27th September, 8am. Prison Cell.

[therealpm]

*Peter paces the cell.  His legs ache from yesterday, but unlike his human form, his wolf form seems more inclined to walk it off rather than curl up in bed.

John had tried the dog food again this morning, and was once again rebuffed until he caved and brought down two packets of sausages, the potion and a bowl of fresh water.  Peter had tried to follow him out the door, whining that this cell was far too small for an adult wolf, but John clearly hadn't been paying attention as he'd nearly closed the damn thing on Peter's nose, leaving Peter to scratch forlornly at the wooden surface.*

Comments

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter's head whips round and almost manages to get from the desk to the door in a single leap. It's true that the wolf bit of him hasn't the foggiest what the patterns on paper mean, but the potion has done its work and his human side is very much in control, if not outwardly apparent and has been somewhat news-starved over the past month.

He puts his paws on the sill once more, shoving his nose at the bars.*

[lord-fowler.livejournal.com]

*Norman jumps back. In his defense it is quite a large wolf, and it moves very fast. Fortunately there is no one here to see his embarrassing lapse of courage except for Mandelson himself, and for once Mandelson can't make some snide remark about it. Norman takes a deep breath and tries to return his heartbeat to some more normal rate.*

Oh. You know what it is after all.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter tilts his head to the side.

'Of course, I'm a werewolf, not a moron.'

He waits patiently for Norman to push the newspaper through the bars.*

[lord-fowler.livejournal.com]

Oh, very well, then. Although I'm not sure how you'll turn the pages.

*He rolls the paper up again and pushes it through to Mandelson.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Using his front paws, he unrolls the paper carefully and reads the front page. Turning pages requires a little more balance, but after a few stumbles he manages without tearing the page or hitting his nose on the floor.*