Sleeping in late was an indulgence that the Black Thorn clan constantly granted itself, and usually, their tall blonde Oba was no different from the rest. Rest could be a valued commodity. Sometimes, their lives were too dangerous to allow for many hours of consecutive shut-eye or the simple lounging around doing jack shit that they loved so much. Passing out for too long could get you killed. One of the deciding factors that had gone into Regan's choice to claim a set territory inside a city like Rome was because a certain relative safety came along with having one's own area to police, where nothing went on beneath their noises without their knowledge. Her clan could lay their heads on whatever surface they wanted inside the neighborhood and not have to worry about being disturbed by unexpected bombings or having their throat slit while they were vulnerable, lost deep in their dreams.

It wasn't as though Regan didn't want to take advantage of this freedom. On the contrary -- there were still many days where noon could creep up on Meat and find her still inside her trailer, stretched out on top of the rumpled mess of sheets covering her bunk, perfectly happy to let business wait until she felt like stirring enough to greet the world outside the caravan and not a moment sooner. Not every day, however. Kyan's messages to her about the snake leader and the hyena who had vandalized their home had been yet another unsettling reminder that claiming territory did not mean that it was automatically safe by association. They still had a lot to do in order to not only establish their place in Rome's supernatural hierarchy, but maintain said position against any threats they encountered. The clan was a long way from being able to sleep comfortably in their beds. Of course, Regan wasn't exactly fearing for her life yet either. She was naturally cautious, fully aware that she was trying this for the first time and had no real notion of how challenging the task of ahead of her might be, but she was a very confident leader and had no qualms about her ability to adjust as necessary. There was no such thing as impossible to Regan Flanagan. She was going to grab this city's balls in her long-fingered hand and squeeze if that was what it took to make a statement.

That didn't explain why she was having trouble sleeping in some days, nor why she would take to the streets on her motorbike and cruise through the city instead of remaining oblivious and comfortable in her bed. Tourism and business made the central parts of Rome very busy very early on in the day, so sometimes she would start before dawn, riding on the last fumes of her adrenaline-loaded nocturnal activities through almost abandoned squares and over cobblestones before the vendors began to set up and clog the streets with traffic. It gave her time to think and time to get a feel for the city. She was courteous of others' territory, skirting the areas where she naturally felt her hackles rise, and she always headed out to the countryside when the sun began to climb. It was during one of these long rides that the wolf Ulfric picked the time to come visit their establishment and leave her a vague but pointed (literally, from the gouge in her trailer's door) message. When she'd peeled into the back lot at last, sometime around late afternoon, Kyan had been waiting for her with a full report.

She sat at one of the back tables in Meat with her boots propped up on the bench, unequivocally leaving no room for anyone else to land their asses anywhere near her, with the Ulfric's note in one hand and his knife in the other. Twisting the tip idly against the table's surface, her sharp grey eyes scanned across the words slowly again and again, the Oba unwilling to rush her decision. Trying to divine what this would mean for the clan. A well-established wolf pack leader had a business proposition for them, did he? Business was always mutually beneficial. As would be someone who had a solid grasp on the internal politics of the area. He could be as much of a valuable source of information for the hyenas as the hyenas could be for him, whether or not he realized it. The problem with alliances were that they always caused problems. Who knew if the powerful leader of the snakes loved or hated this Ulfric? Who would she rather have as an ally and business partner, and who would she rather risk offending?

All things she would have to find out, and soon to avoid insulting him by letting her response to his proposal expire...but not until she'd had a few good Irish beers. Some things simply could not be done without proper preparation.

And no self-respecting hyena would be caught dead jumping eagerly at the beck and call of any other creature, no matter how powerful. Rome would soon learn what dealing with a real hyena clan meant.