Live and Learn

"I don't-- he didn't tell me." He sounds mildly let down by this fact, brows furrowing heavily, though possibly more so from the wound than his disappointment. Even if he never finds out the name, he can recognise the face.

Between grimaces and flinches he manages to keep a slight conversation. Le Chiffre is finding talking to be somewhat helpful in forgetting his issue, "What the hell are you doing out here anyway?"

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"Searching for leprechauns," she answers with a tone that gives no hint whether she's serious or not.

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And on that note, the black werewolf explodes from the foliage, charging at the two humans with a growling snarl.

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She whirls, and is running, not toward the wolf, but not to flee either;at a direction that'll take her away from the man she's trying to protect.
"Keep moving!" she shouts over her shoulder at Le Chiffre.

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He's shifting as fast as he can, which isn't all the fast, but the sight of the werewolf does have him quickening the pace considerably. If there wasn't fear in his eyes before, there is now, especially as it looks like he's suddenly been ditched. Not that he can blame her. He'd be the first person to ditch himself if he could run.

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The girl-of-sand is running? Perhaps she has decided that the prey is not worth the battle. Whatever the reason, the 'wolf cannot believe his good fortune.

With the challenger out of the way, he darts straight for Le Chiffre, a wolfish grin revealing the teeth in his muzzle.

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Appearances are deceiving. As for 'out of the way', she isn't yet. She needed time, however, and a certain distance between her and the human. Churning up a storm may look very impressive, but when you're trying NOT to catch someone else in it? There's certain problems, as well. A fierce wind cuts across the space between them, once the wolf's back is to her.

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There's the slight issue of being charged at by a werewolf that makes Le Chiffre completely ignorant to the true purpose behind Sooraya's running. Currently he's busy with stumbling away from the beast's approach to notice anything until the wind kicks up, and even then he doesn't stop to take more than a glance. Ask questions later. Run now.

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The black werewolf is nearly to Le Chiffre when the winds slams into his back. Completely unprepared for it, he stumbles and falls, one clawed hand striking out towards Le Chiffre. The 'wolf rolls then, making himself a moving target until he can get back on his feet and take out the interloper once and for all.

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She might also have hoped, that he'd chase her first, but he's not going to let himself fall for the 'decoy him away' tactic, it seems.

She's in human form for only a few seconds before she "disappears," the storm bearing down on the 'wolf. She won't hold back as she did the last time they met; can't afford to, and she knows it.

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The impact of claws to his back has him dropping to the ground with a pained snarl, unable to keep his balance steady after such contact. The second he hits the floor he's already flinching heavily, expecting another blow that never quite comes. He's not going to wait for it either, and as quick as he can hope for, he's making another struggle to his stand and get the hell away.

Disappearing dust ladies and werewolves are something to be watched at from a safe distance, not up close.

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The werewolf sees it coming and bolts, but even he can't outrun the wind. When he realizes it's going to catch up with him, he takes a deep breath and crouches, head protected as best he can.

He can't outrun the wind, but maybe he can outlast it long enough to finish Le Chiffre and perhaps the girl, too.

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Sooraya's changed, though, and grown harder.
She still can't know if this is one of the shapechangers who are friends, allies, are hers, to be protected, but plainly enough "he" meant to murder the human and not out of hunger or in answer to a threat.
So, while she may ask 'why' given opportunity, she won't do this gently.
Wind and burning, scouring sand floods over the 'wolf, heat and particles that grind through stone, wood, and yes, flesh or fur.

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He can't help but take a look, grabbing against a nearby tree for balance and a very brief pause to try and glimpse the action. There's a grim satisfaction to his features at whatever may happen to that 'wolf, and even if Le Chiffre's not to safety yet, he at least knows the beast is hopefully getting it's equal share of pain now.

Oh well, back to the escaping, and with a sharp puff on his inhaler, he shifts off again, still taking a glance to watch what he can. He really wants to see this.

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The werewolf curls in tighter on himself, for all the good it does him. The sand is slicing into his back and sides, laying his flesh open, scouring him down to the bone, and he isn't healing it up fast enough to do any good.

He's still holding his breath, but with the amount of damage being done he's losing his ability to think straight, to remember just why he's holding his breath and he exhales. The wind sweeps away the air and quite suddenly he can't draw a breath. He starts choking on his own throat, collapsing to the ground, head no longer protected. The sands slice into his muzzle and Le Chiffre is forgotten. All he knows is that he needs to eat something RIGHT NOW.

But it's a bit late for that. The pain, the damage, the sudden over-whelming hunger, the lack of air, everything adds up and the black werewolf passes out.

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She can see, and hear.
When the wolf drops to the ground, she pulls back. The storm still circles him, forming a barrier, but there's open space about him.
Dust watches, waits, lest this be a trick.
Seeing that it isn't, she draws back
and in
and then, she's standing there, some thirty feet away from
Ryan, her expression one of brief regret but still wary.

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It's an impressive sight, from what he saw of it, but it doesn't stop him from retreating. Only when he makes it to the tree line does he suddenly collapse back to the floor, panting heavily from the pain and exhaustion and the pure feeling of actually having made it. He's still alive (kind of) and for once he's thankful for it.

Lifting his head with some effort, he attempts a look over in the direct of where Sooraya and the werewolf had been, but he's not going to try moving back. He's finding the floor very comfortable right now.. Maybe when he's ready he'll get up.

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She watches long enough to confirm that the werewolf still breathes, before she turns away, walks over to where Le Chiffre's dropped. She offers an outstretched hand. "Staying out here probably isn't a good idea. He'll be healed by morning, if not sooner," she warns softly.

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He eyes the hand a moment before deciding to accept it, standing once more with a fair amount of effort and possibly more than a little help. She's done enough to be trusted by him, which is lucky really considering she just saved his life. And while he's not very skilled at showing gratitude, he's not frowning at her. And that's a good thing. "Who are you?"

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"Dust, of the X-Men." She smiles wryly. Doesn't expect him to know the name, no, but it's still an honest answer. "And you are?"

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"Name suits the ability, I suppose," he states with an eyebrow raise. Not that he's complaining about weird aliases or anything. And he'll let the X-Men thing pass this time. His geekyness is drowned out by bleeding. "Le Chiffre," he replies by way of introduction, peering off back into the woodlands with a hint of uncertainty.

"You uh.. say he's still alive?"

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She gets them headed toward the back door, all her senses still alert, watchful.
"Yes." She slants him a thoughtful look, but doesn't yet ask questions. "He is. Likely to be hungry when he wakes, too."

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If she's not going to ask questions, neither is he, though he really would like to know why a psycho like that should be left alive. Hypocritical, maybe. "Good, let him starve," he sneers with an untethered hatred. He's a lot cockier now he's back near the safety of the bar.

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Sooraya's silent as they get closer to the door.
Finally she looks right at him. "You were lucky tonight. I get the impression you're smart enough to know that luck runs out, yes?" she asks quietly. "And if you didn't know-- The full moon has two nights to run."

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