Hendrix’s ear flicked first.

Then the noise hit him.

He didn’t even lift his head right away, just lay there, one eye cracking open as the echo of frustrated screeching bounced off the old stone. A beat passed. Then another.

And then—

A low, amused chuckle rumbled out of his chest.

Well ain’t that a bloody sound… he muttered, finally hauling his head up to look. His gaze landed on the scene…small prey, gone. One pissed off wolf. Dust still settling from that sad excuse of a strike. Hendrix huffed out a laugh, pushing himself up onto his elbows, clearly entertained.

Oi, he called lazily, voice carrying easy through the ruins. You tryin’ to catch it or scare off everythin’ within a mile, mate? His tail gave a slow, lazy thump against the stone as he watched Lucy kick up dirt like a tantrum. ‘Cause I’ll tell ya right now, The Garou went on, grin creeping wider, you ain’t catchin’ shit screamin’ like a koala in heat. He stretched then, slow and deliberate, before rising fully to his feet and sauntering a few steps closer—unhurried, confident. Mismatched eyes flicked briefly to the crack where the mouse had vanished, then back to Lucy.