A Brief Interlude: Bridget and Hunter

[Bridget Simone]
[It’s cold. There’s more snow than even yesterday. It doesn’t matter. Chicagoans are hearty creatures to have to deal with such bitter wind and nasty weather. Bridget is a Canadian, so this weather is somewhat balmy. She’s perched on a park bench in winter gear, writing on some tableture.

She’s furiously scribbling, revising, entirely wrapped up in her work. It’s strange, really… considering her recent explosive mood swings. Right now, her hair is tossed by the wind, pulled as much as possible over to one side. She’s wearing what looks to be an expensive pair of jeans, a down coat that looks like she stole it from a department store. There’s still a thrift-find blue-and-black tartan print men’s scarf around her neck. Fingerless mittens allow her to write, but leave her fingers pink from windchap.

Streetside, cars speed through the plowed streets like they’ve forgotten how to drive. Some plainly don’t know how to navigate increment weather. Sludge sprays up onto mounds of snow piled onto sidewalks.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
Sarita’s 1961 Volkswagon Bus makes its way down the street, windows open and Kanye West’s “Runaway” is blasting out the window. Whether it’s because she actually likes it or just appreciates how much of a douchebag Kanye is…totally up for debate.

The van is a dusty orange color, and like any VW Bus worth owning has a little mural on the side. In Sarita’s case, it’s of a unicorn being ridden by a Boris Vallejo-style female warrior–complete with barely-there golden armor–beheading a dragon while galloping along a double rainbow in space. Basically, the most garish thing she could think of. Underneath, it bares the lines:

“You’re out of your mind.”
“That’s between me and my mind.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
As she drives along, she pauses in her singing along with Kanye–“Let’s have a toast for the douchebags…let’s have a toast for the assholes…” to notice Bridget. She grins a little bit, pulling the Bus along to the side of the street and killing the engine and (thankfully, to some) the CD deck. She slides out of the car, lighting up a hand-rolled cigarette as she comes around the car toward the kinfolk.

Hunter is jogging. Who the hell goes jogging in weather like this? Apparently he does. He’s wearing red sweats, grey hoodie pulled up over his head and beneath it all there are most likely thermals. I mean, there has to be right? How else can a man stay warm wearing cotton on a day like today? Well, the reason is Hunter Matthews isn’t a man. But he jogs just like one, darting down through the middle of Grant Park and weaving around it’s many paths and lanes.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t talk to anyone, doesn’t make eye contact with people and they don’t make eye contact with him. They step aside, they shuffle off the paths when they feel him coming towards them. They move out of seats when he’s running past… well all except that one.. that ones just..

“Bridget!” He says, panting a little and this time he does stop, sits down right next to her and drapes his elbows over the back of the bench. “Hows things?”

[Bridget Simone]
Someone breaks her funk. A body positions itself on the bench next to her, a man says her name, and immediately the girl scrambles to hide her notes. It takes her a few seconds before she knows what’s going on. The Canadian blinks, then turns to look at the Ahroun. He’s panting and asks her how she is.

Funny how they… basically have radar for kinfolk. The Canadian shrugs her shoulders.


[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She arches an eyebrow as Hunter sits down next to Bridget, and she smiles a bit. “Hola amigos.” She hops up onto the curb, taking a lean against a road sign. “How’s it hangin’?”

Um indeed Bridget, um indeed. But he has no time to reply to her straight away. His head tilts up to Sarita and he blinks a few times. Oh yes, her. He remembers her now from the Broho. They met briefly. “Yo.” He says, gives her a smile and a lazy salute.

Kinfolk sit, garou come running. It is the way of things.

“S’good.” He replies to Sarita, “W’bout’chu?”

[Bridget Simone]
“Just working,” she explains. “How are the two of you?”

She pushes her hair behind an ear, looks to Sarita. What the fuck is that van? It’s like…. some 80s music video Brought To You By: Mescaline.

“Hunter… I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I know you’re not the one I should be apologizing to, but Howard…. has a way of bringing out the worst in me.”

A beat.

“I think I’m going to stay far away. It’s a shame Caldera’s the only bunch of Fianna I can get near. I can’t… Hatchet is scary, and I can’t even find Rory.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She gives a little shrug, looking down the length of her smoke at the two. “M’all right. Got myself a task, so I’m all buzzing with proactivity.”

She looks over at Bridget. “Speaking of sorries, sorry about leaving you high and dry the last night. Nervous habit.”

Bridget has apologies, Sarita has apologies, Hunter looks like maybe he should apologise for something. He’s not entire sure what though, so he just stays quiet for a moment, eyes narrowing on Bridget to study her face. He could talk more about it but it can wait, and she can tell that he has something to say about the matter by the look he gets before turning that gaze on Sarita.

“What sorta’ task ya’ got?” He asks, genuinely curious.

[Bridget Simone]
High and dry…. Bridget giggles quietly, then slips her hands into her pockets, the tablet notebook shoved between herself and an arm.

“Yes, it was quite the meeting of Fangs. I didn’t really know what to do. Such a buzzkill, but I didn’t want to like… ruin whatever that thing was, so I just went to my room.”

Hunter seems like he has something to say, but Bridget doesn’t inquire.

“Yeah, what task?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Tracking down a family member. Name-a Gina.” She exhales a drag of smoke. “Heard her name from a couple of folks and someone said she was in a rough way last she was heard from a couple of months ago. That ain’t something I can let lie.”

“Gina? Shit.. sounds famil– oooh Gina.” He grins. “Tribe mate’mine names Winston hangs’out with her a lot I think. If I catch em I’ll make sure ta’ pass the message along.”

He frowns and looks at Bridget.

“That goes for Rory too, I’m sure she can be found if ya’ really wanna speak to her.”

[Bridget Simone]
“Oh, I remember her!” Bridget chimes in.

“She was the… the dancer? She did bellydancing, I think? We jammed out in the park a couple times right after I moved here, but I haven’t seen her in a long time.”

The Canadian perks up a bit.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“I’d appreciate that.” She smiles a little to Hunter. “I’ll never claim to be a model member of the Nation–though I do have the proper articulated parts–but fuck if I’m gonna leave one-a ours down and out.”

“Well shit ye, if she’s hangin’ out with Winston she musn’t be doin’ too fuckin’ good at all can tell ya’ that.”

He laughs, of course he can laugh about this. It isn’t his tribes kinfolk and in his tribes eyes she is probably doing just fine in life.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“I’m just glad I know someone who knows someone who knows her. So far what I heard was ‘Uhh, she lives in this generic area,’ which unfortunately isn’t as helpful as one might think.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Or ‘lived,’ I should say.”

[Bridget Simone]
Bridget shivers and says nothing, trying to conserve warmth.

“Oh she lives, saw her few days ago in this here very park. Didn’t seem too cheerful, but she didn’t seem like she was fuckin’ dyin’ of the plague or nuthin’.”

He stuffs his hand into the pocket of his sweats and pulls out a red sweat-band, chucks it on his head. He looks ridiculous.

“I’ll get in touch with Winston though, make sure everythin’s fine. You said you’re family?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
That brightens her expression considerably. The best she’d heard, Gina hadn’t been seen in months. “Yeah. In the general family line kinda way, not direct relation. How ’bout I give you my cell, you can pass it on?”

Her expression brightens, and Hunters brightens along with it. He didn’t know that she thought the kinfolk might be god damn dead, if he had he might have been quicker about telling her that he had seen her recently. He hadn’t noticed anything too off about the owlet when he had seen her, but she had been awfully quiet.

Then again, most owls are.

“Ye,” He says lazily and nods his head. “Ain’t got no phone on me though, you’ll have’ta write it down for me.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Sweet.” She holds up a finger to ask for a moment, and heads over to the VW Bus. The passenger door is open and she leans into it, half hanging out as she gets a piece of paper and scribbles on it.

He stretches while he waits, and not the athletic type of stretches. He lifts his arms over his head and yawns, mouth stretching wide while his whole torso tenses and then relaxes.

“Aaaaoahhhoooo” He says, then pats is mouth briefly. That felt good.

It’s only early evening, but Hunter Matthews looks like he could have been in bed hours ago. Garou live strange lives.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She comes back with a piece of paper with her phone number written on it, as well as a note:

“Gina — Got your name from locals. I’m Sarita, one of your kinswoman. Gimme a call when you can, I’d love to talk to you and see how you’re doing. Tribesmates gotta stick together. Love, S–”

She hands it over with a nod and smile. “You da Man.”

He takes the note, doesn’t even pretend to show it any privacy. He just blatantly reads it right in front of her. At least he’s honest. Hey, if he’s sending messages he wants to know what they say.

After he’s done he smiles, folds it in half and stuffs it into his pocket.

“No probs Sarita, that why you came into town? Lookin’ for Gina? Or other way round?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She doesn’t seem to mind that he read it. Hell, if she’d not wanted him to, she’d have sealed it up, or written it in invisible ink or the like. She smiles a bit and shakes her head.

“Naah, we actually came here more looking for a new place to hang our hat, get in on some action. I just heard about Gina couple times over the last week, and like I said, I ain’t one to leave brethren out in the cold.”

“Ah, I see’s.” And he nods his head a few times, pushes himself up off the chair. He takes a few deep breaths, stretching his right arm across his left shoulder while his eyes drop down to Bridget sitting on the bench.

“I’mma finish ma’ run.” He states, then when he’s finished stretching his arm he holds out his hand to Sarita. “Nice meetin’ ya again, hope Chicago treats ya’ well ye?”

[Bridget Simone]
Bridget also excuses herself, checking a new, nice-looking watch. “Yes, I have a lesson I have to teach in about a half hour. If I don’t start walking now, I won’t make it.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She nods. “Nice seeing you both. I’m sure I’ll see you around later.”

[Sceeeneee! Sorry have a one shot to do in under an hour and need to get some lunch thanks for the play!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
[[No worries. 🙂 Any play is good! Thanks for the scene.]]


Exploration Leads To Shower Wackiness

[Cordelia] She looks at her cautiously… but mostly, her expression just confused. Her eyebrows are knit together, then pushed upward. One eye is a little more open than the other, and her lips are pressed into a line. Her arms unfold and rest on her knees.

“Why… would… anyone..? Eh?”

[Hunter] “I ain’t done this before!” comes shouting back. A long pause ended by a sound from hunter that vaguely resembles shocked disgust.


[Patrick] When Patrick spots Bridget, he almost looks a touch startled. Or was that guilty? It’s something and it might occur to the Kinfolk that Howard has either spoken to, or Patrick knows of her time with his Alpha. He is quick enough however, to school away his expression into something far less pointedly aware and cants her a lop-sided, tired half-grin.

“Hey, Bridget.” He gestures at the bottle as he comes fully into the common area, glancing in passing at the Silver Fangs gossiping in a corner. He still wasn’t sure what to make of that tribe, honestly. “Drinking solo tonight?” Then, there’s a distinctly familiar squawking from the bathrooms, and Patrick’s eyebrows crawl toward his hairline.

“Uh,” Hold that thought. “Bridget, maybe you should wait.”

Then, repressing a smile, Patrick rubs the edge of his thumb over his eyebrow. Howard? Whatever you’re doing, finish up before you destroy the coping mechanisms of everyone living here.

[Kristiana Coleman] “Just. You know. People telling people that I’ve done things that I haven’t… That sort of thing.” She picks up a silky tank top, looking it over before tossing it in the opposite pile.

[Patrick] [Whatever. I can’t fucking keep up with you lot. Patrick is where ever he is, ignore that SF Kin. Or… don’t. Whatevs, man.]

[Bridget] It’s written on Patrick’s face. He knows, the bastard gossip hens!! Really, the feral kin couldn’t give a hair off Stag’s tail about who knows. She just doesn’t care. And the bathroom situation is just too intriguing for her to wait. Besides, she’s already near the door when he says something.

Pandora. Box. Open Sesame!

[Cordelia] “Kristiana,” her voice is stern, “is that a pointed comment or are you actually concerned?”


[Howard] Once Quinn turns off the shower head, whatever’s going on in the bathroom becomes considerably more audible to the rest of the floor. Even the kinswomen in Room 8, if their door is shut, are not spared. Howard is goddamn loud even when he’s calm and sitting still. Right now he’s neither.

“Look, man, you fuckin’ started this. Don’t pussy out on me now!”

[Quinn] “You need a better grip on his hip.” Compared to the squawks of the boys, Quinn’s voice practically floats out of the bathroom. “Here, put your hand here.”

[Hunter] “Put my hand WHERE?” Hunter whines. “And you shut up Howard, you started this. You practically begged me for it.”

[Bridget] A few steps into the bathroom provides no clues, so she follows the loud shouting until she finds the source.

“What the fuck is going on?” she asks loud enough to be heard.

[Kristiana Coleman] Cordelia can see the panic starting to seep in. “Why? Are people saying something? Did he tell people that we did something? Because we didn’t. I knew he was going to do that. Guys like that always do that. Oh my GAWD, what if Mattieu hears that we did something?!?” She wails, burying her face in a pile of Calvin Klein cardigans and Michael Kors sweaters.

[Howard] “You want me to keep beggin’ you? Christ you’re sick… here.

He says this, but then he clears his throat. There’s a rustling to accompany his speech.

Please Hunter Jesus I need you fuck!

[Cordelia] She stands up and sighs. Who would have thought her to play the older sister role. Who would of thought her to be the nurturing, somewhat protective type. Then again, she’s proven her metal recently. The young woman sits down beside Kristiana and she pats her on the shoulder. She notices panic, she notices a lot of things. The female pushes her glasses up.

“Calm down, it’s okay… breathe…”

She says.

“Did you know my sister’s a philodox?” she has a train of thought there.

[Quinn] A few steps into the bathroom, at least from where she’s entering, and Bridget gets nothing more than the benefit of the trio of voices echoing off the bathroom walls. If she steps in further, moves around the sinks in the center of the room, she still sees nothing.

Unless she looks down.

There are two, no three pairs of feet beneath one of the shower curtains. One set, which can’t be anyone’s other than Quinn’s, is bare and facing inward. There’s a sneakered foot, a booted one right along side it, facing out.

“Now you’ve got it. Howard, do you need a hand?” One of the bare feet shifts forward.

[Kristiana Coleman] “She is?” That doesn’t seem to make her feel any better.

[Hunter] “So help me howard, I’ll turn this fuckin’ car around.” He warns and then there’s a bit of silence followed by grunts. “Shit Howard, it’s tighter’n’a nuns holy place. Ugh, oh oh there I think–”

A huge sigh of relief and a slippery sound.

“DONE!” Triumphant, proud.

Silence, drip drip drip.


[Howard] [I don’t know where the hell Jacqui went but I’m giving her 15 minutes before I post again!]

[Cordelia] “She is,” she tells Kristiana, “and some people say that circular, adament denial… especially in the way you’re denying… doesn’t do well to prove the strength of one’s case. Your response is paranoid, and leads me to believe one of two things- one being that something did happen between you and your nameless mister and you are feeling the impact of buyers remorse… or you didn’t do anything, and you genuinely are afraid of what the perception of your feminine virtue will say about your family and will decrease your prospects of doing what you were sent to Chicago to do.”

A beat passes. She sighs and reaches over. The female runs her fingers through Kristiana’s hair. She sighs and relaxes. There’s a certain worth in what she says.

“If it is either of those possibilities, then it determines your next course of action.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She seems to be in a good mood as she opens the door and slides into the main room, a little grin as if she’s managed to amuse herself with some private thought. She’s shivering under her duster…the girl is used to warmer climates. Thus, the door is quickly shut and she shakes off the chill, rubbing her hands as she glances around.

[Patrick] [SORRY. TYPING.]

[Kristiana Coleman] She leans into Cordelia, sighing. “Is that not how you were raised? A Kin is worth more if they’re pure.” She chews on her bottom lip for a moment. “It seemed like a really good idea at the time.”

[Patrick] Patrick follows after Bridget, more out of expectant amusement than horror. He’s well acquainted to Howard’s tendency to pick, uh, public places to get amorous and can only trail behind with one arm over his chest, the other resting against his chin. Eventually, Bridget will come upon the three sets of feet sticking out from under a shower curtain.

Patrick rocks back on his heels a little.

Considers; then says in a carrying voice. “Should I get you three some Vaseline?”

[Cordelia] How was Cordelia raised? She keeps stroking the other young woman’s hair, and she thinks about this… she’s unsure of how she should act next. She looks down, and Cordelia exhales. Slowly, deeply, and she inhales through her nose. Takes in the air, “you need to define, for yourself, what you are worth and what purity is.”

If seemed like a really good idea at the time.
“Why? Did you want to?” she’s cautious with this question.

[Howard] Somewhere amongst all that noise there’s a sharp, histrionic noise that isn’t quite a scream and isn’t quite a moan. Coming from most of the other people in this building it would either be stoically muffled, or there would be little doubt that this was genuine pain being expressed.

DONE! Hunter says, and Howard can be heard panting under Patrick’s question.

“You’re such a bloody stoppered-up twat,” he says, sounding utterly indignant. “Don’t fuckin’ stop, fuck!

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She purses her lips to the left, eyes narrowing a bit. She’s seen all of the downstairs already, and nothing too exciting is going on…time to explore. She pauses a moment, trying to remember the directions she got on the tour of the upstairs, and then shrugs as she trots over to the stairs. They get ascended with every other step skipped.

[Kristiana Coleman] She looks around, slipping into French just to be sure the conversation stays private. “Vous ne pouvez pas dire à personne, Cordelia. Promets-moi. Si Mattiew découvre … Non pas que je pense qu’il me prend pour un compagnon, mais je voudrais au moins à la date de lui pendant un certain temps. Je ne veux pas qu’on sache que j’ai fait une erreur comme ça.”

[Hunter] There’s a pause and then a clinking as something falls down on the shower floor. It looks like a claw. “I swear ta’ god I’d put it back in if it weren’t such a fuckin’ hassle gettin’ it out.” He throws open the shower curtain and storms out leaving a bleeding Howard and a nearly naked Quinn.


[Patrick] Patrick watches the progress of the Bone Gnawer as he stalks out of the communal bathrooms, dropping his hand from his face and its adopted pose of nonchalance and tucking both hands into the pockets of his work clothing. Revealed with Hunter’s departure is a nearly nude Quinn and a bleeding and somewhat suggestively positioned Howard.

Patrick’s face forms itself into something of resigned bemusement.

He glances at Bridget, “it’s honestly easier just to accept it at face value than to try and comprehend it.”

[Quinn] “Another towel’d be nice,” Quinn calls. “We’ve only got the one and it’s, uh, sort of in use.”

A claw drops to the floor, the shower curtain is pulled back. Hunter is seen first, then Quinn, her long hair dripping wet, a white fluffy towel wrapped around her body. Until tonight, the only person in Chicago to see this much of Quinn’s body had his own burned to his Homelands. Now, Bridget, Caldera and Hunter can see: the trail of birds working around her right forearm, the outline of a star on the inside of her left wrist, claw marks that start at her right shoulder and trail nearly to her elbow and, when she turns, the branch of some tree in blossom, stretched across her upper back.

She smiles at Howard in sympathy. “Are there anymore?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Into the common room she heads, peering around with a swipe of her hand through her hair. She pauses a moment to try and remember which way is what, then just gives up and follows the sound of voices.

[Hunter] It’s then he sees Bridget, standing there. He looks at her with raised eyebrows. “Go give em’a cuddle, he’s like a big baby.”

Then he stops, turns around, looks at Howard and cracks up laughing. “You’re fuckin’ ridiculous.”

A pause.

“I can’t believe I just pulled a claw outta’ya ass. I’m hungry, and I need a fuckin’ drink. I also wanna’ get the fuck outta’ this place. Who’s comin’?”

[Bridget] The Canadian gawks with a bottle of liquor in hand. She unscrews the bourbon then sips at it.

“What the hell happened?” she asks.

[Howard] Once he thinks he doesn’t have an audience anymore, Howard turns his back to the shower wall and doesn’t so much let himself slide down as he just collapses. Quinn is close enough to see that his hair froze from taking a shower and then going outside for far too long, that his corduroys–previously yellow–are drenched in blood. It seems to have originated from his left sacroiliac region, but the entirety of his leg and backside has turned a stomach-turning red, and it’s stained his torso as well, as though he was lying in blood for a good amount of time. Pain has turned his skin dusky, and there is blood on his hands as well; hand prints coat the walls of the shower, and there’s a trail of prints where he was marched across the floor.

He’s still panting as he rests on the wet floor of the shower. To his credit he doesn’t attempt to peek up Quinn’s towel; with his sunglasses on no one can see he’s squeezing his eyes shut.

Quinn wants to know if there are anymore.


You’re fuckin’ ridiculous.

“Oi!” Howard snaps, his rancor feigned, before lifting a bloody hand to flip Hunter a bird.

Who’s comin’?

All the Theurge does is laugh a high-pitched, almost hysterical laugh and rest his head against the wall of the shower.

[Cordelia] “… Le plus gros problème ici, c’est que vous n’êtes pas s’accepter soi-même et vous n’avez pas à accepter vos décisions. Les gens font des erreurs. Les gens grandissent. You are human,” she doesn’t chide. Maybe it’s the nature of the language, it sounds softer. Something about the way Cordelia handles the language makes it gentle.

She sighs, and her voice drops to the realm of almost inaudible.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She makes a slow walk down the hallway, the grin ratcheting up a touch for no immediately apparent reason. Maybe it’s just an involuntary reaction to approaching trouble.

[Kristiana Coleman] She nods slightly, her voice quiet. “Il vient de quitter après. Je n’avais pas honte avant qu’il vient de quitter.”

[Patrick] Patrick studies his pack-mate, his mouth thinning with something like distaste for the state of him, then cuts a glance at Quinn. It’s short, but considering. He takes note of her scarring, of her tattoos. If ever a man could make you feel at once attractive and an oddity simultaneously, it was the Galliard.

Still; he doesn’t leer.
That must be a point in his favor.

“I think there’s more towels in the hall closet, if I remember right. I’ll get you one.” He takes up Bridget’s bourbon, first, however, downs a gulp and gestures toward Howard. “Get some into him, he needs it. He looks like something’s chewtoy.”

Eyes back to Howard.

“What the hell were you fighting with, anyway?” This as he ventures into the hall to return with clean towels.

[Quinn] “No clue,” Quinn says in answer to Bridget’s question. With one hand holding her towel in place, she carefully squeezes her knees together as she lowers herself to her knees beside the Theurge. Her eyes take in the hair, the sunglasses, and the bloody trousers. Rather than looking overly concerned, her mouth quirks. when she first met Howard, she was both amused and confused. Now, she just looks at him with a kind of sad amusement.

Reaching out to at least attempt to knock a frozen curl back from his forehead, she looks at his face and says in a voice not meant to carry, “I think you’ll be okay if you shift. A claw to the ass really isn’t that bad.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She pauses, head tilting as she sees Patrick come out of the bathroom, and gives him a quick appraising look and a grin. “Hola.”

[Cordelia] “Pas tous les hommes sont comme ça. Votre point de vue sur le sexe es différent que le sien. Je pense que … vous recherchez un lien affectif, et que vous voulez quelqu’un pour vous faire sentir aimée,” she sighs, and just strokes her hair still, “Je ne pense pas que moins de vous.”

[Bridget] There is a huge bloody mess everywhere. The Canadian just blinks. Her sequin top does indeed look ridiculous at this point. That’s neither here nor there. Quinn seems quite concerned, so she kneels down to where the Fiann lies on the floor. Patrick instructs her to take him the whiskey and temporarily conviscates it without asking and returns it to her. The girl swishes the liquor bottle into his field of vision.

“You need to stop getting your ass handed to you. I already carried you here once all bloodied up,” she says quietly.

And after a moment of thinking about it, she adds, “Are you alright?”

[Kristiana Coleman] “I ruined everything. I should have just listened to you.”

[Howard] What the hell was he fighting with, anyway?

“My feelings,” he says.

Quinn ducks down next to him, her towel secured, and he doesn’t horse around as he tends to, doesn’t try to flip her hair into her eyes or loosen her towel. She tells him he’ll be fine, and he doesn’t argue with her, exactly, but neither is he in any great hurry to get up and haul himself out of there either.

“Oh, no, the ass would’ve been fine,” he says, his own volume dropping so as not to overpower the kinswoman’s, “but there’s bone, Quinn! So much bone!

And there’s Bridget. Howard draws a breath; the finger of one hand splayed on the floor involuntarily twitches.

“Well, tell ya the truth, Hunter’s a tad selfish. Didn’t exactly give me a reach-around just now. Sooo, unless you’re offerin’ to finish the job…”

[Patrick] He has to duck his head around the side of the closet door to glimpse the Hispanic woman who addresses him at random. Patrick was a tall guy, though not as tall as many of the male Garou in Chicago at 5’11. He had quite vividly blue eyes and a head of blond hair to match that was kept short no matter the season.

Currently, he was also covered in car grease, his overalls soiled from time spent beneath vehicles.

The stranger grins at him; and the Galliard, who in truth almost matched some Ahrouns for sheer force of Rage turned, shutting the door with his back. His arms were full of towels, and voices carried from the bathroom. “Hey,” he replied with a quiet, somewhat restrained tone.

He hesitated a beat. “You lost, or? If you’re looking for a place to sleep,” was he about to offer to share a bed with her? “I think the owners are downstairs. Ask for a Jenny.” Then the broad-shouldered Welsh-man vanished back into the showers in time to hear Howard’s final words. He offered a towel to Quinn, and tossed the latter at Howard’s head.

[Bridget] An eyebrow turns upward, a sigh escaping her. He’s joking, so he’s fine. But he does not take the bourbon, and instead kind of lashes out at her with his brilliant sense of humor. She takes a long swig of the bourbon and sets the bottle down on the floor of the shower stall.

She’s in a strange mood today. Howard is okay, so the cabin fever rolls back over her like a heavy cloak. She’d do for a good night’s worth of sleep, but that will never happen here it seems.

“Nice,” is all she says before rising back up to her feet.

[Cordelia] “No,” she sighs, and she hasn’t taken her hand off of Kristiana’s hair, “no, you did what you thought was right and you made your own decision. All you can do now is learn from it and move on. If you don’t want me to say anything, I won’t say anything.”

[Kristiana Coleman] “Don’t. Please. I don’t want people to know.” She reaches up and pats Cordelia’s hair too. “You can take whatever clothes you want.”

[Quinn] She quirks a brow, tilts her head, and she smiles. There are things she could say. Questions she could ask.

But just like that night on the roof, Quinn doesn’t close that distance. For one thing, they’re not really alone in this stall. There’s an audience, just over Quinn’s shoulder. For another…well, who knows.

She pats his shoulder. “Finishing what he started means he started something. I thought you weren’t into men’s manly muscles.” Rocking back, she rises to her feet just after Bridget. She shakes her head to the offer of another towel. “Thanks, but I’m covered.” Hah.

“Hunter, I’d be super happy to head out with you if you’ll give me a couple minutes to put some clothes on? This extended leave of absence crap is making me crazy.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She opens her mouth to answer, but just grins when he’s gone quicker than she can do so. She reaches out and opens the door slightly so she can get her response out. “Ain’t you ever seen the bumper sticker? Not all who wander are lost. Think it’s in some kinda book, too. But no, I’m just explorin’ a bit. Thanks, though.”

[Hunter] He sighs, looking at Howard, and then makes a blergghh face.

“Jesus H Christ.” And he steps back into the shower, grabs him by the front of the shirt and pulls him to his feet.

“C’mon dick face.” He says to Howard. “Quinn, I’ll meet ya’ downstairs, bring a coat.”

And begins manoeuvring the stubborn Theurge out of the shower and hopefully out of the bathroom, back to his brother.

[Cordelia] “I’ll hand it to him, Ivan Press is nothing if not discreet. So, if you don’t say anything, he won’t… and I gave you my word.”

[Howard] By the time Hunter gets back to Howard he has quite literally curled up on the floor of the shower stall to cuddle with the bottle of bourbon Bridget left behind to keep him company, as if he’s just planning on going to sleep in a pool of bloody water. His momentary respite from being asked if he’s alright is interrupted by a meaty hand grasping the front of his drenched shirt and hauling him to his feet.

Whoa!” he shouts, louder than is absolutely necessary, not grabbing the Ahroun for support this time. “What! No! Fuck! Where are we going!”

He’s limping, but he can actually assist in the walking task now, his left Converse squelching with blood every time he steps off of it.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Hearing people approaching the door, she lets the door close the crack that it had been opened and takes a few steps back, simply so as not to block traffic.

[Kristiana Coleman] “I was worried about that. Good.” She pulls away to stand. “I should go back to the hotel and get the rest of my things.” (Which is Angelina for “I’m exhausted and it’s past my bedtime”)

[Cordelia] “You need to get rid of some of this,” she chides. Her heart’s not in it; she can’t stop grinning, “go get your things.”

[Kristiana Coleman] She scrambles up, leaning to kiss Cordelia on both cheeks before heading out.

[Bridget] As for bloody messes, she’s seen it before a few too many times to get all worked up right away. Bridget knows Howard is fine now, so she retreats back into the original pensive, quiet state she was in prior to all this. Part of her is sick of the city, sick of being cooped up like a goddamn bird.

Hunter marches past her into the stall to go have another potentially-homoerotic-themed spat. Bridget blinks, then follows. She just keeps walking past all the mess and straight into room 8, where she shuts the door behind her. The girl doesn’t even look at the two blonde kinswomen before she does an epic swan dive onto her own mattress.

She could actually get out of here for the night, but frankly she’s kind of tired of the Garou antics. She’s exausted, homesick, and tired of the big city and all it’s unwild mess. Rotting, Simon had described it.

So the kin mumbles into her pillow, sounds like singing, but it’s half-hearted.

“Shu shu shu shu shu shu, Sugar town.”

[Quinn] Quinn goes back into the shower she’d used just a bit ago. When she comes out she just smiles, doesn’t even pause to tell Hunter Adoy. Of course she’ll be bringing a coat. It snowed today for Christ’s sakes. Quinn will be going out in full on tundra gear, hat, scarf, gloves, sweater and leather jacket, jeans. And she’ll leave her heeled boots behind in favor of shoes with traction.

The tall kinswoman disappears into room 4 to make that outfit happen.

[Patrick] Sarita follows after Patrick a few steps to respond to him, but the Galliard’s focus has by this point been drawn back to the scene at hand before him. He watches Hunter drag Howard up and out of the showers by his shirt front; the latter leaving bloody foot prints in his wake and glances around, then at the towel in his hand.

“Yeah, whatever.”

He mutters to the air, and moves over to turn the facet on in the stall Howard had curled up in; blood begins to wash down the drain, and Patrick leans his body against one side of it, towel slung over his shoulder. The Galliard does not follow after his Alpha and the others just yet.

He watches the water turn pink, then clear.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She just leans against the wall in the hallway, arms crossed as she watches the various people emerge from the bathroom head in their own directions in their various physical and emotional states. She looks more bemused than anything else. “It’s like watching a clown car empty,” she says quietly to herself.

[Cordelia] Cordelia looked at the pile of clothes on her bed, and then at the pile of clothes on the floor. The female sighs, and she starts to strip out of whatever it was she was wearing. Cordelia rummages through her drawers to find something to throw on. Alas, the female doesn’t find anything.

Bridget’s closet yields better results. The female ends up sleeping in a tee shirt that isn’t hers and a pair of camoflage underwear. Given that there’s a giant pile of clothing on her bed, she blends right in.

[Hunter] “You got a car? Need’ta sleep man.” He asks Howard.

“Either that or you’re growin’ some fur, either way ya’ gettin’ better for’I’leave.”

[Bridget] The noise picking up in the bar and carrying through the floor makes the Canadian glare angrily into the dark. She watches a naked Cordy raid her closet, turns her head, and sighs. She plays at trying to sleep some more, but it won’t come easily. After staring for a while, she drags herself to her feet and goes back out the door. She tiptoes out and closes the door quietly, then slumps down with her back against the wall, just staring.

[Patrick] At some point, whenever the next to arrive does so in the showers; they find them quite deserted and empty. Patrick had never re-emerged after the others, and there’s a clean towel neatly folded beside a stall that smells, faintly, of recent blood. The coppery tang lingers in the air.

There was, of course, an abundance of mirrors.
One can only assume where the Cliath had vanished to.

[Howard] Howard is not exaggerating the difficulty he’s having with walking; if anything he’s attempting to downplay the fact that he doesn’t have the Gift necessary to ignore his wounds nor the constitution of a man who can endure being stabbed by just grinning and spitting in his attacker’s face. As he’s shuffled down the hallway, he keeps clutching the bourbon bottle to his chest; being asked direct questions has even less effect than usual.

“Your concern is touching,” he says, “really, it is.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She tilts her head as she sees Bridget come out and then sit against the wall, glancing around before she shrugs and approaches. “Hola. Y’okay?”

[Patrick] [Thanks for play, all! :D]

[Bridget] A lovely Hispanic woman she hasn’t met before addresses the Fianna kin. A blink. She looks up, then nods. There is undetectable rage, but stranger things have happened.

“Can’t sleep,” she says. “I think I’ll just throw on another coat and go for a walk.”

She hoists herself vertical, then looks to the other brunette again. She’s so preoccupied that she doesn’t introduce herself until she re-emerges from the room with a studded leather jacket to cover the gold sequin tunic over black stovepipe jeans. She’s wearing combat boots this time, and has a tube of lipgloss in her hand the color of rich burgundy. The hippie headband is missing, allowing her waves to fall wildly.

She offers her spare hand. “Haven’t seen you before,” she says. “I’m Bridget.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She smiles a little as Bridget heads off into the room, then back out. She takes the offered hand. “Sarita. My and my sister arrived just last night. Nice to meet you.”

[Bridget] “Nice to meet you.” She puts on a smidge of the gloss, staining her lips a sort of berry hue.

“I should probably make sure they’re not punking each other out again,” she says absentmindedly. “Things can get rough around here. Sorry, I’m a bit out of it today.”

She trudges off in the direction they were headed when last she saw the two Garou, a look of confusion on her face. Quinn’s gone, Patrick has vanished.

“Where the fuck?” she mumbles. “Howard.” The last stated somewhat loudly while she looks around.

[Hunter] “Yeah yeah.” Hunter says as they limp towards the stairwell in the common room. “I’mma take ya’ ta bed big boy, give ya’ that reach around ya’ wanted. Just fuckin’ don’t talk please.”

The words drift away in the air as he hoists the Theurge down the stairs.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hey, no worry. I been there before. And rough is just my style, really.”

When Bridget looks confused, she points down the hallway. “One guy was helping another guy walk down the from the bathroom. I think that’s them down the hall.” She points her thumb in the direction of the voices. “The guy who came out for towels didn’t come back out after you all did.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Delete the first of the points. I can make sense, I swear! 😛 ]]

[Howard] [Thanks for the scene, ladies!]

[Bridget] Aha! Voices. Sarita points things out to her just as she puts things together. The homoerotic flirtation continues as the half-wild Fianna girl comes trudging after them as if she’s been invited. She doesn’t even bother asking. At this point she will snap if someone tries to keep her pent up in this place.

“Hey, wait up,” the chit calls down. “If I don’t get out of here I am going to lose my goddamn mind.”

Her combat boots come thumping down the stairs after the two in more rapid succession until she catches up.

[Bridget] [Okies you too Jamie]

[Howard] [Ack! Didn’t see you posted hang on!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She watches Bridget head after them, chuckling. She just grins and lets her head off, then looks around to figure out where to resume exploring.

[Howard] At the door leading out into the alleyway, Howard hears hollering down the stairs. He thrusts the bourbon at Hunter and forcibly peels himself away from the Ahroun to turn around and face Bridget. He’s favoring his left leg, for rather obvious reasons, and he looks back over at Hunter once as she rounds the bottom of the stairs.

“Goin’ to what?” he asks, as though he missed what she said. Must have water in his ears. Howard tries to clear out his ear canal with a finger, tipping his head to one side as he does so, then jerks a thumb at Hunter. “Catchin’ a ride home with this prick, my ass is killin’ me.”

Stepping just outside the kitchen door, Howard stumbles a bit as he tries to remember which room is Quinn’s, whereupon he cups his hands and yells “OI!! QUINN!! MOVE YOUR ARSE WOMAN THE BUS IS LEAVIN’!!”

[Hunter] It doesn’t take much for Howard to peel himself off Hunter when bourbon gets put in the Gnawers hands. He takes it and wanders off slowly, leaving the two Fianna to their own devices as Howard begins talking. He spends his time looking in the fridge, picking out bits of meat and chewing on them.

“You wanna steak?” He absently shouts over at Howard. “HEY QUINN YOU WANNA STEAK?” He offers the kinfolk still upstairs.

And then just shrugs, puts it back in on it’s plate, wanders out through the door to the alley.

[Bridget] Howard faces her, not understanding what she says. Bridget looks to Hunter before looking back to Howard. Her face is twisted with a bit of worry.

“I’m coming with you. Anyone who wants to keep me here will have to tell it to my hunting knife.”

She’s joking, right?

The punk chick folds her arms over her chest and looks to Hunter with a quirked brow. She scratches the back of her head, then looks to the injured Theurge.

“You better come along, sugar. Your ride is leaving.” The kinfolk approaches her kinsman and loops an arm around his torso so he can brace himself a little if need be.

Quinn tags along or doesn’t.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] And she’s out of sight, having wandered off somewhere upstairs. [[Thanks for the scene. 🙂 ]]

New Faces and Rooster Balls

[Bridget] While the night owl hipster is sleeping through much of the afternoon like an animal in hibernation, Bridget sleeps lightly and has trouble staying that way. So she pulls a sheet back onto the bed and over the bottom half of the slumbering Garou, dons her clothes, and slips out of Room 4 with as much stealth as she can muster, keeping an eye out for people in the hallway.

Only when in the shower does she notice a dark bruise on her knee, and it takes her a minute to register when that happened. She settles that it probably happened during the furious makeout session before they both vanished into the abandoned room of Night’s Reprieve and Howard. Bridget takes longer than usual in the shower, letting the hot water pelt her shoulders until the skin turns bright and warm.

Soon enough, she finishes her daily rituals, dresses in a pair of jeans with a tear on the outer thigh towards the knee, a black Calgary Flames athletic tank, and a small silver necklace. She plaits her hair into two messy braids and goes barefoot in search of food, bringing back a plate of maple syrup covered sausage, scrambled eggs topped with black pepper, and a healthy dose of orange juice.

So what if it’s after 5pm?

[Bridget] [the abandoned room of the Godi and Fianna*… I just realized how awkward that sentence is]

[Hunter] The door to the roof isn’t closed. At least not properly. They can hear it swinging and banging shut every now and then as cold air gets flushed down the stairwell into level three and then the common room. Bang WOOOSH Bang WOOOSH. And up there is Hunter, leaning against the barrier with a hand held close to his face because it’s permanently attached to the cigarette protruding from his lips. Why is he back here of all places? Didn’t he have enough embarrassment for the rest of the month?

Who knows, maybe he’s a sucker for punishment or maybe he just does not give a fuck. There’s a few empty beer bottles line up along the wall and a couple of unopened ones tucked into the snow at his feet.

[Bridget] After a few bites of her first meal of the day, the Canadian hears a noise. She’s curious, but not so much that it separates her from her meal. The breakfast food is devoured ravenously, washed down with orange juice, before she looks up the roof access.

She decides to grab something warm: the knitted afghan from her bed. A second thought brings her to conclude she may need footwear. Bare feet slip into leather combat boots and lead the Fianna up the roof access, laces untied. A hand braces the door while she steps out into the snow, a blue and black blanket knitted from sport yarn wrapped around her shoulders like a pelt.

There are empty beer bottles littering the roof. The Canadian’s warm brown eyes find Hunter drinking.

“Bit early, don’t you think?”

[Hunter] “Hmm?” He says and turns his head briefly, she gets a smile from Hunter. At least he isn’t drinking himself into depression, no he doesn’t even really seem drunk. “Yer, maybe.” He replies and takes the last swig out of his current bottle, lining it up next to the other empty ones. And then he turns around, leaning his back against the wall, crosses his arms over his chest and flicks the cigarette down into the snow by his feet.

“You seen Howard this mornin’?”

[Bridget] Has she seen Howard this morning! Is he being polite, coy, or another dumb Ahroun?

The Quebecois blinks at the Gnawer as if she’s not sure what to say. She bundles up tighter in the blanket, then raises an eyebrow at him.

“He was sleeping when I left his old room… about an hour ago.”


[Hunter] He was sleeping when I left his old room… about an hour ago.

That makes him grin and he looks down at his feet briefly before peering up at her with a smile so broad it’s like it can’t be contained. “Nice.” He says, “Least one’a us didn’t crash’n’burn” then suddenly he laughs, pushes himself off the wall and scoops up the beers at his feet out of the snow.

“C’mon, let’s go downstairs, I gotta’ see a man bout’ a dog soon anywho.” He grins and steps towards the metal door, opens it and allows her down before he follows in her wake. Once in the common room, the bottles get placed onto the coffee table but he doesn’t open any of them. Maybe they’re for someone else.

[Bridget] Hunter grins and mentions the obvious. Bridget just shrugs and goes back inside, shivering under her blanket. The unopened bottles are set aside like some shrine offering. The Canadian takes note, smirking. Ugh, beer.

The chit goes down to the bar in her unlaced combat boots. She retrieves a bottle of whiskey, pays for it, and returns upstairs to the couch, where she plops onto the sectional presumably beside the Ahroun. There’s a remote. She grabs it and searches for a hockey game she hasn’t seen or is remotely interested in. Finding none, the woman tosses it over to the Gnawer.

“Eh, why not.” The whiskey gets cracked open, and the kinswoman takes a small swig with a shrug of her shoulders.

[Amunet Trujillo] “How the fuck would I know? I haven’t been here either, remember?” She tromps through, making only a halfhearted attempt at being quiet. “I would assume we look for people, or a building. Watch the log.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She’s keeping herself at Amy’s side as they head along…she may be nutty as a fruitcake, but she would never be suicidal enough to be perceived by Amy as being overprotective of her. That’s just a damn recipe for disaster. She’s keeping an eye out as they come up. “Thanks.” The log is cleared with a little hop.

“So remember…if we manage to beat my record and get chased out in less then forty minutes, I get a set of steak knives. But then we gotta move again, and I’m not down with that.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “We only get chased out of places because of you. I’M perfectly charming. People LOVE me.” She looks to her left as there’s some sort of rustling. “That the set you stole from the guy’s place?”

[Hunter] He catches the remote without even looking. It’s inhuman, to be sure, but he flicks through the channels and stops on a cooking show. Someone’s making salmon, it makes his stomach grumble.

“Bit early ain’t it? Shit girl.” He laughs but doesn’t look like he’s disapproving or judgemental.

Resting his green eyes on her for a moment he hmms slightly then peers towards the staircase as if he’s expecting someone to burst out of it any minute. They don’t. He looks back towards the TV.

“That looks fuckin’ good.” He decides. “These shows always make me fuckin’ hungry as a whore afta’ a long night’s work.”

[Amunet Trujillo] (Nevermind. Get, not Got. *Erases last sentence of post*)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh, yeah. You’re just America’s Sweetheart. Only, more Catherine Zeta-Jones than Julia Roberts.” She follows Amy’s look toward the rustling.

[Kyle] Yeah he looked like he should be six foot under rather than walking around but that’s Kyle for you. His face was paler than usual, probably the weather, and the black circles under his eyes gave him an almost sunkenk look. His long black hair was left loose today to try and keep his neck a little warmer but mostly resulted in it going all over the place when the wind blew past. Clad in a rather worn brown leather trench you could almost thing the clothing was moving on its own. His slight frame hidden by the bulk of the garment. Slung over his shoulder was his familiar guitar case. The case has seen lots of travel over it’s relatively short life. Checking the road was clear he crosses and makes a line for the front door of the Brotherhood. He needed to get in out of the cold and probably a warm shower wouldn’t hurt either.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Only hotter.” Dismissing whatever made the noise, she continues on her way for a few feet before stopping to look around. “You know, in Denver we would have had Guardians up our ass already. I like it here.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Yeah, and not in the fun way, either.” She nods, rolling her neck to one side and then the other, little pops coming with the successive movements. “So far, so good.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She nudges Sarita, and points across the way at a man making his way quickly to a building. “Check there?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Unless you’re feeling adventurous enough to go check out some sunken ships, matey.” She grins and heads toward the building. “C’mon. Let’s play follow the leader.”

[Bridget] Hunter changes the channel to a cooking show and grumbles about the food. Bridget looks as if she is about to cry. Howard dozes in the abandoned room like a cave bear. It’s no wonder she couldn’t sleep.

“Oh my god, that looks so amazing. That reminds me of the last camping trip I took before I left Canada.” There is genuine wistfullness in her voice.

[Amunet Trujillo] “What’s the worst that can happen, right?” She tugs her jacket down, and heads for the building.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She stops for a second, looking at Amy in amazement. “You did NOT just say that.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She flashes a grin over her shoulder. “Come on, you big baby. You’re supposed to be the scary one.”

[Hunter] “Man, I mean..” he says and he scoots on closer to her on the couch. “Okay.” He begins, hand reaching out for the bottle of whiskey but not taking it unless it’s offered. “I ain’t no fuckin’ country boy, not that there’s anythin’ wrong with bein’ a bumpkin’ just sayin’ I grew up wit da streets and its all I’ve ever really known.”

He pause.

“But out there!” He says and gestures randomly towards windows. “Out in the wild, man. I ain’t feel like that ever. Cruisin’ in a fuckin’ fur skin, doin’ things like Gaia intended? I mean, ma’ tribe be city folk through and through, but it ain’t natural. Wind’n’water ‘n fuckin’ huntin’ that shit is natural.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She shakes her head. “Never. EVER. Say those words in that order. Don’t you watch any movies? Good Kee-rist, woman.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She follows along though, of course.

[Kyle] Opening the door to the Brotherhood, Kyle cops a few unpleasent glares as the cold air rushes in. That ever present smile on his face given to everyone as he heads towards the bar. A wave and nod in greeting to the regulars is given. Leaning over the bar a little he has a quick chat with the bar tender before giving a thumbs up and heading for the stairs. His heavy biker boots thudding with each step. His subtle way of saying someone is coming up since he can’t really call out.

[Amunet Trujillo] The cold breeze has just equalized back to pleasantly warm air when the door opens again, sweeping in another gust along with the two women. Amunet gets far enough in so that Sarita can close the door before stopping and taking a long, slow look around.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] And shut the door she does, before turning around and spreading her arms wide. “Loooo-cy! I’m HOOOOOOOOOME!” She grins widely as she says it, looking around.

[Amunet Trujillo] “You see? THIS is why we get kicked out of places.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “No, chica. We get kicked out of places because you say shit like ‘what’s the worst that could happen?’ Because then we find out. Don’t blame me for flagging down the fates with the big red bullfighter flag, ’cause they wouldn’t be there to flag down if you didn’t tempt them.”

[Bridget] The whiskey bottle is passed. He talks about running the wild in fur, and it’s clearly something she has no idea about. She’s only seen it. However, she does know the freedom of being alone with one’s thoughts, relying on one’s own skills, the land, and luck to survive. The bumpkin is better versed with it than she has admitted.

“Yeah,” begin sarcastic tone. “My other set of kicks are furry paws.”

The Canadian chitters with small, quick bursts of laughter.

[Hunter] “Oh.” He says and quickly takes a swig of whiskey before passing it back. “Right.” He laughs. “My fuckin’ bad” He didn’t quite think that through did he. Of course she doesn’t know what it’s like to run as a wolf. But run beside one, with her human legs. That’s something she can experience, maybe has experienced. Something Garou like Hunter will never experience, being completely different yet still utterly vital.

“Where bouts’ in Canada ya from?”

[Mila] {Did they come in the front door?}
to Amunet Trujillo, Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Yep, they came in and then Sarita did her “LUUUUCY, I’m HOOOOOOME” bit.]]
to Amunet Trujillo

[Amunet Trujillo] Yep!
to Mila, Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Yep, they came in and then Sarita did her “LUUUUCY, I’m HOOOOOOME” bit.]]
to Amunet Trujillo, Mila

[Bridget] “Alberta,” she says. “Some place in the backwoods you’ve probably never heard of.”

The whiskey gets proper treatment when she takes another swig. Her eyebrow twitches briefly after she gulps it down. It’s true, she’ll never run with canid legs, but she’s seen it enough times. Runs With Wolves might be her bumper sticker, if she had a vehicle.

“I live with my Dad back there. Our cabin isn’t too far from the bawn.”

[Mila] A dark haired young woman turned on the barstool as the pair entered the Brotherhood of Thieves. The turn was slow, delibrate.. a bit like it was scripted for a movie. She didn’t look upset as she rested both arms on the bar behind her. A brow rose.

To those that could pick it out, her breeding was obvious enough and the rage was almost palpable. She didn’t exactly look like the welcome wagon.

“Are you now?” Came the response from the woman.

[Amunet Trujillo] Yep, they’re in the right place. She really should let Sarita take the lead here, but old habits die hard. Instead, the woman steps forward and meets the woman’s gaze fearlessly. “Evening.”

[Hunter] “Sounds nice.” He says, and stares absently at the wall. He has memories of woods and wind and sun, recent memories. But they’re in Chicago, the most modern city in the world, or at least it was when it was rebuilt. The woods are on the outskirts, looking in on a rat race of human greed. The wyrm hold the woods, Hunter has always found that strange, that Gaia’s children should hide out in the city whilst the Spirals claim nature as their own.

“Jesus H Christ son of joseph and mary that looks fuckin’ good.” He says, groaning at the TV.

“Wanna go raid the kitchen? Ain’t done it in awhile.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She glances from Amy over to Mila, giving her an appraising look over a lopsided grin. “Yep. Home is where the heart is. And it looks like this place has a bar. Which means I’m in love.” She tilts her head in Amy’s direction. “Also, what she said. Evening.”

[Mila] “Good Evening..” she replied even as she stood, hands sliding into the back pocket of her low slung jeans.

“Can I help you two?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “If you can’t, I’m sure you can direct us to someone who can.” She nods, stepping closer but staying just out of quick reach. “We were going to go poking around inside the fence, but it seemed ill advised. I’m Amy. This is Sarita”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hola.” She steps up next to Amy’s side. “S’up?”

[Mila] “Smart ladies..” She grinned, her demeanor easing some. “I’m sure you didn’t want to be met by the welcome wagon that way.. ”

“A pleasure.. I’m Mila. Where are you all from?” She motioned towards the mostly empty bar, and back towards the seat she previously occupied.

[Bridget] “No, I’d love to but I just scarfed down a breakfast plate.”

It’s true. The dishes are still up here. She hasn’t had a chance to take them back down yet. The syrupy mess conceals all but the smell of the sausage.

“But you go right ahead.”

[Kyle] Wandering past the common room he gives a quick wave in greeting before heading to his room. He needed to get warmed up and a change of clothes probably would help as well.

[Hunter] “Aight, suit ya’self.” He says, pushing himself off the sectional. “Say hey to that fuckin’ jerk for me when he wakes up. Tell him I owe em’ a slap.”

Grinning he bounds off down the stairs towards the kitchen.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Most recently, Denver. Before that, what…was it St. Louis?” She looks at Amy. “Something like that.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She gives Sarita a look that says So far, So good, and takes the offered seat. “St Louis. Yeah.” She nods in agreement. “And before that Austin.”

[Mila] “What brings you all to Chicago?” Mila retook her seat, and motioned the bartender over to take the new arrivals orders.

A slender hand wrapped around the glass of amber liquid and ice cubes before her.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She takes a seat next to Amy. “The road and my van, but obviously, not the answer you were looking for.” She actually looks to Amy for this one, letting her take the lead.

[Bridget] Bridget turns the TV off, takes her dishes to the proper location, and returns to her shared room. She shuts the door quietly before piling on top of her own bed, the afghan concealing her upper body, but not her feet.

After a still moment, the blanket monster has a mind to kick off her boots. Using her toes, she kicks them off with some small racket. The kinfolk returns to the stillness of the dark, vacant room, to the cozy promise of a nap. Small hibernation. Not a bad idea.

She can never sleep well with the constant skyglow, the ambient noises of the city are completely unnatural. Her dreams are fitful.

[I’ll be back on later.]

[Amunet Trujillo] “Don’t be a smart ass, Sarita. She knows someone here. A regular someone. Seemed like as good a place as any next.”

[Mila] A curious brow rose.. Mila remained silent, simply taking a sip of her drink. Apparently these two had something to work out first..

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I prefer wiseass. But it was more of a joke than a wisecrack.” She shrugs it off, smiling Mila’s way. “We’re the wandering type. Looking for a place to settle in for a stretch. And as Amy said, I know someone here who we can use to help us settle in.”

[Mila] A small nodd, as if ‘cool, cool.’

“Who is it you know.. maybe I know ’em too?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Mmm, not unless you know a lot of P.I.’s.” She grins. “His name’s Richard. Moved here from Indiana a little while back.”

[Kyle] Doesn’t take long for him to shower and change. Even after all that hot water his skin doesn’t stay pink for very long, returning to it’s normal stark white. Yeah he needed more sun if only he didn’t burn instead of tan. Making his way down to the bar area he could be considered out of place. Top to toe black, long sleeves and jeans. Those heavy boots of his thudding with each step. He’s tied his hair back in a pony tail and around his neck is that all too familiar black leather collar. Apart from the casual smile and cheerful wave he throws at people he looks like a typical goth. Stopping at the bar he glances over to Mila and the new comers before ordering something to eat and a drink. Sitting down on the bar stool as he waits quietly.

[Amunet Trujillo] She looks the heavy booted man over thoroughly as he appears at the bottom of the stairs and moves to the bar. The smile and wave seem creepy coming from the Goth, but she can at least smile and nod in return. You never know who is who, after all.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She just barely manages to catch Kyle’s movement, being focused on Mila right now, and a small and brief rise of the chin is the greeting sent his way.

[Mila] “Na.. I don’t know any P.I.’s.. though I do gotta wonder why you need a PI to get settled here in Chicago. Most people just rent an apartment..” She grinned slightly.

Her gaze flicked towards Kyle. She gave him a little upnod in greeting.

[Amunet Trujillo] “So, this place is secure? We can talk freely here?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She chuckles in response to Mila’s comment. “Well, it’s more that I used to know him when he was a P.I., and he had his uses then. And, maybe again. But for getting settled in, he’s just a guy that can help carry a couch.”

[Mila] She glanced back.. the nearest non kin was on the other side of the room and looked to be well into his drink. “Yeah, this place is good..”

[Hunter] Hunter emerges from the kitchen with a chicken drumstick between his teeth and mumbles through the food.


[Amunet Trujillo] Oooh. HE’S cute. There’s only one up side to being Kin. She gives Hunter a teasing smile. “Nothing, yet. Why? You offering to get us all settled?”

[Kyle] He can’t help but chuckle at Hunter as he sips his beer.

[Mila] Green eyes shift towards the new arrival.. whom.. she doesn’t seem to recognize – but she can pick out enough of the tell tale signs to know he’s one of them.

“I think they got a couch..”

[Hunter] He stops, tips his head to the side and regards the three occupants in the discussion. He doesn’t actually recognise any of them, which is strange. He should recognise that Lord girl. He stares at her a moment before frowning and then flicking green eyes back to Amunet.

The drumstick gets pulled out of his mouth.

“Depends were ya’ settlin’n’all don’t it? Might’a seen ma’ bike outside, ain’t got much room for’a couch on that.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She follows Amy’s gaze to Hunter, and she just chuckles and gives a light roll of her eyes.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Well lucky for you, we don’t have a couch.”

[Hunter] “Luck fer me? Or lucky fer you?” His eyes flick to the sound of chuckling and he realises something. “I’ve seen ya’ before.” He says to Kyle. “I’m sure I have, how long ya’ been here?”

[Mila] “So.. now that ya’ll know this place is good – why don’t you give us the real story of what’s goin on, who ya are and all that?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Actually, it’s pretty much the same.” She shrugs. “Sarita Echoes-of-Laughter, this is my half-sis Amy. Children of Owl.”

[Kyle] He turns to Hunter and gives a casual nod. When he speaks his voice is barely above a whisper but he looks at Hunter so least he can clearly see what he’s saying. Almost like he was used to people mostly reading lips.
“Yeah been here couple of years now. Wander in and out all the time but currently bunking upstairs for the winter. Name’s Kyle.”

[Hunter] He grins, snaps his fingers. “That’s right, you drew ma’ fuckin’ thunderwyrm.” He nods, “Dude, sick drawins’, who these peeps ya with? They gonna stay here?”

And then it seems like introductions should be had.

“Names Hunter.” He says to the others, “Hunter Matthews, Alpha of the Vanguard, don’t live here, live out in Bronze but if’n ya’ thinkin’ of stayin’ then sure I’ll help ya’ carry shit if nobody else is around.”

[Mila] “Stormbreaker, ” she replies, “Alpha of Dark Sky, Grandchild of Thunder. I don’t live outta here either, but down in Lakeview. But, this place does have rooms if you need somewhere to stay for awhile..”

[Kyle] Nods and shrugs at the question about the others. But hearing introductions start up he simply sips his beer as he lets them do the offical stuff.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Amunet Trujillo. Amy, like she said. Nice to meet all of you” Cool as a cucumber, Aimes. Cool as a cucumber.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Sweet.” She smiles and gives Mila an inclination of her head. “Good to know, and nice to meet you.”

[Kyle] Now the offical intros are done he turns and smiles at Sarita and Amunet. Trying his best to be heard as he speaks in that hushed voice.
“Kyle. Nice to meet you ladies.”
He didn’t have any grand titles or breeding to show off. He was just a simple wanderer.

[Mila] “That’s Kyle.. he’s a relation of yours.. I believe..” She motioned towards the nice goth young man.

[Drinkwater] Aanon has always kept to himself. Even with his own pack. He simply spent his time alone either in mystical hypothesis or worse, in some dark rite. Tonight were only different because he thought to wash his hands. Though the wrenching oder of blood clung to his dark skin.

Faded jeans, aligator booots. Thin white tee beneath a long black peacoat. His hair natural, but even now his eyes were shaded behind Rayban Aviators as he entered the hallowed grounds of the Caern’s bawn and sought the warmth of the Broho.

[Amunet Trujillo] The Goth is theirs. That’s. Something. She offers a smile to the kid again, gesturing him over. “Well get your ass over here and be social, then.”

[Drinkwater] (Hispanic? Interesting..I thought I were the only one! Rock on. Anyways…Puerto Riccian if yer gals would notice)
to Amunet Trujillo, Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Hunter] “Owls eh?” he smiles. “Ain’t seen too many owls round here in awhile” And then he chews on his chicken.

“Well, if ya’ do decide ta’ stay, just head on up the stairs through the kitchen, second floors for our kind and yours alike. Might as well check it out if ya’ here.”

Mila gets a quick glance and he frowns, he definitely should know the other Alpha’s of the city, but he’s been gone awhile and he mainly stuck to his part of town when he was here.

“I gotsta’ head out, but show em round someone eh?”

He grins.

“Nice ta’ meet ya’ ladies.”

[Amunet Trujillo] Ohh! Nice!
to Drinkwater, Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Kyle] Gives a thumbs up at Mila’s comment and then smiles at Amunet. For a goth he sure smiled a lot. Grabs his beer and the fresh bowl of fries that just turned up and moves closer. motions to the ladies to help themselves to the food as he gives Hunter a casual wave goodbye.

[Mila] It’s true- they should know each other and there will be another time for that.

The young woman nods in Hunter’s direction. “Will do.. you take care..”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Nice meeting you.” She offers Hunter a shamelessly flirtatious smile, then turns her attention back to Mila and Sarita.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks over to Kyle and smiles at him. “Cool. Always nice to meet the fam.” She glances back at Drinkwater and then back to those in her immediate vicinity, watching them for a moment with a tilt of her head.

[Hunter] Amy gets another glance or two, how can he not look? “You too doll.” But then he’s gone, out through the front door and throwing a peace sign over his shoulder as he goes. They’ll hear the loud roar of his far too powerful bike starting up before he tears off down the road.

[Hunter] [thanks for scene!]

[Mila] “Ya’ll got plans now that you’re here?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “She’s the planner.” She nods her head to Amy, then grins. “Me, I’m the mindless muscle that sits here and looks pretty during downtime.” It’s obviously not a serious statement, or at least entirely so.

[Drinkwater] His boots thudded heavily upon the wooden floorboards as he moved towards the small gathering at the bar. The shaded gaze seemed unphased and unmoving. Making it difficult to judge upon whom he may be looking. Unreadable were his expression. Lips tight with a slight low curving frown. A natural fit for his lips.

There were a swagger to his step as he swept seemingly towards Mila. “Hola señora”, with a thick hint of Castillian beneath his Puerto Riccian dialect. Sweeping those dark shades now over the three others then back to Mila. “One of my Santaros were arrested today for praying to the Orishas and Loa’s. Of course the authorities claim animal cruelty….Do we have any good lawyers amongst our Grandfather’s flock I may call upon?” Yes, he were a praticioner of Santeria

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] The accent draws her attention, and she looks Aanon over with a closer, more appraising look. “I hear turning it into a health code issue works well. Did for Keanu Reeves, anyway.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “But not as pretty as me….” Her eyes take in the Puerto Rican slowly, attention clearly diverted by him.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Says you.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Work got a wee bit busy FYI, might be a touch slower for the next little bit.]]

[Mila] “Hello Aanon..” She took a small sip of her drink.

“Mmm.. Mr Osterman may be a lawyer? I don’t quite remember if he just looks like a lawyer, or is one. He lives upstairs from me..”

[Amunet Trujillo] She keeps a portion of her attention on the conversation that Mila is suddenly in, and scoots closer to Kyle to offer her hand. “Hey. Nice meeting you.”

[Drinkwater] “Gracias…” Brows furrowed behind those shades. His head fell slightly askew and began to turn towards the others whilst his hand slipped into the pocket of his peacoat.

Such a very small curve of his lip twisted upwards into that slow grin. “Hello” In almost perfect English “How are you ladies? And Gent?” But before any could answer he spun back upon Mila, his hand pulling from his pocket. A roster’s feather clung to his cuff as his fingers were darkly wet and coated. A syrup like substance, almost too dark to be red fell from it upon the rim of Mila’s Tequila glass. There were a plop sound, two small milky white and grey looking peices of fleshy like balls now floated to the bottom of her glass. “It’s good Gris, drink it” Turning back towards the trio, that smile abit bigger, even devilish.

“Any care for some rum?”

[Kyle] He’s just been munching on his fries and sipping his beer as he lets them all chat. A casual smile to Aanon before looking to Amunet and taking her hand and shaking it.
“Like wise. In town for long or just wandering past?”
His voice was soft and a little crackling at times. almost as if he rarely talked.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Not sure yet. You?” She lets go of Kyle’s hand but stays close to him, looking to Aanon again. “Hola. Mi nombre es Amunet. Me gustaría un poco de ron.”

[Mila] She blinked at first.. and scooted back off of her chair in horror.

“Oh good god Aanon.. I’m more than happy to tolarate your strange stuff most of the time.. but man, that was my liquor..”

[Kyle] “Kind of my home I suppose. Wander off but seem to come back here. Not sure why.”
Gives a soft chuckle as he then glances over to the commotion Mila is making

[Drinkwater] His smile widened in sheer delight at Amunet’s tongue. Nodding even, that hand coated with those fingertips almost finished the old courtly clasp to one’s chest before a proper bow of his head could be given. Old Castillian mannerisms

But unfortunately he never got to finish, instead snapping his head towards Mila and her glass. A momentary look of confusion before he lowly chuckled. “Be calm Mila, it’s only Roster balls and it’s for the Oaya’s. It’s a good omen to drink them fresh. Especially for a Patron on nights to celebrate….” Nodding quickly as he fell silent. “Forgive me, I should have explained…just drink it. It’s for MY good fortune..not yours”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She’s staying quiet and watching the proceedings, seeming vaguely amused by something.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Nothing wrong with that…” She’s talking to Kyle, but watching Aanon fully now.

[Mila] She bent over slightly to eye the glass and the two floating “things” in it. “Why would you need the good fortune of the mighty rooster balls?”

[Drinkwater] His lips parted. A sigh fell rather than voice. His hand rose to the bar. Capturing the glass of Tequila with the very hand whom’s fingers now myred it with their tips and turned to the two Latina’s. “Amunet, a true pleasure. I assure you. Are you and your…” Clearing eyeing Sarita behind those shades now. The glass rising between them. “Rather have the shot? It’s a Santeria Rite, and seeing as how Im a Santaros myself..only a female of Patron quality can partake…senoras?” Offering the glass between the pair expectantly

[Amunet Trujillo] She steps up almost immediately, reaching for the glass. Why not, right?

[Kyle] Now he’s interested in what’s happening as well. Munching absently on his fries as he waits to see what happens.

[Mila] Well.. yay for somone else wanting to drink the rooster balls. And now that she was in the clear.. she asked. “What’s the rite for?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Just, what? Down it all at once?”

[Drinkwater] “Si…” She could see the slight quip of his brow behind his glasses. For the moment pretending not to have heard Mila’s question.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “If you’ll excuse me…it was a long drive, and I had too many caffeinated beverages on the way.” She smiles and heads for the bathroom.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Sister. She’s my sister” The previous question is answered just before she knocks the shot back all at once.

[Drinkwater] A last slide of his shaded gaze after the ‘sister’ as she made her escape. Back quick enough to witness Amunet sling down the shot. A single nod were all he gave before leaning his head back, shoulders squaring proudly. Finally answering Mila’s question. “It’s an offering for Oaya for the gringo to be easily…….seeded”

[Mila] “You’re trying to get someone pregnant?” She grinned a bit, shook her head and motioned for the bartender to pour her a new, clean drink.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Who’s the Gringo?” She does an excellent job of mostly hiding the face she wants to make, signaling the bartender to make it two.

[Drinkwater] “Among other things” He muttered with a evil snigger. But his attention had fully returned to Amunet. Now giving her that proper bow as his hand rose to his chest. “Senora Amunet, Soy Aanon Adolfus, conocido como Drinkwater. It is a true pleasure to make your acquantance.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She laughs, the sound low and throaty. “I bet you say that to all the girls that drink your balls.”

[Drinkwater] A slight roll of his shoulder. “No one important”

[Kyle] Can’t help but snicker at Amunet’s reaction to the drink. Finishes his beer and orders more fries and another beer. He’d managed to get a decent amount of cash from doing a few gigs for New Year so he was splashing out and eating. I mean what’s the worse that can happen? He puts on weight?

[Mila] She coughed and then chuckled.. oh goodness, the new girl was a hoot!

[Drinkwater] Once more shoulders straight. A glance to Mila, another back to Amunet. It were difficult to read his reaction if even he appeared to give one. Save the suckle of his tooth as he turned his attention once more to Mila. “The Hour is near, I have matters to attend.” Turning back to Amunet. A slight bow of his head before he started away towards the door.

[Drinkwater] (thanks for the scene folks..early day..must head out)

[Drinkwater] (Thanks..enjoyed meeting you both)
to Amunet Trujillo, Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Kyle] (thanks. take it easy)

[Mila] Mila chuckled and snagged her new drink. “Wow.. uh.. thanks for biting.. or.. rather swallowing the bullet there..”

[Amunet Trujillo] That wasn’t at all the reaction she was expecting, and it’s obvious. She watches Aanon walk away, then gives Kyle and Mila a bright smile. “Going to check on my sis. Be right back.” And she’s quickly on her way to the bathroom to get rid of the contents of her stomach.

[Kyle] He’s not one to laugh a lot. Sure he chuckle and laughs as most people do. But rarely does he give a deep side splitting. But when Amunet rushes off he can’t help it. Despite his ragged voice the laugh is heard clearly and gets a surprised look from some of the regulars. They’ve never heard him laugh like this before. And then it starts. The reason he doesn’t laugh like this often. A horrific gut wretching, throat tearing cough causes him to double over. It doesn’t last long but it causes his face to go red as he motions grabs his new beer and almost drains it in one go. Gasping softly as he continues to smile.

[Mila] “Ya alright there, Kyle?”

[Kyle] Smirks as he nods and orders another drink. Looking to Mila as he wipes tears from his eyes. His voice more ragged as he speaks.
“Yeah I’m fine. Couldn’t help it. Was just such a hoot to see her rush off like that.”

[Mila] “Damn straight..” She smirked. “That was the funniest thing I’ve seen all night.”

“And.. I’m very glad she decided to step up and drink that nasty .. nasty thing..”

[Kyle] Smirks as he tries not to laugh again.
“You mean you don’t get guys offering you ballsy drinks often?”

[Mila] “No.. never have actually.. and I.. think I’m ok with that.” a beat. “Straight up is good with me.. and when I say on the rocks.. I mean with ice..”

[Amunet Trujillo] She strolls back, and as casually as possible downs her waiting shot.

[Mila] “Things better now?”

[Kyle] Nods as he salutes with his beer.
“Agree. Made a trip to the Amazon a few years back and had some interesting dishes there. But got to admit that drink was a first.”
Looks to Amunet and smiles
“Need a toothbrush?”

[Mila] “I have a mint..?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Right as rain. Who the hell was that?” She smiles sweetly at Kyle. “You act like that’s the first time I’ve had balls in my mouth.”

[Mila] .. Mila just blinked.. and took a sip of her drink.

And a moment later she spoke up again. “Aanon Drinkwater.. one of my very.. very strange packmates.”

[Kyle] Smirks as a he raises a brow
“Well there goes that mystery. I never make assumptions about a ladies preferences.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “So there’s pretty much no chance that he just tried to kill me?” She looks to Mila, then back to Kyle. “Dude. She’s my sister. Half sister. For real.”

[Mila] “Na.. I seriously doubt it. He’s just strange.. he isn’t homicidal to people he doesn’t know.” She shook her head slightly, still smirking.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Finally, she makes her way back from the bathroom–and probably a cigarette or two to boot, considering the amount of time she was gone. She smiles as she comes up and retakes her seat. “What’d I miss?”

[Kyle] “You know, might need to explain to him ladies these days prefer different pickup lines.”
Smiles as he picks at the fresh bowl of fries in front of him.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Nothing” She turns the sweet smile on Sarita now.

[Mila] “Were you here for the part where your sister drank some rooster balls?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Amy, chica…you ~know~ I ain’t buyin’ that.” She grins at Amy and then shakes her head to Mila. “No, but I kinda saw it coming. That was just before nature called.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “And you skittered out like a little bitch”

[Mila] “You should be proud..”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, I could have peed on the stool, but I try not to mark territory THAT quickly.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “We’re just a classy couple of bitches, aren’t we?” She winks at Kyle, reaching over and helping herself to one of his fries.

[Mila] “Dang straight.. I’m sure a few of the guys around here will appreciate that..”

“Welcome to Chicago..”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Class is my middle fuckin’ name.” She grins and then nods her head appreciatively to Mila. “Gracias. Lovin’ it so far.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “So the big guy said something about

[Amunet Trujillo] (oops. So just ignore that.)

[Mila] “If ya’ll plan to stay here.. just ask one of the kin back in the kitchen what rooms are open – they’ll help ya out and all that. Oh.. and be warned, there is crap going down just north of here.. but they seem to have gone back underground for the moment. I’m sure they’ll pop up again soon.. so don’t take the lull in action around here as permanent..”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh? What kind of crap?”

[Mila] “Hive – to the north in the hills.”

[Kyle] “Welcome to crash in my room if needed. Has two beds and I rarely sleep in there anyway.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Hive?” She visibly perks.

[Mila] “Mmmhmm.. and they ain’t bees darlin’.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She shoots a look at Amy, as if to say Down girl, and nods to Kyle. “Appreciated. We might just.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “That would be helpful” She nods at Kyle. “Really helpful. Where do you usually sleep?” She’s all excited about the prospect of a hive, and much more lively than she was moments ago.

[Amunet Trujillo] “We’re in next time there’s hive action” She nods, ignoring the look from Sarita.

[Kyle] “There’s a place over in Bronzeville I crash at if I’m that side of town. Otherwise I sleep here but tends to be on the couches upstairs or the floor of my room….Depends on when I finally fall asleep really.”
Raises a brow at Amunet’s excitement over a hive.

[Mila] “I’m sure it will sometime soon.. or it’ll stay quiet for awhile, either way.. we’ll make do.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She nods, her expression directed at Mina reading somewhere along the lines of Yes, my loco-ass sister is serious.

[Mila] She doesn’t really buy that the kin wants to be involved in it. All the kin she knew ended up dead after trying dumb ass stuff like that.. or, on the other hand.. a trueborn or two ended up dead while trying save said kin’s ass.

Usually, kin are smart enough to stay out of the main fray. Some.. just aren’t. This ia girl who drank rooster balls afterall.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Soo…besides Hives and drinking poultry genitals, what do you do for fun around here?”

[Mila] “Well.. this is a major metropolitan area.. so.. there’s pretty much anything you want to do for fun offered. It just depends on what you like to do.. right Kyle?”

[Kyle] Nods as he sips from his beer.
“There’s loads to do in this city. What sort of stuff do you ladies like to do for fun?”

[Mila] “Ladies.. it was a pleasure meeting you.. and I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon.. but for now, I shall leave Kyle to keep you entertained..”

Mila smiled and slid off of the barstool. A moment later she was wandering out the front door.

{Night all, thanks for playing}

[Kyle] Looks to Mila and can’t help but chuckle
“I’ve been entertaining for the last 3 days. My fingers are going to fall off.”
Grins as he gives a casual wave to Mila and then looks at the others.

[Amunet Trujillo] “That sounds really dirty, kid.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh, probably the same thing most girls like to do. Chew bubblegum, run out of bubblegum, kick ass…hmm. What else?” She looks at Amy, chuckling at her comment.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Mostly just the ass kicking, really.”

[Kyle] “Not my mind in the gutter is it?”
Smirks as he east some of the fries.
“Been doing gigs for the new year. Some of the local bands needed a stand in. Least I have some cash for a while. Nice way to start the year.”
Raises a brow as he ponders that and looks to Amunet.
“You know self defense?

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Blasting Ke$ha and Euro synthpop while driving through the ghetto…also fun.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “She likes to think she does.” She winks at Amy, tone teasing.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Oh, fuck you.” She jabs at Sarita with an elbow, and nods at Kyle. “Mostly combat though. I’ve been on hunts.”

[Kyle] “Really?
He seems shocked. Sure he’d heard of kin joining in hunts and battles but never actually met anyone who survived. Mind you he’s not even sure he could fight if he tried.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hey!” She overacts to the jab, theatrically flailing as she pretends to be severely wounded to the point of slowly falling to the floor.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Really. One of us has to fight. She’s pathetic” Gesturing to the falling Sarita and grinning.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I’m done for…” She flails weakly on the ground. “You have to be strong from here…treat Harry right….and don’t let the Bitchmobile…fall…apaaaaart…” She goes limp, but for the laughter that she’s unsuccessfully stifling.

[Kyle] He watches the pair and chuckles softly. Then he starts to remember how things used to be. Remembering people long since gone and he looks at his beer in silence before giving a slight salute with it seeimingly to someone in front of him but there’s no one there. Sipping his beer he nods absently.
“Sounds like you two have a rather interesting time together. You always travelled together?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Fuck no. I’ve only known her about a year.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She finally gives up and climbs to her feet. “Nope. Only about a year now. Which is also, not coincidentally, the amount of time we’ve known each other.” She sits back down on her stool.

[Kyle] “Oh? Not meaning to pry but have you both only recently been travelling?”
He’s curious since he’s been travelling for almost half his life. To him it was normal.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Since I was about 18, myself. Her, a bit less.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Just a couple of years for me. It suits me though.” She nods. “Where’s your family at, kid?” She persists with the pet name, though she’s at the most just a couple years older than him.

[Bridget] [Where is everyone located?]

[Kyle] “Got none. They all died years ago. Have an adopted aunt who’s out in the world some place but she’s repacked. Been solo since then.”
Gives a warm smile which seems to show he’s said all the goodbyes he can ever say.

[Amunet Trujillo] (At the bar)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[All sitting at the bar.]]

[Amunet Trujillo] She nods a little. “Us too”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She nods a little, the gesture remarkably similar to Amy’s. “Yeah. But then, that’s more the norm for us that it is for others. The lack of ties, at least, if not the reason.”

[Bridget] Things aren’t all bad. Her roomates aren’t there, but the ambient noise of the city is too much to keep the bumpkin asleep for long. Finally she gets sick of it, puts on a warmer looking black tracksuit, a Calgary Flames hoodie, two pairs of socks, and her usual black combat boots. The hoodie is unzipped as she does some quick stretches, decends the staircase in a fit of cabin fever, and leaves the Brotherhood for a good run.

She just can’t stand it anymore.

[Kyle] “Part of who we are as a family. We have none yet are all over the world. Most others don’t under stand that aspect.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks over her shoulder, watching the girl run through the place and out, before looking back at Kyle and giving a little smile. “Exactly. Just the way it is.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “How long did you say you’ve been here, Kyle?”

[Kyle] “That reminds me. There’s a couple of other family in the city but they’re the typical ghosts we all are. There’s Thoth and Alexa. Both trues, not sure Thith but Alexa is a Raggie. There’s also Kaitlyn who usually crashes over at the place I mentioned in Bronzeville. Gina hasn’t been around for months so not sure if she’s coming back or not.”[i]
Clears his throat as he sips his beer and ponders the question.
[i]”Been here for about three years now I think. Have spent a good deal of that time travelling one errands and doing contract jobs for other septs. Tend to keep to myself so not too familiar with locals or politics.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She commits the names to memory. “Good to know.”

[Kyle] (Sorry bout all the typos lol)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[No worries. 🙂 ]]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “But yeah, keeping out of politics is usually a good move. Hand-to-hand combat is less cutthroat than politics, and I mean that in the literal sense.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “So what’s the set up up there?” She gestures to the stairs. “Like dorms, or like what? Can we get a hot shower here?” The girl is hot shower obsessed, after all.

[Kyle] “Not much of a fighter myself. Bout the only thing I can beat up is a set of drums.”
Chuckles as he munches on some more fries.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Damn, chica. How many showers you plan on takin’ today?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I’m looking at the future, woman. Not going to agree to stay here if there’s not a hot shower in it.

[Kyle] “Communal showers and bathrooms. Lots of space and hot water. Ther’es a common room for vegging out in and a laundry as well. About 10 or so rooms up there ranging from single to triple. Can give you the two cent tour if you like?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Hell, I’d be happy with the nickle tour.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “She’s a high roller, as you can see.”

[Kyle] Smiles as he finishes off his fries and downs the remainder of his beer. Slowly stands up as he sways a little. The beers starting to kick in finally.
“Way I see if if I have two coins in my wallet that’s the high life.”
Grins as he steps back and offers a bow.
“Ready for the tour ladies.”
Smiles as he casually heads for the stairs

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She hops off her stool, rolls her shoulders to settle the duster back on her naturally, and follows.

[Amunet Trujillo] She follows too, letting Sarita lead the way.

[Kyle] Making his way up the stairs he tries to not make too much noise. Never know who’s here most of the time.
“This here’s the common room. Lots of space and don’t do like Hunter and leave trophies up here. The owners don’t like that. “
As they step htrough the door he points to the left.
“Laundry is that way. The corridor to the right goes all the way around. There’s rooms all the way around.”
Following the corridor to the junction he points right.
“I’m in the room at the end of the hall and the bathrooms and showers are in the middle section there.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “And you’ll just share your room? Fuck me… ” She looks around, obviously impressed.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks in each direction he points, nodding. “Chill room, laundry, rooms, showers…” She looks back at Amy with a laugh. “Great wording there, Ames.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Not all of us got to go to charm school.”

[Kyle] “When it comes to family always happy to share. If you can’t share for family then you can’t be considered family.”
Chuckles at Amunet’s reaction and just smiles.
“Alexa may crash there some times if she’s in the area. But sure you ladies can fight that stuff out.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “That wasn’t charm school, sweetie. That was Phrasing Things Like You’re Not A Drunken Prom Date School.” She winks at Amy and then nods at Kyle. “You got a good philosophy.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Details.” She snorts at Sarita.

[Kyle] Laughs as he makes his way towards his room. The door left open since he’s not too worried about stuff going missing. Against one wall sits two back packs and a guitar case. The beds look barely used. On one bed there’s several sketch pads and assorted implements for painting and drawing.
“I’ll clear my stuff up if you need the beds now.”
He knew he had an unusal sleep schedule but didn’t know what there’s was normally like.

[Amunet Trujillo] “We’ve got a motel room for the next couple of days. After that, though…”

[Kyle] “Cool. Well my door is always open for you both.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “You da man. Thanks.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Thanks.” She nods, giving him a bright smile.

[Amunet Trujillo] (Must sleep! Work in the morning.)

[Kyle] (No probs. Got to bail and sort stuff out here. Thanks for the scene 🙂 )

[Amunet Trujillo] (Thanks! 🙂 )

[Kyle] (Later 🙂 )

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Thank you!]]

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