Frances was driving as her passengers Samantha and Samson sat quietly with their own collective thoughts. For Samson, a deputy that was shot by a now dead war criminal; he was wondering how he was going to break the news to his and France’s mother and father. With their mother dealing with pancreatic cancer and a possible short timeline; Samson was not relishing the thought of the were-greyhound being a mother hen to him. Their father on the other hand; Joseph, would just end up be his usual silent self. Despite the fact that he is communicating with Frances once again; Joseph’s relationship with Samson was never the greatest. Sure Samson complied with his father’s wishes and became a were-dog; Samson’s fursona being based off of an Alaskan malamute. Samson choosing to be a deputy instead of a carpenter made the former Amish patriarch cold and distant.
Whether it was the fact that he chose to disobey his father for the first time and choose his own path; or that he made the decision shortly after his sister became a were-cat and a full on lesbian. A sticking point that for a long time divided the Carter family apart; neither parent wanting to talk to Frances, only Samson choosing to remain in contact. Reasons he reveal last year to Frances when their mother had ovarian cancer. So when Frances insisted her older brother come home at least for dinner, the deputy now on medical leave could hardly refuse.
For Samantha, mayor pro-tem; her thoughts were mostly job related, only interrupted with the argument she had with Ben yesterday. Knowing that her political rival for the upcoming November election is Jack Crawford’s wife; her campaign manager a former elected councilor she had kicked out of office for influence peddling and bribery charges, Arnold Stuart Stevenson. A were-donkey that is incapable of speaking softly; finding out through Martin Stovall the wer-mer rep that he was hired on as campaign manager; Samantha couldn’t help but think the disgraced jack-ass was desperate for power, even if it was fleeting.
While she talked with Martin, who agree to be her campaign manager as she ran for mayor formally, once the current term she was asked to fill came to an end; Samantha and Frances were busy congratulating Martin and Melissa with the birth of their babies. Fraternal twins, fairly rare; more so with weres. A boy named Joshua and the girl named Dawn. Samantha understood that Melissa could not attend tomorrow’s picnic; giving birth to two children, the hospital staff wanted to make sure she had an adequate time to recover and ensure her babies left healthy. Martin however could not afford such luxury; he was a representative on the elder-council and as such had to attend. Yet the were-mer did state if he had a choice, he would stay next to Melissa helping her to feed their newborn babies.
Before leaving the hospital; Samantha had a good long talk with Martin in organizing a make-up picinic. Since the upcoming one is going to be hi-jacked with Kenya’s campaign announcement and the fact the town was under a were-alert; it made good sense to have a second one schedule. Opting to hold it on a Saturday; Samantha grumbled as Martin advised her it would also be the perfect opportunity to reveal her election platform. And an added benefit; hold the fireworks display that had to been postponed. Not due to the water shortage that most town folks have been talking to fool the men Frederick Parker brought into town; but the fact that a moderate rainfall is predicted for Monday evening, water and controlled explosives tend not to mix well.
As Frances’s pulled up to their home, Samantha’s last thought was of Ben; their adoptive son, a naturally born werewolf. Their son who was happy he got the job offer as a waiter at Grrrrrrr; Ben came home mad and upset that the offer was rescinded. Finding out that it was due to the shutdown order she gave the restaurant; Samantha wanted to explain to Ben that it was for the safety of the town. The were-alert, the coded messages on KPXX and KMCL; banning shifting for tomorrow’s picnic. Ben was too mad to want to listen as he stormed out of the house. Not knowing he spent the night under the stars with Alex; both weres would have been in trouble being in their fursonas despite not leaving the tent they set up.
Samantha wanted to talk to Ben when he came home earlier this morning; yet she was stopped when Frances made it clear to give the kid his space. Not happy with her life partner’s advice, Samantha had to put such thoughts aside when she answered the phone and finding out that Frances’s brother was shot.
“You think Ben is still home,” Samantha breaking the silence in the car as Frances turned the engine off.
“I told him,” Frances sighing; “that we would talk when we got home.”
Samantha huffs as she gets out of the car. With Frances and Samson following her inside; Samantha is soon hit by the smell of two werewolves’ passion. Frances and Samson detect the linger scent as well; Frances shaking her head as she knows both scents, Samson however says nothing as he walks to the kitchen to grab himself a soda. Opting not to follow the two were-cats upstairs as he sits and wait.
Frances and Samantha didn’t need to follow their noses; knowing were the smells were coming from as they open the door to Ben’s room. Seeing their adoptive son passed out in bed with Alex being spooned by him; it was not lost on either female what the two werewolves were doing. Seeing Ben still knotted in Alex’s backdoor as he subconsciously moves his paws all over Alex’s body; both Frances and Samantha close the door to Ben’s room and head back downstairs.
“So is Ben home,” Samson sipping his soda.
“Upstairs,” Frances sitting down; “asleep with his boyfriend Alex.
“Regardless with Alex being here,” Samantha grumbling; “Ben is not getting out of the talk we are going to have with him.”
“You want to wake up two sleeping werewolves just to have a fight,” Frances looking Samantha.
“I wouldn’t,” Samson responding; “let sleeping dogs lay as the saying goes.”
“You should know,” Samantha looking at Frances’s brother; his good arm resting on the table top while his other arm resting in a sling; “so stay out of this.”
“Samantha,” Frances sighing; “don’t take your frustrations out on my brother; “sure he can be a pain, but he does mean well.”
“Just tell him to keep his mouth shut,” Samantha pulling out food for supper from the fridge; “last thing I need is opinions from the peanut gallery.”
“I’m going to watch some t.v sis,” Samson getting up and not liking Samantha’s dirty looks; “however, if I had of know it was going to be a cold reception here, I would have had the hospital call mom. Her cream of potato and turnip soup has more love in it then the company here.”
“Perhaps you should of,” Samantha muttering; Frances giving her a withering stare as she heard what her life partner just said.