Twenty Four- Van Helsing

"Whew. Ugh. It's raining like the end of the world out there-Van Helsing?" The room they were sharing for the night was dark. Carl shook the water out of his cloak and hung it over a chair as soon as he stubbed his toe against it.

"Over here." Van Helsing's voice floated through the darkness from somewhere in the general vicinity of the window. Carl squinted myopically into the gloom.

"Light a candle or something, man, we can't all see in the dark."

His friend growled in exhasperation, sounding a little more animalistic than usual. A candle flickered into light on the little writing desk. Van Helsing was scribbling furiously with a slightly tattered looking quill.

"Still writing letters? Honestly, Van Helsing, you're like a giddy schoolgirl with a penpal sometimes." He busied himself with removing his boots and cleaning the mud off his person.

Van Helsing barked a quick laugh. "And you would be an expert on schoolgirls how...?" He turned and raised a sardonic eyebrow at the friar.

Carl blushed again. "I- ah- well- uh...stop that!" Van Helsing was laughing with his eyebrows. Carl hated when he did that.

"Don't worry, Carl, I'll keep your little secret from the Cardinal."

"What- but- oh, nevermind." He finished with his boots and moved to read over the monster hunter's shoulder. "Van Helsing, why does it smell like wet dog in here?" It did- it was faint, but there was a definite reek of wet dog in the room.

"Full moon tonight." He dipped his quill in ink and scribbled another line in his tight, spidery script.

"Oh. Well, that explains it, then, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does. If you're going to stand there and read over my shoulder, make yourself useful. Scratch."

Carl sighed but did as he was told. He technically wasn't a werewolf anymore, but the curse hadn't entirely left him; Van Helsing was always a little...canine around the full moon. It was more of an annoyance than anything else; sometimes Carl felt like he had a giant puppy for a partner. A giant puppy with access to dangerous weapons and the skills to use them, of course.

Honestly, if the man had a tail it would be wagging. Carl glared at the nearly illegible letter Van Helsing was writing and continued scratching behind the man's ears. "You spelled "purgatory" wrong."

Van Helsing growled and fixed his mistake. "Shut up and keep scratching."

Carl rolled his eyes. This was not what he signed up for when he joined the Holy Order! "Yes, Van Helsing." He kept scratching.