"Then you've missed out, Vara, with this whole oil rubbing business.  There's a town a few days run to the south of here - lots of Old Times crap still sorta works and they've got a lot of it, and they do trade with scavs and rangers and outlaws, I guess, whoever's got something to trade.  There's a place... well, mostly girls, but there's also oil," he said, smiling in remembrance.  "And if the words<i>make love</i>are strange in your ears, you've also missed out on something.  Something more important.  But you're young.  Plenty of time to learn.'<br/><br/>He shook his head.  "No, no, we should put it on ourselves.  We're here to do a job, and we're in enemy territory."  At least, he was in enemy territory.  He stood up, turned away, and started to apply it.  He rubbed most of it into the obvious places - hair, underarms, groin - but spread some around everywhere.  The effect was clear.  As he started applying it, the scent he normally had - faint because of his bath, but still there - seemed to vanish entirely.  It wasn't normal.  Face to face with another werewolf, that person would have to be powerfully incurious not to notice anyone who had no scent at all.  Which is why he thought it was best not to be seen.  At a distance, a werewolf wouldn't notice anything too weird, but up close it wouldn't take long for questions to be raised.<br/><br/>And, of course, he kept himself turned away because he didn't want to be reminded of Vara.  He disliked being trapped by the physical - that attraction wasn't a switch that could be thrown on and off.  But it wasn't like that.<br/><br/>"We should get moving as soon as he can," he said, handing the jar back to her.  "Steal some clothes, get what we've come to get, and get gone.  Let's try to avoid as many of Blackvayne's werewolves as possible, and hope he doesn't have some sort of psychic tether on you.  If so... this could be a short mission."  He picked up his pistol, then, to carry it with him.