David
Well, he'd done it, ain't he? He'd beaten the competition by a hair; but there it was. He was the new mayor of Briar Ridge — and suddenly, the weight of it all came crashing down on his shoulders. These were *His* People now. They was the ones gettin' picked off by rabid dogs every month. And it was his job to protect them; more than that, it was his job to make sure they were all being taken care of properly. 

Marianne and Charlie had their differences, sure. They'd just been running against each other for gods sake. But if not their policies, or which they shared a few, it was clear they got one thing in common — they cared about this town more than anything. Charlie could respect a strong woman— his mama had always been real strong and business-like, and he knew Marianne would've done a bang-up job if she'd gotten elected. Of course, that didn't mean he was about to hand over his title. 

Charlie felt like he had something to prove. To himself, to his family, and to Briar Ridge. And maybe, deep down... He wanted to make his father proud. 

Though he himself was the reason his father did not walk amongst them today, he still wanted to make him proud. He hoped he could see him, wherever he was now, and feel a sense of pride as Charlie got up that morning and buttoned himself up, tried to make himself look all presentable like, and headed out the door. 

He waved to people as he passed through town, but his eyes were set directly on the Wilburn house. A knot tightened in his stomach, but he swallowed it down deeper and cleared his throat. He'd knocked on doors and pitched shit for years; this was damn near no different. 

When he got to the door, he lifted a hand and hesitated before knocking. Hopefully, Marianne would be receptive to his offer. He didn't want her to feel badly about it— and he hoped she wasn't sore about her loss. He took his hat off as he waited, peering up at that big ol' house with curiosity.
Kathleen
He'd timed his arrival well, for Marianne had only just gotten back indoors. The day was a fine one, and she had taken it upon herself to take the backwoods path to where the headstones lay. The weeds this year were relentless, but no match for her practiced hand, and she had been up early to tend to her loved ones, pulling back briars until her palms were scratched to hell and back, but at least the roses growing over Ma's bones had room to breathe again, and the ivy climbing persistent as ever up the gown of the marbled Mother Mary had been tamed somewhat with pruning shears and patience. 

Marianne was only washing her hands of grass-stains and soil when the knock came at the door. Another visitor, still a rarity, something that surprised her each time one came. Just who might be coming to call in the morning remained a mystery right up until she opened the door, and her gaze landed upon no other than the shining new Mayor Cooper. Dressed smart as she was, she became painfully aware of the ragged hem of a dress she only wore for outdoor work, of the dirt under her nails, her tumbledown hair. In her stockinged-feet, for her muddied boots lay right beside the mat on the porch step, she half-stepped, half-slid backwards into the shadow of the kitchen. 

"Mister Cooper, sir," And then, "Hello, Charlie."

She'd a smile for him, despite it all. She resented him *None* For his win at the election - in her heart, she knew a man like Charlie, with his knowledge of the world at its widest at his disposal*And* His dear father's legacy to uphold, would do a grander job at leading than she ever would have. Who would place their trust in a woman like Marianne, a woman who was just now realising that the stockings she wore were entirely different shades of green and she hadn't even noticed, when they could place it in him? 

"I suppose I can be of some kind of assistance to you?"

She'd heard whispers that the new mayor would be testing some of the townsfolk with silver. Perhaps he had come to do just that. "Come in, won't you. Would you like a drink? I was just about to put on a pot of coffee."

||
David
He honestly didn't think too much on Marianne's state of dress. Clearly, he'd caught her at a bad time; he'd come unannounced and all, he couldn't fault her for not having her hair done up or her stockings in order. Besides, that didn't matter much, for what they were about to discuss. 

"I'm alright, honest, I won't be long with ya," He promised her. "Don't wanna keep you busy, away from... Whatever it is you were doin'," He flashed her a smile and leaned heavily on his cane, eyes searching for a seat before he opted for a kitchen chair nearby. He eased down with a groan and settled there, exhaling in a rush as he felt his nerves bundle up a moment. 

"Now..." She looked to Marianne and then the window. "I don't know if yer in the know, but I only beat you by one vote," He told her. "And hell, if it ain't just... Eatin' me up inside," Charlie chewed the inside of his cheek, looking over his glasses at her for a moment. "Clearly, people like ya. People wanted you to be mayor just as much as they wanted me. Nobody else got that many damn votes." He folded his hands together and cleared his throat. 

"Which is why I come 'round, askin' you if you want a job, so to speak." He tamped the end of his cane down into the floor a moment, eyes downcast as he thought about how to phrase it. 

"I'd like you t' be my vice mayor." He told her, lifting his gaze up again. "Usually, I'd say a town like this ain't need one, but... I think we're dealin' with a lot more than normal, won't ya say? And I need another head, another brain to help me out. And y'see, I'm s'posed to be silver testing— you can help me decide that, too. Let me know what ya hear, see... Collaborative. But it would be an official title, see." He cleared his throat. 

"But only if you want it. I ain't gonna... Force nothin', if you don't want it. And I ain't doin' it outta pity, neither. I think yer smart and got charisma, too. People like you." He nodded towards her. "It's only right."
Kathleen
"Oh, you see, you came at just the right moment. I just got back in from the garden, hence the... Well, all this." 

Marianne was smiling, and it was a genuine smile - a rarity, these days, but not entirely unheard of. Sure, things had been all dark like stormclouds for... Well, she didn't like to think of quite how long for, but there was light ahead. Real sunlight, like the one that drew the days longer with each and every one that passed by. Things would drag and sting and ache, as grief was wont to do, but she was in motion again, and she would not grind to a halt if she simply kept herself busy. 

And it seemed that Charlie wanted to keep her busy. 

*Vice mayor*, he said, from his seat at the table, and she couldn't help the look of surprise that crossed her face as he said it, so unexpected was the offer. Had it come from another, she might have turned with eyes aflame at the mention of it, with accusations of said pity at the tip of her tongue, but she took a look at his expression and read only honesty in it. She would not call forth questions of his intentions. He had done nothing to deserve that from her. 

"I can't say I disagree that you might be needing a little assistance," She admitted, still smiling, still fussing around the coffee - she would not take no for an answer, when it came to a drink, and surely Charlie would not begrudge her a few additional moments of company? It couldn't have been easy on him, taking the walk up here on that rough path with his leg, cane or no cane to assist. Even if he didn't drink it, she would make it, for she found it much easier to talk when her hands were kept busy, when her conversation partner couldn't hold her still enough to fix her with a gaze and read what might be behind her eyes. "While I'm not so sure you're right about - what was it you just said? Smart? Charismatic? I'm only a daydreamin' fool of a woman, Charlie. But I'd be honoured to be a right hand if you're quite sure you want me."
David
He was glad to see that Marianne seemed to be doing... Well for herself these days. The news of Francis had been awful, and he'd had his deepest sympathies for her, honest. It couldn't be easy; friend, family, or lover - losing someone was never an easy task to undertake. He wasn't even sure if she would say yes to taking on something just as massive - and he hoped that she didn't assume he was relegating her to *Assistant* But with a fancy title.

It seemed there was no saying no to coffee, and Charlie figured he could stay a little longer than he'd intended; he wasn't needed elsewhere for the time being anyhow. Being a mayor in Briar Ridge was a helluva lot easier than being one of a city - not like there was phones ringin' or people comin' to knock your door down every ten seconds. 

"C'mon now, don't be so damn modest," He said, his knuckles gently rapping the table. "You got a lot of votes fer a reason, Miss Wilburn," Charlie pointed out. "People like you. And besides... Ain't nothin' bad about daydreamin', and I don't think that makes you none more a fool than anybody else. I'm rightly sure I want you helpin' me call the shots 'round here." 

He straightened up a little. "Them silver tests is what's important. This first go-round; I'm already set on doin' me n' Alma. Prove to people we ain't like our Pa; no secrets. But this next case - I want us to have some meetin', y'know, see what we can do and all." He folded his hands on the table and let out a long breath. "I don't know what to do about these damn werewolves. Or the people who want 'em so adamantly dead."
Kathleen
He did not rise again and turn to leave, and she found herself grateful for it. Her cheeks turned a light shade of pink when he called out her modesty - did he truly believe his words, when he called her kind things and told her that people liked her enough to have placed her name among the votes? She wanted so badly to believe him, and had had a handful of experiences as of late that at least leaned towards supporting his claims. Perhaps she was not, after all, the island that she had come to believe herself to be, when it came to the people of Briar Ridge and her solitary home up on the hill. 

"Then it'd be an honour to accept your offer, Mister Mayor." She beamed, and took the water from the flame to pour them both coffee. The cups were brought to the table with milk and sugar, and with a smoothing-out of her skirt, she dropped to sit opposite him. Elbows upon the table and leaning forward, she listened. "It's a good call, to put yourselves first in the line of fire, if you'll excuse my crude phrasing. I'm sure there's still folks out there with the belief that you might just have followed in your dear Pa's footsteps." A soft sigh - for she had been fond of William Cooper. He had been a kind man when so many others were not. "If I'm to be your assistant, I'm sure there'll be a question of my... Status in good time, too, but I can assure you, I'm no more wolf than one of these here sugar-cubes."

To prove her point, she retrieved her locket from inside her blouse, and showed it to him, held out in her palm On the same chain hung Francis's rings, and she held those, too, as she had come to frequently for a comfort of sorts. "Silver as a dime, I promise you. I won't have anyone having doubts about that."

Another quiet moment as she put it away, and then - "We ought to help them, Charlie. It's no fault of theirs that they're in this awful way. I'm sure they don't mean the bloodshed... When a dog bites, it's 'cause he's afraid, not vicious."
David
Marianne Wilburn was a kind soul. She was gentle, she was understanding, empathetic. Charlie Cooper could be all those things too, but he found himself turning to darker corners these days. He found some level of sympathy with the wolves, because he had come to know them outside of their beastly forms. However, he had seen the looks on the faces of those who had lost far more - the silent devastation of Carina Templeton at the loss of the motherly figure, Mrs. Bigby. The agony in Dallas Sinclair's eyes as he lifted his sister's mangled body off the ground, her orphaned son wailing for his mother. 

The agony of losing his father to the curse in an entirely different way. A silence passed over them a moment before he could find the words to speak again. "I appreciate yer transparency," He said, nodding towards the silver locket in her palm. "If only the wolves could be like that. Then maybe we could help 'em. At this point, Miss Wilburn, I'm startin' to think they ain't want no help. What do we do 'bout that?" He asked. 

"And who can we trust? Ain't many we can." He pointed out, clearing his throat as he rapped his knuckles on the table again. He focused on the smell of coffee that idled in his senses pleasantly, trying to keep himself calm and collected. These things were visceral, they were *Real*. There had been so much blood. Far more than he ever would've liked to see. His eyes migrated to the rings around her neck. *Not even Francis,* The words were on the tip of his tongue.
Kathleen
"I should like to help them, Charlie. If we could perhaps find a way to make them feel... Safe. Welcomed, despite their curse. I don't like all this... Caging and trapping and making of silver-bullets," Marianne admitted, her voice soft as she looked down into her coffee cup, swirling the spoon, watching wisps of milk blend into ink-dark liquid until the two merged fully to form a light shade of brown. "I don't blame one of them for not asking for help, not when the - what is it you call it? The Coalition? - when the Coalition seeks to capture and destroy them if this cure doesn't come a-knocking at the door."

She had seen the cage at the foot of the hill, horrible iron-wrought thing that it was, and thought it an eyesore upon the town, and a threat to all who might put a foot wrong in the eyes of those who placed themselves in charge. But who was she to question it? Nothing but a lonely woman in a lonely house, all but begging anyone who happened to pass her porch steps to stay long enough for coffee. 

"If we could... If *Anyone* Could offer them some sort of sanctuary. A promise to protect their secrets, should they desire it. If I were one of them, I'd hide from anyone trying to kill me, too."

She thought of Francis - darling Francis, with claw-marks down his cheek and little pieces missing. The red of his coat, and the red of his blood soaked into the snow instead of inside him. The heat of his hand, the cold of the rings she now wore at her throat. Their worn-silver insides. The absence of them upon his gentle fingers as they had entwined with hers. For months, and months, and months.

She had loved a man, and a werewolf, and that same wolf-man had loved her until his dying breath, keeping his secret all the while until his soul had departed and she opened her eyes. If she looked harder, could she find more of them?

Would they find her touch, as Francis had, and would they know that they were safe behind her?

"Trust's not something guaranteed. You got to earn it from them, the same as they got to earn yours. You're a smarter man than I, Charlie. What can you, as their mayor, offer to them so that they might offer you their honesty in return?"

||
David
Marianne made good points; the werewolves were not keen to reveal themselves, to hand themselves in, for fear of the immediate persecution they could face. The coalition had made an example of April Abrams— she was a gentle woman but a murderous creature when turned, and they'd shot her down without a single thought about the woman inside of the beast. It was understandable, those were the *Rules* Of this whole thing— but why? And how could they stop the beasts without shooting to kill? 

"Yer askin' a whole lotta questions," He said, exhaling swiftly. "That I ain't sure I got the answers for quite yet. I don't know if there's much I can do for 'em without makin' a few people real mad." 

There were people in the coalition who thirsted for blood, much like the werewolves did. JD Monroe's sanity was slipping by the day, held back only by Dallas Sinclair's sturdy hand. But even that man sought vengeance for the murder of his sister, and did Charlie really blame him? Florian Barca and Freddie Lovejoy were hellbent on their crusade for the wolf that nearly ended Florian's life— and once again, Charlie couldn't help but see both sides of the coin. 

"The cage's been useful," He said after a second. "Keeps Shady in. Keeps him from hurtin' people or gettin' himself hurt. But cages are expensive," He said. "And take up a whole lotta time and space." Charlie pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"I could... Offer some kinda pardon," He mumbled. "Ain't nobody held responsible for their crimes in werewolf form when they're human," He suggested. "Much like Shady. Could offer 'em... Some kinda protection, I guess?"
Kathleen
Charlie Cooper, despite it all, seemed to look upon Marianne Wilburn as an equal. To be on a level footing with a man of such status was still an unfamiliar concept to her, but she welcomed it as she had welcomed him into her home. To make one's way into her inner circle was a simple process, and she regarded him with respect, with understanding. It appeared that he rewarded her that same understanding in return, for he listened to her words, turned them back upon her without confrontation. 

"I'm simply putting you into practice," She responded with an easy smile, when he spoke of *Questions* As though they were a foreign thing. "You're the mayor now, after all. I'm sure I won't be the last to ask you that which you don't have answers for. For what it's worth, I think you're already doing very well. You've to ask yourself the difficult quandaries, too - what's driving you now, Charlie? What do you want for our futures?"

She would not have held so strong in his position. It was, perhaps, a good thing that the townsfolk had chosen him over her. But she would help him, in any way she could. 

"I won't pretend to know what's been agreed with Mister Rooster, but if he's content to continue the arrangement, I see no reason to disrupt that. One wolf confined is one less to come breaking windows and causing bloodshed," She admitted softly. "If there's anything I can do when it comes to aiding in the expense of building such things as cages, all you've to do is let me know. As for a pardon... I think it's a wise thing to consider. If their actions are out of their control, it doesn't seem fair to hold them to trial for what they're unable to prevent. I'm sure the promise of their safety would be enough to draw out one or two more to you."

She paused for a moment, thinking, taking a delicate sip of her coffee. 

"I say one, two. Do you know how many there are? Truly the extent of what we're up against?"

She used *We* Without question. She and Charlie would be a team.
David
There was relief in him that Marianne was so ready to join the cause; to help him, to serve the town. She knew it couldn't be easy for her; these werewolves were a sensitive subject, after all. Of course, it was a situation that couldn't be ignored or swept under the rug, as much as Charlie would like to at times. This wasn't a simple pest control problem; these things were unfortunately just as much citizens of this town as the rest of them. These beasts were *His* People. 

"Guess we could talk about makin' sure anybody who decides to injure a werewolf citizen outside the full moon is tried on murder charges." He suggested. "Attempted or... Otherwise." He grimaced. "Might keep 'em at bay." Though he sincerely hoped that it never got to that point.

Now, the talk of how many werewolves- that was a tricky one. "Hard to say," He mumbled. "God knows, there could be ones we ain't seen yet. Hard to keep track, too. So many of 'em look the same, it's hard to say if this brown one 'n that one brown one are the same or different." He heaved a great sigh. "But I'd reckon at least four... Five, maybe." He looked into his cup with contemplation. 

"Could be more. Could be less. I hate how little we know." He hissed under his breath. "I figure we reconvene on it soon, though. "But I reckon another cage would be good for us, at the very least. You agree on that, Miss Wilburn?" He asked her. "Seems sturdy. Seems... To put up a good fight."