Igor used his closer eye to glance at the wolfman. Conrad was sitting in his normal chair at the kitchen table, sipping coffee.

“You’re up late,” Igor observed.

“And I lost a bet too,” Conrad grumbled.

“I’ve already put the breakfast leftovers away, but I dare say you wouldn’t mind eating them cold.”

The wolfman didn’t answer.

That troubled Igor. When it came to food, Conrad was usually very responsive. Most people were.

“Are you hungry?” Igor asked.

He sounded like someone approaching a grotesque form stapled to a wall and saying “is it alive?”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Conrad must not have heard his question.

“Has Emerra come down yet?” the wolfman asked.

Igor blew out a short breath of irritation. “Vasil dragged her off before breakfast. Again.” He started mumbling under his breath about lack of proper respect for food and respect in general.

It stopped when he heard a soft click…click…click…coming from the table.

“Conrad, your nails!”

The wolfman curled them into his palm. He kept them cut almost to the quick and tried to round them off with a file, but they were still, in the end, claws. They could do a lot of damage if he wasn’t careful. Tapping them on a hardwood table wasn’t a good idea.

“Sorry.”

“What on earth has gotten into you this morning?”

Conrad shook his head and stood up. Igor watched him leave, then went to pick up the coffee the wolfman had left on the table. It was cold.

The wolfman wandered down the long hall with his hands buried in his pockets. When he passed the front stairs, he turned and walked up to a closed door.

He hesitated for a few seconds, then knocked.

“Come in.”

Conrad opened the door and went inside.

“Good morning, Conrad.”

“Mr. Noctis, can I ask you something?”