a secret silenced is a secret safe's Journal

A werewolf and a... Connor?
After finding a place to lay his head for at least a couple of days until all of the auditions he'd scheduled cleared up some, Oz figured it wouldn't hurt to make a run to get something to eat. He'd been living off of jerky and bottled water for the better part of a week, driving his trusty van across the desert from one place to another.

A friend of his from before he had left Sunnydale was the only person that was still in contact with the werewolf, and through him Oz was tracking down musicians near and far in order to find a group to play with. Among other things. The music scene was looking glum on the East Coast and it didn't seem to be picking up any the further west he drove. All in due time.

Pulling into the parking lot of the first place he saw, not even bothering to look at the name, Oz killed the engine and exited the van, heading for the entrance. A dark pair of aviator sunglasses made it possible for him to see without having to squint, and for a moment he paused at the Indian statue by the door. A nod was given to the inanimate object before he moved to pull open the door. "How."

( Socialization: Oz style. )