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. 🙂 )

[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 órdenes no es ser amable.” She moves to follow after Izzy. “Detective. Hold up.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Ella empezó.” 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. 🙂 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 🙂 )

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

[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! 😀 Thank you too!]]

[Kyle] (Been here the whole time 🙂 )

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[She’s coming back if you still wanna play Kyle.]]

[Gina McClaren] [Shenanigans!!! *dashes*]]

[Kyle] (Later 🙂 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 🙂 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.”

Chatting Up The Sisterhood; Meeting Katherine & Lukas

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She makes her way in through the front door, running a hand through her hair. Despite the chill in the air, she hasn’t altered her style of dress at all. She looks around the front room to see if there’s anyone interesting here before she might go to make her way upstairs.

[Bridget Geroux]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Bridget Geroux]
Nothing interesting is happening at six pm in the brewery’s main floor. There are, however, noises emanating from the upstairs. A harmonica wails brilliantly, masterfully. It is a lonesome expression, something unwritten and unrecorded. It is a gift.

The music floats down the staircase, reaching desperately. And just as soon as it pulls the heart strings, the melody changes… it becomes playful, flirtatious, even. Eventually, the unwritten, unrecorded masterpiece tapers off into a rhythmic beat for a long while, and then slowly fades away.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
Her attention drawn to the upstairs, she passes through the main floor quickly and takes up the steps two at a time.

[Bridget Geroux]
Sarita witnesses the tail end of the performance, of a young woman bent over like some raggety, Caucasian, Canadian Kokopelli. A fitted white tee reveals new ink on her wrist of the legend. The tattoo is fresh enough that it looks as if the bandages have been removed within a day or so. The black ink is swollen, surrounded by irate red skin. It will soon heal over completely.

A pair of jeans with a small horizontal rip on her outer thigh are pulled over the usual combat boots. Her hair has some of that winter frizz going on, shiny from a recent shower.

Footsteps up the stairs catch her attention once she’s close to finished. Sarita enters her view while she still has her mouth attached to the tin whistle.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She stops when she hits the landing, smiling a little and moving to take a seat at a seemingly random spot on the floor, letting her finish up. Once she’s done, Sarita nods. “Very nice. Been wondering where you been, ain’t seen you in a week or so since we first met. Hola.”

[Bridget Geroux]
“Hey.”

The pale Canadian eyes the tanned Strider. Her Rage isn’t immediately perceptible, so she’s not sure what to make of it. Bridget tucks her instrument into a pocket of her jeans, then takes a seat on the couch, pulling up her legs to sit Indian-style.

“I had to get out of here,” she tries to explain as simply as possible. “Things get pretty intense.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She nods a little bit. “I can dig that. You get this many inherently angry people people all in one little spot, and there’s always gotta be some kind of down time away from here. S’probably at least a fifth of why I’ve always stayed on the road as a rule. Everything okay though?”

[Bridget Geroux]
Is everything okay? Tough one. She’s been bouncing back and forth between these little flirtations with a Shadowlord Ahroun and a Fianna Theuge who couldn’t possibly be more different. Both of whom are equally appealing to the moonbrained, part-wild creature before Sarita now.

She has a point… many angry people in small quarters. But that had almost nothing to do with it. Passion is more like it. When passions run this wild and dangerous, with very strict control, things are guaranteed to get tense, explosive.

“Kind of a loaded question,” she laughs. “I’m alright. I’m teflon.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She grins a little at that, though there’s a bit of a look of concern underneath. “Hey, keep in mind chica…eventually, something sticks to everything. The Teflon Don got life.”

[Bridget Geroux]
The Canadian simply shrugs and turns on the television to rot out her brain some. She has another valid point.

“Yeah, well… we’ve all got flaws. How’s your week been?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She settles back, looking on to the television to watch along with Bridget.

“Been all right. Less productive than I think I’d have liked it to be. Thought I’d either know a ton of people or already be run out on a rail.” She sighs, popping her neck to either side. “That’s par for the course, anyway. Instead, I kinda know a few and no rails yet.”

[Bridget Geroux]
Hockey seems to be the decision. A game recap of the Calgary Flames. Bridget is intensely interested, but distracted. She does her best to answer, regardless.

“That’s good. Kind of the same here. I wish I could kick the crap out of a certain someone, but not… not really.”

A fight ensues among the players. Bridget’s eyes are glued.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She smirks by how entranced Bridget is by the game. Hockey clearly isn’t Sarita’s thing but she seems to find the fighting amusing, at least. “Well, let me know if you need anyone held down. I’m always up for that.”

She shifts her position so she can lay on her side and watch both the television and Bridget. “Is wanting to kick the crap out of certain someones a regular occurrence around here? Been noticing a lot of it in my short time.”

[Bridget Geroux]
“It depends on how much of a dick that person decides to be.”

Soon enough, the recap is over. Bridget passes the remote to the Strider and sits back into the sectional.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She takes the remote and flicks it through several channels, settling it on some channel playing Black Dynamite before setting it down and looking away from it. “You wanna talk about it? I tend to listen pretty decently. Even the big words, though I might need a dictionary.” She grins.

[Kristiana Coleman]
(Heh. Black Dynamite)

The Fang kin strolls in in all of her hot blondness, looking considerably more relaxed than she has since arriving in the Windy City. She’s wrapped in a warm wool coat with gloves and matching scarf, but no hat so that her hair isn’t mussed. After glancing around the bar area, she heads upstairs to check out what clothing is still in room 8.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
[[:D]]

[Bridget Geroux]
[Post around me for now while i catch up]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
[[We can let Kristiana come on up. Not sure how to post around with Sarita, but it’s cool, I don’t mind waiting. 🙂 ]]

[Bridget Geroux]
Bridget has no clue what this movie is, but she watches it anyway. She is in desperate want for a stiff drink or something to do.

“It’s not really something that unusual. Boys will be boys, dicks will be dicks. It just struck me the wrong way at the wrong time. If we didn’t have survival mechanisms, all women would be lesbians.”

[Kristiana Coleman]
Which, naturally, makes her stop dead still at the top of the stairs. “We would?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“I’ll debate that. I’ve been accused of not having a survival mechanism many a time, and I’m all about the cock.”

She looks over at the top of the steps, noting Kristiana, and gives the new (to Sarita, anyway) face an appraising look. “Hola.”

[Bridget Geroux]
Her fellow Sister retorts at the top of the stairs. Bridget smiles finally and perks up a bit.

“Hey there, fille. Come on over.”

She pats the couch, then returns a laugh to Sarita.

“Yes, well. Cock is nice, except when it is attached to a pair of shoulders.”

[Kristiana Coleman]
She turns several shades of red, nodding and smiling to Sarita as she scoots over to sit next to Bridget. “Hi”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Meh.” She shrugs. “That’s why you do what they do. Get laid, get gone. The look on a guy’s face when they get kicked out of bed is priceless, especially if they’re the ones used to doing the kicking.”

[Kristiana Coleman]
She watches her fingernails. “Not all guys are like that.”

[Bridget Geroux]
“That is a marvellous idea, woman. I will definitely keep that in mind.”

Certainly, a heartbreaker in the making. She will be taking notes. Kristiana looks justifiably uncomfortable, so Bridget wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“Oh no, they pretty much are. Just give them a chance, drop in on a conversation with their friends. They’re all pigs.”

Just a touch bitter?

[Kristiana Coleman]
“Not all of them.” She looks a little panicked though, leaning into Bridget. “They can’t all be like that.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
A little shrug, expression casual. “There’s one or two good guys out there. Unfortunately, they’re usually looking for the same thing we are.”

[Kristiana Coleman]
“But…. if they’re going to be like that, then they leave after, right? They don’t have you stay over and stuff. Right?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She looks at Kristiana a moment, light dawning. “Yeah…that’s the rule. Otherwise, they’re probably okay.” Well, maybe. But she’s being nice.

[Bridget Geroux]
“No, some just fuck with you because they have no control over their lives.”
Another touch of bitterness. Bridget excuses herself politely and goes into Room 8 for a few.

[Kristiana Coleman]
She takes the two responses collectively, and seems oddly reassured by both. “Oh. Okay.” Nodding, she watches Bridget leave before looking to Sarita. “I’m Kristiana.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Hi.” She smiles and waves. “I’m Sarita, the new Strider Raggie ’round these here parts.”

[Kristiana Coleman]
“Nice to meet you, Rhya.” Old habits die hard, after all.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She pauses and looks around, like she honestly didn’t expect that Kris was talking to her. “Oh, wait…” She grins. “Sorry. Ain’t no one called me Rhya in a long…well, nearly ever.”

[Kristiana Coleman]
“I’m sorry.” It isn’t really clear if she’s apologizing for doing it, or apologizing that no one else has.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Don’t be.” She smiles. “I’m not.” She stretches out on the floor, arching her back in a cat-like manner for a moment before relaxing. “Didn’t mean to put you on edge about the guy sitch. I promise, there’s a couple good folks out there. Just gotta wade through a lake o’ shit to get to ’em sometimes.”

[Kristiana Coleman]
She nods a little, looking uncomfortable again.

[Bridget Geroux]
Finally, Bridget returns from Room 8. Her eyes look a bit red, her face blotchy. She plops down on the couch b etween the two women, stretches her long legs out. There is something in her fingers. A joint and a cheap lighter, to be exact. The Canadian doesn’t look to the others for approval before lighting up and taking a hit.

It’s not Howard’s good shit, but it’ll do. Yessir, it’ll do.

[Bridget Geroux]
[between*]

[Kristiana Coleman]
“Did you and Cordelia have a chance to look through the clothes that I left?” Her eyes get big at the joint, nose twitching at the smell.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She arches a brow at Kris. “Y’okay?”

She looks at Bridget and grins. “Ooh, now you’re talking. Bet my supply is better though.”

[Kristiana Coleman]
“I’m fine, thank you.”

[Bridget Geroux]
“Mine’s been a Theurge lately, but he’s being a total cuntface since we fucked.”

She says it plainly. Surely, it will turn Kristiana’s delicate sensibilities. The Quebecois holds in the smoke, then passes it to the Ragabash.

[Kristiana Coleman]
Predictably, she turns red. “That’s really not a nice word, Bridge.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Yeah, I got sources. Girl’s gotta make a living.” She takes it from Bridget and takes a hit, holding it like a pro as she passes it back.

“Not too bad,” she says once it’s exhaled. “I’ll hook ya up though.”

[Bridget Geroux]
She offers it to Kristiana, holding it out to her.

“You gotta live. Sure thing, Sarita. I’d love to not be dependant on him for the stuff.”

Kristiana doesn’t approve of her language. She kisses the blonde on the cheek amiably. “I’m sorry. I feel strongly about it… and total jerk does not cover it.”

[Kristiana Coleman]
She eyes the joint longingly, but shakes her head. “I probably shouldn’t… Who is the…you know what face?”

[Bridget Geroux]
Bridget takes another hit quickly, holding the smoke in. She waggles it at Kristiana, eyebrow quirked as if to say, You sure?

If she rejects it, it will get passed back to the Strider. The Fianna kin exhales slowly, then smirks.

“Howard, who do you think? Frankly, I have no clue what I find particularly magnetic about him. It definitely is not the way he treats people, or that garbage mouth of his.”

[Katherine Bellamonte]
It has been some time since the Silver Fang Elder made an impression on the Brotherhood of Thieves. Once upon a time, she’d in fact resided within it with her new-come pack-mates to the Sept. Her room had been perhaps the neatest it was ever likely to be again, and true to that, long since Katherine Bellamonte resided here has it been so clean.

Tonight, she does not come merely to mingle, or to pay visits to those of her kind who still residing within its walls — oh, no no.

She is after the female Kinswoman that another of her tribe had passed mention existed, and had, for some weeks without paying her Elder a call. As fastidious a tribe book-keeper as the Half Moon was, she could not allow such a situation to be prolonged endlessly and so sought to meet, in person, this Kristiana Coleman. So it is that she’s moving through the restaurant from the cold; a fur-lined hood over her blond hair; her feet encased in high leather heels.

Her stature, and the high level of her breeding draw gazes; she lowers her hood, and exchanges some in return, her lips curving in a red painted smile. But she does not linger downstairs, rather she makes a bid for the stair-well, her heels clicking on each new step. The Silver Fang is trumpeted by her blood, and by the cloud of her Rage, as present as the hint of the perfume she wears.

It’s Chanel, by the by.
Of course.

At the entrance to the common room; Katherine halts and daintily slips her gloves off each finger in turn; tucking them away. “Hello, ladies,” there’s no hiding those Aristocratic features, the proud line of her nose, the high-sculpted cheekbones, She was a child of Falcon all right, and such a child. Her hair was a golden shade of blond, warm and sun-kissed and fell becomingly against her shoulders.

Outside; the moon was hers precisely; a perfect half.

It radiated in her aura, in that sense of lethal potential about the Fostern. As she arrives, they are sharing a joint and the woman in question is asking who is the you know what face. Katherine’s eyes find Kristiana; they are very clear, a very pale shade of blue.

“You would be Kristiana.” A hint of french rippled through her speech.

[Kristiana Coleman]
“He’s not very nice. Why are you sleeping with somebody that you don’t want to be mated to?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Shades Boy?” She looks about to say something further, when Katherine interrupts. She arches an eyebrow, looking her over. “Hola.”

[Kristiana Coleman]
Her eyes get the size of dinner plates, and she freezes in Katherine’s gaze for a moment before nodding vigorously. “Yes Ma’am.” Hopping to her feet, she gnaws at her bottom lip for a moment” Kristiana Coleman. It’s very nice to meet you, Ma’am.” Not that she has any idea who the woman is…

[Bridget Geroux]
Bridget has seen Katherine once, maybe twice before. One would be the night of the eclipse. Since then, Bridget’s started to make a bit of a name for herself. Kristiana tenses at the presence of all that Divine Rage, the perfect sculpted splendor that is Truth’s Meridian. Maybe she should have taken up that joint, after all.

The bumpkin mountain girl, the Albertan Fianna kin of equally strong breeding as the kinswoman beside her, the Queen before her. Bridget blinks a few times, her normally fierce, wild eyes glazed over a bit.

Howard was the conversation, now it has diverted to Kristiana, her Sister in spirit. Bridget only wishes she could be so composed, in-control. She wishes she had an answer for her question. A better question would be: Why are you drawn to two opposite men you don’t intend to be mated to?

Bridget simply looks down and hands over the joint to the Ragabash.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She takes it back and takes another hit before passing it back over, giving Bridget a “what’s this about” expression.

[Bridget Geroux]
If Bridget was alone with Kristiana, there might be some gossip. If Cordelia was there, there would definitely be. So far, she’s seen Sarita twice as well. Bridget takes back the joint and takes another hit. She has a mind to offer it to the Lady before them, and merely looks at her from her seated position, holding it out but not outstretched.

If the daughter of Falcon wanted to take the joint, she could very well. Otherwise, she could turn her nose at it if she wanted to. As for Sarita’s look, Bridget pretends not to notice.

[Katherine Bellamonte]
The Silver Fang, as the Strider knows very well is such already, as Katherine can detect what she is in return, though perhaps not as strongly, takes a moment to unbutton her hooded coat and slide it off. Beneath it; the young woman’s [for she seemed, in body, no older than perhaps twenty-two or three] wore a very fine silk blouse in warm peach, paired with jeans and knee high boots. They had zippers running along one edge, and the heel made her already impressive height more so again.

She takes a moment; then returns Sarita’s greeting with a head-tilt, a little smile bewitching her lips.

“Oh, bonjour indeed, how sweetly short an introduction you give, stranger. Allow me to present my own self, though pardon me if I do run on with things.” Her attention deserts the Cliath in favor of the Kinswoman. Her attention quite fierce, but without reproach.

Presently.

“I am Katherine Isabella D’Albret Bellamonte, daughter of the House of Bellamonte, of the House of Wyrmfoe, and also by lieu of my good maman jointly a child of the House of Gleaming Eye. I am known as Truth’s Meridian, Honor’s Compass, Fostern Philodox to the Unbroken and Silver Fang tribe and I am your Elder in this city. I am also the Master of Challenges, and the Elder for all Philodox within city walls.”

A beat; she sighs with delicate charm.

“So much to get through at first meetings. Now,” she says, swatting the air before Kristiana playfully. “You arrived, when? And to whom are your House loyalties? I wish to know all about your time so far in the city. Do you have concerns? What do you desire to know of myself?”

She sits, then. Crossing long legs and folding her hands in her lap with an air of expectancy.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Right. Hi. I’m Sarita. You’re busy, so we’ll do intros later.” She gets up, brushing herself off, and nods to Bridget before heading toward the door, off to the bathroom.

[Katherine Bellamonte]
The daughter of Falcon raises an eyebrow at the joint, and politely defers. The Silent Strider departs, and the Fostern’s eyes travel with her for a moment, she can feel the pressure between her shoulder blades before it slides away, back to those before her.

[Kristiana Coleman]
“Oh.” Oddly enough, she seems less nervous upon finding out who the woman is, but her posture and manners remain firmly intact. “I arrived just before Christmas. You no doubt spoke with our representative before my arrival, as my family did not wish to have me arrive unannounced. I have no concerns with my time in the city, and have found everyone to be very hospitable.” Some more than others….

[Bridget Geroux]
Bridget takes note and politely shuffles off towards the bathroom after the Silent Strider. There is some Tribal thing going on here, and as fascinating as it is…. this is NOT Bridget’s cup of tea.

[Asha Singh]
The door downstairs opens and shuts. Whoever is coming up the stairs after Katherine is now taking them in a headlong manner – heedless and fast, stomping on the risers if only for the pleasure of making some fucking noise. Katherine will sense the arrival before the others see her: a sharp, slight creature who seems to be the Frenchwoman’s opposite in every way – dark skinned, black-haired, with dark wild-eyes – except for the haughtiness that seems to be carved into the bones of her face. The girl is wearing a bronze sequined dress that sends a wash of painted colors sparkling around the room and carrying something bloody in a ziplock bag.

As you do.

“Hello Kate.” – says Asha, with a bracing familiarity, though her black eyes are affixed the whole time on Kristiana, as if they girl were a tasty morsel – a mouse, say, in a field – and she the raptor that stands as patron to their mad tribe.

[Kristiana Coleman]
She holds her ground, though her gaze respectfully drops to the floor when Asha’s eyes fix on her.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She’s not in the bathroom when Bridget gets there. Probably came in just for the mirrors.

[Bridget Geroux]
Damn, she mutters to herself. Bridget sighs and shuffles off to finish her joint in Room 8 and give the scary women in the common area some privacy.

[Katherine Bellamonte]
Kristiana tells her that she would have spoken to her family’s representative and Katherine’s fair brow furrows as if she’s straining to recall such an event. Whether or not she in fact had spoken to Ms Coleman’s spokesman does not, in truth, appear to overly concern the Silver Fang. She is present now, and accounted for and the Half Moon; whose very one blazed in the sky outside, gifting her a more suffocating presence than ever, can update her records.

She was no Galliard; but she kept a tight ship.
This was known enough, by those of her ilk in Chicago.

“Mm,” she comments, finally, a fine noise woven from her throat and runs the tip of a finger along her jawline, thoughtfully watching the girl. Asha; fierce, dark, carrying a warrior’s fresh kill in a bag joins the meeting of Falcon and like the pair of her children they are; the dark and fair Garou watch their cousin with such eyes.

Such razor sharp attention.

“Asha, meet Kristiana Coleman, she is a new comer to our family in the city. Kristiana, I would have you know Asha Singh, my pack-mate and Full Moon to the Nation.” The finger drops from her skin, and she settles once more. “There are others, of course, to be aware of. Some you might have met, some not. At present there only a handful of us to keep note of. Matthieu Louvel de Ponthieu, is a Galliard, known as Mirror’s Whisper, there is Ivan Press, Resplendent Dusk, a Ragabash, and there is myself.”

A moment, she cants her head.

“Are any of these names familiar yet to you?”

[Kristiana Coleman]
Apparently, given the dark shade of red that she’s currently turning. “Yes, Rhya”

[Asha Singh]
“I met her before,” Asha informs Katherine. Still staring at Kristiana, with the sort of fixed attention some Victorian lady might give to her collection of butterflies pinned against velvet. There is a certain lethal potential about the girl, though perhaps it arises from nothing more than her utter lack of regard for ordinary human body language. Take the staring, for instance.

“There was a very common person who was going to give her drugs, so I told him if he did I would string him up by his intestines from the Hestia. The small ones.” Asha continues, with a quicksilver sort of smile, at last turning away from Kristiana to Katherine – beaming now. There is a flash of that vicious smile. “I told him I’d stuff the large ones in his mouth so he wouldn’t starve to death while he hung up there.” Clearly, Asha considers that a magnanimous gesture. A sort of noblesse-oblige.

“Thomas is coming up. He can introduce me when he gets here.”

[Kristiana Coleman]
Now she remembers Asha. Howard and Bridget and. Oops. She looks increasingly uncomfortable, forcing herself to stand absolutely still.

[Cordelia]
Someone is tromping up the stairs. Surely, this must be Thomas coming up the stairs- Asha’s herald. the one who gets to make with the introductions and announce her like she really deserves. Alas, when somene comes up the stairs, it’s Cordelia… not Thomas. Which has to be a disappointment, because instead of someone who knows how to do introductions properly there is a tall, wispy blonde with awkward glasses and flushed cheeks.

Cordelia comes in the common room and looks from Katherine… to Asha… to Kristiana…

“… is everything alright?”

[Kristiana Coleman]
(Oh thank god 😉 )

“Cordie!” The relief in her voice is evident, and must have something to do with the bright maroon that she’s blushing.

[Katherine Bellamonte]
Now, Katherine was a quick witted creature; she was a Philodox, after all and her capacity to spot a falsehood a mile away was perhaps second only to a few notable others currently in the city area. She watches the manner the Kinswoman turns red; a clear sign of discomfort if not comprehension of her actions creeping up on her.

She is, therefore, making a study of the girl and her body language, perhaps plucking from her mind the name likely to have caused such a reaction. Asha informs her then she’s met her before, and that some common person tried to issue her with drugs and she threatened to hang him up by his intestines.

She smiles; and Katherine returns it briefly, a flash of white teeth.

“Which name, Kristiana, do you know?” Cordelia comes in, and Katherine does not turn her face directly, but raises a finger to signal patience. “One moment, Cordelia. I am chatting with your Cousin.” Katherine blinks, slowly.

“Do go on.”

[Kristiana Coleman]
She swallows hard, pulling up all of her charm school training to keep from stammering. “I am familiar with Matthieu, Rhya.” Not Matthieu Rhya, not Mirror’s Whisper Rhya. Just Matthieu.

[Katherine Bellamonte]
[guys, do post! I’m just sending an email and then I’ll have Kate respond. 🙂 ]

[Kristiana Coleman]
(I think we’re kind of at a stand still until you respond, though…)

[Asha Singh]
Thomas is just on Cordelia’s heels. His footsteps are nearly silent, which is something important he learned in butlering school. Which is an actual school he attended. Also taught there: how to tie a cravat, how to maintain composure, a stiff upper lip while your master descends into blood and madness. How to serve tea to both harridans and tittering little girls. How to starch a collar. How to get the blood out.

So: Thomas, a handsome man, in his forties, blond hair graying at the temples, with smoke-blue eyes, a solid jaw, and a certain presence that is both solid and unobtrusive. He is wearing an excellent bespoke suit, crisp on his frame. Asha gives Cordelia a look because she can, but then retreats to Thomas’ side. And nudges him.

Wisely, Thomas does not interrupt Katherine despite Asha’s nudge. She whispers, sotto voce, “Why didn’t you bring your stick?” And he replies, “I did not deem it appropriate.”

It should be noted, Thomas’ whisper is approximately 75 decibels softer than Asha’s.

[Katherine Bellamonte] The Half Moon nods, and takes from her purse a small card; it has neat print on one side; listing Katherine’s own name and beneath it simply an address in Lake View. “This is my personal home, it is called the Loft. It is also a safe haven of sorts for our tribe in Chicago.

Should you find yourself in danger,” the pale eyes are very focused, now. “Or merely need my council, you are welcome there, Oui?”

Her eyes stray to Cordelia, she nods.

“Ms Diego knows its location, also. She is a competent member of our tribe here, you should look to her for advice if you need another Kin’s knowledge.” With that, the Elder rises, draping her coat over her arm, smiling down at Kristiana with her red, red lips.

“I shan’t keep you any longer tonight, but our meeting was long overdue.”

[Kristiana Coleman] “Yes, Rhya. I apologize. Ivan Rhya offered to pass your contact information along, but I wasn’t able to reach him again after that night.”

[Cordelia] She’s paying attention to whatever it is that Marni says. You can have coffee, but in moderation. You shouldn’t be drinking anything too much or too little or nothing of the fact. She perks up and looks over at Katherine. She stands up a little straigther, and she feels… pride. Something that swells and resides firm and comfortable in her chest.

Cordelia doesn’t say anything to Katherine, she just smiles. It’s… thankful.

[Marni] Cordelia stands and looks over at Katherine, who calls the kin a competent member. She looks like she was handed a cookie. Marni manages not to snort out loud, just goes back to eating her food.

[Marni] [dashing to pick up the kid from work – brb]

[Katherine Bellamonte] “I did not realize you were familiar with Ivan,” she says with some small amount of surprise overlaid in her voice. She pauses, coat in her hands and her eyes flit thoughtfully from Kristiana to Cordelia; rest there a moment as if she would say things with the weight of her gaze, then flit back.

She does not depart quite yet.

“What happened on this night you mention that you should no longer have contact with a member of the tribe?”

[Kristiana Coleman] Breathe, Krist. Just breathe. “He escorted me back to my hotel to make sure that I made it safely.”

[Marni] [back]

[Kristiana Coleman] “It isn’t that I don’t have contact with him, it’s just that I’ve been doing other things and haven’t caught up with him.” She offers a smile again, this one extra, extra charming.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She’s figuring that enough time has to have passed by now, and she hops her way back up the steps. She’s whistling some ungodly, shrill and annoying song as she does so, all the way until she sees that the whole thing is still going on, and freezes in midstep. Her facial expression is in midwhistle, the sound dying out as her eyes scan from person to person.

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Per + Alertness]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 4, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine tilts her head to one side; it’s almost avian, the manner she cocks it like that more than wolfish. She’s still smiling a little, which is at once discomforting and reassuring. Her Rage thrums around her, ebbing and rising like the waves against the shoreline.

“Aha,” she says lightly, nodding as if that made sense. “So there is no other reason why you do not have contact with him, after this night that he escorted you home, then.” She lifts her brows, as if curious.

[Kristiana Coleman] “I’ve been busy with meeting people, and Matthieu….” She blushes again, ducking her head.

[Marni] Marni – well. She watches this little exchange like it’s a tennis match, her head turning back and forth, her curls bouncing. She kicks off her shoes, and sets her feet up on the coffee table with a sigh of relief, and rests her plate on her belly as she eats and listens.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She coughs, clearing her throat, with a short, weird whistle-like sound emerging in the process. Something like that of a songbird being strangled and having its head beat repeatedly against piano keys. “Ooh…ahem. Sorry ’bout that. Frog in my throat, and shit.” She straightens up, moving away from the steps.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Now, there’s a genuine flicker of amusement in the Philodox’s eyes. Her lips thin to a line and she lets out a little sigh.

“Very well, Kristiana. I am not here to bombard you questions regarding your personal life. I am here to facilitate your safety while you are in Chicago. You do understand this, yes?” She waits for a nod before going on. “If you have things of a delicate, or personal nature, do not bring them to my door unless they threaten your life, or the lives of others. If they are breaking some law, you may consult me.

If you are needing my protection, it goes without saying.

But I am not your mother, or your sister. I do not have the time or inclination for meaningless chit chat, or skirting around issues. I have asked, you have answered as you see fit. There lays the end of it.” She flits a hand.

[Cordelia] Cordelia sits down and gets fairly comfortable near Marni. Whatever it is, the female seems content to watch the same tennis match as the Bone Gnawer. Realistically, there can’t be that man differences betweent he two, except that Cordelia’s probably half a foot taller and decidedly underweight while Marni… well. Marni has a whole ‘nother person living inside of her. Suffice to say, it’s a little cramped. What they have in common, however, seems to be their vague interest in the verbal tennis match. Cordelia’s attention, however, wanes.

“So,” she starts, “does the baby do the same thing with warm things?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She walks over to the table, snagging the remote and giving a smile to Marni and Cordlia. “Evening.” She takes a seat on the floor, flicking her way through channels. “S’up?”

[Kristiana Coleman] She swallows hard “Yes, Rhya”

[Marni] A whole ‘nother person, that’s due in just a couple weeks, even. Which means said little person is considerably cramped, and Marni shifts her position slightly as Cordelia sits. Not to get away or get closer, just to try and get The Bean to shift slightly and get off her spine. Or kidney. Or whatever it’s currently crushing.

She offers some of her fries to the kin, and shakes her head. “Not exactly – The Bean tends to curl up closer to the warm stuff, instead of actively kick it off. Before I got so blasted huge – i look like a fuckin WHALE, don’t I? – he’d chase light too, when we shined a flashlight on my belly. Now there just ain’t much room…”

[Kristiana Coleman] (Sorry guys, I’m crashing out and I need to be up in about six hours. Krist will head up to room 8)

[Cordelia] Now, she knows good and well that she shouldn’t decline food, and down the hatch it goes. They’re friees. They’re good fries at that- Cordelia isn’t aware that Marni’s a Bone Gnawer, but if she did she’d know that they don’t just share food with anyone. Food’s a sacred thing. She does know, however, that pregnant women will eat the ever-loving crap out of some french fries.

“You don’t look like a whale,” she says, “I don’t think you’d be very mobile in water at all.”

She just grins, ear-to-ear and so much fake innocence there.

“When’s the Bean due?”

[Marni] “Actually!” she says, with that incorrigible grin… “Water is awesome – takes a lot o’the weight off, and pressure too. An’ well, since we’re pretty sure that’s where we started th’Bean anyway… well. We like water. A lot.”

She wiggles her brows, and then chuckles. “February 3rd.” She pats the belly, and shakes her head. “Though if ‘e wants t’ make an’ early appearance, I wouldn’t be opposed. I miss seein my feet…”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She glances back at Marni and Cordelia, then smiles to herself and just leans back, continuing the channel flipping. She tosses a look over to Katherine now that Kristiana’s gone, watching her.

[Cordelia] “Well, they’re still there,” she looks at Sarita and raises her brows, “verdad? I’m not lying to her and they are there.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She glances back now at Cordelia, then makes a show at looking for Marni’s feet. “Oh…yeah, there they are.” She grins. “Yeah, ya got feet, chica. No worries.”

[Marni] She laughs, and nods. “Yeah, else it’d be a problem walkin in, I figure. Though I give up on tryin t’tie my shoes, or anything that involves bendin over the Bean. ‘e ain’t like it much. Figure’s ‘e’s all smooshed up in there enough.”

She wrinkles her nose, and then chuckles. “Ain’t all that bad. Jus’ been a while. Ain’t like feelin like I ain’t able t’protect shit, ya know? Specially The Bean. February cain’t come fast enough.”

[Lukas] The nights Lukas spends in the Brotherhood has been gradually diminishing over the past year or two. He’s here tonight, though, coming up the stairs with herb-crusted lamb from the kitchen. Best in the city, he swears, and given the amount of lamb he seems to devour, one may as well believe him. There’s a bottle of red under his arm, a copy of the latest Economist in his right hand, and … a wineglass in his mouth, stem held delicately in his teeth.

He stops at the top of the stairs, seeing the common room occupied. Then he makes some sort of vague hello sound at Katherine, nods to everyone else, and goes to sit …

well, in his usual spot. Dead center on the long arm of the sectional, putting his heaping plate down in front of him.

“Thought I heard you putting the fear of Falcon into some kin,” he says, ripping off three lamb ribs to hand to his packmate. “Did you scare her off already?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She throws her attention to Lukas when he walks in, head tilting as he gets an appraising once over.

[Marni] And enter Lukas.

There’s a moment, where the expression is clear on Marni’s face, though it’s there an’ gone so fast it’s as if it didn’t exist at all. It helps that she was shoving the last bit of fries into her mouth about that time, too, but it exists. She sets her plate aside, pulls her feet back, and slips them into her boots by feel.

“Speakin’ of – it’s time I got home. Jus’ had cravin for some fries, an’ since I done killed the plate of em..” She winks at Cordelia, and goes about trying to leverage herself out of the couch. No easy doing. “Give us a push, will ya?”

Push or not, she gets to her feet, and pulls on her sweatshirt, her coat. She grabs her empty plate, and with a general wave, heads out the same way she came.

[Cordelia] Wyrmbreaker’s a good looking man, let’s make no mistake about that. However, there is only so far raw looks and prowess can go before it gives way to ridiculous. Then, of course, Marni is asking for a push up, the female positions her arm under marni, and gets a good hand on her rear.

Cordelia gives Marni a nice, healthy shove up… which is to say it isn’t quite a shove, because even if she is a fairly strong young woman, Cordelia is a bird-boned young woman, and strong for her frame is probably not strong enough to do more than give a pregnant woman a little momentum.

“Goodnight… Marni, yes?” she waves.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks back to Marni, getting to her feet when it becomes clear the Gnawer is trying to get up and offering a hand. “Here, lemme help.”

[Marni] “Yeah.” she says – it’s Marni, and for their help leveraging her oddly balanced frame up.. “Thanks!” Because, believe it or not, she has it in her to be polite – when she wants too.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Kristiana has had enough, perhaps, of Katherine. Or she’s simply in need of a respite from the constant aura of Rage around various individuals in the room. Whichever it is, she excuses herself with Katherine’s blessing and the Silver Fang is then left to her own devices — for a few moments.

Then Sarita is eying her, and gets the privilege of a lifted brow in response.

Lukas appears, and there’s a fondness in the female’s voice as he carries his lamb and accessories toward the sectional. “Oh, you know Lukas, it’s my monthly scare sense into my subjects event.” Then; the pregnant Gnawer is rising to leave, and Katherine bids her stay only long enough to add:

“I have some left over baby items like formula at the Loft from August Grant’s stay before she gave birth. They are yours, should you need them.” Then she’s offered lamb chops, and sits down, coat aside to carefully nibble at one.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “You bet.” She smiles to Marni and sits down, taking a moment to look back to Katherine with curiosity. Apparently, the Fang intrigues her.

[Lukas] “Mmf,” Lukas says, mouth full, A lamb bone falls by the side of the plate, picked clean. He wipes his hand quickly on a napkin, then twists a corkscrew into his bottle with quick, practiced turns of his wrist. When it’s in the Shadow Lord — because he is that, unmistakably so, never mind that he’s apparently on good terms with this Silver Fang he’s sharing his meal with — pulls the cork free with utter, thoughtless ease. Still impaled on the corkscrew, it goes by the wayside. Lukas pours himself a glass of wine, then passes the bottle to Kate as if he really expected her to drink directly from it.

“You get all the hot kinfolk and the juicy drama. I’m jealous.” He doesn’t sound it one bit.

Lukas takes a sip, catches a spilled drop of wine off his lip with the side of his thumb. It’s discreet. He eats with a sort of innate, thoughtless ease; a carnivorous grace that isn’t quite the same as Katherine’s well-entrained courtesy. When he lifts his eyes, they go with instinctive unerring directness to Sarita. Now there are two pairs of pale, piercing eyes on the Strider, both blue. Lukas gestures at the lamb on the platter, invitational, as he sits back with a rib in hand.

“Care for a bite?”

[Katherine Bellamonte] The Strider is fascinated by the Silver Fang, perhaps she has not seen so many of them since she hit the city. In truth, their number had dwindled somewhat of recent months. Katherine somehow manages to devour a chop neatly, and sets a little pile of bones before her on a napkin.

She dabs at her lips, and finally gives in the constant staring.

“Am I so strange a thing to you, Sarita?”

Lukas’ jibe about being jealous is very deliberately ignored; as is the bottle he passes to her, she reaches out and takes up his wine glass instead.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She grins, her gaze swiveling smoothly to Lukas. “That depends, mi amigo. M’I gonna get my hand back if I do?” She winks and then looks back over to Katherine. “In all honestly…lil’ bit. Not sayin’ that’s a bad thing, just haven’t been in one spot long enough to get a good look at class in the wild. Sorry if I’m staring.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Although, in all honestly, she doesn’t sound ALL that sorry. Maybe just a tiny bit.

[Sinclair] The footsteps that come out of Room 1 and down the short stretch of hallway to the common room would be silent, if not for the faint scratch-tap of little claws. The wolf that enters, leaving her bedroom door ajar with the confidence that most people know better than to trespass in her territory — or will learn, should they be so ignorant — is a strange one, stranger still to be seen indoors. Or rather: would be strange, were the indoors anywhere but here.

Is strange, even here.

The fur is thick with wintertime, charcoal-colored with tufts and tips of black, flashes of white. The eyes are a blue so pale and opaque it seems colorless compared to the intensity of both Lukas and Katherine’s near-matching gazes. But what makes her strange isn’t the lack of breeding being brought into the room with her presence, nor is it the predatory dread every footfall brings closer to them — though that is noticable, a different feeling from Rage, a sense that makes the animals in them get their hackles up —

it’s the metal rings through the wolf’s ears, really. They glint and glisten under the overhead lighting as she pads into the room tail swinging slowly behind her. There’s another hint of metal in the top of one foreleg, glinting through her fur.

She goes straight towards the table, puts her paws on it, and sniffs at Lukas’s food before swiveling her head over and peering at him.

The wolf makes a whining noise. To a human, it would seem like begging. They might make a dog shake or do a trick. To the ears of the Garou in the room, it’s just a question.

[Lukas] Kate’s absconding with his wineglass is intercepted: the Ahroun’s hand falling quickly, smoothly, firmly atop hers. He takes the wineglass back, drinks himself, and then — with a subtle deliberation that anyone but Katherine and Sinclair might well miss — hands it to Kate. An offering, this time.

If she takes it, he sits back again. Lukas’s manner here is casual, easy, familiar. He’s lived here a long time, and he likes it here. Even if there’s something intrinsically dignified, old-world about his face, even if he’s feasting on a crown rack of lamb and red wine — he’s casual. At home. Dressed in drawstring lounge pants and a dark t-shirt, as if he might’ve just rolled out of bed, his feet bare, his hand —

not bare. There’s a ring on his left hand, matte black, a thin rim of gold encircling the lower edge. Elegant; subdued.

“Go ahead,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking up. That applies to both Sarita and Sinclair. This is for the former, though — “I wouldn’t extend the invitation if I was going to bite.”

[Sinclair] She pushes herself up on the table a bit more, grabs a lamb chop in her teeth, and then jumps up on the couch between her packmates, coiling herself up with the chop on her forepaws to start tearing the meat off. Her eyes go to Sarita, but she just thumps her tail against the cushions she’s sitting on, ears perked in curiosity despite her attention to what she’s eating.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I didn’t say nothin’ about getting bit. Lotsa ways to lose a hand, and I know enough to pay attention to what’s not said as much as what is.” The grin takes a distinctly lopsided tilt to it, and she gets back to her feet.

She eyes Sinclair as she heads over, eyes doing a once-over on the wolf. She gets a little not before Sarita takes just a small chop. “Thanks,” she says to Lucas with a quick wink and a smile. “You’re already on my good side.”

[Cordelia] It’s an entire watching and observing procedure. She’s managed to get Marni out the door, and the young woman becomes accutely aware soon enough that she’s the only kinfolk in the room. Sarita is a different sort of creature. Lukas is distinct. Katherine is Falcon’s (terrifying, awe inspiring. The ability to inspire some kind of visceral fear is part of the majesty.) And, of course, there is a literal wolf padding through.

There’s silence, a look at Lukas again. Probably a little longer than a glance, she looks like she’s going through a mental grocery list.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I keep seeing you and I have no idea what your name is.”

[Katherine Bellamonte] [BRB, dinner! Kate is nomming and sipping and scratching Sinclair behind the ears.]

[Lukas] “It’s pretty hard not to good-side someone when faced with the city’s best rack of lamb,” Lukas quips. A glance at Cordelia, then — the truth is, better or worse, Lukas rarely pays attention to kin unless there’s reason to — and then back to Sarita to include her in the introduction.

“I’m Lukáš,” he says. Accent on the second syllable, aspirated s at the end: a distinctly non-american name, which he pronounces with the absolute perfection of a native speaker. “Called Wyrmbreaker. Fostern, Alpha of the Shadow Lords, Alpha of the Ahrouns, Alpha of the Unbroken. These are my sisters Katherine and Sinclair.” And, since Sinclair was in no shape (ha.) to introduce herself to a kin, “Sinclair’s a Glass Walker Fostern Galliard.

“What about you two? You’re one of Katherine’s,” Cordelia, “but I could almost swear you’re a Strider.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Ooh, right.” She sets the chop down and, with a little half-step back and a lower her shoulders, gives a bow…complete with a flourish to her arms. “Sarita Echoes-of-Laugher, or Ecos de la Risa if you prefer. Cliath Moonless of Owl. No pack, just a half-sister who’s floating around here somewhere and probably pissing someone off half as well as I could.”

[Sinclair] Sinclair is, in point of fact, in excellent shape to introduce herself. It’s not her fault that the Brotherhood is in the city and it’s after dark and people would freak out if she started howling. Sinclair doesn’t bother grousing at Lukas in his mind or nipping at him with her teeth. Her eyes loll back as Katherine reaches over and starts scritching her behind one ear, setting that tail of hers to thumping faster and with more satisfaction.

Yeeeaaaah.

She’s distracted for a moment, her teeth stuck mid-gnaw in her lamb and her eyes falling closed and her tail wagging to beat the stuffing out of the couch, but then she opens her eyes and barks. It’s a combination of sounds, a warping of traditional lupus to include concepts no wolf knows at birth. It’s a name. It is not meant to translate clearly for Sarita

so much as remind Lukas he forgot something.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[a lowerING OF her shoulders. I fail at typing.]]

[Cordelia] She doesn’t seem to bat an eye at any of it. And she sits through the introduction, most of it making some sense, and she pieces together a few very, very important things. This is Lukas. Yes, that Lukas.

“Oh,” Cordelia starts, and for frame of reference, “you’re Christian’s alpha.”

And she’s met Sinclair before. Her gaze goes there, and the female gives her a once over. Looks at the metal in her ears and whatever other details there are and pieces things together. Carefully, though not so slowly. Cordelia isn’t having as much difficulty translating back and forth, but rest assured the young lady has an accent. Quite a bit of one, but luckily she manages to avoid that infamous Castilian lisp.

“I’m Cordelia, Cordelia Eulália Maria Sarafin-Diego-” it’s not as much of a mouth full when you’re talking to people with deed names “-es nice to place faces with names.”

[Lukas] “It’s good to have another of Owl’s in the city, if only for a while.” Lukas doesn’t bother to ask if she’s staying — it’s usually pointless to ask that of a Strider. “Last I heard one of your kin lived here. Gina McClaren was her name. She had some hard times, though. I’m not sure if she’s still in town.”

Sinclair barks. Lukas blinks, then adds, “Oh. Sinclair’s known by Warcry, or Brutal Revelation.” And he shifts his knee over, nudging her. “Sorry,” exaggerated, grinning.

That grin fades a notch, sharpens into curiosity, as Cordelia answers. “Yeah,” he replies simply, “I am.” Tense is important, here. “You knew him?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She nods, recognizing the name. “Kyle mentioned her, said she’s not been seen in months. I might just see if I can track her down. Never want brethren left alone after rough times, after all.”

She looks at Sinclair, nodding in recognition of the Deed Name, before going quiet to let Lukas and Cordelia talk over their mutual acquaintance.

[Lukas] “If you could,” Lukas replies to Sarita, “I think she’d appreciate it. She was a bright, happy thing when she came here, but Chicago tends to chew those people up first and hardest.”

[Sinclair] This time Sinclair goes ahead and nips at Lukas when he gives her that exaggerated sorry. She does not act like a dog, rolling onto her back and exposing her belly for Katherine or Lukas to scratch at. She does, however, behave like an animal, returning her attention to her food, gnawing and licking at the lamb chop. She tears meat off right down to the bone, laps up every speck of juice as she goes at it. There’s a harsh efficiency to the way she eats, an instinctive ruthlessness.

[Cordelia] “I know him, yes,” because tense is important here, and Cordelia and Lukas are speaking in two different ones. She looks at him incredulously, “we’re dating.”

There’s a sort of tenuous composure there, and she keeps it. Or, at the very least, is good at faking keeping it. “You haven’t heard from him?”
Now, what it sounds like she said, was this: you haven’t heard from him either.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She gives Lukas a little nod, appreciation shining in her eyes. She stores the information away in her head, giving them their time to talk before questioning him any further about it.

[Katherine Bellamonte] [back!]

[Lukas] “We haven’t heard from him,” Lukas says. There’s a gentleness in his tone, even if the truth he gives her is just that: the truth, plain and harsh.

Then, “He never mentioned you. I’m glad, though. That he had someone, I mean.”

[Sinclair] The next time they look at Sinclair, her eyes have fallen closed again, but her tail has gone still. Kate’s fingers in her fur — and the lamb chop bone still being gently, unconsciously gnawed between her teeth — have effectively soothed Warcry for the time being. She is a large, heavy lump of furred warmth on the couch cushions, sleeping the way a wolf sleeps in the middle of its pack, surrounded by heat, and rage, and loyalty.

[Sinclair] [thanks for the rp! thanks for letting me driveby! :D]

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine stirs here; a hand on Sinclair’s fur; a warm, vital reminder. Lukas beside her and every now and then a sip from her Alpha’s wine glass. There’s a great deal of meaning here, to it all. Watching the Unbroken an outsider has a very strong vibe from the three.

They are united; and almost move without consideration in sync with one another.

A true wolf pack, then. “We miss him,” she says to Cordelia, her voice gentled. “His room awaits him.”

[Cordelia] He never mentioned you.
She blinks, and reaches up to adjust her glasses. Her cheeks have lost some of their color, and she’s not so much palid as… well… she looks like she migth have eaten something that didn’t agree with her.

“Oh.”

She inhales, and perks up a little, even smiles a little. “Well, he thought the world of you,” she informs Lukas, “he’s resilient. I’m sure he’s giving someone Hell somewhere.”

Kate chimes in, says that they miss him. She smiles, but the color is absolutely refusing to return to her cheeks.

“I should get to sleep,” she says. She stands, she even straightens herself out.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Her brows furrow a bit, head tilting just a bit to the side at Cordelia’s reaction. She looks between the kin and the pack quickly, eyes settling back on Cordelia.

Beunos nocas, chica.” She smiles faintly, a bit more tenderness than her usual mischievous expression carries. “Sleep well.”

[Lukas] “Hey — ”

Lukas is a creature accustomed to command. Just listen to his introduction, that list of Alpha ofs after his name. He knows how to command without bellowing, to catch attention without shouting. It’s not even conscious anymore. There’s something different in his tone; it demands attention.

When he has it, he quiets: “I didn’t mean that in a bad way. Christian’s entitled to his privacy, and some things are so precious you don’t even share them with your pack. Just because we didn’t know about you doesn’t mean he didn’t care about you. If anything, it was the opposite.”

He nods at Sarita as she stands to go, then. “Night,” He says. “You staying at the BroHo?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[She didn’t stand to go, Cordelia did. 🙂 ]]

[Cordelia] He says hey, she turns, and he has her attention. Because she knows when people are commanding, and damned if she’s not one to pay attention. She is tall, unapologetically so, and seemingly aware of the smace she takes up. This little patch of land is hers and someone requires her attention.

Lukas’ voice quiets, and she nods. Her left hand goes up to her glasses to push them back up the bridge of her nose.

“I appreciate the clarification… it makes a big difference,” there’s not an ounce of sarcasm there. Leave it to the Spaniard to appreciate and understand translation errors.

[Lukas] [i’m an ijjit.]

[Lukas] [Night is for Cordelia then! BroHo question is still for Sarita.]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Naah. 🙂 ]]

She nods at Lukas. “Ames and I are crashing in Kyle’s room for the time being. Hey, about this Gina…any idea where a good place to start searching might be? I’d go outside and start shouting for her, but it probably wouldn’t be real effective. Where she was, anyone she might know…that sorta thing.”

[Lukas] Lukas grimaces a bit, not in displeasure but in thought. He glances at Kate for confirmation — “Where was she staying? Bronzeville?” — and then back, “I think it was Bronzeville. The best thing might be to find yourself a Theurge and see if they can make you a Questing Stone, start from there.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She purses her lips and then nods. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan.” She gives a half-smile. “Thanks for the heads up. If she can be found, we’ll find her.”

[Lukas] “Good luck,” Lukas replies, and then drains the last of his wine, setting the glass down in case Kate wants it. “I’m in Room 2, by the way. Sinclair’s next door to me, Room 1. Kate has her own place, but if you need any of the Unbroken, find one of us and we’ll be able to pass the message on.”

[Katherine Bellamonte] “Yes,” Katherine confirms almost absently, her attention still with Cordelia. She is watching the young noble-bred female with the keen awareness of a lion who has noticed a cub in distress and not quite certain if it should approach or leave it to tend to itself. Some would never learn without the experience.

She leaves things with a kinder smile than usual for her, and glances at her Alpha as he rises, unsettling the drowsing Sinclair; she merely rolls, and sleeps on.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Muy apreciado.” She gives Lukas a smile, and then nods to both him and Katherine. “Well, I should get to bed. Girl’s got to get SOME beauty rest before here mid-afternoon wake-up call.” Her lips quirk upward in a smirk, and she taps two fingers to her brow before flicking them forward in a casual salute.

“Have a good night. Nice meeting you both.”

[Katherine Bellamonte] So, they are mostly alone, the Unbroken. Katherine raises an eyebrow at her Alpha. “Going to bed, old man?”

[Cordelia] “Buenas noches, no se meten en muchos problemas,” she tells Sarita. She even smiles, and there’s a quiet pleasure in that. Not just that, but the woman makes the Spanish language seem like something that is lovely and poetic simply by being.

“Good night,” she says to those who don’t have the benefit of understanding precisely whatever it is she’s saying in some foreign language. With that, she takes a step and is on her way to bed.

[Cordelia] (thanks for the scene, sorry about that! I thought I hit enter on that post a LOT earlier)

[Lukas] “Likewise,” Lukas replies, and then grabs a last rib from the rack, gnawing on it as he stands. He smirks as Kate addresses him, “Maybe not to bed, but I thought I might try to catch Dani&+269;ka before she gets up for class. I’ve got a couple hours, though. You sticking around a while?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She grins at Cordelia and gives a little shrug, as if to say ‘How else am I to have fun,’ and makes her way off to room 10.

[[Thanks for the scene!]]

[Lukas] [thanks!]