Big-Ass Meeting From Hell

[Balance Without Fault] [folks, clarification — sorry if this shuts anyone out, but of the Garou, only Tribal and Auspice alphas are invited. of the kin, everyone can come.]

[Balance Without Fault] Unsurprisingly, the Brotherhood of Thieves is the venue for tonight’s meeting. The restaurant has been closed, the front door locked and hung with a PRIVATE PARTY sign. The tables and chairs have been rearranged into a large circle.

Balance Without Fault enters alone, unaccompanied by his packmate or the Warder. In true Glass Walker fashion, he’s in suit and tie; he looks crisp and sharp, and it’s just a little jarring to see him like this. So normal, like a trader from the Chicago Stock Exchange coming for an after-work drink.

He takes one of the two wingback chairs. The other is immediately cleared away. That says something about how much this is or isn’t a casual discussion where rank does not factor in. Hint: it isn’t. He confers quietly with Jenny for a moment, then, who leaves the room and soon returns with … a magic eight-ball, of all things.

Those nearby can hear her ask, “Will this do?” They can see Balance Without Fault’s mouth quirk into an amused smile as he accepts it.

“Perfect,” he says.

And then he claps his hands together, three time, calling for attention.

“Welcome, everyone. Thanks for coming. Here are the rules tonight: one speaker at a time. He or she who holds the magic eight ball,” and he holds this aloft, “speaks. No one else.

“Keep a respectful tone, particularly to those of greater rank. For those of equal rank, the Auspice Council holds precedence over the Tribal Alphas. For kin, those with renown hold precedence over those without.

“In case of dispute, we will not go to challenges because of the mixed crowd. A Philodox will be called upon to mediate. If mediation fails, I am the final arbiter.

“Anyone violating these rules once will be given one warning, and one only. After that, you’re out of the meeting, and your viewpoint will be disregarded. The staff has kindly set up refreshments in the kitchen. If you feel yourself getting hot under the collar, go get a drink and come back when you’re calmer.

“Now — settle in, everyone. The meeting will formally begin in,” a glance at his wristwatch, “five minutes.”

[okay folks, go ahead and post in if you want to! otherwise we’ll just assume you’re here. BwF will open the floor shortly!]

[Balance Without Fault] [erp, change that to read: “After that, you’re out of the meeting, your viewpoint will be disregarded, and appropriate judgment will be rendered.”]

[Jackson Montgomery] [[Not posting in]]

[August Grant] August had arrived early. She wanted a good seat. By some reason – she thought that this might end up turning into a good show – and she wanted to be in the front row.

The Coggie kinfolk had dressed up for this evening. She wore a soft pink colored sweater with a V-neck, a pair of skinny jeans and dark brown heeled boots. She no longer attempted to hide her belly which was beginning to swell. There was no point any longer. And, against one shoulder, her little one, Ella, slept peacefully. {Who was gonna watch the kid afterall, all the kinfolk were here!}

She really had no intention of saying anything – she was just here to listen. And maybe eye a certain young man who she kinda had a crush on.

[Leon Davenport] Leon arrived at the meeting, not entirely sure if he should be there but being there nonetheless. He had annonced that he was gonig to take the Glass Walkers kin under his protection and no one challenged him. So, guess it means he was the tribe’s Elder in some way. If not, well Balance Without Fault will kick him out. Better to presume tonight than miss honoring your duties.

He was dressed nicely, in a dark, striped suit with a blue shirt and tie. He walked in, looking around, bowing slightly to BWF and Lukas, nodding to to Gina and Jackson, mostly ignoring the rest. Either he didn’t know them or..didn’t care to acknowledge them.

[Rain McKellar] August had company in the early arrivals. Another Unicorn, this one with dark hair and no babe in arms. The songbird is bereft of her usual company, no dark case at her side, no voice to share with the others. She’s wearing her best, dark jeans and a neatly pressed white button down. Though her warmth could be infectious, could spread to fill a room even this wide and this full of faces, Rain kept that charisma and that smile and that presence quiet tonight. She takes her seat with her Tribe, folds her hands in her lap, and watches the others filter in and settle themselves.

[Joey] [I won’t be posting Quinn in unless she has something to say, but she’s there!]

[Balance Without Fault] As soon as Balance lays eyes on August’s baby, he beckons Jenny over. The Fianna kinswoman bends as the Grand Elder lifts his chin, speaking directly to her ear. After a moment she nods, walks across the floor, and offers August an apologetic smile.

“Miss, the Grand Elder wanted me to take your baby upstairs for a few hours. There’s a lotta Rage in here and we don’t want your little one havin’ nightmares. I’ll leave her with Reuben; she’ll be in good hands.”

[Izzy Montoya] Unsurprisingly, it’s the goddamn Brotherhood Of motherfucking Thieves where they decide to have this little powwow. Izzy can count the number of times she’s willingly set foot in this establishment since her imprisonment here on one hand. Hell, on two fingers if she counts this time, though it’s not exactly willingness that has her here. It might be considered curiosity, but more likely it’s a simple thing:

Kora asked. Izzy came.

It says something, that. She’s a respect for The Jarl, (Not her[i] jarl, [i]the jarl. A minute difference that means something to Izzy alone), for the Last Watch. She’s dressed as she always is – business casual, with her weapon a bulge at the small of her back under her blazer, her hair down, her expression… well. Expressionless, other than a slight jump of the muscle at the hinge of her jaw, where she clenches her teeth together briefly, sets her jaw, lifts her chin and enters.

And gets a drink. No way is she sitting through this stone cold sober. No fucking way.

[Hunter] Hunter Matthews stalks through the door with his pack-mate and a certain bone-gnawer kin while everyone is still milling around. Seats are taken, Hunter remains silent.

[Balance Without Fault] [folks, it was pointed out to me that kieran was the only uktena in town, and ergo the default uktena alpha. if anyone has him in AIM, call him back in!]

[Gina McClaren] *Gina’d come home late, but that hadn’t stopped the pikey from being in the kitchen and underfoot since early morning. The more time she spent at Jenny’s elbow, the more likely it was the saintly blonde would let slip the secrets to her cranberry oat-muffins. As folks file in the Strider pickpocket finally emerges from the kitchen, long hair bound in a messy loop off her neck, floury hand marks on the dull black of her skirt, tank top askew, a smudge of icing sugar across a caramel shoulder. She hops up on a stool near the back, as far removed from those of her tribe as she can get. God knew her voice would carry if she had anything to say in earnest. Those she knows get nods of recognition, and a worn smile.*

[Carter Roth] Carter is present, but he remains close to the exit his hands deep within his pockets and his eyes wary and mistrustful, he didnt know what this was all about and he didnt like it one bit.

But he was here, as a test of himself and a test of the garou, to see what they were up to. He couldn’t very well pass up that now could he.

[Carter is here, but I may not be going to be on and off]

[Rosie] The certain Bone Gnawer kinfolk finds a seat near or by or somewhere in the vicinity of Hunter. She sits: quiet and unobtrusive.

[Amunet Knezevic] Amunet made her way in quietly, several minutes before the meeting was to start. She’s in her own jacket, and the iPad has been left at the condo. She remembers very few times in her life when she has been this nervous. When so much has been riding on a single night.

Moving to the far side of the room, she finds a spot where she can watch the comings and goings, back against the wall to protect herself from surprises. Her eyes flicker around the room as it populates, but the only one they rest on more than a second or two is her sister.

[Holden] A grizzly bearded Fenrir takes a seat out of the way, he doesn’t suppose he will have much to say so the distance does him well.

[August Grant] Oh good! Someone to watch the baby! August likes Jenny – afterall, they spent a lot of time hanging out in the kitchen when August lived here..

The young woman gives Jenny a smile. “Of course.. I didn’t have anyone else to watch her.. Thank you. Tell Reuben she might be hungry..” Ella gets a kiss on the side of her head and the baby is lifted from her arms and offered out to the kin.. a moment later, the diaper bag is also offered out.

[Starla Navarro] There is a painted Unicorn that has joined the others, Starla following on Rain’s heels easily, ducking her head down as she finds a seat next to her tribe mate. Dark head lifting to look around, skirting her eyes across the room at the faces that were familiar and not; the freckles dance across the bridge of her nose and her left cheek. She tucks her hands in her lap, leaning to the side to nudge Rain’s shoulder with her own.

[Kyle] (Not going to post for Kyle unless he has something to say or someone asks him questions other wise he’s just doing his usual watch and listen routine ­čÖé )

[Bridget Geroux] The Canadian Fianna kinfolk finds herself at this gathering in her usual state of confusion. She doesn’t look quite like she knows what’s going on. However, she doesn’t appear to be under the influence of anything. She wears a simple black maxi dress, gathered at the waist by a beat-up leather belt, a hunter green jacket covering her bare shoulders, and of course her combat boots.

Bridget finds a place to sit where she can stretch her legs: she knows she’ll probably want to fidget if the Rage gets a bit much. She also wisely follows Izzy’s lead by getting herself a small glass of whiskey. She returns and smiles at the few here she recognizes and is on good terms with: Hunter, Gina, Kyle, Sarita. The Fianna kinswoman does her best to control the feral urges to move around while surrounded by so much Rage.

[Kora] A cool spring evening; spring already, light lingering in the west far longer than she had remembered. The heavily pregnant Fenrir – eight months, perhaps more? – pushes past the private party signs, into the familiar restaurant interior. Her hair is twisted into a loose braid, strands pulled free by the wind. Kora is slower than she was; careful of her body. She walks with her shoulders pulled further back to balance the weight of her stomach. Which is all the more evident when she strips off her winter coat and sets it aside on a coat tree, wrapping a hand-knitted scarf around it in a winding pattern.

She finds her way among her kin, but does not take a seat. Instead, she remains standing at their back, her feet shoulder-width apart, her arms crossed – below her breasts, above the swell of her stomach. There is an expectant tension in her spine and shoulders, and a firm set to her jaw.

[Derek Anderson] Derek came in, dressed in pants and sweater, his kind blue eyes looking around. He bowed respectfully to Balance Without Fault, did the same for Lukas and walked around, greeting those he knew a little with a nod: Hunter, Amunet, Gina, Matthieu and Jackson when the last two arrive.

He nodded and smiled slightly at Sarita when he see her. Izzy received a grin when he pass her by “Hello Detective”

His attention then was on August and Rain, offering htem a warm smile and walking to them “Good evening ladies, I hope you’re doing well”

[Danicka Musil] [I’m totally making Damon post Danicka in with Lukas. I’m in the middle of eating. :p ]

[Wyrmbreaker] Punctual, Lukas arrives moments before Balance lays down the protocol for the meeting. And not in his own car but in Danicka’s, riding shotgun while scarfing down the last of whatever dinner they went out to. Looks like lamb-stuffed cabbage.

Getting out, anyone looking out the windows can see him stepping out of her car, buttoning his overcoat against the wind. He moves ahead to get the door; she laughs, running a few steps after him, which makes him turn around, which gives her the opportunity to lean up and wipe a dab of tomato-based sauce from his cheek. And kiss him.

Public displays of affection out of his system, Wyrmbreaker is somber and dignified, walking in the door. He sees that his wingback chair is taken, the other cleared away. He goes to sit by the bar instead, where Danny hovers with a nervous grin.

“No drinks here tonight, Mr. Wyrmbreaker. Grand Elder says all the food and alcoholic drink is to be served in the kitchen. Nothing but ice water here.”

Lukas huffs a laugh under his breath. “Not a problem, Danny.” He takes a seat on a barstool, shifting one a little closer for Danicka.

[Matthieu] Matthieu arrives on time, even a little early. Ever the peacock the lovely Silver Fang arrives just in time to display the finely crafted suit that he has doubtless poured six months of your average man’s salary into getting each and every thread just right. His entrance was as much a display of his tribes divine right as it was a display of his own natural beauty. Not only was he the representative of his Auspice on the council now but he also stood as Alpha of Harrier’s grace. He was a living representative not only of his tribe but his house as well. Ever regal and dignified. His skin was smooth and pale and his hair looked as if it had been kissed by the golden rays of the sun itself. Falcon’s child carried with him the legacy of a house, and the history and hopes of an entire nation.

He listened to Balances without Fault and nods in agreement with the rules. He was here to listen, and to speak when it was needed. Tradition would be the focus of his reasons for being here. Support of tradition and remembrance of ancient ways. His blood ran hot with the memories of a past tens of thousands of years old. A creature of the modern world and yet still firmly grounded in the wisdom of eras ling since passed.

He keeps his eyes forward most of the time. However, when he is finally seated his eyes do drift somewhere to the back. His eyes drawing in to focus on the Strider kin hiding in the back. Pausing to give his own acknowledgement of her presence. His eyes take the time to wander, perhaps linger, and the act brings a slight smile to his lips a smile which might or might not be shared by the both of them. None the less… His eyes were hard pressed to pull themselves away, and in fact he didn’t see any reason to draw them away until the meeting officially started.

[Joey] Joey enters with Hunter and his kinswoman, but once they’re through the door departs their company to sit closer to the rest of the auspice council. A smile is offered to those she recognizes, dim compared to what it used to be, an upward nod to Balance Without Fault, and Lukas.

Once she’s settled, she seeks out Hunter, meets his gaze, and grins.

[Kieran Mondblume] *He looks a little bit intimidated, all things considered, as he walks into the meeting. He finds a place to sit. His shirt is a lovely shade of light purple; his jeans are black. His flip-flops, a lovely shade of maroon. Lukas’ words make his head swivel, and his eyes widen. Food? No… ice water. He slumps slightly, disappointed, as he waits for everything to begin.*

[Balance Without Fault] [Sorry for the confusion – “no drinks here tonight” was spoken by Danny, bartender kid NPC kin! I’ll try to keep all my NPCing in this name.]

[Delilah Marciano] Back of the room, quiet as a dormouse; the Glass Walker makes an appearance. Dark hair gathered up from her shoulders, she sits alone at one of the tables in the back of the room, whichever was closest to the front. The phone in her hand muted as she set it on the table, dressed in dark charcoal pantsuit with red pinstripe. Silvery gaze focused on those around her.

[Kieran Mondblume] ((Ahh hell. *smacks forehead* My bad.))

[Balance Without Fault] When everyone has settled, Balance Without Fault picks up the magic eightball and speaks again.

“Okay, let’s come to order. Some of you might be wondering why this meeting was called. The reason is simple: over the last month, there have been more rumors and murmurs of kin discontent than in the past five years. Furthermore, there’s been a troubling trend toward Kin thinking of themselves as separate and distinct from the Garou when we are all part of the same Nation. I wanted to dispel the rumors, clear the air, set a basic infrastructure down, and move on from tonight as a re-unified force.

“With that in mind, let’s hear from the kin first. What exactly are your concerns or complaints at the moment?”

He tosses the eightball toward the first kin to call for it.

[Adamidas] Adam slips in and, for the time being, keeps her mouth shut. She doesn’t draw attention to herself, or the fact that she left the bathroom with a pop and keeps herself quietly nestled in.

[Balance Without Fault] [For latecomers who missed it, this was BwF’s protocol post —

“Welcome, everyone. Thanks for coming. Here are the rules tonight: one speaker at a time. He or she who holds the magic eight ball,” and he holds this aloft, “speaks. No one else.

“Keep a respectful tone, particularly to those of greater rank. For those of equal rank, the Auspice Council holds precedence over the Tribal Alphas. For kin, those with renown hold precedence over those without.

“In case of dispute, we will not go to challenges because of the mixed crowd. A Philodox will be called upon to mediate. If mediation fails, I am the final arbiter.

“Anyone violating these rules once will be given one warning, and one only. After that, you’re out of the meeting, and your viewpoint will be disregarded. The staff has kindly set up refreshments in the kitchen. If you feel yourself getting hot under the collar, go get a drink and come back when you’re calmer.”]

[Amunet Knezevic] [Dibs, unless anyone is going to claim it?]

[Balance Without Fault] [whoever types fastest, man.]

[Balance Without Fault] [and on that note, since we’re a scene of twenty-seven right now — let’s try to keep posts short and snappy. i know i’m one of the chief offenders here, but i’m really going to try to keep responses to

[Joey] [yeah that’s pretty short!]

[Amunet Knezevic] “Balance Without Fault Rhya.” Deep breath, Ames. “My name is Amunet Knezevic. I am that one that placed the notice on the board, and the one who has been organizing the willing kinfolk. I believe that this in part may be the cause of the perception of discontent. I would like to clear up any confusion, as our intentions may not be as clear as they should be.”

[Balance Without Fault] [okay, i changed my mind — go ahead and call dibs if you have a longer post to type so you don’t lose your chance. but i’m gonna say you have 10 min from the time you call dibs to get it out, just to keep things moving!]

Balance nods. “Let’s hear it.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[She says she’s almost done, it’s a biggie!]]

[Danicka Musil] The Happy Couple — and frankly, they are, however smirkingly saccharine the nomenclature — comes in together, but they leave their more obvious public displays of affection at the door. Danicka is wearing a knee-length gray skirt and knee-high black heels, beneath which are a pair of stockings that extend a little higher than the boots themselves. Her peacoat is doffed when she comes in, hung over the back of a chair no one is using that’s been shoved over by the bar. Underneath is a casual, gauze-thin sweater of seafoam green, laid atop the hint of a camisole. There’s a white applique in some abstract pattern to one side of chest of the sweater, but all of this is just [window] dressing.

Danicka Musil is not the most renowned Kinswoman in Chicago. Not by far. But she is the most renowned Kinfolk here. The Garou, if they ever mention her to each other, if the spirits ever talk about her, don’t talk much about how many fomori she’s killed or that one time she shot a zombie or so forth. She’s known to be brave, to be a Good Kinswoman. Mostly, she’s known to be wise. Granted, when she comes up, it’s hardly even by name. Garou call her Wyrmbreaker-rhya’s mate. And they say that Wyrmbreaker-rhya’s mate is clever, isn’t she? Oh yes, I’ve heard she’s a bit of a bright one.

It’s childish. It’s condescending. But that she is known to be anything at all beyond the mate of an Adren who has not yet given him a child, and that her reputation is solid as a Good Kin is impressive at all. She can’t cast rites, she can’t learn gifts. She can just be… a clever little thing. Good job, Wyrmbreaker. Now stop dicking around and knock her up.

When the magic 8-ball is first offered to the kin, it’s Amunet — rightly so — who reaches for it. Danicka, perhaps there just as a show of support for her comrades, perhaps just because she’s supposed to be there and she’s obedient, turns her eyes towards the Strider she met with last night, her murky green eyes interested. Thoughtful.

[Amunet Knezevic] “My intention is to gather the interested kinfolk in a network that will help the Trueborn, not work against them. Among the first concerns that are being addressed are training and information.”

Her eyes flicker to Sarita, then back to Balance. “It is necessary for us to be able to contact one another easily, not only in emergencies but in everyday circumstances where one of us may need another’s expertise. One of the first projects will be a listing of the kin and their contact information. This will be heavily guarded, not because I don’t want the information to be accessible but because I understand the danger of this type of thing getting into the wrong hands. Cordelia and Jackson have volunteered to begin this process, and to make sure that the information is secure.”

Our second focus is going to be self defense training. We are human, at the end of the day. We can’t count on the Trueborn to be our protectors when they have a war to fight. Carter has extensive self defense training, and he has offered to run a boot camp of sorts for those who are interested. As with everything that we are working toward, it will be voluntary. I don’t want to force any kin to join us, or accept any sort of training except for the third focus.”

She stops for breath. “I would like to see every kin trained in basic first aid. This accomplishes two purposes. Should any of us be injured, there will likely be someone close by to help. Again, we are human. We don’t heal ourselves, and we are out in the world. The dangers that we face come not only from our enemies, but from the people that we are surrounded with every day.

I’ve seen an amazing number of Trueborn that are more than willing to step up and heal a kin that is injured. This is honorable, but wasteful. Again, we are at war. We could be attacked at any time, and should that happen, which of the kin would be responsible for sapping a Trueborn’s gnosis by being healed out of panic or unnecessarily. Prepared kin are kin that are not a drain on the Nation’s resources.”

Her fingers run in her hair nervously, and she licks her bottom lip before continuing. “I’ve been in a Sept that was attacked. I have a clearer understanding of what happens than some of the kin do. I watched kin die, because no one was able to triage them. I watched kin die, because they had all become complacent and lazy and spoiled by well meaning Trueborn. I have friends here. I don’t want to see the same thing happen again. That is why I’ve made this move. That is why these three goals are my first”

[Balance Without Fault] “That’s all well and good,” Balance replies as the eightball comes back to him, “and I’m glad to hear you’re trying to organize the kin. See to it that the Warder has a list of these kin and contacts as well. Areas of specialization, too, if possible. We had something like that for a while, but the parties responsible for its maintenance drifted off.

“Regarding self defense and basic first aid — that sounds like a wise investment. We’ve got a few kin who are accomplished physicians. You might want to get their input. As for self defense, Imogen Slaughter’s known to be a crack shot. Izzy Montoya and Derek Anderson are both with the police; surely they know how to handle a gun as well. You might want to seek their services as well.

“But all that aside — Amunet, you’ve told me everything that’s working. Or that you want to be working, at least. I’m asking why I keep hearing murmurs of discontent.”

[Amunet Knezevic] “Some of the kin that have shown interest are not content, Rhya. Trueborn have become accustomed to dictating to us, and the kin have become accustomed to allowing it. Not only here, but other places where several of the new kin have come from, bringing their biases with them. This has bred discontent. I am in no way suggesting that we should be treated as equals. The fact is that we are not. I would suggest though that we are kept informed, so that when decisions are made and passed down, they do not seem arbitrary and dictatorial. Your kin are willing to work together with the Trueborn, Rhya. We just need a path to follow.”

[Balance Without Fault] Balance Without Fault considers Amunet a moment. Then he sweeps a glance around the room.

“I don’t want to put you under a microscope this early in the night, Amunet.” Maybe that’s a joke. The half-smile says it is. He raises his voice, “Let’s hear from someone other than Amunet. Kinfolk of Maelstrom, this might be one of the few or only times in your life that the Elder Council and the Tribal Alphas of an entire Sept are gathered, silent, with open ears — waiting to hear from you.

“If you’ve got issues, bring them forward.”

[Jackson Montgomery] [[DIBS!]]

[Izzy Montoya] She hadn’t intended to talk. In fact, she hadn’t intended to make a sound at all, but at that, she snorts. Audibly. But that is all, as she starts the ritual search through her pockets for her cigarettes and lighter. she finds both – but doesn’t put them to use other than to keep her hands busy.

After all – smoking inside is against the law.

[Jackson Montgomery] He stands, perhaps unexpectedly, and goes to claim the magic 8-Ball. “I think, if I can speak to this, that a lot of the reported discontent is simple due to the fact that some of the initial ideas being brainstormed are coming out and they aren’t even formalized yet. And some Garou have been volunteering their involvement…which is great. There’s been an impression that this is quickly becoming Garou vs. kinfolk, and that’s not the case.

“The thing is, when a lot of Garou get heavily involved in this, even in the planning stage, it belies the fact that it goes right back to the idea that the kinfolk are relying on the Garou instead of standing on their own. I’ve been talking a lot with Amunet about this, and we’ve come up with some good ideas. And at no point are we trying to push this into two separate factions. But the old saying goes, too many cooks spoil the soup, and there are a lot of kinfolk even as it is with very different viewpoints. We absolutely plan to make this a thing where we’re all involved in the same mission, but we need an actual plan in place for what we’re doing before we start implementing that and integrating it with the Garou side.”

[Balance Without Fault] Balance Without Fault’s eyes swing immediately to Izzy. When he gets the eightball back, he tosses it toward her.

“You sounded like you wanted to be heard, Izzy. Let’s hear it.”

[August Grant] August shifted in her chair. It was slightly uncomfortable for her to sit in the same position for too long these days. A slender hand rubbed at the side of her belly – perhaps where a persistent foot was intent on kicking her. She didn’t say anything.

No matter the extent of her past issues with this Sept.. in her mind, all were resolved as well as they could be at the moment. And, given that her cheating, lying, deadbeat, no good, s-o-b of a former mate had fled, she was a happy camper. Her gaze did shift to her tribesmate as he stood, however.

[Nash] Oh crap when did he get here.

Nash, who most here don’t recognize but for the breeding that pegs him as one of Fenris’s Kin, slips in quietly as Amy is discussing her desire to see Kinfolk trained in first aid. He works his way around the room to stand near Kora and tries to get his happy ass caught up while his player does paperwork.

[Kieran Mondblume] *He watches, back and forth. From Amy, to Jackson, and then to Izzy. Waiting, really, curious about all of this.*

[Izzy Montoya] She arches a brow, ups both her cigarettes and lighter into one hand and still catches the 8ball with a negligent ease. There are some things that become inherrant when one works in a male dominated workplace – like catching random objects being thrown at her.

She waits a moment, then two. She doesn’t look to Kora for permission as some might. She looks to no one – which is not unexpected from anyone that knows her in anyway at all. She is, and always will be, her own person. He wants to hear it. So he does.

“It’s bullshit. You sit there and say you want to hear, you want to fuckin’ listen, and it’s all fuckin’ bullshit. Not a one of you give two shits about what we do or don’t do, unless it directly involves you. Not a one gives two shits about what we might have to do for you in our jobs, what we might have to compromise in order to save your fuckin’ asses in a world you think you’re above – even while declaring you want to fuckin’ save it. Not a one of you.. not even Kora, whom I’ve grown to respect, did shit all when I was beat by one of you, imprisoned here of all fuckin’ places, and sent to work with injuries so severe that half my department wanted to come after whoever had fucked me up with guns blazing. Not a one of you gives two fuckin’ shits – and this is all a fuckin’ sham.”

He hears it. Both barrels.

She points at Amy. “That bitch has been lookin to get her goose cooked since she got here. And the latest scheme? Good god. she’s gonna get us all fuckin’ killed. And likely not by the enemy. Discontent.” she snorts again. “I won’t fuckin talk for anyone else – and don’t you dare speak for me either, I can get my ass beat all by myself – it doesn’t matter what you say here. In the end – you all will do what you want, and I’ll do my fuckin job just as I always have, and do a goddamn good job of it. I’ll cover my ass, your ass, everyone’s ass who I can manage to cover – but don’t expect me to believe that – for one fuckin second – you give a good goddamn what happens in the world we have to travel through every goddamn day. You don’t. You haven’t yet – and one night won’t make it so.”

To her credit though – not once does she raise her voice. If anything.. she sounds… tired.

[Danicka Musil] [Dibs!]

[Balance Without Fault] “Keep your tone respectful,” Balance says evenly. “That’s your only warning.”

That’s all he says for now. He lobs the eightball toward Danicka.

[Gina McClaren] *Restless as Striders were wont to be, Gina hops down from her stool, sashays into the kitchen, and fetches herself a couple of deep-fried wontons filed with hazelnut chocolate and cream cheese.
She pads back into the room midway through the detective’s speech, and settles on her stool once more.

Izzy finishes up, and Gina’s expression darkens a moment.

Then the detective has to use those finely honed reflexes again in short order. As a pikey whistles sharply then overhand tosses a wonton to the weary Fenris kin. Whether in agreement or simply in a bid to get her to cram it – only the guttersnipe herself knows.*

[Nash] Nash claps a few times after Izzy finishes. Not a purposefully sarcastic Slow Clap, but it is a bit on the slow side anyway. He seems to be favoring his right wrist. It lasts a few seconds, and then he stops at the Grand Elder’s warning to keep a respectful tone.

[Hunter] Holden wanders through the room to stand next to Nash and the other Fenrir. He gives a nod to the equally tall man from the north [south] along with a grin of approval.

[Hunter] [OOPS]

[Izzy Montoya] She catches the wonton. Easily.

And manages not to point out that she WAS respectful. For her.

[Danicka Musil] Everyone in the room is free to judge according to their own perspectives what it says about Danicka that when Balance Without Fault lobs the 8-ball at her, she doesn’t even try to catch it. She actually flinches somewhat out of the way, and it’s Lukas who snatches the thing out of the air, handing it to her. Some will call her oblivious that she doesn’t seem chagrined or embarrassed as she takes it from him. She’s a slender sort, not remotely athletic from the look of her.

Sometimes Garou hear of what she’s done to minions of the Wyrm, see her, say, Her?

Holding the ball in cupped palms, she speaks up for the first time, her tone clear and level. She addresses Balance Without Fault. “A lot of what Detective Montoya just said is true. Amunet, as well. We aren’t… like you,” she says, though in a tone that suggests even she realizes how weak that statement is, how far it falls from encompassing the truth. “No matter how much we care about our families, about the world we live in, or about the war — and I think all of us do care, though to wildly different degrees and in different ways — we don’t form ourselves naturally into packs. We are not asked to give everything, a hundred percent, to fighting this war. For Garou, the war is everything. Anything else is marginalized, because it has to be.

“For Kinfolk,” she goes on, “it’s the opposite. We live our lives. I go to school, Detective Montoya goes to the precinct, August feeds and diapers her children, Gina dances, we all… have a life. The war, however important it is to us individually, often comes as an intrusion to the rest of who we are and what we do.”

Danicka quiets for a small pause, clears her throat, but doesn’t give up the 8-ball. “Sometimes when we get hurt, Garou come running. Sometimes they don’t. Sometimes when there’s a fight on our doorstep, we have to fight it because there’s no way to run fast enough. Other times we have to give it up as though that’s the natural, only course of action.” Another beat, this one for effect more than to breathe. “The truth of what Detective Montoya says is this: most, if not all Garou, spend the majority of their time focused on things that have nothing to do with us. We are expected to carry on by ourselves without them, unless they show up. And if they do show up, usually without warning and sometimes even without need, we are expected to drop everything to obey them.

“-Rhya, all of us have our own prejudices and biases and differing levels of committment — as well as angst. All of us care. But the discontent comes when we are kept to the sides all of the time, then told to shut up and submit the moment a garou ten or twenty years our junior shows up and acts like they’re our protector. I think what Amunet and her alliance are trying to do is to increase our involvement so that at least the marginalization is lessened. But the discontent is already there. The frustration. The affront, frankly.”

She stops there. She could go on. But she’s talked a great deal, and she silences for now.

[Bridget Geroux] [Dibs]

[Danicka Musil] [Other times we have to give it up and let the Garou fight for us as though that’s the natural, only course of action. GAH!]

[Kora] Nash comes in; the Skald gives him a side glance. It lingers a long moment longer than it otherwise might; then her attention is back on the center of the room. The thin cotton of her extra-long tunic pulls over her shoulders, muscles bunching with a subtle tension, mostly withheld. Her long braid swings down the dip of her spine. A faint lift of her chin, watching Holden weave through the room to join the tribe; a brief glance in Gina’s direction follows after, before her attention returns to the center of the room, following the movement of the eight-ball to Danicka. Once, she shifts positions. Widens her stance, leans further back, relieving some of the unending pressure on her spine. Uncrosses and recrosses her arms.

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget sighs when it comes around her direction, careful to look at the eight ball when she holds it up. “Balance Without Fault Rhya, thank you for putting it in the light that we are all a part of the Nation. My name is Bridget Geroux. I know that every Sept is different, and I don’t have any expectations, but the Sept I am from is much smaller. We know each other well, and there is structure. Here, I don’t see the unity. I see reluctance, pain, anguish, and I see anger and pride disconnecting us from one another. Kin from kin, kin from tribesmen… and I wouldn’t presume to understand what goes on among Garou, but if that same disconnect exists on that level… it worries me.”

“And despite the recent bonding efforts to organize the kinfolk, I see a disconnect there as well. It’s a great idea, a great application, a wise and honorable action, but even with the application, I notice those same destructive traits. Just last week, I noticed a separation when a well-meaning Garou was not trying to interfere, but possibly trying to bridge gaps between Garou and kinfolk within Amunet’s… organization, fellowship. Whatever it will be called. And the way she jealously guards it and some others have just jumped on without gauging the situation seems too much like a Jonestown situation to me.”

Bridget takes a breath, exercising great efforts not to swear or fidget. “Maybe this is my own experience, but since I’ve moved here I have never felt more disconnected to my tribe despite my attempts to bridge gaps. At what point should I just go about my business, despite everything my father taught me? I’m… going to open myself up here and speak as truly as I possibly can, but it hurts me to have such a tentative relationship with the other Fianna.”

“This is all perhaps touching on the path Amunet spoke of, but I wouldn’t presume to speak for anyone but myself. I’m not good with a gun or first aid, but I know how to survive in the wilderness with nothing… I know how to work crowds, to work a public social setting. I know I’m not useless, but I feel that way when it comes to the Nation when my offers and talents are dismissed so quickly and without regard to its usefulness. I know how to stand well enough on my own, and I’ve done as much as I can to contribute… but I feel as if there is no point when I’m told to stay inside, discouraged from doing what I’m good at, and still held at such a distance. It’s all too condescending.”

Bridget looks to Izzy now, then sighs. “In a lot of ways, I feel exactly like no one gives a damn whether or not we all rot, what we have to go through or put up with and barely even a hint of recognition, if any of that even matters. I feel like many of us are just a bunch of wild things kept in guilded cages. If you keep any living thing from doing what it’s supposed to do, that’s not a life worth living. I don’t know what else to do but be discontent when I’m expected to stay out of the woods, don’t go make music or connections, don’t spend so much time out in the world doing what I do. I can follow orders, do what needs to be done, but I’m not a machine.”

[Balance Without Fault] [dibs!]

[Balance Without Fault] “I want to take a moment to clarify the purpose of this meeting.

“Jackson, I heard you about needing to get the kin coalition in order before plugging it into the grander framework of the Nation. I agree. Bridget, Izzy, I’ve heard from you both that the way things are going in the coalition are not optimal at the moment. But we’re not here to discuss the kinfolk coalition alone. We should address it more thoroughly, and we will — in a moment.

“We’re not here to discuss how Garou interface with the world, either, Izzy. We’re not here to change the way Garou and kin interact, because that — as Danicka points out — has been set for thousands of years. As you yourself have pointed out, it won’t change in a night.

“As much as you may feel downtrodden and unappreciated, realize that every last Garou in this room, on this planet, will die before age thirty. And they give this sacrifice so that you have a human world to interface in, just as you sacrifice your job and career and human life to support these Garou. The sacrifice goes both ways. And while you might not like it, we are in the end Gaia’s army. There is a ranking order, and it is dictated, ultimately, by our renown.

“But I digress. What we can do, what I want to do here tonight — specifically, without speaking in broad terms and vagueries — is to address points of discontent amongst the kin. I have specific incidents in my mind that I want to discuss, but I want to hear from the kin first.

“If nothing else, no matter how she brought it up — Izzy has noted some sources of discontent for herself. For that, I thank you, Detective Montoya.

“She Who Offers Sorrow, your kinfolk has raised an complaint about the way she’s been treated in the past. She says she’s been beaten and unfairly imprisoned. See to her concerns. If you decide her past punishment was just, then so be it. If it was unjust, make amends as you best see fit.

“Before we move on to other topics, are there any other specific grievances the kin wish to bring forth?”

[Rain McKellar] [Dibs, please!]

[Danicka Musil] Her eyes flick to the Grand Elder when he brings her up, gives at least one interpretation of what she said. She doesn’t ask for the 8-ball again though.

[Balance Without Fault] [erp. “will MOST LIKELY die before age thirty.” seeing as how BWF is like… 45.]

[Carter Roth] [Dibs after Rain]

[Jackson Montgomery] [[“You’re all gonna die before 30…except me. For I am Elite.”]]

[August Grant] {Very short dibs after Rain + Carter}

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Sarita could be accused, often, of not taking things seriously enough. When your deed name is “Echoes of Laughter,” it’s a natural course of people’s thoughts on how you will react. She’s stayed quiet here, sitting near her Alpha and watching…listening. She doesn’t give anyone a particularly strong reaction when they speak. Amy gets a slight smile; Izzy a little frown. The others, she remains even-tempered, thoughtful.

The Strider is doing her best to listen and learn. She’s not even tapping her toe to some sort of tacky dance pop crap.

[Rain McKellar] The girl who rises to claim the magic eight ball next has nothing in her blood that calls out to her Tribe. She has no renown among them. Cloistered as she is with the rest of Unicorn’s kin, this gives some suggestion as to her allegiances.

Catching the eight-ball is only part of the struggle, here. And before she addresses the Grand Elder, her glance slides sideways to the Fenrir Jarl. Her shoulders square, and she calms herself a bit.

“Mr. Grand Elder, sir,” she begins, and her voice rises easily above the gathering. Unexpectedly warm. Captivating, it calls attention to her in ways that might surprise them.

“My name is Rain McKellar, and before I was kin to Unicorn’s chosen, I was Lost.” She says this plainly. “The places I have been treated their kinfolk much differently than here, and I appreciate that you have called us together and allowed us to air our concerns.

“I have no complaints about how I have been treated by my Tribe, nor by the pack that I live with. My Family has been good to me, perhaps better than they should have been by some of what others have said tonight. If I can help in any way, so that kindness and shelter can be extended to others, please let me know.”

Here she swallows and looks down at the eight ball for a moment.

“If I have any complaint it is that, in the intention of being helpful or showing their concern, some True offer up conflicting information. I am concerned about the thing that is hunting Kinfolk. I would like to know, plainly put, what best I should do to protect myself and to help your war efforts. If this has already been communicated to the Tribal and pack Alphas, then I will seek answers with Mr. Roman or Miss Kora.”

She walks across the circle to hand back the eight-ball.

“Thank you for your time, sirs and madams.”

And then Rain retakes her seat.

[Wyrmbreaker] [Quick dibs. And sorry, Lukas is pulling rank to get it for a sec!]

[Wyrmbreaker] Wyrmbreaker, who has thus far sat quietly except to catch the ball for Danicka, raises his hand after Rain speaks. The eightball comes his way.

“I can answer that for you, Rain. The specifics of what kin should be doing is up to each Tribal Alpha. Obey whatever order they give you. As a general rule, I’d strongly suggest getting to a place where you’re protected by the Garou of your tribe. If there’s no such place available to you, come to the Brotherhood.

“As far as I’m concerned, you can chance it on your own if you really don’t want to move. But I don’t suggest it.”

Carter’s hand is up. Lukas tosses the eightball his way.

[Bridget Geroux] Seeing as her concern over being told specifically not to do what it is she does, what she’s good at, was basically glossed over, Bridget goes and gets herself something to eat. She needs to gather her thoughts for a second, fidget as she needs to with all the Rage in the room, before the Fianna kin can take her seat again. There’s a lot to think over.

[Carter Roth] Carter had had quite enough at this point. If no one would take up that magic 8 ball and speak the voice of the malcontent then he would. He strode forward taking the eight ball for himself and turned to face the garou who were gathered all powerful, all alpha’s or elder’s in their right and he held the eight ball in one heavy hand as he spoke.

“I refuse to be ruled by those who will not see me as their equal.” He lets those few treasonous words sink in as he looks across the garou, his eyes falling upon kin in equal measure. “In many places, by many of your kind we are treated like Chattel, little more then servants waiting to be used. I will not argue that here I have seen generous activity that would enrage the masters of these places for that you should be praised. But it is not enough.” He shakes his head slowly.

“Unlike the detective, who will stand and do her duty even as she knows your disregard for the kin who work tirelessly beneath your gaze. I will not, not without equality.” He pauses. “Without it, we are susceptible to every monster of your kind, every garou who believes we ARE nothing but here to serve your whim. Tell me why we should accept our lot as it stands, tell me how it makes sense that such actions continue unabated against those you call your allies, your lovers, your friends. Is an ally told to be silent because you do not like his tone? Do you force a friend to become the mate of another simply because of what lies within their veins?” He lets that settle there, lets it hang, many knew of such instances, quite often they were regular occurances.

He takes another moment to look about. “We are all capable, we are all skilled in our own ways. But we are marginalized, we are shunted aside till we are expected to serve and we will hold our tongues and be greatful for it. I will not.” He looks at Balance Without Fault. “You have said yourself that these things will not change, that they have existed for thousands of years, change it, if you hold to any future that means something for all of us…change it. You wished to hear of discontent, there it lies.”

Carter lets the 8 ball go then and he takes his place against the wall once more. His gaze even and suspicious as it was when he first stepped forward.

[Matthieu] [If I can I’d like to call Dibs after umm August!]

[Kieran Mondblume] *He is waiting, listening to all of the opinions, and he is starting to look a little concerned.*

[Nash] [Dibs are for the weak! (I’m sorry!)]

Nash doesn’t bother with the eightball. When he speaks, after Lukas and Carter have gone, he has a heavy Southern drawl. His voice isn’t terribly loud, and like Izzy, he sounds tired.

“Kinda telling, ain’t it?” he asks. “You got two Kin waiting to talk but a Trueborn can just butt on in?”

[Balance Without Fault] [BWF takes the eightball!]

[Izzy Montoya] She says nothing more – but she does step to the side and light up that cigarette after all. Someone can call the cops if they’ve got a problem with it.

[Amunet Knezevic] “Because we are NOT equal!” She snaps it, then falls instantly silent again.

[August Grant] August swallows. Did she really.. really want to go after that? Geezus christ – she was rather surprised when there wasn’t fur flying.

Once the magic-8 ball was gently -passed- in her direction, the young woman stood. She cleared her throat just a little, trying to work up the courage to speak in a room full of this many important people. She never quite looked the Elder in the eyes, but.. was looking somewhat towards him, maybe at his feet. {oooh.. where’d you get those shoes?}

“Rhya.. s.. since you wanted to know about the discontent from us.. I figured I should mention mine. My mate, up and left me for another, knowing full well I was already carrying a second child for this nation. His child. He left with me with no one to protect me and my cub. The mere fact that no one at the time thought this a grevious act was insulting. It bred resentment.. and.. until I found allies within my tribe.. ” she motioned to those seated near by, “I wasn’t at all content. Things have resolved at this point and I am fine with my lot in life. But things like that – ignoring these big giant world tearing apart events – is going to drive a wedge between us.”

A brief pause. “That is all.. thank you for your time..” A hand smoothed her sweater over her belly and she again took her seat, passing on the ball.

[Starla Navarro] Starla’s head snaps up, she turns and twists in her seat to stare right at Amunet, her eyes narrowing on the kin that snaps out her words. The corners of her mouth flatten into a thin line as she glares at her.

[Balance Without Fault] [this comes before August — sorry, but BWF would immediately react!]

Balance Without Fault snaps his fingers for the eightball. He confers briefly with Kora, gets a name, speaks.

“Stick to protocol, Nash. You too, Amunet. Next time you two step out of line, you’re out.

“In case you missed it the first time around: don’t speak without the eightball. Rank and renown takes precedence. In the event that rank is equal, the Auspice Council takes precedence over Tribal Alphas, who take precedence over the Garou, who take precedence over the kin.

“And I’m sorry, Carter, but there is no equality in the Nation. We are not a democracy.”

It passes on to August.

[August Grant] {Damn, my bad – my screen didn’t refresh. Augusts posts AFTER BWFs}

[Gina McClaren] *Gina makes a noise in her throat thats something along the lines of a pissed off gurgle. Fingers scraping through her hair and across her temples as her head falls backwards in utter frustration. Talon hands coming away from her scalp and settling on the bar with some force. *

[Danicka Musil] [Dibs, when… okay I’m not sure what the list is for dibs, but! Put me on it!]

[Delilah Marciano] Delilah eases out of the chair she sat in, her hand drops to the phone sitting on the table, picking it up and stares down at the screen for a brief second, and then tucks it away inside the inner breast pocket of her suit jacket. She is tall, only because of the advantage point her heels provide her, she stands with shoulders squared back and chin tilted up.

The woman doesn’t exactly command authority, but there is a coolness in her demeanor. A calm, collected disposition that expresses patience, clearly her gesture to stand, instead of sit idly and listen meant she had something to say. She is an unknown face, a stranger to the kin that have served this sept in the past and now in the present.

[Calling DIBS!]

[Rain McKellar] Rain’s arms are crossed low over her middle. Her expression is somewhat anxious, but when she looks up to August as the other Gaian speaks it is with as much support as she can muster in this tense environment.

[Carter Roth] Carter frowns deeply at Balance Without Faults words and he shakes his head, an angry look flitting behind his eyes.

[Balance Without Fault] — and the eightball comes back to Balance.

“I’m sorry to hear you’ve been so ill-used by your former mate, August. Tell us the name of this Garou so that we all know his dishonor.”

The eightball goes back to August.

[Dibs list is currently: August, Matthieu, Danicka, Delilah.]

[August Grant] “Paul Kellogg. He seems to have .. left..” She’d rather use the word fled.. “the city.” And once again, the eight ball is passed on.

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget stands at the doorway, listening to the conversation while munching on part of a sandwich. The tightness to her muscles and the smirk on her face expresses her discontent with the line of conversation. She takes a glass of ice water over to Carter and leans against his side. She offers the frigid beverage to the other kin, the corners of her mouth turning in a slight smile, an expression that simply says: here.

[Kora] Kora listens as Rain says her piece; her arms tighten when Balance Without Fault directs her to see to Izzy’s complaint. The look she gives the Grand Elder is direct, her expression ironic, but not wry. When Carter speaks, the heavily pregnant Fenrir audibly rolls her eyes (seriously, Nash can [i]hear/i] it). She flashes him a look when he speaks up. Except for the obvious tension, the expression is quiet, animal, unreadable.

[Starla Navarro] Starla clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, shaking her head. She looks over her should at Kora, catching the eye-rolling expression of the Jarl. She turns back in her seat, shifting closer to Rain and draws a comforting arm around the kin’s shoulders, hugging her.

[Jackson Montgomery] [[Add Jackson in after Delilah]]

[Derek Anderson] Derek listened, standing near Rain, August and Jackson. He owuld have loved to stand with people from his tribe but Sasha and Katherine weren’t there, Gabriel wasn’t invited and he didn’t rally knewMatthieu except glimpsing at him at the loft the other night.

He looked relax, hands in his pockets. He had nothing to say about all this really. He has been well treated by his Tribe, other Garou and kinfolks he has met. Well Remy was a jerk but even then, it went pretty ok when he met him. He knew some people had problems with Garou, that some had bad experiences in the past. He wasn’t one of them. Maybe it’ll come, maybe he’ll be like Izzy or maybe not. But for now, his life was good.Maybe he didn’t need much, or maybe it was his upbringing, butr he was..ok with the way things were.

[Joey] When the meeting first came to order, Joey sat looking slightly away from the circle, her head moving nearly imperceptibly to the beat of some rhythm in her head. As soon as the eight ball started going around, though, her attention was on the people in the room, her dark eyes moving from speaker to speaker. For the most part, she just watches, listening attentively. She’s silent, even when Izzy speaks up about her punishment, though there’s a tension to her brow, a slight downward turn to the corners of her mouth. The frown doesn’t leave her face, in fact worsens, especially when August speaks up, the kinswoman so obviously pregnant. Joey knew her mate, knew him for the filthy son of a bitch he could be, and not for the wisdom he supposedly held in the Nation. The fact that he would abandon his mate was hardly surprising to her, but infuriating. Wasn’t August the girl he’d once mistaken Joey for? What a prick.

[Carter Roth] Carter takes that glass with a nod to Bridget as great a thanks as he could give at the moment, and sips it, still looking displeased but for now…silent.

[Matthieu] When the 8ball comes his way he stands in his usual regal posture before kin as well as his peers. He takes the time to acknowledge all who choose to look at him with a smile before speaking up and addressing the others present.

“I hear kin speaking about unity, and about working together and about organization. So allow me to speak up and please do hear what I have to say.”

“Harrier’s Grace was founded under the idea that the Mortal world is an important one which we garou have little direct grasp upon. In the heart of a city as large as Chicago we stand in an awkward position where mundane threats could see us utterly destroyed without the means to address them.”

He takes the time to look over faces one by one.

“You wish to take part in the nation. You wish to take an active role in the pursuits of your own people then now is your chance. Harrier’s Grace was founded specifically with the Kin in mind and with time and your assistance we should like to see that all are both cared for, as well as allowed to take an active role in this nation’s happenings. We need eyes and ears, additionally we need faces and talented minds.”

“The Mundane World is your world and if “We” the Garou are to control it we need our kin to stand with it. So any who stand ready to take an active role in a pack who will share in it’s endeavours with all Garou and Kin who take part please step forth after this meeting.”He smiles a little to everyone present.

“I do not wish this to be a recruiting event for a pack but what I am hearing is that Kin would like a chance to take a more active role in their society. This is what Harrier’s Grace was formed with the intention of seeing through. So it remains relevant to the situation.”

He then looks around at the others involved.

“We are one nation, we cannot exist without the whole of that nation working in unison. Our kin are our support network, our homes, and our families. Whatever one feels of their unique and individual position within this nation know now that we are not oblivious to the plight of our kin. We live and die with the hope that our people will remember us and more than anything our people are our kin.”

“Perhaps we do not always show the proper deference or respect but we have a very difficult job.”He then turns his attention to Izzy.”When our kin stand and denounce us as if we have somehow broken some sacred vow it comes as a potent and dangerous blow. There are warriors in their graves at this very moment who have died defending the kin of this sept. I also promise you right now that if you were in danger there are at least one or two garou in this room alone who would stupidly rush off to their own deaths in order to rescue you. Remember this when you find yourself doubing the importance our kin hold to us.”

“In the end we ask of our kin nothing more or less than we ask of ourselves.”He says with a hint of a smile back at the kin.”In the end we must all stand ready to give everything for this nation if that is what we must. That cannot be negociated it simply must be.”

[Balance Without Fault] [Current dibs list: Danicka, Delilah, Jackson]

[Kora] (dibs!)

[Balance Without Fault] [and for the record – applying a -2 honor hit to Paul’s sheet for getting publicly denounced before auspice and tribal councils, plus half the city’s kin, reduced him to subcliath status. normally i wouldn’t announce minor renown tweaks, but in this case it’s a fairly substantial change in how other chars would perceive him.]

[Balance Without Fault] […if, y’know, the char ever gets reactivated *LOL*]

[Balance Without Fault] [last OOC note! if your character holds precedence and wants to use it, make a note in your dibs-calling so i don’t have to ask individually!]

[Danicka Musil] [I’m almost there! Sorry for the wait!]

[Danicka Musil] It’s as though she had mental notes. Danicka gets the 8-ball after the Galliard Elder and speaks up. Directly, in fact, to Carter Roth.

“I know what you can do,” she says plainly, and simply. Maybe even gently, though her voice is levelled directly at him in public. “I also know, and I am the only person currently in this room who knows as well as you do, what it means to be raised as a Kin of Thunder.

“The Garou will never see you as their equal. You may be able to heal with a touch, but you will never be able to fight as well as they can. You will never know what it is like to enter a new body and hunt on all fours. You cannot cross between worlds at will. You will never share a full measure of their power, and so you will never be seen as their equal.” She pauses a moment. “You say you will not work for the Nation without equality. You will never get it. And in this way — knowing what the stakes are, knowing what we all stand to lose — you are more selfish and dishonorable than any Kinfolk in this room.

“Even in human government, if you ally insults you and will not yield, will not compromise, those alliances end, often bloodily. So too will your connection to the Garou you want to treat you as an equal. Work with them or work alone, but do not get in their way or you will be cut down. We aren’t fools, Mr. Roth, not raised in our tribe. Amunet is trying to find a way to decrease our marginalization. And if you want to be involved, at some point you will have to submit to another’s leadership — and it might be Kin, but ultimately it will be to the Garou. Suck it up or get out of the way.”

A pause. She looks at Amunet. “You do guard the alliance jealously, Amunet. Bridget is right about that. You seemed secretive even to me, when I tried to show you nothing but support and interest. You need to work on that attitude, or all your efforts are going to be in vain. When you come to this meeting and then break the rules, you don’t show yourself as a very good leader for Kinfolk, much less someone the Garou might listen to. I want this to work. By god, believe me, I want this to work. But the Kinfolk have to grow up. We all have suffered, but not a thing is going to get done til we all get over it for the sake of the greater good. And those of you who can’t do that, whose angst and baggage is too much to let go of, I don’t even know why you bothered to show up.”

She takes a deep breath and exhales it slowly. “The last attempt at a coalition of kinfolk failed because the Kin involved wanted it to be some kind of perfectly equal democracy, and that will. Not. Work. Even Garou have to follow orders they don’t agree with sometimes. We do too, if we want to be of any real use at all.”

[Balance Without Fault] [delilah, jackson, kora, and then BWF is retaking the ball!]

[Kora] (drop Kora from the list, pls!)

[Carter Roth] Carter meets Danika’s gaze and he shakes his head at the woman. Before flipping her the bird, he might not have the 8 ball, so he won’t speak, but the message is clear enough.

[Delilah Marciano] When the 8 ball finds its way into the Glass Walker’s hands, she holds it up, gives it a good hard shake. She stares at the rubber triangle for a second; the curve of her generous mouth etches into a thinly veiled frown.

“Will this end well?” Delilah asks the ball, “Maybe.”

She turns her eyes up to meet the Grand Elder’s gaze for second, tilting her head to watch the rest of the room. “This, esteemed rhya, is the breeding ground for the discontent. You ask us for our opinions, you tell us to lay our grievances out into the open, so that we may be heard, so we may have a voice…”

A beat, her body shifts, rolls the plastic ball between her hands, “What is this all for? To what purpose will listening to our bitching serve you, in your judgment of us? They are unhappy, they expressed this, and yet, it will not change. We all know this – you said it yourself, it’s not a democracy.”

She shakes her head slowly, “Amunet is trying to organize an alliance, it has been said by Ms. Musil, it will not work. There is no organization, this is like trying to herd cats, they won’t cooperate without first laying a foundation. Training kinfolk in self-defense and first-aid will do very little against a monster breathing down their necks. If the Wyrm wants to kill us, it will do so.”

“The best efforts of the kin, if they wish to come together and organize, is to take a step away from the front lines, and work behind the scenes as we are meant to do. With our mortal influences, our skills, and our connections. We are the first line of defense in covering up the messes that the Garou like to make in the mundane world.”

With that, she shrugs her shoulders and hands the ball off to the next person that so desires it.

[Kora] (change my mind still keeping dibs!)

[Danicka Musil] Carter flips Danicka off. She shrugs at him and gestures to Danny that she’d like an ice water.

[Balance Without Fault] [bwf takes the ball!]

[Izzy Montoya] She looks around and finally grabs a glass of ice water, and taps her ashes into it. It’ll do for now. It also serves to keep her expression hidden for a moment.

It’s likely a good thing.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Did he cut or did I lose my turn? ­čÖé ]]

[Holden] [cutteR!]

[Balance Without Fault] [he totally cut.]

“First and last strike for you, Mr. Roth.”

Then, to Delilah:

“I was actually about to address that. I’ve got a few things on my agenda tonight, and we’re still on number one. I’d like to hear specific concerns from kin first and settle them as I can — so frankly, Garou and kin of Maelstrom, we’re starting to get a little off topic with all the philosophy.

“After that, I’ve got two incidents I want to go over. After that, I want to discuss and settle certain issues with the coalition itself.

“Let’s get back to the kin. Specific concerns, bring them forth.”

— and on to Jackson.

[Gina McClaren] *Gina’s heard enough, and she who had a voice designed – accent and all – for other’s pleasure in her speaking – had nothing nice to say. So like her sweet pikey mother had told her with a rap of knuckles across teeth –

“Effen ye’ve naethen nice tae say, fer christs sakes jes shut yer fookin crumbhole.”

She moves towards the kitchens, bumping past the folk in the door with a low sung “Oot the road please” – before moving to fuss with the food there, warming what had grown cold, cooling what had grown warm . Taking a hefty slug from a dented flask drawn deep from the V of dark cleavage. Liquor finally offered to Bridget and Carter in turn.*

[Carter Roth] Carter grimaces at Balance without Fault and shakes his head at the man, he does not however flip the man the bird. He simply looks to Bridget who was standing by his side looked back to Balance, and dropped his water letting it clatter to the floor loudly, maybe even shatter. He looked around at his fellow kinsman, all who had come here with the understanding that they would be free to speak…obviously that was not the case.

Before he turned and walked out a brief nod given to Gina and her alcohol.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] He takes the 8-Ball with a respectful nod. Yes, he is a good kin. Mostly.

“I had one more concern to bring up, Rhyas. It seems like…and I don’t think this is an endemic issue, but I’ve seen it a couple times now…some Garou try to instruct kin who…well, really shouldn’t be. And I know people may wonder what right I have to say that. But I grew up in a family that was blessed. Both of my siblings were Garou. My father was an Ahroun. I like to think I know a fair amount, though not everything, about certain matters. I won’t give a ton of examples…but one I specifically recall is that a kin, new to our city and rather wet behind the ears, was witness to a Thrall frenzy that took place here. I was present and got the kin to safety…after I left, said kin was told by a Garou that in case of a frenzy, playing dead was a good idea. As if a Garou who was in frenzy, especially Thrall frenzy, would just leave them alone if they were lying prone and pretending to be dead.”

He pauses, trying to figure out how to word this without seeming disrespectful. “To be honest, I was dumbstruck when the kin told me this. It’s…really bad advice, to say the least. I’ve passed it on to Roman, who has passed it further on…but it seems like some Garou could use some kind of instruction themselves before they’re taking kinfolk under their responsibility.”

He hands it back to Balances-Without-Fault.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Oh fuck. You know who that was supposed to be. ­čśŤ ]]

[Danicka Musil] [*points and laughs at samael*]

[Nash] [I for one am proud of Sarita and wish him all the best.]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[I’m working and shit and it was bound to happen eventually AND LEMME ALONE! *mock cries and runs away* Okay nah, it’s funny, ngl]]

[Balance Without Fault] Over behind the bar, Danny suddenly blurts out a cough that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. He claps his hand over his mouth and holds up the other. “I know, Mr. Balance. First and last warning. Sorry.” And he mimes the zipping of his mouth.

Balance, for his part, takes the ball and answers Jackson directly. “Do you or does anyone know the name of this Garou?”

The ball goes back to Jackson.

[Quinn] So far, Quinn hasn’t had anything to bring up, no concerns or grievances to air. For the most part, she keeps out of the way, helping where she can but generally staying under the radar. But when someone says the advice given in times of Thrall was to “play dead,” her blue eyes widen, then her fine dark brows constrict.

When she rises, it’s not to intercept that passage of the eight ball. It’s to raise a brow at Carter Roth, the look simply How rude, trail briefly in his wake, and bend to retrieve the fallen glass of water. She gestures to Danny to bring a towel or something to clean up the water.

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget writes something on a napkin and tucks it into Carter’s hand before he decides to shatter his glass all over the floor and make his way out. She stifles a tiny laugh– it’s not at all audible and she turns her face in Danny’s direction so she doesn’t disturb the conversation– but it’s there.

Gina thankfully offers up some booze, which the Stag kin thankfully takes so she can stifle her grin and shut the fuck up.

[Jackson Montgomery] He takes the ball and seems hesitant to name names at the moment. The information was passed along, but he was given a request. “Kristen. She’s a Fianna Theurge who stays here at the Brotherhood…I don’t know her last name or her deed name.” Handed back.

[Kieran Mondblume] *His eyes widen at that, and he looks back and forth. He frowns, clearly pondering.*

[Balance Without Fault] “Jenny,” Balance speaks directly to the woman watching quietly from over by the kitchen door, “can you get a message to Kristen? Let her know a Thralled Homid would sooner munch a dead body than ignore it, and that maybe she shouldn’t run around teaching the kin for a while.

“Unfortunately,” this is to all, “Garou rarely have time these days to be fully trained before stepping out into the world as Cliaths. The war’s too desperate, and we need soldiers. The downside is occasionally we get a good soldier whose education has been a little lacking in certain non-essential regards.

“There’s really no way prevent these things from happening. I can’t publish a manual of Everything You Should and Shouldn’t Say To Kin. All we can do is troubleshoot one incident at a time, so I appreciate your bringing this up.”

And the ball goes to Kora.

[Danicka Musil] There’s a glance from Shadow Lord Kinswoman to Shadow Lord Elder when Carter leaves. It’s hard to read, for those that don’t know her — for those that are, at the moment, invested in other conversations. He might understand. He might not, even as well as he knows her.

Danicka sips her ice water, and waits for the next blowup.

[Gina McClaren] *Gina’s expression at the breaking of glass is one of frank annoyance. She stands in the kitchen in her barefeet, and hisses irritation. Singing lowly to bridget – yes.. without the 8-ball.*

Trade ye tha sip o’ firewater fer yer gi’en tha broom, Bridget darlin. Dinnae fancy me bloody feet on account o’ foolishness, aye?

[Balance Without Fault] [wait, is Kristen there? i see her logged in. i know patrick’s the fianna alpha, but jacqui ain’t here tonight. well, if Kristen’s here, BWF would speak directly to her.]

[Balance Without Fault] Danny, meanwhile, is hurrying over with dustpan and broom. He shakes his head mutely at Gina and Bridget, forefinger to lips, waving them off. The message is clear: I got it!

[Kristen Burke] ((I was told that Kristen was not allowed to be here As such she has not tried to speak or rebut what was said about her.))

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget moves to action, sets her glass down on the bar, and helps pick up Carter’s mess despite her amusement. It’s alright, the movement gives her something to do. She shakes her head at Danny and helps him anyway.

[Balance Without Fault] [OK, I just saw Jacqui sign on, so I guess Kristen wouldn’t be there after all. Assume Jenny sends her a polite note repeating what BWF said, only a lot nicer and reflexively-apologetic!]

[Gina McClaren] *Gina remains in place. You know. So as not to step in glass with the bare feet. But Danny gives her the shush and she raises an eyebrow in a clear expression of “Oh Enough.” An incredulous shake of her head mirroring the Fianna’s.*

[Quinn] Quinn’s gotten most of the bigger chunks gathered carefully into one hand. When Danny arrives with dustpan and broom, she smiles warmly and rises to carry her burden to the nearest trash bin, which happens to be in the kitchen. When she comes back out again, she weaves around the outside of the circle to return to her seat.

[Kora] There’s something – implicitly feral about the heavily pregnant Garou tonight. She’s standing, not sitting. She should sit. Some of the people tonight are long winded – not telling stories, not remembering deeds, not discussing the dead – just talking.

Those closest to her can feel her restlessness like ozone in the air around her. It does not take much to bring it forward these nights, careful as she has to be now, pregnant as she is. Alone here tonight, her brother – her Godi – gone, her beta in another Sept, seeking his own tribe for challenge.

By the time the eight-ball comes her way, Carter is gone. Her dark eyes follow his path through the room; she catches the scribbing Bridget does on a napkin, watches until the kinsman has left the restaurant.

The creature’s generous mouth flattens then. Whatever she meant to say is distilled down to this: “I have kept my territory open to all tribes, Garou certainly, kin more so. It’s unreasonable to expect you to live in a city and somehow keep track of our changing, Balkanized territory. But, Wyrmbreaker-rhya, that man is barred from mine. I trust you will pass it on to him.”

[Kieran Mondblume] [Dibs?]

[Balance Without Fault] [back to BWF, then Kieran!]

[Honor’s Compass] Katherine and Patrick both here, somewhere, and their player is very apologetic for being tardy! She suggests Katherine is looking very pretty in white standing somewhere near pack-mates and as well as Balance Without Fault and Patrick is over yonder possibly looking confused — also in a very pretty way, albiet more masculine — or simply bored.

Carry on!

[Adamidas] She opens her mouth, then closes it. Her attention seems to be intent on what is going on, and before she can really say anything, the Fury turns her head in the direction of… something. Slightly to the left. She gives the Grand Elder a look and taps her chest with two index fingers, then gestures behind her with her thumb.

Whatever that look says, it must be important. If given the okay, she slips out as quickly as she enters. Just as understated, and punctuated with a pop.

[Balance Without Fault] Though Carter’s departure didn’t provoke an immediate response from the Garou named for his balance, it’s remarked on when the ball comes back into his possession.

“Wyrmbreaker, your kinsman disrespected this gathering again with his dramatic departure. See to it. And let him know that his antics only resulted in the very kin he professes to champion scrambling to clean up his mess.”

He nods to Adamidas, then, before continuing.

“At this point I’m going to make a last call for kin to bring forward their concerns. If there’s nothing else, we’re moving on.”

[on to Kieran! and if there are any more kin concerns, call dibs now cuz BWF is about to move things along]

[Quinn] [dibs because I gotta get something out in case I have to bail before the end!]

[Wyrmbreaker] Wyrmbreaker nods mutely to Kora and and Balance, the second nod deeper than the first. Then he gets up, leaning over to murmur briefly to Danicka before excusing himself from the gathering.

[Kieran Mondblume] *He pushes up, and then he takes the eight ball, shaking it idly.* Clearly, if he’s getting pissed off enough to drop a glass onto the ground and leave, something screwed up happened to him in the past. I think that’s part of the problem. We can’t fix these problems without years and years of therapy that we don’t have time for.

*He tosses the eight ball to his other hand.* But I will say, I’ve noticed every kin has their skills and talents. I don’t think I’m alone in saying, I’d like to hear about those instead.

[Quinn] The tall Fiann has retaken her seat now. It should be noted that she’s wearing clothes, and they’re probably pretty nice, and probably includes a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal the tattoo on her right arm. Nothing fancy, just some cool looking birds.

Anyway!

She sits up a little straighter when there seems to be a lull, lifts her chin, and indicates she’d like the magic eight ball next. When it comes to her, Quinn doesn’t shake it to read her fortune, though she does smile a little down at it before standing to address the assembled.

“Hello,” she says, her voice warm, and still carries a touch of a Baltimore accent. “I’m Quinn, I own The Winchester tavern up in Lake View. Some of you might’ve heard of it. Like The Brotherhood, we’ve only got kin on staff, so it’s a safe place. If any of you are in the area and find yourself in need of a place to rest or otherwise recuperate for a while, the doors are open. To Kin and Garou alike.” After that, she rolls the ball from one hand to the other, says, “That’s it,” and passes it down the line rather than tossing it to the grand elder.

[Nash] The Jarl is understandably restless. On this side of the bar, the Fenrir are all standing; Nash looks like he probably ought to sit down, but for the moment, he’s still on his feet, his right arm held up against his midsection while bruised eyes watch the proceedings–silently, now that that first [and last] outburst is over with.

There is a lot going on, between Strider and Lord Kinfolk slamming out and slamming glasses. Nash, unlike many others, doesn’t have to stifle laughter. He glances around, then finds a place to rest his eyes when Kora starts to speak. He looks back at her when the Uktena speaks, as if looking for something, but he doesn’t lean over to whisper or anything else that might be considered disruptive.

[Delilah Marciano] Delilah sighs; she steps away from the table glancing around at the assembly one final time. She has heard enough, and the Grand Elder has yet to get beyond the first line of questioning. She turns away, slipping off in silence towards the back entrance of the Brotherhood’ hand retrieves her phone, texting her driver to come around to the back side to pick her up as she left the meeting.

[Kora] There’s something about the way Kora handled the eight-ball. Held it as if it were a cracked bone, as if there were marrow in it – rather than likely toxic water locked behind a window with catchy sayings on a plastic weighted die by children chained to extruding machines in some unlikely backwater of Guangdong province, China.

That sense of animal lingers around her. Her hair is pale, fine-stranded, her skin equally pale, winter-thing, dark eyes set above sharp cheeks made softer by the extra weight of advanced pregnancy. No matter: the wolf is still visible underneath. As now. Nash glances at her, and she lifts her chin, canting her head, dark eyes finding his with an unerring sort of grace. She holds the look for a quiet moment, then glances away.

[Balance Without Fault] The eightball comes back to Balance eventually, passed hand to hand until someone loses patience and tosses it. Catching it neatly, the Grand Elder takes a drink of water before going on.

“Let’s discuss that in a minute, Kieran, when we talk about the coalition some more. I have two incidents I want to go over. Unfortunately, Amunet, they both involve you.

“First up: the Brotherhood defense plans were posted up a couple of weeks ago, and you seemed to have something to say about it. Jenny mentioned you removed the original posting as something of an act of protest.” Over by the kitchen, Jenny looks mildly mortified. “What was that about, and has that been settled?”

[Amunet Knezevic] “It was less an act of protest than an act of frustration, Rhya. Again, the perception of being dictated to, rather than being acknowledged as being willing to work together. I apologize for my rash decision, and hope that my actions will not reflect poorly on those who can be held responsible for me.”

Her fingers run in her hair, eyes flickering away before meeting BWF’s once more. “It has been offered that there be a meeting with myself and those charged with the safety of the Brotherhood. I believe it is just a matter of finding a convenient time for everyone, and then the matter should be settled.”

[Danicka Musil] [Dibs!]

[Gina McClaren] *Her flask of corn liquor is reclaimed and settled back in her assets as she steps aside for the exiting Glasswalker kin. Strider kin maneuvering her way out of the kitchen with an eye to the floor, wary for any invisible shards lying in wait for small burnished feet. The kin moves to stand between Leon and Matt, dwarfed by a good foot or more by each. Curvy kin’s body language filling in the gaps where verbal communication was not allowed. She leans on Mirror’s whisper, floury skirt no doubt soiling his perfectly pressed suit. A painted toe prods Hostile Takeover’s knee, accompanied by a wry smile and a roll of eyes. Familiarity and Affection for both, mingled with no small exasperation at the proceedings. Her attention shifts to those speaking.*

[Honor’s Compass] [Kate has something to add! How do I — *hits the buzzer*]

[Danicka Musil] [Danicka yields to the ranked Garou present *gavel*]

[Wyrmbreaker] [dibs order is Kate, Danicka, then probably BWF.]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Sarita doesn’t fail to notice Gina’s brief interaction, such as it is, with Leon. Her eyes narrow a little bit, watching them, and anyone paying attention to her would notice a bit of bristling. She doesn’t speak out, merely watches for a long moment before looking back.

Yeah. She’ll be dealing with that later.

[Matthieu] Matthieu made certain to follow the kin across the floor. Whether Gina knew it or not those eyes followed her quietly. She drew closer and closer and even took the chance to squeeze herself between he and his beta. A slight smile grew and he peeked up at the woman with a hint of a smile. She had likely been drinking and was feeling pleasant. Which was surprisingly okay with the Garou who looked up at her with familiar eyes.

He didn’t speak however, simply welcomed her to join if she pleased.

[Leon Davenport] Finally something interesting happening to this meeting And no it’s not an angry kin storming out or incidents involving one with the Broho’splan or anything else. No, it’s the presence of a beautiful caramel skinned Strider kin, moving between him and his Alpha.

Shelean into Matt and that makes him smile, a genuine rare one from the Ahroun these days. Then she prds hm and the smile grew wider. He kept hi hands in his pants pockets, his smile turning into a grin. Then his piercing blue eyes were back on the meeting

There has been no GW kin here that he knew of. After all he knew Delilah only by her GWnet handle. He didn’t want any of his tribe’s kin getting into troubel tonight. He seem ot have had his wish granted.

[Kieran Mondblume] *His eyes, however, remain on Amy, and the Grand Elder. He looks, very briefly, worried, though it passes rather quickly. Nothing else in the meeting seems to catch his dark eyes.*

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget finally retakes her seat, glass in hand. Her brown eyes shift around the room as if for a second, she forgot where she was. The kinswoman shakes it off and sips the remaining whiskey, her eyes floating somewhere between Patrick and Kieran for whatever reason.

[Honor’s Compass] Honor’s Compass, who has, up until this moment been relatively silent, merely a formidable presence in so far as a regal Silver Fang of her ranking should be, standing to one side with her arms neatly folded over her chest; her coat open to reveal silk blouse beneath, the designer jeans and knee-high boots.

Immaculate as ever, she somehow managed to avoid it becoming ridiculous; her carefully arranged hair; her glossed lips. It was the animal grace in her that controlled it; the thrill of danger posed by those pale eyes of hers as they sweep the assembly, as manicured nails close over the eight ball.

Her eyes find Sarita’s sister.

“If I may, Rhya,” she says in her voice, rippling with its hint of french gentility, “I have some knowledge of these goings on. I was approached here at the Brotherhood by Adara, Song of Life, a Black Fury Galliard I believe my Alpha put in charge of the Brotherhood plans, along with Adamidas. She told me of the issues with the Kinswoman.”

A beat. “She asked my council, and two sides to this issue were brought before me, one from Garou and the other spoken on the behalf of the Kinfolk by one of Cockroaches Kin.” The Fang’s lip curves a little, inexplicably. “My sense was that they were working at cross-purposes, here. The Kinfolk, rightly enough, want their say in their own safety, but the Garou have their own notions on how Kinfolk need to be so protected.

My advice was to meet together, and discuss it. I believe this is the meeting Amunet is referring to.”

[Nash] With his left hand, Nash reaches up to scrub at his scruffy face when the tiny Indian woman moves across the room and proceeds to cause the blood pressure of at least four Trueborn to spike. He doesn’t sigh or stare, but when his hand comes away from his face and returns to his jacket pocket the kinsman glances over at Kora again.

That glance lasts only so long as the silence between active speakers; a few seconds after the regal blonde begins to speak, his eyes slowly drift away to acknowledge her.

[Rain McKellar] ((Rain will stay with the other Gaian kin until the meeting lets out, but her player must go to sleep soon. Thanks, all, for the scene.))

[Balance Without Fault] [night!]

[Danicka Musil] This time, the ball comes to Danicka more easily, since her mate has excused himself from the proceedings for the moment and it seems that Danicka doesn’t trust herself to catch the bizarre little toy if lobbed her way. She hears about the defense plan — something she’s only heard rumors of, not the story she just got. She looks at Amunet briefly when she takes the 8-ball, but in the end, doesn’t address the Strider kin as she did earlier.

“-Rhya,” she says, to Balance Without Fault, “the Kinfolk have tried before to establish leadership amongst themselves before, but in that case and in this one, there’s a serious problem with Garou being kept out of the loop.” She thinks a moment. “If the Kinfolk want to be heard by the Garou — to have a voice, for example, in deciding the defense plan for the Brotherhood of Thieves, to have at least some kind of vote in matters that affect them personally, then is there any reason why the Garou in charge of defense for this place should not have a Kinfolk — preferably a resident — whose counsel is sought in decisions about it?”

A beat. She blinks those round, green eyes of hers, turning to look at Amunet. “And maybe, if only to limit the amount of suspicion and paranoia and rumors of discontent, maybe an alliance of Kinfolk would have a better chance of success if there is a Garou involved in the proceedings and decisions being made — not to dictate, not to rule, but to communicate the needs the Garou have to the Kin, and vice versa?”

[Balance Without Fault] Balance listens to Katherine with clear attentiveness; then Danicka.

“It’s become increasingly clear to me tonight that some level of constant communication needs to be set up between the Garou of this Sept and the Kin. That’s part of what I wanted to discuss when we talk about the coalition a little more. I realize I’ve delayed the discussion of the coalition again and again, but I’m going to have to ask for your patience a little longer.”

He turns back to Amunet.

“There will always be some level of dictation, Amunet. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. The Nation is not a democracy. There is one Grand Elder. One Warder. One warleader. One Garou in charge of the defense of the Brotherhood, and one Garou assisting her.

“It’s not your place to rebel against that order. If you feel unheard, then speak. You may bring your suggestions up, just as anyone else can — and it seems that with Honor’s Compass’s counsel, you intend to do exactly that.

“You may not, however, display blatant insubordination to those who rank over you. And you must understand that the final say still belongs to those charged with the keeping of the Brotherhood. This isn’t a kin/Garou issue. It’s a simple issue of hierarchy. I would say the same to your sister Sarita, or even to the Philodox Elder.”

Balance turns the magic eightball over in his hands, then continues.

“The second point I wanted to address specifically is this. I’ve heard reports that you were seeking a Garou to … beat you? And that you would tape this as some sort of instructional video?

“What’s the story there, Amunet? I hardly know where to begin.”

[Amunet Knezevic] She looks very tired, very suddenly, tongue bitten to keep herself quiet as she waits her turn.

[Kieran Mondblume] *He flinches visibly.*

[August Grant] A brow rose.

That sounded like the single most stupid idea she’s heard in awhile.

Was that girl daft?

[Izzy Montoya] She’s wanting…. what?! Izzy’s head whips about so quickly her hair flies in a semi circle, smacking her in the face while she stares at Amunet with dropped jaw…. only to have it snap shut on the comment not quite bitten back..

“Motherfu…” snap.

She turns, and stalks to the kitchen. She needs a serious drink. Now.

[Quinn] Quinn actually does a double-take, and frowns at Amunet.Her thoughts are similar August’s. What would that even teach?

[Kieran Mondblume] *He raises one hand, however, before forgetting himself, and he holds his hand out for the ball.*

[Jackson Montgomery] He blinks as the idea for the original plan comes out in a horribly mangled, telephone version of what was actually discussed. He looks at Balances With Fault, then at Amunet and back, before he takes a [[DIBS]] after Amunet.

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget tenses in her little corner of the world, and the nearly empty glass falls into her lap before she catches it. A slight amount of whiskey and ice bleed into the fabric.

“Shit,” she says under her breath. Looking directly to BWF with an expression of apology, she zips it quickly, gathers her skirts, and moves towards the kitchen following Izzy.

[Kieran Mondblume] ((Though I am willing to wait for dibs till after Amy and Jackson have had their say))

[Leon Davenport] Leon blinked a few times, eyes on Amy. Ok…now that was..well..totally crazy even for her. He actually had to look at Sarita with a brow raised as if asking her..what the hell? But he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t smile or anything. He was mostly, perplexed by all of this.

He had an idea why she’d ask that, but to him it dodn’t seem like the right way to do things.

[Danicka Musil] Danicka, in the face of people restraining the urge to curse, of staring, of double-takes… blinks at Amunet. There’s no anger, no sudden omgwtfbbq. But surprise. And definite, strong interest in hearing something other than the rumor that Balance Without Fault wants to be explained and clarified.

[Gina McClaren] *Wait – woah.. What? Gina arcs her back away from Matt, squinting at the better bred strider kin across the room. Expression caugt between disgust and disbeleif. She looks up to Matt meaningfully, as if to say “Didn’t I tell you? Crazy. Every fucking one of them.” That flask gets retrieved and sampled from once more.*

[Amunet Knezevic] “Okay. So” She takes a deep breath. Remember what Stefan said, Ames…

“First of all, it was an idea that was being batted around. Just that. I’m unsure why everyone seems content to run around asking everyone else why I’m doing what I’m doing, but that seems to be the trend. It was considered, it was discussed, and nothing has been done. There’s no reason for anyone to assume that it’s moving forward.

As for being secretive and not wanting Garou involvement in the alliance, that is simply not true. The Shadow Lord Nathalie has offered her assistance, and I have taken her up on that. I’m not hiding anything. I’m not trying to exclude anyone that would benefit the alliance.”

She gestures toward the departing Bridget. “She wants to talk, but she wasn’t there for the conversation. She’s referring to Adara, the Fury. She asked to be included in the alliance, and when reminded it was a kinfolk alliance, she compared it to the KKK. Jackson was there for the conversation. I’m sure he can back me up. My issue with allowing her to be part of this isn’t that she’s Garou, it’s that she’s a shitty excuse for a Garou.”

[Quinn] [dibs!]

[Wyrmbreaker] [Dibs is Jackson, Kieran, Quinn right now — though BWF might cut in line at some point!]

[Quinn] [WHOOPS! That was supposed to be Joey!]

[Amunet Knezevic] [I’m assuming she’ll be asked to explain that….]

[Wyrmbreaker] [joey –> jackson –> kieran]

[Kieran Mondblume] ((And Ki gives up his dibs.)) *He lowers his hand again, and then he goes back to listening.*

[Honor’s Compass] [Damn it, now Kate has to speak up. SORRY.]

[Wyrmbreaker] [kate –> joey –> jackson –> kieran]

[Matthieu] His eyes meet Gina’s own and he looks back at the kin though he doesn’t nod. His eyes say enough and he reassures her with a slight pat to the small of her back. Though the Galliard doesn’t wish to appear as if he isn’t listening and taking in every word. Indeed he was listening to everything that was said. Formulating an opinion on each and every personality that shows itself here tonight.

[Izzy Montoya] She’s not long. Long enough to have a shot and pour a second that she brings with her, in time to hear that it was just an idea being bat around, without nay explanation whatsoever. Her jaw tenses, and she finds a space of wall to lean against, setting the glass on the table and lighting another cigarette.

[Jackson Montgomery] [[Officially voicing a request to try to keep a bit closer to the 10 minute posting limit that was established for Dibbers.]]

[Honor’s Compass] Katherine’s eyes cut toward Amy.

“That is the second occasion I have heard, and the first directly from your lips of insult to Song of Life, Amunet. I do not care who you believe you are, who your mate is or how valid your cause — you will pay the respect due to a Garou or you will be sending your mate to every door in the Sept to make amends for your mouth.

I said it before, I say it again.

Respectful disagreement.”

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget returns soon after, patting at her skirt with a towel. She passes Izzy and takes her seat again, then offers her hand up to speak for the second time.

[Bridget Geroux] [Dibs when it gets her direction]

[Kora] Kora does not glance at Amunet. Her dark eyes track Izzy, though, as she weaves through the room. Then, the creature glances back at Nash. Fine blond brows arch eloquently over her shadowed eyes. Restlessness runs patterned beneath her skin. Even standing still she looks ready to prowl.

[Wyrmbreaker] [joey –> jackson –> kieran –> bridget]

[August Grant] Even though she really, really wanted to be here for this lovely conversation – the pregnant girl’s bladder could only hold out so long. So, carefully enough, she made her way to the ladies room .. and then to the kitchen, where she’d find a snack and linger in the door for a moment eating before returning to her chair.

[Joey] The magic eight ball starts to head toward another kin, but the Fostern Rotagar indicates the need for an interception. It goes to Kate first, and when it gets to Joey, she palms it, and inclines her head toward Amy.

“Just t’clarify, this idea,” she reaches up her free hand to pantomime air quotes, “was brought to the elders ’cause you’d already gone at least to Burnout lookin’ for a volunteer. And when I talked to you about it, everything you said told me you were set on goin’ through with it, despite warnings and consequences.

“So you’re not bein’ called out on it just ’cause someone’s followin’ some sort’ve trend.”

The eight ball is passed on.

[Kieran Mondblume] ((Ki actually gave up his dibs.))

[Amunet Knezevic] [dibs after bridget, please]

[Wyrmbreaker] [jackson –> bridget –> amunet!]

[Jackson Montgomery] He takes the 8=Ball and steps forward. “Just to provide my own perspective on this idea. Which, at least when we discussed it, was just an idea. It was brainstorming possibilities, nothing more. Amunet asked me, since I was a film student, if there was a way for us to be able to film…not a Garou beating the tar out of a kinfolk, Amy or otherwise. But potential sparring sessions. The reason for this would be that, if we were in a situation where combat was inevitable, we’d be more capable. This wasn’t ‘Beat the shit out of me and film it and you’ll know what it’s like to be in a fight. Hell, a Garou could spar with someone in homid and we could film that. These specifics weren’t even gone over because it was one three minute portion of one much longer discussion.

“The key was, and what we were discussing, was that if it was done, it would have to be done securely. No internet access to the video. Not multiple copies floating around. Again, this was a big if, and I felt it was conceivably possible, if not a sure thing. No one was setting up sets or anything like that, I wasn’t figuring out lighting and camera angles or what lens to use. As near as I knew, Amunet was checking with Garou to see if there would even be volunteers, because if not the rest didn’t even matter.

He frowns. “If there was some kind of telephone situation where it wasn’t properly communicated, then there you have it. But the idea was far saner and far more brainstorming than that I just heard. Obviously the Veil was our first concern and what we were discussing before any considerations came into play.”

[Hunter] [hunter taking dibs after bridget, before amunet]

[Gina McClaren] *Gina’s taking a fourth shot. Amazing how much alcohol can disappear into the little Indian woman in so short a period of time. The flask’s cap clinks metallic and resolute as its popped on tightly. Flask itself handed to Leon, a flat palm held up, then making an abrupt cutting motion. The fuzziness in her stomach and the hazy tingle behind brown eyes told her anymore would loosen her tongue, and no one wanted that tonight. So the woman who was rapidly becoming a lush entrusts her fire water to the Glasswalker , before settling back against the Silverfang’s comforting hand. Her eyes slip firmly shut.*

[Balance Without Fault] [bridget –> hunter –> amunet]

[Bridget Geroux] “That reminds me when Carter took your injuries last time. We all asked you about the bruises and you wouldn’t answer. I let it go because you seemed uncomfortable, but if I thought for a second you might want someone to beat you up… What the hell, Amy? How do you expect to display leadership among us with… whatever is going on?”

She stops and shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Amy. That got a bit too personal. But when I saw you talking to Song of Life, I just couldn’t hear it anymore. By the way, she has shown nothing but the utmost respect for my crazy ass ways and was one of the very few Garou who has encouraged me to keep doing my work rather than some Garou who have discouraged me from it. Maybe they’ve done it because they cared, but she is one of the few Garou I’d be more than willing to invite to my own house just to shoot the shit. I respect and admire the hell out of the Garou who treat kinfolk– even those not of their tribe– like the family we are. Family might be my whole grievance in the first place.”

“My other issue with the alliance is, like Danicka repeated earlier, that it is too jealously guarded, even from other kinfolk. My father, Meuric ‘Bear’ Geroux for those of you who care about the formality, used to tell me all the time how Septs grow weaker when not even the kinfolk can rely on one another as family.”

[Leon Davenport] He looked at Gina with a grin and took the flask out of her hand, making it disapear in his suit’s jacket. He nodded to her, letting her know it will be returned to her eventually. Not that it wasn’t a big deal if she had something of hers. She had something of him.

So it was with familiarity that he gently nudge her before looking back at those talking.

[Bridget Geroux] [First part got cut off:]
Bridget looks towards Amy with raised eyebrows as she takes the 8 ball, an expression of genuine concern.

[Balance Without Fault] [hunter’s up, then amunet, then BWF is taking the ball]

[Hunter] [oh shit browser didn’t refresh gimme a minute]

[Danicka Musil] At the bar, Danicka glances at the door, wondering about her mate, and frankly about Carter. She sips her water and returns her attention to the discussion. There’s no lightly thoughtful look on her face now. She’s quite serious. Bordering, in fact, on visibly tense.

[Hunter] The eight ball gets grasped in one meaty palm and he doesn’t stand to speak.

“Amy came to me first I believe, out of any Garou, sayin’ she wanted me to do it. I explained this to her at the time but I’ll repeat it because it seems ya’ don’t quite get it Jackson.”

A beat.

“For starters, Amy squarin’ off vs me in any form is just gonna be a beatin’ plain n’ simple. That’s just all there is to it. Secondly from what I was told the purposes for doin’ this was so that kinfolk could get some expertise on how to fight against a fuckin’ spiral — scuse ma language — n’that she’d want me to fight her not just in human form.

Now I don’t know what ya’ know bout’ spirals but fightin’ ya’ is about the last thing they’re gonna do. It won’t be in human form, so sparrin’ vs me in homid ain’t gonna teach ya’ shit. It won’t be to kill ya’ n’I don’t think I need to — nor should I try to, or am adequately able to — express just what they’d be tryin’ to do.

The flaws of this video been pointed out by my Beta quite clearly to Amy, but from where I stand there’s some seriously misguided ideas based on the fact that ya’ thought that me puttin’ a kin near death would actually help anyone learn anythin’ of value against that group’a devils.”

There’s a beat and then:

“The fact that ya’ thought me doin’ that could help is, quite frankly, god damn insultin’.”

[Kora] (going to bed folks. Kora’s still around looking restless and pregnant. Jamie has my permission to NPC her and directions for certain circumstances, cheers!)

[Balance Without Fault] [amunet–>BWF!]

[Amunet Knezevic] “I didn’t want to shame the Trueborn that gave me the bruises, Bridget. No one knew that he was going to heal them, and I certainly didn’t seek him out to do it.

And again, Bridget, you don’t know the whole story. Good for you that you get along with her. I don’t, and I have solid reasons why that is the case.

HOW am I being secretive? What kinfolk have I turned away? I don’t understand how not ramming an alliance down the kin’s throat turns into me being secretive. Explain.”

She flinches when Hunter speaks, eyes searching out anywhere to rest on but him. Her fingers run in her hair again, then move to scratch between her shoulder blades. “Fucking funny how you tell her fucking everything except the shit you’re ashamed of”

[Bridget Geroux] [Dibs if offered]

[Izzy Montoya] She felt Kora’s eyes on her, but she doesn’t meet her gaze. Not yet. Not right away. In fact, it’s not until Hunter’s clarifying that her gaze snaps up again, and there’s something.. something there. Something in dark eyes that’s clearly…

…well. Of all here, only Kora knows and only with passing details. Izzy tightens her hand around the drink, and pushes from the wall. She takes a step forward, and then shakes her head. Then, when she finally looks up and meets Kora’s gaze, her teeth audibly grind, and she turns, sets the drink down and heads to the door.

and if there’s a muttered curse or ten, well. No one who knows her is surprised.

[Balance Without Fault] [bwf is taking the ball!]

[Hunter] There’s a moment where Hunter simply stares at Amy with his jaw firmly set and then? He looks away, relaxes in his seat as much as the — sometimes high strung — Ahroun could ever relax under such conditions.

[Prayers to Broken Stone] Prayers to Broken Stone has been lounging against a wall in his hoodie; arms folded over his chest; sniffing every now and then as if he had a cold. There’s been a beer bottle in one of his hands fairly steadily and at some point; he’d excused himself to raid the kitchen; he returns now, to discussion of beatings and video tapes and something about Hunter being ashamed.

He bites a hunk out of his sandwich, and shuffle-excuses his way back to his little spot like that annoying late-comer at the movies who blocks out the screen as the heroine and her man get it on finally.

[Balance Without Fault] “Enough.” Balance takes the ball back. “I don’t want to dwell on this longer than we have to. This is not a public lynching. I’ll say this, and then we move on.

“Amunet, videotaping a Garou is a very bad idea. Videotaping a Garou in non-Homid form is a worse idea. Asking a non-homid Garou to attack you so you can videotape is insanity. I realize this was a brainstorm. But that sort of idea should never even come to your mind. Not simply because of the threat to the Veil, but because it tells me that you genuinely believe with enough training a kin would have options against a Dancer in warform beyond running.

“Izzy Montoya mentioned earlier that you were going to get people killed. I’m starting to see her point.

“Let me be very clear on this: you can train if you want to. You can learn first aid, you can learn self defense. If the Warleader judges you capable, we are even willing to entertain the idea of an elite kin squad assaulting light targets to support their Garou brethren. But you are not equipped to fight a Garou in warform. If you’re so unlucky as to be caught by one, you should run. And you should teach your friends to run — not lull them into some misguided idea that they might be able to fight and win.”

Balance’s fingers tap restlessly on the eightball for a moment. Then he goes on:

“I want to move on to discussion the coalition, its leadership, and the idea of establishing a Garou-kin liaison to maintain an open line of communication between the kin and Garou of this Sept. Before we get there, I just have two more questions:

“Bridget, you mentioned something about a Garou forbidding you from something you want to do. Be more specific. What do you speak of?

“And Amunet, you accuse Hunter of not speaking of something he’s ashamed of. What are you speaking of?”

[Bridget –> then Amunet, unless she rejects it!]

[Kieran Mondblume] *He looks back to Hunter at that, and he sighs deeply. Looking back to Amy. And then back to BWF. Again watching. He wants to speak, but the words are not coming easily, it seems, so he keeps his mouth shut.*

[Matthieu] Matthieu watches in preparation for Amunet’s response. The Galliard was standing ready and keeping his attention on every word that would come out of the Kin’s mouth.

[Gina McClaren] *Curiouser and Curiouser. Gina’s eyes slowly open, and her gaze rests on Hunter, expression inquiring, her head tilted to the side. Not unlike a german shepard trying to puzzle out an algebra equation.

That is to say – hopelessly lost.

She looks from Leon and Matt back to Hunter, as though she might figure out whats shaking through some sort of elaborate half drunk social triangulation.*

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] The Strider is watching with the most intense look of concentration anyone’s ever seen on her face. It is focused on her sister and the Grand Elder. It could be because she’s curious–tense?–to see what might be said, or it could be because she’s not wanting to look at certain individuals who might raise her ire. Her expression is pained. It’s clear to anyone who might look at her that although her protectorate obligations are over with, it certainly doesn’t mean that she doesn’t care. She knows how her sister must feel right now, what this is like for her, because she knows Amy so well.

She would rather it be her in that place instead of Amy, being questioned and having doubt heaped on by others.

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget fidgets with the ball when it comes her way, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Amy, if that got a bit too personal. Catch me later if you want.”

She continues quickly. “I have on a few occasions been told by several Garou. Forgive me, but one didn’t tell me his name. The other was Simon, who I think expressed concern over my well being. I should explain. The Sept I am from is in the Rockies, in the middle of nowhere. I’m not boasting, but I know I’m a skilled survivalist. It feels unnatural going for so long in the city without getting some fresh air. But on several occasions, without explanation, I’ve been discouraged from going outside of the city to… do my thing.”

The Fianna kin continues, “I don’t understand what the difference is if I’m alone in the city or in the woods. I can handle myself just fine out there, and I’ve gone out there on several occasions on my own before Simon and some others told me I shouldn’t.”

[Balance Without Fault] “And that’s all you’re doing? Just going into the woods to … hike?”

He tosses the ball back.

[Leon Davenport] His shift position slightly, watching Amunet, glancing at Sarita and then Hunter. What will Amy say? He hoped that Amy will decide not to tlk. For herself, for Hunter and maybe for him. He wasn’t sure what Amy meant, what Hunter did or didn’t do., but somethings were sad that didn’t make him entirely comfortable

Thongs has been dealt with and he had no intention to have them brought back to the forefront.

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget catches it, “No. I hunt. I check the trails, get familiar with the landscape. Sometimes, I stay out there for quite a while with little or no supplies. It’s… no different from what I did back home.”

[Derek Anderson] (*things has been dealt..)

[August Grant] {Alright, gotta get to bed – August will stay through the meeting with the other Coggies. Night all.)

[Danicka Musil] [Night! Thanks for playing!]

[Prayers to Broken Stone] [Patrick will take a break from eating to pipe in at some point RE: Bridget.]

[Bridget Geroux] [Add: check the landscape, figure out the flora and fauna.]

[Balance Without Fault] “I see no harm in that. Patrick, you represent the Fianna. What do you think?”

Lob.

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget seems quite pleased with BWF’s comment, but waits on Patrick’s response.

[Hunter] [if anyone wants a description post of hunter’s appearance etc right now let me know otherwise I’m just chillin’ LOL]

[Nash] [I don’t think I’ll survive without one.]

[Rosie] Rosalie has been very quiet. Nothing more than another small body among a wealth of very well bred kin and Garou. While the conversation continues between the primary parties, the kin slips her fingers inside the front pocket of her jeans and removes her cell phone. She is quiet and unobtrusive while her fingers move quickly over the Qwerty keyboard.

[Balance Without Fault] [angelina, since your post is pretty separate from this business with Bridget, you might wanna start pre-writing!]

[Hunter] [AHAHAHA, gina just got a trillion empathy suxx ;((( ]

[Prayers to Broken Stone] Prayers to Broken Stone sets his beer down and catches the eightball the way a baseball player might; both hands. He’s finishing chewing his sandwich as he goes and holds up a finger briefly to swallow, then thump himself over his chest to help work it down.

Brushing crumbs from his mouth, the intensely-blue eyed Galliard of Last Watch speaks simply, without intention for pretty wording.

“Thanks, man — Rhya, man. Uh, look I know Bridget fairly well. I think I can say with an attempt at authority she’s not insane, girl can hold her own when fist comes at face. I have no problem with her hiking in the woods. I think of some of the Kinfolk here, no respect really, but I think of them, she’d do pretty well.

So, yeah.”

He nods at the Fiann, and lobs off the eightball.

[Kieran Mondblume] ((And I am passing out. The coughing has not ceased, so whatever he might say in response I can wait on for now, I think.))

[Prayers to Broken Stone] [no.. DISrespect. Hooboy.]

[Jackson Montgomery] [[Jackson: *Pitches a fit and storms out weeping*]]

[Nash] When his phone buzzes in his pocket, he does not whip it out to see who it is while still in the midst of the meeting. He hears it, and quietly steps out from between Holden and Kora to find some sort of an exit. Being as he’s never been in here before, it takes a moment before he realizes the kitchen is through the swinging doors and manages to make it that way, moving at an unhurried pace, keeping his right arm held to his ribs.

Whatever he sees when he ends up in the kitchen makes him laugh, and then the door swings shut behind him.

[Amunet Knezevic] She catches the ball, eyes on BWF and nowhere else. “I understand that it’s a bad idea, Rhya. I put more stock into Laughs in the Face of Death Rhya’s words than was evident at the time. I assure you, the idea had been abandoned long before this meeting.”

Her teeth catch the corner of her bottom lip for a moment, before her head shakes. “I apologize for the comment. To both you and Burnout Rhya as well. It wasn’t about anything pertinent to the discussion or the Nation, just something that my brother and I should discuss at a later time”

[Rosie] Blue eyes sweep over Amunet’s face but what – if anything – she’s thinking at that moment are not completely obvious. Her fingers ghost over her phone before she slides it closed and stands from her chair where she’d been sitting. There’s a quiet apology given to those seated nearest her before she edges away and manoeuvres a path through the proper area and into the kitchen.

[Balance Without Fault] [crap — this goes in before Amunet — ]

“I’d add only two admonishments to that. First: I’d keep that sort of solitude to a minimum until the kinhunter business has passed. You’ll be easy pickings on your own, miles from anyone else. Second: I hope to Gaia you’re hunting rabbits and deer, not Wyrm creatures.”

[Amunet Knezevic] [*scootches back to make room*]

[Prayers to Broken Stone] Patrick watches as one by one, Kinfolk slip into the kitchen. He cranes his neck.

“What is there some secret door I don’t know of back there?” He calls at random, then grimaces in a ‘my bad’ way if looked at sharply for speaking out of turn. He does gesture at the kitchen to others though, in a what gives manner.

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget shakes her head at that. “Oh, god no. I’m not that much of a moonbrain.”

[Derek Anderson] He lean against the wall, listening, not talking. He has been one of the few Kin who didn’t speak up and was still there. And he wasn’t going to leave until the meeting was over. He was Silver Fang and he would do things properly. Beside, it was somewhat interesting. He learned a few things, watching everyone, listening.

He offered Rain and August a smile as both kin were obiosuly tired, August understandably so, being prengant and all. He will offer her andEla a ride home after the meeting and Rain too, unless she leaves with one of Kora’s people

[Gina McClaren] *Dark eyes slide from Hunter to his Fenrir Packmate. Flick to Gina’s kinfolk tribesmate. Tipsy kin contemplative as she rests against Mirror’s Whisper, considering the garou of Defiance a moment longer. Leon’s tenseness is sensed in a peripheral, instinctive manner, and dealt with just as naturally. Gina tugs his shirt-sleeve in a gesture of comradery, before settling back in to listen. She’d leave to go to “work” once the meeting was over.*

[ok! I have got to sleep or I’m just going to start typing “Ale-Alejandro Ale Alejandrooo” over and over again. Or something equally inane. Good Night folks! Have fun!]

[Joey] [Do I want to know what’s going on in the kitchen? curiositah!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Balance Without Fault] [night!]

[Joey] It’s the laughter that has Joey looking back toward the kitchen, as the Fenrir kinsman disappears behind the swinging door. And it’s Patrick calling attention to it that has her curiosity piqued.

But this meeting is srs bznz. Joey manages to contain that desire to know. At least for now.

[Balance Without Fault] [typing, folks! sorry it’s taking a while!]

[Balance Without Fault] Balance considers Amunet a moment, then nods. “Fair enough. Let’s move on.”

A moment’s pause, reflective. Then Balance takes another drink of water, sets the eightball down beside him, and speaks.

“I think we got somewhere tonight. I think we addressed a lot of concerns, some minor and some major, that needed to be talked about. That said, I think there’s still a lot up in the air, and it’s pretty evident that we need a more permanent mode of communication between the kin and the Garou of this Sept.

“I’m taking a page from my tribesmen in southern California. I’m hereby creating two new offices in this Sept: a Sept liaison amongst the kin, and a Kin liaison amongst the Garou. Their task is simple. They represent the kin and the Garou, respectively, and they interface with each other to make sure there’s an open line of communication at all times.

“If a kin has an issue that requires the attention of the Garou, bring it to the Sept Liaison. He or she is the voice of the kin in this Sept. Whatever the issue, the Sept Liaison is in charge of speaking to the appropriate Tribal Alpha to find a resolution, or — if it’s a matter that affects all the Garou — the Kin Liaison. The Sept Liaison is also tasked with passing critical information from the kin to the Garou. I will consider allowing the Sept Liaison to stand witness at the Crackings of the Bone, though I want to hear the Philodox Elder’s opinion on protocol and precedent first.

“In complement, the Kin Liaison will attend coalition meetings — primarily as a listener, but also as a voice for the Garou when necessary. The Kin Liaison will have a direct line to me and the other Sept and Tribal Elders as necessary. It’s also my hope that the Kin Liaison will have the basic leadership skills necessary to independently handle minor issues.

“Now, as to who will fulfill these roles — Mirror’s Whisper, you spoke earlier of your pack’s role. It seems to me that you’re ideally suited to our Kin Liaison. If you’re willing, the job is yours.”

[Wyrmbreaker] It’s in the middle of Balance’s speech that the door opens and Wyrmbreaker slips back in. He takes his seat by Danicka again. He looks a little worn out, but — rather glad, surprisingly.

There’s no blood on him anywhere. He takes his mate’s hand as he sits, squeezes it once, and then turns to pay attention to the Grand Elder.

[Amunet Knezevic] Her breath catches and holds. There is absolutely no doubt how much she desires to be named to the newly formed position.

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget pays a glance to Amy, her face grows concerned. Her eyes flick back to Balance Without Fault as she backs away towards the bar, making herself less obtrusive. Bridget won’t touch that with a ten foot pole unless someone beat her with it and tied it to her arms.

[Wyrmbreaker] [sorry to wreck your transcript, unbrokenites, but!

Lukas caught up to Carter outside and offered him the choice between getting exiled and going voluntarily into house arrest for a month. Carter agreed to house arrest, so he’ll be shacking up at the Loft. Sorry, Kate!

Lukas also stipulated that he’ll have a stormcrow following him around, and that he’s only allowed to be at the Loft and immediately surrounding areas or at work. If he wants a guest over, he has to get Kate’s permission.

Carter wanted to continue training kin, so Lukas said he’d ask Kate if it was okay for Carter to use the rumpus room. If not, Lukas will find him a dojo or something.

/end transmission!]
to┬áDanicka Musil, Honor’s Compass, Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Honor’s Compass] [I’m typing!]

[Danicka Musil] [Sinclair sez: HAHAHA HOPE YOU GUYS ARE HAVING FUN OUT THERE WITH THE KINFOLK DRAMUHZ. I’M GOING TO TIJUANA TOMORROW TO GET FIREWORKS FOR MY BIRTHDAY. WERD.]
to┬áHonor’s Compass, Sarita Ecos de la Risa, Wyrmbreaker

[Matthieu] He nods his head back at Balance without Fault and his smile shows.”Thank you, I should like that my pack serve as a representative not only of the Garou but as a display of what the Garou and Kin can accomplish together. I would proudly accept the role as I would never wish our kin in this sept to go without a voice. They are the heart of our society and I should like that we can repair any rifts between us soon enough.”He smiles and looks to the other Kin present.

[Honor’s Compass] Honor’s Compass has been frowning in consideration for some time as discussion and debate wore on; when Balance Without Fault calls for her opinion on the matter of a Kinfolk standing in attendance at the Moots, she stirs and tosses a wave of silky gold hair over a shoulder; taking hold once more of the ball.

“I see no true issue with the appointed Kinfolk Liaison attending Moots within reason. I do not believe that unless they have matters to bring forward, they need be present and when they are, it would be my advice, Rhya, that they speak only when other matters have been addressed — unless there is reason why they should speak before the collected Garou.

I would further suggest that bearing in mind whoever gains this position, that their tribal Alpha be held responsible for their safety and conduct during appearances at our Moots.”

[Honor’s Compass] [Kate has no issue with the naughty Kinfolk being chained to her house. She has a free room available for him, chains optional.

She’ll provide him with a spare key and inform him he is welcome to make use of the rumpus space as long as he’s respectful to Kate’s other guests and knows if he steps out of line she’ll put him down.]
to Danicka Musil, Sarita Ecos de la Risa, Wyrmbreaker

[Balance Without Fault] [dibs list: kate –> BWF!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [Sarita says: “Long as I don’t have to dodge gunfire for using all the hot water in the shower, sounds like a plan.” Though she’s super-distracted at the moment, too.]]
to┬áDanicka Musil, Honor’s Compass, Wyrmbreaker

[Danicka Musil] [Sinclair sez: WEEE-OOO. TEQUILAAA.]
to┬áHonor’s Compass, Sarita Ecos de la Risa, Wyrmbreaker

[Balance Without Fault] [i’m an idiot, it wasn’t refreshing.]

[Balance Without Fault] Balance Without Fault listens to Katherine; it’s readily apparent that her word is carefully attended to and weighed. Nodding, he takes the eightball back.

“Fair enough. The Sept Liaison may attend the Cracking of the Bone as a witness. He or she may speak if and only if they have a valid concern to bring forth on behalf of all the kin. The tribal Alpha of this kin is held responsible for the Sept Liaison’s safety and conduct.

“With that said, I’ll consider nominations for the Sept Liaison now.”

[Hunter] [dibs]

[Hunter] Hunter takes the eight ball for the second time tonight and by the way he keeps glancing over his shoulder at the kitchen it’s probably going to be the last time.

“Let me just say Amy’s eager if nuthin’ else. She wants to help n’despite all that’s been said tonight, I think her hearts in the right place which is more than can be said for some kinfolk.

In saying that, I spoke with Imogen Slaughter, she’s agreed to step in and help out the cause that Amy’s started n’I think we’d all be fools not to consider her for nomination. She couldn’t be here tonight cause she’s cleanin’ up the mess one’a our kind left behind, but I think she’d do this if it were offered to her.”

The way he looks at Amy is apologetic if anything, but having said his piece, he hands the eight ball on.

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget makes her way quietly over to Patrick, then leans over and whispers something quietly to her Tribal Elder. It is the briefest of moments before she touches his shoulder and retreats into the kitchen.

[Nash] [Oh shit I’m supposed to be proxying for Liz/Kora!

Yes. Dibbage –> seconding of Hunter’s nomination of Imogen for Kora.]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[DIBS]]

[Amunet Knezevic] Just remember, some people there will be skeptical. Some may even try to show that you is not ready by trying to entice your anger. Do not let them bait you.

She brushes her hair back, putting on her very best poker face. It got them out of San Antonio unscathed, it can sure as fuck get her out of this meeting with at least a shred of dignity.

[Balance Without Fault] [go ahead, sarita – jamie was just OOCing it!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Sarita takes the 8-Ball. And believe it or not, she actually considers the thing for a moment before she speaks.

“I really like this idea of Kin and a Sept Liasons. It’s thinking outside the box, which is something our people don’t do often enough. And it’s my job…the job of all of my Auspice…to encourage thinking outside of the box, finding new ways to make the war work. This is exactly one of those things, so I’m a fan.”

“As to who…I’ve heard great things about Imogen. I have absolutely no doubt that they’re true. But I don’t know her. I’ve never met her, or seen her around the Brotherhood during my admittedly short time here. That’s not saying she’s negligent, and certainly I’m not here all the time. But we have a lot of kin that come in and out of here. Even the amount of time I’ve been here, I’ve seen a lot come and go. We need someone who’s regularly in contact with the kin and has their ear to the ground, and has ideas. Maybe not always the best of ideas, but that’s part of why they’ll be working with others, Garou AND Kin. Getting the right ideas pushed forward, and the well-meaning but not well thought-out ones squashed. Which, to be honest, seems to be what’s been happening.”

She twirls the magic 8-Ball like a basketball for a moment, staring at it, then looks up. “Amunet’s done the legwork. She’s got her ear to the ground, and she’s got the drive. She’s got the right ideas, even if some of the wrong are there too sometimes, and she’s willing to listen and hear other people’s opinions, take them into account, and learn from what hasn’t worked to make the right things work better. I think she’s the right person for the job.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[spins on her finger. Y’know, Harlem Globetrotter style. Since “twirls” don’t make no sense. :P]]

[Joey] [Dibs!]

[Danicka Musil] [Dibs, as well.]

[Balance Without Fault] [joey –> danicka]

[Joey] Joey holds out her hands for the magic eight ball, catches it easily if it gets tossed her way. Before she speaks, she grins at her auspicemate, would tip her hat if she were wearing one.

“My associate raises some good points. As for stickin’ around, Imogen’s a rock. She’s been here since long before I got here, an’ I’m pretty sure she’ll still be standing’ when the world’s finally fallin’ to pieces. That said,” she tosses the eight ball from one hand to the other, “Sarita’s right. She’d be a good candidate an’ all, but she’s not here. She’s out there, helpin’ clean up after our messes, but still.

“So how ’bout someone who is?” Holding the magic eight ball with one hand, once again she uses it to point, this time to the Shadow Lord kinswoman by Lukas’ side. “I suggest Danicka. She’s been around a long while, an’ though I don’t know ‘er much beyond her reputation, she’s always been nice an’ respectful.” When it seems the woman in question would like the ball next, Joey doesn’t toss it directly to her. Remembering the earlier incident, she instead lobs it underhand to Lukas.

[Joey] [oh god random apostrophe should make that “standin'” please don’t mistake her for Hunter!]

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas catches the eightball and, since he has it anyway, speaks up.

“I second that,” he says, “and not because she’s my mate. Because she’s spoken sense every time she opened her mouth. Because she’s respected by the spirits, and pays them respects in return. And because a year ago she did the legwork and set up a coalition before handing it over to the leadership of another kin — who promptly disappeared.

“She’s proved herself. If she wants the job,” and he looks at Danicka for a moment here, considering, “I’d listen to her.”

He passes it over to her.

[Matthieu] [I need to AFK a little bit hopefully Matt isn’t needed for the next half hour!]

[Balance Without Fault] [see you in a bit dude!]

[Joey] [it’s so weird seeing “dude” next to BWF’s name]

[Jackson Montgomery] [[‘Homey’ would have been even better.]]

[Honor’s Compass] [CAN KATE SPEAK. …oops, capsrage.]

[Balance Without Fault] [danicka’s got it, unless kate wants to snatch it out of her hands!]

[Honor’s Compass] [*steeples fingers* …okay, not really. But Kate does want to add something.]

[Nash] [Rage, rage against the locking of the caps.]

[Balance Without Fault] [Fencing Fox just IMed me to check on the proceedings. She wants to say Daoi would have been present, but she has to go to work, and wanted to second either Imogen or Danicka. Also, she is vehemently against Amunet, Neda, Carter and Mickey. So. Consider her NPCed!]

[Joey] [Do not go gentle into that good caps?]

[Danicka Musil] When she initially held up her hand to signal that she’d like the 8-ball to be passed to her when it was her turn, Joey had not spoken yet. And Danicka had opinions on both Amunet and Imogen. The truth is, what she has to say about one was touched on — but not expounded on — by Hunter. What she had to say about Imogen has been said twice now.

And then Lukas joins in, because Joey the athlete decided not to hurl a hard plastic ball at Danicka’s head, and Danicka turns her head to look at the Ahroun Elder. Those who can see past the curtain of her hair over her cheek can see quite plainly that it is, in fact, a Look.

By the time the Magic 8-Ball that is representing the right to speak uninterrupted in this gathering comes into her hands, Danicka’s had to completely reform what she wants to say. Nice and respectful, the Rotagar calls her. The Rotagar who wasn’t here when she lied, smiling, to the face of the woman who is now the Philodox Elder and an Adren. The Rotagar wasn’t here when Danicka whipped around and reamed out a Modi in public

then promptly left town, lest he come after her. Eeek.

Danicka takes a breath. “I think Dr. Slaughter, if she’s willing to do a job she doesn’t yet know exists, would be a more than adequate choice. She’s abrasive at best, but she’s also proven herself more than any other Kin in the city. She would be capable, if not sentimental. One of the first times I met her, she turned and fired on Spirals so that the rest of us could run. As cold as she can be, it would be wrong to suggest that she hasn’t proven herself willing to fight and die for all of us. As dismissive as she can be, and absence tonight notwithstanding, she holds more respect in the eyes of Garou than anyone else.”

A pause. She does not address Amunet as a candidate — either what she wants to say has already been said, or does not need to be said. “As for my own nomination, I’m flattered.” A beat. She knew easily what she had to say about Imogen. It is not, however, easy for Danicka to talk about herself. Not with this many people, and so many of them Garou, listening. Not with her own reputation — and, frankly, Lukas’s — affected by what comes out of her mouth. She takes another deep breath. “I suppose I accept. I would be honored to do my best, if chosen.”

Chosen, she says. Not elected. Her eyes are on Balance Without Fault, but only meeting his for a moment before — ever so respectfully — dropping to his cheekbone instead. She offers the ball out to someone who can hand it to Katherine, who has lifted her hand. Danicka does not lob anything, thank you.

[Honor’s Compass] Perhaps in times gone past, Lukas might tense to see his pack-mate; her pale eyes firmly fixed on his mate request permission from the Grand Elder to address their peers and other Kinfolk alike. Perhaps he’d clench his teeth in desperate hopes she was not about to open her mouth and opine about — well, who ever knew — but while the Silver Fang Elder studies the Shadow Lord Kinfolk nominated alongside a Fianna Kinswoman absent tonight — she does not do so with apparent glorying malice.

Rather, there’s a certain amount of quiet reflection to be had, in all honesty.

“While I respect Doctor Slaughter’s capacities a great deal, I find that I do not believe, knowing her only, I admit, as passingly as I do, that she would willingly take up this position. Imogen Slaughter does not particularly revel in long periods of association around our kind.

My feeling is she endures such, as often as she may foster relationships with some.” Here Katherine’s eyes tick to Kora.

“So it would be my vote to elect Danicka Musil, and add that while she has suffered — setbacks, tonight — and needs to be more controlled in expressing her opinion, Amunet should not be ignored for this, either. She has put in considerable time and effort, and the last thing this Sept needs or wants are Kinfolk who, feeling excluded or resentful, get themselves into trouble.

Work together, please. I have seen too many Kinfolk of my tribe and without who wind up lost, gone or simply dead.

I do not wish to witness it again.”

[Balance Without Fault] [any more dibbers? i’m gonna start typing.]

[Balance Without Fault] The magic eightball makes it way around the room, sometimes passed, sometimes tossed. Eventually it comes back to Balance Without Fault, who catches it with a sort of ease that suggests once upon a time he might’ve played ball for his highschool.

Once he has it, he turns it over in his hands for a moment. Then he looks at the kin who have, by and large, stood so silent thus far.

“This is your representative I’m choosing. Any thoughts?”

[Balance Without Fault] [i’ma give people a couple min to call dibs, and then we’re rollin’ on.]

[Derek Anderson] Derek watched and listened, silent. He didn’t say anything or reacted to any of the nominated canditates. Whoever they chose was fine by him. After all, he doesn’t need much and if something come up, well he could always reach Katherine. He was sad for those whom the old ways weren’t working but it was for him.

So why change something that isn’t broken? No reason. He was just there as a witness, because all kin were asked to come. And he stayed in the main area for it was disrecpectful to go awya in the kitchen while business that touched everyone was discussed.

He hasn’said anything but he had been there and won’t be able to complain later if things turn out badly.

[Jackson Montgomery] Jackson looks up. “Since this is my chance to speak up…I would choose Amy. I only vaguely know Danicka, no offenser. I’ve been working with Amy, and so have others who weren’t able to make it here. And I believe that someone who is involved with the current make-up should be doing it.”

Not very wordy, but it gets his point across.

[Nash] [Thanks for the scene, all! I’m told I have to go partake in a threeway or something, idk.]

[Quinn] [I’m sorry, guys, I can’t stay up any longer, I have to be up for work in a ridiculously small amount of time. Both of my PCs would stick it out until the end, and then disappear into the night. Good night!]

[Balance Without Fault] Balance lets that silence hang, his eyes moving from kin to kin, all around the room. It stretches on. It gets a little uncomfortable. It gets a lot uncomfortable. Then the Grand Elder puts the eightball down on the arm of his chair again. Stands.

“I have,” he says, “the utmost respect for Imogen Slaughter. She very nearly has the renown of a Cliath Ahroun — and it’s no secret that the spirits do not pay attention to our kin as they do our Garou. To gather such a reputation under such odds is no small accomplishment, wolves and kin of the Maelstrom, and she is to be respected.

“However,” he turns directly to Hunter and Kora, “it must also be said that Dr. Imogen Slaughter, while faultlessly dedicated and loyal to our cause, has never been one to involve herself too deeply in the Sept’s politics. Or, as far as I could tell, one who wanted to do so. She’s not here tonight because she’s out there doing what she does best — working for the cause in her own way, on her own time, without our interference. And that’s fine. The work she does justifies that. Her renown stands alone.

“Bear in mind that I’m not dictating the leader of the coalition tonight. That’s up to the kin, and that’s yet to be decided. If you want my opinion, Imogen Slaughter would be a very fine choice. However, this role we discuss tonight, the role she’s been nominated for, is one of mediation, of elbow-rubbing, of talking, of listening, of liaising. And I agree with Sarita, and with the Philodox and Ragabash Elders. She may not be suited to this. She may not even want it. She’s not here to decide for herself, and I won’t pin this title on her in her absence.

“On the other hand, Danicka Musil’s name carries weight in this Sept. She is known for her wisdom, and for glory. She’s tried before to organize the kin, and she’s proven her ability tonight to speak calmly, and with sense, even in the face of controversy and dissent. I agree with the Auspice Elders who have spoken. She deserves this role, and I trust her with it.

“If you accept this duty, Danicka, it’s yours.”

A pause. Then he turns to the final contender.

“And that leaves Amunet Knezevic. Amunet, I agree with your sister, Sarita, and your friend, Jackson, when they say your heart is in the right place. You want this position, I can see it. You want to do well.

“I can’t ignore that you’ve caused no small amount of controversy tonight; that some of your ideas were flawed, and others were borderline insane. I can’t trust you to speak alone for the kin. Not when one kin has spoken vehemently against you; not when, at times tonight, you had trouble explaining your own actions. I’m sorry.

“But the Philodox Elder speaks with wisdom: we should reward those who try hardest. We are not,” a wry nod to the Shadow Lord contingent, “a Shadow Lord Sept, that counts everything by results alone. We do not disregard heartfelt attempts, no matter how futile. After all, it might be argued our entire war is one heroic, futile attempt.

“So here’s what I’ll do. While Danicka Musil is the Sept Liaison — if she’s willing, and if you’re willing — you may serve as her assistant. You may appear where she does, attend what meetings she attends. You can listen, and learn. In time, if your elders feel it appropriate, you may be given duties and responsibilities of your own interfacing between Garou and Kin.

“Will you accept this duty?”

[Amunet Knezevic] She waits. There isn’t anything to be said, after all, until Danicka has her say.

[Danicka Musil] A deep breath is taken before Danicka answers, and she is not surprised Amunet does not want to speak til she has. There’s no need to wait for the Magic 8-Ball this time; it’s done being passed around. She’s sitting up straight on the barstool she chose at the start of all this, and nods. “I would be honored,” she says, which is only what she said before. But this does confirm it: she’s willing.

“I would be glad to work with either Dr. Slaughter or Amunet, whoever leads the coalition Amunet’s reforming, as a colleague who will help me know what issues the Kinfolk need communicated to the Sept. I would also be more than happy to have Amunet as an… assistant, if she is amenable to it.” There’s a pause, and then she turns her head slightly, looking at Amunet. “But before you answer, I do want you to understand one thing very clearly. If you decided you wanted to assist me, I would need you to not only help me, but trust me.” A beat. She stops mincing words. “And frankly, obey me. Not as an automaton, not without a voice, not without respectful discussion, but ultimately, as a subordinate. If you don’t believe you are willing to place yourself in that position, then …be my colleague only as a member of, or leader of, the coalition.”

[Amunet Knezevic] He would be so disappointed in you right now…

She nods once then smiles, directing her reply to BWF and sounding a little too much like her Shadow Lord mate in her perfectly enunciated reply. “I will of course serve the Nation in any fashion that you see fit, Rhya. Thank you for the opportunity.”

[Starla] Starla’s still there…. despite someone going to bed, this is still happening. It ain’t a dream. She blinks, looks at the proceedings that have somehow woken her up in the chair and sits and stares at all of them. The corners of her mouth twisting and flattening suddenly.

[Balance Without Fault] Balance shakes his head quietly. “It’s not an order, Amunet. It’s a duty that you can take up or lay down as you wish. If you want it — if you can live with what Danicka just said, and with the boundaries I’ve delineated — then it’s yours.

“Otherwise, you may reject it without dishonor.”

[Amunet Knezevic] Her eyes flicker to Danicka, then back. “I feel as if I should at the very least make sure that Miss Musil is up to speed on what’s being worked currently. Perhaps we should revisit the question of my continuing role once the preliminary details have been addressed.”

[Danicka Musil] Her brows draw together, her forehead wrinkled in a vague look of confusion, but Danicka doesn’t interrupt.

[Balance Without Fault] “As you wish. If you want the role, let Danicka know. Otherwise, I hope you do continue the work you’ve begun — albeit in a more moderated manner.

“Now then. Let’s wrap up.

“Matthieu Mirror’s Whisper, you are our Kin Liaison. I suggest you make use of your Galliard talent to announce this far and wide. Danicka Musil, you are our Sept Liaison. I’d suggest getting in touch with your fellow kin to spread the word.

“Together, the two of you are responsible for maintaining an open line of communication between Garou and kin, for keeping one another up to speed on the developments on both sides, and for being the first point of mediation in conflicts between Garou and kin. You should interact with individual Tribal Alphas, with the Philodox Alpha, with individual kin, and with each other. In dire circumstances, you may come before me, but it’s my hope that you’ll be able to settle most issues independently, or with the assistance of your Septmates.

“Furthermore, Matthieu, you’re responsible for attending kin coalition meetings as a listener and as a voice for the Garou. Danicka, you will be present at the Cracking of the Bone as a witness and, if necessary, as a voice for the kin. Your mate will stake his honor on your conduct and safety.

“I suggest the two of you meet with each other soon after this meeting and better delineate your working relationship. Here’s hoping it’ll be a long one.”

Addressing the gathered, then:

“If there’s nothing else, wolves and kin of the Maelstrom, thank you for coming. I think we’ve taken significant steps forward tonight, and I’m looking forward to seeing how this kin coalition pans out. There’s still food in the kitchen, if you want to take some home — otherwise, I’ll bid you a good night.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Sarita stands and looks at the Galliard Elder. “Before you go, Matthieu…we need to talk.” The look she fixes on him is a direct one. It’s not angry, but there is something a bit…intense in it. “Just give me a moment.”

She makes her way over to Amy, reaching out to touch the other’s shoulder. “Hey…”

[Amunet Knezevic] “Hey” She smiles brightly, leaning to give Sarita a quick hug. “Thank you. That was very nice of you.”

[Balance Without Fault] [hey guys, i’m bowing BWF out. thanks to everyone who stayed for the whole, 9-hour shebang! @_@ that was a lot of fun and pretty intense at times, but overall reminded me why i don’t do the moots live *LOL*]

[Jackson Montgomery] Jackson waits until it looks like they’re getting ready to go, and he looks up. He nods to the Trueborn around and moves to head out with his fellow Gaian kin.

[[Thanks Damon!]]

[Kyle] He’s been quiet the entire time. Not that he’d have been heard clearly but he really didn’t have much to say. Casually he stands and while he walks stretches out a kink from his back. Stops near Amunet and gives that casual smile but the concern in his eyes is obvious.
“You doing ok?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh, shut the fuck up.” She grins a bit, leaning into the hug. “It wasn’t nice, it was the truth.” She leans in, murmuring in Spanish.

[Matthieu] Matthieu listens quietly and nods his head.”I should like to speak to both Danicka and Amunet as soon as that much can be arranged. I look forward to seeing the direction this will head.”

[Leon Davenport] Leon looked at Sarita when he spoke top his Alha and he grinned. He had a good idea what the Strider want to talk to him about. Well, he didn’t care. There was nothing there and if hse pressed the issue, he hope Matthieu would tell her to be reasonable.

He doubted she would. “Have a good night Matthieu” he say to the Galliard and start to move away, unless his Alpha wnat him around for his talk with the Strider

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] ~sp~ “You made me very proud tonight. Don’t you dare let yourself think anything differently. I love you.”
to Amunet Knezevic

[Hunter] [Hunter bailed for the kitchen awhile ago! I’m bailing now too, cya later all thanks for the scene.. or saga.. I don’t think scene does it justice.]

[Amunet Knezevic] “I’m fine, Kyle. Thank you. It’s good to see you again.” The smile doesn’t so much as flicker, turned from Kyle back to Sarita as she nods in response to whatever was said to her.

[Derek Anderson] The meeting was over, he needed to get home. He texted Kristen, asking her if she felt like joining him at his place. He bid farewell to Lukas and Katherine, as well as Danicka since she was beside the Shadow Lord Adren “Congatulation”he tell her

Sarita and Amy gets both a nod and he heads out

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She sighs a bit, looking concerned. She gives Amy a hug once more. “I need to talk to Matthieu. Let’s do something in the next day or two, okay?”

[Prayers to Broken Stone] [Thanks all! If nobody needs my PCs, I’ma say they both wander out. :)]

[Amunet Knezevic] “Of course. Come by the condo.” She hugs her sister, then lets her go and moves toward Stefan as he emerges from upstairs.

[Danicka Musil] Danicka nods, rather simply, to Balance Without Fault, a gesture of respect and perhaps gratitude, though not for the position so much as the trust it implies. When he closes the meeting, she slides off of her barstool and walks over to Matthieu before people can stir up and depart too quickly.

She takes a small pad of paper out of her bag and writes down her number, handing it over to him. “You can call me whenever you need to. Weekends and evenings are best, due to classes, but I’ll make myself available to your schedule.”

To Amunet, when she makes her way over there, she gives a small smile. “If you change your mind, let me know. But you have my contact information. It’s now literally my job to make sure you and the rest of the coalition are involved, informed, and heard. So don’t hesitate.”

Making sure the Tribal Alphas and other Kin know how to get in touch with her and even know who she is will wait another day, though, it seems. Danicka moves back towards Lukas and, catching Katherine’s eye briefly as she does so, gives the other woman a small smile, perhaps coming with a little more difficulty than the one she gave to Amunet. A small nod. The meaning there is even harder to read than the Look she gave Lukas earlier.

Katherine will understand, though. They haven’t always had the best and brightest relationship, these two.

She leans over to Lukas then and exhales as she gathers up her coat, saying something quietly to him.

[Matthieu] He stands slowly and nods his head back to Sarita. His attention on her before he looks to the others.”Let’s go speak away from prying ears then shall we?”He asks her as he begins to lead her in the direction of the Kitchen.

[Kyle] “You’re busy. I’ll catch you around the tracks I guess.”
Looks to both Sarita and Amunet as he casually makes his way for the kitchen to grab a snack and head up stairs.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She nods to Matthieu once Amy is gone, looking to him. “Sounds good.” He moves to follow along behind him.

[Matthieu] He walks with her into the other room and offers u a little smile.”What seems to be the problem here?”
to Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Wyrmbreaker] The gathering is breaking up; Lukas catches Sarita’s eye as she moves off with Matthieu. The look is — complex. Some touch of compassion; some hint of apology; mostly, though, just a sort of recognition and acknowledgment. Of their relationships, perhaps. To each other. To their kin.

Then he’s turning, bending to hear what Danicka is saying while he reaches for his own coat.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “The problem is simple.” She’s angry now. She’s letting herself show it. Not raging…she does not not even have the capacity to frenzy, except in odd situations. Not even furious. But she’s angry. “Why is one of my tribe’s kin playing footsie with Leon’s knee?”
to Matthieu

[Wyrmbreaker] Whatever it is she says, Lukas laughs quietly; murmurs something back, then takes her coat from her and holds it while she slides into it.

Then he’s lifting his own, sliding it over his shoulders. The gathering has dissipated; he nods to the few that remain as he departs with his mate.

[Danicka Musil] [Thank you guys — those of you still in the room! For the RP. :] I honestly had a blast.]

[Matthieu] “Miss McCalister and I are old friends… She and I are close. I cannot say why she and Leon might have been playing footsies though I do know they have had a short dialogue once or twice. He confessed this to me himself… In fact he’s been quite responsible even going so far is to get my permission simply to associate with other kin.”He smiles a little.”I don’t see the harm, I would not let my beta harm a single hair on your Kin’s head. He’s been careful not to cross any distinct boundaries. She and Leon, as I understand, are little more than passing friends.”He looks up at her.”If anything I suspect it was me Gina was visiting Leon happening to be by my side was simply a matter of fate. He is my Beta, as a result I would not let him do anything to break our agreement.”He says back to her.

“However I understood that it was only your Sister whom Leon was allowed not contact at all and required to keep a distance from. Leon has been doing quite well to tell me who he has talked to and his reasons for doing so and I assure you he is not up to no good with your kin.”He says with a reassuring little smile.
to Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Wyrmbreaker] [i’m out too! thanks again, folks! i had fun too :] ]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I know you’re close, Matthieu. Gina’s alluded to a Silver Fang who wanted to take her on as a mate. I can do the math, it’s either you, Kate or Ivan and she’s not Kate’s type. So I’m guessing I’m on the right side of the 50/50 odds here. And I don’t have a problem with that. Gina, Amy, Kyle…they can hang out with whoever they want, they can–and I’m not implying here–date and sleep with whoever they want. I’m okay with that. But sometimes, I have to step in. Because I wouldn’t be doing my job as tribal elder if not.”

She frowns. “I want to be clear here. I bet he’s doing a wonderful job of not assaulting kinfolk. Faboo. But until someone challenges me to claim her, she’s my responsibility, and let me be perfectly clear…she is not to be anywhere near Leon. Period point-blank. And if you won’t stop it, I will tell her so myself, which will force me to tell her why.”
to Matthieu

[Matthieu] He smiles just a Hint though he says nothing in regard to whether or not she might be correct in his guess.”Gina is my friend… We’ve been friends since before I met either of you, and I would imagine we always will. It seems like a near impossibility for me to keep Leon and Gina from, themselves, coming into contact. I can ask Leon to obey this but Gina is a social creature and likely to seek him out. It seems like I would be attempting to do the impossible here by only informing one side that the other is not allowed to see them. Still if you are going to be insistent on the matter I can attempt to speak to him and hopefully the matter can be resolved until such point as you change your mind.”He then continues.

“I should also mention a matter of some concern for me. It would appear that the Alpha of Defiance has caught wind of this little matter and he has set out upon a smear campaign against my Beta in relation to other kin.”He says before peeking up at her.”I would like that if this matter is to be buried it be buried… Having the Alphas of other packs walking around carrying judges does not put this matter behind us. It goes, both, against the spirit of our agreement and shows a lack of Honor on the part of another Garou. This matter ended with our arrangement and other Garou have no place involving themselves to any degree.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I agree with that. And I will try to talk to Hunter. As I told you in our initial talk, he knew before that point. I can’t make people un-know something. He hates Leon. Frankly, I kind of do, too, but not the point. I will talk to him and see what I can do. You talk to Leon and see what you can do. Hopefully we’ll both be successful.”

She frowns. “She doesn’t think so, but I like Gina. I care about her, and I worry about her. If she would let me in, she’d see that. But I get it. Just…” She shakes her head, frowning and looking away. “Take care of her, please. I know you will, but I have to say it.”

[Matthieu] “I am going to give you my honest opinion here and I know you are not going to like it but I must give it anyway. I feel that you are not willing to leave this matter behind… I hear in your voice a bitter deep seeded hatred for my pack mate for which you will never forgive him.”He shrugs his shoulders.

“I was not there to pass judgement on what he did to your sister but when we challenge or another suffers punishment in response to his or her crimes we leave the matter alone. When the challenge is settled the challengers leave the ring and their grudges behind them.”

“Neither you nor Burnout appears willing to do this. I have asked my Packmate on my honor to accept a deal which I felt was in the best interest of all involved. He has trusted me and done well to show by example that he is following through with his punishment. He is taking the high road and walking away with his punishment with his head held high. Where as you continue to brood and hold him in neglect for a matter which should no longer be a concern.”

He stops walking and turns to face her.”What you are doing here is not in Gina’s best interest. What you are doing here is attempting to use what power you have to hurt my Packmate to do just that. I do not like it, and I do not care for it one bit… But you are the eldest of your tribe and so long as you continue to be I will respect your wishes. This matter cannot be resolved until everyone involved lets go and stops holding a grudge. This is not honor it is vengeance and it’s only going to hurt everyone who is involved if it continues along this path.”

“If you want my advice, and you might not, what you need to do is let this matter go. This kind of thing happens in our society on a regular basis. Continuing to holda lapse in judgment against my Beta harms everyone it affects. It will breed his mistrust and dislike for you and it will continue to breed your own dislike and mistrust for him. In the meantime Gina is caught in the middle and Burnout simply has no place in the matter in the first place. Still it is not my place to decide. I will tell my Beta that he is to have no contact with Gina whatsoever and I will work to keep them from maintaining any degree of contact.”

“If that is all? I will be on my way.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “No, I’m not Matthieu. I’m doing it because even if you trust him, I don’t. Did you know that a kinfolk of his sat for like, two days before she got cleansed after being attacked by a Wyrm thing?”

She frowns and shakes her head. “Think I’m doing it for whatever reason you like. You can dislike me for it, Leon and Gina can hate me. It’s no skin off my fine ass. Leon made it clear that after our agreement? Yours and mine? His hatred of me was sealed in stone. He refuses to get over it. I don’t care about him as long as he’s not in direct danger of my kinfolk. If I wanted to harm him, I have ways, and you know I do.”

A pause. “Also, just to make sure…you said you would be asking Kate about giving him training under a Philodox. How’s that going?”

[Matthieu] “That is a failing of the society in which we live and not necessarily a matter that speaks ill of his character.”He then nodded his head.”My Beta feels betrayed… He feels the matter had been resolved and that it was not until much later that the matter was brought back up. Indeed if you and Leon had an arrangement, and I believe you might have, then it was a somewhat dishonorable manner to approach his Alpha later on in an attempt to see him punished again twice for the same crime. Now… he is being punished a third time by asking that he have no contact with a friend of his.”He says back to her.”That would make three times you have punished him for the same crime. I am not a Half Moon but I do not need to be a half moon to see the unbalance in this matter.”

“I belong to a house who has long prided itself on fairness and honor. I do not feel that my Beta is being given a fair shake in this matter. We are, however, and honorable pack and Leon will do as you command. You are Gina’s tribal elder and you have every right to ban them from contacting one another.”He then nods his head and smiles.”I will address that matter just as soon as I can catch her while she is free. In the meantime we are sizing up a few qualified candidates.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “We had no agreement. He threw two grand in my metaphorical face and said he’d leave her alone. I never told him we were all good after that. I’ll make that clear. And I don’t consider Gina being kept from him to be a punishment for him. I consider it looking out for my kinfolk’s welfare. When I’m satisfied that he’s been through his anger management training, then it’s all good. Until then, I’m sorry but I still don’t trust him because he hasn’t had the opportunity to improve himself.”

A little nod. “Let me know when you have. I’ll pass along the message that you’d like to talk to her if you like. I won’t say why; I’ll let you handle that. Other than that…yes, we’re done.”

[Matthieu] He nods his head.”Alright then if you could convey the message it would be helpful. She’s a very busy woman these days.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Will do. Have a good one, Matthieu.” A nod, and she makes her way out.

While Amy Pisses Off a Cop and Just Gets Pissed, Sarita Finds Her Quarry

[Amunet Trujillo] (Scene in a random trashy bar okay with you guys? Or is that not something that Izzy would be in?)

[Izzy Montoya] (*L* she lives in random trashy bars. ­čÖé )

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Trashy bar is ALWAYS good for Sarita. :D]]

[Amunet Trujillo] (Woo!)

“Get your fucking hand OFF of my ass, or you’re going to lose it!” The dark haired Kin shouts the threat to be heard over the music, and it’s accompanied by the ‘Please, PLEASE fuck with me’ expression that Sarita has come to know well.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She grins widely, stabbing through a french fry with a toothpick as Amy bitches some poor sap out. “You’re way too nice, you know? Giving warning an’ all that shit. Most people our kind, they just take the hand as a fuckin’ trophy.” The duster is back on today, though her top and pants are the same ones from last night; the tank top white with “Destination: Grassy Knoll” printed on it where the ‘o’ is a set of crosshairs.

[Izzy Montoya] One of the less savory parts of investigation involves trying to get answers out of folks that do not want to get involved. It’s not their business, their place; they worry that to say anything makes them suspect, they fear the law, they fear she’ll see more than they want her too, they worry that she’ll shut them down, figure out that they’re skimming the till, scamming the patrons, dealing drugs out the back door, beating their girlfriend. It’s not easy, is the point, and most think it’s not fun.

Izzy lives for this shit.

Someone, someone yells at another person to remove their hand or lose it, and Izzy is leaned against the bar, leaning toward the current tender – who hates the Sunday afternoon shift more than life itself. Loud music beating on Saturday hangovers and people still trying to put their hands where they don’t belong, and the tips are shit, as they already gave it all away in the wee hours of the morning. There’s a photo on the counter in front of him, and she points to it.

“Focus. When?” Her attention is on him, seemingly on him alone. But she misses very little of what’s going on around her just the same.

[Amunet Trujillo] There’s another yell a few seconds later. This one comes from the man, when his fingers are suddenly yanked back and snapped. Oops.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She snorts in amusement, reaching out with a long leg and shoving the guy, now cradling his fingers in pain, back. “Shoulda taken the warning, dick cheese. Run along and be happy you still got fingers left period.”

[Amunet Trujillo] He considers doing something about it, but then just slinks away cradling his broken fingers in his other hand. Amy looks pleased with herself, slapping another ten on the bar and signaling for two more shots. “Hey! Sugar! We’re dying down here. Flirt and pour at the same time.”

Either she’s unaware that he’s being questioned by a cop, or just doesn’t care.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “You know,” she says conversationally, lighting up a cigarette. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you stuck said ass out a little, just to invite people to get a hold. Some would call that entrapment.”

[Izzy Montoya] The tender looks down, and mumbles something. Izzy nods, and with barely a glance down the way at the ruckus, until they summon the guy she’s talking too. Izzy doesn’t bother looking, just holds up her badge. “You’ll continue to die until I’m finished, or I’ll have to look into assault charges.”

Everything about Izzy screams cop, from the way she stands to the way she talks, even to the way she dresses – business casual, slacks, tailored blouse, subdued and functional. Not to mention the bulge at the small of her back under the leather jacket.

For Sarita, it also screams something else: Fenrir. The blood that flows through her is ripe with history of warriors and heroes that show no mercy and kick copious amounts of ass.

To the tender again, she asks another question, this time while picking up the photo and tucking it back into the inside pocket of her jacket. He speaks, she nods, then tosses a couple of bills on the table. “Whiskey. Neat. Keep the change.”

Well paid for his information, he serves her, first.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Some can go fuck themselves” She grins at Sarita, then loks to the bartender again. “Who do I have to fuck to get a drink?”

[Izzy Montoya] She picks up her drink, and salutes Amunet with it. “Me, apparently.” Then, with a smirk, she lifts her glass to her lips, taking a healthy swallow or two.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Well then haul it over here!” She laughs, waving the ten at the bartender.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks down the bar at Izzy, brow furrowing as she tries to place her from somewhere. She’s seen her once or twice before, she’s sure of it…she’s just not sure WHERE. There was a fair amount that went on last night after all, and her focus wasn’t on Izzy. her head does tilt to the side though, and she smiles, nodding to the Fenrir.

“You know…you’d think I would be able to remember a face. I used to be good at that…”

[Izzy Montoya] “In your dreams.”

She settles to the seat where she’s at, pulls out her phone, scrolling through the messages there with the practiced ease of someone firmly connected to her job via mobile devise. If she’s aware that she’s being studied, it doesn’t seem to bother her. Or she’s choosing to ignore it. For now.

[Amunet Trujillo] “I thought you didn’t go for skinny bitches, sis.” She nudges Sarita as the woman studies the Fenrir kin.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I don’t go for bitches period, remember? Straight and narrow here. Now behave, you.” It’s good-natured, not a serious order and more of a tease. Sarita doesn’t order her sister around, at least when frivolity comes into play. They’re perfectly capable of being equally frivolous, and Sarita would never deny Amy that. “I know her from somewhere. And she’s extended fam.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Oh.” She twists around to study the other Kin.

[Izzy Montoya] “Hey!” Fortunately it’s the tender she’s signaling again. “Gimme a phone book, and when you deliver those – tell them to take a fuckin’ picture, will ya? Lasts longer.”

He smirks, slaps the phone book down in front of her, before heading down to the sisters to serve them and pass on the message they could hear perfectly well themselves.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She chuckles when the message is relayed, taking her shot and moving down the bar a little so she’s within closer-than-shouting distance to Izzy. “Problem is, I prefer moving pictures. And since a video camera won’t film itself…well, I might as well be here without the easily stolen and pawned-item.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “You can set them up to film by themselves, though. Remember that guy in Phoenix with the…” She lets it trail off, moving along with Sarita and nodding at Izzy. “Hey.”

[Izzy Montoya] She hears the part about stolen and pawned items, and comments dryly.

“Missed the fuckin’ badge, did ya?” It’s said with a smirk, though she doesn’t look up from the phone book she’s thumbing through.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hey, I wouldn’t be the stealer and pawner in this case. I’d be the victim.” She takes a lean on the bar next to Izzy at this point. “So maybe I got a crime to report.” There’s a definite humor in her tone. She’s kidding. Probably. Or she finds it hilarious that she’s been stolen from.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Should report those fucking pants she’s wearing to the fucking Fashion Police.” She takes her shot, slamming the empty glass back down on the bar.

[Izzy Montoya] “Call 911. I’m Homicide.”

Helpful bitch, ain’t she? She finds the number she’s looking for, and keys it into her phone and hits save before she closes the phone book and slides it back across the bar.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She actually looks like she’s considering pretending to report a homicide, but even Sarita’s not quite that crazy. “Sounds like a fun job.”

[Izzy Montoya] She arches a brow, slightly, and turns to study Sarita for a long moment.

“Really.” It’s said dryly, without hint of humor. Her dark eyes show none, either, though she has the look of one who’s well used to keeping her thoughts to herself, without letting them be read through her gaze. “How so?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh, you know. Plenty of mysteries and puzzles to suss out. Bad guys to catch. Get to carry a gun and not be arrested for it.” She grins. “I imagine the fam’s proud of you, ay?”

[Izzy Montoya] “You watch too much TV.” As for the family, she smirks. “Doubtful, at best.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Why not? You’re useful, in a good position. All the shit your type is supposed to be, right?”

[Izzy Montoya] She arches a brow, slightly. “And what, exactly, is ‘my type’? A well trained dog is also useful, and presumably in a good position at least once in a while.” A beat. “Are you calling me a well-trained bitch?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I’m calling you relation. Kin, you might say. Whether or not you’re a well trained bitch isn’t any of my business.” She signals for drinks again, with a twenty this time. “Her too.”

[Izzy Montoya] Something tightens in her brow, around the corner of her mouth, before it clears away.

“You may call me Detective Montoya.” Not kin, the insinuation. It serves as much as an introduction as she’s going to give at the moment, as well.

[Casey Steward] Arguements, chatting, music and the general din of the bar mingles ever so briefly with the sound of the door opening. Fresh off the boat, or maybe the plane, or hell maybe the back of a pickup truck is the best way to describe the tall 6’2 fella who steps through the door. He looks fresh from the road, from somewhere not here, his leather jacket faded and dusty, his jeans faded and patchy.

He steps to the bar with a slow even pace and tosses the duffle in against the foot banister as he slides up onto a stool. “Dear god give me a beer.” He says to the bartender, his voice is tired, strained and very very thirsty.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hey, if it helps any, I call this one a poorly-trained bitch.” She nods her head to Amy with a smirk. “And I’m just a bitch, period.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “We can pretty much call you whatever the fuck we decide to call you, Sugartits. That’s how this works.”

[Izzy Montoya] “Not at all how it works. Nice try though.”

She stands, and slips her phone into her pocket, and turns to head toward the door.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She pauses, looking over her shoulder to Casey, and then back to Amy with a raised brow at her half-sister’s comment. “Hay que ser agradable…

[Casey Steward] His eyes linger on the bartender only long enough for the beer to reach his hand, and then sight is forsaken for a long, thirsty chug of alcohol, its barely even relished, barely tasted, the man just needed to get the thing in his system and then he’d take the time to feel the ground under his feet.

The drink set down, now nearly half empty the blue eyes beneath his short blonde hair takes a moment to survey his surroundings, his eyes falling first and foremost on the three woman down the bar who were chatting, bickering, or maybe getting ready to brawl.

He listens to Sarita speak as well, and for a moment it seems like he might very well understand her, but if he does, he gives no further sign of it as he picks up that beer and takes another drink.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Estoy siempre es agradable.” Her eyes follow Casey as he picks the beer up and drinks.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Dar ├│rdenes no es ser amable.” She moves to follow after Izzy. “Detective. Hold up.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Ella empez├│.” She doesn’t move from her spot, attention divided between Sarita and Casey now..

[Izzy Montoya] She smirks, slightly, as they resort to another language to her back. She shakes her head, and mutters to herself as she dials the phone and lifts it to her ear.

Only to be told to wait. She lifts her free hand to press her thumb and forefinger on either side of the bridge of her nose, and to whomever has answered the phone. “Montoya. Hang on.”

Then she turns, the phone against her should. She arches a brow, slightly.

[Casey Steward] Casey watches with mild amusement as Izzy heads for the door. His tired eyes ever so briefly meeting the anger in her’s before a small tired chuckle issues from his lips. He takes a moment then, a long moment to wipe his mouth with the back of his sleeve before looking back down the bar to the other two and shakes his head.

When Sarita tries to stop her…its an honest moment of surprise for the man and hooded eyes open slightly wider before he looks at Sarita. “You know its usually not wise to play with the rattlesnake once it’s started to rattle.” He says in an unconcerned voice, a slight smirk registering on his lips.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Forgive my sister. She sometimes forgets her manners. Or what manners are. And sometimes, how to eat with utensils.” She smiles a bit. “Wasn’t trying to chuck any weight around or anything like that, okay? No harm, no foul. Cool?”

[Izzy Montoya] “I don’t believe in forgiveness, nor will I forget it. I, however, have no intention of alerting the Jarl that you cannot keep your kin in line. It is not my place, nor do I give a fuck. I simply have better things to do with my time than shoot every foul mouthed little bitch who forgets she has manners.”

A beat. And a smirk. “Besides – it’d be a waste of bullets. She has the look of one that won’t learn shit anyway.”

[Casey Steward] Casey turns, and with a sigh leans back against the bar and crosses his legs watching the moment unfold….sure as hell wasn’t his place to interfere.

[Amunet Trujillo] More of her attention turns to Casey now, as Sarita explains to yet another person that Amy can’t behave in public, blah blah blah.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Her expresions takes on a heightened look of amusement. “In all honestly, I don’t give a rat’s hot patootie, bless my soul, et cetera who you were planning on informing. I was talking to you as a person, since I figured you deserved the respect of that. This was me playing nice and trying to treat you like a person, and you kinda throwin’ it back in my face. No offense, but that’s kind of a shitty thing to do, y’know?”

[Casey Steward] The man’s head cants slowly and almost lazily to the side as he looks from Sarita, to Izzy and then finally in a long lazy swoop over towards Amunet that small smirk still upon his lips, not going anywhere, much like the man who owned it.

“Should I be moving further away?” He asks Amunet, a hand casually gesturing towards the pair before him. “I like front row seats, but I don’t like being labeled as collateral.”

[Izzy Montoya] It’s kind of a shitty thing to do. She actually chuckles. “Welcome to Chicago.”

And she lifts her phone to her ear, again and turns on her heel to start her way to the door again. “Finn – meet me at Roys. I don’t give a shit, 30 minutes, Roys.”

She turns off the phone and slips it into her pocket again.

[Amunet Trujillo] “I doubt either of them can fight for shit, so it’ll probably just be a lot of hair pulling and name calling.” She slides closer to him, half watching the discussion again.

[Casey Steward] “You’d have lost that bet.” He says Idly as he folds his hands across his stomach and watches Izzy turn to go. “Unless your friend is going to pull one out from behind.” He cracks his neck to one side and sighs as his gaze slowly travels over to Amunet once more.

“Casey.” His voice oh so casual as one hand comes up from his stomach to offer a shake.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Amy.” She offers her most charming smile and hand to shake, giving his a slight squeeze. “Sarita has a few tricks up her sleeve”

[Casey Steward] His smirk neither rises nor falls as she offers him a charming, and certainly appealing smile. Infact the man almost looks like hes ready for an afternoon siesta if anything. He returns the squeeze, his hands calloused and slightly rough before he rests his hand on his stomach once more.

“No tricks of your own?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] He hand goes up, the bird directed back at Amy without looking that way. Which, really, could probably be interpreted at aimed at Casey if her aim is bad. “Listen, I been to a lot of shithole places, Detective. And I’ve learned that it’s not the shithole that deserves the blame for being shitty. It’s those who makes it that way.” She shrugs. “You wanna take a single comment and never let it go, you feel free. But after this, we’ll both know that I tired to make it right, and it was you who decided to make a problem.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Oh, I’ve got a few.” She looks him over once more before turning her attention back to Sarita.

[Izzy Montoya] She waves over her shoulder as Sarita talks. “This is me walking away, which by definition ends the problem. Otherwise I’d have already shot her.” And with that, she slips out the door.

She might be joking.
Doubtful, but possible.

[Casey Steward] The finger, quite possibly aimed at Casey simply gets a brief lazy wave and an ever so slight chuckle as the man reaches around behind himself slowly to grab his beer. “Mmmm beer and a show.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She shakes her head and turns, coming back. “If she tries to shoot you Am, I don’t give a shit if she’s a cop or not. Shoot her ass back.”

[Casey Steward] Another tired laugh issues from the blonde after he licks some beer foam from his lips. “Sounds like a sound strategy, though the smarter strategy is always to shoot first.” It comes off like a moto, or a slogan, or it might have if the man didn’t seem so laid back he might be in a coma.

He then looks casually up at Sarita and cants his head over to the side once more. “You must make friends everywhere you go.”

[Bridget Geroux] [May I join?]
to Amunet Trujillo, Casey Steward, Izzy Montoya, Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Amunet Trujillo] “She’s a charmer, that’s for sure.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[I’m cool wit it!]]
to Amunet Trujillo, Bridget Geroux, Casey Steward, Izzy Montoya

[Casey Steward] “Oh the height of charm, I can just see the charm school training in her.” He says with a casual wave of his hand, gesturing in her direction that smirk never fading. His gaze slipping over to Amunet to give a barely noticeable wink.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She chuckles and shrugs. “Oh, I totally make friends. I made at least three of them last night.” She pauses. “Friends are people who threaten and-slash-or yell at you, right? I always get confused about that…”

[Amunet Trujillo] She laughs, head back for a minute, sliding just a touch closer to Casey in the process.

[Bridget Geroux] Heavens only know how Bridget gets around Chicago like she does with a low income and no car, but good goddamn, she does. This particular shitty bar happens to only be a few blocks from Legends, and their Very late night fiasco last night nearly turned into a full-scale brawl on several occasions. Maybe Sarita threw her a text a while ago and she’s only now getting here. Who knows?

Bridget enters this random shitty bar with a pair of highly reflective shades reminiscent of Jackie-O. She hasn’t changed since last night, but she has showered. The Fianna kin stumbles over the doorstep into the bar, wearing the same navy tee, black vest, dark-wash jeans, kitten heels, and studded leather jacket as the night before. An overstuffed canvas bag hangs from one shoulder. It looks heavy. The Canadian makes her way to the bar and immediately orders up the least shitty bottled lager they have available.

She spots Sarita and waves.

[Casey Steward] “Oh most certainly, the very best of friends are the one’s who use guns, so you and that lady are just bosom buddies.” He shakes his head, ever smirking as he picks up his beer and holds it up.

“To your new found friendship.” The sarcasm roiling of his tongue, even as he seems to be filled with good cheer, despite the sleepy nature of the man.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She grins at Casey, then looks over and notices Bridget. The kin gets a smile from her and a wave. “Hey, chica. How’d you wake up this morning?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “We could be friends.” She doesn’t even bother to hide her direct suggestion, reaching and plucking the beer out of Casey’s hand to take a sip before handing it back.

[Dina OOC] (Does anyone mind if I pop in a playtest character for about a little bit? I only have about 40 minutes to an hour?)
to Amunet Trujillo, Bridget Geroux, Casey Steward, Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Casey Steward] Casey’s gaze shifts over to Amunet, who snuck his beer right out of his hands, and the man chuckles. “I’m afraid I left my gun in my hotel. But if you think we can work around it.” He says before taking another lazy drink.

[Kyle] (Mind if I join in and were is everyone?)

[Bridget Geroux] The chick groans and makes her way over to Sarita. She doesn’t know… most of the people here, but she’s unphased. The Canadian groans a complaint of how she woke up this morning.

“Unnnngh. Jack and Jane don’t play nice.”

[Amunet Trujillo] (Just a random, crappy bar, and the more the merrier!)

[Bridget Geroux] [I don’t mind. Some random shitty dive bar.]

[Casey Steward] [Dont mind at all Dark, and they are all at the bar inside, Amunet sitting next to Casey, Sarita standing a little off talking to Bridget.]

[Amunet Trujillo] “I didn’t know that they were detachable like that.” Another twenty is waved to signal for another round.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Fine with me too. ­čÖé Though I will ask for a close for now Kyle and Dina/Azra. Any more would make it a wee bit crowded for me in my present capacity.]]

[Casey Steward] “Oh they’re versatile alright, concealable for easy travel, but packing a punch that surprises.” Casey finishes off his beer with a contented sigh as he looks at the twenty in Amunet’s hand and the round that was in the works.

“Am I about to bite off more then I can chew?” The smirk holding true as he stretches ever so slightly.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She smiles and reaches out, gently squeezing Bridget’s shoulder. “No, they usually don’t. And Jose don’t play nice with anyone as a rule. He’s a snippity little fucker. I’ll take it easy on you though and not mercilessly tease ya.”

[Bridget Geroux] Sarita elicits a toothy grin from the part-feral chit. She bumps into the Ragabash lightly, then sips her beer sheepishly.

“I appreciate it. I get enough of it from my own Tribe, but then there’s Hunter and Simon. They kick my ass to keep it real now and then.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Very, very possibly.” Se gives a cheerful nod, glancing over to Sarita and Bridget, then back to the bartender.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Yeah. Kinda got a taste of that last night.” She pauses, the smile mellow just a touch. “You think everyone’s gonna be okay. Patrick seemed…well. He seemed like he seemed.”

[Casey Steward] “Goody, I always liked jumping in feet first.” Another chuckle as he slides his empty back across the bar his gaze languidly sliding up to look at Sarita and Bridget before his head gently rolls back to Amunet.

“Now those two…they must hate each others gut’s to be that friendly.” His voice still audible to all, yet conspiratorial for Amunet as he gestures in their direction with a thumb.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Yeah. I don’t know who the fuck that is.” She scowls a little, clearly not comfortable with the fact.

[Azra Dzananovic] This random, crappy bar just happened to be in Azra’s path. When she moves through the door, the electricity within the confined space of the building seems to double. Azra’s a woman of delicate of stature – 5’4 and no more than 110 pounds. A pair of high heels give her height and the A-line of her skirt (hem resting just above her knees) gives off the illusion of legs that are longer than they truly are.

There is something inherently wicked about Azra. Blue eyes fringed with dark black eyelashes are too cold, her lips are perfectly painted a blood shade of red. Her well manicured nails are the same color. Dark hair hangs in perfect waves to the middle of her back. Even though this bar doesn’t seem a glove fit for the young woman, she manages not to seem too out of place.

Just above the hum of conversation and other bar noise her heels click on the flooring.

“Vodka.” She says to the bartender once at the bar. Jacket removed, it exposes a long sleeve black shirt made of a very fine, linen material. A hip rises to meet the stool and she sits, a red fingernail drawing a bowl of salty pretzels and peanuts closer to her reach.

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget wasn’t privy to Patrick’s tirade, so she doesn’t really know what’s going on in that respect. She does know that she missed out on something, that she has words for both of them that don’t involve talking down to a couple of Garou who are already constantly inebriated as well as being slightly fucked in the head.

The Canadian smirks, shrugs, and finds a chair or stool to collapse in. She notices two people she doesn’t know staring in her direction. Maybe she’s been chillin with Caldera too much, because she simply stares right back with her Jackie-O shades, then makes a box with her forefinger and thumb, making a camera clicking motion close to her right eye before she goes back to her beer.

“I don’t know what Patrick’s issue is. Howard is just as fucked up. They won’t talk to me, and they’re basically the only …ya know… family members of mine in the city that I can actually get a hold of. It’s somewhat disheartening.”

A dark edge of excess Rage entering the room causes the Fianna kin to look around, but she doesn’t find the source.

[Kyle] Most everyone knows the gothic Strider for his casual and carefree attitude. But tonight he’s finding it a little tricky to smile as he makes his way into the bar. A quick glance and he spots who he needed to speak to, a rather rough looking thug siting alone at a table in a corner. Passing around patrons and ignoring the usual looks he gets given he nods absently to the guy before sitting down without asking. The pair seem to be talking for a while when Kyle reaches into his trench and slides an envelope across the table. The guy opens it up and reads the letter it contained. Solemnly the guys then stands and walks around to Kyle who simply remains seated and looking at where the guy had been sitting. A large hand placed on Kyle’s shoulder in silent thanks before the guy leaves the bar. Leaving Kyle alone now at the table in silence.

[Casey Steward] Casey’s face shifts ever so slightly into something that might…might be amusement as his eyes roll from Amunet over to Bridget and Sarita before he turns about on the barstool and gives Amunet a few slow pats on the leg.

“Well then you better go find out hmmm?” He say’s it like its an idea, an idea which might amuse him, at the same time his eye’s suggest otherwise. “Or you could switch your order to Jose and see how you stand against the man.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She snorts. “Cuervo? That’s the best you can do, boy?” She nods, signaling for the tequilla shots. “You’re on.”

[Casey Steward] He slowly pulls himeself up into something that resembled a straight backed position and uttered one more sigh as he cracked his neck back and forth. “Lock and load.” He says cheerily with a hooded smile as he picks up the first shot and downs it smoothly. His eyes on Amunet, amused to be certain now.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Three each.” She points between the two of them. “Curevo. Straight up. None of that pussy assed salt and lime shit.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She glances up at Azra as she comes in, brow arched a moment as she gives the woman an appraising look. It’s short though, followed by a grin and nod before she looks back to Bridget. “Oh shit…yeah, you woke up right after that bit, huh? Or in the midst, tail-end…something.”

She pauses, not quite sure how to explain. What’s the polite way to say Your Tribemate was a pretty freakishly suicidal nutbag last night? That’s not the right wording, Sarita…think, think. She opens her mouth and shuts it, then opens it once more and pauses for a second before speaking.

“Patrick…kinda lost it. And in a…not exactly safe for himself way. Willingly, sweetie.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Kyle also gets a notice, and she throws him a brief, warm smile as well as a quick inquiring look that asks if he’s okay after last night without actually vocalizing it.

[Kyle] Now that his job was done his brain kicks into gear and looks to Sarita just as she looks his way. Forcing that smile back onto his face he slowly stands and makes his way towards her. The cheerful goth now noticing Bridget and Amunet. Not sure who Casey was and curious about the slight gap around Azra as he walks over to Sarita. A casual nod to both ladies as he stops near them.

[Azra Dzananovic] With her Vodka on the bar Azra takes a drink and chases it with a handful of peanuts. Her eyes begin to wander across the bar. There aren’t many candidates willing to take a seat next to the Rage filled Ahroun – though that doesn’t seem to be a major concern at the moment.

Sarita had offered a nod and a grin when she walked past and Azra offered the same – though her expression seemed more thought out. It was less effortless. Money is left on the bar and with the vodka in one hand the brunette Garou moves closer toward Sarita.

There is a very precise saunter to Azra’s movements, like she has at one time perhaps studied dance. Blood red lips slice a gash across her face exposing white, dangerous, perfect teeth.

Not interrupting at first, her eyes take note of every body within arm’s reach of where she stands. To most it’s an uncomfortable stare that leaves them adjusting their weight in their seat.

[Amunet Trujillo] The bartender lines six shots up and Amy slides over the cash to cover them, plus a generous tip to ensure that any that follow come quickly. Fingers around the first glass, she’s entirely too amused as she looks over Casey and makes a guess as to how long before he calls it quits. “Ready, sugar?”

[Amunet Trujillo] (Jesus christ, that was about twice as much punctuation as was necessary.)

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget notices Kyle and waves him over before turning to look back at Sarita.

“Whaddya mean? Like… ling Simon something awful about his mom sorta lost it, or is it something like I should haul ass over to the Packhouse to make sure none of them have overdosed on H sorta lost it?”

That source of Rage she felt previously makes its way over to where Sarita and Bridget are. The kinfolk, startled, jumps and nearly spills her beer. No party foul occurs, but it’s close.

Saint-ciboire de tabarnac!” the Quebecois hisses in a low voice, clearly taken aback.

[Bridget Geroux] [telling Simon*]

[Casey Steward] Casey eyes the six shots, and shakes his head slowly before his blue eyes fall on Amunet once more. “If you insist I’m sure I can manage.” He says as he picks up a shot as well and winks one more time for Amunet. “I wouldn’t hold it against you if you tossed in the towel you know.”

He shivers for a moment, as his eyes move instinctively to Azra, before he shakes out his shoulders and looks back to Amunet. “1….2….3.” And it begins.

[Marni] So, here’s the thing. There’s a thousand places in Chicago where one can get a decent batch of fries – but there’s only one that happens to be open and close to where she now stands. Run down dive bars should be the very last place she frequents at this point, but here she is, anyway. The door opens, and she walks (do NOT tell her she waddles… dangerous words, those) and enter one so-pregnant-she-could-pop-at-any-moment Gnawer off the street.

She unbuttons her coat, and sets a hand on her swollen midsection, before making her way toward the bar and hoisting her girth to the barstool. The bartender gives her a look, and she snorts. “I ain’t drinkin – I know. But couldyawouldyapleaaaaase get me some fries?”

No one argues with the pregnant woman. “And water. God I miss beer…”

[Amunet Trujillo] She snorts again, downing her three in quick succession, each glass slammed noisily on the bar when she’s emptied it.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Like…” She frowns, looking around. Azra’s presence near them clearly doesn’t bother her…but then, Sarita’s the kind of person who’s crazy enough to face down a Shadow Lord Ahroun and literally ask them to kick her ass. Bridget can vouch for that as an eyewitness. She looks back, lowering her voice as she leans in close to Bridget.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Like he pissed me off and I got in his face, and he literally told me to kill him. ‘Obliterate’ was the exact word. And he meant it.”
to Bridget Geroux

[Casey Steward] Its a sound much like gun fire as the pair of them rattle off their shots. Both are of course…standing at the end. “Well…that was tasty.” He says wiping his hands on his pants before smirking at Amunet as he pulls out another twenty to sit ontop of hers. “I don’t know about you but I’m still thirsty.” He says languidly as another row lines up before them.

[Amunet Trujillo] “I’m surprised, since this shit is like water.” She smirks and raises the first of the second round, then swallows it down.

[Casey Steward] Casey of course follows suit, his tongue licking the excess from his lips as he returns her smirk and raises a hooded brow in question. “Well I wouldn’t assume to think that an innocent young woman like you would know of anything better, but by all means, name your game…and of course..your stakes.”

[Azra Dzananovic] Azra is well aware of her Rage and she doesn’t seem all too apologetic. Briefly, her eyes adjust so they come to rest on Bridget and then Sarita. It isn’t until the whispering has ceased and each woman has returned to their own personal space before the stranger speaks.

“I am sorry, for interrupting.” She begins, her accent an odd mix of clipped Russian and smooth French. “I am new to your city, I was hoping you could point me toward a…eatery..The Brotherhood?” Her brow relaxes and she takes another drink of her vodka.

[Kyle] Looking to Azra he can’t help but take a step back. A casual nod to all three ladies and then he spots Marni as she enters. A casaul wave in greeting to her before he looks at Azra and listens to the conversation

[Bridget Geroux] What Sarita says causes the kinfolk’s face to grow pale. She nearly chokes on her beer, but covers her mouth. She utters some expletives in Quebecois French that are NOT good for polite company.

The Rage-filled Ahroun asks about the Brotherhood. Kyle looks even paler than usual. At the bar, Amunet is downing enough pure agave toxin to give herself alcohol poisoning. Marni convinces the bartender to order up some fries.

Bridget remains wisely quiet for now and goes to drink her beer.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Swears in unspeakable terms for my post being eaten. One sec, Azra]]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She reaches out and settles a hand on Bridget’s shoulder, nodding but looking optimistic before looking at Azra. “The Brotherhood? Yeah, I think I can help you with that. You just go…” She proceeds to give directions that are as accurate as a chronic wanderer can do. Which is to say that she’ll get there, even if she has to cross the same intersection a couple of times. She looks Azar up and down, slowly, and smiles. “Yeah, that’s where you wanna be.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Well shit, sweetheart. If you want to try to drink me under the bar, you can at least buy me some Everclear and make things interesting.” The other two shots are downed, and she fishes more money out of her pocket. “As far as stakes… I don’t know what you’ve got to gamble with.”

[Azra Dzananovic] Azra nods. She tips the vodka back and finishes it off, her tongue swiping across the red color of her lips to remove left over moisture. “Thank you.” It’s said with the faintest tip of her head.

With that, the brunette turns back to the bar and replaces her glass on the wooden surface. After that she turns and exits the bar.

(So sorry…I had a little less time than I thought guys. See ya again soon!)

[Kyle] Seeing Azra leave he looks to Sarita and gives an absent shrug. His voice soft as always as he speakes.
“Obviously she loved your directions.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She lets Azra go and then looks back to Bridget. “I’m sorry, sweetie…I didn’t tell you last night because I didn’t want you going after him. There’s a chance it wouldn’t-a been safe for you or him, it wasn’t right to take that risk. If anyone was gonna be good for him last night, it was his asshat of an Alpha.” The ‘asshat’ comment is made with a hint of good-natured tone to it. She doesn’t hate Howard, nor is she even that irritated with him even after last night. The New Moon has an appreciation for someone else acting under their auspice and doing it well, albeit without any discernible purpose.

[Casey Steward] The man’s quiet sleepy eyes pause on Amunet at the mention of Everclear and its a moment before he shakes his head slowly chuckling as he did so. “Well if under the table is your destination, that will certainly get us there.” He says as he pulls out some more bills and lays them on the steadily growing pile, the bartender just looks at them like they were idiots but goes for the bottle.

“Oh you mean besides for funsies?” He tilts his head back slowly and seems to think. “I have a car, it’s nothing to look at but it runs.” His sleepy eyes look her over before he seems to dismiss the idea.. “But for the young at heart, I always find the offer of bitch duty to be a winner.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks at Kyle and grins. “Hopefully she will after she’s done traveling them. …I think it was accurate. Mostly.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Bitch duty.” She nods. “I like it. You’re on.”

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget finishes her beer and makes an obnoxious show of tossing it in the trash.

“Fuck,” she exclaims. “Well, you’re right. I guess we’re the only ones who speak Welsh in the whole city, so maybe he’ll talk to me about it later. For now, I’m gonna go get some chow and pass out back at the Broho.”

She offers Sarita a terrorist fist-bump. “See ya later, homegirl.”

[Marni] Her fries arrive about the same time as a phone call – she mutters, grabs the box of fries and scoots off the stool, answers the phone with the other hand and slips out of the bar, and away again.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Sounds good.” She fist-bumps back. “Don’t have too much fun.”

[Casey Steward] “Damn….good thing I look good in a maid’s outfit.” His voice is casual as he rests his head on one curled fist as he watches the Everclear get slowly poured out.

He smirks though and looks over at Amunet. “Last chance to back out?” He offers in that same tone, its hard tot ell if hes hopeful…expectant.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Nope. You want to? No shame in admitting you can’t handle it.” Well, maybe a little….

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget waves an arm over her head before heading out. “I will!” she promises.

[Casey Steward] “Dearly. But I can never seem to say no to a foolish idea.” The smirk draws a centimeter higher as his first shot slides lethally towards him and he snatches it up. “To our health…and the benevolent porcelain gods we shall be praying to.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] He watches Bridget leave and then looks back to Kyle. “So how’s you after last night’s excitement?”

[Kyle] Waves to Bridget and then looks to Sarita with a shrug
“Doing good. Takes more than a room of angst to get me down.”
Plus he’d only had time for a drink before he’d had to take off and do some stuff.

“How you hold up today?”

[Amunet Trujillo] She laughs, then holds her breath and does the shot, eyes flickering to Sarita to see if her built in voice of reason is even paying attention.

[Casey Steward] The man has no one to tell him to stop, and as he said, foolish idea’s are just so tempting. He downs his own shot, and in the moment afterwards he looks considerably more awake then he did before.

He coughs slightly as he sets the empty glass down. “Well now..” Clearing his throat. “That…brings back memories.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Then you weren’t drinking enough of it, sunshine.” She winks and slides over the money for two more.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] If she is paying attention to Amy and Caset, she’s not showing it. Of course, that would HARDLY be the first time she’s pretended not to. “I’m fine. I didn’t have a t on to drink, I just got in everyone’s faces and challenged half the freaking Nation to beat my ass.”

[Casey Steward] “Ahhhh so that was the problem, I was wondering.” He smirks in her direction and bumps her shoulder with his before looking over to Sarita. “I believe your friend will need a carry home.” He says to her as he picks up his second shot and tries to remain steady as he turns. “For that matter, better make it two.” He then drinks the second, daring his body to say uncle.

[Amunet Trujillo] “So what’s the cut off point here? Puking, or passing out?” Her’s is downed too, though her head is starting to swim a little.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She speaks up without looking back to Casey. “You mean my sister.” It’s funny, the way “sister” can be pronounced in such a way as to spell out ‘Behave or you’ll know the taste of your own femoral artery.’ And even more amazing how it’s still said with a premise of pleasantness.

[Kyle] “SO a fun time then?”
Chuckles as he looks over at Amunet and ponders what trouble she’s getting into now.

[Casey Steward] He shakes his head, this time it happens rapidly, and its not the best idea hes ever had, as his vision spins slightly. “Oh, I was thinking the straight line test.” He says as he pushes to a stand. “The first to make it to your…sister?” He looks at Amunet for confirmation before. “Win’s our little wager. Apparently there might be a bonus prize in this for me if your sister’s to be believed.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Sister and attempted cockblocker” She nods, turning around to face Sarita very, very slowly. “Shall we?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “A fun time was had by all, yes,” she says to Kyle with a grin, and then looks over to Casey and Amy, curious to see who’s actually gonna make it..

[Casey Steward] “Sisters are always so helpful.” He attempts to straighten up a bit, something more akin to a straight up and down posture coming into view…a soldiers posture before he slouches slightly and gestures forward. “We shall.” And he takes the first tentative step forward, his smirk still on his lips as his eyes slide to Sarita with an unknowable look.

[Kyle] Wathing the two nutters as they attempt to walk he shakes his head and glances to Sarita.
“Do you think they realise they’ve been drinking water this whole time?”
Smirks as he just watches

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She raises her finger to her lips at Kyle’s comment, just grinning.

[Amunet Trujillo] She takes a tentative step, then another

[Casey Steward] Casey matches her step for step, but if either looks shaky it is most certainly he. But all the while he smirks as he walks, trying very hard to keep himself upright.

[Amunet Trujillo] Highest wins!
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Casey Steward] [Oh me oh my.]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2

[Amunet Trujillo] (Uh oh.)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Sarita didn’t even have to cheat!]]

[Kyle] (LOL)

[Amunet Trujillo] Amy lurches forward, somehow managing to stay upright and reaching the table a few steps ahead of Casey

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] They DID leave it ever so open for Sarita to rig. First one to each her? Well, that wasn’t tough. But as it turns out, she doesn’t have to move toward Amy because her sister wins anyway. She taps Amy’s arm and grins. “You just outdrank him. You are TOTALLY my sister.”

[Kyle] “First to the table and she’ll probably be the first to hurl.”
Snickers as he watches them.

[Casey Steward] Casey isn’t quite as graceful, he lurches forward as well, but he misses the mark and stumbles to his knee’s with a full hearted laugh before reaching forward the last few steps to lay his hand next to Sarita’s foot and taps outand looks at the pair of them. “Well… there we have it.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Goddamn, that sounds like it hurt. Come on, stud. I’ll make sure you get home.” She gives a cheery wave to Kyle, and reaches to help Casey up.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “So I shouldn’t expect you home any time soon?” She looks at Amy.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Well, I hope not.”

[Kyle] Just watches them all as he keeps that casual smile on his face.

[Casey Steward] Casey is still chuckling as he takes the offered hand and rises to his feet, a smirk all for Amunet as he shakes himself out and looks over to his bag and then back to the sisters. “Give her time, all things in good time.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She rolls her eyes, looking irritated. “So how goes that trying to make friends with someone we need to make friends with?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Come on. Unless you want to sit and drink until you pass out and I tell everyone.”

[Casey Steward] “No no… I know when it’s time to take a bow.” He sighs as something pops in his back as he picks up his duffle and smirks to Sarita. “I hope you don’t mind if I pass…just this time however.” He then brings himself back to Amy and sets to leave.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] The irritation is gone as quickly as it came, the grin coming back. “Naah. Do your thing, cowboy.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “You heard her, Cowboy. Let’s go.” She waves to Sarita and Kyle, and heads out with Casey.

[Casey Steward] Casey gives one last lazy wave to the pair, before heading off to another place.

[Casey Steward] [Thank you all for the scene, I will catch you soon.]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Thanks!]]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She watches them go, and the bottom drops out of the grin. She shakes her head, mood clearly suck, and nods to the bartender. “Another drink, please.”

[Kyle] “Does she really have to get a guy drunk to get him into bed?”
Smirks as he watches the drunken pair wander off

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “No.” She shakes her head. “It’s just part of the fun.”

[Kyle] “Really?”
Seems a little confused as he slides up onto a bar stool deep in thought.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She frowns and nods, taking the drink and downing a fair amount of it in a swallow. “Yeah.” She looks over at him, head cocked. “Why?”

[Kyle] “Never been in that situation I suppose so can’t put things into a quantifiable value. Oh well”
Shrugs as he motions for a beer to the bar tender and then glances at Sarita
“You seem rather unimpressed with her actions though. You worried about her?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Nah.” She shakes her head, fishing out a cigarette and lighting up. “I’m a little pissed and–although I’ll deny it if you tell anyone–a fair bit jealous. But I’m not worried, she can handle herself.”

[Kyle] “Jealous? Why would you feel jealous of her? I mean you have an amazing figure matched with an astounding appearance. You have a sense of grace that most don’t have. I don’t see why you’d be jealous?”
Tilts his head slightly as he grabs the beer that’s slid in front of him and sips from the bottle.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks over at Kyle and smiles. not one of her snarky smiles, a sincere and warm one. “You’re really sweet. Seriously.” She takes a breath and sighs, taking another drink. “I’m jealous because she’s got the ability and freedom–or at least, the lack of presence of mind–to just up and do shit like that. Somehow…and believe me, this completely throws me…I became the responsible one.” She furrows her brows, as if baffled how that happened.

[Kyle] Chuckles as he nods absently while nursing his beer.
“Just being honest. Think you’ll find it comes with blood. You’ve seen the bigger truth. You know that every shadow holds a dark secret. I’m only guessing mind you but I know people I grew up with started to become serious when they hit their first change. Always wondered about that but never knew since I couldn’t experience things like they did.”

[Gina McClaren] *Gina bumped the door open with a wide hip, both arms wrapped around a clinking crate of Guinness. Her coat askew over her dress, boots tracking in slush as she makes her way to the bar a ways away and huffs wearily at the bartender.*

There. Tha covers wha’ever ye figure ah owe ye fer tha room. N-

*A tawny finger held up as the tender begins to protest, pikey’s near unintelligible singsong cutting him off.*

Dinnae start ye tosser. Could o’ got a proper fookin hotel room fer wha these cost me.

*Not that they cost her anything, the curvy strider kin stole the wallets that paid for them, but she was hardly going to tell him that. The crate is pushed towards a grumbling employee, as Gina drags a hand through dark hair and surveys the barflies. Recognition sparking as eyes land on Kyle. .. Shit.*

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She shakes her head. “I been the New Me for a good long while. It’s only recently that this shit started happening.” A shrug, and she smirks. “Something changing, and I don’t like it, ’cause I ain’t gotten laid in longer than I care to s…” She looks over when Gina comes in, and looks from her to Kyle, then back. Her brow furrows. “Uh…hi?”

[Kyle] “Again wouldn’t know what that’s like.”
Takes a swig from his beer and looks around. Now that was a voice he hasn’t heard in a long time. Being a Strider though he knows how it is to just up and vanish without word for lengths of time. Seeing Gina he can’t help but grin as he motions for her to come over. Normally he’d go up and give her a hug but he’s not sure how welcoming that might be for Gina.

[Gina McClaren] Och… allo Darlin. Nice tae see ye again.

*Just perhaps not so soon. Leave it to a strider to be where you didn’t expect to find them. Lips quirk sideways in a conflicted smirk. Kyle was grinning, and she was genuinely pleased to see he was still alive and well despite the meat shredder that Chicago was for members of the nation. A sigh as she moves towards him, dark eyes wary on the stranger with whom he converses. The mark of owl playing subtly under her skin, scent of road dust and spices apparent as she nears. She nods.*

Allo.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hi.” She smiles a little at Gina, who is lucky enough that Sarita is mellow enough to not have the snark look. She notes a hint of similar features, and her head tilts. “I’m Sarita.” A hand is extended.

[Kyle] The beer is set down and he gets up to giver Gina a hug in greeting. He’s happy to see her in one piece. After giving Gina a hug he winks at her and sits back on the stool. Letting the two ladies do the introduction thing.

[Gina McClaren] *Once, Gina McClaren had been a friendly sort of creature. Too friendly, if you asked the more prudish of Chicago’s inhabitants. Now she tenses visibly as as the pasty goth kid hugs her. Backing quickly away with a short smile, to sit on a barstool, booted feet dangling. The handshake she offers to Sarita is brief, business-like, and – as kyle would likely note – bereft of any pleasantly tinkling bangles or jewelry.*

Nice tae meet ye Sarita loves. How es et ye kain Kyle here?

*A singsongy voice calls to the bartender.*

Pubsmith, a cherry whiskey, effen ye would?

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “We’re family.” She tilts her head. “Sorry, not meaning to pry…but you are?”

[Kyle] “Family as well.”
Looks to Gina with a concerned look. He’s not her keeper but he knows something is wrong. Mannerisms and body language all say that easily for someone who’s known her. But he’s not about to pry at the moment. There’s a time and place. Sips his beer as he watches the pair.

[Gina McClaren] *”They’re family.” Eyebrows dart upwards, and lips press tight. Perfect. The pikey sucks on her teeth a moment before clearing her throat and lullabying.*

Reckon ah left aul the family ah have back en Kirkcauldy darlin, n’ ye dinnae ‘ave the look o a pikey about ye.
Me name’s Gina.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] That quirks her interest. “Gina McLaren?”

[Gina McClaren] *Dark eyes narrow in response.*

Tha very same.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She smiles warmly. “I’ve been looking for you. In a good way, not a bad one.” She puts a hand up. “Promise.”

[Kyle] Absently he sips from his beer as he looks at Gina. Despite the black circles around his eyes and his always pale skin only a fool would miss the concern showing in his face. Something had happened to Gina and despite wanting to ask and find out he wasn’t going to pry. He’d let her talk when she was ready.

[Gina McClaren] Been my experience anytime a Strider’s lookin fer ye, ets en a bad way. Come hook oor by Crook.

*She gives her head a shake and looks to Kyle a moment, before turning back to the threat at hand. Er.. Sarita.*

Wha es et ye’ve been lookin fer me fer?

*This was not the same Gina that asked Kyle to help put together a flophouse for passing Striders and the dispossessed garou of the city. This was a curt, suspicious woman in the pikey’s tawny skin. Whiskey is delivered just in time, definitely needed as its downed in one harsh gulp, glass clanking on the bar with finality.*

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, to be honest…someone mentioned that you were kin and were around, but had kind of a rough time. Didn’t get into details.” She cocks her head to the side. “I don’t like seeing my fam having a rough time of things, so I’ve been trying to track you down and see what I could possibly do to help you out.”

[Gina McClaren] Mmm. Well ye can stop tracken.

*A dark eyebrow rises. Pikey touching her lips to sooth the burn of whiskey there. Sarita looked over carefully.*

[per/emp – uh-huh. Help me eh? What are your motives!?]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 4, 5, 8 (Failure at target 6)

[Gina McClaren] [*laughs* and so she’s just as lost as before! DOH!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[:D]]

She certainly seems honest. There’s nothing looking like deceit in her expression, her body language, her posture or her tone.

[Kyle] Looks at Gina and motions for the bartender to get another drink for Gina. Then he looks to Sarita and shrugs before finishing his beer and setting the bottle aside. Okay he can’t help but ask.
“You okay Gina?”

[Gina McClaren] *A deep breath, and Gina’s looking into her glass moments before its taken away. Yup, for more booze. the best kind. Free. A thankful quirk of her lips to Kyle*

Ah’m alright. Sae nae need tae fuss o’er a lass, either o ye. Reckon ah’m nae wan’s family but me own. Aulrecht?

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She furrows her brow, nodding just a little. “All right, that could be the truth. Fuck family then. You’re someone who’s doesn’t seem to be doing very well. I can see that, and I’ve known you for about three minutes, seventeen seconds. I want to help you get some joy back in your life.”

[Kyle] “Oh…”
And for the second time tonight his smile fades. Instead of dwelling on things he simply orders another beer and just watches the counter.

[Gina McClaren] Ye seem a clever enough lass. Reckon ah was daen jes fine up entel ah saw me a couple o Striders hangin aboot. Piss n’ Vinegar.

Yer folk are poison. Effen ye wan tae help a lass wi’ her joy, jes dinnae banter me name aboot wi’ any o yer tribesmates, n’ leave a lass tae her –

*Whiskey. Downed in three seconds flat.*

– tae her own devices.

*A glance at Kyle has regret spelled plain on exotic features that wore suspicion like an illfitting mask, face designed for softness and bawdy laughter. Nimble fingers find the buttons of her coat, preparing for the cold as she sings.*

M’saerry darlin. Didnae mean tae ruin a good time fer ye. Jes keep on yer toes, aye. Good tae see ye stell ‘ave em.

*And digging in a battered leather satchel at her hip for a tip, the churlish kin prepares to leave.*

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She watches Gina get ready to go, smiling a bit. “You know, sweetie…whether you believe it or not, I wanna help you. We ain’t all poison. And you are not happy. No offense, but that’s obvious.” A pause. “And now, I know you. So you kinda have two choices. You can let me, or you can refuse and I’ll do it anyway and just be a pain in your ass.”

[Kyle] “Didn’t realise. Sorry for being a bother.”
And in a reaction people probably will never really see from Kyle he slams money down on the counter and storms off towards the door. For once the gothic look he’s wearing suits as he takes off. He’s not running but some of the regulars that know of Kyle all get out of his way as he heads outside.

[Gina McClaren] Grand.

*A puff of breath moves her bangs off her face, a few dollars slapped on the counter as well, bills jumping as Kyle storms off in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. Gina watches him in surprise, before waking a dismally naked wrist and sliding off her barstool.*

Ah’d be moore concerned wi’ tha kin wouldnae jes as soon ‘ave yer guts fer garters.

*Gesturing to the Kyle’s hasty exit as she gathers her purse and moves towards the back room, ignoring the snarling protests of the bartender, man too busy to do much about it.*

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “One step at a time. First I have to get some that wouldn’t.” She says it in a gently teasing manner and pays for her drink, following after Gina.

[Kyle] (Kyle’s going to be outside for a while. Just have a few things to do RL here ­čÖé )

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[No prob. ­čÖé ]]

[Gina McClaren] *Two women meandering behind the bar was ENOUGH for the burly tender, pair of females getting the last of an angry rant as the door closes behind Sarita into the alley. Alley. Gina’s arms cross, fingers finding the insides of her coat sleeves. Reassured by the cold steel there. Would were it silver.

Her footfalls sharp on ice, pikey glancing behind her and slumping her shoulders in irritation.*

Sometimes folks ‘ave a bit o trouble wi’ the accent, sae ah’ll talk slower.

Fook. Aft. ‘ave enough mutts followin me home.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I can understand you just fine, chica. But you understood me too earlier.”

[Gina McClaren] Ulch.

*That about sums it up. Gina trekking down the sidewalk, trying to fathom the best possible way to lose a garou following her. With her breeding? Fat chance. Her mood going from bad to worse as her frustration grows exponentially with every pursued step. Its half a block before she whirls on her heel, hands lifting and falling in exasperation the ragabash is no doubt familiar with.*

Honestly, wha tha hell d’ye wan’ o me?

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Are you not bothering to pay attention to what I’m saying?”

[Gina McClaren] Daes et look like yer helpin?

*Retorts the pikey in challenge, stubborn as a mountain.*

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “No. Because it’s kinda hard when you ain’t willin’ to be helped.”

[Gina McClaren] Sae yer jes gintae follow a lass around makin ‘er miserable, oontil ye figure ye can ‘elp?

Fantastic logic darlin. Nae wonder yer tribe’s headed straight down tha shitter.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hey. You know what?” She jogs ahead of Gina, then turns around so that she’s walking backward. She doesn’t look to be smiling anymore. “Do you actually know anything about YOUR tribe, other than that you’ve encountered a whatever really fucked up ones have passed through here?”

[Gina McClaren] Ah dinnae ‘ave a tribe darlin, an ye can say et aul ye’d like, but as soon as ah find a way tae scrub these fuckin Owl’s mark aft me, oor wha’ever tha hell, ah’m gintae. Aul yer followin me like a fookin nutjob es helpen wi’, es me lookin entae becomin cozy wi’ a theurge even quicker.

*Sarita’s kin had a voice for singing. It was distractingly potent, attention grabbing. Even as it raises shrill, dripping with poison.*

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Way to now answer the question. Stop, PLEASE.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[now = not]]

[Gina McClaren] *And so the pikey stops, but rather than going hip shod and glaring, she remains balanced on her feet. Arms crossed, fingers in opposite sleeves, touching hidden steel. Thank the Shadowlords for that much. For all the good she knew a blade did against a garou.*

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Okay.” She huffs, stopping herself…luckily, just before she backed into a street sign. “Now. You don’t know me. From the sounds of it, you don’t know much about the Striders. And I don’t know a lot about you.” She considers a moment. “Hey, I’ll tell you what. I wanna talk with you. Not now…later. We’re both a bit on edge, and my reason doesn’t have all that much to do with you. So later, at a place AND time of your convenience and choice. And to prove I’m going to be good and not do anything evil, or what-have-you…you can keep my most prized possession until you’re satisfied that I’m not gonna fuck you over.”

[Gina McClaren] [willpowah – for curiosity flaw 1st!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Go Go Gadget-Convincingness!]]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 5, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6) [WP]

[Gina McClaren] *The stare Sarita gets is flat. Why were striders always trying to give her their “most prized possessions” as though that amounted to anything to a kin? Still, curiosity begins to gnaw at common sense as it was want to do in the kinfolk. An eyebrow up, her protests silent for the moment. The Strider seemed reasonable, and another time and place was easier to avoid if need be than the wolf following her home like a dangerous stray.*

Lets see et than.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She pauses. “I need you to promise that you won’t freak out. I am not going to hurt you. Understand?”

[Gina McClaren] Aye.

*Curiosity sparking in dark eyes, the pikey lets her hands drop from her sleeves. Posture guarded.*

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Okay.” She drops slowly down to her knees, reaching into her duster. Out comes the hand, in a slow, non-hurried motion…carrying with it a pretty enormous handgun. It’s a .44 caliber revolver, the kind Clint Eastwood holds when he asks punks if they’re feeling lucky. She sets it on the ground and rises, then takes three steps back.

[Gina McClaren] *A shrill wolf whistle escapes Gina before she has a chance to call it back. That was a BIG gun. The shorter woman crouches, fingers playing in the air over top the weapon a moment before she singsongs.*

There a spirit oor anythen en et ah need tae take care o?

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Nope. Just a regular gun.” A brief pause, and she actually looks almost comically awkward and hesitant. “It’s name is Harry. Um…if you have gun oil, just clean it once a week, if you’re okay with that.”

[Gina McClaren] ..Ye’ve another? Ah’m nae takin yer only gun than?

*Gina Scott McClaren. You were not supposed to care if it WAS her only weapon. Remember? Let her die in a fire fight and its one less strider to mess with your life. The pikey cringes at herself, before rising to stand. Not waiting for an answer to her stupid question, shaking her head and tucking the gun into her handbag.*

Ah’ll see wha ah can dae. Effen ye’ve a number, ah’ll take et down. Arrange a place tae chat.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I got other ways to defend myself. And honestly, the fights I get myself into? Won’t involve guns probably, if the last 24 hours are any indication.” She nods, giving over her number. “Whenever’s good.”

[Gina McClaren] Fine than.

*Beeping as the number is programmed into a dinosaur of a cell phone. Hell, that thing probably was cutting edge when “texting” was a new feature. The phone slid away, she gives a shake of hair far longer than was practical or fashionable, and the strider kin backs out of the alley. Fleeing towards another bar, her hotel room would wait until later.*

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She lets her go, and turning and heading back to go into the bar. She has a tab to settle..

[Gina McClaren] [z’awesome! thanks for rps! here’s hoping DB is back soon for you!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Yay! ­čśÇ Thank you too!]]

[Kyle] (Been here the whole time ­čÖé )

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[She’s coming back if you still wanna play Kyle.]]

[Gina McClaren] [Shenanigans!!! *dashes*]]

[Kyle] (Later ­čÖé been nice seeing you again)

[Kyle] While the ladies have been negotiating things, he’s been sitting inside again at the bar. HE’s on about his fourth straight scotch. Which for him was unusual. Even his pale face has some colour for a change. Sitting there he’s absently watching his drink as he twirls the ice around in the glass.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She’s looking to be in a sketchy mood when she goes back in. She sees Kyle and nods to him, changing her mind on settling up…she could use another drink too. She flops down on a stool next to Kyle. “Hey.”

[Kyle] Tilts his head slightly and nods as he downs the drink and another is poured. He’s probably rather smashed by now thanks to his already small frame and lack of body mass. Motions for the bartender to pour Sarita one as he speaks in that raspy voice of his.
“Hey. How’d it go?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She shrugs. “I got her to talk to me later. Only cost me my best friend as collatoral.” Yeah, she’s grumpy. “What happened to her? Do you know?”

[Kyle] Shrugs as he twirls the glass in the counter.
“No idea….She’s not a saint….Probably caused her share of trouble…..I heard she had troubles with all tribe trues…..Then she just upped and vanished…..Not a word….But hey she don’t need any of us….We’re jsut scum compared to her….”
And here’s why he doesn’t drink. He tends to speak rather freely

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “She’s got issues. But she said something about talking to a theurge to get rid of me, so she’s not completely isolated.” She shakes her head. “She’s hurtin’, I guess. But Christ.”

[Kyle] “One of us obviously did a number on her….I mean hell I probably said hi one too many times when I saw her….”
Downs the drink and grumbles when the bartender pours him a coke instead of another scotch.
“Maybe she’s better off around others….I mean if we hurt her so badly….”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Uh-uh. She’s not happy.” She shakes her head, downing her drink. “We can fix that.”

[Kyle] Looks at Sarita and nads absently as he downs the coke and sighs.
“Broke my own rule…..Don’t get attached to anyone…..Stupid me huh?….Well hope you can help her cause I sure can’t….”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hey.” She sets a hand on Kyle’s shoulder. “Ain’t no problem with getting attached. I know we’re solitary and wandering folk, but we always gotta try, you know? Otherwise we start to lose sense of who we are and why we fight.”

[Kyle] “Yeah suppose so….”
Lets out a ragged sigh as she feels his shoulders slump.
“Guess I’m being stupid…..”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She smiles and squeezes his shoulder. “No, mi hermano menor. You’re being human. Which is how you show us big furry fuckers how to be the best of what we can be.”

[Kyle] Now that gets a raised brow as he tilts his head ro look at her.
“You sure about that?…. I mean most True tend to treat us as little more than extras in a movie….Women kin especially seen simply as baby makers….”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Pretty damned sure. Most True do what most people period do. Take shit for granted.”

[Kyle] She can see in his eyes he’s trying to think that over but at the same time his eyes are trying to focus and not doing a good job of that.
“Suppose so…..Why do we as a collective whole…..all have to be as idiotic as those we….claim to be fighting against?…. I mean when we piss each other off…..aren’t we just making the job easier for the enemy?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Because we’re human.” She smiles a little, shrugging. “Well, some of us part human, but still. And humans make huge mistakes. It doesn’t make us wrong though as a whole, or not worth it.”

[Kyle] “Guess I over reacted then….”
Looks at his empty glass and shakes his head.
“Been a rotten night…..Had to deliver news to a guy that his only child was dead…..He took it so calmly but I know he must feel like hell….And then to have Gina act like that….All I need now is to have a nightmare and things will be perfect….”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She winces. “Ooh, that’s rough….sorry you had to deal with that.” Her head cocks. “Nightmares a common problem?”

[Kyle] “Yeah….Side effect of being killed…..Probably won’t dream tonight thanks to these….”
Grins as he holds up the empty glass.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Getting killed.” She blinks. “Like, metaphorically, or spiritually, or…?”

[Kyle] “Shredded, chewed up and spat out dead…..Technically I died four times I think they counted in total…..Entire family killed by an ambush…..step-aunt got me stable…..I make Frankenstein’s monster look like a pinup….”
Motions to his clothing which is used to conceal rather than be fashionable.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Jesus, man.” She looks troubled and a little sympathetic. “I’m sorry to hear.”

[Kyle] “Thanks….Harshest part was loosing my voice….Wasn’t much to look at but least I could sing.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She nods, sighing. “I assume it’s past the point that our usual healing methods would work on that.”

[Kyle] “They tried for years…..Took too much to fix the rest of me….Was either the voice or walking….Kind of prefer walking….Cross country in a wheel chair isn’t something I’d care to try.”
Smirks as he picks up another glass of coke and sips it.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Rough choice. Can’t say I wouldn’ta done the same though.”

[Kyle] “Yeah….”
Sips his drink and lets out a sigh before looking to her again.
“So seriously no guy has propositioned you in a long time?….Find that hard to beleive.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She shrugs. “I’ve been traveling with Amy for a year now. She’s…very proactive.”

[Kyle] “Meaning she gets the guys before you?”
Snickers as he winks at her

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She smirks. “Basically, yeah. I’m usually busy doing superfluous things like finding places to park where we won’t get towed, trying to figure out who the locals are that we need to meet…setting up some contacts so I can get some money…you know, frivolities.” She snorts.

[Kyle] “So while she’s off with some guy you’re here stuck with some gothic nutter….Gee raw deal there….Go find a guy or hell a couple of guys if you need to and have fun….I can help organize things for you if needed….After all that’s what family does….”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Psssht.” She smiles a bit. “I ain’t saying I’m happy that I’m getting less orgasms than a Spartan Roman Catholic priest in an all-girls octogenarian nursing home, but I’m perfectly fine hanging with you.”

[Kyle] Now that gets him laughing which results in a coughing fit. After he catches his breathe he downs his drink and nods absently.
“The thing is if you need help with day to day stuff let me know….Can talk to people and know folks who may be able to help….. That way you can go party for yourself….”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Thanks, man.” She smiles to him, sighing. “You’re good people. Don’t let anyone tell you different, okay?”

[Kyle] “If I always listened to people I’d never wear what I do.”
Chuckles as he winks at her.
“Besides got to help out some way and can’t fight for peanuts so may as well do what I can.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hey, fuck ’em all. I like your style.”

[Kyle] “Thanks….Not many people do…”
Grins as he staggers to his feet and sways a little.
“Time to head home I think….Need to sleep this off….”

[Kyle] (Going to have to bail. Have to sort dinner out and round kids up ­čÖé thanks for the scene )
to Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[No prob. Thank you!]]
to Kyle

[Kyle] (Catch you later. Thanks again )
to Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She smiles and nods to him. “You bet. Have a good night. Be careful.”

Let’s Jam!

[Kora] “You’ve seen the mucus glands of a moose, have you?” Kora returns, casting her packmate a – deeply doubtful look – as she pushes her winter gear into the booth and folds herself in after it. There’s a certain ease to the motion, though she does not bend perhaps as deeply as she ones might, and her center of gravity has already started to change.

“Don’t tell me your grandpappy raises them on the farm,” she finishes with a doubtful expression that would be a smirk on someone else’s face. There’s something lighter though, about the expression, that keeps the darkest expression of irony at bay. ” – because that I won’t believe.”

The street outside is dark and the windows here are tinted. It’s such a cold night, with swirls of flurries fallen from a dull orange, that the cold leaches through the insulated windows, making these booths chilled and rather less popular with the patrons. She likes the view, though, the comfort of it. Her packmate can watch the entrance, and she can watch the street. She glances out, now, dark eyes lilting over their reflections to the street beyond before looking back at Roman. Quietly, a furrow of speculation between her pale brows.

“Heard from Sparrow, lately?” Her eyes remain fixed on the younger Garou’s face with the question, quick and watchful and sure.

[Bridget Geroux] [Cha+Perf + PB 3]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 3, 3, 5, 5, 5, 7, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Roman Turner] “Raised Buffalo too. Steaks are pretty good if it’s a fresh slaughter and not over cooked.”

He got situated and started fiddling with the salt shaker while looking all over the place like he’d never seen such a place. Kora asked about Sparrow and for a split second something akin to pain flicked in those faded denim eyes of his.

“No, I guess she’s busy or something.”

[Izzy Montoya] Not many people would figure Detective Montoya for a music fan – let alone for Blues. Or Jazz. Or anything other than head banging screaming metal. Fact is, she has a healthy appreciation for all things music. So she’s hear tonight, already in a booth, not far from where Kora and Roman decide to sit.

She’s in the shadows of a booth, though it is certain that won’t hide her for long, as Kora has the uncanny ability to find her in any crowd. She has a beer in front of her, though she has yet to order anything to eat. Her hair is down, her dress business casual, as usual. Even off duty, she looks to be on alert.

She watches as Roman and Kora take their seat, and should they turn this direction, lifts her beer slightly in hello, before tipping it back to drink deeply of the icy cool liquid. Sometimes this is as good as it gets. sometimes that’s all she needs.

[Kristiana Coleman] The blond kin walks in dressed to impress in a shortish skirt and soft lightweight sweater. Maybe not exactly appropriate for the venue, but it’s not club wear. Her hair is pulled back with clips at the sides, and she strides in after being carded and once again successfully passing. Phone out, she texts Bridget rather than spend the time and energy to look for her.

[Simon Zahradnik] Simon takes the time to look them both Over. First there is Bridget, and his eyes slip all the way down and then back up before meeting her eyes.”I just got your call, sorry I am late.”He says before turning his head in the direction of Patrick. His smile grew and he nodded his head.”You like? I thought it’d be nice to dress up a little, you know look nice and pretty?”He asks as he holds out his arms and spins a little for Patrick. When he turns back around he looks in the direction of Bridget.

“I think I saw Kora and Roman but not too sure… I mean I was just passing through. Not sure who else might be on their way.”He says this with a nod of his head and a tiny little grin.”So am I umm… Too late? You already done?”He asks before glancing in the direction of the minibar.”I suppose I should get myself a drink.”He says.”I’ll umm… Be right back.”He says excusing himself for just a moment to wander past and grab himself a drink.

[Bridget Geroux] Downstairs, the next band finally starts in. They make a slow start, but maybe it will pick up. Some of the more inebriated patrons attempt to dance. The smell of fried southern food is mouth-watering. Soon enough, the waitress will return with their appetizer and ketchup.

Upstairs in the lounge, Simon finds the kinfolk and Galliard drinking bourbon and making small talk. She slowly sips at the bourbon, sets the glass on the table, and picks up her harmonica. The metal instrument gets polished briefly while the kinswoman looks off.

“I’m not going to even ask what you mean by Howard’s porn stash. So no, I haven’t seen it. He’s been acting weird lately, and I kinda lost my temper and said some shit that Hunter had to kinda kick my ass for. Figuratively. I deserved it. But anyway, I’ve been keeping myself busy working.”

She blinks a few times at her own rambling. Simon’s attire is… well, it gets quite the appreciative look from Bridget. She shifts a bit in her seat as she sits there. Bridget is a performer, but she doesn’t like to hear herself talk, not ramble on like this. The Canadian lifts the harmonica to her mouth and starts to play, following that same urge of movement as before.

Bridget starts to play a rowdy tune, George Thorogood’s Madison Blues. It’s quite the rendition, considering it was made for electric guitar. She leans into Patrick at some point, gesturing with her eyes at his guitar.

[Ivers] By the time he remembers he was supposed to be somewhere tonight he’s already had most of a pitcher of beer and Christ knows how many doses of drugs not worth mentioning in polite company; there’s no telling what reminded him, after all of that, but he looked at a clock or heard a song on the jukebox or maybe just took the world’s most head-clearing piss, but at some point he said to himself, “SHIT!” and then hauled his skinny ass out of wherever he was and started over to Buddy Guy’s.

Whereupon he realized that American assholes card for entrance into places like this.
Whereupon again he realized that breaking and entering isn’t terribly difficult.

Though he did not come in the front door like the rest of the world, Howard stumbles out of the bathroom as though he has been in there for some time, a curly-haired twenty-something Rip Van Winkle. Stumbling is never indicative of intoxication for him, being as he walks like a sloppy drunk even when he hasn’t touched a drop all day, and he looks worse than he smells; he does not reek, though he looks as though he does. He wears probably the worst outfit anyone has seen him in yet: black Converse sneakers, seafoam green twill pants, a bright orange t-shirt likely older than he is advertising Reese’s peanut butter cups, a black-and-blue scarf, and a black leather jacket. It goes without saying his hair is a mess, and his sunglasses are in place.

Patrick was late for undisclosed reasons; Howard’s lip is split.

He stands still a moment, looking around as though he’s attempting to figure out where the fuck he is, where the fuck he’s supposed to be. There are Fenrir everywhere, an underdressed Fang kinswoman nearby, and Howard starts aimlessly wandering in the blind hope he’ll find Patrick before he gets into another fight.

[Kora] “No way,” Kora returns, with a snort of disbelief. “There’s no way you raised moose. I’m pretty sure they’re like caribou, you know? Or reindeer in Lappland. They need cold weather to live, yeah? They’re adapted to it.” At the end of it, she offers Roman the slow, brief curl of a half-smile and drops her voice by a good ten decibels, finishing softly, ” – like Fenrir.”

The waitress has returned by now, with their drinks and the huge basket full of appetizers – chicken wings and fried oysters, fried okra and fried peas, fried pickles and fried twinkies.

Well, maybe not the twinkies.
Or the peas.

The woman has that harried look to her, bruises underneath her eyes, her hair flat from the heat in the room, from her sweat, from the long night of work. She puts the beer down in front of Kora and the milk down in front of Roman thoughtlessly. Kora does not switch them until the waitress leaves the booth, but switch them she does, picking up that tall glass of whole milk to return the quiet toast to Izzy.

Underneath the table, she bumps her toe against Roman’s calf; acknowledging that frisson of pain without indulging it.

[Patrick Llewelyn] [Per + Charisma: Guitar playin’.]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 4, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Patrick Llewelyn] [That was just depressing, Patrick.]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 6, 6, 8, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7) Re-rolls: 1

[Roman Turner] “Yessum, my family’s ranch has all sorts of odd things on it that ya don’t expect to find. Ostrich, Llama’s, even some of them fainting goats. Course, after a while I wasn’t able to get too close, so ended up shoveling stalls when they were empty.”

He might be pulling Kora’s leg on the Moose part but he sure wasn’t admitting it if he was. The waitress returned and got an even bigger smile when she absently put the milk in front of Roman. Though Kora snagged the milk before he managed to stick his tongue in it or anything. Still receiving a beer in exchange was a good deal in his head. About the time Kora saluted Izzy was about the time she bumped his leg beneath the table so he thought one had something to do with the other and was twisting in his seat to locate the recepient of the salute to which he saluted too with his beer. Izzy got a devilish smile with the beer salute.

[Simon Zahradnik] Simon finds himself watching. Settling in and watching when the two of them start to play. His eyes shifting as he pulls up a seat and settles his glass on the nearest table and just decides to watch. Patiently and quietly, let the Fianna do what the Fianna do best right?

I mean you wouldn’t want them barging in when you are torturing or betraying someone ruining your fun now would you Simon? So let them do their thing and they will let you do your thing and in the end everyone wins.

[Izzy Montoya] Kora salutes her with milk, which makes the corner of Izzy’s lips lift in the briefest, smallest of smiles. While she has no wish for ankle biters of her own, she knows Trent is excited – and that’s enough to have her at least appreciative of Kora’s condition. That devilish grin of Roman’s however – that twists the smile into a huff of amusement.

She must be tired to let it be seen like that.

[Patrick Llewelyn] Simon is twirling and speaking of feeling pretty and the Fianna glances at him and simply —

pauses for a moment, mid swallow. He stares at the Shadow Lord from under a furrowed brow and then simply nods, and samples what might once have resembled a friendly smile but honestly rather looks more like an awkward grimace. That might also have something to do with, truth be told, the large amount of whiskey he just imbibed. Bridget responds with something about Howard’s behavior and her own and then starts up with her harmonica.

And, well, it’s easier for Patrick to play, then try and figure out why an Ahroun would tell a Galliard he feels pretty. He takes up his guitar, and starts picking up the chords to accompany Bridget’s tune; it takes him a moment, perhaps two, and then he has it — he taps his foot against his leg in time to the beat.

Downstairs, his Alpha has arrived and Patrick feels the familiar tug at his senses telling him he’s nearby: We’re upstairs, man Howard hears, along with a mental projection of the room, and the staircase leading there.

[Ivers] “Whoa.”

This, out loud, as though Patrick had sneaked up on him and not projected an image of where it is he’s supposed to be going rather than yelling it in his ear. As tempting as it likely has to be for him to go over to the seated kinswoman who insisted he call her Detective Montoya instead of whatever obnoxious nickname he would have come up with for her, or to the pregnant Skald who had threatened to geld him when last their paths meet, the brightly-colored Theurge does not wander over and attempt to ruin their nights.

Either he can be taught, or he has simply reached the point of being inebriated where his perception of his surroundings is completely nonexistent.

Up the stairs he goes, grabbing the railing so he doesn’t wipe out attempting to ascend, and when Howard arrives at the VIP lounge he identifies himself in a relatively sober-sounding voice. Patrick and Bridget have started playing already, and there’s Simon, parked at a table dressed like a 70’s flashback in his denim jacket. A grin of forewarning comes over his lips, the barely-formed scab on his lower lip threatening to crack and bleed again if he isn’t careful, and he ambles over, bumping into a chair before hauling it back and dropping himself down right next to Simon.

“Dear Jesus are you handsome tonight,” he says, and reaches out to steal the Ahroun’s beer.

[Kora] Kora shakes her head doubtfully, somehow imagining Roman’s family ranch as a cross between Noah’s Arc and Dr. Doolittle’s lab. Her laughter rises underneath her breath, and disappears just as quietly – brief and charming before she dives into the giant basket of deep fried – well, deep fried anything on the table between them.

“The Sept where I fostered – Vindur und Ringing – it’s off on the north Atlantic, on this barrier islands, my people call it Hjaltland, right? And the only thing that could survive on that turf grass, in the winter conditions, was sheep. So the kin there raised sheep, and fished for a living. Winter was pretty much mutton or dried fish, dried fish or mutton in endless combinations. Every piece of both, too. It was – ”

There’s a brief, far away look – though her ruminations are interrupted by the vision that is Howard Ivers – and when she looks back to Roman, her dark eyes are shot through with a certain ironic light, the nostalgia subsumed beneath the surface of her pale skin, bleeding through only in the shape of her half-smile. “Stark. And so far north that winter was dark and long. Sometimes you could see the northern lights, though – scintillating across the sky.”

[Bridget Geroux] Indeed, Simon. Indeed.

The Fianna make child’s play of the song collectively. Even if it takes a second for Patrick to get into gear. Somewhere towards the end of the song, a cheap black cell phone on the coffee table buzzes, vibrating against the glass. It lights up with the name “Kris” on the outer screen.

Bridget eyeballs the cell but doesn’t go to pick it up until they’re done. Howard, man of the hour, stumbles in the VIP lounge in a drunken stupor, collapses on a chair, and starts flirting with Simon. This elicits a throated chortle from the young woman a few seconds after the last note.

She grabs the phone with one hand, then bumps Patrick with her shoulder lightly.

“You’ve got some mad skills there, Slick,” she says before punching some letters into the phone and clicking SEND. The phone gets dumped back onto the table, the glass of bourbon goes to her lips. A deeper sip warms her belly.

Bridget stretches her legs out, kicking off her black kitten heels. “So, what’s next?”

[Roman Turner] For his part, he was working on draining the beer as Kora talked about home and cold and fish and sheep. Boy he had some sheep jokes not fit for mixed company that he had to keep to himself. In the middle of talking Kora paused to look at someone and that had Roman turning to see who it was. He didn’t know Howard from Jesus, so wasn’t so sure that’s who Kora looked at when she did that little pause in her story before continuing.

“I miss flat land with an unobstructed view. All this traffic, snow and folk rushing around is just plum crazy. I would of likely ended up in love with a Sheep if I’d lived where you grew up and that would of been baaaad.

[Patrick Llewelyn] As Bridget’s song tapers out, the Galliard’s fingers soften on the chords; he grins despite himself when Howard makes an instantaneous bee-line for the Shadow Lord and starts hitting on him and keeps his head lowered so as not to distract himself from the riff he starts evoking out of the strings.

Bridget nudges into him and he mmphs, glancing across at her without ceasing in his gentle, aimless play. “Back at you, I don’t think I’ve seen someone elicit those sounds from a harmonica since — ” he looks momentarily blank — “Well, ever.” Patrick then returns to his bluesy playing, alternately his time with thumps of his palm against the side of the instrument for a dull, rhythmic backing.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] The perpetually grinning one slips through the door, stepping into the establishment. Perhaps surprisingly, she’s not dressed in the same motif as she usually is. The duster’s been left at home tonight, with a brown leather jacket replacing it. She’s got a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses on, a white tank-top that reads “Destination: Grassy Knoll” with the o in ‘knoll’ consisting a crosshair target. Torn, well-worn blue jeans and a pair of cowboy boots complete the the ensemble.

She steps a few paces inside and then off to the side, so as not to block traffic to and from the door as she looks around the place.

[Simon Zahradnik] Simon was watching Bridget mostly, transfixed by the kin as she and Patrick play so he didn’t notice when Howard came wandering up to join him. His eyes shifted towards the Theurge and his smile grew a little. He pulled the hat off his head and nodded back to him before looking back in Bridget’s direction.”Thanks… I thought I would at least try to look decent seeing as how I got the invite and all right?”He asks before flicking his eyes back to Howard.

Simon wasn’t the kind to be weirded out or creeped in the slightest by comments like this.”You get your lip bit?”He asks him with a little smile as he watched Howard steal his drink.”It’s rum… I thought you kind were more the scotch sorts.”He says before looking back up to his face and finally back to Bridget.

“It’s nice just to get a chance to settle back and relax now and again.”He says, those green eyes just watching, admiring, the kin as she played. Quiet and reserved. The full moon wasn’t terribly talkative or speechy at the moment it would seem.

[Kora] “The dude with the bad fashion sense is Fianna,” explains the woman who wore the same blood-stained jeans for six-months straight, and had a no more than two other changes of clothes until a kinfolk espied the lack, and brought her a new wardrobe she usually eschewed in favor of her dedicated things. She further explains: “Loudmouth.” – with a brief, narrow little smirk.

“Anyway, I didn’t grow up there,” returns Kora, making that clear distinction between her fosterage and her childhood. She is making steady progress through all the deep fried treats delivered to their table, employing Roman’s hard-won ketchup only sparingly. “It was an accident of circumstance, really. I was in Edinburgh when I changed, and that was the closest Fenrir Sept. Linus and I, we moved around alot when we were kids. Sort of like military brats, without being in the military, yeah?

“Lived almost anywhere you can think of. Florida, Kentucky, upstate New York, southern California. We were in Missouri when I graduated high school. Then they moved up north somewhere. I think they were in Montana when Linus’ dad came looking for him.”

[Ivers] Here’s the joy and beauty of being in the presence of the Ahroun of this Sept: they will talk and talk and talk and eventually forget having asked Howard a question in the first place, eliminating the number of instances in which he could potentially be caught fabricating some wild story to be teased apart and dissected as his companion searches for the truth amidst all the bullshit that comes out of his mouth every night.

Simon asks if his lip was bitten, and while it’s a nasty cut, the Theurge doesn’t answer the question. There’s a question as to whether or not he was a scotch drinker, and Howard flicks his heavy brows up over the edge of his aviators before tossing back a mouthful of Simon’s drink. To his credit he doesn’t put his cut lip on the glass or straw, although that may be more due to a desire to avoid the sting of alcohol on exposed tissue than to avoid getting germs on the other man’s drink.

“You should do it more often,” Howard says, to the matter of settling back and relaxing. “Take that stick out of your arse, yeah? Although if you did that I don’t know what I’d do with myself. That whole uptight prick thing really works for you.”

[Izzy Montoya] When the waitress swings her way again, Izzy still does not order food, though the scents of the cooking are enticing enough. Maybe she’s already eaten, or perhaps the more plausible truth is she has decided to drink her dinner tonight. Thus, it’s another drink she orders – another beer, this time with a friend – whiskey, neat – to keep it company.

She doesn’t change tables, doesn’t move to interrupt Kora and Roman’s conversation, doesn’t move upstairs. If she saw Howards entrance – and she did, she misses very little – it doesn’t get more than a glance. Instead, most of her attention seems to be for whoever is on stage – right up until she grabs a file folder from the briefcase beside her, opening it up and littering her night off with work.

[Roman Turner] “I lived in Clearwater my entire life till I came with Sparrow to here. Who would of thought I’d still be here and she ain’t?”

For a moment his face screwed up like he bit in to something sour. The beer was polished off and he waved down a waitress to shove the leftovers in a box before he rose and started replacing his winter wear. One hand was held out to Kora to pull her out of the booth.

“Ok, back to the grind. Here, let me help ya with your coat.”

He made sure Kora was bundled and grabbed the box of leftovers with a wave to Izzy before the pair made for the door. They stuck close together, touching now in the familiar way of Packmates.

“I think we should get some ice cream on the way home, watcha think?”

His words soon swallowed by the howling wind and sound of the street as they stepped out.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She heads to a table as close to the stage as she can, taking a seat and taking the aviator shades off. She smiles at a waitress and orders a tequila sunrise, watching the stage for a moment before she looks around the room, looking for faces that she knows.

[Roman Turner] (( thanks ))

[Kora] (night folks!)

[Bridget Geroux] ((night))

[Simon Zahradnik] He laughs back at Howard and shakes his head.”Dressing to impress is for special occasions. Practicality is for most occasions.”He says with those eyes breaking from Bridget long enough to look back at Howard. His eyes focusing on that lip before he shrugs his shoulders.

“You and Patrick doing okay? No troubles or anything? Life is… Alright?”He asks, small talk was about the best he could hope for with these two. Anything more than that and there was likely to be fists flying and lots of yelling. Simon hadn’t come to fight, and for Bridget’s sake he would play nice with her Tribe tonight. It only seemed respectful.

[Bridget Geroux] The eyes of the Ahroun under the sign of his change–also sandwiched between the two other Garou– causes Bridget to fidget. Patrick strums his guitar, Simon’s eyes fondle the kin, Howard flirts behind his aviators.

The Canadian rises and takes a giant step over the coffeetable, then pads barefoot back to the bar. She grabs the bottle of whatever bourbon they were drinking before, two spoons, then returns with it in a similar manner, sits down, and pours herself another glass.

The bottle of Jefferson’s Reserve rests on the glass countertop before Bridget gets comfortable again. Her fingers clasp around the two metal spoons and she does a couple warm up excercises with them to keep herself from going nuts. Her eyes flick to Simon. The bumpkin is appreciative of his outfit and the way he wears it.

Bridget tries not to look at Howard, whether it is because she doesn’t want to provoke him, or because she might still be angry (which is unlikely, but possible), is uncertain.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She notes Howard at the table that he’s at with Simon, raising a hand to wave toward him before she looks back to the stage. She tilts her head when Bridget busts out the spoon, her usual smile becoming something a bit more intrigued. The tequila sunrise arrives and she thanks the waitress before pushing a chair out at the table she’s at so she has something to put her feet on.

[Ivers] Life is… alright?

“Lemme tell you somethin’, gat,” Howard says, his voice a little louder than is absolutely necessary yet not at a volume that will overpower the two playing, oddly cheerful despite the subject matter he’s suddenly decided to discuss, “life fuckin’ sucks. I don’t care how many times you go ’round sayin’ we have a purpose or the fuck ever. Either you appreciate the things that don’t suck–”

He turns his head towards Patrick and Bridget, his eyeline obscured by black plastic and thus the intended object of his attention uncertain; it could be his brother, it could be the woman he’s scorned this month, it could be the idea of them, the tribe, music, some other abstract concept he can’t possibly articulate at this point in his bender. Whatever it is, Howard only looks at them for a second or two before he looks back and steals Simon’s drink again.

“–or you end up wallowin’ and this whole thing becomes completely fuckin’ pointless. Yeah, sure, maybe you could do what you seem fond of doin’ and pretend life is amazing despite all the crap that goes on and go around wavin’ your pom poms tryin’ to get everybody pumped the fuck up, but that takes way too much effort and if you ask me it’s slightly fuckin’ delusional. If it’s workin’ for you though… cheers, mate.”

He’s got to be high on something. Howard never talks this much.

[Bridget Geroux] Howard’s brilliant and loud tirade makes the Albertan stop short in her practice. She grabs the drink off the table and downs a shot. The first, having been imbibed slowly, is slowly inching its way towards numbing her perceptions. Her eyebrows raise in protest at Patrick, and by the look of the slight clench in her jaw while she moves her lips into a smile, she’s stifling herself from chiming in.

Another flinch of her facial muscles and a slight noise of protest from her throat, and the expression is gone. She turns her head again over at Simon for a second, blinks a few times before looking back to Patrick. She puts the spoons down just as she notices Sarita made her entrance.

“Oh, thank God you came,” she says to the Strider.

Bridget is glad the testosterone quotient in the room is thinning out; she’s glad to know someone here might be holding MJ so that things will calm the fuck down before they even get started. The Canadian smiles and gestures to the minibar before picking up her harmonica again.

She starts to play an old tune, done several times by several people, but made famous by Mister Muddy Waters: I Just Want to Make Love to You.

[Patrick Llewelyn] Patrick is playing almost mindlessly.

Which is not to say that he plays without timing, or a degree of competency, but that his fingers on the strings seem almost a disconnected thing from the rest of his body. He’s listening now to the conversations going on around him; in particular to what Simon is asking and Howard is telling so that Patrick is in fact looking in their direction when Howard turns his head toward them and the Galliard frowns; and his eyes slip away, back down to his guitar and then across at Bridget as the fiery brunette downs a shot.

Picks her way cross the room to allow the Silent Strider entry.

Patrick gives up picking out tunes without starting, and sets the instrument aside in favor of finishing his drink, and venturing to the small bar to procure a second. “Hey, Doc, I say we outlaw talk of anything that is not related directly to getting drunk, or jazz music. Why don’t you play something?”

He gestures at his guitar, then at Bridget. “Do us proud.”

[Simon Zahradnik] He rolls his eyes.”If life sucks so much big guy there’s a way out…”He says this with a shrug of his shoulders.”I for one wake up each day, and take a breath and you know what that feels like? It’s pretty nice… Cause unlike you I have an appreciation for the fact I am still alive right? A lot of folks don’t get that luxury…”He doesn’t look at Howard as he speaks.

“You keep whining… See how far it gets you. I dunno it might be a good approach.”He laughs a little and sets his hands on his glass to take a sip and close his eyes to relax and focus.”Seems to be our approach anyway so what the fuck does it matter right? I’ll get my ass killed and everyone will say some shit and not a single one of you will have learned a goddamn thing.”He settles his glass down.

“It’s the way of the world.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Howard’s diatribe isn’t completely caught by Sarita, but she does hear just enough to get the gist. She looks over his way, her brows bunching into a furrow, before she looks back to Bridget and smiles.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” The tone is warm and friendly. She looks at the minibar that Bridget gestures to and nods in acknowledgment. She pulls a battered tin case out of her pocket and flips it open, pulling out a filterless cigarette and lighting up. Only AFTER she lights up does she go ashtray hunting.

[Bridget Geroux] Is Patrick trying to make a joke or is he actually inviting Howard and Bridget to jam? Simon and Howard are seriously dragging down the mood of things. Bridget stops playing, sets her harmonica down, and raises her eyebrows at Sarita. Wide-eyed, as if it is a cue for something.

Frustrated, the kinswoman falls back to one side on the couch. She eyeballs Sarita’s cigarette as she goes ashtray hunting.

“Best just use a glass. Hey,” she follows up. “You holding?”

[Ivers] Howard holds up a finger to indicate he hasn’t finished yet when Patrick comes over to intervene. When the Shadow Lord starts talking, the Theurge barks out a laugh and looks toward the ceiling, as though he’s attempting to figure out where he placed something that has no logical reason for being up there in the first place. He pushes his hand up underneath his shades to rub at his face, groaning loudly when Simon tells him to keep whining.

“Jesus Christ,” he says, sitting back up, “Now I’m whinin’. You people just don’t like hearin’ anythin’ that isn’t ‘GAIA IS BLESSED AND WONDERFUL’ or ‘WE’RE GOIN’ TO WIN THE WAR’ or ‘IF WE ALL JUST FUCKIN’ WORK TOGETHER…'”

Howard pushes back from the table, nearly losing his balance as he gets to his feet.

“Maybe if you tried listenin’ to other people they’d fuckin’ learn somethin’ from you you bombastic twat.

And there he goes, back towards the stairs.

[Patrick Llewelyn] I’ll get my ass killed and everyone will say some shit and not a single one of you will have learned a goddamn thing.

Behind the bar, Patrick’s lips twitch. “Careful, Simon,” he notes with idle flippancy and mouthful of whiskey, “you’re starting to sound like me.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks at Bridget and nods. “Chica, I’m always holding. It’s just a matter of what I’m holding that’s in question. Smokes, “smokes,”–complete with air quotes–“my collection of vintage Nelson and Heart CD’s, someone’s spleen…” She shrugs, then smiles. “I’m holdin’ what you’re askin’ about though, yeah.”

She pauses in the midst of picking up an empty glass for said ashtray purposes, hearing Howard’s rant. “Whoa. Hey, hombre…wait up.” She gives Bridget a little wink, as if to say Don’t worry…I got this as she follows behind him.

[Bridget Geroux] And that seems enough for Bridget to rise up from the couch, shooting Howard a glance. “Howard!” the voice isn’t angry or overly loud, but enough to get his attention.

“Come on, guys. I’d like to just chill with you guys and not think about this heavy shit for a while. This doesn’t help anything.”

[Izzy Montoya] She reaches for her whiskey, and tosses it back with a grimace. She doesn’t ruin the taste by being a wuss and following it with a beer either. She simply sets the glass to the edge of the table to be picked up by the waitress her next trip around, and goes back to the work in front of her.

[Patrick Llewelyn] “I’ll toast to that,” the Galliard murmurs and takes his glass back to the sofa; sinking down on it, the Fianna nurses the glass idly upon one knee, resting it on the coffee table and staring rather glassy-eyed ahead of himself at nothing and everything at once. Howard has wobbled his way back downstairs and for all the reaction his pack-mate gives to this, you’d wonder if they were truly pack-mates at all.

But then, how was anyone to know that they hadn’t been conducting their own conversation for the better part of the hour or so Patrick had been hanging about upstairs in the lounge with Bridget. They didn’t; they couldn’t. He does turn his head lazily to one side as first one, then another of the females call out after his Alpha.

The Welshman’s brow creases in bemusement.

“Gotta give him props, he knows how to make an exit,” it appears Patrick is addressing an empty room — or Simon — or his glass. Across the totem link, all Howard hears is his pack-mate’s amusement, and: they’re coming after you, run faster.

[Simon Zahradnik] “If there is nothing in this world worth fighting for. Then there’s nothing in this world worth living for…”He mutters before opening his eyes and meeting Patrick’s as Howard walks away.”We’re not the same Patrick. We’re not even close…”His eyes lock into Patrick;s own and he stares with such piercing, penetrating fury.

Simon was being quiet and reflective right now but there was no hiding a trace of contempt as it grew on his face. He listened to Howard’s footsteps carrying him away and he slowly shook his head.”Never… Ever… Ever run from a predator.”He mutters under his breath before going back to his drink.

Cold, quiet, and dismissive. He wasn’t here to fight.

[Ivers] [And let’s stay Howard somehow manages to evade capture despite being dressed like a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade float. Thanks for the scene, all!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She sighs as he makes it to the stairs before she can get to him, a chair blocking the more direct route between two tables that would have let her intercept. She watches him go with a frown, but it’s quickly wiped away before she turns her face back to the others. The smile is back on, and she makes her way toward Bridget.

“Just needs some chill time, I’m sure.” She shrugs, picking up a glass on the way and ashing into it. “Happens to the best and worst of us, so whichever of those he is I’m imagine he’ll be just fine.”

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget never really left the couch. She lets the Strider handle it and pours herself another glass. Simon grows suddenly… cold and dark, which honestly is to be expected but not something Bridget has witnessed firsthand from the Shadowlord.

She blinks a few times, slams back another shot, then goes to stretch herself out on the couch. There’s still plenty of room for others, and there’s additional seating besides.

“Tabernak,” she mutters an expression of frustration. She runs her fingers through her hair as Sarita comes back to save the day– or night, as it is.

[Izzy Montoya] She finally looks up, pushing her hair back from her face with her fingers. A last notation on the papers she’s working on, and she closes the file, and places it back into her briefcase. Moments later, she stands, slips on her coat, takes up the case, and makes her way out of the establishment.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Tabernak?” She chuckles, sitting next to Bridget and setting the glass down. She balances the filterless on the rim and pulls out the same battered tin case to open it. Once open she runs her thumb along the inside, pushing down in a spot which causes a click and the false bottom to open. Underneath is the far less legal smoking substance.

“Ain’t heard that particular curse word in a while.” She starts rolling a joint. “Not since I took a quick jaunt north of the border.”

[Kyle] (Mind if I wander in? )
to Bridget Geroux, Izzy Montoya, Patrick Llewelyn, Sarita Ecos de la Risa, Simon Zahradnik

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[I don’t!]]
to Bridget Geroux, Kyle, Patrick Llewelyn, Simon Zahradnik

[Patrick Llewelyn] The Shadow is staring across at Patrick, telling this creature, of all creatures that if there is nothing in this world worth fighting for, there was nothing worth living for. He tells him they’re nothing alike and Patrick’s slumped chest gives a sharp exhale of bitter amusement.

The Galliard’s pale eyes glint as he stares back at the Ahroun.
He isn’t shying away, though unlike Simon, Patrick’s Rage is dim; diminished.

“Damn right we’re nothing alike,” he holds up his glass, peering through the amber liquid at the distorted reflection of Bone Grinder. “You care about this War, man. You probably have some great, inspiring spiel about where your deed name came from, hell, I could recite for you about a dozen different stories and make you feel a dozen different ways about our existance.

But it doesn’t change shit.”

He takes a sip, runs the tip of his tongue over his lips, tasting the bitter aftermath of the whiskey. “I care about people, if some dick came up and hassled Bridget, or Howard or anyone I’d fight to help them. But I wouldn’t do it because it’s what some higher than thou entity instructed for me.

I’d do it because it’s the right fucking thing to do. There’s things that I care about, what makes us Monsters, just isn’t one of them.”

[Patrick Llewelyn] [Shadow… lord. Hee.]

[Kyle] He’d intended to arrive a lot early than he has, but other things kept him distracted. Making his way into the VIP room he nods to everyone as he sets his guitar case and trench aside out of the way. It was the lack of sleep that made him look like he was wearig makeup. The black circles around his eyes natural and the pale skin was just how he looked. The traditional top to toe in black included a set of fingerless leather gloves tonight. The other odd thing he’s wearing tonight is a top hat. He’d forgotten to take it off and chuckled as he now realised why people had looked at him oddly on the wander over. Seeing Sarita and the others he makes hiw way over and gives that casual smile and wave as he looks for a spot to sit down.

[Patrick Llewelyn] [Charisma + Expression, for shits and giggles. +1 tough crowd, also slightly drunk]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 6, 8, 10 (Failure at target 7) Re-rolls: 1

[Patrick Llewelyn] [worst. galliard. ever. / ]

[Kyle] (LOL)

[Bridget Geroux] The click inspires the chit’s interest. She rises up enough to rest her head on the Ragabash’s shoulder. And maybe Bridget is just that friendly with people. It’s happened with her Fellowship sisters, the last time she tried with Howard he flipped a god damn bitch, and she went climbing with Victor’s help (although it’s doubtful anyone is aware of that).

So Bridget smiles like a cozy cat curled up in the sunlight, biting a pouty bottom lip. Patrick, the drunk at the bar talking to himself, tries very hard and makes a good point, but it’s just not effective. Maybe he’s slurring more than he things, but it’s just not the grand speech one expects from a Galliard.

A Strider kin not seen in a long time makes his way inside and takes a seat. Bridget’s eyes light up, but she doesn’t take her cheek from Sarita’s shoulder.

“Haven’t seen you in forever. Where’d you blow in from?” she asks, half-interested. It’s not because she’s not interested in seeing the kin so much as the illegal substance Sarita’s about to light up.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She smiles at Kyle, waving him over. “Hey, you. Good to see you. Have a spot to place yourself wherever.”

She clearly doesn’t mind being a headrest for Bridget, looking over at her with a faint smile. There’s a friendly demeanor to her face, something akin to a protective big sister feel to the way she reacts with both Bridget and Kyle around her. She finishes rolling the joint and hands it over to the Fianna kin. “Here you go. You get the honor of first hit on this one.”

[Kyle] “Hey Bridget. Been around you know me.”
Grins at her as he leans back in the chair. His voice soft as usual as he looks at her to ensure she can read his lips.
“Would have bene here sooner but been helping a few guys out. Their drummer broke his hand and they had a performance to do tonight. How’ve you been doing?”
He then looks to Sarita and again that warm smile is given as he adjusts his top hat.
“Same to you. Having a fun night I hope?”

[Simon Zahradnik] Simon took another sip of his drink and his attention fell on Patrick. He waited quietly and he watched, and he waited, clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth in thought. Those green eyes were so full of bitter fury as he watched the man quietly. He didn’t speak for some time but his silence made certain the heat of his rage radiated off him like a furnace. He took in every word and each word spoken to him was mulled over within his skull.

What he was hearing was more than upsetting it was downright heretical. Still Simon wasn’t a Philodox so correcting that wasn’t his job, nor was he a Galliard. What he was, was an Ahroun. That alone stood for something to him if no one else.

“My deed name came from the fact I took a man apart… Bit by bit. With a pair of pliers and some other fucking house tools. Plucked, cut, and slowly separated him from his body while he screamed in agony for almost two hours before he died. Terrified and trembling in agony. He begged me… He begged me again and again to kill him, to show him the tiniest hint of humanity. He begged me to be the better man… The honorable man… He begged me to be the thing that he never was to anyone.”He shrugs his shoulders and then looks back at his drink.

“I got my name because I show my enemies the same respect they show the weak and helpless. I’m not a man Patrick, I am hell made flesh and mark my word before long the night sky will reek with the smell of burning traitors. Let them cackle and laugh all they please…”He lifts his drink to his lips and takes a sip as his eyes settle back on Patrick’s own.”Hell will soon reclaim it’s own.”

“I’m not here for you Patrick I am here for them and I will die fighting them. That is all there is to it.”

[Bridget Geroux] Sarita… catches Bridget off-guard with her offer. She blinks, then reaches into her back pocket for a lighter. While Kyle is speaking, Bridget listens, but her eyes drift to the Shadowlord. She flicks the flame into being and smolders the tip of the joint.

Not the classiest thing out there, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

She inhales, holds onto the smoke, and offers the joint out to whoever. She tries to close her eyes, but the things Simon is saying are going to give her nightmares. Images float up of the man–No, Monster– who has been so courteous and has even served her coffee like a civilized, even hospitable human being, talks about dismembering a dude with fucking house tools like it ain’t a thang.

There’s something about his Rage, his burning stare at Patrick, or about his voice that makes Bridget believe him absolutely. She remains quiet and shivers without realizing it before she nestles against Sarita again.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She grins in Kyle’s direction. “Having as much fun as a barrel of monkeys. Unfortunately, in this case the monkeys are rabid, emo little fuckers that managed to get out of the barrel and had too much to drink, so they’re getting pissy, shouting, stalking off and shit.”

She glances in Simon’s direction, rolling her eyes at his story. “Or telling long stories and being especially emo. We gotta do something to lighten the mood around here before an All-American Rejects concert breaks out. As it is, I think we’re about three eyeliner strokes and a little cutting short of a Fall-Out Boy opening act at the most. It’s condition-fuckin’-critical.”

[Kyle] Smirks as he raises a brow and looks at Sarita.
“Well that’s no good. So do we need to play a game of twister or do we need to pick up the tempo of the music playing tonight?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hey, don’t think I won’t. Bridget here was kickin’ some serious ass onstage with Patrick, but I am ~not~ afraid to get up there and bust out some bad-ass rhymes, Eminem-style.” Is she kidding? It’s kind of hard to tell, considering that she’s always grinning.

[Kyle] “So we going hip-hop or street base or do you have a specific request?”
That constant smile stays on his face as he stands and makes his way over to check on the instruments. Seeing what they had available to use.

[Simon Zahradnik] He hears Sarita and his eye twitches and his attention goes to his drink for a moment. He takes it and draws it to his lips taking a long drink before slamming it back on the table and standing.”Ridicule… Funny…”He says back to her with little more than contempt in his eyes.

He reaches into his pockets and pulls out his gloves, one by one he pulls each of them onto his hands.

“I suddenly find myself overtaken with an overwhelming feeling of disgust.”He says before turning his attention to Bridget.”Sorry I can only take so many insults and stomach so many cowards for one night. If you have another show I would love to come but I can’t stay here.”He says back to her before heading for the door. His hate bubbling up within him, raw seething contempt was all he felt right now.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She chuckles, watching Kyle walk over to the instruments. However, when Simon takes offense, she makes a sound like frustration. Not a growl–she’s not overtly angry, per se–more incredulous and annoyed. “┬íOh, por todo lo que es santo y profano en este mundo. ┬┐Est├ís bromeando?

She pats Bridget’s shoulder and gently but quickly extricates herself from under the kin’s head, rising to follow. “Dude. Seriously now, fucking STOP.”

[Kyle] And the spike of rage causes him to stop and simply stay out of the way. Absently watching as he keeps his eye on the situation. Waiting to get out of the way for good if needed

[Bridget Geroux] [Manip+Emp +PB. Dif +1 due to inebriation.]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 7)

[Bridget Geroux] The girl can do nothing to argue with Simon, so she merely sighs and looks defeated. Since her talk with Hunter, she’s been less bold with the Garou. She’d probably try to say something if he hadn’t just regaled on how he took a man apart with a pair of pliers.

That, and his Rage is enough to make her leery of even saying much. Finally, she sits back in the couch, looks to the ceiling, and sighs.

She draws a shaky breath before a pained sound emerges. While not over the top, her mouth is drawn in a pout that could stop any mortal man in his tracks. Does she know what kind of power she holds over them? Simon thought once. She probably doesn’t most of the time, but that fact makes it no less effective. Her mother was a Class A Heartbreaker (unbeknownst to her), and Bridget definitely has had something of those traits as her birthright.

“S’il vous pla├«t. Un instant de paix,” the Albertan reverts to her native Quebecois. The inflection of tone is soft, pleading without being desperate.

“Simon,” she continues. “You don’t have to go.”

She looks at him with those brown eyes and whether it is her expression or the marijuana that has her eyes somewhat glazed, it’s just…

Unfair.

The little unpretentious charmer could probably lull serpents to sleep or sly away diamonds from a jeweler with that sort of pout. The thing is, it doesn’t seem at all devious, because it likely isn’t.

[Simon Zahradnik] “Stop…”He says when she gives him an order. He stops and he turns around and looks directly into her eyes.”You can’t tell me to stop. In fact after that passive aggressive bullshit a second ago you are lucky I haven’t put your skull through a wall…”His fury is shining through as he approached her. So much fury in those eyes as he met her gaze directly. So much loathing and contempt.”You don’t have the right to give me orders.”He says as his body tenses and he rises up into his full height fully prepared to lash out at anyone who gets too close. He was a full moon… Whatever he might say with his mouth it was with his fists he expressed himself most clearly.

Bridget, however, gets more leeway. She knows him, he knows her… Watching her, seeing her, hearing her all of these things pull his eyes off Sarita and back towards her. Her voice and the look on her face did appear to have a somewhat soothing effect and he looked back into her eyes. He wanted to put someone through a wall… He wanted to smash someone’s face under a very very heavy brick… He wanted to crush and smash and destroy. he wanted to unleash his fury like the primal force of nature he was meant to be. Yet he couldn’t… Because Bridget was pouting and it was fucking adorable! What a bitch!

“I came to listen to music… Not be insulted at every turn. If I had known this was the plan for the evening I would have opted out of showing.”He continues.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She doesn’t shy away from his stare, his fury or his words. For all that she’s a jokester–and make no mistake about it, she is–there’s something serious deep in those dark brown eyes. And, whether it indicates her insanity or not–she’s showing absolutely no fear as she returns the gaze. Her lips are still quirked upward in a faint smile.

“Listen. I don’t know who you are exactly, because we haven’t been introduced. My name is Sarita. But if we had been, you would know that I have a one storming-out per social event rule, and Howard beat you to the punch. And frankly, I am not willing to let you be unleashed on the world out there with the emotional state that you’re in, homeboy. So the way I see it, you have three options. A, you can sit down, realize that I meant no offense to you and was just trying to lift the mood and we can return to a state of semi-pleasantness. B, you can kick my ass and we can return to a state of semi-pleasantness. C, you can kick my ass and then leave.”

With that, she–wait, she didn’t, did she? Yes, she actually reaches out and puts her hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Leaving without any of those occuring? NOT an option.”

[Bridget Geroux] “But I–” Bridget is almost dumbstruck by his Rage. She may be a part-feral, purebred, adorable bitch, but she’s still human. She blinks, looking hurt for about half a second before she takes another hit from the joint she’s been holding.

Okay, that’s better.

“Simon, I’m sorry. How could I know it would be this way? I can’t do anything to stop you all when you’re like that.”

The thing is, Bridget knows that Killer brooding in the corner has the capabilty of being civilized, or at least doing a damn good show of pretending. Now she’s hoping to call him on it, let him remember that rather than getting violent or leaving, he has a third option to choose.

[Simon Zahradnik] However much calmer Simon might have been, the hand reaching out to settle on his shoulder brings out a flare of heated passionate fury in his eyes. Whatever she had said, whatever she had intended went out the window with the sudden and uninvited gesture. Simon was a wolf and she had just invaded his personal space… She was a Stranger, an unknown, and she was in his territory, among his people and now she was in his face putting her hand on his shoulder. His eyes met her own directly and oh how serious they were.

“Take… Your hand… Off my shoulder and back the fuck away.”That was said between his teeth, that was said in the deep and slow tone that implied there was quite a bit of concentration pushing though him just to maintain that state. He looked into her eyes with all the seriousness of a warrior who was not asking, he was not suggesting, he was telling.

He was doing his best to be civilized but these were not a civil folk. Wolves in sheep’s clothing… Or rather men’s clothing. They were playing at the game of being men and right now one of those wolves was invading another’s personal space.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She shrugs, her expression not changing, and the hand is removed. She doesn’t back down, and from her posture, the look in her eyes and so on, nothing has changed for her. But she gives him that courtesy out of respect. Even if she doesn’t know who he is, she knows that she took a step too far and there is still no fear in her.

“Sorry, Simon. Again, ain’t no offense meant. I wasn’t trying to get all up on your ass and light a fire. I still ain’t gonna let you step out in your state. Wouldn’t be right. So do what you gotta do. No foul, no offense taken. If beatin’ my ass for a bit will chill you the fuck out, I’m okay with that. But again I tell you–and believe me when I say this–you’re not walking out of here angry.”

She spreads her arms wide, fingers moving in to her palms a couple of times as if to say ‘bring it on.’

“So get to throwin’ your punches, or come sit down and have a drink with us. I really ain’t so bad once you get to know me. At LEAST thirty-seven percent of people I’ve ever met can vouch for that.”

[Bridget Geroux] Simon doesn’t respond. This is the call for Bridget to look to Kyle and get up off the couch very slowly. The wolves are about to have a spat and they’re scaring the kinfolk. Bridget pads backwards towards the raised aisle. The back of her legs bump into it. She’s still holding the joint, but she climbs up onto the aisle and tries to put a lot of space between herself and the Garou.

Her bare toes press against the smoothed fibers of the reclaimed wood while the fingers of one hand guide her to the door leading to the recording booth. She doesn’t say anything. It’s gotten beyond words at this point.

[Kyle] Kyle has stayed well out of the way. If he could pass through walls he doubted that would get him away from them. Seeing Bridget heading out of the way, Kyle makes his way around to follow her. Silly really that he’s in fact putting himself between Bridget and the true borns but he’ll mentally kick himself later. That casual smile thrown to Bridget letting her know things would be ok.

[Simon Zahradnik] Sarita speaks and he looked back at her as if she was speaking Chinese the entire time. He just watches her, quietly, looking her over from head to toe. Quiet and rigid… He was powerfully built and his stance showed that he knew well how to carry himself. Simon was, after all, a full moon and this much showed through in everything that he did. He blinked several times before drawing in a deep breath to calm himself.

He notes Bridget skulking back, he also notes the way Kyle protectively places himself between them. Simon was nothing if not brilliant at reading posturing and body language. It was one of the talents of the True Born though with Simon that talent seemed to shine through impressively.

It was watching Bridget shy away that affected him more than anything and his attention shifted once more back to Sarita. Before he sighed and stepped around her making his way back to the Mini Bar while shaking his head.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She blinks, her expression changing to one no one in this city has yet seen, except perhaps her half-sister Amy. The expression is shock. She obviously expected to be crawling back to the couch trying to hold her ribs together…and apparently, she would have been okay with that. She lowers her arms and turns around, the smile ratcheted up a couple of notches and makes her way back toward the couch. A sidelong look is thrown at Kyle and Bridget and she gives them a wink.

“You da man, Simon. Muchas gracias.” She smiles his way, the tone of her voice having lost its usual tease. The girl may be crazy, but she knows when to not push her luck. Aside from that though, there is honest gratitude in her voice. “Now, back to chilling out.”

[Llewelyn] [Let’s play where is Howard?

1-3 Alley
4-6 Bathroom
7-10 Somewhere else]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[Bridget Geroux] Bridget reaches out to Kyle with her eyes and gives each person in the room a long thoughful glance before she decides to drunkenly pad back over to the couch. She drops off the raised aisle onto the lounge inset floor, stops to get her balance.

Soon enough she passes over the remainder of the roach to Sarita and flops down on the couch beside her. The glazed bon bon finds a comfortable niche in the couch to chill the fuck out.

For the time being.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She takes the roach and gets a hit off it, holding it in for a good three seconds before letting the smoke curl out of her mouth and nose. Some of the tension that Sarita hadn’t noticed was there melts away, and she relaxes with a deep sigh. She rolls her head left and then right, a few popping sounds coming forth before she leans in to murmur quietly to Bridget, keeping it low so as not to carry past the couch.

“Sorry, chica…didn’t mean for shit to get intense. Better me than some poor shitbag on the street who didn’t have it comin’, y’know?” A little grin. “I mean…odds are, I have it comin’ for something I did.”

[Llewelyn] At some point after he’d lectured Simon about All The Ways Your War is FailÔäó by Patrick Llewelyn, the Galliard had gotten up off his plush little sofa and wandered downstairs in search of his oft-missing Alpha. You would imagine, given their level of connection that locating Howard could not possibly be so hard.

Clearly, if you deem this accurate, you do not know our characters that well at all.

It takes Patrick some time — minus a break to linger outside in the alleyway and smoke a joint — to track down the Theurge, when he does, he finds him in the strangest place imaginable. Or perhaps not, when Howard’s tendency toward long-spanned visits to said plumbed facility was taken into account. Patrick smacks a fist against each toilet stall in order downward from the sinks.

He gets two fuck offs! before saying in an ever so slightly dreamy voice.

“Howard Ivers, get your skinny ass out here.”

[Kyle] Good thing he’s already pale or people might worry since if he had colour in his cheecks they’d have washed out thatnks to the micro rage fest that just happened. Seeing everyone move back to being relaxed he removes the top hat he’s been wearing and tosses it over near his stuff before heading over to the bar himself. That warm smile still plastered on his face as he looks to Simon. When he speaks his voice is just above a whisper and sounds a little raspy.
“Hey I’m Kyle. Nice to meet you.”

[Ivers] The roar of water rocketing down the pipes, and Howard emerges from the stall moments later, buttoning his pants and staring at Patrick with a smile threatening to burst onto his lips. Whatever he was doing in there would probably have him arrested if he were to be caught; he sniffs, wipes at his nostrils with the back of his hand, and plants both of them on his slim hips.

“Oh look at you,” he says, his voice marveling, “you’re so stoned.”

He wanders right into the Galliard’s space, leaning closer to inspect his eyes for redness or glazing, then reaches up to pop the collar on Patrick’s shirt, the action strangely loving considering he follows it up with a playful slap to Patrick’s cheek and a gum-chewing grin. Given how fat the moon has become he ought to know better.

“Last time I gave one of those meatheads the ole big-word-‘twat’ combo I couldn’t walk right for the rest of the night. Made out pretty good that time, yeah?”

[Simon Zahradnik] When he returns to the group he has a glass in hand. Half of which he has downed already. His eyes go to Bridget and then to the others. He stops, however, long enough to acknowledge Kyle and present his hand out to him.”Simon.”He says back to the somewhat shy lookin’ guy. Likely not a True Born… Not enough balls, but that wasn’t so bad. After Howard’s little speech Simon almost welcomed his company.

He then hears Howard and his eyes close a second or two as he draws in a few breaths. Then looks down at Bridget.”I didn’t intend to fuck up your get together.”He was apologizing not to anyone else. In fact he still looked like he could punch someone, but he felt it was appropriate to extend the little gesture back to the kin. If nothing else to ease her fears and worry.

[Llewelyn] Patrick stoned is not so vastly different from Patrick sober, only the stoned version tended to smile more frequently and cared less for controlling his mouth when it came to — well, everything. Howard comes out of the stall buttoning his pants and staring at Patrick, and his pack-mate stares back at him with raised brows. The expression is comically demanding until his Alpha tells him how stoned he is and loosens his black shirt.

It’s long sleeved, and pressed to perfection; though by this point of the evening it’s starting to rumple.

Patrick smacks away the cold hand that slaps his cheek; and grabs Howard by the scruff of his neck, forcefully walking him to the sinks. “Wash your goddamn hands you dirty fuck.” It’s as playful as the slap, and Patrick lets loose his pack-mate without causing him any harm but a few tugged out hairs.

With the amount he had, Gaia knew he could spare a few to rough housing.

Patrick leans against the sinks while he washes up, arms crossed over his chest, a smirk laying heavy over his lips; another stoned feature typically absent. “Yeah, try it now after I told him again how the war sucked.”

[Ivers] It’s almost a given at this point that Howard will shriek if he’s grabbed or punched and the effort does not result in grievous injury: it’s a truncated, quiet sound meant to convey false alarm, and he is easily marched over to the row of sinks despite his height advantage and Patrick’s fuzzy perception of the world around him. Once at their destination Howard sniffs again, then stares at the sink for several seconds before spinning the hot water tap and lazily rinsing his hands, which tremble slightly.

Before he can be reprimanded, he pumps soap into his left palm and scrubs both of his hands. It doesn’t last nearly as long as medical professionals insist upon in order to reduce the spread of bacteria, but he still makes the attempt.

“Again?” Howard asks. “Man, you tell him that story every fuckin’ time.” He rinses quickly. “Maybe you ought’a tell him you’re ready to be a–” Instead of paper towels, he wipes his hands on the empty seat of his pants. “–fine, upstanding–” A pause to flick residual moisture from his fingers. “–give-a-fuck member of the community, yeah? No more nay-sayin’. Bet he’d shit a fuckin’ crow.”

[Bridget Geroux] Simon does his best to be civil, to pass his Rage. It’s a struggle, and Bridget knows it. The expression on her face when he speaks to her with that edge of anger in his voice is somewhat like that of a deer in the headlights. A small thing that is keenly aware of a big thing.

That too, is adorable. The kicked puppy look is not something she gets very often, either. “You didn’t?” she replies quietly. “Nothing’s broken, no one’s bleeding. I think that calls for a toast.”

To that, the girl rises up again like Lazarus, grabs the rest of the whiskey, and pours herself another glass. This one will for sure push her down the sobriety staircase, but Gaia help anyone who tries to take it from her.

[Bridget Geroux] To Sarita, Bridget simply shakes her head. “No, I get it.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] There’s a smile to Bridget at when she says that she understands. She looks up at Simon as he approaches, rising to stand. It’s not an aggressive move at all; she’s not moving toward him, just getting to her feet. However he may take it…for her, it’s a sign of respect. And that’s not something that she extends very often. (Coincidentally, it does slightly happen more often when she has an Ahroun potentially pissed at her. Complete and total coincidence.)

“We should probably do official-like introductions. Sarita Echos-of-Laughter. Cliath No-Moon of Owl’s Brood. She holds out a hand to Simon. “No hard feelings?”

[Llewelyn] Patrick seems sincerely thoughtful on this point, a palm flashes to cover his chest in abject despair. “Oh no,” he laments with very little real sincerity. “Am I becoming repetitive in my mockery and loathing of everything we were created for?”

The eyes widen theatrically.

“The horror.”

The Galliard pushes Howard out the door, and then starts toward the stairs, leading them back up to what is, by this stage, no doubt a full blown party — or something god awful. Either way, Patrick’s guitar was up there and he’d be damned if he left without it. “C’mon, cheesedick, upstairs, if you’re real lucky the Shadow Lord will still be around to flirt with.”

He trumps up the steps noisily.

[Simon Zahradnik] He smiles a little back at Bridget and his head nods a little, he lifts his glass to Bridget and nods his head slowly. The full moon joined her in his toast then downed the rest of his glass. When his drink was finished his eyes fell back upon the Kin. Heavy was the weight of rage especially as his moon rapidly approached. Thinking straight got harder and harder, and it showed especially as the moon drew fuller and fuller.

Sarita pulls his attention away, and his eyes look her over.”Simon… Bone-grinder… Cliath, Ahroun grandchild of Thunder.”He says before eying her hand a moment then reaching out to take it gently enough and shake. She wasn’t so much the focus of his fury as others were. Their faces, their smug little grins, the kinds of grins that would take more than a fist to wipe away.

[Ivers] “You do tend to repe–whoa!

With a jolt, Howard stumbles forward, his sneakers squeaking on the tiled floor as he’s ushered towards the door. He bursts through without pausing to see if anyone will be knocked over, and when he tried to go for the door, Patrick shepherds him in the opposite direction: the stairs.

Whaaat,” he moans, as though this is the last place he wants to go right now.

All it takes is the last nine words to convince him to hustle his ass back up into the VIP lounge, where he reappears with about as much bustle and boisterousness as he had earlier, which is to say, not much at all. He had been almost quiet when he first appeared, as though he was afraid of startling a creature of a moon that grows exceedingly touchy this time of the month. A pause to look around, and Howard rolls his head on his neck, once, before approaching Simon.

This is probably going to result in his nose being broken. He just doesn’t fucking learn.

“Simon, man, I’m sorry. Truly, I am. What do you say we kiss and make up, yeah?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Her handshake is firm, far from ladylike. She nods a little, a bit of her good-natured mirth returning. “A pleasure and honor, Simon…”

The words trail off when she hears Howard and Patrick come up the stairs, and she quite literally facepalms as she heads Howard’s comment. It’s not tough to see that she’s not getting in the way of this particular ass-kicking. She’s not a peacemaker by nature, and calming down an Ahroun once is against her nature as it is. Doing it twice within the span of a few minutes? Not happening.

[Llewelyn] Patrick, coming in ahead of Howard is smiling, a strange sight in and of itself, when he steps to one side and flourishes the path toward Simon at Howard — all bets should have been well and truly off. He’s clearly not in his right mind, if ever he has been to date. Though generally, Patrick did tend to be the side of Caldera approached for more … rational answers.

Presently, the Galliard is leaning back on his heels and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at Bridget.
Er, right.

[Simon Zahradnik] Simon blinked when he heard Howard. His eyes didn’t leave Bridget’s face, he tried to focus on her eyes. He tried to bite down on his own tongue for a second or two. He took the time to draw in his breath slowly, get his lungs nice and full before slowly exhaling. He tossed the ice around in his glass and looked down at it, before slowly turning to face Howard.

His eyes met Howard’s own, and he took that glass and held it a little closer to him, dumping the ice out at his feet.”I stepped out of my house this morning thinking to myself that today was going to be exactly like every other day and for the most part it was. If your hope is to infuriate me just a little more so I will beat the shit out of you once more… Forget it. Kicking your ass would mean I gave a flying fuck whether you lived or died. It would mean I gave a crap about your feelings or opinion. Kicking the shit out of you would imply you were worth raising my fist in anger.”He says with a shrug of his shoulders. His eyes met Howard’s own beautiful eyes(What? They are pretty!) and his lips curled into a little smile.

The words were spoken coldly and with such bitter contempt for the Theurge. He contained his rage, in fact just letting that out seemed to let out the steam.”Now if you will excuse me I need another drink.”He says once more to him before turning and walking away. Normally he wouldn’t present his back to someone he just insulted like that, but that too was it’s own little message. He didn’t even consider Howard a threat, and while that might not mean much to some any Shadow Lord would understand how deep an insult that was.

[Ivers] Anyone with a shred of shame, dignity, or self-respect would have been insulted or even hurt after what Simon said. He would have sat his ass down or turned around and walked out of there and made an effort not to cross paths with the Shadow Lord ever again. Heir of the Ruined Day has terrible impulse control and an even shittier sense of self-worth, but by god is he stubborn, and anyone who has known him as long as Bridget, or Simon, or Patrick, would be able to state with utter certainty that he just doesn’t know when to quit.

Simon starts off, giving his back to a creature who, were he taking his auspice role seriously, were he taking anything seriously, could have rained down any number of punishments upon him with the opportunity presented to him. There were not a great deal of Shadow Lords in Boston, or London, or wherever the fuck Howard was before either of those places, but he has to know the significance of one of Thunder’s grandchildren giving him his back.

Undeterred, without even pausing to do much more than execute an about face, Howard calls, “Infuriate you? Why would I want to infuriate you? You’re much cuter when you’re calm!” He starts after Simon, following him back to the bar if he has to. “Y’know, if I infuriate you, maybe you ought’a be askin’ yourself why that is, yeah?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Simon’s response to Howard draws an arching of her eyebrows, and a wide grin. “Nicely done,” she says to him. When Howard decides to push the issue, she rolls her eyes. “Hey, chico. You’re ruining a good party here, yeah? Dial it back down a bit, you mind?”

[Llewelyn] The Galliard’s flick to the Black Fury, he says easily, “Leave him be, he’s not going to do any harm,” a beat and the Welshman starts toward the sofa, and his guitar, to properly stow it.

“Unless Bone Grinder has any reason to be afraid of my pack mate.”

[Llewelyn] [Man, just [insert tribe here] I don’t even care any longer.]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Kinda completely missed the point there, but whatever.” She shrugs and goes to make herself a tequila sunrise.

[Simon Zahradnik] “A bee…”He says with a soft tone as he approaches the bar.”Is born, and it like does shit. It doesn’t really know why I was born, it doesn’t ask. It was born and it does as is needed for all the other bees and a little while later it dies. In its entire life it processed as much in its tiny little brain as you think every second. Yet that bee stood for something. It believed in something and it might have very well died for that thing… That stupid fucking thing that meant absolutely nothing to any of us cause we just wanted her honey.”

“It’s funny… Cause I’m thinking on it just a minute ago. About the world and all the terrible things in it. Like Black Spiral Dancers.”He says this with a little smile.”You know traitors… They’re turned their backs on everything they believe in. They’ve forsaken everything and everyone in favor of their alien agenda. Yet even they are deserving of a brutal, painful, terrified screaming death. Cause at the very least they have the balls to stand up for something… Forsaken or not at the very least they hold on to something that you know… Means something to them.”He shrugs as he reaches the bar.”They fight for their hive…”

“I think it’s funny cause I mean… I don’t really like… Even pity the terrible disgusting thing you have become. Because you’re not even willing to fight for your fucking honey. You just bounce around in life callin’ people names until they drive your ass off for being a prick.”He pours his drink and tosses a couple more ice cubes in the glass.

He then presents the glass to Howard as well as a smile.”I don’t have to ask myself why you infuriate me… Because for all that everything inside your brain you don’t even have the dedication of an insect. You’re like a little mosquito buzzing around my face only you don’t even have legs or a stinger or wings… You’re more like a really loud earthworm.”He says with an almost warm little smile.

[Llewelyn] “Oh, yeah?” He snaps, the Galliard, not his moon, his personal moon, but the Gibbous none the less in the sky outside, at the Strider female. He’s stoned and his capacity for bullshit is at an all time low. “What was the point, then? That he should hold his tongue so you and Bridget here can play dress up some more about not being a),” a gesture at her, “a Monster in woman’s skin and b),” at Bridget, “in denial of pretty much everything?”

He snorts; snapping shut the locks on his guitar case and lifting it up, setting it against a wall.

“I’d rather be the asshole that ruins the fantasy, sorry to say.”

Then — then, there’s Simon’s speech to Howard and Patrick’s Rage — on a dull to middling simmer all night sparks and ignites. He walks up to the Ahroun and shoves him, without preamble. “Stop fucking presuming you know everything about us, Ahroun!”

He’s shouting, abruptly.

[Hunter] Hunter is late.

Not that kind of late, he doesn’t do shark week, he has a penis. But he is late for the jam night. So late in fact that he’s missed it completely. Except he doesn’t know this of course. He doesn’t know it when he comes stomping up the stairs with something disgustingly resembling a kazoo in his hand. It’s shiny blue, like the kind of blue that a stripper wears. It has sparkles on it.

He blows it loudly, puts it in his mouth and toots the descending melody for Rainy Day Women no 12 & 35.

br brp brp brrP Dooooooooooooo doooooooo doooooo dooo

[per+1dif]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 3, 7 (Failure at target 7)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She pauses, turning around and giving him a look. That ever-present grin of hers grows, to something approaching maddening levels…maddening both for others around and for her as well. She turns around from making her drink, leaving the half-finished sunrise on the bar. The effect will be ruined by the time she gets back. She makes a slow walk to Patrick, eyes not shying away from him, and something shifts in her, subtly. Without any noticeable or quantifiable change, she’s distinctly less human now. And she doesn’t stop walking until her face is inches away from Patrick’s, her finger coming up to rest on the hollow of his throat.

“And don’t you presume,” she purrs, there something distinctly threatening in the amused tone of her voice. “…to know a single thing about me, Patrick. It’ll be the worst fucking mistake of your life. Comprende?”

[Ivers] He doesn’t have a chance to offer a witty, homoerotic retort to what Simon just said to him. The fact that it took him so long, and so many words, to build up to calling Howard annoying and yet not even worth paying the slightest bit of attention to would only serve as a contradictory counterpoint to everything that the Shadow Lord has said just now, and though the green eyes that Simon finds so pretty are hidden by dark black sunglasses, the light in the room high enough that he would be rendered useless if he were to take them off. No one can tell, exactly, whether he’s stricken or distraught or hernia-provokingly amused.

Drawing a breath to respond, Howard is jostled out of the way by his brother, the buzz of the cannabis not enough to take the edge off of his Rage tonight.

Oi!!

Up the stairs comes Hunter, tooting away at his kazoo, as Howard darts between the shorter yet considerably deadlier Garou and puts a hand out on either side of him, not touching the Galliard or the Ahroun but prepared to–attempt to–push either of them back should they come at each other again.

At which point Sarita gets in Patrick’s face.

The Theurge groans, then drops his arms.

“What’s with all the fuckin’ cock waving? Christ!” He points at Simon. “That was the sweetest fuckin’ thing anyone’s ever said to me.” He points at Sarita. “You need to calm your tits.” He points to Patrick. “You… you.”

And then he sees Hunter, towards whom he bolts.

[Llewelyn] His fingers reach out, snap lock around that finger.

“Then make it the last one I make,” he (begs) taunts; his eyes dilated with drugs and adrenaline and Rage. “Finish me off, c’mon. I won’t even fight back.” He spreads his arms wide, beating his chest once at both the Shadow Lord and the Strider. Howard begins to — and then doesn’t — and Patrick’s voice catches in his throat, turning hoarse.

“He isn’t gonna stop you. Do it. Obliterate me.” He pants.

[Hunter] The horrible tune from the kazoo comes to an abrupt halt, dying off in a quick, wallowing and disheartening shriek that ends with a rather depressing sad little

toot!

He removes the ‘instrument’ from his mouth when Howard starts talking and puts it in his pocket. Something is definitely wrong here, tempers are high. Anger is almost palpable in the stale bar air. Patrick starts telling people to obliterate him and Howard starts running in Hunters direction.

He crosses his arms over his chest and frowns.

“The fuck??!”

[Simon Zahradnik] “You know my mom was a pretty tough lady. I used to whine about things and she would tell me to suck it up and accept it. She was one hardcore bitch… Then one day about this time last year I earned the rank of Cliath.”He shrugs his shoulders.”When that happened she cried for the first time in my life. Cause for all her hardcore tough love bullshit she was still a mom and her baby boy was about to go off and get his ass killed for some stupid war she never understood. But even she knew that this was who I was, and like it or not this was how things would be.”He says sideways to Patrick, his voice was almost soft.

Howard’s response gets a little smirk and he watches him walk away. A slight smirk taking shape as he makes his way away. He doesn’t bother to say anything more. He looks at Sarita and he smiles as he looks at Patrick.”Do not suffer thy people… Tend to thy sickness.”He mutters softly at the man in a dark and cold tone. He was not a Half Moon. In fact no Half Moon was present. In fact! IF EVER there was a Time for a Half Moon to be present it should be right now. He was simply reminding the Galliard.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] The shift in the dynamic is so sudden, Sarita practically gets whiplash. She rolls with the punches easily, though, and just shakes her head. “I said worst mistake. I didn’t say last. I ain’t that nice.” She puts her hand on his chest and pushes him, gently, backward toward Hunter and Howard.

“I also don’t do suicide by Sarita, and you aren’t that good of a goader. Go…best you get out of here. You can thank me…well, probably never, but I ain’t used to being thanked, so you won’t be hurting my feelings none.”

[Ivers] As he’s done several times before, Howard tears ass towards Hunter and then uses him as a shield between himself and the rest of the world. His outfit is, in all likelihood, the worst one Hunter has seen him wear yet: sneakers, seafoam-green pants, an orange vintage Reese’s cup t-shirt, that blue-and-black plaid scarf that matches nothing he owns, and his leather jacket. When he claps his hands on Hunter’s shoulders, it’s the thickness of his jacket that keeps him from feeling how cold Howard’s hands are.

The fuck??!

His left arm stretches over Hunter’s shoulder, continuing to point as he explains what the fuck’s going on.

Simon. “I pissed him off–”
Sarita. “She’s snarkin’ up a storm–”
Patrick. “He’s stoned–”
Simon. “He thinks I’m cute–”
Sarita. “The Great Cuntrag Shortage of 2011 takes another victim–”
Patrick. “I’m about ninety-nine percent certain he’s tryin’ to commit suicide without actually havin’ to do it himself.”

At which point Sarita pushes his brother back in their direction. Howard sighs, quick and loud, and lets go of Hunter’s shoulders with a harsh sniff. For the first time… well, likely ever, Howard gives Patrick a command that leaves very little room for argument, if one is willing to ignore the fact that Patrick could beat Howard’s ass in a heartbeat.

C’mere!” he says, in a hoarse stage whisper, waving his arm. His tone, though his volume is disastrously low, has an edge to it that none present have ever heard before.

[Llewelyn] “My sickness is simply that I don’t want to fight for what you do,” the Fiann says, still panting, sweat dripping from the ends of his hair.

“You all… you just don’t want to stop and think that maybe, maybe I’m not fucking sick. I just don’t agree with with your principles. God forbid those chosen by Gaia stop and think for themselves.” He mutters, and as Sarita pushes at his chest he swings, grabbing up his jacket and guitar.

“I’m so gone.”

He confirms, and glances at Howard as he passes and he hisses c’mere in actual challenge.

Patrick keeps walking, down the stairs.

[Hunter] Hunter listens to Howard with a face that changes emotions rapidly. RAPIDLY.

I pissed him off — Orly? Feigned surprise.
She’s snarkin’ up a storm — Don’t be a dickhead Howard
He’s stoned — Contemplative.
He thinks I’m cute — Sigh. Ugh.
The great cuntrag.. — HOWARD!
Ninety-nine percent — Concern.

And the concern stays there when Patrick ignores his Alpha’s commands. Truth be told, Hunter Matthews doesn’t really care what happened at the bar now, he looks at Simon, looks at Sarita, sees no threat. His attention goes back to Patrick and Howard.

“You gotta’ make em do it man.. one way or another..” He says the words like he doesn’t really want to have to say them to Howard, but feels it’s necessary.

[Bridget Geroux] Like Lazarus, the Fianna kin suddenly takes a sharp breath in and sits upright. A few adorable blinks and wide doe-eyed looks around the room causes the Canadian to grimace. A blink pushes back emotionless tears– her eyes are watering from the case of Drunk.

“Jesus! the young woman cries, it’s not pained, but soft and high pitched.

“I can’t leave you guys alone for a second! What’s going on? Why is Caldera here, and Hunter?”

It’s damn adorable, that fucking Canadian bitch. She rubs her eyes and frowns.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She spins around and tenses, reacting to the exclamation from Bridget like it was a gunshot. When she sees and hears Bridget, all the residual hostility she may have carried and what was left of that other-than-human look she had flits away. She puts on a smile and sighs. There’s something about the kin being conscious that certainly invokes that change.

“No worries, chica. Things just got a bit intense. We’ll be good boys and girls, promise.” She heads toward the minibar. “Who needs a fuckin’ drink?” And she raises her hand. “That’s right…I do, I do!”

[Simon Zahradnik] He keeps his smile as Patrick speaks now. He watches quietly and he shrugs his shoulders.”Believe what you like… I am honestly past the point of caring. I put my life on the line because I believe in something. You choose not to believe in that thing. That’s cool it just means I can be a little more selective on who I put my ass on the line for.”He says with a nod of his head as Patrick storms out.”Night princess!”

He then turns his attention to Bridget.”I think they are leaving.”He says before giving a little smile.”Well I can’t speak for Hunter. You wanna stay man? Grab a drink?”He asks the Full moon, inviting him in. Hunter was… Well he didn’t know him well but one Full Moon can respect another usually.

[Ivers] This is the longest any of them have known Howard where he has been absolutely silent for this long.

Patrick not only doesn’t C’mere but he keeps right on walking, carrying his guitar case and his jacket without stopping to collect his Alpha, and Howard just watches him, skinny shoulders slumped, hands at his sides, lips parted as though he’s attempting to find the words but can’t get them to line up properly. There’s the totemphone, of course, but he utilizes that far less frequently than he utilizes, say, prophylactics or language appropriate for all audiences, and he’s silent there, too.

It’s shock. He’d joked about it, had tried to make light of it, but having Patrick walk away from him like this doesn’t seem to have any previous mapping in his brain. It isn’t as though they’re in the living room, or the common room, and he’s storming off to their bedroom after Howard has sufficiently annoyed him. He just attempted to goad two Garou from other tribes into obliterating him, and then ignored what was, effectively, an order.

With his back to the room, his attention on the empty space where his brother was a moment ago, when he answers Hunter he doesn’t attempt to hide, at first, the fact that he’s confused.

“I can’t… I’m not…”

A hand goes to his forehead, kneads the wrinkle-free flesh there, and then the realization that there isn’t a single person in this room who he hasn’t pissed off in the last twenty-four hours strikes him. He draws a breath, effectively pulling it together.

“The fat fuck just can’t handle his weed, is all,” Howard says, his voice a degree of cheerful that is so forced it bears no resemblance to his typical brand of not-a-single-fuck-given speech; he even adds a forced Hah, hah! as though it’s in the script and he just doesn’t feel the damned line during this particular rehearsal.

Without waiting for anyone else to speak, he starts after Patrick.
Unlike every other time this has happened, he doesn’t shout for him.

[Hunter] Hunter stands there looking at Howard, he sees the confusion, the hesitation and Hunters face falls. He shakes his head slowly and after a few moments he just claps the Theurge on the shoulder, gives him a friendly smile.

“Good luck.” And it sounds sad.

He can’t follow, he can’t help him, what would be the point? He has to do it himself, and if he can’t do it himself then he shouldn’t be the one giving orders.

Howard bolts out after Patrick and Hunter looks around the rest of the room. He sees Bridget, gives her a wave. “Guess I’m late ye? Shit. Night ladies. Oh you too Simon.” He sighs, gives a wave of his hand and then he’s heading back out. He won’t stop to find the Caldera’s, he won’t stop even if he walks right into them.

Home time.

[Bridget Geroux] It’s her own party and people don’t even say goodbye to her. Bridget is, however, strangely used to this. It doesn’t surprise her, but she does continue to blink and pout in her semi-conscious state. The poor kinfolk whose party was kind of ruined like a friggen tantrum of 6th graders from both sexes who have reached puberty just waves her hand at Caldera… you know… like they’re actually looking or like it matters at all.

“Bye guys.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She picks up the tequila sunrise, sighing as she sees that, indeed, the sunrise has already faded away. She swirls the liquid in the glass a little bit, mixing it all the way, and then heads over to sit down next to Bridget. “I’m sorry. Here I thought I’d made the whole thing better for half a second, and then it took a huge, Greg Louganis-style dive. Horrific head-smack and all…in a metaphorical way, anyway.” She looks at the kin, her expression apologetic.

[Bridget Geroux] It takes a few more minutes for the Canadian to actually wake up. She might go after them if she was privy to that whole Harano-filled tirade. No, she definitely would go after them if she knew about it.

Things being as they are, she doesn’t. Bridget wakes up bleary-eyed, gets up, goes over to the plate of finger food. The plate gets brought over to the couch and set onto the coffee table before her. She’s still drunk, so it’s slightly less graceful than she thinks.

“This sucks,” she mumbles. “If shit is always this dysfunctional everywhere but home, it’s no wonder you guys keep saying the world is ending.”

She doesn’t mean anything smart-assed by it. It’s wisdom from the Bottle that every one of the guests so far has indulged too heavily in.

“Can’t even… fucking… jam. I mean, goddamn.”

[Simon Zahradnik] He waves to Hunter and then glances at Bridget. He frowns a little and just watches her quietly and seemed to look like he wanted to say something. He even opened his mouth to start to talk once, and then a second time, and then a third. He holds up his hand then looks around. Then finally back to her.”You can’t umm… Jam… On your own?”He asks softly and so very cautiously. He wasn’t a musician and didn’t realize how stupid this question was. He didn’t realize there would be multiple people performing here. He just thought he was here to see Bridget and probably a few others!

[Bridget Geroux] [Cha+Perf+PB. Dif +2 drunk. Keep posting, I just want to know what I need to start typing.]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Bridget Geroux] [Well fine. -2 dice then]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She smiles, a sadder smile than she’s usually seen with. “You know…” She takes a drink of the cocktail, then sets it down before turning on the couch to face Bridget. “I grew up without any connection to all this shit. My father…more or less a one night stand with my mother. That kind of thing is fairly common among my tribe. You’re on the road a lot, you don’t really get into a lot of committed relationships, you know?”

Her words aren’t said with any bitterness. A trace of sadness, perhaps, but it’s faint and more for what she had and no longer does than what she never got the chance to experience. “Turns out, Esteban had a whole other family. Kinda makes him a shitty guy, in a lot of people’s opinion. He knew about me–they all knew about me–but I knew nothing about them until after my mom died and I had my First Change. I’ve had a lot of time since then, but I’ve really always felt like I had an outsider’s perspective, since I spent all those so-called formative years knowing nothing about all of us, and all of this.”

She pauses, thinking a moment. “There’s some fucked-up shit about the nation, and yes, there’s a lot of dysfunction. There are people I want to beat the tar out of sometimes…my own sister among them, and even a few people I’ve met here. But you know that all of that aside…we’re still a family. An enormous, seriously fucked-in-the-head family that sometimes tries to kill each other, but a family nonetheless. And when the chips are well and truly down, most of us will always have each other’s backs.” She looks at Simon and grins. “Hell, if I can end up on the same semi-side as this guy, anything can happen.” She throws him a wink, then looks back at Bridget. “Don’t get down. You’ll have your chance to jam…sometime soon, I bet.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [GO GO Gadget-Manip+Emp+PB!]]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Helps if I properly type the number in]]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) [WP]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[One More ’cause I’m dumb!]]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3 (Failure at target 6)

[Bridget Geroux] To this, Bridget simply sighs and blinks. Simon doesn’t get it, but that’s fine. Sarita makes a pretty convincing argument, which inspires her to play. She clears her throat, looking quite serious while she searches for her harmonica, fingers floating through the crevices of the couch. Alas, it is there.

She holds it up to the dim light, then polishes it off with the corner of her shirt and brings it to her mouth. She starts playing. It is a pretty good job, but her heart just isn’t in it like it was before when she was playing beside a member of her Tribe, without tempers flaring through the room.

The song that starts is Wayfaring Stranger, and it is pretty convincing to the Garou. Bridget herself doesn’t hear it quite the same. She can’t see herself, so she feels disappointed with her own notes. She smirks when the soulful traditional melody is done.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] The song strikes a particular chord in Sarita who seems clearly familiar with it. She smiles a tiny bit, silent as she watches and listens. When the song is done, she tilts her head a bit to the side. “Interesting song choice, chica. And nicely done.”

[Simon Zahradnik] He listens at first to Sarita and then he looks at Bridget wondering what she is thinking. He is quiet for some time and he just watches her standing still and quiet as he listens quietly and pauses just to think. She was a beautiful creature and just watching her perform was pleasure enough on its own. He is quiet and respectful and he let her have her performance before giving a little smile.

“We’re not a family… Not right now.”His eyes said he was thinking about other things. He was thinking about many things, and his eyes seemed to stare off just Past Bridget as a bittersweet smile showed.”We’ll get there… One way or another we’ll get there.”His tone was somber and somewhat annoyed. Even Bridget’s song couldn’t erase the pang of guilt that rolled through him as he settled back into a seat and wondered what the pair of Garou was up to.

Simon was still young. Still full of ideals, and hope… That little spark that this war could still be won still glowed within him. He could be cold and brooding now and again but the innocence of youth, that misguided sense of wonder still showed through now and again.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She gives a suffering sigh, leaning back across her side the couch and letting her head fall backward over the armrest, so that she’s looking at Simon upside down. “Look at that…the Strider No-Moon and the Shadow Lord Full-Moon disagree on something. Someone get a Galliard, this rare occurrence needs to be transcribed into the Silver Record.”

Again, the words are gently teasing instead of having any malice behind them, the tone entirely good-natured. “Next thing you know, a Fury and Fenrir might start fighting, or a Fang might condescend to a Bone Gnawer.”

[Simon Zahradnik] He shakes his head.”It’s not that it’s… Something else. I’m just… You know. Being my usual asshole self.”He says softly even giving a little smile.”No you are right somewhere in the end we need to be able to depend on one another.”He sighs.”I’m just being, thinking stuff it’s complicated.”

[Bridget Geroux] Simon watches Bridget’s performance with his intense method of admiration. He wonders what she’s thinking. It’s difficult to read, perhaps because of her concentration, her current level of sobriety, or even because she’s too moonbrained to ever have one thought at any given time.

The song mentions family, so of course her thoughts stray there. Her father and his big hands, the sound of his voice, the way he taught her everything. The mother she believes is dead, who she doesn’t remember at all except in photos and the way her father’s voice pinched and strained when he thought of her. The stiffness in Meuric’s demeanor when he thought of Lily, the way he could communicate without words all his heartache.

Bridget is thinking about the lovely black woman in Toronto who she distinctly remembers taking care of her when she was very young. She vaguely remembers the faces of Mama Gayle and her foster children. She remembers Mama Gayle’s voice, remembers the kinfolk nanna’s lullabies, the way she sang the kids to sleep. She called the little wayward Fianna girl blackbird.

Bridget is thinking about how much she misses the deep mountains, the clear air, the thrill of hunting in the wilderness with a set of wolfish eyes watching her prey on rabbits and deer. The warmth of furry bodies in a winter dogpile, the smell of Wolves. These are all childhood memories, so she doesn’t remember the fighting, the negative.

Lastly, Bridget is wondering whether she will ever find a place where she feels at home. Even with her fellowship sisters, there is a virtual abyss between them sometimes. She wonders if she’s ever going to settle down (even though she doesn’t want to). She wonders if there’s going to be a point when Caldera leave and take a piece of her with them. If Simon is going to do the same somehow. And what of her fellowship sisters? They all have lives to return to when their time in Chicago is done…

Just like Bridget does. Did she ever think this was going to be permanent? Why then get attached to anyone? Is this why Howard pushed her away, basically? All these and more flash through the kinfolk’s mind in a matter of short minutes.

The kinfolk lowers her head in deep respect to each of her two audience members. She sets the harmonica down and picks up those two spoons again. She clanks them back and forth, trying to think of something. It takes a moment before anything comes to her. A succession of clinks and clanks and rattling noises come out before her eyes light up.

“Hey, this is a jam. So I’m eliciting your participation. C’mon.”

She starts clicking the spoons and tapping her feet to a certain beat, looking at the two of them to see if the Upside Down Ragabash and the slumping Ahroun will pick up on it. If they don’t, that’s their deal. She will continue with the song anyway.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She smiles a little bit when Bridget calls for some audience participation, and she sits back up. “Silly rabbit.” She has no training with musical instruments…when she was 15, she had her legs pretty persistently wrapped around a singer/guitar player who thought he was the next Kurt Cobain and she picked up a trick or two from him, but that’s the last time she touched one. Still, she has been known to be able to follow a beat from time to time and she kicked ass playing Rock Band in a Best Buy once–until she had to run away for smashing the guitar against the ground at the end of her performance, anyway–so she’s not afraid to get involved. She starts to tap out the beat on her leg that Bridget is setting, the smile widening as she does.

[Simon Zahradnik] Simon wasn’t exactly feeling like making a fool out of himself by showing his total lack of musical talent but there was still guilt there. After all he did kinda ruin Bridget’s evening. So as the beat starts he does the best to join in with his own foot and hands. Tapping his foot and bringing his hands together.

[Bridget Geroux] The song goes on with a sort of chant feel. Bridget teaches children’s music lessons, so leading the two of them along is not overly difficult. Her bare foot slaps against the foor with the same rhythm, while the spoons vary a bit to polish up the chant a bit.

Eventually, she will chime in with some singing. It is light, soft, slow. The perfect ending song to this little fucked up shindig to end on a somewhat positive note.

“Why you wanna fly blackbird you ain’t ever gonna fly.
No place bif enough for holding all the tears you’re gonna cry
Cos your mama’s name was lonely and your daddy’s name was pain.
And they call you little sorrow cos you’ll never love again.”

A long stretch of the song goes between this and the next portion.

“So why you wanna fly blackbird you ain’t ever gonna fly.
You aint got no one to hold you you ain’t got no one to care.
If you’d only understand dear nobody wants you anywhere.
So why you wanna fly blackbird you ain’t ever gonna fly.
You ain’t ever gonna fly.”

At this the song tapers off and Bridget slows with the spoons until she stops altogether.

[Bridget Geroux] [And they jam into the wee hours of the uneventful morning.

End scene!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Yay! Thanks for scenes!]]

The Owl Girl Meets The Mack Daddy and Others

[Adamidas]
Pop.

flush.

Water runs, then shuts off. The Black Fury walks out of the bathroom as though nothing ever happened.

[Hunter]
Hunter isn’t exactly a large man, but standing next to Howard Ivers he looks like a veritable wall. He could keep out Mongolian raiders if he wanted to. Whilst Howard is taller, Hunter is stocky, but they both have green eyes and they both smile far too often to be healthy.

“I think ya’ got’em mixed up a bit, this one’s the big mouth.”

[Howard]
One would think that that storm cloud moving over Remy’s features was the achromat’s version of a ray of sunlight bursting through the clouds the way the hipster breaks into a grin as he ambles over to the table. For someone who looks and oftentimes smells as though he doesn’t bathe with any regularity, who is rarely without some sort of burning herb in hand, he has well-cared-for teeth.

Where’s his bigmouthed packmate. The Fiann extends his right arm until his wrist pops out from beneath the sleeve of his leather jacket and consults the back of his wrist. There isn’t a watch there; he stares at it for a few seconds anyway, then returns his hand to his hip with something of a flourish.

“Probably writin’ a sad song on his guitar and havin’ himself a cry,” he says.

Hunter thinks he got them mixed up. Howard shakes his head.

“Nah… I’m the loudmouth. Very easy to mix up, especially if…” He turns to the table. “True story: I caught this fucker walkin’ around with two left shoes on the other day.”

[Tabitha Reese]
Tabitha laughs loudly all of a sudden, hand clasped over her mouth to stop it as she elbows Tala. “Stop!”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“I’m not doing anything. I’m sitting here, Tabby.” She shakes her head and sighs.

[Tabitha Reese]
“You’re a goddamned liar.” She elbows Tala again, then looks up to the two men. “Hey. How are ya?”

[Hunter]
“I only got one pair’a a shoes you simple fuck.” Hunter says, snatches out a chair from a nearby table and pushes it with the back facing towards their table. He straddles it with his elbows resting on it.

“I’m Hunter, and I’m good thanks.” He says, eyes flicking between the occupants of the table. “This fuck here,” and he throws a thumb over his shoulder and turns.

“Is Howard.” He saves the insults, Howard proves how much of a dumbass he is without any help.

[Tabitha Reese]
“Tabitha” She hides her hands in her pockets again, nodding to her packmate. “This is Tala. We’re new.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Hi.” She looks the two over, not bothering to conceal it as she sizes them up.

[Howard]
“And it sounds like you’re thinkin’ about one of us naked,” he says. He looks between Hunter and Remy, then jerks a thumb at the Fenrir. “It was him, wasn’t it?”

[Hunter]
“Well we know it wasn’t you Howard, that’s for sure.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Maybe not so much naked as on fire.” She offers Remy another charming smile.

[Remy]
Now, all things considered, Remy’s been more or less easygoing tonight. Sure, he laid down the law so far as his kin was concerned. Sure, he turned around and smacked said kin upside the head. Sure, he seems to have no social graces whatsoever, or at least pretends that’s the case — but the teasing between Fenrir and Fury tonight has, on the whole, been of the friendly-ribbing sort.

That sort of changes when Howard and his big buddy approach. Something in the young Fenrir’s face tightens down. He sits back in his chair, a sort of exaggerated and deliberate broadening out of his physical presence that claims the air around him, the space around his feet.

“Why don’t you two jokers quit pretending we’re friends and take your comedy show on the road,” he says. “If the bulldykes here want to join you that’s their call. But I got here first and I don’t much want to eat my sandwich looking at your pipsqueak faces.”

[Howard]
“‘Bull… dy…'”

Howard turns to Hunter and drops into a crouch rather than sitting. When he speaks, it’s in an exaggerated stage whisper.

“I don’t speak Ignorant Twat, what’s a bulldyke?”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Oh for fuck’s sake. We are NOT fucking.”

[Remy]
“It’s a woman that doesn’t want to fuck you on principle,” Remy replies instantly, almost lazily, “and not just because your face looks like a kicked-in pile of horse shit. You noisy little cunt. Get lost.”

[Howard]
“Alright, alright, don’t get your knickers in a twist, Prettyboy,” he says, holding up a hand in a lopsided Don’t shoot gesture.

[Hunter]
Hunter is amused, he really is amused. He might not be so amused if the two females he is calling bulldykes weren’t Garou. They can take care of themselves. Hunter would like to see Remy call Joey Oliver a bulldyke. As it stands he is trying his best but then Howard has to go and be Howard, and it comes out.

“pffffffftttttttttt.” Air escaping as he laughs with a look of Oh shit on his face.

“Didn’t ya’ say he don’t like that Howard?”

[Remy]
Remy’s eyebrows hop up on his forehead. Then he pops down the last of his sandwich — and might we add that even with a mouth full of half-chewed food, through which he lets out one of the fouler belches of the century, he’s still pretty enough to turn the heads of two college girls across the room — and dusts his hands off.

“Okay, pipsqueak,” he says, food-muffled. “You asked for it.”

[inits!]

[Izzy Montoya]
Speaking of noisy little cunts… [Ok, not really, but it seemed like a good enough line to steal.]

The door opens, as doors do when nudged from one side or the other, and she stalks in like she owns the joint. She doesn’t, of course. She walks into most places like that – it’s all in the attitude. She pulls off her gloves and stalks to the counter, and orders her coffee – hot and black, just like she likes her… well. Coffee.

Her features are strong, her breeding pure, her blood that of Viking Heroes. Her hair dark and longish, her eyes dark, her smile non-existent. She is lean – and by the looks of the bags under her eyes that have luggage of their own – exhausted.

[Howard]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9
Oops.

“Oh, shit,” he intones, trying not to laugh even in the face of an impending ass-kicking. Even though he’s several inches taller than Remy, the term ‘pipsqueak’ isn’t entirely a misnomer: the Fenrir has somewhere in the neighborhood of seventy pounds on the Fiann, and it’s all muscle. Thrusting the coffee into Hunter’s possession, Howard says, “TellPatrickIlovehim” and turns to run.

[+7!]

[Adamidas]
This is where a Fostern should really… really… really give some semblance of a shit about what was going on. She steps way from the bathroom door, and the corner with all the banter and one very Attractive Rage-o-holic draws her attention. She is the spiritual equivalent of jet lagged. Her head is swimming, and her eyes come in to focus just in time to see a fight break out.

Her hands go to her hips. Attire is comfortable. Jeans with holes (air conditioning she insists), tights (because it’s still developmentally appropriate for her to believe that tights with jeans are cool) and a hooded sweatshirt. The Fury carries a messenger bag with her. She shrugs her shoulders and wanderes towards the fray.

Literally, wanders, like the budding fight was more like finding a sale on bonbons.

[Remy]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3 (Failure at target 6)
[+7!]

[Patrick]
Of course, this would be the moment that Patrick, Howard’s long suffering Galliard decides to grace the Cafe with his presence. Prayers to Broken Stone, a broad-shouldered kid with a head of sandy hair and brows to match; coupled with impossibly blue eyes was what most referred to as the quiet side of Caldera.

Put him beside Howard, and he was all but a mime. His conversation often little more than well timed shrugs or gesturing on one front or another. Presently, he’s wearing his work attire — that being dark blue coveralls and his battered leather jacket atop them. There are black fingerless gloves on his hands, and he’s crossing the street toward the Cafe in question when he sees Howard, shooting out the door.

His eyebrows rise.

He watches, then flicks them toward his pursuer.

[Remy]
[last call for inits! i’ma go review another section of my manuscript, and if there are no other inits when i get back i’ma declare.]

[Patrick]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9
[Oh, why not! TUSSLE! +6]

[Tala Whitedeer]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Tabitha Reese]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Tala Whitedeer]
((+6))

[Tabitha Reese]
(+7)

[Remy]
[1. yell BOO! as Howard streaks out the door, sit back down.]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She’s whistling just for the sake of whistling as she makes her way down the street in the general direction of the Cafe, walking at an unhurried pace. She’s got a hand-rolled cigarette out one corner of her mouth, and she pauses once she crosses at an intersection to light it before continuing on.

[Patrick]
[1. Look disgusted with Remy
2. Lean against wall, James Dean style, and smoke a cigarette.]

[Howard]
[1a: realize Remy’s not chasing him
1b: wander back inside]

[Tala Whitedeer]
((grab a fork. Hold said fork in deathgrip))

[Tabitha Reese]
(Trip Howard as he attempts to flee)

[Remy]
[ok, i’ma wait to see outcome of the trip and then probably just go back IC *LOL*]

[Tabitha Reese]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)
(Rolling for the trip!)

[Howard]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 1, 3 (Failure at target 6) [WP]
[Athletics+Dexterity: GO GO HIPSTER BOOTS]

[Remy]
“OOGLABOOGLABOO!” Remy yells — nay, roars — as Howard turns to run. Heads turn all around the room, and not just because Remy is fucking hot. The ‘pipsqueak’ streaks toward the door. Tabitha sticks out her foot. Howard goes sprawling. Neighboring tables gasp in alarm. Are you okay?! someone wants to know.

Remy picks his toppled chair back up off the ground, sits again, uses the pad of his thumb to pick up a few crumbs of his sandwich. “Dumbass,” he comments, and reaches across the table to high-five Tabitha.

[Tabitha Reese]
She returns the high five, settling back in her seat and gently prying the fork out of Tala’s hand.

[Izzy Montoya]
Her coffee arrives as one is running off. There’s a tension about her lower back, dancing up her spine, as she turns her head enough to track what’s going on. Only when everyone stands down – for now – does she turn to wrap her fingers around the cup, and move to the side so others can order as needed. She tucks her gloves into her pocket, then lifts her cup to take a swallow that’s far to big for how hot the coffee is. She makes a face, a slight grimace, as the hot liquid burns over her tongue.

[Howard]
He wipes out in spectacular fashion, nearly taking out one of the table’s neighbors as he crashes into the floor, and a normal person would be pissed off, Rage flaring from embarrassment or pain or any other strong emotion that comes from being tripped while in the act of running from a man who looks like an underwear model.

Howard doesn’t yell, or strike back at the bulldyke, or fire back when Remy calls him a dumbass. Granted, he loses his sunglasses, so all he can do for several seconds is squint, but he doesn’t start fumbling for them. He flops onto his back and starts laughing.

“Oh Jesus,” he announces, laughter dying down, then points where he thinks Tabitha is supposed to be; his finger ends up aimed somewhere around her navel. “Y’know, you ought to be careful, in some cultures that’s considered foreplay.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
Prying the fork loose is easier said than done, but Tabitha IS stronger, so with a small whine of protest, off it goes.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She exhales a drag of smoke and goes back to her whistling, the shrill tones of “Twisted Nerve,” as the cafe grabs her attention. With a shrug, she directs her steps toward it, stubbing the cigarette out just outside. Someone could use a coffee.

[Adamidas]
She looks at the pile of people. The Fenrir, who puffed up all nice aand big, the Fianna who started to run, then was tripped… and then faceplanted. She inhales slowly, and a little more deeply than she realizes. The younger Fury clenches her jaw, and heads over. There’s high fiving. Then laughing. Her jaw unclenches. She shrugs, and heads for the door.

“Hey,” she says to Patrick on the way out, “I don’t think you can smoke in here.”

[Tabitha Reese]
She’s about to answer Howard when the dark haired woman matching the description she was given captures her attention. Now her, she’d go bulldyke for. Getting up quickly, she pats Tala’s shoulder and makes her way over to Alethea.

[Patrick]
(Patrick is still outside! He’ll stay there til I return with dinner in a min!)

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Where are you going?” She seems alarmed suddenly.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She glances at Patrick as she slips in the door, recognizing him from the other night in the hallway of crowded bathrooms, towels and such that she’d stumbled upon. She gives him a nod and a wink as she slips inside, glancing around on her way toward the counter.

[Remy]
“You know,” Remy says to Tabitha and Tala, “you two aren’t half bad. I’m staying at the Brotherhood. You should look me up sometime. Like if you want to go hunting or something.”

On that note, he finishes picking crumbs off his plate and cocks his eyebrows at Drew. “I’m taking off, girl. You want me to walk you to your car so you can drive me to my boardinghouse?”

[Tabitha Reese]
“I’ll be right back. No stabbing anyone.”

She nods to Remy “We’ll do that.” Then she’s off to catch up with the other Fury.

[Adamidas]
(ohshit! Sorry, delete last line!)

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Bye.” She nods curtly at Remy, then looks over at Tabby, watching her go with a look of growing displeasure.

[Drew Roscoe]
Drew spent the whole of this ruckus just leaned back in her chair, watching the goings-on while looking like she couldn’t be bothered to be upset or anxious about it anymore. The potential of a scuffle is left with a roar of ‘ooga booga’ to chase the curly-haired Fianna away, who winds up tripping over Tabitha’s foot and crashing into some chairs and a table. The people who work are arguing near the end of the counter about whether they should kick them out, leave them, or call the cops and claim someone’s disturbing the peace.

Her coffee’s empty for the most part, cooled off enough that it’s not as enjoyable anymore, when Remy finishes the crumbs from his sandwich and, in a roundabout way that made it sound like he would be helping her, asked for a ride back to The Brotherhood of Thieves. Drew took a last drink of her mug, set it on the table, and stood up. “Alright.”

He keeps calling her Girl and she doesn’t correct him. Just goes ahead and pulls her dark blue winter coat on, buttons it up to her collar bone, and makes a beeline for the door.

[Howard]
Hunter has performed one of his disappearing acts or is eating paper napkins or something equally constructive, leaving Howard to either fumble around for his sunglasses for another two minutes until he finds them or do what he ends up doing, which is abandoning them in favor of attempting to grope his way from the floor to a chair. In order to pursue Alethea, Tabitha has to step over or around the prone Fiann; that doesn’t seem to be an impediment, and he doesn’t take the opportunity to trip her as she does so.

He lies still a moment, blinking so slowly he ends up squeezing his eyes shut a few times, then sits up. His hand finds the chair Tabitha vacated, and he clumsily–silently–picks himself off the floor and sits his skinny ass down. When his eyes, a shade of green similar to Hunter’s, move around it isn’t with the same sharpness and precision that the rest of the patrons’ do: they don’t focus on anything, and his brow is furrowed.

Slowly, it dawns on him that someone’s still here.

“I think she fancies me,” he says, and folds his hands on the table.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She pauses a second in her walk as she sees Howard on the floor, recognizing him from that other night as well. She opens her mouth as if to ask why he’s on the floor, then looks to the table everyone’s at before shrugging it off with apparent acceptance. On her way to get her coffee she goes.

[Remy]
It wasn’t a very subtle way to ask for a ride, but Remy looks downright delighted when he actually scores one. The resultant grin makes at least one of the arguing baristas lose her train of thought. Remy buttons back up in his winter coat, his scarf and hat and gloves, and pretty soon there’s just that little sliver of face showing again.

“Okay,” he mumbles through his buttoned collar. “I’m good. Let’s go.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
She looks over at Howard, blinking slowly. “What?”

[Patrick]
All the while the Fianna Galliard has been outside, foot propped against the wall; smoking like a wannabe rebel. He’s flicking it away when the Fenrir appears, exiting with his ride. “Well hello, gorgeous.” Patrick drawls, for no real reason and cants the man a salute.

[Tabitha Reese]
She stops herself just short of grabbing Alethea’s arm, settling instead for brushing her fingers on the other woman’s arm to get her attention and clearing her throat.

[Drew Roscoe]
Remy was good to go, and at this point the mayhem in the coffee shop had driven up the little Kinfolk’s blood pressure to the point that she was barely paying mind to anyone else. Family first and that was all, if he wasn’t a Fenrir she would have hit the pavement long ago. She only just notices Izzy as she’s holding the door open and waiting for Remy to catch up, and the detective Kin gets a long stare before a nod of acknowledgment. No warm smiles, no waves, no ‘Hey Izzy!’, just the nod.

Once Remy’s caught up, Drew’s stepping outside along with him…..

…right into the face of another show of provocation. Drew looked up at Patrick, some guy she’s never seen or met before, calling him ‘gorgeous’. While this was a truth there was no point in denying, it had caused him to snap at the Black Fury, then charge the Fianna to scare him off. Drew was giving him a ride, she wanted to get her ass back home, have a drink or two to calm the nerves, and go to sleep so she could get her ducks in a row for her interview on Monday.

So she breaks her act of ‘good, quiet kin’ and jams a finger at Patrick. Everyone has a last straw, and the number of them wane as the hours tick by. “You. Smug guy. Shut the hell up and let us go home. Your pals are in there waiting up for you.” That finger retracts so she can jerk her thumb toward the cafe door.

[Adamidas]
She stops and turns around. Someone touches her arm, and she looks up. Her lips upturn, and something about her seems… distinctly more grounded than Tabitha remembered. She is also, simultaneously, less there than she was when they first met. She perks up-

“Oh! Hey!”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Hey.” She smiles, looking relieved. “I was going to call you. To let you know we’re here. How are you?” She’s babbling, gesturing too much with her hands as she talks.

[Howard]
“What?”

When he turns his head towards Tala, his eyes land in the general direction her voice came from. They aren’t bloodshot or red, nor are they marred by bruising or scars; there is no discernible reason why it’s dark out and he arrived wearing sunglasses. There are some bizarre females out there who claim this young man is attractive, that he has pretty eyes or the whole skinny mop-haired asshole thing is a turn-on, but none of those bizarre females exist on this side of the fourth wall so the ones left standing shall be spared.

“Which one are you?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Which one am I what?” She looks confused.

[Izzy Montoya]
Izzy takes a seat at an empty table, setting her cup down and rubbing her fingers together to warm them. Drew notices her, and gives a long look, which Izzy simply returns. She arches a brow, slightly, just as Drew nods, and turns to go outside.

Izzy, likewise doesn’t call out, doesn’t smile, doesn’t wave. And she likes it that way just fine.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She gets her coffee, paying with a grin, and turns around to look over the room once more. She considers for a moment before heading over to the big, occupied table and nodding at Howard. “I remember you. How’s your ass?”

[Adamidas]
She doesn’t say anything, she just hugs the other Fury and holds on like she might fall apart and float away just by being there. She is warm, and she is surprisingly solid for being… well… being her. It’s a little known, less cared about fact that Alethea Adamidas has a heavier build than her height suggests. Even with the apparent weight loss, she’s solid.

“Where are you staying?” her voice is muffled.

[Remy]
Another night — the night Patrick called him a Silver Fang, for example — and Remy might have flown into a fury. Tonight’s a pretty good night, though. He traded jabs with a Black Fury that gave as good as she got and miraculously didn’t get pissed; he scared Patrick’s loudmouth alpha off; he watched said Black fury trip said loudmouth alpha on his way out. Good night. Good happenings.

So there’s no frothing at the mouth. There’s no sudden lunge for the throat. There’s just a smirk that widens when Drew gives Patrick the one-finger salute.

“Aw, don’t be jealous,” Remy says, slinging his arm unapologetically around Drew and hugging her against a side that feels as solid as a slab of beef. “Charming fella like yourself, I’m sure you’ll find some company tonight.

“Better stay off this one though. Don’t think you can handle her kind of fire, Stag-boy.”

[Patrick]
He ignores the finger, breathing smoke out his nostrils as he straightens. His bright eyes consider Drew for a beat, and he glances back at Remy. “I like her,” he notes as mildly as if he’d been commenting on a new car, already turning his shoulders toward the Cafe door.

“She’s almost got the mouth of a Fianna.”

He pulls open the door, turning with his back to it to raise both eyebrows at the pair of Fenrir. “Have a good one.”

[Howard]
He sits in furrow-browed thought for a grand total of two seconds, which is something of a record between Howard being asked a question and Howard spitting out an incendiary response. When he comes up with it, he snaps his fingers in an unspoken I got it.

“No, wait, you’re not the one with the–”

At which point Sarita arrives at the table. Its occupancy has dwindled significantly; only the Uktena and the Fiann are left, now, and the Fiann doesn’t appear startled or anxious that someone whose voice he’s never heard has wandered up asking him about his ass.

“I don’t remember you,” he says, without missing a beat. “What’d you do to my ass?”

[Tabitha Reese]
She hugs the other Fury back tightly, looking considerably more settled now. “It’s good to see you. We’re just in motel rooms for the moment. Come meet Tala”

[Tala Whitedeer]
Another unidentified person, and she’s definitely looking overwhelmed. Not quite shutting down, but getting there .

[Adamidas]
“But-” she says “-I have to go. There aren’t a lot of- I’m needed on the other side.”

Because when is a theurge ever not needed on the other side.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“It’s grandfathered into Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. Next time, spend a lifetime building an immunity to iocane powder, or as I like to call it, Rohypnol.” She looks over at Tala and does the upward chin tilt can be construed as a greeting. “Hola.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Oh…” She nods. “Right, of course. I”m sorry. Some other time.”

[Drew Roscoe]
Remy’s arm is tossed about her waist and draws her in against his side with no hint of shame or apology in the gesture. On another night he’d feel her shoulders hunch up uncomfortably and her muscles go tense. In another setting being hugged into so handsome a man’s side with his hand at her waist, hip, belly… anywhere in that area, that might coax a blush.

Tonight she just looks like she just figured out that the candles on her birthday cake were trick ones. Her frown is less aggressive and more annoyed, the hand that she was gesturing at the Fianna (she gets that from Remy calling him ‘Stag-boy’) drops to her side, and she just stands loose-limbed against the Godi’s side and stares up the street while Patrick compliments Remy by saying he liked her, wishes them a good night, and heads inside. One can only guess that Drew’s counting from ten backwards in her head.

A tick of the second hand passes on the clock inside the cafe, and Drew reaches into her pockets to tug on her white mittens, but doesn’t jerk her shoulder into his side or try and wrench out from under his arm. “Truck’s up the road. You’ll have to nevermind the plastic.”

[Adamidas]
She gives Tabitha a quick squeeze.

“I’ll come find you,” she tells her.

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Hi. Hello.” she nods at Sarita as well, definitely tense.

[Howard]
“Oh, hey, look at that, startin’ off with a date rape joke!” He lifts two thumbs to indicate his approval, sarcastic as it is, then indicates where he thinks a chair might maybe be with his finger. “You’ll fit right in.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Alright.” She nods, kissing the Fury on both cheeks before leaving the Theurge to her work and scooting back to her table and the increasingly panicked Tala.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Hey, I like putting by best foot forward. Wherever that may put it.” She grins and takes a seat, at least nice enough to not sit too close to the timid one. “I’m Sarita. Saw you during the thing with the limping and the bathroom and all that shit. It’s understandable you may not have seen me. You were focused on something else.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Who was that?” She snaps at Tabitha, bristling for some reason known only to her.

[Tabitha Reese]
“That was the one that I told you about.” She resists the urge to dump Howard out of her old seat, taking the one vacated by Remy instead.

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Oh.”

[Howard]
“Love,” he says, sitting back with a sigh, “you’ve no idea how many days of the week you managed to describe with the words ‘limpin” and ‘bathroom.'”

His attention jumps the tracks with a speed that is enough to induce whiplash in the unconditioned.

“You seen a light-eyed fella with skin like mashed potato and a–”

Who was that?

“Jesus!” Howard says, as though she’s startled him. When Tabitha returns she’ll note that the young man, whose tribe does not announce itself in his blood and whose Rage is so scant it is barely noticed by even the most weak-willed of humans, is sans sunglasses; his expression is focused but his eyes are vacant, as though he’s staring into fog and can’t see a damned thing.

[Remy]
To be fair, Remy lets Drew go pretty much as soon as ‘Stag-boy’ goes in. He tugs his hat a little lower over his forehead, obscuring even his eyebrows now. Must not be from so cold a climate. God knows where he’s from — for all that easy american slang, there are sometimes hints and glimmers of muddled, myriad accents in his voice.

“Sorry about that,” he explains. “That jackass called me a Silver Fang the last time we met and then got lucky enough to win the fight.” He doesn’t even bother to explain why there was a fight. Or what it was about. It’s obvious in his mind. At least he’s honest about losing, though, shameful as it is. “That was his Alpha in there that the Fury sent sprawling. That was pretty satisfying.”

And, “Plastic?”

[Tabitha Reese]
“What’s wrong with you?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“If limping and bathroom describes multiple days, you may be quickly becoming my favorite person I’ve met here so far.” She looks up as Tabitha approaches, going quiet for a second as she looks her over and seeing how this changes the table’s dynamic.

[Tala Whitedeer]
She gives Tabitha a scowl, saying nothing.

[Howard]
What’s wrong with you?

“Who?” He points in Tala’s direction. “Her? I think she’s jealous.”

[Tabitha Reese]
She looks Sarita over quickly, then offers a nod. “Hey.”

Her nose wrinkles at Howard. “No, you. Why would she be jealous?”

[Drew Roscoe]
Not one to question why a pair of Garou will get into a fight, Drew instead started walking up the sidewalk once Remy’s arm unwraps from her back and side. He was gentlemanly enough not to let it linger, even went so far as to apologize for the act (though the necessity for it was beyond her, she wasn’t bothered enough to pitch a fit over it). Her shoulders shrugged, white mittened hands adjusted the lapels and collar of her coat, and she walked the curb as he explained himself, and while she explained herself in turn when the plastic was brought up and questioned.

“Huh,” is what she has to say on the pack that he’s talking about, how satisfying it had been for him to see Stag-boy’s alpha eat floor. And “Don’t worry about it,” for the apology.

As for the plastic: “I haven’t quite had a chance to get the blood cleaned off the seats yet. The week’s been hectic, to say the least.” She doesn’t have to tell the whole story, not unless he asks for it specifically. She doesn’t need to say that it’s her own blood that cakes most of the vehicle, and the rest is from an ally– none of it is from an enemy. It was a part of being Garou and, unfortunately, these situations tended to spill over and make it a part of being Kin as well. It was just a shame that they were so much more fragile.

[Tala Whitedeer]
“I’ll see you back at the motel, Tabitha.” She nods to Sarita and Howard, standing and heading for the exit. ((bedtime))

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Nice meeting you…uh, person,” she calls in Tala’s direction as she departs.

[Howard]
“Lady,” he says, laughing slightly as he sits back in his chair, “do I look like I’ve the slightest idea why girls do the things they do? We aren’t wired the same, for Christ’s sa–oh hey later!”

[Hunter]
At some point Hunter walks back in, slaps Howard in the ear and sits down in a chair.

“Stop it, I don’t care what it is, just stop it.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Well, in all fairness it WOULD be dull if we were all wired the same.” She looks over at Hunter as he comes up. “You I remember too.”

[Howard]
“Ow!!” He sounds indignant; however, this is Howard, who only expresses genuine emotion by affecting the exact opposite. His hand goes up over his ear, and he starts laughing. “You got me in the ear, you wanker!”

[Patrick]
Patrick steps into the Cafe — though he has been taking his own sweet time about it and saunters up to his Alpha; Howard’s shoulders get the benefit of his pack-brother’s large palms pressing down firmly on them as the Bone Gnawer resurfaces from — elsewhere — and slaps the Theurge’s ear.

Patrick sets his gaze over the assembled; his Rage like a persistent heaviness in the air.

“Hey.”

[Tabitha Reese]
She quiets, watching the three as Patrick joins them.

[Izzy Montoya]
At some point, she’d finished her coffee. Now, she stands, pulls her gloves back on, and heads toward the door.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
And then she looks up at Patrick. “And you, of course I remember. Hola.”

[Remy]
Remy laughs, a single muffled Ha! echoing down the quiet street. “Transporting bodies, were you?”

[Hunter]
“Ah..” He scratches his chin “Oh.. that’s right, you was at the fuckin’ broho last week or some shit. Good ta’ see ya’ again.”

He ignores Howard’s at least for now. He’s like one of those fake babies, it will always be there, crying and moaning and being useless. They take hundreds of years to degrade as well. Those annoying little fucks. Somewhere in a dump there is an underground city of crying moaning cabbage patch dolls.

“Hey patty.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She checks her watch. “Oh…yeah, I guess it is last week by now. Huh. Nice to see you too though. S’up?”

[Drew Roscoe]
“Only mine and a friend’s.” There’s a beat, and she corrects herself. “No, there was a body in the back, but that was easy to hose off.” She’s not scowling so hard now, being out of the cafe and back on the street, walking away with the knowledge that a bed and room all her own was only thirty or forty minutes away was promising enough a thought that it calmed her down some.

Her dark cherry painted Dodge Ram is near the end of the block, and when close enough to it she extracts her keys from her coat pocket and presses the button that has the lights flashing to indicate where the vehicle is and that its doors are now unlocked. The story leaves much to be desired, plenty of details left out (like exactly what the fuck happened and why she and this friend were bleeding rather than all the bad guys dead bodies), but the fact was that she was standing there looking as fit and healthy as could be. There’s no limp in her step or pain in her face when stops at her truck and pulls open the passenger door. On a street like this with drunk drivers and taxi cabs alike dominating the road, it was just safer and smarter to go in through the passenger side if you could.

All’s well that ends well right?

[Patrick]
There’s a Black Fury whose face he does not recognize, another he recalls from the Brotherhood and a Fenrir Kinswoman whom he last glimpsed the night Howard took a swandive off a fire escape.

And Hunter.
Who calls him Patty and gets the benefit of a frown.

Izzy is gone too quickly for the Galliard to salute her, so his attention re-focuses on the newcomers. “Hey, I don’t think I caught your name last time.” To Sarita, those blue, blue eyes all hers for a beat, then they shift to the Black Fury. “And yours is a face I don’t know at all.”

He sticks a hand out; it’s rough and his movement brings with it the wave of motor-oil and cigarette smoke. The latter far fresher than the former. He clasps hands where he’s offered and adds, with emphasis: “I’m Patrick, people call me Prayers to Broken Stone.”

He nods at Howard.

“This one’s pack-mate.” Speaking of, Patrick glances at Howard’s face; the frown returns. “Did you lose your sunglasses when the Fenrir chased you? Fuck, how many pairs have you lost being chased around?” He starts making some cursory sweep of the Cafe floor.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She affects a terrible British accent. “Ecos de la Risa. Sarita…Ecos de la Risa. I take my martinis neither shaken nor stirred, but thrown the fuck out so I can have tequila shots.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
And she takes the offered hand with a hearty handshake.

[Howard]
“I’ll have you know,” he says, “it wasn’t the chasin’ that made them fall off, it was…”

He blindly points a finger towards Tabitha, knocking over an empty cup in the process. There has been a period of palpable silence over the totemphone, Howard not screaming for help or recounting his last will and testament prior to being destroyed like he usually does.

“… the tripping. Don’t usually have an man-hater pop out of nowhere to help a woman-hater, man, I’ll be on my toes next time.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“I don’t hate men. Some Furies DO have to like men, you know.”

[Howard]
“Oh, come off it,” he says, “I have sex with people I hate all the time.”

[Remy]
“Huh.” Remy thinks for a while. Maybe it’s that handsome, handsome face. Maybe it’s all the muscle. Whatever the reason, thinking looks like it takes more effort for him than, say, throwing a punch. Or ripping off a scathing insult or three. If Drew knew his auspice, she might be surprised. Most people are. Then they find out how long it took him to earn Cliathhood, and it’s not such a surprise anymore.

“Was the body in the back responsible for the blood on the seats, at least?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She laughs a little bit. “I picked the right coffee joint to frequent tonight, I see.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Masturbation doesn’t count, sugar.” She smiles sweetly, then looks at the door. “I should probably go make sure Tala got back okay.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
The laugh turns into a full cackle. “Instant classic right there.”

[Drew Roscoe]
Drew pegged him for a Rotagar. It was the crotch grab that nailed it. He’s pondering what she had to say about the blood on the seats, even as she steps up onto the foot hold of the truck then climbs across the truck’s bench to slide in behind the wheel, plastic that covered the back and seat of the bench crinkling noisily in protest while she went. The plastic sheet was clear but cloudy, but even through that the dark brown of dried blood that interrupted the light gray of the seat beneath could be seen. There was a lot of it behind the driver’s wheel, right where she sat.

His question is met with a curious expression, a moment to think about how to answer that, and she waits until he’s in and the truck door’s closed to answer. “Mostly, but it wasn’t the only one. The rest of them followed us and it turned into a full-out battle maybe forty minutes or an hour later.” Keys in the ignition and she starts the truck. “No casualties on our side…. but it got pretty close.” Both mirrors are checked and doors are locked before Drew’s pulling out into traffic.

[Howard]
It’s only for five seconds, but that comeback shuts Howard up long enough for Tabitha to make her exit. He laughs, but the fact that he doesn’t have an instantaneous game-ender to hurl back at her means she’s either struck a nerve, or that was simply too well-played an insult to recover from right away.

“What, your ‘phone’ busted?” he asks. “Tabitha, love, if you can’t stand your attraction to me, just say so. You don’t have to go runnin’ off. It’ll save us all a lot of pain and heartache in the long run.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She smirks, waving to Tabitha. “Nice to kind-of meet ya. Have a good’n.”

She then turns her attention to Howard. “You just got ‘powned,’ as the kids these days say. Y’know that, right?”

[Tabitha Reese]
“You’ve got me. It’s all I can do to not throw myself at you right here, right now. If I don’t leave now, I’m sure to do something that you regret.” She leans in, delivering a toe curling kiss to Howard before nodding to the others and breezing out. (Bed!)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
Her eyes widen, and she laughs. “Correction. You just got old-school motherfuckin’ OWNED.”

[Howard]
To say that Howard does not see that coming isn’t an exaggeration. He literally does not realize she’s there until she’s inches from his face, and then the Fury has her mouth on his. A Litany-following, Gaia-fearing servant of the spirits would be pushing away from her as fast as he possibly could; Howard, stunned as he is, doesn’t even think to reciprocate. He smells like Febreze and marijuana smoke but his breath is vaguely fruity, as though he’s been chewing gum. His eyes stay open, and when she pulls back and disappears, he sucks in a breath.

He got old-school motherfuckin’ owned.

“The fuck did you just say?” he asks, feigning belligerence, before reaching down to unceremoniously adjust the crotch of his jeans. “Speak English.”

[Remy]
“Hm,” Remy makes another thinking noise, “so my question really is: did you take care of them all, or do I have to kick some asses?”

[Drew Roscoe]
“We got ’em,” is the short answer.

The addendum is tacked on with a lift of one eyebrow and a half a smirk to accompany her glance in his direction before eyes return to the road. “But I don’t think anyone will ever have all of Them taken care of.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“That was English, Mack Daddy.” She grins. “Si quieres que no hablan Ingl├ęs, puedo hacer eso tambi├ęn.”

[Howard]
“Estamos en los estados unidos, chica,” he sighs, suddenly sounding weary, pinching the bridge of his nose for effect; “los americanos no les gusta cuando los extranjeros hablan sus lenguas extra├▒as.”

[Patrick]
Meanwhile, Patrick has been on a sunglasses hunt. Or, one assumes as much, anyway. There is, after a time no small amount of scuffling beneath a corner table and a female seated nearby gives a little shriek when Patrick’s shoulder brushes into her bare leg.

“Aha.”

He says, voice muffled. A hand emerges with a pair of sunglasses, followed by the rest of his body. He shakes dust out of his hair, glances at the woman; she quivers a little. It’s the Rage, that’s all. “Sorry, you were in the way.” Then he gets to his feet, and wanders back to his Alpha; taking his hand and firmly slapping his glasses into his palm.

“I’m fitting ’em with a fucking pager.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She nods, the grin ratcheted up. “S├ş, pero usted conoce a alguien mejor, cuando no ver lo que los enfurece. Y los americanos son muy, muy bueno en el supuesto que alguien que habla espa├▒ol no sabe Ingl├ęs, que es ideal para espiar.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
The fact that Patrick just emerged and missed the whole ‘owning’ bit seems to amuse her, and she nods to him. “Welcome back.”

[Remy]
We got ’em, she says. Remy, climbing onto the plastic sheets and shutting the door and buckling himself in as she gets this show on the road, tosses her an approving glance.

“Good girl. I hate having to clean up after someone else. So you got a name, or am I just going to call you ‘girl’ for the rest of your life?”

[Drew Roscoe]
He finally gets around to asking about a name, and that gets a bit of a chuckle from the Kinfolk. “Girl works fine. Or Drew. Or if you wanna get on my great side, Long Shot.” Kin had to work hard to get something close to a deed name, you better believe she was proud of hers.

The drive back to The Brotherhood of Thieves wasn’t a difficult one, she didn’t have to ask him once about directions, she’s obviously been a few times before (truth be told, she’s driven there several times but it was a rare thing that she would actually go inside– paranoia instilled by a fanatic was a difficult thing to shake). A few turns, stoplights, and a dozen or so blocks of main road are eaten up by the unnecessarily large truck for an urban setting before they’re in the parking lot, around by the employee door that the Garou typically used rather than the customer entrance.

Remy’d get dropped off with a name, phone number, and an explanation that she could be reached at any time because Family didn’t get a day off.

[Howard]
“Eso es muy, muy profundo,” he says, nodding. “Maar as ek praat soos hierdie, die polisie dink dat ek hier is onwettig. En dan–”

His brother grabs his hand and slaps his sunglasses into them. There is no melting relief from the Theurge, but he does say something strange as a dog walking on its hind legs:

“Thanks, man.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Oh, now changing tongues on me, that’s just not fair.” She smirks. “Was the one you had still tied in knots?”

[Patrick]
Patrick has absolutely no notion of what the pair are speaking when he slaps those sunglasses back into his Alpha’s hand. He therefore possesses the expression of someone standing amongst a number of his peers speaking Chinese on the bus while he stands among them; entirely unfocused on their conversation.

Howard thanks him; and his pack-mate doesn’t comment, but sets his hand on his bony shoulder as he passes by on the way to the counter.

[Howard]
After he returns his sunglasses to his face there is no dawning change in the young man’s demeanor; he did not shut down simply because he couldn’t see a damned thing. Any difference in how he typically acts wasn’t likely to be noticed by anyone other than Patrick, who was too busy hunting for his aviators to notice he wasn’t standing up or flailing his arms around like an over-caffeinated college professor.

Black shades in place, he sees her smirks and raises it with a self-satisfied, teeth-baring grin.

“Now why would my tongue be tied in anythin’?”

[Remy]
[thanks for the RP, all! *jets*]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She leans back with a chuckle. “I don’t know. It sure seemed to be twisted around something not very long ago. I thought maybe whatserface could maybe pull off that trick where you tie a cherry stem with your tongue.”

[Hunter]
Hunter has been dozing off, his head in his arms on the table. Thankfully he doesn’t snore, that’s reserved for those of.. larger calibre.. He sleeps quietly.. if you don’t count the yips and puppy noises that come out of his mouth as he chases cars down never ending streets in a city where it’s summer all the time.

When he wakes it is sudden, his head comes up and he looks around for familiar faces.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Morning. sunshine.”

[Howard]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 1, 3 (Botch x 2 at target 7)
“I’ve got somethin’ she can–”

Up comes Hunter. Howard seems to have found his sunglasses again, or had someone find them for him.

“Good mornin’, sunshine!” he crows, almost simultaneously with Sarita, and hauls off to kick Hunter under the table.

[HIEYAH!]

[Howard]
[IGNORE THE ROLL HURR]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“1, 2, 3, JINX!”

[Howard]
“What?”

[Hunter]
Hunter seems most confused by all of this. “The fuck?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“What, you’ve never heard of that? Two people say the same thing, whoever says ‘1-2-3 Jinx’ first means the other can’t talk and if they do, they owe the Jinxer something to drink. I’ll put it on your tab.”

[Howard]
Howard looks over to Hunter as if to confirm what he’s about to say before he goes ahead and says it.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard all fuckin’ night, and I’ve been hangin’ out with this dickhead since about five o’clock.” He stands, somewhat abruptly, and starts off towards the restrooms. “I gotta take a leak, hold that thought.”

[GOTTA BOUNCE YO]

[Hunter]
“That sort’a shit will get ya’ fuckin’ beat up in LA.” He says and pushes back from the table to stretch his arms and back. It’s a glorious stretch, bone popping and groan inducing.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Mmm, they can try.” She grins, like she would enjoy the opportunity. “I may not hit harder, but I fight dirtier.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She takes a sip of her coffee. “So, this a usual hangout, or just a place lucky enough to serve as such for the night?”

[Patrick]
The Galliard of Caldera has been placing an order at the bar. He turns, eventually, with a steaming mug of coffee in his hand and makes his way over to the table where Sarita and Hunter are sitting. He turns his chair the wrong way, and braces his elbows on the spine of it; cradling his coffee.

He studies both faces as he sips.

“Howard in the toilet?” He asks the Bone Gnawer, with no small amount of surprise. Howard was always in the bathroom, if he wasn’t outside smoking. “Guy has a bladder the side of a walnut.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She grins. “I assume we’re not talking about some genetically-engineered super-walnut that grows to ginormous size and rampages through Walnut Tokyo, right?”

[Patrick]
“Nah,” Patrick says with little inflection save the way his pale brows rise. “Would you want to see his super walnut?” He shakes his head, leans his weight back from the chair back; it protests the motion with a wooden creaking.

“I sure as hell don’t, and I live with the guy.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Yeah, no thanks. You seen one walnut, you seen ’em all. Besides, I left my industrial-strength nutcracker back in the van.”

[Patrick]
That earns the female a chuckle, a brief, almost soundless affair before the Galliard drains his mug; glances at the bathroom door, then at the (apparently) dosing Bone Gnawer. “I hate to leave you alone with this guy,” a nudge of the Ahroun’s leg, he twitches but does not stir.

“But I gotta head home, hit the showers. I reek of motors.” Patrick rises, and twists the chair right way around. He nods at Sarita, and heads for the bar to deposit his empty mug on the way out. “Take it easy, yeah.”

With that, the Rage-intensive young man pushes out the door into the night.

[Sorry guys, my brain is pretty well mush! Thanks for the RP! ]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She grins and watches him go. “Don’t have too much fun. Have a good one.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
[[Probably a good place for me to go get some sleep too.]]

She finishes up her coffee and rises. “If you’re awake, tell the Mack Daddy I’ll talk to him later. Amy’ll kill me if I don’t get up at a halfway decent hour tomorrow. Don’t have too much fun.” She grins and moves to turn in her mug before heading on out the door.”