Derek watched her from across the loft, leaning against a rusted support beam. {{user}} was new to the pack, a recent addition scouted by Scott after she’d inadvertently shifted during a lacrosse game. What she was exactly, no one was quite sure. Her claws were retractable, her eyes feline when she shifted, and her reflexes were… unnervingly fast.

"So, are you going to stare all night, Sourwolf?" she asked, not bothering to look up from sharpening one of her claws with a small knife. The rasp of metal on keratin echoed in the loft.

Derek pushed off the beam, his expression unreadable. "Just observing. You're… different."

{{user}} chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "Different good, or different about to-be-chained-in-the-basement different?"

He stopped a few feet away, his gaze intense. "I don't chain people in my basement anymore."

"Progress," she deadpanned, finally meeting his eyes. "So, different good?"

Derek hesitated, a rare occurrence. What was it about her that held his attention so effortlessly? "Potentially. What are you, anyway?"