Lá Bealtaine [open thread, come one come all]

[Damon]

"I'm about as lifer as it gets." Reese wouldn't be mistaken to detect a hint of quiet pride there. "We live up north near the Wyoming border."

He hardly has to explain what he does up there. There are only so many options. Cattle rancher's one. Park ranger's another. Bizarre natureboy hippie secluding himself from civilization is a third ... but Calden just doesn't have that look to him, does he? Plus there's the fact that those cousins of his are all decked out in amusingly stereotypical cowboy gear, announcing their status as a rare and diminishing race so clearly that Calden doesn't have to.

So: cattleman, then. Which explains the rough hands; the sunbeaten, windburnt skin; the sturdy long-boned frame of a man who works primarily with his body and his hands. Rare in this day and age, really, though perhaps a little more common amongst the kin of werewolves. Still, compared to Reese and his sister, who are city folk from a city tribe, Calden is practically a different breed altogether. He picks his ale up again, takes a swig.

"What about you guys? Denver?"