of kindness lightly. And this is how you get yourself a cat guardian.
Daryl was somewhat cut from the same cloth as Jeremy: self-deprecating and unwilling to ask for help. Both of them believed that they were burdens rather that people with valid needs and wants. And Phil was someone who knew how to approach them: with kindness and patience. He understood that thei respective pains came from deep wounds that were stubborn to tend to, let alone heal.
“I’ll keep it in mind, Mr. Dixon,” Gray accepted the help with a tad formal tone offset with a wink. He also knows that he’s a lot to take in on one sitting. As much as Phil tried to be more grounded, his bubbly fanboy nature tended to get the better of him. He could be overwhelming just to have around but he couldn’t stop looking at the bright side of the world. “I’m pretty sure I’m gonna mess up sooner or later.” Cat guardians would be handy when the wolf is a massive klutz.
[The letter is barely a letter but the urgency is clear.]
Daryl,
Please come over as soon as you get this note. Jeremy’s not doing well, for reasons I’ll explain when you get here. Please keep in mind that if he acts like he’s lashing out, he’s not at you personally. He’s in the worst memory he can possibly have and he needs to get grounded back to earth.
I know you care about him. He needs us, he needs those he trusts.
You know when you offered to blow off some wereanimal steam? I decided it was better to go on a hunt, just the two of us bringing something home for dinner and let loose.
To be quite honest, I don’t know why I feel like I need to hunt sometimes. It’s like this wanting to be wild that comes around the full moon. I still haven’t worked the kinks out this werewolf thing, especially with the Erosian magic. I don’t want to hurt Jeremy, or you!
The full moon huh. Cranks all your instincts and "cravings" up to 11, right? Yeah I think I can help you out. And you don't gotta worry about hurting me. How about I come by now if you're ready.
Funny you mentioned cravings. I'll be waiting at the back, wearing the red hood.
See you then!
- PG
[That red hood has been keeping the wolf in check, but even someone as neurotic as Phil knows it's only temporary. It's only a matter of time before the instincts overwhelm him and bleed out into the already lustful Eros magic. He normally doesn't have this balancing act, but full moons were always a crapshoot.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
post Stephen and [REDACTED] fight
It's Phil, are you okay? I haven't seen you by the shop for a while. Are we still on for that clinic shift later with Dr. Strange and Dr. Watson?
- PG
no subject
The reply letter is a little delayed — due to reasons explained in it. Daryl's been doing what cats do best. ]
Phil-
Hey. Sorry I haven't been by. Been recuperating. That means sleeping a lot.
Yeah we're still on. Even if Dr. Self Righteous is there.
x Daryl
no subject
Why don’t you come over for lunch and you can tell me what happened with Dr. Strange. Jeremy’s home if you want another pair of ears to listen to you.
- PG
no subject
Phil-
Sure. Give me a few.
x Daryl
[ Because he's in definite need of some grooming, he feels, before he presents himself to these two people in particular. He actually cares about their opinions of him. ]
no subject
The offer of food he doesn't have to catch or prepare himself is highly appealing at the moment. Though the empathic transference of Stephen's stab wound to himself hadn't taken him long at all to heal, it came at the expense of his energy; maybe a little more than he'd expected, honestly. He's felt so tired. But that only further convinces him it was absolutely the best course of action he could've taken — a wound that severe on a human could've spelled real trouble if he hadn't acted when he did.
And all Daryl had received for his help was a lambasting, with Stephen snarling about never doing that again (despite agreeing to being healed in the first place), how it wasn't Daryl's to suffer, whatever that means. The stabby ghost kid's mother interrupted before Stephen could explain exactly why his magical underwear was in such a twist, leaving Daryl to speculate on the reasons.
"And what, you're going to try to tell me it didn't hurt? That you didn't just take on exactly what I'd gone through? I've seen Bertie do exactly what you just did and I know what it did to him!"
He's momentarily pulled from his thoughts by the cheerful looking flower gardens in someone's yard. Realising it'll probably reflect better on him if he doesn't show up empty-handed, he collects a small, pretty bouquet of flowers, figuring there's so many that surely the resident won't even notice these few missing. He conjures a simple ribbon to tie them all together, and by that point he's standing outside the Phone Tap.
Knocking a few times to announce his presence, he lets himself in while attempting to rub the last traces of sleep from his eyes with his free hand.
no subject
“Hey, you look...tired. Very tired, come right in!” Phone Guy greeted before he noticed the flowers, “Oh! Daryl, these are lovely! Who are these for?” He was caught off guard with this offering, trying to figure out what they meant. Were they for him? For Jeremy? For both of them? A part of Phil, the Erosian in him, was intrigued by that last option but he quietly filed that aside to more pressing matters.
“Sit down, it’s a salmon bake sandwich with some chicken noodle soup. Not Chica mind you, that good hen’s an egg layer.”
no subject
And it's not a coincidence that most the flowers double as ingredients for various potions and enchantments. He has a penchant for functional gifts over purely aesthetic ones, and in this case it's a nice blending of both. A spur of the moment gift, but still meaningful.
It had just seemed like a nice gesture when he'd thought of it, and it's probably the least he can do, really, in return for the food. The food which he can already smell, and he lifts his chin to scent the air appreciatively, forgetting for the moment that he isn't in his cat form and should be making more of an effort to act like a person. He's maybe still a bit groggy. The mention of Chica sparks some amusement; it's still a ridiculous name, but somehow fitting for the headstrong hen.
"Smells good," he remarks as he takes a seat. "How've you both been?" Unsure what to do with the bouquet, he'll hold it until Phil takes it or tells him where to put it. Assuming the werewolf wants to accept the gift, of course.
no subject
“We’ve been pretty good, though we’ve made a resolution to get Alby trotting more. We kinda over-spoiled him...he’s a bit rounder than how he was,” Phil admitted rather sheepishly. “Finny’s been bringing his friends over to play, I think Jeremy named his favorite Bailey. What about you? What did Stephen do?”
That last part is mentioned with an exasperated tone, as if it wasn’t the first time the sorcerer did something stupid.
no subject
"Hey, Alby's in shape. Round's a shape," he comments with a slight smile, but it's short lived as the topic all too quickly turns to Stephen. But his expression isn't angry, rather it's closer to weary confusion at this point. It's only because he actually considers the arrogant sorcerer a friend that Stephen's inexplicable rage has gotten to him. If he presently had cat ears or whiskers, they'd be drooping here.
"You see his thing on the bulletin board about fighting someone in the Mirror Dimension, and for everyone to stay out? Couldn'ta been more obvious he wanted an audience." At least his appetite isn't suffering, and he begins digging into the food as he explains the situation.
"Seems to have beef with that pasty-white ghost kid with the weird eyes. That's who he fought. Few of us showed up to watch." And he doesn't sound the least bit ashamed about it. Not like he'd known beforehand Stephen was picking fights with a kid. "Lot of posturing, taunting, dodging, ghost kid managed to stab him pretty deep. Then Strange opened two portals and pitched the kid into 'em so he'd perpetually fall. That part was kinda funny," he admits. And maybe cheap, but who's he to judge? He'd have probably helped Stephen cheat if he'd been asked to. All in good fun.
no subject
As Dixon explained what started the mess, he rolls his eyes. “That kid’s trouble, got a temper that makes anyone look like a saint. He tossed my table over and scared Finny over a misunderstanding. But Stephen? Stephen’s an adult, a surgeon. And apparently a very accomplished sorcerer...with an ego made of porcelain.” Why yes, he’s going to chop some vegetables into a fine mince, because that’s what adults do, right?
“I can imagine him eating his own words was worth it, so what made him angry at you? You’re a good cat guy, never seen you actually hurt someone’s feelings. I don’t think you actually capable of it.”
no subject
"Well the kid's mom stopped the fight, and that was that." It may be different in human society, but in the animal kingdom and supernatural societies, fucking with protective parents is invariably a bad idea. So of course Daryl took it as incentive to leave as soon as possible.
"Strange was already lookin' pale and like he might drop any minute. I offered to heal him, he agreed. So I did it the fastest way I know how. Empathic transference," Daryl continues without looking up from his food, absently pushing the contents of the soup around with the spoon.
"Took the wound on myself. It'd already healed over by the time he lost his mind, yelling 'bout how it ain't mine to suffer and to never do that again. And... some other stuff... Maybe he was just mad he didn't get to dramatically pass out in a healer's arms like a martyr. Anyway. S'why I've been sleeping. Guess the wound was worse than I first thought."
And the food's helping a bit. He's also seriously considering finally asking for some of the happiness-spelled desserts Phil's famous for, he just doesn't want to have to explain why he's seeking the magical equivalent of antidepressants. It's nothing to do with the Stephen problem, and unfortunately isn't as easily solved.
no subject
In a rare gesture, mostly reserved for Jeremy and those who he trusted in Eros, Phil gently lifted Dixon's chin so they could meet eye to eye. Brown eyes full of care and compassion met the werecat's and a soothing voice took center stage.
"Would you like me to help you with my magic?" he asked, giving Daryl the choice to seek some temporary aid. "I can whip you something to ease your body and mind. You know that."
He offered the spell with the same confidence in his skills as the other magic users had. He'd done this sort of spell a few times, especially when Jeremy's mental and physical condition.
no subject
"Nah. Don't waste your energy or supplies." The on me goes unspoken but it's still implied in his tone. It's partly why he's had such difficulty even asking for a happiness-spelled cake — he feels it'd be wasted on him. Better it go to someone who needs it more, just like the magic Phil's presently offering. Hell, he's sure Jeremy needs it more than he does, and considering how the Eros magic is fuelled, the ex-soldier should be the one to enjoy the fruits of his labour, as it were.
...And that certainly isn't something Daryl should be thinking about.
"Ain't something I should cut corners with," he adds, hoping to soften what might seem like a rejection to Phil. "Better to sleep it off like I've been doing. And I guess I just gotta ask the sorcerer ass supreme what he meant, 'cause he never bothered explaining after the kid's mom interrupted our conversation. That's when I left."
Contrary to what Stephen would later tell Phil. Daryl quite honestly genuinely doesn't know why his healing caused such a ridiculous overreaction, nor does he know Bertie well enough to go asking him what Stephen meant, unfortunately. That only leaves Stephen himself as the person to ask. Ugh.
no subject
"I have plenty in stock, it wouldn't be a waste. I wouldn't want them to spoil either." He tries to have Dixon accept it from the very nature of a cupcake not consumed by those who should enjoy such a treat. He only breaks the contact to fetch both the treat and a small clear vial full of the same healing potion he showed the werecat a while back. "You shouldn't face these things all on your own, we're here to help, you know? Me and Jeremy, our door is always open for you."
And he really does mean that, that they're there for him, "Consider it a get well soon gift. From us."
no subject
How could he possibly turn his friend down again?
He doesn't. Instead he's tentatively reaching for one of Phil's hands, for no reason other than to hold it between his own, if he's permitted to. There's no flinching this time. It's different when he's the one initiating the physical contact — when he has at least some 'control' over what happens.
He finds it's easier to accept help than to ask for it. Maybe Phil guessed that about him.
"Thank you," he quietly replies, "both of you. Goes both ways. If either of you need help, I hope you'll let me." Let him because he knows Phil and Jeremy both can have trouble accepting help, too, for their own reasons. But if they're going to try and take care of him, they'd better be ready for the same treatment; Daryl doesn't take such gestures of kindness lightly.
And this is how you get yourself a cat guardian.no subject
“I’ll keep it in mind, Mr. Dixon,” Gray accepted the help with a tad formal tone offset with a wink. He also knows that he’s a lot to take in on one sitting. As much as Phil tried to be more grounded, his bubbly fanboy nature tended to get the better of him. He could be overwhelming just to have around but he couldn’t stop looking at the bright side of the world. “I’m pretty sure I’m gonna mess up sooner or later.” Cat guardians would be handy when the wolf is a massive klutz.
November 13
Daryl,
Please come over as soon as you get this note. Jeremy’s not doing well, for reasons I’ll explain when you get here. Please keep in mind that if he acts like he’s lashing out, he’s not at you personally. He’s in the worst memory he can possibly have and he needs to get grounded back to earth.
I know you care about him. He needs us, he needs those he trusts.
- Phil
April 8
Hey Daryl,
You know when you offered to blow off some wereanimal steam? I decided it was better to go on a hunt, just the two of us bringing something home for dinner and let loose.
What say you?
- PG
no subject
Sounds good to me.
But what happened that's got you all worked up?
x Daryl
no subject
To be quite honest, I don’t know why I feel like I need to hunt sometimes. It’s like this wanting to be wild that comes around the full moon. I still haven’t worked the kinks out this werewolf thing, especially with the Erosian magic. I don’t want to hurt Jeremy, or you!
- PG
no subject
The full moon huh. Cranks all your instincts and "cravings" up to 11, right? Yeah I think I can help you out. And you don't gotta worry about hurting me. How about I come by now if you're ready.
x Daryl
no subject
Funny you mentioned cravings. I'll be waiting at the back, wearing the red hood.
See you then!
- PG
[That red hood has been keeping the wolf in check, but even someone as neurotic as Phil knows it's only temporary. It's only a matter of time before the instincts overwhelm him and bleed out into the already lustful Eros magic. He normally doesn't have this balancing act, but full moons were always a crapshoot.]