[the question is quite certain and to the point, confidence in the use of the word that calls her by what she is. it tells wanda a lot, in the seconds that follow. it definitely isn't a guess, but the mark of someone who is more familiar with things that crawl in the shadows, the other side of the coin of their world. much like nocwich is cast in eternal darkness—with their werewolves and vampires—a foil to what it's like when they portal out and back into the sun-streaked factions during daytime.

wanda's eyes look at him instead curiously, tilting her head to the side, as if trying to figure out if its expertise born from curiosity or because he, too, encapsulates something similar.

she doesn't allow the question to go unanswered for long.]

Most people say that word like it's meant to be an insult. [it even earns him a small smile.] It's not how I'd introduce myself, though.

[he's nailed his assessment of her, but her more reticent nature is obvious. witch or not—powerful or not—she wants to be wanda, first and foremost. nevertheless, there's something intriguing about him that draws upon her curiosity.

but as quickly as sam may have been saved from the circumstances that drew wanda to him in the first place, a couple of burly individuals seem to be making their way through the crowd—two tall werewolves, bringing along their friend whom wanda enchanted prior. they stop to ask a question, and someone points towards them. sam's height is really doing them no favors here.]

Hey, you!

[—alright, so maybe wanda recognizes being as much at fault here as sam would be, but she'll be loathe to admit it just yet.]

I — think... we should go.