His anger did quell some as Jaks pressed himself to the wall, and proceeded to apologize. Good. At least he was aware that he'd fucked up. Not that it meant S'ric was going to up and forgive him. The sorry was because Jaks had been caught. The elf wasn't –sorry- he'd ran, just that S'ric had found him out. If he'd actually gotten away, he wouldn't feel the need to apologize at all. Oh, S'ric was angry. This also meant that he –knew- he'd have to keep a sharper eye on Jaks. What basic freedoms he typically allowed were now gone. If the elf couldn't handle being out and about with S'ric without running, then the odds he'd not have S'ric's attention were slim. The werewolf was even of a mind to just return back to his cabin. One bad move on someone else's part would probably result in him disemboweling them. The man was already unforgiving and impatient, what bit of apathy he had dissolved when Jaks had ran. He was just very clearly pissed.
The only thing that Jaks apology did was mean S'ric didn't beat the hell out of him here. His little elf seemed very well aware he'd fucked up, which was good only in that S'ric didn't need to beat that point into him. But the lesson was still not learned. Jaks did –not- run from S'ric unless the werewolf wanted him to. And this had not been one of those times.
S'ric had been ready to grab Jaks by his neck and draw the elf to his feet, but he stood of his own volition. Which meant S'ric wasted no time in quelling some of his anger. With a soft, dangerous growl, one hand fisted in Jaks' hair, jerked his head to the side to expose the expanse of his neck, where S'ric then bit. All in one fluid motion. One moment he's an arm's length away, the next he was pressing Jaks almost painfully to the wall, teeth sunk into his neck. And this time, Jaks did bleed. The coppery taste of blood rushed into S'ric's mouth, spiking his blood lust, but soothing some of his anger. Testament to just how displeased he was, S'ric didn't linger to taste more of Jaks. With his lips stained red, one of his long fingered hands gripped Jaks jaw and brought his eyes to S'ric's while the werewolf licked his lips. "Next time you run, I break one of your legs." S'ric didn't particularly like terribly maiming his favorite, but neither would he tolerate flagrant disobedience of his wishes. He stared at Jaks for a breath or so longer, fighting with his desire to teach Jaks his lesson here. Right in the ally. There was no shame when it came to S'ric. He'd have fucked Jaks in public if he really wished it. Only his annoyance at having to deal with the public usually prevented him from doing so. See, S'ric could be considerate.
The struggle between dragging Jaks back to the inn, so he could get the meeting over, and the very, very hot desire to hurt him here was almost visible in his eyes. It was probably the most expressive his eyes ever were, and neither course of action would bode well for the elf. Coming to a snap conclusion, S'ric's grip in his hair slid down to the back of his neck, where he then held Jaks. S'ric's fingers pressed into the muscle, not cutting off any real vital function, such as breathing, but letting Jaks be painfully aware that he had very good grip on him. His words were whispered softly, though were colder than either the snow Jaks had been sitting in, the wall at his back, and the bitter wind that cut through the ally. "We're going back to the inn. If you do –one- thing I do not like while there, then I'll drag your ass out in the snow and show you how much I can hurt you." He leaned a fraction closer to make his point. "This is your only warning."
S'ric then leaned away, though the vice like grip on Jaks neck was still there. And would be for the duration of their time in town. The werewolf's thumb was conveniently positioned over the bite, where the pressure of his hold had managed to staunch some of the bleeding from the wound... even if it increased the amount of pain. Without waiting for any sort of response, S'ric forcefully pulled Jaks with him, using the hand on his neck to direct the elf to walk slightly ahead, out of the ally, and back toward the inn. S'ric was still mad, and he'd take care of that once they were done here. The werewolf occasionally knew how to prioritize, so long as his little elf was going to behave. If that were not the case, then Jaks would learn quickly that S'ric not only had no modesty, but that the jist of those in Hyoite weren't going to do anything to help him. It was one thing to call some sort of authority on a kidnapper that could neither silence their victim fully nor control them in the way S'ric was Jaks now. It was another to call some sort of authority on a 6'8" man who could turn into a wolf of ungodly size who had –no- stipulations with disemboweling you in public.
As they made their way back through the snow, the few that were out and about made a point –not- to look at Jaks. None of their business, they didn't want to get involved. And so long as that was the case, S'ric would leave them alone. They held ho interest to him, unless he was really hungry. Which he wasn't.
Standing outside the inn was a slender, though tall elf leaning against the door. Not nearly as tall as S'ric, but there was definite height to him. He wore a coat that almost belonged to someone in a less frigid climate. It couldn't have been any thicker than most leather armor, and was just as stiff. But blindingly whiter, clashing brilliantly with the crop of true blue hair atop his head. The elf would've been handsome save for the scarring along most of the right side of his face. Only his lips had been spared, which were an appealing shade of azure, though paler. It almost looked as though he were a corpse in that his skin was very white, and his lips had taken on a blue tinge. But there was an undeniable life to his one good eye, which rivaled S'ric's in their intensity and cunning. Only where S'ric was all animalistic fury, this seemed the sort of man to cut your throat in a dark ally and take what he wanted. The eye on his damaged side was completely white, and clearly not functional. Not that it seemed to bother him. He uncrossed his arms as the pair approached, lips twisting in a very charming, seemingly genuine smile. "Saw you storm off..." he said by way of introductions, then seemed to take note that neither Jaks nor S'ric were too happy. To which he crossed his arms and frowned at Jaks. "Someone was bad, hmm?"
S'ric glanced at the snow elf before directing Jaks inside, and to the table that was miraculously empty. Maybe everyone seemed to think that was for the best. The conversation was strained for a moment until it seemed S'ric was under control. The snow elf followed them in like he was unaware S'ric was a pissed off, possessive werewolf.
