“Ain’t this place somethin’?” Roscoe said, pointing to a seven-foot-tall skeletal effigy in the center of a roundabout.
“It sure is,” I replied, trying not to seem put-off by the haunting atmosphere. “Where are all the supposed werewolves?”
“You don’t smell ’em?”
I glared at Roscoe.
“Really? Most half-turns can at least smell other werewolves.” He scratched the messy mane on top of his head. “I don’t remember much from when I was half-turn. Maybe you can only smell werewolves when yer really pent up.” Roscoe gave me a sniff. “Half-turns give off a skunky smell when they need to be fucked. Sometimes you smell like really dank weed.”
“What?” I sniffed my armpits. “Oh my God, are you for real? Have I stunk this whole time?”
“I just said you smelled good.”
“You said I smelled skunky!” I took off my shirt and held it to my nose but couldn’t smell anything aside from laundry detergent. “Do I need to take more showers?”
Roscoe wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me into him. “It’s a good smell, dude. It drives werewolves crazy.”
“Do I stink now?”
He laughed. “Yer fine, jeez.”
I slipped back into my T-shirt. “This is humiliating.”
“Cody, you need to get used to smelling weird, and you can’t do nothin’ about it. It doesn’t get much better when you turn.” He held up an arm and leaned in, nearly engulfing my face in his armpit. I gagged and pushed him away.
“Jesus fuck! When’s the last time you bathed?”
“Swimming in the ocean count?”
“You haven’t been swimming in the ocean in about a week.”
He grinned, exposing a sharp tooth. “Well, there’s yer answer.”
My usual response to him being gross was to shake my head and groan, but I found I’d grown rather numb to it.
“That’s a good werewolf stink.” He stepped closer again. “Admit it. You love it, don’t you?”
When I’d first met Roscoe, I thought he smelled like dumpster juice mixed with wet dog, but there wassomethinggoing on that I was subconsciously aware of. Sometime between the night I’d changed and now, I had actually grown comfortable with his smell. It wasn’t a bouquet of roses by any means, but it kind of calmed me down.
Still, I really wanted him to start bathing more.
“You’re a pig.”
“Would ya look at that,” Roscoe said abruptly, pointing to the group of people on the other side of main street. There were three younger human men, two women and one half-turn. He was tall and covered in thicker black body hair. Like Adam, he had a small tail jutting from the waistband of his sweatpants and the body of a jock. “He looks popular.”
“He doesn’t look like he has a kuu. How’s he just allowed to hang out with humans?”
“This town probably has lots of werewolves at his beck and call. I’m sure he’s doin’ just fine keeping himself in check.”
“We’re just the sluttiest of sluts, aren’t we?”
“Yernot, obviously.”
“I guess I’m just weird then.”
“Being weird ain’t a bad thing, and neither is enjoying great sex with different people.”
“I guess I was just brought up differently. You know, with morals and self-control.”
