Elizabeth
*Chances are, you don't know me, and I don't know you. That's fine. I want to deal with the wolves in town, and I need information.*

*I'm in the woods near the creek most Wednesdays. Look for the black hair and facial scars, and ask for Marsh.*

Rafael Aguilar Guerrero was, in some ways, a wolf in his own right - a hunter, a fighter, a marksman, a survivor. But before all of those things, he was an investigator, and a protector, and a savior. And the town had just been informed that they could not be protected by the one man who was supposed to protect them all. It made him feel... Small. Broken. Moreso than the scars on his body or the bandages around his heart did. One thing was for certain, though: he was going to get revenge on the people who had done this to him.

It chews at him something fierce: was the wolf who had run him down in the street his comrade in arms? Was... Was all of this for nothing? Was he to be betrayed over and over again by his superior officer?

Not again. Never again. He touches the locker on his neck - inside, he carries a picture of Johanna. Her death wouldn't be meaningless. He wouldn't let it. He would carry the weight of a murderer like a cross on his back for the rest of his life. Leaning against a wooden cane, still bruised and broken, at the risk of opening his own wounds again, he stumbles into the woods by the creek that Wednesday morning. He breathes slowly, heavily, trailed behind by his two loyal hounds, and approaches.

"*Oi,*" He calls out into the woods, to a figure across the creek. His voice is weaker, here; more haggard. Not the sweet voice of a brother or uncle he used on Blanca, and not the appreciative patient he was to Marianne. He would rip and tear through these woods if he had to. He would rot out any weed; he would imprison the devil. "Are you Marsh?"
Josefina
The woods had come to be a sort of hotspot for Charlie, though it wasn't by true choice. Aside from their initial investigation and the ear that was found, they have... Next to nothing. No new leads, no more information- just the corpse of a sheriff that they never even *Met*. It's tragic, of course, but there's more of those damn beasts out there, and even if they have one, there's bound to be more.

The notice, truthfully, had two purposes: either Charlie was going to get an ally, or they'd find someone stupid enough to try and fight them. They'd prefer an ally, but the frustration boiling in their stomach wouldn't mind popping a few shots off at one of those furred fucks.

Charlie had been poking around a few old bones with the barrel of their rifle, searching for something that'd be of use to Emery. Not that the butcher *Needed* More bones, but it was something better to do than simply being idle. When Rafael calls out, their head lifts, eyes immediately darting to his dogs before the man himself.

"...I am, yes." They sniff, slinging the rifle back over their shoulder. "Nice dogs, hope they don't try to bite my head off."

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Elizabeth
"They don't bite unless I tell them to." Rafael replied, matter-of-fact, free hand in his pocket. He looks at Charlie across the creek and gives them a once-over with a sigh. They were in better shape than he was, that was for sure, but he didn't know how much longer that was going to be true. Fools rushed in to help others, save others, and yet... With a purse of his lips, Rafael planted himself there, using the cane to keep him upright. He would survive this - all of Briar Ridge would. "But I'm not in the business of hurting anyone today, *Amigo.* Not after what our town dealt with on Tuesday."

A short whistle, and both dogs relaxed, beginning to play with one another in the creek far from the worry of either person standing here, sliding around on the ice as they chomped at some of the bubbles trapped under it. Slowly, Rafael began to move forward, crossing the ice with practiced silence until he made it over to where Charlie stood, extending the bandaged hand that was once in his pocket.

"Deputy Rafael Aguilar Guerrero," He introduced himself, gaze cold but voice warm, like a fire that was hollow on the inside. "I understand you're in the business of trying to continue the trend of putting down these beasts, *No?* Or perhaps I misunderstood the tone of your notice?"
Josefina
"Excuse my saying so, but you don't look well enough to hurt anyone for the next month or so, Deputy." Unthinking, Charlie takes Rafael's hand with their right, only to be met with an ache radiating from their chest. Their grip becomes *Too* Tight for a moment, their jaw going rigid, but Charlie tries to hide it with the motion of the handshake.

"Charlie Marsh, and you understood it just fine, Mister Guerrero. I've done some work on my own, but I don't have enough to show for it- aside from a severed ear." They tilt their head, gesturing to the rest of the woods with their chin as they drop their hand. "I won't assume that you have any more information than I do, but I *Will* Guess that we're out here for the same reason."

They glance down at Rafael's cane, then back up to his face. "Are you sure you want to be out here, though? Especially after Tuesday?"

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Elizabeth
He's aware of how wretched his injuries are - and he is aware of the pain that courses through his body as a result. He shouldn't be up and about, he knows this, but there is no one who can protect these people now that Sheriff Rowe is gone. Why is he so desperate to prove himself to these people, these people who barely know him in this way?

"I'd like to see that ear, *Amigue,*" Rafael says, extending his hand. Something about Charlie - and he's heard the rumors of Charlie's fights and survival mechanisms - makes Rafael believe they have the ear on them, especially given that this meeting was specifically for investigating and examining the werewolf investigations. 

"You'll have to forgive me," Rafael adds, his hand still outstretched with anticipation, "After the news of Sheriff Rowe's true nature, I have... Very little information, for obvious reasons. But I have the resources to launch a formal investigation... I'd like to do so soon." 

A pause - Rafael's hand trembles slightly, the muscle fatigued. "It doesn't matter to me if I'm injured. I've been through worse in the War. These people need someone they can trust - and I refuse to fail them. The ear, *Por favor.*"
Josefina
Rafael's words, both the request and the admission, make Charlie pause. True, they've always been wary of law enforcement, doubly so whilst in large cities, but Rafael was only *One man* In a town full of monsters. His insistence on protecting these people, even if it's ill advised, is... Familiar to Charlie. They feel the same way, even if it only truly concerns one person so far.

If it's a mistake to trust this broken exhausted man, then may one of those furred freaks strike them down now.

"There's nothing to forgive, Mister Guerrero- we're both here for the same reason." Charlie pulls the ear out of their coat pocket, doubled wrapped with scraps of fabric and a handkerchief, and hands it to him.

"I'm not sure how much you'll be able to do with this, though- I haven't found much yet myself."

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Kurt
The ear has been poorly preserved in its handkerchief wrappings, but its earlier... *Draining of fluids* May have helped to keep it on the fresher side of decomposition. Either that, or the forest had simply wanted the two humans to be able to examine the gory trophy. Who could ever understand what the forest wanted? It wasn't unheard of to find deer corpses perfectly untouched by scavengers. Some folks believed that was how the Not Deer start their second round at life though, and that it was best to leave such corpses alone immediately and to take a scalding hot bath as quick as you could. 

Thankfully, a severed ear was no threat to these two.

The ear itself was a light shade of brown. Freckles dusted the top of its rim like sprinkles. It had been *Ripped violently* From its owner, and still bore a couple of puncture marks. The ear was a normal size for an adult and did not appear to be pierced, though it was difficult to tell from the angle at which it had be wrenched from its home.
Elizabeth
Rafael immediately goes to cover his mouth and nose — he's seen such things in the war, but sure, he's never seen some kid take it out of their fucking pocket and show it off like the teacher is asking them to show and tell. Still, he approaches taking the thing and shifting it left and right. It surely is dead, unable to be seen back on — though, this is a lead.

"I'm going to have to take this into evidence, *Charlito,*" He says earnestly. With Sheriff Rowe gone, Rafael technically now holds the title — he just needs to get someone to sign the damnable paperwork. For now, though, he is *Acting Sheriff Rafael Aguilar Guerrero.* He has the authority to do such things — and come on, *Carrying around human flesh in your pocket?* That's more fucked up than shooting a man. At least, when you shoot a man, you can't carry it around.

He folds it back up into its wrappings, reaching into his messenger bag and, one-handed, slides the flesh into his bag. He grimaces, knowing there's nothing of real importance in there, but God, would he have killed for a paper bag.

"Tell me everything about how you found this ear. Start to finish — leave no details. If you leave something out on purpose, I'll have you tagged for accomplice to murder."
Josefina
Bile bites at the back of Charlie's throat when Rafael unravels the ear- they'd more or less had gotten used to the smell, as horrible as a thought that was, but it was worse whenever it was uncovered. It's not something a well-adjusted person would carry around, they know. This town has enough of it's own demons, though, that they can't truly find it in themselves to *Care.* Fucked up, yes, but at least they're not out there mauling fellow townsfolk with the changing of the moon.

"Are you batty? I didn't rip anyone's fucking ear off, *Deputy Guerrero.*" Charlie rolls their eyes, but continues, "There isn't much to tell, though. I found it just outside the ruins after October's full moon, sitting there plain as day. You should know that I did find fur coming from inside the ruins, too, but I haven't gotten much out of that either."

They wave a hand. "The ear is all yours, though, so go crazy."

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Elizabeth
Rafael scans their face for something - anything - that might hint that Charlie is lying to him. He puts the pieces together - fur, the ear, the ruins... It's the beginnings of a lead. If, perhaps, there was a physical manifestation of Rafael's mind working, perhaps it might look like cogs, turning and turning and pushing steam out of his ears until inevitably he created enough power for that lightbulb to go off, and —

*Oh.*

"Well, thank you, Charlie," Rafael nods, "Believe it or not, you've just advanced one of the leads I have, of which I am appreciative. Very much so. " He doesn't say much else outside of that, the bag on his arm psychologically heavier than it was before. This was the body part of one of their citizens - one of the people he promised he'd protect. Why does he feel like a knife has been stabbed into his gut again, as if the betrayal of Sheriff Rowe was not enough?

Idly, his other hand reaches up to hold his crucifix. 

"You should be getting on back, now-" He exhales, slowly, "-there's strange things in these woods. Men who look like monsters, coal haints... At least, those are the stories. The fact that you've had an *Ear* In your pocket for however long I'm sure is not helping you hide from being bait. Or a snack. Or... Whatever it is people who smell like death might be in comparison."

He shifts his weight, balancing it back out. "And I need to be getting back to the police station."
Josefina
He's a bit like a well, Charlie thinks: to give away bits of himself for the sake of others, then blaming himself when he starts to run dry. The well is never at fault for a lack of rain, and Rafael isn't at fault for the town's losses. Even if he believes it to be so, he's just *One man.*

"I know that there's dangerous things out here, but you seem to forget that I'm still looking for answers, Mister Guerrero." They cross their arms over their chest. "I'm not going anywhere yet, *Especially* When you look like a breeze away from keeling over. I'll walk you back."

Charlie has all the intimidating nature of a puffed up kitten, but there they stand, waiting for Rafael to say no.

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Raymond
"You'll be disappointed to find I don't have much, even at the police station," Rafael gestures with his free hand, almost nonchalantly, almost exhaustingly so. "That is to say, I do not have answers for you yet - but this... *Erm, flesh?* Will point me in the right direction. The information I find will be somewhat public when I find it, so you'll have some information then. *Lo siento,* I'm not intending to be difficult, but there are things that are done in certain orders to make the information I gather is correct."

He makes a little motion with his head, here, as if to say *What can you do?* Of course, Charlie seems adamant to be present — while he can't let them go snoop around in the police station with all of the evidence of various cases, the light amount of weaponry they have, and some of the stock resources to be distributed on nights of full moons — but Rafael has dealt with many a young person in his lifetime. Charlie reminds him of the younger boys in his regiment; ready, roaring, and looking for someone to take their frustration out on. He also remembers those boys' coffins, the sound of their mothers weeping over the unfairness of outliving their children.

_ _ 
If Charlie is not careful, they too will end up in a box, with no one to mourn them. Rafael does not intend to let that happen - and underneath those soft, empathetic eyes of his own exists someone, something who is looking for revenge. His wounds have taken away his self-sufficiency, in part; with the Sheriff being a werewolf, Rafael has no idea who could have been the mutt that ripped him to shreds. But he was a martyr, in a sense; hearing his screams, the town rushed to his aid, where they were able to stabilize him. (He remembers that young girl who sat at his bedside, who placed the wet rag on his head to stop the sweating that came with trying to heal one's body.

He exhales, slowly. "But, fine- you're welcome to come back with me. If only so that I know you actually *Go home.*" A snort, and he turns, beckoning for Charlie to follow.

He hoped the woods would let them get that far.