Amy and Sarita Get To Know Their Fellow Newbies

Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“…and then she just walked out, leaving him pretty much speechless.” She slides out of the driver’s side door of the Van, slamming it shut. “Not that anyone wouldn’t be speechless after that.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“She laughs, head back as she slams the passenger door behind her. “No shit? Goddamn. Did the poor thing recover?” Her jacket is zipped against the cold as she shivers and waits for Sarita to come around the front of the van.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Yeah, eventually. With some adjusting of the pants and a bit of stammering.” She grins, coming around. “I gotta admit, it was pretty damned priceless.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“That just proves men are pigs. You would think that the implied threat of death would negate any need for pants adjusting.” She pulls an almost empty pack of cigarettes out of her pocket and frowns. “We need to get some money.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Hmmm.” She looks over at Amy and nods. “Yeah, probably a good idea. I need to talk to my new supplier here anyway. I’ll give him a call so I can get going. ’bout time I got off my ass and started pulling in a bit of dough.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Damned right. I have certain requirements that aren’t being met, and if you don’t start making some money, I might have to make an impression on you.” She raises a hand threateningly, then laughs again

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
A chuckle rises up from her. “I’ll do what I can to avoid the Pimp Hand of Doom.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Yeah, you better.” She grins, then starts down the street. “So anything else interesting happen?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Mmm…chatted with the Mack Daddy and his pals for a little bit. They seem tolerable, if a bit quirky.” She falls into step next to Amy, keeping her eyes on the street. “I think I missed most of the good excitement though, curse my timing.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Guess you should have ditched out on me earlier” She makes a face. “I didn’t expect that shit to take so long.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Ehh, ain’t no thing.” She shrugs. “There isn’t any kind of time table for that kind of shit…it’s cool.” She pops a crumpled, hand-rolled cigarette out of her pocket and lights it. “So what’s the plan for today?”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“We need to get our asses over and meet the important people at some point. You think Mack Daddy might be somebody we want to work with at some point?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Maybe. Only seen him twice now, and one he was all limping and shit, so he gets in his share of trouble. That could be good for us.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“I like trouble.” She nods approvingly.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“You and me both. I guess it depends on figuring out some dynamics of how people get along, but he’s not bad. You met anyone fun yet?”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Fun, yes. Useful, no. But he was fun.” She grins again, grabbing the cigarette and taking a drag before handing it back.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She arches a brow, grinning madly. “You dog. Anyone I should know?”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Maybe. Not that I remember his name.” She shrugs, looking completely unapologetic.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
A shake of the head, and she chuckles. “Am I a bad influence on you? If so, then good.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“No, I was a wanton slut way before you came along. I grew up in a sept full of Get. What was I supposed to do?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Man, if that doesn’t prove that we’re related, nothing would.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“If you have a thing for fucking Get men, I don’t want to know. Isn’t that like, the BIG big rule?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She elbows Amy with a smirk. “I meant the wanton slut part, bitch. Yes, that is the big rule. Along with ‘Stay away from concentric, consistently-shrinking pathways.'”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Lucky me, not having all these silly rules to follow.” She elbows back and points at a coffee shop. “I’m freezing. I want a latte.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Technically, you do have to follow some rules, you know.” She nods and alters her course to head for the shop. “Not that I’m gonna play enforcer. Just sayin’.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Seen and not heard and all that shit? Yeah. We know how well I follow those.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Well, more the ‘Respect your elders’ and such. ‘Don’t hang out with evil fuckstains,’ shit like that.” She holds the door open for Amy. “At some point someone may try to put pressure on you to be made into an honest woman. Ain’t gonna be me, mind.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Which is where we get to the ‘You’re expected to pop out crotch fruit’ part” Her nose wrinkles and she steps into the warmth of the shop. “No fucking way.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Hey, like I said…ain’t gonna be me. An’ I’ll do what I can if and when to block it from ya. I’m just saying, might happen.” She follows behind.

[Amunet Trujillo]
“If it happens here, we’ll spilt. Just like Denver.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Gonna run out of cities eventually, you know.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Here. Then we still have Europe and shit. And by then I’ll probably be dead anyway.” It’s matter of fact enough to disturb the poor woman waiting in line ahead of them, and she makes a hasty retreat from the shop once she has her tea.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Please, I’ll be wormfood LONG before you’re kicking up daisies.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Only because you can’t fight for shit.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Fuck off.” She smirks. “I can fight just fine, thank you. And I have Harry to be my backup when I need.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Which is a lot.” She smirks, then orders her coffee.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Again with the fuck off.” She gets her own coffee, a quad shot Americano.

[Amunet Trujillo]
“So what’s our next move here? We should find somebody to hook up with pretty quick.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“We gotta meet some more peeps, first.” She heads to a table away from everyone else, and takes a seat. “Can’t just hook up with the first band that we come across. Maybe meet the bigwigs, like you said.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Might not be bad to have friends here before we meet the bigwigs though. Just in case.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Which brings us back to the meeting more peeps. Which means you gotta stop cruising bars for dick and start getting out and about.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“We’re out and about now, aren’t we?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Yeah, but not in the right places. It’s a shot in the dark that we’ll find our kinda people around here.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“So it might be cruising bars while looking for dick. You don’t know.” She sticks her tongue out at Sarita and takes her coffee.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Then I gotta get out there and start getting laid. Seriously though, I was more thinking our new home away from home or the like myself.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Yeah. Last time we tried to hang out there, some creepy fuck had me drinking rooster balls.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Jesus, you’re so sensitive…one set of testicles slides down your throat and you’re all skittish to hang out there again.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“I don’t mind testicles down my throat, as long as they’re connected to someone.” This is enough to drive the rest of the respectable folk out of the shop, leaving them with their choice of tables.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She laughs, ignoring the fleeing people and the shocked employees. “Dude, chica, if you can get them all the way down your throat WHILE they’re still connected, I would be impressed.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
She just answers with a sweet smile, sipping her latte

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She grins. “Bullshit. You’re a dirty, dirty liar.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“You’ll never know, will you? But I will remind you that you got out of jail in that shitty little town in Missouri without either of us posting a cent of bail.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“One-a these days I’m gonna get a carrot and find out the truth of these no gag reflex boasts you keep making.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“You’ve been fucking guys with carrot shaped dicks? Goddamn. No wonder you’re cranky.” She gestures outside. “You want to head over to the house, then?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She finishes up the coffee and nods. “Sounds like a plan.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
She makes her way upstairs, flopping onto the couch dramatically. “Jesus fuck it’s cold out there.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Hey, you think I’m gonna disagree?” She sheds her duster, draping it over the one side of the couch before she settles down on the floor to go through some back-popping twists of her body. “New Mexico born and bred, bi-atch.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Yeah Yeah. So tell me more about this guy last night”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Ain’t a whole lot to say.” She settles one foot on the other side of her leg and twists her upper body in the opposite direction, resulting in the appropriate pops and a contented sigh. “Generally an ass, but that’s nothing different from us. Got a pack member or two, both guys. Had some wierdness with his vision last night that I’m not sure about. Didn’t ask.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Pack of three guys. I like it already. What about the bitch?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Who, Miss Let-Me-Show-You-My-Tongue-At-Extreme-Close-Up?”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“That’s the one.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Dunno. I met her for all of five seconds. She’s got some skittish chick she’s here with.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Skittish Garou that I should be scare of, or skittish Kin that I can fuck with?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She pops her back the other direction, then lies back on the floor. “I didn’t exactly ask for her membership card so I could check. Be nice…ish. If I gotta be nice, you gotta be nice.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Nice is overrated.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Yes, but we need friends. Remember that conversation we were just having, ADD-girl?”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Am I wrong, though?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Usually.” She grins.

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Oh fuck off.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She laughs a little. “I’m just sayin, we gotta be somewhat nice for now. I’m not saying sugar and spice and everything nice, just not complete bitches. We need friends.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Alright. I’ll play nice. For now. Any idea where the remote is?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Check the cushions.” She arches her back off the floor, arms over her head and stretching in a cat-like manner.

[Amunet Trujillo]
“You check the cushions” She apparently doesn’t care enough to actually get up and look for it.

[Tabitha Reese]
The Fury makes her way up the stairs first, as if checking things out before letting her packmate up.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Bitch, YOU’RE on the couch. Check the fuckin’ cushions.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Eh. Fuck it. There probably ain’t shit on anyway.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“You’re impossible. More than me, and that’s fuckin’ saying something.” She sits up, noting Tabitha coming up the stairs, and grins. “Well, hola.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Hey.” She nods to Sarita, motioning Tala up the stairs.

[Tala Whitedeer]
She follows Tabitha, looking around.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“I remember you too.” She hops up off the floor. “S’up?”

[Tabitha Reese]
Her eyes narrow for a moment before she places Sarita. “Oh. From last night. Right. How are you?” She looks Amy over quickly.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Not too bad. Yourself?” She looks at Amy. “This is the one I was telling you about.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Ooooooh…..” She nods slowly, understanding dawning as she sizes up both the women.

[Tala Whitedeer]
She’s too busy taking in the environment to really pay much attention to the others right now.

[Tabitha Reese]
Her eyes narrow at the kin. “What?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She chuckles. “Chill. This is my hermana Amy. I just mentioned meeting you last night to her.” She pauses. “Oh, right. I’m Sarita, by the way.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Tabitha. This is Tala” She reaches out to tug the other girl’s arm and get her attention.

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Hm? What?”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Pay attention, weirdo. We’re meeting people.” She smiles, the name clearly affectionate.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She smiles and waves. “Hola. We met briefly last night.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Oh. Hi. I’m Tala.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“So I heard. Nice to meet you.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Hey. Amy, like she said.” They are both sized up quickly, and she settles into the couch again.

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Hi. It’s nice to meet you.” She doesn’t seem as ill-at-ease as she did last night, much calmer.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She smiles and sits back down on the floor. “So, you guys new around here too, or is it just us?”

[Tabitha Reese]
“New, yes. How long have you been here?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Mmm, about a week or so.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Oh. That’s still longer than us.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She grins at Amy. “Does that mean we’ve lost our new car smell?”

[Amunet Trujillo]
She scrambles up and leans to sniff at Sarita “Yep! Now you just smell like skank.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“That’s ’cause I need to hose down the van since you’ve been sleeping inside it.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
She looks between Amy and Sarita blankly.

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Fuck you. I don’t smell like skank.”

[Tabitha Reese]
She watches the interaction between the two, hooking her arm through Tala’s protectively.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“What was last night’s name again?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Why do they talk to each other like that?” She doesn’t lower her voice or anything, looking at Tabitha.

[Amunet Trujillo]
“I kept screaming ‘Oh God, Oh God’, but I don’t think that’s his name.”

[Tabitha Reese]
She shrugs a shoulder, still just observing.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“And you’re not the one with the skank smell. Riiiiight.” She looks at the other two women and gives them a quick grin and wink.

[Tala Whitedeer]
She looks completely lost.

[Tabitha Reese]
“The implication is that she’s a slut, Tal.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Oh. Is she?”

[Tabitha Reese]
“I don’t know.” She looks Amy over. “Are you?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Only in the nicest definition of the word.” She scoots back to lay against the front of the couch from her spot on the floor. “Feel free to get comfy.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Um. No.” She scowls at Tabitha.

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Don’t look at her that way.” She glares at Amy.

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Or what?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Just don’t.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Or what?” She stands up.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She frowns. “Wow. Can we not be getting into threat mode already? Amy, sit down. And you,” she looks at Tala. “Looks don’t kill. Chill the fuck out.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
She scowls. “Don’t tell me what to do. Only Tabby tells me what to do.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
‘Fine, Tabby? Tell her to chill the fuck out.”

[Tabitha Reese]
She sighs. “Chill the fuck out, Tal.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Gracias. Amy…Recuerde, se supone que debemos ser agradable. No me hagas ser una perra a usted aquí.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
She scowls at Sarita for a moment, then shrugs and flops back into the couch. “Fine”

[Tala Whitedeer]
She gives Tabitha one of THOSE looks, but quiets down abruptly.

[Tabitha Reese]
“Good. Pissing contest over now?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Well, that’s out of the way.” She grins brightly. “Only go uphill from here, right?”

[Amunet Trujillo]
She’s glowering now, but stays quiet.

[Tala Whitedeer]
“I wasn’t…” She huffs at Tabitha, glowering just like Amy.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Alll righty, then. So, how about that fucking cold-ass weather? Or alternately, insert your own awkward segueway here that we can build off of.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“I heard you like to kiss other Garou.” Not exactly an awkward segueway…

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
You can practically hear the internal facepalm going on in her head. It’s an amused facepalm though, from the look on her face.

[Tabitha Reese]
She looks Amy over again, slowly “Only when I have to.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Hey, I said it in an impressed way for the record. Shut his ass up.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Doesn’t seem like much else was going to. You know him?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“You did what?”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Nothing” She gives Tala a sweet smile.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Only briefly. Saw him getting helped out of the bathroom here by his green-eyed friend, and the guy Patrick was there to help. Then saw him last night when I saw y’all.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Tabby. What did you do?”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Nothing, Tal. I kissed him to shut him up. Which worked. It was nothing.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Great. So we’re in town a couple days and now everyone thinks you’re a charach.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Oh, it’s not that bad. Only she, he and I were there. And I doubt he’s going to want to admit that he didn’t stop her from doing it, so…”

[Tabitha Reese]
“No they don’t. Jesus.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Those are the only ones you know of were there.” She shoots Tabitha a look.

[Tabitha Reese]
“Oh for god’s sake, Tal. It wasn’t a big deal.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Fine. Whatever. Let’s not talk about you being a slut.” Her tone is vaguely teasing, but there’s a sharp edge to it.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She rolls her eyes and looks away, letting them argue.

[Tabitha Reese]
“Yeah, okay. I’m a slut.” She rolls her eyes.

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Well, at least you can admit it.” That actually seems to relax her somewhat.

[Hatchet]
[Locations! Et cetera!]

[Amunet Trujillo]
She shrugs at Sarita, looking vaguely amused.

[Amunet Trujillo]
(All upstairs, couch-ish)

[Tabitha Reese]
“What the fuck is your problem?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She shrugs back to Amy, as if to say “whatever, let them sort it out.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“I don’t have a problem.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“So you’re just being a bitch for no reason?”

[Amunet Trujillo]
She moves a little bit closer to Sarita, though apparently only to get a better view of the oncoming fight.

[Tala Whitedeer]
“I’m not being a bitch to be bothered by you running around slutting it up.”

[Quinn]
There are voices in the common room. A tall dark-haired kinswoman wanders her way up the stairs from the kitchen. She’s dressed in hat and gloves and scarf, jeans and sneakers, and a leather jacket. She smells like the outdoors and, for those with a nose for it, there’s an air about her that calls to mind emerald fields overlooking cold grey oceans.

She is Quinn. And she’s come home from wherever she went today. She offers a smile and a wave to the people in the common room. “Evenin’.”

[Tabitha Reese]
She nods to Quinn instead of biting Tala’s head off, but there’s a definite simmering irritation surrounding her now. “Hey.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She looks over at Quinn and gives her a little smile and nod. “Hola hola.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
She’s scowling, now, laning against the closest wall.

[Quinn]
The Fianna woman doesn’t stick around for longer than that. She heads down the hall and disappears into room 4. A few moments later, she emerges in a grey t-shirt with what look like painted on black hearts, and a pair of black lounge pants. Her hair is down, falling in loose waves over her shoulders, and her feet are bare.

In one hand she holds a red toothbrush and a tube of tooth paste. She disappears into the bathroom.

[Hatchet]
Down the hall a door opens up. Down the hall some footsteps come walking, far softer than they should considering the size of the owner of the feet and the heaviness of the boots, and then around the corner comes a man who fills the room by presence and, to some extent, size. He looks like he could be an Ahroun, albeit one with muscle more lean than bulky. There’s a scar notching his eyebrow, there’s a scar along the right side of his throat, there are five white lines of scar tissue running down each forearm, elbows to wrists. His rage flows into the room well ahead of him, a wall, a wave, a surge. It’s as intense as any Ahroun’s.

His eyes are a pale gray, almost colorless tonight. His t-shirt is black. His jeans are fraying at the seams a bit. His boots are black. The man’s hair — a bit on the longish side — is a bronzelike color, not quite red enough to mark him as a member of his tribe, not fair enough to suggest a tribe of finer breeding. He’s a few inches over six feet, and when he enters the common room he looks across the group of women.

Quinn passes him and his eyes leave them instantly. He watches her til she gets down the hall, then looks back to the others.

Something about him — his stance, his scent, his presence — hints at authority. At rank. He can sense the tension in the room without needing to interpret glares or body language — its in the air. Then he decides to be polite.

“Buried Hatchet,” he says, “Fostern Half Moon of Stag.” No pack is mentioned. No totem. No titles beyond his deed name.

[Amunet Trujillo]
She stretches, cat like, standing up slowly. “Sar, I think I’m going to go to-” She looks Hatchet over with an expression that Sarita has seen before. “Bed…”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She looks up at Hatchet from the couch. “Hola. Sarita Eco de la Risa, Cliath Ragabash of Owl. That’s my sister, Amy.” She looks at Amy, giving her a ‘not a good idea’ look.

[Tala Whitedeer]
She pushes herself off the wall, offering the newcomer a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Hello. Tala Whitedeer. Cliath Theurge of Uktena’s children.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Tabitha Reese. Fury.” She’s still pissy, and it shows.

[Amunet Trujillo]
Sighing, she looks to Sarita. “Oh mi dios lo quiero. ¿Puedo quedarme con él, por favor?”

[Hatchet]
The man in the room with them now makes most Kinfolk who meet him uncomfortable. Some of them he outright terrifies whether he even looks at them or not. There is at least one kinswoman in this city who doesn’t bat an eyelash at him, but she was once mated to an Athro Ahroun whose rage made Hatchet’s look like a candleflame against an inferno.

Amunet isn’t terrified. And he nods to Sarita and Tala and Tabitha as they introduce themselves by mortal names, something he notes but doesn’t comment on. Then Amuent sighs, and speaks, and a faint tug appears at the corner of Hatchet’s mouth. He’s leaning on the doorframe at the moment, arms crossed over his chest. The tug is more smirk than smile, but it’s not unfriendly. Just… amused.

“Love me?” he echoes. “Usted apenas me conoció,” he goes on, in a chiding tone of voice. His arms unfold, and he heads into the room, taking up a seat on one of the seats of the sectional with… a decent amount of space between himself and the group of females. “Y yo soy una mala noticia.”

Hatchet leans back, putting his feet up. “Ask anyone.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She grins at Hatchet’s response, looking back at Amy. “BUS-ted…”

[Amunet Trujillo]
She at least has the good grace to look mortified, not bothering to correct that love wasn’t exactly what she was thinking. Making a face at Sarita, she pulls together what’s left of her dignity and looks back to Hatchet. “Las malas noticias es mi favorito. Cualquier otra lengua que debería evitar con ustedes si no quieren que usted saber lo que estoy diciendo sobre usted?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
She takes a step closer to Tabitha and leans in to speak quietly to her.

[Hatchet]
He certainly doesn’t look like someone who speaks Spanish. This deep into winter his skin retains a faint golden brown tan, something genetic more than having to do with the sun. His eyes aren’t emerald green, his hair isn’t livid red, his skin isn’t pale and freckled. He doesn’t much look like a Fiann… or like a Fenrir, for that matter. But the Garou in the room can scent him easily enough and tell that the man has nothing when it comes to purity of blood.

His eyes flick over to Tala whispering to Tabitha, and tsks softly. “So rude,” he murmurs, not terribly invested in whether they’re rude or not. His eyes go back to the Strider sisters.

“I was packed with an Uktena Ahroun by the name of Muerte Fría for a number of years,” he explains, as far as his grasp of Spanish goes. There’s a pause, something flickering in his eyes. “Though it was a Child of Gaia named Mender of Words who taught me the language.”

A beat, and he goes on, directly to Amunet this time: “Oh, stop flirting,” he says, his lips twisted wryly, still amused. “You’re the one trying to hide things. Now go to bed before your sister spanks you,” he adds, jerking his head at the door to the hallway.

[Tabitha Reese]
She nods at whatever Tala says, and bumps her shoulder against hers. “You know better than that.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
She just shrugs, starting to look a little overwhelmed with all the new people showing up.

[Amunet Trujillo]
She snorts. “I’m not flirting. You’re a lot cuter before you open your mouth.” She settles back into the couch, apparently intent on staying up just because she was ordered not to.

[Tabitha Reese]
She keeps her voice low. “Are you okay? Do you want to go?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“I’m fine.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She smirks, looking between Hatchet and Amy. She’s not intervening yet, curious to see how it plays out.

[Patrick Llewelyn]
Patrick doesn’t even go here anymore.

That, of course, never stopped his Alpha from making nightly visits and right now, it isn’t stopping the broad-shouldered Galliard from loping up the stairs from the restaurant, his breeding and Rage heralding him whether he wants it to or not. For once, he’s not in his work clothing, but clean, worn in jeans, boots and what seems to be the only jacket he owns. It’s black, leather and probably came to him second hand.

He smells like the great outdoors; that being wind and snow, respectively.

When he rocks up to the second floor, he’s tucking some piece of paper into one of his pockets and running his other hand back over his head, dusting it free of snow flakes. Very clear, very bright eyes absorb the scene before him. Females — and Buried Hatchet.

He raises his eyebrows.

“Entertaining?” He says dryly.

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Not very.” She answers Patrick before actually looking at him, arms crossing over her chest.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Not yet, but I’m hopeful it’ll pick up soon,” she says to Patrick.

[Hatchet]
That, of all things, makes Hatchet grin. Broadly. He chuckles, even. And at that point he might open his mouth again, go straight on until he flat-out offends Amunet and then Sarita and probably tries to wrangle Tabitha and Tala into the party of people getting annoyed by him,

but Patrick comes upstairs, and the Fostern throws his hands out. “Patrick!” he says happily, dropping his hands again. He shrugs those broad shoulders of his, shakes his head. “No. Being entertained, yes. Those two,” and he points at Tala and Tabitha, “are passing notes in class, so be prepared for that. And that one,” he points at Amunet, “thought I was cute til she realized I’m a prick. And she,” pointing at Sarita now, “is that last one’s sister and I think she and I are going to be fantastic friends.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“She does tend to be friends with cock knockers.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Hey, now. Says you…”

[Amunet Trujillo]
“It’s true. That guy in St. Louis? And the prick with ears in Denver. Though I think you might have found your dream dick here.” Most kin would certainly have more sense than this…

[Hatchet]
If he were really an Ahroun, Hatchet might whip his head around at that, stare at Amunet, make her back down. He does give pause, and looks at her a moment, then just… looks at Patrick instead. “Or may not,” he says, dryly. “Want to grab a few shots downstairs?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
She sets her jaw, but says nothing, closing her eyes for a moment.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“First up, chica, poor choice of words. No offense,” she says as an aside to Hatchet. “Second…um. You suck.”

[Amunet Trujillo]
She scowls, pushing up from the couch suddenly and stomping off to Kyle’s room.

[Quinn]
The water running in the bathroom stops, and a door swings open, closed. Another opens, but doesn’t close. And eventually, the tall Fianna Kin makes her way back out into the common room, stopping in the hallway.

The crowd has grown. “Hey hey,” she greets again. “I’m Quinn,” she offers, and sidesteps Amunet as she heads down the hall.

[Tabitha Reese]
“Patrick, was it? Hi. I’m Tabitha, this is my packmate Tala.” She nods to Quinn, to include the arriving girl in the introduction.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She opens her mouth when Amy heads off, then shrugs and gets back to her feet. “She’ll cool off fine soon enough.” It’s said to no one in particular. “Now…where was I?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Hi. I’m Tala.”

[Patrick Llewelyn]
It’s unusual for anyone aside from Howard to look pleased to see Patrick, and it gives him a moment’s pause, he looks the Fostern over rather carefully as though checking for signs of being toyed with; then lifts both his shoulders in a rather nonplussed fashion. “Well,” he says to Hatchet graciously.

“You are a dick,” his eyes flick over the assembled women. “But then, so am I, so yeah let’s take our dicks downstairs and do some shots.” That was either a mistake, or entirely intended to sound the way it does. He watches Amunet push off the couch and stomp off.

Shakes his head, brow furrowing. “I’m so glad I don’t live here anymore.” Quinn emerges; and gets a nod up from the Cliath. Then Tabitha is introducing himself; those blue eyes swing to her. “Hey, uh, how’s it going.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Is that an open invitation for shots? Or is it boys only tonight?”

[Patrick Llewelyn]
[er, HERSELF. OOPS.]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She looks over at Quinn when she comes in, nodding with a lopsided grin. “Hola. We may have met already. I’m losing track. I’m Sarita”

[Quinn]
Quinn nods here and there, and waves, and shakes her head No, she’d remember if she’d met Sarita.

She looks at Patrick, and she smiles. It grows slowly on her pretty face, and her shoulders lift, but eventually she just shakes her head. “Hon, it’s going smashingly. I don’t know if you noticed it yet, but I had to leave my truck by your place. I know it’s pretty much a lost cause, but if you think you can work your magic and resurrect it from the jaws of death I will get you free drinks until the end of time.”

[Hatchet]
No offense, Sarita says to Hatchet, but he’s talking to Patrick, and just shrugs it off. He doesn’t even seem to notice Amunet stomping off, though he does indeed notice Quinn coming back in. But he’s still talking to Patrick.

“Yes,” he says, not arguing. “Yes, I am. I am a dick in dire need of whisky, and then I can scold you about flirting, too. I mean it’s bad enough when kin not of my tribe do it, Patrick,” he says, lifting himself to his feet and heading for the stairs, “but you and your packmate are already building a horrendous reputation without dragging me into it. Quinn,” he says without missing a beat, as though they’ve been introduced, as though they’ve ever met in person, “you come get some shots, too.” Tabitha asks if she can come, and Hatchet just shrugs, as though to say knock yourself out!

He heads down the stairs, yammering aloud and picking up where he left off. “You know, bitching about how glad you are about something is still bitching. Was it strictly necessary to say that aloud just so all of us know how anti-social and above it all you are? We’ve had this conversation before, Patrick –”

and that’s the point where the women upstairs lose track of what he’s saying as distance muffles it, but if Patrick is indeed walking with him, and if Quinn is, they can hear this as he goes on:

“– you’re entirely too concerned with people knowing how you feel about everything. You could achieve the exact same effect by just glowering every time someone speaks to you. Come on, there’s a bottle for me in the pantry that Jenny said is all mine if I promise not to beat anyone up for at least two months. And it’s a pretty big bottle, I think she’s trying to pacify me.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Jesus…” She blinks after Hatchet, then looks to Tala and Sarita. “What do you think?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She arches her eyebrow as Hatchet directs his attention away, and then decides to sit back and watch.

[Tala Whitedeer]
“What do you want to do?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“What do I think of what? I’m fucking lost now.” She grins.

[Tabitha Reese]
“I could use a drink, but there seems to be a pretty thick film of crazy on that one, so…” She shrugs and looks at Quinn again. “What happened to your truck?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Alright. We can stay up here then.” She shrugs.

[Quinn]
Quinn doesn’t follow down immediately. Her brows rise when she’s addressed directly by the stranger. She was a bit too late for his introduction, doesn’t yet know that he’s the one her employee called her about earlier in the week.

He leaves in his wake a cluster of confused and vaguely baffled females, Quinn among them. She winks at Tabitha before pushing off from the frame.

“If he’s Fianna it just comes with the territory. And it got pretty smashed.” A shrug, and Quinn starts down the stairs, saying over her shoulder, “A state I’m happy to join it in.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Do I smell or something? Seriously. I’ve never seen a room fill up and clear out that fast.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She chuckles. “Like I said. Totally fucking lost on what just happened.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“They’re going to drink,” she volunteers helpfully.

[Tabitha Reese]
“Me too.” She bumps against Tala again. “Feel better now?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“I’m fine.”

[Patrick Llewelyn]
To say Patrick’s face falls when Quinn mentions her truck being (likely) beyond repair is an understatement. The man looks rather crushed, all told. For a moment there’s actual emotion present in his eyes, straining into tiny lines around them; lining his brow. “O, dduw. A’n dlawd beiriant,” he murmurs in what could easily be considered Gaelic, or some variation of it.

He’s giving the common room a distracted, general sort of wave and jerking his head at Quinn to follow if she wants and they can hear the Fiann retorting as his feet clomp back down the stair-well. “Dude, okay, for one thing, I haven’t flirted with anyone. You can blame Howard for whatever has been doing the rounds and secondly, so what if I bitch aloud?

Someone needs to say what’s on their mind in this city and either I do it, or you get Howard’s version.”

Then his voice is muffled by distance.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“I got that part…thanks though.” She smiles to Tala, the expression actually fairly gentle for once and not the variation of taunting, teasing, joking or mocking that has been the norm so far.

[Tabitha Reese]
“So where are you two from?” Tugging Tala along, she moves to the couch to sit.

[Tala Whitedeer]
She gets tugged along without much resistance, taking a seat.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Oh, all over the place, really.” She settles back down on the floor, stretched out on her side. “I’m from New Mexico, originally. How about you guys?”

[Quinn]
That was exactly the look…no wait, there’s actually emotion there. Patrick doesn’t blankly stare at Quinn, quietly judging. His face actually falls, and with it goes Quinn’s spirit. For a moment she feels like she’s kicked a puppy. She wants to say she’s sorry, so so sorry, but the Galliard heads down the stairs.

So she sticks around and offers a couple remarks to the women still in the common room before following after. To collect herself, as it were, and stop feeling like she just ruined Christmas.

When she does go finally, she catches up to the other Fianna, wherever they’ve gotten themselves to.

[Tabitha Reese]
“Michigan, then South Dakota. That’s where I met Tal.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“The Qualla.”

[Hatchet]
“Yes, yes, you two are sole crusaders in speaking your mind,” Hatchet says amicably, waving his hand at the Galliard as he enters the kitchen. He’s going to the pantry for that bottle of whisky, and bringing it back to the big table in front of the fireplace, setting it down with a thump.

His eyes go to Quinn as she enters the kitchen as well. He seems to have simmered down a bit as he grabs some tumblers and pours. Not quite shots, but oh well. This whisky is good enough to be savored.

“My name’s Taggart,” he says to the kinswoman. “And having spoken to the other Fianna I could find in the city, I intend to state my claim as elder of the tribe in Chicago at the next moot. For you, this really only means that I will be your ‘official’ guardian for as long as you remain in the city unless challenged by another Garou who wants to be responsible for you.”

There’s an air of blah blah blah to all this, though that doesn’t necessarily indicate how seriously (or not) he takes the issue. His eyes lift from pouring, and he slides one tumbler towards the end of the table, more easily reachable by her or Patrick. “After the moot I’ll get in touch and discuss it more with you, as there’s things you should know about what that all means — and doesn’t mean — for you. But I wanted you to have a heads up. Also, I owe your bar for a couple of drinks. I’ll be glad to pay you back, should I ever have a drop or two of cash, but I’m open to other suggestions for compensation.”

He lifts his own glass now, toasts them both. “Sláinte.” And downs two fingers of whisky, entire.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Cool. I passed through South Dakota once…didn’t really stop, though. I was kind of in a hurry.”

[Tabitha Reese]
She smirks a little. “What did you do?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“THAT time?” She grins. “Nothing that running a couple states away didn’t fix. Apparently framing the local upper tier-ranking skinhead drug dealer on charges of sexual deviancy is not to be advised if you want to stay settled down.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
She looks impressed, sitting forward suddenly. “That’s good. Really good.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Damned good.” She nods appreciatively.

[Quinn]
Quinn moves around the table, pulls out a chair, and sets herself down with an exaggerated groan. She listens to Hatchet’s spiel, and nods and, even though she’s spent time with Caldera, has even stayed a couple of nights at their packhouse, her eyes do not stray toward Patrick at unless challenged by another Garou who wants to be responsible for you.

“Man, that has such a terrible, ominous ring to it,” she says, and sighs. After a month in Chicago, though, she can’t really say that it’s not true. How many times has she had to fight someone or something? Twice now, her truck has had to be looked over for repairs. It’s a dangerous place, and the Kinfolk here, from what she’s heard, are troublesome.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she says, and this is genuine. “The Winchester has a longstanding Family-drinks-free policy. But if you ever really want to trade, I’ve been working on fixing the place up since I took over. Patrick built the stage, which earned him a bottle of bourbon.” She lifts her shot first to the Galliard, then to Hatchet. “Cheers.” She can’t take the shot all in one go, but she tries, bless her heart. She tries, and she gets it on the second swallow.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She shrugs it off. “I have my moments. He crossed a line, and once that line is crossed, all bets are off.”

[Patrick Llewelyn]
Patrick can’t help the slight grin curling up the corner of his lip as the Fostern Half Moon talks … and talks. He’s on about them being sole crusaders and taking his place as Elder of the Fianna in the city and the next Moot — which does interest Patrick, that’s obvious — and that makes him Quinn’s Official Guardian, like he’s her sponsor for a marathon or something of the sort and all the while the younger of the pair of Garou is peeling off his jacket and folding it over the edge of a chair; the shirt he’s wearing beneath it is long sleeved; a baseball jersey with red shoulders and neck and the number 83 printed in heavy font to its back.

The Galliard takes up his own shot; and toasts it with a word that is perhaps unfamiliar to the ear, but whose meaning is quite the match for the sentiment in Quinn’s.

“Iechyd Da.”

When he speaks the native tongue of his ancestors, or one is aware of where his heritage lies, those bright eyes and that blond hair of his make a great deal more sense. His accent possessed nothing but time spent in the States, yet he clearly spoke Welsh with a familiarity that begged long time exposure to it from somewhere.

He wipes his mouth and slams his shot down.

“Good stuff, Jenny doesn’t scrimp.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“What did he do?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Had me left in a ditch after I stopped his dealers from slinging meth to kids.” She smirks, briefly. “The attempted murder’s fine, turnover is part of the business. Churn, as they call it in so-called legit industries. It’s the thinking I was gonna let him keep dealing like he was that crossed the line.”

[Tabitha Reese]
She nods, obviously approving. “When was this?”

[Hatchet]
Quinn sighs about the ominous ring of it all, and Hatchet shrugs, setting his glass down and capping the whisky again. One glass seems to be all he wants at the moment. Maybe he’s saving up that bottle for as long as it will last him, as a way to get through the two months he promised Jenny he wouldn’t throw anyone down stairs or boot-stomp them in the common room or something. “I can do a bit of this and a bit of that,” he says, “but I’m best at taking advantage of free drinks. So you can be assured I’ll do plenty of that for the Winchester.”

He goes to the sink, washing out the tumbler he used. “Reuben is a hell of a brewer,” Hatchet agrees with Patrick, rinsing it out and setting it on a nearby rack. He looks over his shoulder as he dries his hands. “I’m going to head out on a patrol. You two crazy kids don’t get into too much trouble,” he adds without so much as a waggle of his brows, and goes for the door. He hasn’t got a jacket. He doesn’t seem to mind.

Cold air swirls in, and the door closes behind him.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“About two and a half years back. Ain’t been to that part of Montana since.” She sighs. “Sucks too…nice countryside.”

[Hatchet]
[Thanks for the RP, everybody!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
[[Bye! Thanks. 🙂 ]]

[Tabitha Reese]
“Oh.” She glances to Tala, seeming disappointed.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Why do you ask?”

[Tabitha Reese]
“If it was more recently, it would be easier to find him.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She smiles a bit. “Ain’t no thang. Like I said, lots of turnover. I wouldn’t be shocked if he got a turn at the ditch already…and Unfortunately for him, he doesn’t have great furry X-Men-like healing powers.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Being a skinhead is reason enough for me, Tabby.”

[Patrick Llewelyn]
The remaining Fianna doesn’t so much as blink when the Fostern heads out; leaving a whirl of cold air in his wake. Rather, he drums his palms against the countertop and cants his head at Quinn; his expression, if anything, could be called winning. The suggestion of a smile, the rise of sandy brows.

“You want a beer? I’m going to raid the fridge and hang down here until things quieten upstairs.” Anyone would think he, a grown, strapping lad, was afraid of a few girls. He crosses to the fridge and pulls out a pair of long-necks, handing one over to Quinn if she accepts.

“So, tell me what happened to your truck…”

He pulls up a chair, straddling it and pops open the cork on his beer. This, could take them a while. In truth, it’s probable they don’t emerge for some time, if Patrick’s love for car detail was any indication.

[Tabitha Reese]
“Me too, Tal. Hard to track somebody down after a while, though.” She nods to Sarita. “We can hope so, hey?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Nothing would put a bigger smile on my face.”

[Tabitha Reese]
She looks over to the stairs. “Should we go down and get that drink?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
A grin spreads over her face. “I’m ~always~ up for a drink.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
She looks uncertain. “I can go down there…”

[Quinn]
Hatchet, no Taggart, is best at taking advantage of free drinks. Quinn smiles and lifts her empty glass in a kind of salute. The trade-off doesn’t necessarily come in the form of labor versus alcohol consumption, though right now that’s the best that Quinn can ask.

He doesn’t stick around much longer than that, and so the bottle of whiskey is stoppered. Quinn can’t say she’s terribly disappointed, her chest still wants to burn from that one drink. She once told someone that Kinfolk are more breakable than Garou, and really, it goes in more ways than simple wounds or broken bones. She could never keep up with Hatchet or Patrick if they were really determined to drink the night away.

“That would be fantastic,” she says of the offer of a beer, and she accepts a bottle happily.

Patrick asks after the state of the truck, and what happened. Quinn closes her eyes, sits back, and groans. “I think we should wait a couple beers. You’re not going to like it.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Okay then.” She stands and stretches, then heads down the stairs.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She grins and rises, following along.

[Tala Whitedeer]
She follows Tabitha, somewhat timidly.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She looks around when she gets downstairs, making a beeline for the bar.

[Tabitha Reese]
Empty. Well son of a bitch. She makes her way to the bar, settling where she can see the door.

[Tala Whitedeer]
She sits near Tabitha, lookin around uncomfortably.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“I think just a beer for me. What are you two drinking?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“I don’t drink for fun.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Beer works. Tal doesn’t do anything for fun. Though probably, watching Rol and I try to drink each other under the table was fun.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Beer it is, then.” She looks at Tala. “Why don’t you do anything for fun?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“I have responsibilities.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“We all have responsibilities, Tal. Don’t be a snob.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“We all…” She nods at what Tabitha says. “I ain’t trying to give you a hard time, chica. I’m just curious. If you don’t wanna say, that’s totally cool.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Hey.” She turns to Tala suddenly, frowning. “Last night. You said you couldn’t have a chocolate because you promised somebody something. What was that about?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“I’m not being a snob. I have different responsibilities than you do. I’m an intermediary.” She shrugs at Sarita. “I know you aren’t. It’s just chiminage. I can’t eat or drink for pleasure for a while.” And back to Tabitha. “Just that.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“When did you do that?” She frowns.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Ahhhh.” She nods, light dawning behind brown irises. “Yeah, that would do it. Makes perfect sense.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Back. You know when. Before we left.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Why didn’t you tell me?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She procures the beers for her and Tabitha, setting one down in front of the Fury before opening her own.

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Why should I have? You don’t tell me everything you do.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“I tell you the important things.” She sips at the beer, then starts to peel the label.

[Tala Whitedeer]
She snorts, but doesn’t say anything.