Name: Jack Mason<br/>Tags: Marc, Danny, Ayr, Zed, Rutilus, Nick Voss, Demona<br/><br/>_____________<br/><br/>Although being brushed off, if only temporarily, by the Kitsune was a minor setback, Jack was content enough to simply let the gangbanger do his job. He had already caused enough mischief in the club, and he had at least two other major issues; The first was the smell of his newest succubus associate. Even across the room, he was honed in on the stench, mixing all the scents he could lust after. It was...Distracting, to say the least. Although he had enough willpower to overcome the sensual assault. Sadly, it made his second problem more problematic: His inner self, the Werewolf psyche, was Vying for control. It was egged on by the transformation, and the overbearing lust, and the stench of deprivation that the club reeked of. Ten years in the shithole prison had left him unprepared for such an overload of scents, feelings and desires. If he wasn't careful, his other Psyche would come to the fore: Which would probably result in a lot of blood, a lot of corpses and a lot of fucking.<br/><br/>Jack heard the voice of Nick Voss, the Satyr who he had noticed enter the club briefly. It beckoned him to take the lead: A smart decision, no matter how you looked at it. If it was a trap, Nick would have a hunk of Lycanthropic meat in front of him, if it were not: Assessing the situation from what was said to Jack. He nodded respectfully to the Satyr, respecting a man who knew how to respect the game.<br/><br/>Even as he walked up the steps to the VIP room, Jack could smell the scents of lust. It stank like a musk, hanging in the air. No where near as appealing as the forged, predatory scents of a Succubus, but enough to make the inner-wolf: who was still vying for control of him, howl out with lust fueled anticipation. He opened the door to see the sight, an Archon being worked over by what looked like a double of another woman. The image was more than a bit mystifying, but even as Jack checked out the woman, his eyes drifted towards the man: The Main attraction himself. Marc struck an interesting figure; Composed, completely in control, he emanated power and position, a good trait for one who intended to lead.  At the same time, he seemed approachably flawed. He seemed 'real'.<br/><br/>"I guess it's you to whom I owe my freedom ?" The Lycan directed his words at Marc, apparently able to ignore the scene to his left...Partially. His shaft had not been calm since he first caught a whiff of the demonic lust being that was Demona. Seeing and smelling and hearing a woman so close to him had the potential to drive him over the edge of control: At this point though, his honour kept him in line. He'd been given freedom from a sentence that would probably have lasted the entirety of his nigh-immortal life. Gauging the worth of the man who seemed interested in holding his leash was important. "I'm skeptical, but I'm certainly in your debt. Tell me what you need of me, and I'll do it."