[color=fff200][center][h1]Maks[/h1][/center][/color]

The morning seemed strained at first but as others trickled into the kitchen the mood began to lighten up. Leo and James had already departed for the basement to prepare the game meats when Maks finally noticed Mason standing silently by the sink. A nice and quiet fellow, a bit on the drear side, but an honest to goodness fellow nonetheless. Maks was one of the more recent arrivals to the pack, proceeding even many of the younger wolves, he just having immigrated to Canada just a few weeks prior. It was tough going at first, barely knowing the language, but Damien and his pack had been kind, and got him adjusted. That said Mason alone took quite a few days worth of goading and pestering through broken English to even illicit a token response. 

"Friend Mason, how are you goings on? Sleep of good?" Just then Maks' stomach rumbled despite -or maybe because of- the vodka bottle he had been nursing since James had departed for the basement. "God, I am of hungry, breakfast could not come fast enough, no?" He found himself laughing again. As his hunger grew and self-control eroded he started to rummage through the refrigerator. Of course there was very little, as the pack relied on caught game, which more often than not, led to Maks without any handy food. Fortunately he managed to root out some week old [i]tripe?[/i], and while raw it was only [i]slightly[/i] off making a nice light snack while he waited for breakfast to be served.
He started to bite into it, not as "moist" as he wanted, but it was chewy and went down easily enough. "And you friend Mason, would you like some?" He sloppily offered through a full mouth.  

As he lazily chewed through the tripe he looked on through the kitchen windows and to his delight saw Damien returning with the rest of the pack. He caught their eyes and gave a fantastic wave.

[@Crono][@MThePathSeeker]