While the nondescript panel van Tasha had secured was enchanted to remain comfortable even when the engine was off, she was questioning the spellcasting prowess of whoever had ensorceled it as it was growing stiflingly warm inside, especially with two people staking out a supposed werewolf den. The moon, just a day or two from being full, provided bright illumination that waxed and waned as thick clouds rushed past.
She exhaled sharply as she looked down at her wrist and saw that yet another hour had passed with no sign of anyone approaching this supposed hideout.
“Fucking hell,” she swore, reaching into her bag and withdrawing a metal flask and unscrewing it. “Another god damned, dead end.” She took a long pull. “I trust you won’t tattle, and might in fact join me?” she exhaled offering the flask to Reiner.