In response to Namyria, "Ah, that you are correct, madame, but I prefer the old classic werewolf label, you get me?" Book paused as the events regarding the Dragon lady occurs. "Well then... in that case I'mma need some new clothes, ya know?" He glanced down at his buck-naked figure. With that he turned on his heels and sprinted through the giant gaping, hole in the far wall, at about twenty miles an hour. Up the stairs into his bedroom, he threw on a spare white, plain, t-shirt, some boot cut jeans, along with tan work boots, stained with mud. He also scurried through his inn table, searching for his lucky charm. "Ah ha, there you are!" He chuckled, after minutes of searching, he put on a necklace with a small box attached, containing a single, ornate, silver bullet. The first thing to ever harm his full form. And the only thing that could kill  him in a single shot. He practically flew down the stairs to catch up with the others. Hopefully he didn't take too long.