<div class="floatright">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/3d/ca/a3/3dcaa335e8ade145b7fc757d5d6039fc.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Greggor Steppenwolfe<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Big old stuffy mansion<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Tennis shoes, jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket.  All expensive and designer.<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Beanie<br/><strong>Extra Information:</strong>PISSING CONTEST!<br/><br/>"I usually don't bother breaking ins.  I get invited.  You know... actually being wanted."  Yeah, Beanie definitely was rubbing him the wrong way.  He watched as the kid walked away, picking up a large rock, and tried throwing another barb at him.  "I'm guessing  you're not used to people being waiting on the other side of that window and wanting to invite you in?"<br/><br/>A moment later that rock was in his hand.  It was a dare.  A test.  The rock-based equivalent of a handshake where they just kept squeezing until someone broke.  His eyes narrowed somewhere as they both just... waited, the rock in his hand.  There was glaring between the two of them.  It moved beyond a dare, to an outright threat.  And there was no way he was going to let this... mediocre<em>Beta</em>intimidate him?  Fuck that shit.  he was the Alpha around here, damnit.  His hand tightened on the rock, ready to drag it out of his hand.  As far as he was concerned, it was that commitment to the action, calling beanie's bluff, when the kid flicked compartment, showing off the key.  Mind games.  Worming his way out of his little challenge.  Typical.<br/><br/>It took everything Gregg had not to lash out and wipe the smug look and chuckle from his face.  The only reason he didn't was because the twit seemed too sure of himself and the fact that he could get the house open to realize that he just barked up the wrong tree.  He stepped back, let the kid open the door... and just kept himself from being coiled like an animal ready to pounce.<br/>