Werewolves of London 3

	Sighing, you looked around for a chair. This was going to be hard. Very hard.

	"I'm gonna need a steak." you said bluntly, dragooning a candlebara. Moments later, it was wearing your hat and coat, followed by your gun belt and weapon. "I'm also gonna need a bottle of brandy for after. I am going to need to get so drunk after this..."

	"What?" the Lord Hampstead said.

	"I said, I'm going to shortly need a staggering amount of alcohol to keep myself in relatively good condition after I get your brother's head screwed on straight." you clarified, untucking and unbuttoning your shirt. Moments later, you moved past the Lord Hampstead and into the room with James.

	Looking up at your friend, you sighed carefully. He was agitated, clearly enough, and fraught with worry. The fact he was also five inches taller than normal, covered in thick fur, and the ragged remains of his clothes only made matters worse. Sighing, you just held open your hands and looked at James carefully.

	"Aaawooooooooooo..." James moaned, clawing at his muzzle carefully. Moving in closer, you opened your hands and let him sniff, before he moaned again. Sighing and rolling your eyes, you moved up to get a better look at the particulars of the situation.

	"Hold still." you commanded gently, pulling out a pocketknife. "I'm going to cut you out of these rags."

	It took a few passes, and after that you'd mostly freed James from his mess. The next step, though, was going to be a lot harder. Specifically, getting him to finish the transformation and becoming a werewolf in truth. The phase of the moon would help and hinder you here- specifically, it would make it easier for James to transform. Of course, that also made it easier for you to transform too, and that was a the essence of a problem. After all, if this had been started by a hooker rejecting James because he was a horrible lay, then that meant you needed to track her down too.

	Sitting on the floor, you motioned for James to lay down. "Now, I know this is kinda a problem," you began, shaking your head. "but we can fix it. Look at me, alright?"

	James huffed slightly.

	"Shush. Look at me- I'm calm. I am in control of the situation, and I'm helping you get in control of the situation. Look at me. Keep your eyes focused. Now... relax, and listen to my voice. Do you feel something pulling on you?"

	If he *didn't* feel the lunar pull, you'd go chew on your revolvers. It was only three days to the full moon, and you yourself were normally already full-blown wolf at this point.

	"You feel it, don't you? Good- hold on to it. Focus on it. That's the moon. Think happy thoughts about the moon- it's beautiful, isn't it? It's pulling on you a little right now, but that's okay. Let it pull. Let it pull."

	Meanwhile, you were frantically pushing aside your own connection, telling dear 'ol Luna she'd get her due another time. Maybe tommorow, if you were lucky. Probably not, though.

	"Now, you feel it, don't you? Good, good. Take it, hold that connection to the moon. Do you have it good?"

	"Arf!"

	"Good! Now, give it a swift yank, as hard as you can!"

	At this point, James let off a pained howl, his body cracking and shrieking as it finished the transformation from man to beast. Looking at the wolf you'd accidentally made, you sighed and shook your head. First shifts were always hard, and considering his mental state he was going to be a dog for about a week after this. You wouldn't dignify him with the wolf title until he'd made his first kill, or failing that actually handled this shit halfway competently.

	Making work for you with a tight deadline didn't qualify as competence.

	Outside the room, a servant was waiting for you, the bottle of brandy in hand. Grabbing it, you looked at the cork momentarily, before grabbing your gun belt. On it, your bowie hung, although not for long. Wines, especially aged wines, tended to build up pressure, and back in the Continental Wars the French under Napoleon had figured out a clever way to open bottles of champagne with their swords. You'd picked the trick up in Sault St. Marie on the Quebecois side, and preformed it now with a strong slash following the curve of the neck of the bottle.

	The servant sniffed, and James barked at you. Chortling, you just took a swing and grinned. "Bite me." you told the hound at your side. "C'mon, we need to get ready to go find that woman you tried to fuck. Odds are, she's either in the same boat you were, or worse."