Jensen's dark eyes, nearly black in the darkness of the night, studied the ginger intently, and part of him knew that it wasn't just the hunter cornering his prey. There was still that unexplainable draw that he was feeling, the mysterious, deep, almost primitive feeling drawing him to Ian. "Easy Mate, just want to know how you got that scar," Jensen began, holding up one hand, palm towards the other man.

He started to pull his hand away from the gun but froze when he say Ian's eyes. The beautiful emerald pools were rapidly being over come by gold, the green shrinking to emerald flecks. Every muscle in Jensen's body tensed as his mind screamed Something's not right! His mocha eyes flitted rapidly over the situation, soaking up every detail until they landed on the full moon. Everything clicked in his head in that instant and he knew that he was staring at the werewolf that Tarrence had been talking about. But instead of pulling his gun and firing a silver bullet through Ian McLocke's head, like his job demanded, he froze up. For the first time in Jensen Black's career as a supernatural hunter, he froze at the kill, staring into those golden eyes.

Then the spell was broken as Ian spun and dove into the woods, disappearing into the underbrush. Jensen took off after him, not even sure what he planned to do when he caught him. For once he wasn't even thinking clearly or plotting the take down. No this time that primitive draw was calling the shots, short circuting his logical mind, and demanding that he follow Ian, find the handsome ginger. And then he caught a glimpse of him, not the bartender man, but the russet marked wolf. "Ian I don't want to hurt you," he called into the night, his deep voice booming. "I can help you; let me help you." He couldn't explain why he was chasing the werewolf through the woods, begging Ian to let him help him, when his logical brain tried to scream how dangerous this was. Jensen was at Ian's mercy here, the ginger knew these woods inside and out and pair that with the senses of a wolf, he could easily take Jensen out. And yet here the dark haired man was, pelting through the woods like a rookie hunter, begging the werewolf to let him help him.