It is the sheer sweetness of the sugar perhaps, this single rare indulgence to which the often ambivalent man allows himself that perhaps sees his normally astute senses having missed the presence of a third Dark Hunter. Since his earliest days he has become accustomed to the stench of them and perhaps, to some extent, has become entirely too complacent towards it, the deal held between the Hunters of his own homeland and those of this city not nearly so steadfast as to offer him the same protection and yet, Frost in turn has never offered the services to which his end of this bargain has so entailed, refusing to tolerate something so entirely degrading. It was sickening really. To be a horse was one thing, a creature long regarded as a possession, something to be owned- yet why so many of his comrades seemed content to bow to that ideology he had little idea. Predators were revered and feared all at once, his species seemed entirely inclined to become pets, as if they truly had no sense of pride at all. Such thoughts, for now, are sent towards the back of his mind, the equine focusing instead upon guiding the sugar lumps towards his rather sizeable teeth, white gold form illuminated softly in the street lamps, the creature clearly entirely content to steal from the coffee house in this regard. His morals, after all, have always been questionable at the best of times- the equine having truly little time for the petty emotions of others in regards to anything, his nature entirely as cold as the moniker his Father had bestowed upon him as a child- one, ironically, which seemed to so well suit the snowy-hued stallion.

It is only when the soft voice of the Hunter erupts into the darkness that the equine seems to become entirely aware of him, chewing halted almost entirely, one ear turning atop his skull and amongst that luxuriant tangle of white gold mane that offers the barest view of the violet hued eyes beneath that roll towards the sound all the same- his own form remaining still as he seems to regard the older blonde man that wanders forward. Lose his figure? Well- someone thought they were quite the comedian now didn't they? A snort of sorts manages to pass through those ivory nostrils, the horse reaching for the sugar once more, only to find the Hunter reaching towards it, snatching away the vast majority of his stolen treat- leaving only two within his reach. One feathered hoof lifts abruptly upward only to be slammed down against the pavement outside with near enough force to shatter the weakened concrete, the stallions displeasure at having had his treat removed entirely clear as ears lace back against his handsome skull. He is a....disagreeable creature at the best of times, so many entirely unable to explain his poor temperament, even as a child, the man never truly able to handle others dictating his actions, entirely content to push against any authority not his own Alpha blood, after all, does not flow quietly. It is merely fortunate perhaps the snowy equine seems to hold little patience for his own mood, neck extended to snatch up the two remaining sugar cubes, despite his momentary display of poor manners, pulling the treats between his lips to be rewarded with that sugary sweetness once more before beginning to move away, determined to leave this Hunter and his coffee behind, having lost interest entirely- until a different offer is made.

It is the sudden procurement of the apple that sees the stallion's attention refocus, violet eyes resting upon it beneath that thick forelock of hair, ears pricked forward with evident interest once more, head remaining within the window still as the apple rolls into the palm of the Hunters hand. It is hardly the first time he has been offered such a bribe, eyes narrowed slightly in wary discord, tail lashing against his flanks in some moment of contemplation. He is hardly willing to admit that some part of himself desires the apple, an innate and instinctive part that drives him to reach towards it and yet while the distinctly equine side of his being is more then willing to take this offered prize, the human side is not. Either this Hunter had failed to recognise a Were when he saw one, else he was being deliberately derogatory, holding an apple towards him the way a farmer dangles a carrot in front of a mule, as if he was no more than some child's pet pony. It is this extended peace offering of sorts that sees the stallion offer the Hunter a second look of sorts, truly viewing them man now for the first time, head angled slightly to the left to better view the individual before him. He was hardly tall, in fact, for a man he seemed to be lacking height entirely, blue green eyes and a head of golden hair marking him as otherwise unremarkable and yet not wholly...unfamiliar. Where he may or may not have seen this other man before however is not truly his concern, the horse wavering still within the window. Unwilling, entirely, to subject himself to anything nearly so deeming as eating from a Hunter's hand, refusing to acknowledge that this particular individual had so far shown more skill in his calm, quiet actions then any other man had shown in years in the presence of his equine form, his mind at last seeming to settle on a comfortable alternative.

He reaches forward a final time, neck extended fully now into the coffee house, assured at least that this man was not nearly so stupid as to attempt to take advantage of this momentarily precarious position, head swinging suddenly to bump his muzzle into the side of the mans hand, sending the apple tumbling onto the table and out of his grip, only now content to reach for it, pulling it contentedly towards himself before biting down, a rumbling sound rolling within his chest- assured this Hunter has been rightly outsmarted, his treat achieved without having to do as the man so seemed to desire. After all Eating from a Hunters hand is far too....domestic for his liking, far too much like his previous companions who seemed willing to subject themselves to such ridiculous things. The apple takes little more than a moment or so to consume, muzzle lifted monetarily once more to shove roughly into the Hunters chest, entirely hard enough to send the man stumbling should he had been unprepared- merely seeking to assure himself this coffee making fellow was not concealing further apples, Frost seeing no reason to return to his human form, that change a difficult thing, taking a few moments for recovery, moments he is hardly willing to give an unknown Hunter lest the man take sudden offense towards him, choosing to remain in his more powerful form for now as one ear twists back again, the distant sounds of his companions growing all the more distant, their invitation still within his mind though in truth he saw little reason to indulge it save for those momentary threads of curiosity that wondered what had become of those whom he had failed to remain in contact with since the last battle atop the tundras.

The soft clop of unshod hooves against the pavement sees the Were's head withdrawn at last from the window, eyes turned once more in the direction his once-comrades had gone, gaze returning briefly towards the Hunter whom had denied him the sugar he had sought before striding suddenly towards the coffee shop door, halting expectantly outside it. Patience however, has never been well instilled within the frosted equine, one forefoot lifting suddenly to crash against the door, the Hunter evidently taking too long to open it, the equine clearly wanting.....something from him, seemingly determined to have him come outside.....