"I though being a werewolf kept you young?" Felicia spoke aloud, scowling at her reflection in the bathroom mirror."
"Keeps you healthy, not young." Jenna called from the bedroom where she was putting on her own make-up, there not being room for two in the bathroom. Felicia small apartment was described as 'compact and bijou' in the letting agent's brochure, but that's not the term Felicia generally used. 'Poky' more like. "Haven't you ever met Mikey?"
"The one with the bike?"
"No, that's Ronny. Mikey's the old guy."
"Yes, but I thought he... you know... got changed at that age."
"Gods, no. He became a wolf when he was seventeen. In the sixties."
"So we just age as normal?"
"Not exactly." Jenna poked her head through the door and for the first time Felicia notices the first blush of grey in her friend's auburn hair. "We grow old disgracefully." She reached forward, a pair of tweezers in her hand. "You just have to remember to pull out the whiskers when they hit three inches."