SIGMUND: Sigmund didn't mind doing things like this. In fact, he rather liked all of the energy he could find on the college campus, especially among the freshman class because everything was new and exciting to them. In the large auditorium, Sigmund had his table set up, information about the newspaper he worked for and even a little poster about the different uses for a journalism degree. It was nice to feel normal, rather than dealing with pack issues.

BRENNAN: Brennan slunk into the room, his regulation sticky nametag stuck to the bottom of his shirt instead of the top where it belonged. He tried to hide in the middle of the pack of freshmen he came in with but they were all so eager to see everything, they quickly dispersed and left him standing there near Sigmund's table. Pulling his sidekick out, he went over to lean against the wall and text message his girlfriend until he figured he'd been there long enough that he could leave.

SIGMUND: A few students hit Sigmund's table first and he gave them the schpiel he'd practiced. They seem interested enough and he was glad to have helped them. Truely, he loved his job because it allowed him to immerse himself in the human world. He didn't hate being a werewolf, he was born one, but he had a profound respect for humans, a fascination with them and their lives. When a lull came to his booth, his eyes flicked around the auditorium, examining the people in it. He liked trying to read body language, like some modern day anthropologist, collecting data on a peculiar tribe. When he saw Brennan, it was easy to see that the kid didn't want to be here. Getting up, Sigmund headed toward him. "Hey, it's a shame to waste all this, you know. Unless you were born to do something?" Folding his arms over his chest, he leaned against the wall amiably. "Got a job lined up already?"

BRENNAN: "Uh...what?" Brennan's ears turned bright red as he realized he'd not only been noticed but caught. "No...I, um," he stammered, shrugging his shoulders. "My counselor made me come to this. I don't know what I want to do but I don't think that running around with a bunch of freshmen is going to help," he said , kind of looking Sigmund up and down. Who was this guy to think he could just come over here and start interrogating him? "Im just taking a bunch of different classes. I work too..." Everyone always assumed he was lazy just because he hadn't picked a major.

SIGMUND: "You're not a freshman?" Sigmund had assumed the kid was and he made a curious face. His eyes didn't have to move much to take the whole of Brennan in. Mostly, his sense of smell was what told him the most about a person and he had to smile a little at the burst of embarassment that came off of him. "Where do you work?" He had no problem being nosy; it was in both of his job descriptions as a reporter and a pack leader.

BRENNAN: "No," Brennan scowled. "Do I really look eighteen, man?" He asked, looking Sigmund over again. He sighed then, shaking his head a little as if the older man had somehow committed some great offense by assuming he was a freshman. "And I work at the smoothie place in the mall," he added. "I'm the assistant manager." And he took full time hours at school as well.

SIGMUND: The scowl made Sigmund laugh a little and he shook his head. "I just didn't think they made upperclassmen come to these things. You must be pretty scattered for your counselor to be so worried." He supposed it was fair enough though, to be scattered in college. Sigmund had always known what he wanted to do when he got older, but it was much safer in the world of wolves to be the decisive sort. "You're not even going to pretend to be interested? The rebel thing been workin' out for you?"

BRENNAN: Looking a tad bit affronted, Brennan glanced down at the ground then, not really wanting to meet Sigmund's eyes. It wasn't that he fancied himself a rebel. He really just wanted to do his own thing without being harassed by everyone. So what if he didn't know what major to choose? Who said you had to graduate in exactly four years, right? He was so irritated by Sigmund's attitude that he decided he was allowed to have one right back. "Would you like to give me your little speech, man?" He asked, finally looking back up at him. "Would that make you feel better? Here, I'll even come stand over at your table and pretend to look interested at the materials." With that, he shoved off the wall and walked over to the booth, picking up one of the leaflets that Sigmund had laid out.

SIGMUND: Sigmund followed him, sitting back down in his spot. He didn't look perturbed by Brennan's attitude in the least, having grown accustomed to the various youthful tantrums people that age tended to throw. "I'm Sigmund Lewis." He said after a moment, wishing they could just start over again. "I was just striking up conversation and trying to be encouraging. But I'm sure you get plenty of that."

BRENNAN: Brennan sighed. It wasn't in his nature to be a total dick. He was just frustrated that he'd had to attend this function in the first place and had skipped a day of work to do so. That was $. that he was missing out on in favor of standing here, talking to this Sigmund Lewis. "I'm Brennan Anwyll," he finally said, holding out a hand in the older man's direction. "I'm not a loser. I don't do drugs. I'm not lazy. I just don't know what I want my major to be and I don't know why everyone is freaking out about it."

SIGMUND: "It's their job to freak out about it. What do your parents say?" He could have been a counselor with the amount of ease he found asking people vaguely personal questions. He was relaxed, leaning back in the chair and watching Brennan's reactions. Sigmund was there because he liked helping people, and if he could help one kid be able to follow their passion for journalism, then he considered himself completely successful.

BRENNAN: "My parents?" Brennan repeated. "I don't know what they say. I don't talk to him." His college education was being funded by a trust set up by his late grandfather. He hadn't any contact with his parents in years. His mother had passed away and his father was far too much of a workaholic at his job as the chief of staff at the hospital.

SIGMUND: Sigmund nodded. Even if he felt the beginnings of embarrassment from asking that question (given the answer) he didn't show it. He did, however, sit up a bit straighter. "Well, worse comes to worse, you'll just close your eyes and point at a major. No harm in that really. Most people don't even use their undergraduate majors."

BRENNAN: "Then why do they even have one?" Brennan asked, running a hand through his hair. "What's the point of getting a degree in something you won't use?" He lifted the paper a little higher, actually looking at it for a second to see what Sigmund was all about.

SIGMUND: It was his resume, typed out neatly and referencing a few awards he'd won in the field as well as his school history, and work history. He wanted kids to have an example of what a typical career path looked like. "Because humans like to categorize each other." He used the word 'humans' and it felt wrong on his lips because it made him seem more like an outsider. He moved on, hoping Brennan didn't think it was odd.

BRENNAN: Brennan just kind of looked at Sigmund and then continued to glance over the resume. "So...you're a journalist, huh? What kind of stories do you write? I took a few journalism classes but my professors said I was too longwinded and used too many details. I guess I just don't get to the point quick enough," he shrugged, glancing around at the other students whom Brennan deemed 'much younger' than himself.

SIGMUND: "Local stuff, education pieces, public interest." It was softcore journalism to be sure. Sigmund hadn't broken a big story in years and years, and sometimes that bothered him, but he knew his career didn't exactly come first these days. "Well at least you've narrowed your future job down by one. What sorts of things do you like? Other than smooties, I imagine."

BRENNAN: "I don't know what I like," Brennan shrugged. "I like history classes." But he didn't figure it was very smart to go for a history degree. What would he do with that? What would he do with any degree? He'd taken a few history classes but then, he'd taken a few classes in everything. "I like kids," he shrugged.

SIGMUND: Since it was clear how much Sigmund was focusing on Brennan, no one else deemed to bother them. "There's an archives position open at the paper. They need someone to input all of the old papers into the computer database. Sometimes I'll go down there and just read all of the old stories way back from the s." Sigmund was a bit of a nerd, but he figured if Brennan liked history, it was safe to share that with him.

BRENNAN: "Oh?" Brennan replied, wondering why Sigmund was telling him this. It wasn't like he had a ton of extra free time to devote to a second job, but then..."How much does it pay?" He asked, wondering if it paid more than his dollars an hour at the smoothie shop and how many hours a week it would be. Looking at old papers and reading old stories did sound pretty interesting, not that Brennan wanted to admit that.

SIGMUND: Sigmund had to think about it. He'd seen the job posted, and they'd really been trying to get someone in the position. Someone who was young enough to even care about computer technology. Their old archivist had quit, angrily storming out when it was announced the system was getting upgraded. "Well it's for a head of the department, so I figure around or an hour." It was a tough job, and Sigmund was sure there were many ins and outs to it he didn't understand, but it never seemed like horrible work.

BRENNAN: " or ...DOLLARS?" Brennan's jaw just kind of dropped after that. "That's...insane." He'd never had a job where he made more than he did right now. Eight dollars was pretty good for him, actually. He managed to pay half the rent of an apartment with his best friend and pay for other incidentals. The one thing good about the smoothie shop was all the free smoothies he wanted which meant he didn't have to worry about a lot of meals. "It sounds like a good job," he said finally, looking at Sigmund again. He didn't want to look too interested or enthused but it was hard to hide the fact that he was.

SIGMUND: Sigmund didn't think the smoothie place paid all that much, so he wasn't surprised when the wage ellicited such a response. "If you like history, it might at least be an interesting job. I think it's - hours a week though, would you have enough time with school?" Clearly Sigmund had brought the job up in hopes that it would interest Brennan and now his questions turned more fully in that direction.

BRENNAN: "Oh, yeah. School isn't hard for me," Brennan told him. He wasn't trying to brag or anything, just stating facts. Brennan was a really good bullshitter. He didn't care about making A's, he just cared about passing. And if he could make a B or a C in a class without putting forth much effort, he would do so. "I work at the smoothie shop that much," he offered, looking up at Sigmund again. The excitement was practically visible in his eyes.

SIGMUND: Liking very much that something he'd said sparked interest and excitement in Brennan, Sigmund looked a little triumphant. "Well, then you should apply. Call Rick." He scribbled down a number on a slip of paper. "And I'll tell him to expect your call." Sigmund wasn't the highest up on the ladder, or anything, but people liked him at the newspaper, and they listened to his opinion. A good word from him was worth a lot.

BRENNAN: "Oh...wow, really?" Brennan smiled, reaching out for the slip of paper. "Thanks, man...that's really great of you," he said, running his free hand through his hair. "I'll call him." He stuffed the paper safely into his front pocket and smiled a little more at Sigmund. "If I, um...if I can do anything for you, let me know," he said, feeling immediately stupid because really, what could he possibly do for Sigmund?

SIGMUND: "No, it's okay. If you get the job I'll probably be seeing you around the office anyway. Maybe I'll be in desperate need of a coffee someday." Had this been for selfish reasons? Well, as selfish as it was to enjoy hooking someone up with a nice job. When he could do something tangible for another person, he felt useful.

BRENNAN: "Yeah? Okay," Brennan nodded, looking around the room. He still didn't really feel like looking at any of the other booths or displays but he figured he ought to at least humor the person who could responsible for hooking him up with an amazing job. "I guess I'll go have a look around then," he said, holding his hand back out toward Sigmund to say goodbye for now.

SIGMUND: Sigmund nodded, waving back at him. Brennan seemed like an interesting kid, someone that either needed someone to take him under his wing, or completely be left alone. Even though Sigmund bet it was the later with this one, he'd still keep tabs on him.

BRENNAN: Brennan nodded again and took a few steps away, glancing at Sigmund one more time before turning his back completely and walking through the aisle of exhibits. There was something odd about Sigmund that made Brennan keep stealing glances at the older man. Finally shrugging it off, he headed away, attempting to put Sigmund out of his head for the time being.