It did not take long for Damion to decide he wanted a drink. So he ruffled around, first searchungnthe cubbards, then the fridge. It only took him a few more moments to realize it was in his jacket pocket, and annoyingly so, it was a more then half empty bottle of whisky. At least he hoped it was whisky as he downed most of it. "Need to pick some more up..." he murmured to himself, trying to make sure he would not forget. His head turned the direction of the assassin as he heard a noise, though Damion said nothing.<br/><br/>His tensness dispite the quick drink suggested he had still a worry that the assassin was lethal. As he should be, and he decided not to let anyone else forget it either. "So, Mr prophet of my doom. May I ask about the people who employed you? Do they know you are a beast able to change at a moments thought? Do you know about it yourself? God I hope you do, because the pack seems to think you are a werewolf like us, you definitely smell like one for sure." Sitting down across from him in his chair, he took one last drink before screwing the cap on and setting it down next to his foot.<br/><br/>"One thing I am confused by, why did you bring normal ammunitions to try and kill me? Did you not notice what we are? Normal bullets able to bend in contact with our flesh. Doing no harm, or next to no harm upon entering our bodies? Did you honestly think we were not werewolves, because if that is the case you need a new nose. Unless you have only been after me and staking me out for but a short time." He rubbed his hands together. Leaning forward in readiness to speak to the man if he decided to reply.