Xaviers!

"I'm not going to make any assumptions," she says as she follows.

Sister walked down the alley to the cross street and then straight across the road before she turned and round a corner, phasing through the door of what looked like a flower shop.

Sam quirks a brow, not exactly a flower shop girl herself. With a shrug, she makes her way in.

Unlike the average flower shop, everything in this place was growing. Long planters were lined in rows with blooming flowers in all of them. Small, single-person-size benches were stacked next to the entrance. Sunlight cascaded into the shop from a skylight. From the back, an older woman walked out, her stride strong despite her age. She took a couple of looks at Sam, then her nostrils flared a bit and she looked right at Sister. "This is the new one?" Sister just nodded and wandered away among the plants. "I'm Allison. Pleased to meet you."

"Sam," she offers.

"Not certain I'm supposed to meet the rest yet, but here we are."

Allison shrugged, "No harm in it." She looked Sam up and down, "You look like a strong one. Mind helping me with something?"

"It's no trouble. A little work would do me good."

She motioned and led the way back through an area that had been cleared on the floor. Behind the shop, a small, open-topped trailer was loaded down with stone and concrete garden decorations of various fantastic creatures. "We need to get these off the trailer and put them in that open area. Some customers have been asking for them, so I figured I could get a few. How're you doing?"

"Bit of a whirlwind. Went into a pub, turned out I was expected," she says as she starts unloading the trailer.

"You get used to the weird and unusual after a while," Allison said, picking up one of the smaller pieces and moving it herself. "She spoke well of you on the phone. Said she thought you were a good fit and it looks like she was right."

"For all I know, she just wanted some furniture moved," she smirks.

"If that's the sort of work you're interested in," she says with a laugh, "I think I know a guy."

"I wouldn't turn it down," she shrugs. "Money's money. I'm a bit handier with a wrench, though."

"Are you now?" Allison said thoughtfully. "I know of a few of us that could use help in that department. This old rust bucket," she gestured at the truck attached to the trailer, "is badly in need of some maintenance."

"Had to be, to keep my bike on the road as long as I have. I could take a look once things calm down a bit."

"I would appreciate it. I'm no good with that sort of stuff. There's actually a fair amount of trade that goes on among the members of the pack. I think Tereza actually makes her living on favors. The restaurant she lives over her owes her for convincing a ghost that was haunting them to leave."

"Not bad if you like curry."

"Of course, the way she makes it sound she's the strange one of the bunch."

Allison paused to regard the stone dragon she'd just set down. "We all see spirits and ghosts, but she... understands them. Almost *knows* them, if that makes sense. Grandmother Charlotte says its been years since she's seen that connection between a werewolf and the spirits and the last one she did see was driven mad by the experience."

"...and they're afraid it will happen again."

"So far, so good, but yes, they are. That's why we use her as our screener. Helps keep her grounded and keeps her from getting lost. Or at least that's the hope."

"...well, no pressure there, aye?"

"We're a pack. We would all lose something if something happened to her, the same as if we lost anyone else in the pack. Her risks are just different than most."

"Just have to make sure that doesn't happen," she sighs.

"We wouldn't want to lose you either," she said, reaching out to rest a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Not really the point, aye?"

"Only just met her, so I'm still... processing, and all."

"Let me show you what I do when I'm processing," she said, moving to the front of the store and moving one of the benches next to one of the planters. She motioned for Sam to sit, offering her a pair of pruning shears.

"This is going to be some bloody zen thing, isn't it?" She asks, taking the shears and sitting down.

"Psh, zen wishes it was this good," she said. She motioned to the plant in front of Sam, "See the dead bits? Trim those off. Just focus on finding and trimming those." She took a step back.

"Seems like another way to get free chores done," she smirks, but starts doing exactly that.

Allison grabbed a bench of her own and sat down not far away. As she trimmed, she hummed softly. Whatever she was humming resonated with Sam, taking the edge off her wolf.

"...what is that tune?" She asks, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"Old folk tune, handed down in my family through the generations." Something about the way she said 'folk' gave the impression that she wasn't just referring to being English.

"...strange family you have, no offense."

"Indeed. You think acclimating to the condition as an adult is hard, try being born with it."

"At least it was normal for your family," she says, not managing to avoid sounding a little bitter.

"You try teaching a toddler not to bite when the toddler can pass on the curse," she said, shaking her head, "But I'm sorry. You still have family?"

"...aye. Not that they'd probably recognize me, these days."

"You've grown a bit since then."

"Smidge," she says with a frustrated huff, holding up her fingers for emphasis before returning to pruning.

"And I mean... you don't just stop caring as a result of becoming... different."

"If you had, you wouldn't have coped quite so well," she said. "It's a hard road to walk alone and you've managed it admirably."