"As a matter of fact, that's my print you're casting right now."
The words hung in the air, and your heart rate quickened as you
realized exactly what he'd said.
"Very funny," you say, not needing some yokel messing with you. "Never
fucking mind."
"I'm not kidding, Stephanie. That's my print. I wasn't spying on
you...I was just heading to the river, and this is my normal route
there. This cabin's been abandoned for so long that curiosity got the
better of me."
You weren't buying it. He HAD to be fucking with you.
"Look asshole, enough's enough," you tell him.
"You had fettucine alfredo last night," he said. "I could smell the
sauce. I'm betting you had a salad...the only other thing I could
smell was vinegar."
You pause...he was right. How the hell could he have known? "What the
hell, are you going through my garbage?" you blurt out. "Are you
stalking me??"
"Stephanie," he said, holding his hands up in an almost defensive
gesture, "I'm ten feet away from you, and I can tell you use a lilac-
scented conditioner on your hair, and you use a lemon-flavored
toothpaste. This is NOT a joke."
You pause again...either he was VERY good at guessing your habits, or
he was the real deal. Alternatively, he simply had a freakishly acute
sense of smell naturally. "If, and I'm still not convinced that you're
a werewolf, I can assure you...if you're a werewolf, why the hell are
you telling me? Your species has stayed hidden for all of time."
"To be honest-" he begins