When Conner left the bar he sent Branston a text. Asking if he needed any help with the mess that he went to clean up. He didn’t think much of it when Branston didn’t reply back. The vampire could take care of himself had for the last fourteen hundred years. You did not live that long without know how to survive. He would call or text Conner if he needed a hand with whatever was going on. When he came back from his run in the woods he sent another text.<br/><br/>“Hey haven’t heard from you. U ok? Or did you pick a pretty young thing?” It wasn’t like Branston not to check in unless something had gone wrong or if he pick up a woman for the night . Conner figured it was the later. For some reason he could always sense when something bad happen to his long life friend. Though he could not explain why he could sense that. Conner showered, change for bed, had one last shot of scotch before sending one more text.<br/><br/>“Off to bed, txt me.” he could say why his concern for his friend was growing. Mostly cause that sense of him being in harm wasn’t there. It was something else. What Conner couldn’t say. He went to bed and slept poorly while keeping an ear out for his friend return. In the morning he called Branston cell.<br/><br/>“Don’t make me hunt your ass down and find you like I did in London. Call me.”  When he got Branston voice mail.Few centuries ago the wolf hunted his friend down when he went missing for a few days. Thinking his friend was in trouble.  Only to find the vampire with a maid in a very interesting position. Something he really didn’t want revisit. Not he was a prude, it just that he didn’t want to interrupt whatever Branston was doing. But at the same time he wanted to make sure his friend was okay.