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Thorne shrugged, laughter clutching at his throat. "But where's the fun in that?" He teased, his expression wild. He looked every bit as entertained as if he'd actually caught the damn thing. "She'll do that regardless of whether I'm there or not. Our relationship practically dictates that I am always beneath the heel of her boot."

His grin was lazy and cat-like. "Yeah, it takes some getting used to again. At least most people here know one another. And I'll try. Are you leaving soon?" Not that he wouldn't see him again at home if he did. But Thorne still asked, pressing one hand to the side of his neck and snorting.

"You're very brave, sacrificing yourself like that." He cocked one hip to the side, dropping his hand and shrugging, palms up. "But I'm free of charge, and you know where to find me."

Aleksy wasn't out among the booths, because Aleksy's left arm--his painting arm, his dominant hand--was in a sling and there were stitches lavished in four crooked lines across his chest beneath his shirt. Technically he wasn't supposed to even be up and about, but sitting on a bench in a nice gallery was just about his speed. If he had a (small) glass of wine, it didn't really matter: he'd been done with antibiotics for like three days, and prided himself on not taking his painkillers unless the still-healing injuries were excruciating.

Anyway, he got out his phone to text Thorne: wt so wt r u doin? u ok?

"The fun of it is I get my boyfriend back in one piece." It was possible that Lucas was sulking, scowling at Thorne the best he could (it was really hard when the other was smiling). But, in true cheating form, Thorne touched his neck and the werewolf sighed beneath it, ghosting his hand over the point of contact.

The temporary lull and Leila's sudden introduction were enough to divert any lash of words he might have had for Thorne, pale eyes going wide and brightening at the introduction. "Leila?" His prosthetic hand reached for hers, and though he knew he wouldn't get the Pack sensation, she was one in the same to him and it showed in the quick form of his smile. "That would be -- fantastic, and with two men, I promise, no hetero. I'd love to sit and chat, but I can let my queirdo be, knowing he's in good hands. I must appease the Missus."

He meant Maeve, of course. "But, if you'd just -- " Lucas had moved, preparing to take that kiss from his boyfriend thank-you-very-much, but Thorne was moving away, leaving him with a slightly bewildered look. Trying to recover, he offered Leila a small smile of apology. "We'll take you up on that date and I'll make sure he doesn't bring his phone." Pale eyes flickered briefly towards Thorne and then back to the woman. "Til then, mm?"

Turning towards the booth, he made his way towards Maeve.

He was about halfway to the stall, glancing around for familiar faces --

-- and saw what was probably the very last one he thought he'd ever see. Certainly the last he wanted to see.

Lucas went rigid, his naturally dark skin going a little ashen, his distant look falling off his face completely. Pale eyes turned to Maeve - hoping to catch them, mouthing 's**t,' - and then looked back to a certain man. The friend. The family friend. He glanced towards Thorne but - he was busy with whoever he was on the phone with. Stomach falling, knowing he'd have to do something and not just stand there staring like an a**, he detoured from Maeve's booth and instead approached the familiar face.

"Hey," he remarked, holding his hands out to the side and palm up - no claws, no red eyes, please don't murder me - focused on Cas. "Can I talk to you?"

America nods at the chicken, suggests he buy it and then commission them to knit it a little sweater. For herself, she buys a very small one, with a paper mache raven's head and a little gingham dress. Of course she doesn't like them. But she kind does, all the same.

Handing Taym her canvas bag, full of both her purchases, her phone, and purse, America notices a small commotion and her eyes light up as she catches sight of something in the distance. Immediately she begins trying to lead him over to what is blatantly a kissing booth.

Her eyes followed Rhys' gaze, but she was equally distracted by the prospect of food.

"Oh really? Gyros are pretty great. Let's see what they have first, huh?" She gave Captain a little whistle to let him know they were moving and then went to stand in front of the cart, which was surrounded by a small clump of people. It was nice though, it gave them time to decide what they wanted.

"Anything pop out to you ...?" she asked.

"Yeah, but I'm not really super good at it yet... blame a level of paranoia that I will basically go do... whatever magical Hogwarts bullshit to connect to Cat... vision whatever and get a first hand detailed experience of -cat washing own butt-."

He gave a somewhat dramatic, if slightly limited cringe to demonstrate exactly how horrific this seemed like it could be from first person POV. First feline POV? Warging was... weird.

"There's only a couple of us anyway... I think."

"Also it gives me a hell of a headache if I'm not careful."

"I'll leave you to it cowboy," she said with her own wink back. Thorne was clearly in high demand, and she didn't want to be responsible for ruining a bet. He needed to do his job, after all.

Thus she was thrown back into the crowd, headed towards the band playing. Music had always been a safe space for her.