The rich smell of the ocean wafting in over the campgrounds had found its' way through the windows of Charles's pickup truck, and he considered stopping on the dirt track and just... taking it all in. Many years ago, he had lived in eastern Washington, and he thought it was a great area, but that was until he met the ocean. This land was... beautiful, and that want, that need to be close to it had eventually united his allegiances with the pack who claimed the Aberdeen campgrounds.<br/><br/>He resisted the urge to stop and smell the area, allowing the fresh pine scent and the cold ocean breeze to fulfill him from within the truck's cabin. The truck jostled on the dirt road, making him bounce a bit in his seat, his movements only restricted by the belt wrapped tightly past his torso. Charles smiled, just thinking about it. He had enough money put away to buy a new truck, but he shared an affinity with this old, battered thing, one that words could not describe. The radio had never worked; he had found comfort in his own breath, and the sounds of the road about him.<br/><br/>The dirt track had smoothed out a bit as he entered the campground proper, and that's when Charles saw Rich and Talton going at it. At first, he was unsure of what was taking place between the two of them, but there were telltale signs of a fight waiting to happen. The tenseness of their muscles, and the sheer air of hostility that overwhelmed. He pulled in noisily beside the main hall, perhaps 20 feet from where the Alpha and Beta were close to brawling, and turned off the engine. He said nothing; if they wanted to acknowledge him, they would. He unclicked his seat belt and opened the door, before sliding out and shutting the door noisily. Charles leaned against the truck, watching, waiting.