Just because Nikos had made life so much easier for him, and made it unnecessary for him to stand on a corner and play his saxophone, didn't mean he didn't WANT to occasionally. He liked it, liked seeing the appreciation on peoples' faces. He hadn't exactly expected that of himself, since he wasn't a huge fan of people in general, but he'd found he somewhat missed it. It felt so lonely sometimes, being that 'caged bird', even if it was safe.
That was exactly why he was out and about alone, playing his instrument in the park just like he would have before Nikos, just because he could. He wanted the fresh air, the mingling, all of it, even if it sometimes scared him. It had been quite some time since he'd had a 'scare' regarding his mother or a hunter, and so, perhaps he was feeling a bit daring. Someone would no doubt remind him as to why he usually hid, but he was fine for the moment.
He had his case opened for any tips he might get, and his saxophone seemed like only an object, just an instrument before he actually touched it to his lips and played. Then, it was obvious that John, that Edward, wasn't just a musician. He was an artist, and he was a swan. Music was his gift.
Fairfax relaxed on a bench, smiling appreciatively around at the scenery, grateful that he could be out enjoying it without worrying about his own breath obscuring the view. Central Park was fast becoming one of his favourite spots in the city, and the weather had been passably warm enough for the past several days that he could frequent its paths and benches and infamous landmarks comfortably.
Other city-dwellers were taking advantage of the warm spell, it seemed, and as today was the warmest yet, the park was considerably crowded. Fax didn't mind. He saw this as a convenient opportunity to explore his newfound senses...assuming he could tap into them.
And he was having difficulty. It was too soon for him to seriously consider himself an "elavie", or whatever the deuce it was that Mr. Leone had termed it. It wasn't that he didn't believe it. He had to believe it, after what he'd seen (and, apparently, experienced). But the fact of the matter was that he had yet to shift for the first time, and until that came about (and then some, likely), he was entirely ignorant of how to willfully access his "feline side". Something had happened that first night at the Hollow, sure, but everything that had happened that night was rather enveloped in a confused, muddled fog.
So Fairfax sat there on his bench, feeling like a complete fool as he hopefully sniffed at the air each time a person passed before him. He wasn't noticing a thing, didn't feel a bit different...
And then he heard a saxophone. He perked up, glancing over his shoulder to locate the origin of the music. The player was terribly good! After a moment he spotted a small cluster of people standing to the side of one of the many statues littering the park, and beneath the statue was the musician. This city does not have a good track record for aspiring musicians, Fax thought cynically to himself, standing and brushing himself off. But then, I suppose I knew that, coming here...
He headed across the lawn and stood with the crowd as the man played (breathed, lived) his instrument. Once he'd finished the number, there was a polite smattering of applause and the majority of the crowd wandered away, murmuring about the nice music. Fax, on the other hand, fished out his wallet and drew out a few dollars to drop in the case. Never hurt to help a fellow artist, especially one who was so clearly gifted! He smiled pleasantly at the saxophonist; the common ground of music was enough for him to be bolder than usual.
"Don't suppose you know Miss Saigon?" he put forth amiably.
John didn't take any special notice of the young man until he threw a few dollars in his case, and then it was somewhat more pressing for him to pay attention. Naturally, that was because he was a paranoid mess, and anyone throwing more than a dollar in his case was someone he felt the need to focus on. The kid didn't LOOK like the sort his mother would have hired, but he'd been wrong before. Was he wrong?
Maybe, but what was this? Miss Saigon? He had to wonder if the kid thought he was being funny, considering the song 'Solo Saxophone' and the fact that it didn't have any saxophone in it, but John knew of another that would fit the criteria.
"I know it better for piano," he said simply, but he didn't refuse. Nodding and making eye contact, which he didn't break until well into the song, he started playing.
It certainly wasn't his favorite, but to each his own. At least it didn't have any cheesy implications about being captured or anything of the like. If this kid had wanted a sax rendition of Duran Duran's Hungry Like the Wolf, he would have been worried. As it was, he was merely cautious. Paranoid, as always.
Fairfax was thrilled when the saxophonist launched into "The Dance", and instinctively grinned. Miss Saigon certainly was an enjoyable show...not as masterful as Les Mis, no, but it had a few lovely tunes and this, he felt, was one of them.
Before the player got too far, Fax began to hum the piano accompaniment. The solo sound was nice, but it felt a bit incomplete. Suddenly inspired, he switched from humming to vocalizing --not too loudly-- and mimed placing his hands on an invisible keyboard, "playing" along. He knew he must have looked and sounded like an arse, but for once, he really didn't mind: this was music. When it came to music, most anything could be excused. As long as the other man didn't stop playing, he would continue without embarrassment.
He was just taking a new breath...when he smelled something. It was so startling that he stopped singing completely and dropped his hands, glancing around perplexedly. It was distinct. He'd never smelt anything like it before, that is, he'd never SMELT like this before, so it didn't take him long to realize that this was what he'd been trying to do the entire time he'd spent in Central Park. He was Smelling. It was SO very different from smelling something as a human. The thing was, he had no idea what to make of it, or how to trace it to a source.
But blimey, he could go for some chicken...
John caught a peek of Fairfax singing and playing the air keyboard, not to mention hearing him singing, but he didn't halt. What did he care if someone got a little too into the music? The kid HAD requested this song, so let him enjoy it. Maybe he'd drop a few more dollars in the case, and John could have some money that was all his. He usually felt somewhat bad with Nikos always catching the bills.
He actually didn't take much notice when Fairfax suddenly STOPPED, but even if he'd been watching, he probably wouldn't have thought much of it. So the kid finally decided that he felt silly? Okay. Fine with John. He wouldn't argue either way. He was just enjoying the chance to play.
Of course, he probably would have LIKED to know that Fairfax was suddenly thinking something regarding chicken. Really, chicken? How rude! Swan was so much more elegant, more regal, than a simple chicken.
When the song wound itself down to its close, he finally stopped for a good breath and a glance at the one who'd requested the song. Hopefully, he hadn't stopped his air keyboard because John had butchered it, though the swan naturally knew that he hadn't. "How'd you like it?"
Fairfax was so involved with trying to wrap his brain --and nose-- around this new Smell that he was taken by surprise when the music stopped, and there was the saxophonist, turning to him and asking him if he'd liked it.
Bugger. He'd missed the end. Still, he forced up a smile, trying to ignore this odd craving he was suddenly having for a turkey dinner. "Excellent!" he replied. "Gad, man, how long have you been playing? You're really quite good..."
In the meantime, he couldn't help continue pondering the source of the Smell inwardly. Felines had a rather superior sense of smell, did they not? Perhaps he was smelling something at a great distance...a vendor selling chicken, for instance. That would explain why he...
Oh! He'd had foie gras on a few occasions before, and THAT'S what this smelled suggested to him! "Duck!" he blurted aloud, triumphant, and then flushed mightily with embarrassment. Oh, God. That was one of the problems with being an introverted sort: he had a habit of talking to himself, and that occasionally resulted in uttering his thoughts without thinking, and not always in private. He covered his mouth belatedly, still red, too mortified to even apologize.
"Thank you. I've been playing a very, very long time, but I appreciate the compliment," he responded politely, nodding, though Fairfax seemed rather distracted all of a sudden. Most people may not have noticed, but John made it a point to take notice of little things. What was going on with this boy?
"Are y--" He didn't finish asking if Fax was okay before the kid blurted something about a duck, and John froze. Duck? What? Why? Did he know that John was a swan, and feel the need to berate him, or was he just insane? Or, just as bad, was he just that inexperienced that he didn't know what a swan smelled like? He couldn't be a human if that was the case, but what was he? Something dangerous? Time for John to leave, then.
"Um, excuse me?" he asked, just to keep the boy talking for the moment. He was busily packing up his instrument and getting the money he'd made into his pocket. Then, he was out of there, and away from the strange kid, who would hopefully not follow.
Yeah, right.
Fairfax was still trying to get over his utter humiliation. He felt that trying to explain himself would mean digging himself into an even deeper hole: Sorry, sir, I thought I smelled foie gras?
He settled for apologizing profusely, finally finding his voice. "Sorry, sorry, mind was elsewhere, that ever happen to you?" he stammered, laughing nervously. Oh, grand. Now I sound like a blathering lunatic. He's even packing his things, likely he's keen on escaping 'this madman', he observed glumly. "I-I'm sorry if I startled you," he added hopelessly, half to himself, as he took a step back.
Curse it, he thought he'd found a friend. Lord knew he could use some in this unfriendly city. He sighed.
The sigh gave him a new whiff of THE SMELL, stronger than ever. A tingling sensation shot through Fax's body, akin to the feeling he experienced when he heard a piece he really enjoyed, or, for that matter, played. Wow, was the Smell doing that? He sniffed again, shamelessly relishing the mounting excitement this created, in his own world for a moment.
Hang on... He looked back at the saxophonist, discombobulated. What the...was the smell coming from him?
"Don't worry about it," he told the other guy smoothly, not wanting to make him think too much about it. John just knew when to extract himself from a situation, and this was it. He didn't want to stay here. "I just realized that I was running later than I'd expected. It wasn't you."
Well, that was a lie, but John was rather good at that. He lied all the time to keep the attention off of him and keep information about him reaching unwelcome sources. He could lie to some kid on the street. And with the way Fax was looking at him, lying seemed like a VERY good idea. Really, duck?
Wait. This kid wasn't just staring at him. He was sniffing.
THAT WAS BAD.
Shitshitshit, time to go.
"Thank you, but I must be going." He picked up his case, and was taking off, hoping that this strange boy wouldn't follow him. Just go away... Naturally, he had no idea that just the smell of him was making Fax want to follow.
Hey, hey, wait, he was leaving! And there was no doubt about it, the Smell, the wonderful SMELL, was coming from him! "Hi, wait!" he called after the retreating musician, falling into step behind him, excitement intensifying the instant he started moving. He attributed it to his new theory, that he was perhaps smelling what the man had eaten. As wound up as he was becoming (not to mention gradually bereft of human consciousness), he didn't think much about what he was saying. "I don't suppose you've eaten foie gras recently?!"
Wouldn't THAT be something if he had? It really must have been recent, otherwise his sense of smell was incredibly keen: the Smell was overwhelming! He could almost taste it.
Fax had no idea how close he was to snapping.
Oh, no. The kid was following. NOW what the hell was John going to do? He had to get rid of him somehow, but that wouldn't be very easy. It was hard for a swan, of all things, to disappear in the city, and he wasn't likely to manage that on foot unless he could convince the kid to leave him alone.
"I said, I have an appointment to make. I really don't have ti---"
Foie gras.
Duck.
FOOD.
John paled a little, glancing around nervously as he picked up his pace. He was headed for Nikos' building, but that didn't mean he could make it. It was enough of a walk that it might take him too long. "No. No, I haven't. I'm a vegetarian," he answered. Go away! Fairfax had to be a shifter of some sort, like Lore was, John decided. He really needed to stop running into the ones that wanted to eat him.
Fairfax wasn't really hearing what the saxophonist was saying anymore. His own pulse was skyrocketing, his mind flitting away at dangerous speeds. As he continued following the other man --who was suddenly moving quite quickly, how exciting!-- there was more accompanying the Smell...now there was definitely Taste, and Sound (the sound he was hearing, a strange fluttering, was somehow tasty in itself), and a new sense that was unfamiliar to part of him, the part that was fast disappearing.
The strange fluttering was John's beating heart, skipping along madly. The new sense was telling Fairfax that the smell, the taste, the sound, the "man" in front of him-- all of it meant FOOD.
This revelation slammed into Fax just as the two of them were nipping across the street.
Fax did not stop when it happened. It came as naturally as if he'd been doing it for years, and he even surged forward swiftly, out of the illumination of the headlights of idling cars at the stoplight, while he shifted.
Food. Now.
Let it be known, before going any further, that there is little in life that John cared more for than his instrument.
Among those few things was his life.
The swan felt more than saw the 'human' behind him surge forward, and it was prey instinct that told him it wasn't a human anymore. He whipped the sax case around so quickly that it was OBVIOUS that he wasn't human himself, and the instant it impacted, he released it and took off into the alley they were so near. He had to get away!
But how? Could he really get enough speed to shift and fly before the predator could get him? He wasn't sure, but it was better than just running. There was no way he could outright a cat that size, and he couldn't tell himself that he didn't reek of fear right then. He was so not a warrior.
WHAM. Sax case to Fax face.
The cougar hit the ground gracelessly, stunned by the surprise strike. He'd been in mid-leap when the case had struck, which made the blow all the more jarring. What saved him from sustaining more damage than he did was the fact that John was in such a hurry to bolt: he'd let go of the case preemptively, not following through with his swing completely.
It was still a moment before Fairfax gathered himself up and took off down the alley after his prey, followed by startled shouts of "OH SHIT!" and "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!" from innocent passerby back on the crosswalk.
If John hadn't been such a quiet person by nature, he might have screamed for help, especially when he heard those people yelling. Of course, what were they going to do to stop a cougar from eating him? Besides watch in horror, of course. He was on his own, and staying out in the public eye was just limiting what he was ABLE to do, which was why he'd bolted down the alley.
That, and he was scared practically senseless.
Really, it didn't take much to get that panicked fear instinct going in him, which was something he hated, but had learned to live with. You aren't born a swan just to rule the world. Lots of things, he'd found, wanted to eat him, and there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it except try NOT to be eaten. They didn't care if he was one of the few male swans alive. That wouldn't be an argument this cougar cared about. And now, he'd lost his sax case, so he didn't have anything to use against it the next time it leapt, unless he got fancy with his footwork. He'd been a dancer once upon a time, and he was still a shifter, so perhaps he could dodge around a bit. Considering how few his options were right then (since he knew he wouldn't be able to fly without getting pounced), he'd be willing to try it.
While he searched for a fire escape.
He really didn't think a cougar could climb a metal fire escape, and there was one ahead. He just had to survive long enough to get to it, and jump high enough when he did. That settled it. He had a plan.
Fairfax was hanging back, if only a little. This prey had fangs, so to speak. He wasn't keen on getting whalloped in the face again, and he was being a bit more cautious, loping along behind his panicked, fleeing prey at a leisurely pace, making sure he could get a good look.
The cougar didn't need the human part of his mind to figure out that the prey no longer appeared as threatening, now that it no longer held the large, heavy thing. There were no other large, heavy things.
He'd hung back long enough. With an abrupt burst of speed, he took an impressive, flying leap.
John's heart was beating a mile a minute, but that certainly didn't mean much. His heart always raced, though this was definitely a special circumstance. He didn't often get chased down by a cougar intent upon eating him. That alone required a special response from him.
The second he felt that new stab of fear, when Fairfax leapt at him, was when he moved. He twisted around, much like he was twirling a dance partner, and was suddenly NOT occupying the space Fax was landing in. Taking a note from the animal whose form he possessed, as well as his poor Sax case, he whipped his arm around with his hand fisted to smack the cougar in the back of the head in a marvelous backhand swing.
Swans had fight, when they tried.
He took that instant to take a running leap for the ladder of the nearby fire escape, but he knew he wasn't going to make it on his own. He was no ninja, and a normal human couldn't get up those simply for security reasons. He needed a boost, which was exactly what he gave himself.
Fortunately, he hadn't been too fond of his clothes, since anything covering his back practically exploded as huge white swan wings swept out. It may have been pretty to anyone who might have seen, but it had a practical use. When he jumped for the ladder to the fire escape, he flapped those huge wings, headed for the ladder.
Which he caught, and hung on to.
And here, ladies and gentlemen, is where his brilliant plan ran into a bit of trouble. Fire escape ladders, unlike just about anything else he could have grabbed, do a funny thing when they have weight on them. They fall.
John's weight pulled the ladder down, though he held onto it despite the surprise of suddenly falling, and he suddenly found himself still on the same level as the cougar. Lovely. Perfect. RUN.
He shot a panicked look at the cougar and began to shoot up the ladder, knowing that if he survived this, he was going to forever think of that and feel extremely stupid.
It was one indignity for a cougar to pounce for prey and miss. It was yet another when, after landing on preyless, hard concrete, paws splayed, the cougar gets struck in the back of the head.
This was not nearly as painful as the saxophone case had been, and mostly just served to annoy the dickens out of Fairfax. As an initial reaction to the blow he flattened himself to the ground, snarling, recoiling out of the way in case another blow was to follow. His ears flicked up when he realized that his prey was running again, and in a flash he was following.
As his prey leaped, so did he. The sudden appearance of wings did not faze the cougar: his prey was a bird to his senses, no matter what it looked like, really. As John grabbed hold of the fire escape ladder, Fairfax slammed into the bottom rung, scrabbling wildly for a hold.
When the ladder started to plummet, the cougar dropped, startled, landing on all four paws and twisting out of the way as John and the ladder landed. All right. Enough. With the hair-raising scream that cougars are notorious for emitting, he sprang yet again, aiming for the back of the neck.
Oh. Wings. This did not bide well for Fairfax. Without a way to get around those wings, with prey moving vertically, with no place to land other than on his prey, he slipped. Quickly, he lashed out his claws and dug them into the first thing he could get a grip on: John's right leg. This was shortly followed by his jaws on the swan's thigh.
The bad thing about fighting with a cougar, besides the claws, teeth and speed, is that they're big. And that scream is enough to scare the hell out of most anyone. Having his attacker slam into him in a missed attempt at attacking hurt, but he was upward bound, and not about to let something like pain get in his way.
Wait a second. His leg was suddenly on fire. Nix that pain getting in the way thing.
John screamed, not nearly as impressively as Fairfax, when the claws dug into his leg, but the teeth quickly following actually shut him up. They didn't hurt immediately, but were a pressure that scared him even more than the pain did. He was NOT going to allow a cougar to take a chunk out of his leg without a fight. Instead of punching the animal though, he swung with something that had a little more oomph.
His wing.
Anyone who's been beaten with a swan's wing would know that, while they weren't exactly designed as weapons, they packed quite a wallop. Afterall, they were strong enough to carry the large bird into the sky, so they had to be strong. These wings were even bigger, proportionate to his human body, and he swept one in for a backwards stroke. He had to get Fax off of his leg if he was going to be able to climb the ladder.
He had this one in the bag. NOTHING could go wrong now: he had his claws AND teeth in the leg, his body was weighing his vertically-fleeing prey down, he--
WHUMP.
--was quite suddenly on the ground. Not by intent. He hadn't even landed properly. Thank goodness it hadn't been a very far fall. Still, Fairfax had the wind knocked out of him, and sprawled there to the side of the ladder, panting and stunned.
A tiny bit of his mind was creeping back to him...perhaps it was the memory of being out of breath. That was certainly a familiar feeling.
John had no idea that he'd knocked the wind out of the cat, or that it was a familiar feeling to Fairfax. All he cared about was climbing that ladder as quickly as he could with his leg bleeding and his wing throbbing from the blow. It'd be bruised, but nothing serious. If he took too long, he'd probably be in more serious trouble, so he climbed.
As soon as he'd made it to the platform above and his weight left the ladder, it wooshed up after him, and he found himself staring down at the cat. He felt strange, almost like a cat in a tree, waiting for the dog below to get bored. Would Fairfax get bored and go away? With the way John's leg was bleeding, perhaps not. He immediately took the remains of his shirts and tore them up to tie around the wounds in his leg. Bleeding to death after escaping being eaten would be very disappointing.
"You can go away anytime now," he snapped at the cat below. It'd get bored eventually. He hoped.
Still panting, the big cat tilted his head back and stared up at the bleeding man. There were aggressive sounds on top of the ever-present fear.
'Go...away'...?
Within the feline's mind, Fairfax, the human Fairfax, was definitely stirring. He was beginning to notice things, to actively ponder them: he was on the ground...in an alley?...he kind of ached, ouch, that was unpleasant...something still smelled wonderful...
The cougar was still very much present. Growling softly, Fax pulled himself into a crouching position, lowering his head and keeping his eyes locked on the platform above, tail switching dynamically.
"Fine. Stay there. I really don't care," he went on, leaning back against the metal in an attempt to make himself comfortable. He realized that he might have to stay there awhile, and actually hoped his saxophone wouldn't get stolen while he was trapped up there. That would suck.
Of course, waiting also sucked, and the cougar didn't seem to be getting bored. Damn patient predators. Naturally, Fairfax would remain crouched below him, waiting until he either couldn't stand sitting there anymore, or bled to death. He wasn't sure which seemed more likely at that point, but he was going to do his best not to let a cat out-wait him. So he started whistling. It was actually a tune from a soundtrack he'd recently heard, Sweeney Todd. He was impressed with the singing and even the lyrics, but the music itself stuck with him. Besides, he thought the presence of blood warranted such dark melodies.
He'd gotten completely through 'My Friend' and 'Johanna', then started 'Epiphany' before help arrived, though it wasn't at all in the manner he expected.
'Help' actually happened to arrive in precisely the form John needed, though he didn't recognize that immediately. Ash wasn't stupid, and he noticed the discarded musical instrument and the whistling as soon as he was within range of the alley. He wasn't personally a large patron of the arts, but he knew that no musician would just leave their instrument like that. He followed the sound of the whistling, completely unafraid, and evaluated the situation before him with only mild interest apparent on his face.
"You look as though you'd like some help, my friend," he called up to the man he located on a fire escape, who'd been the source of the whistling. Seeing the shockingly white wings wrapped around the man, apparently for warmth in the slowly chilling evening air. Ash paid little attention to the cougar for the time being, instead smiling at the way the man started suddenly before calling out an affirmative.
"Now, exactly what were you thinking?" he murmured, talking to the cat finally. It was obviously a shifter, or at least, it was obvious to him. He could see it in the animal's aura.
The cougar couldn't have cared less about the noises his prey was now making. He was content crouching there, watching the white wings that stood out starkly in the gloom of the alley, smelling blood, waiting for movement. He did not intend to jump up there, even if it was within his limits. No need to waste energy.
The human, however, was desperately trying to dredge up the reason why this whistling was so bloody amazing. The music, the MUSIC, he loved this music...what, music?...what was music...
OH. Fairfax's mind surfaced with shocking suddenness, causing him to sit bolt upright.
SWEENEY TODD. Oh, gad, how he adored that show! He had the whole bloody piano score memorized, what fun he'd had accompanying at rehearsals back when the local troupe put it on, how ecstatic he'd been to hear a movie was coming out--
Wait. Wait. Where am I? Uneasy, he cast his gaze about at his dark surroundings. He had a vague recollection of running...of falling...of ow-his-chest-hurt... He automatically reached to gingerly touch his chest...
He blinked. Bloody hell.
Instinct jumped back into play when there was a noise further down the alley, and Fax jerked his head to the side, ears pricking up. His human mind didn't get muscled out of the way this time, however. Fairfax was an unsettled mix of feline and human, at the moment, and very uncomfortable with the situation. So he'd shifted...he was a damned COUGAR...there was someone on the fire escape above him --although he hadn't the foggiest what someone would be doing up there...and someone new was coming.
...Mr. Leone??? He stared in disbelief...but there he was!
"Now, exactly what were you thinking?"
The cougar wanted to retreat to assess this development. Fairfax's desire to greet Ash was greater, so he gathered himself up on all fours and exclaimed, "Mr. Leone!"
...Only it came out as an odd chirping sound. What sort of cat chirps? he grumbled to himself. He wondered if Ash could possibly recognize him like this, particularly with his inability to communicate, and decided it was high time to change back.
...Er. How does one do that, I wonder...
To Ash's benefit, he didn't laugh when the large cat rose and chirped at him, even if he would have liked to. He smiled, though. He had the sudden feeling that he might know this cat, and since he didn't know many cougars, that narrowed it down rather sharply. Fairfax seemed to need a little help.
"Hello to you, too. How about a hand with that?" he asked, still talking to the cat, despite John's weird looks. Really, it didn't take much to fix this situation for Ash. He was probably the best equipped in the city.
He took a few steps closer to Fairfax, then aligned the palm of his hand with the cat's forehead, though he didn't actually touch him. That wasn't necessary. It was from there that the triste tugged at the elemental aura, making the necessary prods to do the job. It took all of about ten seconds to trigger the shift back to human, and he waited with a somewhat amused smile. Once he was sure Fax was alright, he'd have to coax the other shifter down from his perch.
No pun intended, of course.
Fairfax was relieved: Mr. Leone was speaking to him, at least, and apparently he could do something to help out with this minor dilemma. He had no doubt that he'd have to figure out how to control this shifting nonsense himself, eventually, but for now he was quite happy to let Ash give him a few pointers.
He was a little puzzled when the Triste appeared to be reaching for him...and then he was on his hands and knees. It was an awfully odd sensation, switching from feeling as though he were standing to crawling in no time flat, and although he hadn't even moved, he lost his balance and flumped to the ground with a small yelp.
Fax stumbled to his feet quickly, a bit disoriented from abandoning his feline side so abruptly. "Oh, thank you, thank you, Mr. Leone...I...must have...barely remember..."
Abandoning his feline side? Perhaps not. With a sense of deja vu, he Smelled something, and jerked his head up to stare up at the fire escape, frowing slightly. He did not lose control again, fortunately. He merely peered confusedly. It...resembled the saxophonist. Only he was wearing something white, it appeared.
"You're welcome, Mr. Whitley," he returned, apparently amused by this point. The best part was to come, though. "Why don't you introduce me to your friend?"
Friend, ha! John heard that, and he glared down at the two men. They seemed to be enjoying this more than he was, and he flipped them both the bird as a result. "Friends don't try to eat each other!" he called out, not yet willing to move. Not until he was sure that the crazy cat wasn't going to attack him again.
"I actually have to agree with him. Trying to eat him was rather rude," Ash returned. This was obviously one of his better moods. Considering he was going to fix it all, it didn't bother him to get a little entertainment out of it. "Apologies may be in order," he added in a whisper to Fairfax.
Fairfax looked between Mr. Leone and the saxophonist, horrified. EAT HIM???
Fax was by nature a gentle, easygoing individual, granted only if things were going smoothly, but he was easily mortified, and easily distressed-- and these were definitely drastic circumstances. "I honestly...I didn't...hadn't the slightest clue...!" he sputtered hopelessly, looking to the man on the fire escape for confirmation. "Miss Saigon! There was Miss Saigon! You played it, I loved it! We were getting along famously, weren't we?! You know I would never have an intention of...wanting to..."
He inhaled deeply, then turned back to Ash, slightly bemused. "Do you smell that? God that's good."
'Getting along famously'? If that's what that kid wanted to call 'running for your life'. That wasn't John's usual definition. "Yes, I played it, and then you blurted something about duck and started acting like a social reject! You chased me, and tried to eat me. I have the teeth marks to prove it!"
John was a little upset. Did it show? Of course, he had good reason to. Now that the fear had evaporated, he could feel angry and defensive. Before, it'd just been fear.
"And there you go again!" he snapped, catching something about a good smell. That's how Fairfax had been acting before! He wasn't coming down. Nope. They could go get Nikos, and THEN he'd come down.
Ash, on the other hand, found the whole situation rather amusing. Obviously, Fairfax had no idea what he was doing, or that it was the man up on the fire escape that smelled 'so good', but that didn't seem to be stopping the wounded shifter from being angry about it. Ash was holding to his original advice on the subject.
"Fairfax, that smell is our friend up on the fire escape. He happens to be a swan, from the looks of things, and not only did you offend him by calling him a 'duck', but trying to eat someone is usually considered to be a faux pas. Focus on something other than the smell, and when you apologize, please promise him you won't try to eat him again."
Ash wasn't just going to trust Fairfax not to shift and try again if he lost control, but he was going to try to get Fairfax to keep control on his own. He sucked all the energy he could from the boy's elemental aura, though. No shifting and surprising anyone.
Teeth marks... TEETH marks??? He turned and stared up at the saxophonist again. Good God, he did seem to be bleeding! Was it possible, then...? No, no, I don’t even care for the sight of blood...
Mr. Leone started speaking again, and Fairfax turned to him, all ears. Ash seemed to be the only one with sense in this bloody crazy city, it sometimes seemed to him. He was certainly making the most sense out of this particular situation. As he listened, though, horror manifested rapidly. He clapped his hands over his mouth, looking from Ash to John and back again.
"Bloody hell," he squeaked. "I. Had. NO. Idea." He turned his attention to the saxophonist, guilt washing over him (and effectively drowning the enticing smell for a moment). "I'm terribly sorry! I...I say, you're a swan, then? A shifter swan? To think such a thing exists...!" Bugger it, this attempt at conversation was not helping. It seemed incongruous, but he was beginning to feel as frightened as the poor musician up on his platform-- he hated hurting others, after all, it was something he did NOT make a habit of doing...and here he'd tried EATING someone. What if this does become a habit...? He felt a little queasy.
He darted a miserable glance at Ash, trying to recall all of his suggestions, thankful that someone like him was here right now. Focus on something other than the Smell? Well, it isn’t bothering me now. And naturally, as soon as he said that, it came flooding back into his senses.
“Oh, no...no,†he moaned anxiously, putting his hands over his mouth again. He didn’t like this, he didn’t like this, don’t want to eat the poor swa-- saxophonist, bad, bad, stupid, stupid shifting, he didn’t ask for this...focus, Fax... He crept closer to Mr. Leone, ducking his head, frantically lacing his fingers together in front of his nostrils. “I...should I just...go?†he queried piteously.
He hadn’t realized that he had already found a distraction, a comfortable, feline distraction, despite the fact that he was trying to push the cat part of himself far, far away. Ash was much closer than John was, at the moment, and he smelled familiar, even through the hands that masked Fairfax’s face. He was hardly aware of it, but that was why, when he asked his question, he nervously bumped his head to the other man’s shoulder.
"Fairfax, I can fix most of this, if you can show your new friend that you're not going to do it again," Ash told him quietly as the young cougar got closer to him. He'd already brought Fax back to human and pulled the power out of his elemental aura, so he wouldn't be shifting again anytime soon. Fortunately, Ash didn't have a problem with Fax using him for distraction, so long as it didn't get too strange.
"Stand up straight, pull yourself together, and stop panicking," he told the boy, also tugging at another aura to promote calmness instead of the panic Fax was currently experiencing. Ash could be a living sedative when he wanted to be, or quite the opposite.
"Now, why don't you talk to your musician friend, tell him you're not going to do it again, and try to get him to come down. I'll take care of any physical damage once he's down here. No running away from this," he told the boy seriously. That was part of being a shifter, taking responsibility for any mistakes relating to it. Or at least, as far as Ash was concerned.
"Stand up straight, pull yourself together, and stop panicking"?
Sage advice. Fairfax was mildly surprised when he was able to follow it; he hadn't the slightest inkling that the Triste was manipulating his auras, and could offer no certain explanation as to why he was suddenly feeling calmer...but he stayed close to Ash, instinctively.
"Er...sir?" he called up to the saxophonist, still lacking a name to address him by, and still a touch shaky (but no longer panicking). "I'm terribly, terribly sorry for all this...M-Mr. Leone can heal you if you come down...I promise not to...to do anything again. To you." He swallowed, glanced at Ash, then went on. "Please. S'all right now."
Ash nodded, dropping some encouragement with the gesture, and turned his gaze up to the injured shifter. All things considered, the triste assumed that the guy couldn't be TOO badly injured, he'd have passed out from blood loss already.
He was right, but that didn't mean the swan was cooperating. That was exactly why he put out the extra effort to calm the swan's auras as well, since everyone being calm was certain to be the best situation for everyone involved. He wouldn't try to talk anyone into anything, though. If the saxophonist wanted to stay up there all night, he could do that.
He'd decided he wasn't coming down without Nikos there, but that pale man had a...reassuring quality to him that John wasn't used to. He suddenly didn't feel so panicky and afraid, and he regarded Fairfax for a few long moments before his eyes narrowed.
"You'd better not pull a stunt like that again," he snarled, sounding surprisingly dangerous, particularly for a swan who'd just gotten chased up a fire escape. He hoped Fairfax had a massive headache for a very long time, and actually changed that little wish into a 'very, very long time' as he struggled down the ladder. His leg HURT. It didn't make his mood any better, but at least he hobbled somewhat closer, watching Fairfax like he was going to sprout teeth and claws to try eating him. Again.