Coming In At The Tail End of the Wake

[Rory] She watches as he prepares the joint, green eyes following each movement, and how quickly he does it. Then he slides it over to her, and the bites her lower lip, anxiously. It takes a moment, and then she reaches out timidly for the lighter, the joint, as if expecting one or both of them to snatch it away and say that they were just kidding, ha ha ha the mule gets nothing… When they don’t, she peeks up through her curls, and offers a little smile.

She lifts the joint to her lips, and sets flame to the other end, lighting up. She exhales the first drag quickly, before taking a deeper one and holding. She passes it along, and manages only to cough a little bit. She’s been practicing somewhere…

[Quinn] Both women watch Hunter work, one more intently than the other. Resting her elbows on the bar, she leans forward and waits.

Rory gets to do the honors of lighting up and taking the first drag. When she only coughs a little, Quinn smiles. “See? You’ll be a pro in no time.” It’s her turn next. Like Hunter, this is something she’s practiced with, but was done more in her sordid youth than in her adult years. The last time she smoked was at Christmas.

The fact that it’s awakened makes her wary, though. She holds it a moment, looks at Hunter with brow raised. Then she shrugs. No guts, no glory. The drag she takes is shallow, has her brow tensing, and then she passes it next to Hunter. Blowing out the smoke, she says, “Whoaholy crap.”

[goin’ afk for a bit, post around me!]

[Hunter] The joint gets passed around. Rory does exceptionally well considering her previous claim that Howard had laughed at her coughing. There is no laughter from either the Fianna kinfolk or the BoneGnawer Ahroun. They are all friendly smiles and silent waiting for now, soon there will be laughter though. It can’t be helped. That’s half the fun in it.

Quinn takes the joint and looks at it sceptically, Hunter can’t blame her, this shit is rough as balls. But she’s a big girl and she takes her puff regardless, uttering a smoke filled whoaholy crap.

Hunter doesn’t hold the joint between index finger and thumb, he just holds it like a cigarette, like he has done this far too many times to warrant a unique style. It is lifted lazily to his lips and he sucks on it, puffs twice then blows out a cloud of smoke. His eyes close up into triangles and his lips curve into amusement.

“Forgot how fucked up this shit is,” he says once he has caught his breath. The joint gets passed on.

[Rory] They aren’t laughing at her. She smiles, softly, her head tucked to hide it behind her curls, as she reaches for to take the pass from Hunter again. She inhales deep, holds it, and exhales again, her eyes closing as she feels the awakened weed work it’s way through her system. She sighs contentedly, something very few people have ever heard, and passes it again.

While they take another toke, she reaches down to the guitar leaning against her hip, removing it from it’s case, and letting the cloth cover fall to the floor. She lays the guitar across her knee, and strums it lazily, pausing to tune the strings carefully, like this is the most precious thing she owns.

Because it is.

She’s not good – she only knows one song, really, though she practices long and hard at the five chords she knows. She has experimented in putting them together differently, and discovered to her shock, it sometimes sounds like the music that Ruarc left her on her ipod to learn from. She’s practiced till her fingers bled, and then practiced some more.

All for tonight. She glances up, to make sure she’s not offending anyone, and then bends her head again. This time when she starts to play, a very decently passable Danny Boy results.

[Hunter] The weed has gone circles now, twice, back to Hunter and he holds the little of what is left in the joint while he watches Rory tune her guitar. It’s mellowing, his head feels lazy and his gaze turns to Quinn as Rory begins to sing but there are no raised eyebrows, no questioning glance. He just looks at her and smiles then returns his attention to the bard for this evening.

He has heard the song before, once or twice. It’s not really his thing, or so he would have thought, but he enjoys it. Sitting in his stool with his back up against the bar and incidentally to Quinn though she stands more between them than directly behind the Gnawer. Occasionally he glances at her over his shoulder and when the joint is finished he licks his fingertips then puts it out before placing it on next to his drink.

His drink which never seems to empty.. every time he or the Metis begins to near the bottom of their glass, they miraculously find it refilled by the kinswoman.

He raises it in salute at the end of the song.

“To Howard!”

[Rory] She doesn’t sing. She plays. She can’t sing – or rather, she refuses to try, because she cannot get her words straight, and cannot correct it because she doesn’t hear the mistakes. She’s smiled at, but she doesn’t see it, concentrating instead on placing her fingers correctly, hitting the chords, and strumming with careful timing, and a delicate touch.

The last note lingers, and then Hunter toasts, and she smiles shyly, sadly, tears in her eyes. She doesn’t look up enough for them to be seen, instead reaching for her beer and lifting it in toast. “Howard.” The word is soft, but no less heartfelt, as she takes a drink.

[Quinn] Despite how carefully Quinn drags off the joint, her physiology being different from the Gnawer and especially the Fiann means it still hits her more strongly. She feels giddy and lightheaded first. It doesn’t stop her making sure that glasses remain full.

Rory retrieves her guitar, tunes it, and plays. She’s no expert, her skill comes from hard work and dedication before natural ability, but the song is lovely all the same. Leaning into the bar, Quinn smiles. When Hunter looks over his shoulder at her, her eyes are for the redhead, but they glance to him occasionally.

When Rory finishes, Quinn straightens, lifts her glass to join them in a toast. “Howard,” she echoes, and drinks.

Setting the glass down, she sighs, content. “Do you know any other songs, Rory?”

[Tabitha Reese] (Where are they?)

[Rory] [At the Winchester, all seated at the bar]

[Tabitha Reese] The Fury looks ill at ease as she makes her way into the building, moving to the side as soon as she enters in order to keep her back to a wall as she looks around the place slowly.

[Rory] She wrinkles her nose slightly, and takes another drink of her never emptied beer, and sets the mug carefully on the bartop again. “Lust jearning…”

But she does have a couple other songs that she can play passably well. Celtic in nature of course, because that is what Ruarc left her – an MP3 player with instructions and songs that she’s listened too near constantly since he left. It turns out that she has a pretty good ear, and can pick out other things as well. It’s amazing how many songs one can put together with five simple chords…

So she plays. She plays everything Ruarc taught her, everything she’s taught herself.

For Howard, she plays.
[…somewhere, he’s laughing at her…]

[Quinn] It’s difficult to enter The Winchester unnoticed on a normal night. Tonight, the bar is closed only to family, to remember and celebrate a fallen…brother? Friend? Heir of the Ruined Day was different things to different people. Regardless, they’re here to remember him.

So when the Black Fury enters, and tries to keep her back to the wall, she sidles over to the booths, and the bar’s owner, the pretty Fianna kinfolk behind the bar, smiles to her. Lifts a hand to invite her to join them at the bar. By now, she’s the only one left of the establishment’s employees still around. A glass is filled with beer, like it’s some sort of pre-established menu for the night (it is), and set before an empty bar stool.

“Hey,” she greets. Rory is still just learning, and Quin nods.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] The VW Bus pulls up outside the Winchester, Stephen Lynch’s “For the Ladies” cutting off only when the engine dies. The perpetually-grinning Strider–who tonight at least has the good sense to not be grinning while she attends a wake–slides out of the driver’s side and flicks the remnants of a joint away as she shuts the door. She comes around the van, looking the Winchester over as she approaches. There’s a bit of a smile but nothing more as she slips inside.

[Hunter] The toast is had, the brew is drunketh, and Hunter is high as a mutherfuckin’ kite. He shouts Howard’s name loudly in the toast and slams his empty vessel down upon the bar top. The tears aren’t missed, they just aren’t allowed.

“No crying here!” He says to Rory, then looks to Quinn, back to Rory, back to Quinn. “What are we gonna do about this? I think… yeah!.. you got another song Rory?”

And she does have another song. Excellent.

Hunter gets up to dance. Or what would be dancing if he didn’t spot another Garou wandering into the place. She is unknown.. wait.. no he knows her.. maybe.. He narrows green eyes on the Fury, squinting. It isn’t because he’s blind.. well it is sort of. Everything is a little blurry. “Hey!”

[Tabitha Reese] “Hey…” She looks Quinn over quickly, relaxing a fraction when she recognizes the girl from the gathering house. “Is this… I’m not sure if….” Her shoulders hunch a bit, hand jammed even harder into her pockets.

[Adamidas] No one knows where Adam comes from. Sometimes, people love each other very much. They do things. They have babies. Those babies become children like Alethea Adamidas.

Which means that children come from the depths of the umbra bringing god-knows-what with them. Today, she enters as she usually does.

With a loud pop and exiting the women’s room.

… It’s good to be Adam.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks around once she gets through the door, getting the lay of the land. She recognizes Tabitha of course, as well as Rory who she met the other night and Hunter. Quinn she knows only very vaguely, and Adamidas she doesn’t know at all. They all get little nods though, with smiles to those she’s met before she’s moving toward the bar.

[Quinn] More people are entering the bar, including, thankfully for Quinn, her redhaired bartender, Tom. The tall Fiann enters almost on Sarita’s heels, waves to Quinn.

“I forgot…are you high?” he asks, brow quirked, and he looks at Hunter, then Rory playing her guitar.

“Yes,” says the tall pretty Fianna kinswoman behind the bar. Quinn gathers up her belongings, shrugging into her coat as Tom heads back to grab something from behind the bar, as well. As she passes him, Quinn gives him a high five, which is actually more like a wrestler tagging in a teammate to deliver the finishing blow. “Close up for me, will you, hon? I’ll owe you so big.” Banter is exchanged, and Quinn leaves her bar, exiting out into the chilly winter night.

[sorry, guys, i’m falling asleep at the keyboard. Tom will be your bartender, info on The Winchester’s in my gallery. if you break anything i will find you! and i will wag a finger in your face menacingly! thanks for the RP and good night!]

[Rory] Hunter says no crying, and Rory does what Rory usually does – she blushes, and protests. “Not.”

Then she shrugs it off and plays what she knows while Hunter pretends to dance, but really eyes those that enter the bar. Quinn leaves, and Rory’s fingers soon fall still, having played everything she knows already. So she simply holds the guitar like it’s her only friend [ is..] and drinks. Things are a bit fuzzy, thanks to all she’s partaken of tonight, but it doesn’t make her any more likely to speak when she doesn’t have too.

Though hunter is treated to one of her very rare smiles…

[Hunter] Quinn begins to leave, Hunter would be following her movements but he’s stuck looking at the new comers. Tabitha gets a once over, followed by Adam and Sarita.

“Sup ladies, Yo Adam! Hows my fav’ greek home-girl doin?”

But he catches flight of the Fianna kin disappearing from the bar and Hunter pauses to watch her leave. His gaze goes back to Rory just in time to catch that smile and he grins his own weed-induced one.

“Be right back, gotta’ check on somethin’!”

And he darts for the door.

[I gotta cook dinner!! might be back in a little bit!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She raises an eyebrow as Quinn leaves and then Hunter soon after. A little shrug and she takes a seat at the bar, orders a couple tequila shots. One gets raised, held there for a moment as if in a salute and then downed. After the rim of the shotglass is placed against the bar, she finally speaks.

“Well, I showered today, so I know it’s not me.” It’s meant as a joke, obviously. Only a certain kind of person jokes at a wake. Sarita is that kind of person.

[Adamidas] Hunter gets a grin out of her. She’s too young to be in a bar, and everyone in the city knows it. Adam is no longer the youngest garou in the city, but she is the youngest Fostern. She is the youngest theurge in the city. She is also one of the most experienced. If we’re going to get too technical, Adam was also there when Howard. died. (didn’t do anything. Didn’t do enough. Alas, alas. Woe is us.) She grins and parks it at the bar. She crosses her legs, she straightens her spine, she smiles like she belongs and she smiles like she’s joyous.

Because, you know, she is.

“How’s the party been? C’mon, we should be doing something. Pissing off that pretty Fenrir or something else that’s Howard-appropriate.”

[Rory] Sarita has a seat, and Rory looks at her, shyly, and rolls a shoulder into a shrug. She always has that effect on people, so the fact that Quinn and Hunter have sat with her this evening is something of a minor miracle, and something she’ll cherish – though she’d never admit it aloud.

She pulls up the cloth case for her guitar though, and goes about putting it away, carefully. She sets it on the floor, leaning the neck against her hip as she reaches for her never ending beer.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hey, I’m all sorts of game, chica.” She grins at Adam. She may have toned herself down a bit, but she’s still Sarita. “I just got here, after all. And you’re right, this place needs a bit of livening up.”

She downs the second shot and turns, leaning back against the bar. “So what’s the plan then?”

[Adamidas] “How did you guys know him?”

She asks. Her attention doesn’t waver, but she catches the posture that Rory has. her always, always shy demeanor. She notices that Sarita is gorgeous, that she is appealing and sexy and downright lovely in her own right. Adam looks at the bar and orders a shot. the bartender gives her a look

She orders a Shirley Temple instead. Doesn’t matter that she’s a Fostern, she’s still a damned kid.

“We need stories!

She says it as though Gaia herself commanded this.

[Rory] She waves off Tom when he goes to refill her drink again, and stands, tugging on her coat. She slings on her pack, and the guitar. She’s been here hours already, and her streets won’t patrol themselves. A shy look for those that recently arrived, and a wave of her fingers as she weaves her way through the tables toward the door.

A breath, a final goodbye, and she slips out into the night.

[night, ya’ll – it’s bedtime for lessa!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She watches Rory go, giving her a little smile and nod, then looks to Adam. “First time I saw him, he was being helped out of the bathroom of the Brotherhood with his ass bleeding. Didn’t really talk to him much then though. That came at a coffee shop. Tabitha was there.”

She looks at Tabitha and grins a bit. Sarita’s sure Tabitha knows the day in question.

[Adamidas] “Tell me more,” she says, and she sits on top of the bar at this point. Her feet are ont he stool and her butt is planted firmly on the bar. the bartender doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, Adam takes a long drink off of her distinctly non-alcoholic beverage, and she’s grinning. She’s grinning like a child at story time.

“What was he doing at the Brotherhood? Did he get into a fight? Did he slip in the shower?”

She kicks her legs.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I don’t honestly know.” She chuckles and shrugs. “It was like, my second day being here. I showed up to explore the upstairs. All I know is that Quinn was in there, Patrick was in there, Hunter was and Bridget too. There were towels involved, some yelling, a yelp of pain, and they just walked on by and left like it was all perfectly normal.” She smiles, looking over at Adam.

“So yeah, my introduction to Howard. Which, of course, was an appropriate introduction.” Her head cocks. “How about you? I knew him all of two weeks. You’ve probably got some actual stories.”

[Adamidas] “I can’t say that I really knew him that well. I can’t say he was solid. I can’t say a lot of things except that I was where when he died. And he fought, and he did what he did well. Howard was Howard, and now he’s in his ancestral homelands and livin’ it up,” she takes another drink. She smiles. She seems at peace.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “And he’s a lucky bastard for that, in some ways.” She smiles a little and nods, getting another shot. “I guess I just appreciate what he did. Hell of a Ragabash, for a Theurge.” She pauses, downing the shot.

“And I mean that in the best possible way.”

[Adamidas] “To one of the best ragabashes the Fianna have seen,” she says. She raises her glass and grins wide.

She downs the drink.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She grins widely at that, getting yet another shot so she can join in. “Hear fuckin’ here.”

One more down the hatch, and she looks around with a sigh. “I always hate being the last to a party. But then, if I wasn’t irritated and amused, it wouldn’t be a good Howard wake, so it fits.”

[Adamidas] “Irritated or amused? Which is it?”

She’s grinning wide, and ever-so-curious tonight. She’s watching Sarita, she’s paying attention. She can’t look away just yet.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “What, you can’t be both?” She matches the Fury’s grin with one of her own. “I’m frequently irritated and amused at the same time, myself. Haven’t you been?”

A little cock of her head, as she puts the ball back in Adamidas’ court.

[Adamidas] “I’ve been a lot of things,” she says, “but usually? It’s hungry and tired. I’m pretty much like a cholicky baby.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Ahh, I see.” She chuckles. “You should try swaddling yourself. I heard that does wonders.”

[Adamidas] “Have you ever tried to swaddle yourself in anything? It’s difficult. Not only that, but you end up- okay. Swaddling is uncomfortable. And what if my butt itches, huh?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, that’s why you set up a Rube Goldberg-esque device with a button that you can press with your nose that will scratch your butt for you.”

She shrugs her shoulders, as if it’s an obvious answer. “Problem solved.”

[Adamidas] “Can you find me three frying pans, two eggs, a candle, and seven yards of twine?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Seriously?” She grins. “Chica, gimmie like a half-hour. Forty-five tops. I’ll even throw in a wooden spork and four mouse traps.”

Hanging With The Wounded Kin and Breaking Some Bad News

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She walks into the Broho after a brief foray out to score some more groovy painkillers with just a bit of speed to her step. She’s got the ever-present grin on her face and she certainly doesn’t look rushed, so to speak. She’s just not lingering behind to make small talk as she goes to deliver the meds to her sister.

[Amunet Trujillo] She half dozes on the couch, ribs taped so that she’s sitting stiffly. The television is on, though she doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to it.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She tromps up the stairs and walks over, sitting down next to Amy and shaking the bag in front of her. “The drug fairy is here.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I fucking love the drug fairy.” She manages a small smile, very carefully and slowly sitting up to reach for them. “What did you get?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She hands it over. “Homey didn’t have the best stuff. But it’s good still. Not brand-name Vicodin, but it’s still hydrocodone.” She smiles a bit. “Plus I have some good smoking stuff so we can make it last. How’re you feeling?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Like shit.” She grins a little, dry swallowing two of the pills.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She chuckles a little bit, settling in next to Amy. “Well, I meant besides the torso-splitting pain.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “It was nice to get out in it again. You hear anything about what’s being done for the hunt?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Not yet, no.” She frowns a little. “I imagine something will be forthcoming.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Hopefully not too soon. I’ll be pissed if I miss it.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I don’t imagine it will be.” She sighs. “Honestly, I don’t know what will happen. He wasn’t actually part of the Sept or anything, I guess.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “He wasn’t?” She settles back against the couch again, wincing. “Fuck me…”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Yeah, apparently not. Careful, you’re gonna make it worse.” She looks at Amy with a raised brow, then sighs.

“I guess we should probably do that ourselves. You know…get official. Since it looks like we might actually last more than a month here…”

[Amunet Trujillo] “So far so good. I wouldn’t mind staying a few months.” Her tongue worries at her split lip, opening it again.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks exasperated. “You know, if you keep opening it up, it’s not going to heal.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “It always heals eventually. Least I didn’t get my nose broken. That’s a pain in the ass.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She smirks. “Kind of missing the point there, Tylerette Durden.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I can’t help it. Hurts like a bitch.” She worries at it for a moment longer, then stops. “You’re all right as rain again?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Yeah, pretty much.” She looks over at Amy and smiles a bit. “I gotta get someone to teach me Mother’s Touch so you don’t have to stay all fucked up.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Yeah, you do. Fucking slacker” She grins, opening the cut again.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She sighs. “Oh for Christ’s sake. Just…stop moving. Maybe you won’t bleed as much.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I can’t. I’ve been hurt worse. I’m fine.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Just do me a favor and don’t tell me if you’re getting turned on by it.” She smirks, the tone a fairly gentle tease. “I might have to leave the couch.”

[Amunet Trujillo] Her eyes narrow, and she looks back at the tv.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She sighs. “Sorry, it was a joke.” She nudges her sister lightly. “You know I don’t have a problem with that.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She shrugs, eyes on the television.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She makes an exasperated sound again and leans back, looking to the TV herself. “Fine.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I don’t want people knowing about it. I didn’t even want you knowing about it. I still don’t know how the fuck you found out.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, I’m not telling anyone, so unless you or Boy-Toy get loose-lipped, the secret stays safe.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I guess I should probably call him or text him or something. We were supposed to do shit last night.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Mmmm, might be a good idea.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Later.” She reaches for the remote too fast. “Fucking OW.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She sighs. “Here, let me move the half a foot it would take me to get it, rather than have you rebreak your ribs trying to get it.” She gets the remote and hands it over.

[Amunet Trujillo] “I don’t think I can break them any more. Fucker with the boots did a pretty good job of it.” She takes the remote and flips channels.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “He did at that. Cheesedicks knew how to hit better than I gave them credit for, I’ll admit.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Next time I pick who we fuck with. You kind of suck at it.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “No, I just pick too well.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “We could take Casey next time…” She says it very casually, eyes still on the tv as the channels continue to scroll by.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She throws Amy a sidelong look. “Wait…is this becoming more than fuckbuddy territory?”

[Amunet Trujillo] She snorts, then winces. “Fuck no. Eew. He’s a good fighter, though. Can’t hurt to have another set of eyes, so that shit doesn’t happen again.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Is She Lyyyyyyyyying?]]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Amunet Trujillo] (Nope. ­čśŤ )

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She shrugs a little and nods. “Maybe, yeah. I was just trying to keep as few people ass-kicked as possible.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Either way” She shrugs the shoulder opposite the broken ribs. “Go make me a sandwich.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She grins and gets up. “Yes, Massa. Whateva youse say, Massa!”

[Amunet Trujillo] She makes a face. “You totally ruined it. You were supposed to say ‘what’s the magic word?’ and then I could say ‘fucking go make me a sandwich!'” She grins, chuckling and wincing.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “My bad. Set me up better next time.” She sighs a little when Amy winces, and heads off to go get her some food.

[Amunet Trujillo] It takes several minutes for her to get positioned lying down on the couch, legs draped over the arm, channels still switched in her complete ADD state.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She comes back a few minutes later with a sandwich and a beer for Amy, handing it over before she sits back down. “Dinner is served.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “You’re the best fucking wife ever, Sar.” The sitting up is another long process, and the beer is drained in almost one gulp. “So we gotta go outside to smoke, right?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Probably a good idea, yeah.” She looks over. “You need help getting up?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I don’t need any fucking help.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Okay, okay. Jesus, chill.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Sorry. Painkillers make me bitchy.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “It’s cool.” She grins. “Next time I’ll lace them with acid. That should be fun.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Serious? Can you do that? I suppose so, with the liquid shit…”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Yeah, it wouldn’t be tough, honestly. A few drops, let it dry, you’d be none the wiser until the TV started talking specifically to you.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I’ll keep that in mind. How bad could it be, right?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She arches a brow at Amy. “Um, very bad. I was kidding. Again.”

[Amunet Trujillo] Her nose wrinkles. “This is why you’re not getting laid. You’re just a tease.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that’s totally why.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Hey, I put out, I get laid. You’re not all fucking ragey. You could pick up somebody next time we go out.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “No, Amy…the reason I don’t get laid is because I’m sick of playing the ‘Will this random guy at the bar be able to ring my bell’ Slot Machine and coming up with two cherries and a lemon.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Then what’s your solution?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She gives a frown, then shrugs. “If I had one, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now. I’d be laying in a sweat-soaked pool of post-orgasmic bliss.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “So not getting laid at all, is better than a bad fuck?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Despite what they say, it ain’t like pizza. Do you really want me MORE frustrated then I currently am?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “So buy a fucking vibrator and I’ll stay at Casey’s tonight.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I have a couple. I’m not talking about just getting off. If that was all we needed, we’d not have been going to bars every town in the first place. The booze is overpriced and watered-down and we can get into fights everywhere.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Bar fights are the best fights, though. Where else are we going to find shit like we did last night?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “True that. Double true, even.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I’m sorry I took the only eligible kin. I didn’t know that he was one of ours.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She shrugs. “In retrospect, it’s probably best. I don’t think Casey and I are particularly compatible like that.” She smiles a bit. “‘sides, you never know. Maybe there’s a kin in one of the other tribes I can snipe. The drama would be fun.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “There are some cute guys running around. What about that little Coggie that’s scared of his own shadow? You could break the fuck out of him.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Wait, who?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I don’t fucking remember. Some hipster name. Cute kid. Dark hair.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Yeah, okay. Well, get back to me on that. Every time I see a kin, they’re of the persuasion that would require me playing for the other team to be involved.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Which you ruled out?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She shoots Amy a deadpan. “I am firmly and vehemently all about the cock, Amy.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Okay, fuck. How the fuck am I supposed to know what your fucking kinks are?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Maybe the several times I’ve said that I’m straight.” She shakes her head. “Anyway.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Anyway. Guy kin. Coggie. Breakable. If you’re not going to go after him, I just might.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Bitch, calm down. You got your legs wrapped around one guy already, and I don’t even know who the fuck you’re talking about. In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen ANY Children of Gaia around here yet.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She shrugs, finally taking a bite of the sandwich.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “You don’t know ANYTHING else beyond dark-haired breakable Coggie kinfolk afraid of his own shadow?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Which is apparently about four fucking things more than you know. Five, if you count the fact that I know he fucking existed five minutes ago.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Who does he hang out with? Where did you see him? Jesus, give me SOMETHING.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I saw him here when I was passing through. Jesus FUCK get off my dick.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, you can’t say ‘Hey, you could go after this guy, but I’m not going to tell you anything about him and if you don’t find him before I do then I’ll make sure he’s balls-deep in me’ and not expect a little pissiness.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I’m not going to fuck him. Christ. I AM fucking capable of seeing a guy and not ending up with his cock in me.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “You just SAID you were going to. What do you expect me to think?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “I said if you weren’t. Jesus fuck. Who pissed in your fucking cheerios? I’m the one fucking still all fucked up from your dumb ass don’t take on the biggest guy first plan.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well what the fuck happened to ‘That was awesome?'”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Have you not noticed that everything is awesome after a bottle?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “You know what…” She shakes her head. “Fine. Whatever.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She’s quiet for several minutes, angrily flipping channels before tossing the remote aside. “I’m sorry. It was awesome.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She’s quiet for a few seconds after that, arms folded in a sulk. “Thanks.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “You gotta get off my ass about who I know and who I don’t, okay? Jesus. How many people do you want me to piss off before we’re official?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “That wasn’t why I was asking. Christ.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Well, I don’t know his name. I’ve only seen him, not met him.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Okay, fair enough.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Does the shit with Casey bug you? Be honest. You’re way more fucking important than a fuckbuddy.”

[Rain] There’s the heavy sound of boots on the stairs, steps taken slowly but solidly. No thump of her guitar against her leg today, just the Gaian songbird, hands in her pockets, still wearing her hat and scarf along with that chocolate brown coat. Rain crests the landing and glances about. There were voices that had echoed down the stairs, but they were not familiar to her.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “No, it doesn’t bother me. Not the way you think.” She looks like she’s about ready to continue, and then she hears the footsteps. She looks over as Rain comes up, not having met her before, and she gives her an appraising once-over before she tosses the Gaian kin a smile. “Hola.”

[Amunet Trujillo] Her eyes look Rain up and down slowly, before nodding at her. “Hey.”

[Rain] The girl pulls her hat from her head, freeing a curtain of long brown hair to respond willfully to the resident static. She slides her fingers through it to calm it somewhat.

“Hola. Que pasa?” she returns, in a surprisingly un-accented Spanish. Given that her English is colored right through with a gentle Southern sweetness and drawl, it may be a little strange to hear.

The kin moves away from the top of the stairs, unwinding her scarf from her neck and unbuttoning her coat as she goes.

“I’m Rain. I don’t think I’ve met you two before…”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “We’re the Strider sisters.” She gets up, offering a hand. “Sarita Ecos de la Risa, Cliath No Moon, et cetera. That’s Amy. Forgive her for not getting up, her ass got a little kicked last night.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “A fucking lot.” She nods, face bruised, eye black at the edges, lips split. By the way she’s moving, there are further injuries under her clothing.

[Rain] She’s only five and a half feet tall, and the brown-eyed look that sweeps from one sister to another is at once welcoming and wary, respectful and reserved. The smile, though, remains a brilliant and inviting thing. It warms to them, and is inclusive.

“Rain McKellar,” she expands on her introduction, shaking Sarita’s hand. “Unicorn’s kin.” There’s a glint of gold at her neck, a small heart inscribed with confirmation of the same.

“It’s a pleasure. To meet ya both.”

As she steps back from greeting Sarita, the Gaian’s attention sweeps once more over her sister, and the delicate way she moves to favor those injuries.

“Looks like you had a rough day,” she says, with a measure of sympathy and compassion weighing down her tone. “Anyone look at those hurts for you yet? I’m not Gifted, y’know, but I know my way around a first aid kit.”

The offer is implicit. Like most of her Tribe, this Unicorn is more than ready to help where she can. Even strangers. Well, near strangers. They have names and connections to the Brotherhood, and that’s good enough for Rain.

[Amunet Trujillo] She waves a hand at Rain, looking at Sarita. “Well there you fucking go. Coggie. They do exist.”

Her eyes sweep over Rain again, and she nods. “I got hauled to the ER last night, but thanks. Would have said no, but I wasn’t exactly verbal. You some kind of nurse or something?” The wheels in her head clearly turning.

[Rain] “No, ma’am, Miss Amy. But my first Warder was a Theurge, and we were light on folks at that Sept and far from any emergency rooms. Everyone did what they could to help, and this was something I could,” she explains.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh sweet, a Child of Gaia. Amy, describe this mythical guy. Maybe we can figure out who the hell he is.” She moves to take a seat somewhere besides next to Amy, so that Rain can check her out.

[Amunet Trujillo] Her eyes shift to Sarita, then Rain, then back twice more before she sighs. “Just Amy. I’m kin too.” From her expression it seems like the words may be physically painful to force out.

[Rain] Rain drops the assortment of winter clothes she’s been shedding onto a corner of the sectional. Her brown coat is accompanied by a blue knit scarf, hat and gloves that look like they were all purchased at one time, or possibly made as part of a set.

Then the CoG crosses to Amy, and if there are no objections, begins a cursory inspection of whatever the ER attendings left untouched so that she can make recommendations, or offer assistance. It may all come down to asking Saint Jenny for some ibuprofen and collectively complaining that a split lip makes drinking down a shot of whiskey for the ache of things a bad solutions.

“A mythical guy? Oh, fun,” she says, tossing them a mock-wry smile. “Like I need more guy trouble, right?” That was a sentiment that sisters everywhere could at least echo, or express sharp and sympathetic amusement for.

[Douglas Anderson] There was nervousness in the air about this one. Thankfully it was not a variety detectable by more than one sense (which was importantly not smell). It’s definitely there though as the building sees a fresh entry from the street. The doorway eclipses with someone a bit shy of six feet tall and flirting with half as wide eases it open and takes in the sight behind.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Nobody needs guy trouble. They’re so goddamned fun though.” She lets Rain inspect her, apparently not at all shy. “Younger kid. Scared as fuck of everything. Kind of cute, belongs to you guys. Ring any bells?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well apparently, I do.” She grins, watching Amy work. “My sister here wants me to get laid so I’ll shut up about her getting laid and she thinks she has just the guy, but doesn’t know anything about him. I think she’s just trying to give me the opportunity to be all…” She affects a Valley Girl accent, complete with head flip. She’s fairly adept at it. “‘So, there was this guy that I like, totally got with. But you know, you don’t know him, we like, met when I went to Niagra Falls…'”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Oh fuck off.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I’m trying to, but I gotta find a guy first, bitch.”

[Rain] Rain’s too busy taking careful note of Amy’s injuries to catch the headflip, but the affected accent makes her chuckle. It’s a warm thing, resonant and easily pushed toward laughter if the opportunity presents itself.

“I’m sorry Miss Amy,” she says, apparently not having taken the memo to heart about titles. “I can help if you want to retape your ribs, but really it’s gonna be just some time to heal.” It’s a shame, really, that they don’t heal as quickly as their cousins.

She glances back to Sarita, and then to Amy again. She is careful never to meet the True’s eyes. Her attention always lands on her cheek bones, or the bridge of her nose instead.

“Ah… Well, Mr. Harmony and Mr. Roman are younger, but Mr. Milo’s kinda wide-eyed. Looks startled a lot. Pretty blue eyes?” she offers. With a slightly softened sort of smile. Like Rain may have given a little bit of thought to those eyes being pretty herself, now and again.

“And Mr. Jackson just got here, but he’s the only other Unicorn kin I know in town. ‘Sides Miss August, and I dont’t thinks he fits your description. But she is pretty.”

[Rain] [Grr. Typos. Edit: ‘Sides Miss August, and I don’t think she fits your description.]

[Amunet Trujillo] “That’s him. Fucking startled like a fucking rabbit.” She nods, wincing as she’s examined and scowling. “That bitch needs to learn how to fucking heal, and then I won’t have to not fight. What if they do the Spiral hunt in the next couple of days? I’m fucked.”

[Douglas Anderson] There were a few moments of ambling. Looking about the room. Being looked back at. Finding one or two returned glances that spoke of possibly being agreeable to helping one acclimate.

It wouldn’t take too long overall. A few questions. Declining a drink for the moment. Did they need help on the grill in back? That manner of thing. Oh and there was more building upstairs, just for their sort. Upstairs? The footfalls are heavy. The knock isn’t.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She affects a mock look of bewilderment. “Why the hell does everyone keep assuming I’m gay? Do I give off some kind of a Melissa Etheridge, Ellen Degeneres vibe or something?” She’s really amused underneath, and it’s not ~that~ difficult to tell that she’s joking. The slight grin that betrays the bewilderment gives that hint off.

[Amunet Trujillo] “You do run around shouting about how much you like dick a fair amount. Like you’re trying to convince someone.”

[Rain] “Oh, no, I didn’t mean,” her hands come up, innocent, warding off any misunderstanding. The Gaian’s eyes go wide and then… She glances between the sisters again, putting a few things together. The worried innocence shifts toward a smirk, a little shake of her head and then Rain smiles again and offers:

“Mr. Milo has a room here. I think he’s in Room Five. Actually, I’ve… I’ve kinda come to see if he or Miss Quinn were in. But it doesn’t sound like they are.”

She pauses a bit, then breathes in a quick little breath and offers a bit more: “There’s a first aid kit in the bathrooms. Miss Amy, do you want me to see if there’s somethin’ in there you can take?”

[Douglas Anderson] Alright. No answer. But supposedly the extended family as it was was allowed up here? Fine then. This doorway gets much the same treatment as the one below. Eased open while the frame behind it occupies as much of the available space as it’s willing to give up. The expression a mix of curious and still just a bit uncertain. One eyebrow perks as it clears into view. Then the other. “Err, hello there?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[I don’t think there’s a door from the stairs to the common Room, Quasi. ­čÖé ]]

[Douglas Anderson] ((I’m looking at that now. The only room I see with a stairwell has the pool tables, table tennis, tv?))

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Christ, at this point maybe I should give girl-lovin’ a try since everyone’s so convinced I’m already going that way. Y’all have convinced me.” She looks over at Rain. “Milo…room five, you say? Oh, I may be saved from living a life that men fantasize all women really want after all.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[That’s the one! They’re around the couch area right now.]]

[Rain] ((Stairs open right into the common space. Rain’s winter clothes are in a pile on the sectional. The three gals are clustered…somewhere in line of sight.))

[Bridget] [Open?]

[Amunet Trujillo] (Yes!)

[Amunet Trujillo] “Jesus fuck, you know more about this guy than I do.”

[Rain] Room five? Sarita asks. Rain confirms again with a little nod and a “Yes’m.”

Thought there’s some sort of reticence in her voice, mirrored in her eyes. Rain isn’t fool enough to think she can keeps what she feels quiet, and what she feels just now is a little spike of sadness at that pretty Strider’s interest in her Tribe-mate.

“He’s a No Moon, too,” she offers, still trying to be helpful.

And then her attention slides past the sisters to the newcomer at the top of the stairs. Rain’s smile extends to him, now, and she waves a bit.

[Amunet Trujillo] Amy bursts out laughing, which only lasts about three seconds before she’s whimpering. “Ow ow fucking OW!!”

[Douglas Anderson] Well, doorway or not.. The space is taken up. Given the lack of a dent in the conversation though he opts to get comfortable if possible. Glancing back down the stairwell, and sniffing given the odors of food below, but then actually stepping into the room proper.

Rain being the first to get a moment to look away from things.. There’s a thick-fingered hand waving back shortly after. As well as a broad smile attached. “Hey. Uhm. Got directed up here after finding the place?”

The eyebrow does not go down. It gets a bit worse in fact given the sudden whimpering.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks over at Douglas, about to say something before Rain’s comment catches her attention and her head whips around. “He’s Garou?” A beat, and a blank expression from her. She just stares at Rain, then Amy, then Rain. Then she sighs.

“God fucking damnit. I guess it’s lesbianism for me. Anyone got some good tips on cunnilingus?”

[Rain] The Brotherhood conversations could get exceptionally colorful. Sarita asks what she does, and Rain finds herself inadvertently exchanging silent wide-eyed greetings with Doug, the newcomer and substantial shadow at the top of the stairs.

“Um,” she echoes. “Hey.”

And the blush that creeps up from her neck comes slowly enough at first, then utterly overwhelms the Gaian. So it’s like that no, no she does not have tips to share.

[Bridget] A rustling of movement emerges from the stairway access to the roof. A bleary-eyed, frizzy-haired Canadian emerges from the cold, blinking against the light. The Fianna-kin hasn’t been seen much lately. She’s been gone in more ways than just her absence. The pallor of her skin, which should be red against the cold, is suggestive enough.

The way the half-wild kinfolk pads into the room speaks of her intoxicated state in a way her bleary eyes couldn’t. The jests between Sarita and the others don’t even make a blip on her radar. The tall, lithe, daughter of mountain wolves gives them a hazed once over before she pads quietly towards one of the spare cushions. She collapses into the comfort of it, a fifth of Jack has been indulged in already. It rests in the crook of her arm.

[Bridget] [hasn’t been seen around much lately*]

[Douglas Anderson] “Wow. Apparently whatever I missed was good. Hi there, I’m Doug. Just moved to the area.”

At least he moved out of the way of the stairs. Amazingly disarming as the conversation could be (to say nothing of Bridget’s arrival) nobody was going to keep him from finding something to sit on (poor, poor seating) very soon.

((Grr. Still cannot seem to get into chilltank.))

[Amunet Trujillo] She finally manages to catch her breath, taking long, slow gulps of air and watching the others as she waits for the stabbing pain to recede.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks over at Bridget as she comes in, and the levity and false exasperation drops out of her expression. She looks…concerned. She lets someone else do introductions to Douglas, giving him a brief wave and walking over to plop down on the couch next to Bridget. “Hey, you. Looks like you’re getting the party started early today…”

[Rain] And that is her excuse to except herself from the sisterhood’s debate about her Tribes-mate (and interest). Rain’s attention tracks Bridget as she moves through the room and settles on one of the floor cushions. The Gaian rises and heads over toward her.

Along the way, she offers a smile and a “Nice to meet you,” to Doug, but it’s a bit distracted.

Unicorn’s kin crouches next to Stag’s and says, “Hey, I heard…” (about Howard is implied) with a weight to her voice that suggests she’s felt the loss, too. And if Bridget doesn’t object, she might just find herself hugged.

[Rain] [… I may have misread, if Bridget’s on the couch, then strike “floor” and replace “crouches” with “sits” ]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[And if I misread, then replace “couch” with “floor.”]]

[Douglas Anderson] He spreads some when he sits. As well as leaning forward slightly and resting his arms in front of him. Between Bridget and Amunet he kind of wonders for a moment. Musing to himself, but audible to anyone listening. “Maybe I picked the wrong time to come get acquainted.. Seems serious.”

[Kyle] It might not be the most comfortable of places but Kyle had been sitting alone in the laundry room for most of the afternoon. Sketching and drawing as he waited for his washing to be done. It also helped cut out the sound of the sisters when they argued, not that it bothered him. It was just hard to concentrate with some of the classy remarks they threw at each other when he wanted to make snappy quips. Now that the load had finished he wanders back to his room and a few minutes later makes his way into the common. Seeing everyone there he gives that casual smile he always has before moving over to sit on one of the pool tables.

[Bridget] Suddenly, a kinfolk she doesn’t know very well is up in her business with a sad look on her face. The Canadian’s face furrows into a confused scowl as the daughter of Unicorn embraces her. Usually, Bridget is fairly touchy-feely, so she doesn’t object, but the look on her face clearly suggests she has no idea what’s going on.

A man in the corner seems to smile to himself. Bridget watches him for a minute before she touches Rain’s shoulder.

“Hello,” she says to Rain. “But I don’t know what you’re talkin about.” There’s a slight slur to her speech.

[Amunet Trujillo] She moves slowly to make room for everyone, finally nodding to Douglas. “Hey.”

[Douglas Anderson] The smile didn’t last too long. Bridget’s mood and the other’s injuries made that a bit inappropriate. Though he’d start again given half a chance. It’s more measured now though. Amunet and Kyle alike on the receiving end of that much. “Hi there.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She frowns a little as her attempt to talk to Bridget gets eclipsed, but doesn’t get up from her spot next to her and Rain. She looks over at Kyle and gives him a little upward head-tilt of a nod.

[Rain] Bridget doesn’t know what she means, and Rain’s sadness melts toward confusion. After what Quinn had said, and the news circulating around the Caern in the wake of Patrick’s howl… she’d assumed. Perhaps incorrectly.

The look she gives Bridget is rather similar to the Canadian’s scowl, less the irritation.

“Um, then nevermind. You just…” Another confused glance to Stag’s far more feral daughter. “Looked like you could use a hug.” Rain pulls her limbs back toward her own center, and runs her fingertips through her hair.

[Amunet Trujillo] “Who are you?” She watches Douglas, and the words are apparently directed at him.

[Bridget] Bridget forces a small smile at Rain before she moves her hand off the girl’s shoulder. “Thanks. I’m just hung up, that’s all. It’s a stupid thing, really. I’m sure he’ll call.”

It’s… a sick, sad sort of thing that raises up a person’s spine. It’s almost like watching a mother cat dragging around her stillborn children. A dog that lies next to the grave of his master. Maybe she really doesn’t know, but that doesn’t change the fact.

Bridget is aware that Sarita said something to her. She turns her eyes to the Strider and waves the bottle a little bit. “Hey.”

[Douglas Anderson] Directed at him got a fairly prompt reply. “Doug Anderson. New here.. Well, that’s obvious. Was told that ‘extended family’ met up here and then sent upstairs. Since then.. well, seemed like more important things than introductions were happening? Figured I’d just be patient.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hey, chica.” She smiles a little bit, giving Rain a quick look that broadcasts Go with the flow. “Yeah…yeah, I’m sure he will. How you doin’?”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Who’s your extended family?” She makes herself sit a little straighter, almost staring Douglas down.

[Rain] “You wanna talk about it?” Rain offers, with a small and still faintly confused smile. “I mean, the three of us were just on about boy trouble before you came in…” so offers, glancing over to Sarita for an assist.

And there’s something to the Gaian’s features that are both worried and haunted in that moment. Worried that Bridget might not yet know; haunted that she does and isn’t processing it.

Her attention flicks to Doug, to Amy (lingers there a moment longer), and then back to Bridget. Not for the first time this evening, she wishes either Quinn or Milo were around.

[Douglas Anderson] Being this.. open about the matter doesn’t seem to sit entirely well with him. At all. It takes a moment to swallow the hesitation and just get the answer spoken already. He’s not winning any staredowns. Almost or otherwise. “That’d be the Furies.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Goddamn. You got a hard fucking life, son.” She grins a little. “Welcome to Chicago.”

[Kyle] “Oh that’s subtle Amunet.”
Kyle’s voice barely noticable as he smiles and watches them all. Absently he picks up his sketch pad and pencil and starts to draw, legs dangling absently over the edge of the pool table.

[Bridget] There are introductions going on. Bridget waits until Doug and Amunet are done before she shrugs and takes another swig of Jack. Something in her glazed eyes or her slumped posture or both is suggestive enough that she’s concealing a lot of heaviness.

“I doubt it. The last time he saw me, he bolted the other direction.”

[Douglas Anderson] The tension breaking is like a cord snapping. Apparently that cord had been holding his shoulders together and tied to a light fixture overhead because they fold down and he leans forward (causing him to widen a bit more about the middle) His head shakes, long curly brown hair hanging haphazard about his face. There’s a matching weak grin though. “One copes, heh. Great to be here. I imagine it’ll stop freaking me out someday.”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Fuck me, Kyle. Subtle? Did you just meet me?” She grins at the kin, making her lip split yet again.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hey, can I get a hit off that bottle?” She reaches out for it, but doesn’t take it if Bridget seems to react poorly or says ‘No.'”

[Kyle] Now that gets another smirk from Kyle as he shakes his head. He could make any number of comments but refrains due to the company they have. Can’t have everyone thing Striders are weird….Mind you this coming from the happy goth.

[Rain] And so there’s this. Rain can either suggest the name, walk into the situation and quite possibly get trapped into being the one to give (or reinforce) bad news, or she can play along and possibly offer the Stag false hope.

There’s another conversation going on in the room, and once in awhile her attention flicks that way, but Rain’s focused on Bridget just now with a sort of tunneled awareness that suggests something very serious is afoot.

“… Are y’ talkin’ about Howard?” she asks, bracing herself for either the answer or (hopefully) laughter at the suggestion.

[Douglas Anderson] He does react some to Kyle. Mostly though? It’s another perked eyebrow. Wasn’t like the girl was wrong. But hey! Some things helped. (Like cake.) There’s a heavy exhale that’s one more means of shedding tension. “Wonder if they need anyone else to cook downstairs here..”

[Amunet Trujillo] “Sar? Fess up with the pills, bitch. I’m going to go lie down.” She begins the long process of getting up off the couch.

[Kyle] “If you need some strong stuff, front pouch on my duffle bag. Careful though they’ll knock you out.”
Grins as he looks to Amunet

[Bridget] The Fianna kin offers Sarita the bottle, then hugs her knees. She’s drunk, but not utterly wasted. She’s still freezing from her excursion upstairs. Rain asks about her business. Bridget isn’t ready to really open up about how she feels about Howard. There’s a lot that she feels that doesn’t rely on what happened between them, things he probably never knew.

“Yeah. Him. He keeps… toying with me.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “All right.” She tosses the bag of pills over to Amy. “Try not to hurt yourself as you sleep.”

[Kyle] Looks to Douglas as tries to get his attention since his voice is barely above a whisper.
“They usually have a rush weekends. Sure they’d appreciate any help and the perks are good. All the left overs you want usually.”

[Amunet Trujillo] She catches the pills, but looks over at Kyle. “Goddamn, kid. I knew I liked you.” Nodding to everyone, she makes her way slowly out of the room.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks at Bridget and then to Rain, chewing on her lip a little. “Sweetie…why don’t we get you to your room? We should talk about something…”

[Douglas Anderson] “Err, later.” This to Amunet. Kyle though? He does hear. Paying attention helps. So there’s a nod there and some consideration. “Weekends would work. Who would I talk to about that kinda thing?”

[Rain] Rain swallows. She glances up to Sarita, and then back to Bridget. “Sarita’s got a good idea, hon’,” Rain says, and the gentleness in her voice is underscored with a very big other just now. It’s one part encouragement, and another that heaviness and sadness. Her smile tweaks upwards at the side, encouragingly.

[Tabitha Reese] She looks pissed at the world, stomping up the steps with her hands jammed into her jacket pockets.

[Kyle] Kyle rattles off a few of the key staff to talk to for Douglas. He’s pretty good friends with most of them since he’s just that sort of person. All the while he’s sketching in his pad as he ponders what’s going on with Bridget

[Douglas Anderson] Oh dear. Pissed at the world storming up the stairs lets the disarmed back in. He trails off and looks her way. Then looks back to Kyle. The expression spoke volumes. (Is it always like this?) Somewhere amidst this.. he’d take down the notes given. By way of texting them to himself.

[Bridget] Bridget isn’t oblivious. She may be drunk, she may be half-wild, she may be a bumpkin, or many other things… but something in the way two women are talking to her like she’s five years old makes Bridget suspicious.

“The fuck’s going on?” she says.

[Tabitha Reese] At the top of the stairs she stops and takes stock of who’s there, looking from person to person slowly.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks over, seeing Tabitha, and looks back to Rain with an ‘Oh hell’ look on her face. “You help her there. I’ll follow if and when I can. Cutting off a problem.” She gets up and walks over toward Tabitha. “Hey, you. What’s up?” She holds a finger to her lips as she does so, pointing in Bridget’s direction.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Subtly pointing, natch. Not like, frantically waving that way or anything.]]

[Tala Whitedeer] She practically runs into Tabitha as she stops. Wait, not practically. Actually. She actually runs into Tabitha as she stops suddeny.

[Tabitha Reese] “What?” She scowls at Sarita, then over to Bridget.

[Rain] “It’s about Mr. Howard,” she says, and her voice isn’t so much belittling as it is reassuring. Though Bridget is also a trained performer, and she knows that they both have the skills to communicate effectively with very few words at all. Rain tips her head toward the privacy of the individual rooms.

“You might want your privacy when you hear, that’s all we’re sayin’. Walk with me a bit? Or if no, I’ll tell you plain, just here. Your choice, Miss Bridget.”

[Douglas Anderson] Trying to look like he’s not there is preposterous. There’s too much there to not be there. He does at least avoid leaving his mouth hanging open or any other such thing. Otherwise though? When Tabitha gets to his position in who’s there there’s a sort of acknowledging lack of eye-contact.

There’s also, somewhere under the weight, at least a few obvious traits of what the newcomer is if not who.

[Tabitha Reese] Her hand reaches back to grab Tala’s arm and steady her, stepping aside and tugging her up to the top of the stairs.

The look she gives Rain is pure death, eyes tracking the woman now.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I said, ‘What’s up?'” As she mouths with her back to the couch,in that over the top way, ‘Don’t mention Howard yet. She doesn’t know.’

[Tabitha Reese] “Who doesn’t know? Didn’t everybody hear the howl?”

[Tala Whitedeer] “What’s going on?” Sh follows Tabitha up, like usual.

[Kyle] From his spot on the pool table, the cheery goth gives a casual wave to Tala and Tabitha before going back to his sketching. He’s starting to put things together now as he listens

[Tabitha Reese] “I don’t know, Tal.” She puts her arm around the girl protectively, eyes still on Rain and Bridget.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks like she’s about to hit Tabitha. It’s clearly a warning look, the kind that proclaims Shut up.

[Tala Whitedeer] She looks over at Kyle, vaguely confused. “Is this about whats-his-name?”

[Erek Skulason] ooc/locations? is there room for one more?
to Bridget, Douglas Anderson, Kyle, Rain, Sarita Ecos de la Risa, Tabitha Reese, Tala Whitedeer

[Rain] Excellent. There is a Monster glaring at her, and though the kinswoman cannot know the Auspice or Tribe attached to the Rage that entered the room, the very shift of her spine and shallowing of her breath indicates that she’s felt it. That she is aware that she is quarry and prey to something very large and fatal.

The wide-eyed kinswoman slides her attention over to the gathering at the stairs for a moment. She keeps her line of sight low, so it does not risk meeting anyone’s eyes. And then, ruefully, worriedly, she pulls it back to Bridget.

The last thing Rain McKellar wants to do is turn her back or blindspot to the Monster in the room. But Bridget deserves better than half her awareness and compassion.

[Douglas Anderson] Listening was basically a good three quarters of what he’d been able to do since he got here. Figuring out what was going on in the background? Maybe. He lacked some context.. Or maybe a lot of it.

Suffice to say there was still some confusion. Mostly he kept himself seated at the far end of the sectional. Though he couldn’t help glance at the Rage once in while.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Calling for a closed scene at this point after everyone in here gets in IC. This room filled up way too fast for my sake.]]

[Bridget] Now things are getting ridiculous. Bridget watches the women, then looks to Rain, then back to the rest of them. Volumes could be interpreted from the hushes and the kid gloves with which she’s being handled. Bridget blinks a few times and there is silence.

Unexpected movement comes from her after a long, awkward pause. Bridget lauches herself to her feet, steadies herself for a minute, then pads over towards Room 8.

However, what Tabitha says aloud… Bridget stops in her tracks. She hasn’t been around, she’s been gone again, vanishing like some Strider kin.

A dark wave washes throughout the room. A silent, dark, heavy wave… a moment when they each hold their breaths for fear of eliciting a burst of Rage from one of the present Garou, or fear of being The One To Break The News. No one can quite see Bridget’s face once she starts to suspect, but they can read her body language. She is perfectly still. She doesn’t flinch an inch, and she is utterly silent except for the soft sound of her even breathing.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Erek: Sarita, Tala and Tabitha at the top of the stairway, Rain & Bridget on the couch, and Douglas and Kyle somewhere else in the room, I’m sorry I don’t know where.]]

[Douglas Anderson] ((I mentioned in my last post in his case. Edge of the sectional seating.))

[Tabitha Reese] Her eyes narrow and she looks back to Sarita, then around the room, finally nodding and tugging Tala along with her to move toward the couches.

[Kyle] No need to explain to him to get out of dodge. Seeing the tension rise in the room, Kyle casually gets up off the pool table and looks to Tala. A few simple hand gestures indicating he’s not sure but most likely is. Gathering up his stuff he makes his way past Tabitha and Tala at the stairs and heads up to the roof.

[Kyle] (Cheerful Goth heading up to the roof. I’ll drop back in later when things have settled ­čÖé )

[Tala Whitedeer] She follows. “Tabitha. What’s happening?”

[Douglas Anderson] There was an absolutely horrid realization here. All of this mess? Was between him and the stairs. (Gaia help me.) There were so many good things on the other side of those stairs! Alcohol. Hamburgers. Fresh air that was not being steadily warmed by anger..

Possibly cake. He almost gets lost enough in that thought to miss Kyle taking his own way out. Given the options? He wrenches himself up from his seat (this takes a few moments.. and is utterly impossible to do inconspicuously) and starts to head for where Kyle did. ((Alright if I keep watching in the meantime?))

[Bridget] ((Sure))

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Sarita was blocking the stairs. Tabitha and Tala would have to push her aside to get up. Please let me know if they are doing that.]]

[Tabitha Reese] (Tab would totally push her aside.)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Okay.]]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks back at Bridget when she stands, and there’s something akin to Sarita’s face falling. She gives Tabitha a look when she gets pushed aside and follows behind, looking like she’s about to punch the woman in the back of the head.

[Erek Skulason] * Unbeknown to Erek… (who was about to walk into trouble?), he found through word of mouth the place for wayward Garou to go. With the directions given to him, he made his way to the BroHo, going around the back of the building were the patron’s entrance was and glanced around with a curious eye. Someone helps the lost boy, directing him out of the kitchen and towards a set of stairs that go up. Hearing noise, the tall blond makes his way up, boots hitting hard on the steps as he makes his presence known, stopping if someone blocks his path*

[Rain] The fear that sweeps over Rain isn’t about telling Bridget. It isn’t about anything going on at the couch until Tabitha and Tala push past Sarita and head toward them.

Rain pulls a deep breath and, because Bridget doesn’t seem to be keen on moving, because no one else has said anything to the poor woman, she says:

“Bridget. Howard’s probably not gonna call you back, love. I’m so, so sorry.” And there’s an apology in her deep brown eyes. She rests a hand on Bridget’s shoulder. If the other woman needed more of an explanation, Rain could give it.

[Tala Whitedeer] “Oh.” Who she’s talking to isn’t clear, but she looks, and sounds, enlightened suddenly. “Ohhhh.”

[Bridget] “Sarita.”

Three even, deadpan syllables are given out to the air as the Strider was making her escape. It sits heavily there, the slightest edge of a reaction. Maybe she’s fed up with being toyed with, or maybe she just has a death wish.

Rain makes her way forward and touches her. Bridget shrugs it off and turns to look in the direction of the stairs, towards the escaping Garou. Towards a stranger who just stumbled in on this dramatic mess.

“Come here and tell me what happened.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Okay. *L* Sarita wasn’t ~leaving~. She went to the stairs to stop Tabitha and Tala from coming up and ruining the easy letdown. That failed, clearly. Tabitha and Tala pushed by her TOWARD the couch and Sarita headed TOWARD them, toward the couch.]]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She is still stalking behind Tabitha and Tala, and she actually has her arm raised before Bridget sees her and calls to her. She stops, suddenly, and pushes by Tala and Tabitha to beat them to the coach. She stops in front of Bridget, her expression somber and sympathetic, but giving the kin the respect of not sugar-coating it.

“Howard got killed by some kind of Spirals the other night, sweetie. I wasn’t really clear on the details.” She gives Bridget a sad smile. “I’m sorry.”

[Erek Skulason] *Erek’s heavy steps can be heard as he makes his way up them from the kitchen. His movements slowing to a pause at the very top as the crown of blond shaggy hair is the first thing they see, followed by the lean frame kid attached to it. Blond eyebrows rose up, meshing into the folds of skin that wrinkle across his forehead, a questioning look shining in his eyes. His tongue darts out, wetting across the chapped line of a lower lip*

What the hell?

*Their voices prick his ears, their breeding assaults his nose, the high amount of rage and estrogen brimming from the Black Fury is enough to make the Get of Fenris stand at the top of the stairs and move no further into the room as he looks at the couch with the girls on it*

[Tabitha Reese] Tabitha lets out an explosion in some other language to follow Sarita’s news breaking.

[Rain] The Gaian has gone stiff-limbed and noticeably anxious by now. Her attention strays ever more often to the Fury, and if she could close her eyes and wish herself out of existence then she damned well would just now. Anyone in the room can read her fear off her as plain as daylight just now, a withering and diminishing thing that damps even the warm and usually inclusive spark of her personality.

Tabitha comes closer, and Rain can’t even force herself to stay put any longer. Once the Fury passes, she hurries across to gather her coat and things up in a blue-and-brown armful and would have dashed straight down the stairs but Erek was in her way.

So she looks, from him, to the couch, like a cornered thing. Skittish. Waiting for an opportunity to slip past someone and out of the room.

[Bridget] Sarita is kind enough not to handle her with kid gloves, to not give some bullshit excuse or sugar coat things. Sarita watches Bridget staring back into her eyes without a trace of fear, or a trace of anything, really. A skin tab on one top of her pouty lip is chewed on. Her lashes blink a few times.

Sarita might have been expecting a reaction, but there really isn’t one. The frightening silence is broken by one Fury shouting. Bridget looks around, still deadpan, and levels that same eerily calm gaze to Erek before she slowly steps by the Get and moves down the stairs without so much as a word.

[Tala Whitedeer] She looks uncofortable at Tabitha’s outburst, hands folding and unfolding in front of her.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She takes a deep breath, cussing up about the foulest imagery imaginable under her breath in Spanish as Bridget just walks off. She gives Tabitha a look…at least a little less angry than she was before…and looks between Rain and Bridget. Two very emotionally traumatized kin, and she can only be one place at a time.

“C’mere, chica.” She reaches out to put a hand on Rain’s shoulder, reassuringly. “Let’s go talk to Bridget. Downstairs. In a place that isn’t here and now.”

[Tabitha Reese] “How exactly was I supposed to know she didn’t know? Who the fuck IS she, anyway?”

[Tala Whitedeer] “I don’t know. How should I know?”

[Tabitha Reese] “Not you, Tal.” She looks around the room again to see who’s still where. (Because I’m confused now)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Because I told you not to say anything. Which of course, you then proceeded to say something.” She sighs. “Someone close to Howard is who. C’mon, sweetie.” She guides poor Rain through the people, toward the downstairs.

[Douglas Anderson] ((Doug had headed to follow toward the upstairs [roof?] when the other Kin went that way by way of retreating. He has not gotten too far due to stopping mid-way to sit.))

[Rain] There’s a hand on Rain’s shoulder, and her attention snaps to that, sharply, then softens as it tracks Sarita’s voice. The Gaian breathes out a shaky exhalation and nods. She lets herelf be led offstage by an unfamiliar Garou, because it puts more distance between her and the bundle of Rage that frightens her most.

[Tabitha Reese] “Lots of people were close to him” She scowls at Sarita, then the kin she’s ushering, then to Douglas, watching him now.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She clearly has a comment for Tabitha, but she bites it back. Now is not the time. Down the stairs she goes.

[Douglas Anderson] He had made it to the stairs up. He’d then sat down there and gotten a bit.. shaky. Tabitha looking at him did not help. He looks back for just long enough know that yes she was aiming at him. Then there’s that ingrained instinct not to look like he was challenging anything. Faint smile. Lots of effort. And a bit of a wave.

[Tala Whitedeer] “Tabitha. Why are people acting like this?”

[Tabitha Reese] “Because somebody is dead, Tal. People get edgy when somebody dies.” She doesn’t look away from Douglas.

“You okay there, buddy?”

[Rain] ((Sorry my kin freaked out on everyone! Thank you for the scene.))

[Erek Skulason] *Erek continues to hold his silence, leaning on the banister, shifting his weight forward as his hands brace on the top rail watching*

[Tala Whitedeer] “He’s either an ancestor-spirit or he’ll be reborn.” She shrugs, looking on edge.

[Douglas Anderson] “Err, been better? Heh.”

One heavy arm reached up and he rubbed absently at the back of his neck.

“This was apparently an eventful day to pick to show up here for the first time.”

[Tabitha Reese] She glances back to Tala, her gaze trailing to take in Erek before returning to Douglas. “New, hey? Who are you with?”

A Longer Talk With Tabitha and Tala

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She cocks a brow, grinning. “Yeah, I do. Why, what or who did she do this time?”

[Azra Dzananovic] Azra’s makeup looks almost professionally done: from the blue of her eye shadow to the cat eye liner around her blue eyes. Her hair is swept together low at her neck, a few longer bits are brushed to the side out of her eyes.

Her eyes consume the entire room in one sweeping glance. She notes the placement of the only male and the newly arrived females – one of which she has met if only briefly. She’s in the room, her Rage a wall of heat that announces her arrival long before any real sound does.

Azra nods to Sarita and Tabitha before letting one hip come to rest on the arm of the couch on which Ray sits.

[Tabitha Reese] Her head cants and she takes in Sarita with one long, unblinking look before answering. “Nothing. Should she have?”

The stare is interrupted only by Azra’s entrance, at which point it’s turned on the Lord.

[Ray Ostermann] The man gets no answer from any of the women who enter the room, and that situation gets a perplexed look before the man chuckles to himself and takes another sip of the bourbon. His eyes however do fall upon Azra, the woman having seated herself as far away from Ray as humanly possible.

He gestures to the couch proper with an award winning smile despite the wave upon wave of rage that came from her and the other woman and spoke. “There is plenty of seating you know. And I don’t tend to bite.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Not necessarily. Just checking.” She looks over, noting Azra and smiles. “Hey, you from the bar. You got here, awesome. Usually my directions are for shit; glad it worked out.”

She looks at Rey, head cocking, and chuckles. “Well that’s no fun.”

[Tabitha Reese] She moves around the couch to find a seat, the smear of blood on her jeans standing out faintly against the dark denim. There’s a moment of deliberation before she chooses a spot, putting herself where she can have all of them in her line of vision.

[Azra Dzananovic] Her attention turns to Ray then, once he speaks. Her gaze sits squarely on his handsome face. That he says he doesn’t bite induces the faintest of smiles – just an edging of one side of her mouth upward, really.

“No.” She says quietly, “But I do.” Having said that she moves toward the open space Ray offered.

“I did, thank you for your assistance.” The smile given to the Strider tries very hard to be friendly, but there’s something in Azra’s gaze that says she is not capable of being anything remotely close to friendly. At least not genuinely.

“You seem comfortable here. ” Blue eyes cut to Ray. From where she sits, he can very probably smell the Chanel No. 5 she’s wearing. “Maybe you can assist me?”

One leg crosses the other at the knee and Azra doesn’t sit fully back on the couch. Shes sits on the edge of the cushion, hands neat in her lap.

[Ray Ostermann] Ray smirks as Sarita says that hes no fun and he shrugs. “I don’t tend to…I find it a bad idea to bite the wild life.” He gestures back to Azra to emphasize. “They tend to bite back, sometimes in ways I might not enjoy.” He gives Azra a wink before he takes another savouring sip.

Ray laughs and holds his arms out before him, one hand still holding the tumbler of bourbon which flashes in the light. “I am known as a man who can do such things yes.” He says as he lets his arms fall back to the couch and inclines his head ever so slightly towards her. “The multi-million dollar question of course is…what is it that you need assistance with?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She chuckles as Ezra heads toward the kin and shrugs, moving to pick up the remote and take a seat somewhere. Tabitha gets a glance. “What happened to you?”

[Tabitha Reese] “What do you mean, what happened to me?” She hunches a little, hands jabbed further into her pockets.

[Azra Dzananovic] Wild life. When he says this Azra’s top lip twitches just faintly. Blue eyes remain focused on Ray. He is lounging, she sits with her spine straight and posture perfect.

“I need to find my family in your city, yes?” Her accent is a strange mix of something near to Russian and French. “I was told of this place, but no names. I’d like to have names.” Lips painted mauve break apart as she smiles, exposing teeth.

“My name is Azra Dzananaovi&+263;. I’m a child of Thunder.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She points at the blood smear. “Either you rag from your knee, or something happened.”

[Tabitha Reese] She seems less concerned once Sarita points out the blood. She looks down at the still slightly damp in the middle smear and shrugs a shoulder. “Accident.”

[Ray Ostermann] “Ahhhh.” Ray says as he sets the bourbon down on the arm of the couch and sits up a little straighter. “Well that I can certainly help with as he gestures to himself. “A child of Thunder by birth myself.” He says as he pulls a pad of paper and a pen out of his inner coat pocket and goes to write down a few names.

“My name is Ray Ostermann, Kin mind you..the man you will want to find however is named Lukas, most people know him as Wyrmbreaker, hes would be the Tribal elder.”

He keeps writing, getting a list of names going for the woman. “There are a few trueborn of thunder around. I’m sure you’ll meet them in good time.” He says tearing off the paper as he stood and walked to her, offering the paper from between two fingers.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, next time try shaving with a razor, not a broadsword.” She grins. “That might help.”

[Tala Whitedeer] Figures. She sighs heavily to herself as she comes into the room. Her entrance is a bit timid, until she spots Tabitha. She scowls and stomps in that direction.

[Azra Dzananovic] When he gets close enough to hand her the paper she leans in to take it, casually, and closes her eyes to soak up the smell of him. Blue eyes open slowly, like a cat too long lounging in summer sun rays. “You donot smell like Thunder’s blood.” She whispers. The paper is folded and Azra stands, one hand smoothing down the side of her pressed slacks.

“Thank you…” She says, tipping her head to one side. “Enjoy your drink Mr. Ostermann.” Her voice is as quiet and as purposeful as her steps. She directs the sound toward Ray and it doesn’t travel very far if she doesn’t want it too.

(My belly is growling and dinner is DONE *G* I’m off to eat, be back after dinner and Jersey Shore!)

[Tabitha Reese] “It isn’t my blood.” By her tone, she’s missed the sarcasm and just thinks Sarita to be slow.

Tala’s glare is matched with one of her own, but she holds a hand out to her packmate when she gets closer.

[Ray Ostermann] Ray chuckles as she heads off, he himself enjoys the fine smell of her perfume and the quality of her upbringing before shrugging as she heads off. “Not all of us were lucky enough to be born with a class vintage.” He says as he waves professionally to her. “It was a pleasure Ms. Dzananovic.” He says before returning to his seat.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “‘Smell like Thunder’s blood’?” She arches a brow, watching Azra head off before she looks at Ray. “That’s it. I’m bottling a new cologne called “Thunder’s Blood,” just so you can wear it and call bullshit.”

[Ray Ostermann] Ray laughs as his head tilts back ever so slighty and he looks between the women still present and leaned a little closer. “As I said…by birth, right now you could say I’m on permanent loan to another team.” He says with a wink as he leans back and points at Sarita like he likes what shes taking about.

“However…I think I could market that very…very easily.”

[Tabitha Reese] Her eyes flicker to Ray and narrow, very slightly.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She smirks at Ray. “I’ll get right on that.” She looks over at Tala. “Hola, chica. S’up?”

[Tala Whitedeer] “You could have said you were going somewhere.”

[Tabitha Reese] “You could have too, and not made me spend all night looking for you.”

[Ray Ostermann] Ray’s no slouch and he notes Tabiltha’s narrowed eyes and he gives her a curious look. “If you have something to say my dear…say it.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Ooh, shit. Girl spat. She subtly focuses her attention back to Ray, letting them have their time. “So, we haven’t actually met yet.” She rises and heads over, offering her hand. “Sarita. No-Moon of the Striders.”

[Tabitha Reese] Her attention is abruptly focused on Ray “I. Am. Not. Your. Dear.”

[Tala Whitedeer] “Real mature.” She nods at Sarita. “Hi. Sorry. Tabi’s just being a bitch right now.”

[Ray Ostermann] Ray’s attention held briefly on Tabitha, that smile still on his lips even as his eyes grow slightly darker. But then his attention slips to Sarita and the warmth spills back into his eye’s as he holds out a strong hand and gives her a shake. “Ray Ostermann, currently Kin to the Bone Gnawers.” Does he look it, nope, smell it, certainly not…

His eyes then turn back to Tabitha and inclines his head towards her, as if in apology. “My apologies, what do you prefer?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Tala gets a smile and shrug. “Hey, s’between y’all. Me meto donde me necesiten.” A pause. “Or where I might enjoy it.”

She looks back at Ray. “Pleasure to meet you, Ray.” She doesn’t seem wierded out by the Gnawer association. Stranger shit has happened.

[Tabitha Reese] Ray is spared by Tala’s comment, and the Fury’s eyes pin instead on her packmate “I had to clean up your mess, Tala. That’s where I was.”

[Ray Ostermann] Ray also offers his hand to Tala the man used to moving about the room and shaking hands. “The pleasure is mine.” He says in that smooth voice, his face all smiles as he looks at Tabitha one more time. “I’m used to such things, its quite alright.”

[Tala Whitedeer] “Yeah. MY fault. Sure. Whatever.” She rolls her eyes and sits.

[Tabitha Reese] “He was a witness, Tal.” She pulls her hand out of her pocket to rake it through her hair, more blood covering her wrist that she doesn’t seem to notice as Ray offers his hand to Tala. She’s on high alert suddenly, watching for trouble that only she can see coming.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Witness? She can’t help but look over at that.

[Ray Ostermann] Ray also perks up at the womans sudden attentiveness wondering precisely what was happening now. His cool was still his however as he picked up what remained of his bourbon and downed it.

[Tala Whitedeer] “You’re just paranoid.”

[Kyle] (Where is everyone?)

[Tabitha Reese] “No such thing.” She relaxes visibly when Ray moves away, hands jammed in her jacket pockets again.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Common Room. Sarita near couch, Tabitha and Tala sitting elsewhere, Ray moving away from the two]]

[Tabitha Reese] (Tab and Tal are on the other end of the couch, I thought. Either way!)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “If you guys need an alibi, lemme know.” She grins good-naturedly “I’m good at those.”

[Tala Whitedeer] “Yeah. There is. There really is.”

[Tabitha Reese] “I might.” She seems frighteningly serious as she looks at Sarita again.

[Ray Ostermann] Ray checks his watch and looks at the women gathered around him. “If you’ll excuse me ladies, I need to be off myself. Work to be done, and money to be maid…though I’m sure I will see you all quite soon.”

He waves to them all before heading for the stairs. “It’s been a pleasure.”

[Tala Whitedeer] “Go wash your hands, Tabitha.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Later, Ray. Nice meeting you.” She lets him go, then turns her direction back to the packmates. “What happened?”

[Kyle] His heavy foot falls on the stairs announce his presence. After all he can’t exactly call out and his humming sure isn’t going to be heard by anyone unless they stood next to him. As he enters the common room people who know him are going to be a little surprised. He’s wearing a rather expensive black suit. Something he could never truely afford given his travelling ways. The suit is tailored and fits him perfectly. Unbuttoning the jacket he dodges around Ray and gives a casual smile and wave before looking to everyone else in the room. He wasn’t expecting people which is obvious from the look of surprise on his face.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Her head swivels around to Kyle, and she blinks before smiling. “Well, holy shit.” She smiles and stands, cocking her head to the side. “You clean up nice, you know that?”

[Tabitha Reese] “Why?” She asks Tala, but doesn’t take her eyes off of Ray.

[Tala Whitedeer] “They’re bloody.” She shrugs at Sarita. “Tabitha either hurt or killed someone. You get used to it.”

[Kyle] Gives that grin he has and shrugs as he starts to undoe the blood red tie around his neck.
“Thanks people keep telling me that. Still prefer my casual gear. How’s things?”
Looking to Tala and Tabitha with a confused look.

[Tabitha Reese] “Oh.” She pulls her hands out of her pockets long enough to scowl at them, then jams them back in and hops up to go to the bathroom.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Eh. Got shit hashed out with Ames last night. There was much in the way of yelling, and possibly some middle fingers. But I think we’re cooler now.”

Tala gets another look, curious now. “Anyone who had it coming?”

[Tabitha Reese] She glances back over her shoulder, looking Kyle over before answering Sarita. “He’s a rapist.” There’s a slow, satisfied smile before she amends. “WAS a rapist” And she’s off to the bathroom to wash her hands.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Oh. Well, then, all good.”

[Tala Whitedeer] “Like I said. You kin of get used to it.”

[Kyle] Now he seems even more confused as he watches the ladies. Looks to Sarita and gives a thumbs up.
“Good to hear. Back in a sec. Going to go change.”
Wanders off and vanishes into his room.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She cringes to herself as Kyle heads off. “I hope he doesn’t mind the mess…” She smiles a bit and sits down, nodding to Tala. “Well, like I said. You need an alibi, lemme know. I got lots of alibi skills.”

[Tala Whitedeer] “I don’t know if she does. I’m fine. Thank you, though.” She smiles at Sarita. She seems oddly calmer without Tabitha directly in proximity.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “O’ course.” She leans back, extending her feet as she stretches them. “So let me remember…forgive me, I’ve met a LOT of people so far. From South Dakota, right?”

[Tala Whitedeer] “Well. Not originally but yeah, I was there for a while. From the Qualla originally.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Right. North Carolina, my bad. I’ll take a half-point for a partially correct answer.” A grin. “What brought you two here?”

[Tabitha Reese] She’s examining her hands to make sure she’s gotten all the traces of blood when she gets back, putting them back in her pockets before going to sit on the couch again.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Her phone vibrates and she checks it, a bit of a frown coming over her face. She texts back and sets it away.

[Tala Whitedeer] “Tabitha did. She knows someone.” She quiet down a little as Tabitha comes back into the room. One can almost literally watch her shrink.

[Tabitha Reese] Oblivious to the shrinking, she settled next to Tala and pats her leg gently. “What are you guys talking about?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks up, looking between them silently for a moment. “Just what brought you guys here.”

[Tala Whitedeer] “Just. Like I said. Tabi knows someone.” A quick shrug.

[Kyle] Now he feels human. Wandering back in he’s wearing what he refers to as his casual gear. Long sleeve black shirt and jeans. In his hands he holds his heavy black boots. Around his neck is his familiar black leather collar. His hair remains tied back and neat. Casually he slumps into an available chair and listens.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks over at Kyle and smiles at him when he comes in.

[Tabitha Reese] “Yeah. Tribemate.” She watches Kyle but apparently doesn’t see him as a threat, leaning into Tala a little as she settles in.

[Tala Whitedeer] “I still haven’t met her though.” She wriggles out from under Tabitha. “Where’s the bathroom?”

[Tabitha Reese] She manages to point with her elbow. “Down the hall.”

[Tala Whitedeer] She scurries down the hall.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Did AIM just die for you?]]
to Tabitha Reese

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She watches Tala go and then looks back to Tabitha. “That’s cool. Nice to know people in the city you’re headed to…”

[Tabitha Reese] AIM and ICQ, yeah.
to Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Good, not just me then.]]
to Tabitha Reese

[Tabitha Reese] “What did you say to her?” Her tone is nothing less than accusatory as she glares over at Sarita.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I didn’t say anything, chica.” She seems unoffended by the glare, smiling it off. “Literally, just got a reminder where she’s from and asked what brought you guys here.”

[Tabitha Reese] “Then why is she cowering?”

[Tabitha Reese] Not even Express on the AIM site is working. Bah.
to Sarita Ecos de la Risa

[Kyle] Rasises a brow as he watches the unsuual conversation. HE’s not sure what he’s missed but can see in his eyes he’s wondering if he should get out of the way.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “That’s a very good question.” She looks right at Tabitha. “Didn’t start until you walked back in.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Try now, mine are back]]
to Tabitha Reese

[Tabitha Reese] “Bullshit.” She settles in on the couch, looking Kyle over again.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’.”

[Tabitha Reese] “We’ll see”

[Tala Whitedeer] She comes back down the hall, sitting back down carefully.

[Tabitha Reese] She gives Tala a quick smile, reaching up to muss her hair. “You okay?”

[Tala Whitedeer] She allows Tabitha to muss her hair, then readjusts the flowers. “I’m fine.”

[Tabitha Reese] “I’m sorry, okay? I should have told you where I was going, but you would have tried to stop me.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She just shrugs and sits back, looking to Kyle. “So, what was with the penguin suit?”

[Tala Whitedeer] She shrugs at Tabitha.

[Tabitha Reese] “Don’t be mad, okay?” She puts an arm around Tala and pulls her closer.

[Tala Whitedeer] “I’m not mad.” She gets pulled closer to Tabitha, not resisting.

[Tabitha Reese] She settles in with her packmate, giving Sarita a satisfied smirk.

[Tala Whitedeer] “So. Um. Anyway.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She pretends to ignore the smirk, though there’s no way that’s possible. This one…she saves shit away for later, and then drops memory grenades when they’re at their deadliest.

[Tabitha Reese] “Anyway what?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Did we lose you?]]
to Kyle

[Tala Whitedeer] “I don’t know. What were we talking about?”

[Tabitha Reese] “Sarita thinks that I make you uncomfortable.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks back at Tala and Tabitha. “Not a hell of a lot, really. So other than killing rapists…A+ on that, by the way…how’s the city treating you?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Party foul. I’m callin’ five seconds rule on those words…they were totally on the floor for more than that before you put them in my mouth.”

[Tabitha Reese] She appears to be about to say something about Sarita’s first statement, before blinking in utter confusion at the second.

[Tala Whitedeer] “I…Huh?” She looks confused, then apparently decides to focus on one set of words. “The city is nice. As cities go I guess.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “You. Put words. In My Mouth.”

[Tabitha Reese] “Isn’t that what you said though? That she wasn’t uncomfortable until I came back?”

[Tala Whitedeer] She speaks up, tone clearly desperate. “I don’t know about the food, though. I don’t know how you people get by with that crap.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Not exactly. But let’s let it drop, cool?” She smiles at Tala. “Ain’t my choice-a food, I swear. Definitely different than back home.”

[Tala Whitedeer] “Yeah. I don’t care for it.” There’s definitely still desperation in her tone, and she’s not quite looking at Tabitha.

[Tabitha Reese] “Jesus, Tal. Relax.”

[Tala Whitedeer] “I’m -fine-.”

[Tabitha Reese] She reaches over, gently grabbing Tala’s chin and turning her head to make the other woman look at her. “You’re not acting fine.”

[Tala Whitedeer] “Stop.” Her tone becomes a bit whiny, almost childish.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She sighs, letting them work it out. Probably for the best.

[Tabitha Reese] She scowls and lets go of her chin.

[Tala Whitedeer] She looks back at Sarita. “Where are you from?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “New Mexico, originally. A little tiny place outside of Albuquerque. Been all over since then.”

[Tala Whitedeer] “Oh. That sounds nice.”

[Tabitha Reese] Tabitha settles in to stew, watching Tala.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “It was pretty cool…I enjoyed growing up there, I guess.” She smiles. “Good as any other place, I guess. Better’n most, even.”

[Tala Whitedeer] “I’ve only seen pictures.” She shrugs, obviously making an effort to ignore Tabitha’s stare.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Totally different world than here.” Her tone is warm and fond as she talks about home. “I know a lot of people look at the desert in a bad light, but growing up there…fantastic. I loved it.”

[Tala Whitedeer] “It sounds very lovely.”

[Tabitha Reese] “I’ve never been to the desert.” Her gaze moves from Tala suddenly, fixing on Sarita now.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, I ain’t gonna lie…there were shit parts of it too. Happens all around, no matter where you go. Meth heads, cops more concerned with border jumpers than murderers and so on.”

[Tala Whitedeer] “That’s everywhere you go.” She shrugs.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “True.” She looks at Tabitha. “You should go some time. You can get away from all this city shit for the most part. It’s peaceful. Free.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[The “ture” was to Tala]]

[Tabitha Reese] “Nowhere is peaceful. There is evil everywhere you go.”

[Tala Whitedeer] “Jesus, Tabi.”

[Tabitha Reese] “What? It’s true. I was tortured in one of the most peaceful places in the country. You can’t escape it.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “No, she’s right.” She nods. “I ain’t saying there isn’t evil there. Note that I did say, ‘for the most part,’ chica. But it’s not all hell, like some of the rest of the world.”

[Tala Whitedeer] “No wonder you’re so pissy, if that’s how you feel.”

[Tabitha Reese] She scowls at Tala “I’m not pissy.”

[Tala Whitedeer] “You realize how ridiculous that was with you glaring at me, right?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] And this is one where the jokester girl is smart enough to stay quiet and let them argue.

[Tabitha Reese] “How are you and your sister getting settled in?” She looks to Sarita, trying to calm her growing irritation.

[Tala Whitedeer] “Now you ignore it. Great.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Fairly well. Only one major screaming match so far.” She grins, arms folding over her chest. “I consider that to be a very good start.”

[Tabitha Reese] “Screaming match?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Yeah, screaming match.” She nods. “We’re sisters. Fairly new to being sisters, but sisters nonetheless. Therehow, we are biologically implanted with the ability to piss each other off in ways that no one else in the WORLD can.” A smirk. “That’s just kinda how it work, y’know?”

[Tala Whitedeer] “Which one is your sister?”

[Tabitha Reese] “No. I don’t have any siblings. My mother died when I was very young.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Amy,” she says to Tala. “She’s crashin’ in Kyle’s room with me. …when she’s actually crashing here, anyway.”

She looks at Tabitha and nods. “I didn’t either, until a year ago. Grew up an only child. My mom died when I was fifteen and dad wasn’t around…not the same, but I know what that’s like, in a way.”

[Tala Whitedeer] “Oh. I don’t remember her.” She shrugs, looking over at Tabitha.

[Tabitha Reese] “Tal and Rollie are the closest thing I’ve ever had to siblings.”

[Tala Whitedeer] She grits her teeth. “Tabitha.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Um…maybe a new topic?” She purses her lips, looking between the two. [[Sorry, got busy there for a few.]]

[Tabitha Reese] She sighs at Tala. “Fuck’s sake, Tal. I loved him. I’m not going to go the rest of my life not talking about him because he died.” She nods to Sarita. “A new topic might be good. Have you found any packs to look into yet?

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She snorts in amusement. “I wish. I know of lots of individuals, but like one pack. And they got enough issues without me crowding my own in.”

[Tala Whitedeer] “You two fought ALL the time.”

[Tabitha Reese] “That doesn’t mean I didn’t love him.” She shrugs at Tala, then nods at Sarita. “Seem to be a lot of floaters around here. That might be good for forming something new.”

[Tala Whitedeer] “ALL the time. Over everything. You got in a fistfight over fucking pizza toppings.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “That could have its benefits, yeah.”

[Tabitha Reese] “He wanted to put pineapple and tomatoes together, for fuck’s sake”

[Tala Whitedeer] “You don’t fistfight people over that.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “I’ve heard of fistfights over worse…”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Hell, she’s HAD fistfights over worse, not that she’ll mention it. You put my gun in the sock drawer, you crazy bitch was not a quote anyone but her sister ever needed to know came out of her lips.

[Tabitha Reese] “He was a Fenrir. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t fistfight over.”

[Tala Whitedeer] “Whatever.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “You just described…well, at least three tribes off the top of my head, chica.”

[Tabitha Reese] “They’re the worst offenders, though. Generally.”

[Tala Whitedeer] She’s sitting back in the couch, arms crossed tightly over her chest, scowling at the world.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Well, if you include the word fist instead of claw, yes.” She shrugs and sits back. “Anyway. What about you guys? Who’ve you met so far?”

[Tala Whitedeer] “Pretty much you. Some pretty boy child of Fenris.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “That’s it?” She blinks. “Jesus.”

[Tabitha Reese] “Remy” She nods. “And Hunter, and Howard.”

[Tala Whitedeer] “Who are those people?”

[Tabitha Reese] “Remy is the pretty boy Fenrir. Hunter is Howard’s friend.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “Hunter and Howard I know. Let’s see…and Howard’s packmate Patrick. A ton of kinfolk. Um…Mila, Lukas, Katherine…couple others, I think.”

[Tala Whitedeer] “So you’re close to Howard now?”

[Tabitha Reese] “I wouldn’t say close…”

[Tala Whitedeer] “What WOULD you say?”

[Tabitha Reese] “You know what I say? I say I’m going back to the motel” She stands up, scowling. “Sarita, nice to see you again.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] “See you, Tabitha.” She nods to her. “Have a good one.”

[Tala Whitedeer] She stands as well. “This isn’t over.”

[Tabitha Reese] “It should be, since there’s nothing to even argue about.” She nods to Sarita, and heads out.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She watches the two. It’s like watching a boxing match without a ring, referee, or any actual punches being thrown, really.

[Tala Whitedeer] “Good night.” She scowls and heads out after Tabitha.

Amy and Sarita Get To Know Their Fellow Newbies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Amunet Trujillo]
“That’s the one.”

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

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

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

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Nice is overrated.”

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

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

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

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Oh fuck off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Tala Whitedeer]
She follows Tabitha, looking around.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Hm? What?”

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

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

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Oh. Hi. I’m Tala.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Tala Whitedeer]
She looks completely lost.

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

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Oh. Is she?”

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

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

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

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

[Amunet Trujillo]
“Or what?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Just don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Tala Whitedeer]
“You did what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Locations! Et cetera!]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Tala Whitedeer]
“I’m fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

He raises his eyebrows.

“Entertaining?” He says dryly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Hi. I’m Tala.”

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

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

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

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

[Patrick Llewelyn]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Tala Whitedeer]
“I’m fine.”

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

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

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

Then his voice is muffled by distance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Tala Whitedeer]
“The Qualla.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Iechyd Da.”

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

He wipes his mouth and slams his shot down.

“Good stuff, Jenny doesn’t scrimp.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“What did he do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Thanks for the RP, everybody!]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Tala Whitedeer]
She follows Tabitha, somewhat timidly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Tala Whitedeer]
“I have responsibilities.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Owl Girl Meets The Mack Daddy and Others



Water runs, then shuts off. The Black Fury walks out of the bathroom as though nothing ever happened.

Hunter isn’t exactly a large man, but standing next to Howard Ivers he looks like a veritable wall. He could keep out Mongolian raiders if he wanted to. Whilst Howard is taller, Hunter is stocky, but they both have green eyes and they both smile far too often to be healthy.

“I think ya’ got’em mixed up a bit, this one’s the big mouth.”

One would think that that storm cloud moving over Remy’s features was the achromat’s version of a ray of sunlight bursting through the clouds the way the hipster breaks into a grin as he ambles over to the table. For someone who looks and oftentimes smells as though he doesn’t bathe with any regularity, who is rarely without some sort of burning herb in hand, he has well-cared-for teeth.

Where’s his bigmouthed packmate. The Fiann extends his right arm until his wrist pops out from beneath the sleeve of his leather jacket and consults the back of his wrist. There isn’t a watch there; he stares at it for a few seconds anyway, then returns his hand to his hip with something of a flourish.

“Probably writin’ a sad song on his guitar and havin’ himself a cry,” he says.

Hunter thinks he got them mixed up. Howard shakes his head.

“Nah… I’m the loudmouth. Very easy to mix up, especially if…” He turns to the table. “True story: I caught this fucker walkin’ around with two left shoes on the other day.”

[Tabitha Reese]
Tabitha laughs loudly all of a sudden, hand clasped over her mouth to stop it as she elbows Tala. “Stop!”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“I’m not doing anything. I’m sitting here, Tabby.” She shakes her head and sighs.

[Tabitha Reese]
“You’re a goddamned liar.” She elbows Tala again, then looks up to the two men. “Hey. How are ya?”

“I only got one pair’a a shoes you simple fuck.” Hunter says, snatches out a chair from a nearby table and pushes it with the back facing towards their table. He straddles it with his elbows resting on it.

“I’m Hunter, and I’m good thanks.” He says, eyes flicking between the occupants of the table. “This fuck here,” and he throws a thumb over his shoulder and turns.

“Is Howard.” He saves the insults, Howard proves how much of a dumbass he is without any help.

[Tabitha Reese]
“Tabitha” She hides her hands in her pockets again, nodding to her packmate. “This is Tala. We’re new.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Hi.” She looks the two over, not bothering to conceal it as she sizes them up.

“And it sounds like you’re thinkin’ about one of us naked,” he says. He looks between Hunter and Remy, then jerks a thumb at the Fenrir. “It was him, wasn’t it?”

“Well we know it wasn’t you Howard, that’s for sure.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Maybe not so much naked as on fire.” She offers Remy another charming smile.

Now, all things considered, Remy’s been more or less easygoing tonight. Sure, he laid down the law so far as his kin was concerned. Sure, he turned around and smacked said kin upside the head. Sure, he seems to have no social graces whatsoever, or at least pretends that’s the case — but the teasing between Fenrir and Fury tonight has, on the whole, been of the friendly-ribbing sort.

That sort of changes when Howard and his big buddy approach. Something in the young Fenrir’s face tightens down. He sits back in his chair, a sort of exaggerated and deliberate broadening out of his physical presence that claims the air around him, the space around his feet.

“Why don’t you two jokers quit pretending we’re friends and take your comedy show on the road,” he says. “If the bulldykes here want to join you that’s their call. But I got here first and I don’t much want to eat my sandwich looking at your pipsqueak faces.”

“‘Bull… dy…'”

Howard turns to Hunter and drops into a crouch rather than sitting. When he speaks, it’s in an exaggerated stage whisper.

“I don’t speak Ignorant Twat, what’s a bulldyke?”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Oh for fuck’s sake. We are NOT fucking.”

“It’s a woman that doesn’t want to fuck you on principle,” Remy replies instantly, almost lazily, “and not just because your face looks like a kicked-in pile of horse shit. You noisy little cunt. Get lost.”

“Alright, alright, don’t get your knickers in a twist, Prettyboy,” he says, holding up a hand in a lopsided Don’t shoot gesture.

Hunter is amused, he really is amused. He might not be so amused if the two females he is calling bulldykes weren’t Garou. They can take care of themselves. Hunter would like to see Remy call Joey Oliver a bulldyke. As it stands he is trying his best but then Howard has to go and be Howard, and it comes out.

“pffffffftttttttttt.” Air escaping as he laughs with a look of Oh shit on his face.

“Didn’t ya’ say he don’t like that Howard?”

Remy’s eyebrows hop up on his forehead. Then he pops down the last of his sandwich — and might we add that even with a mouth full of half-chewed food, through which he lets out one of the fouler belches of the century, he’s still pretty enough to turn the heads of two college girls across the room — and dusts his hands off.

“Okay, pipsqueak,” he says, food-muffled. “You asked for it.”


[Izzy Montoya]
Speaking of noisy little cunts… [Ok, not really, but it seemed like a good enough line to steal.]

The door opens, as doors do when nudged from one side or the other, and she stalks in like she owns the joint. She doesn’t, of course. She walks into most places like that – it’s all in the attitude. She pulls off her gloves and stalks to the counter, and orders her coffee – hot and black, just like she likes her… well. Coffee.

Her features are strong, her breeding pure, her blood that of Viking Heroes. Her hair dark and longish, her eyes dark, her smile non-existent. She is lean – and by the looks of the bags under her eyes that have luggage of their own – exhausted.

Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9

“Oh, shit,” he intones, trying not to laugh even in the face of an impending ass-kicking. Even though he’s several inches taller than Remy, the term ‘pipsqueak’ isn’t entirely a misnomer: the Fenrir has somewhere in the neighborhood of seventy pounds on the Fiann, and it’s all muscle. Thrusting the coffee into Hunter’s possession, Howard says, “TellPatrickIlovehim” and turns to run.


This is where a Fostern should really… really… really give some semblance of a shit about what was going on. She steps way from the bathroom door, and the corner with all the banter and one very Attractive Rage-o-holic draws her attention. She is the spiritual equivalent of jet lagged. Her head is swimming, and her eyes come in to focus just in time to see a fight break out.

Her hands go to her hips. Attire is comfortable. Jeans with holes (air conditioning she insists), tights (because it’s still developmentally appropriate for her to believe that tights with jeans are cool) and a hooded sweatshirt. The Fury carries a messenger bag with her. She shrugs her shoulders and wanderes towards the fray.

Literally, wanders, like the budding fight was more like finding a sale on bonbons.

Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3 (Failure at target 6)

Of course, this would be the moment that Patrick, Howard’s long suffering Galliard decides to grace the Cafe with his presence. Prayers to Broken Stone, a broad-shouldered kid with a head of sandy hair and brows to match; coupled with impossibly blue eyes was what most referred to as the quiet side of Caldera.

Put him beside Howard, and he was all but a mime. His conversation often little more than well timed shrugs or gesturing on one front or another. Presently, he’s wearing his work attire — that being dark blue coveralls and his battered leather jacket atop them. There are black fingerless gloves on his hands, and he’s crossing the street toward the Cafe in question when he sees Howard, shooting out the door.

His eyebrows rise.

He watches, then flicks them toward his pursuer.

[last call for inits! i’ma go review another section of my manuscript, and if there are no other inits when i get back i’ma declare.]

Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9
[Oh, why not! TUSSLE! +6]

[Tala Whitedeer]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Tabitha Reese]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Tala Whitedeer]

[Tabitha Reese]

[1. yell BOO! as Howard streaks out the door, sit back down.]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She’s whistling just for the sake of whistling as she makes her way down the street in the general direction of the Cafe, walking at an unhurried pace. She’s got a hand-rolled cigarette out one corner of her mouth, and she pauses once she crosses at an intersection to light it before continuing on.

[1. Look disgusted with Remy
2. Lean against wall, James Dean style, and smoke a cigarette.]

[1a: realize Remy’s not chasing him
1b: wander back inside]

[Tala Whitedeer]
((grab a fork. Hold said fork in deathgrip))

[Tabitha Reese]
(Trip Howard as he attempts to flee)

[ok, i’ma wait to see outcome of the trip and then probably just go back IC *LOL*]

[Tabitha Reese]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)
(Rolling for the trip!)

Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 1, 3 (Failure at target 6) [WP]
[Athletics+Dexterity: GO GO HIPSTER BOOTS]

“OOGLABOOGLABOO!” Remy yells — nay, roars — as Howard turns to run. Heads turn all around the room, and not just because Remy is fucking hot. The ‘pipsqueak’ streaks toward the door. Tabitha sticks out her foot. Howard goes sprawling. Neighboring tables gasp in alarm. Are you okay?! someone wants to know.

Remy picks his toppled chair back up off the ground, sits again, uses the pad of his thumb to pick up a few crumbs of his sandwich. “Dumbass,” he comments, and reaches across the table to high-five Tabitha.

[Tabitha Reese]
She returns the high five, settling back in her seat and gently prying the fork out of Tala’s hand.

[Izzy Montoya]
Her coffee arrives as one is running off. There’s a tension about her lower back, dancing up her spine, as she turns her head enough to track what’s going on. Only when everyone stands down – for now – does she turn to wrap her fingers around the cup, and move to the side so others can order as needed. She tucks her gloves into her pocket, then lifts her cup to take a swallow that’s far to big for how hot the coffee is. She makes a face, a slight grimace, as the hot liquid burns over her tongue.

He wipes out in spectacular fashion, nearly taking out one of the table’s neighbors as he crashes into the floor, and a normal person would be pissed off, Rage flaring from embarrassment or pain or any other strong emotion that comes from being tripped while in the act of running from a man who looks like an underwear model.

Howard doesn’t yell, or strike back at the bulldyke, or fire back when Remy calls him a dumbass. Granted, he loses his sunglasses, so all he can do for several seconds is squint, but he doesn’t start fumbling for them. He flops onto his back and starts laughing.

“Oh Jesus,” he announces, laughter dying down, then points where he thinks Tabitha is supposed to be; his finger ends up aimed somewhere around her navel. “Y’know, you ought to be careful, in some cultures that’s considered foreplay.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
Prying the fork loose is easier said than done, but Tabitha IS stronger, so with a small whine of protest, off it goes.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She exhales a drag of smoke and goes back to her whistling, the shrill tones of “Twisted Nerve,” as the cafe grabs her attention. With a shrug, she directs her steps toward it, stubbing the cigarette out just outside. Someone could use a coffee.

She looks at the pile of people. The Fenrir, who puffed up all nice aand big, the Fianna who started to run, then was tripped… and then faceplanted. She inhales slowly, and a little more deeply than she realizes. The younger Fury clenches her jaw, and heads over. There’s high fiving. Then laughing. Her jaw unclenches. She shrugs, and heads for the door.

“Hey,” she says to Patrick on the way out, “I don’t think you can smoke in here.”

[Tabitha Reese]
She’s about to answer Howard when the dark haired woman matching the description she was given captures her attention. Now her, she’d go bulldyke for. Getting up quickly, she pats Tala’s shoulder and makes her way over to Alethea.

(Patrick is still outside! He’ll stay there til I return with dinner in a min!)

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Where are you going?” She seems alarmed suddenly.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She glances at Patrick as she slips in the door, recognizing him from the other night in the hallway of crowded bathrooms, towels and such that she’d stumbled upon. She gives him a nod and a wink as she slips inside, glancing around on her way toward the counter.

“You know,” Remy says to Tabitha and Tala, “you two aren’t half bad. I’m staying at the Brotherhood. You should look me up sometime. Like if you want to go hunting or something.”

On that note, he finishes picking crumbs off his plate and cocks his eyebrows at Drew. “I’m taking off, girl. You want me to walk you to your car so you can drive me to my boardinghouse?”

[Tabitha Reese]
“I’ll be right back. No stabbing anyone.”

She nods to Remy “We’ll do that.” Then she’s off to catch up with the other Fury.

(ohshit! Sorry, delete last line!)

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Bye.” She nods curtly at Remy, then looks over at Tabby, watching her go with a look of growing displeasure.

[Drew Roscoe]
Drew spent the whole of this ruckus just leaned back in her chair, watching the goings-on while looking like she couldn’t be bothered to be upset or anxious about it anymore. The potential of a scuffle is left with a roar of ‘ooga booga’ to chase the curly-haired Fianna away, who winds up tripping over Tabitha’s foot and crashing into some chairs and a table. The people who work are arguing near the end of the counter about whether they should kick them out, leave them, or call the cops and claim someone’s disturbing the peace.

Her coffee’s empty for the most part, cooled off enough that it’s not as enjoyable anymore, when Remy finishes the crumbs from his sandwich and, in a roundabout way that made it sound like he would be helping her, asked for a ride back to The Brotherhood of Thieves. Drew took a last drink of her mug, set it on the table, and stood up. “Alright.”

He keeps calling her Girl and she doesn’t correct him. Just goes ahead and pulls her dark blue winter coat on, buttons it up to her collar bone, and makes a beeline for the door.

Hunter has performed one of his disappearing acts or is eating paper napkins or something equally constructive, leaving Howard to either fumble around for his sunglasses for another two minutes until he finds them or do what he ends up doing, which is abandoning them in favor of attempting to grope his way from the floor to a chair. In order to pursue Alethea, Tabitha has to step over or around the prone Fiann; that doesn’t seem to be an impediment, and he doesn’t take the opportunity to trip her as she does so.

He lies still a moment, blinking so slowly he ends up squeezing his eyes shut a few times, then sits up. His hand finds the chair Tabitha vacated, and he clumsily–silently–picks himself off the floor and sits his skinny ass down. When his eyes, a shade of green similar to Hunter’s, move around it isn’t with the same sharpness and precision that the rest of the patrons’ do: they don’t focus on anything, and his brow is furrowed.

Slowly, it dawns on him that someone’s still here.

“I think she fancies me,” he says, and folds his hands on the table.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She pauses a second in her walk as she sees Howard on the floor, recognizing him from that other night as well. She opens her mouth as if to ask why he’s on the floor, then looks to the table everyone’s at before shrugging it off with apparent acceptance. On her way to get her coffee she goes.

It wasn’t a very subtle way to ask for a ride, but Remy looks downright delighted when he actually scores one. The resultant grin makes at least one of the arguing baristas lose her train of thought. Remy buttons back up in his winter coat, his scarf and hat and gloves, and pretty soon there’s just that little sliver of face showing again.

“Okay,” he mumbles through his buttoned collar. “I’m good. Let’s go.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
She looks over at Howard, blinking slowly. “What?”

All the while the Fianna Galliard has been outside, foot propped against the wall; smoking like a wannabe rebel. He’s flicking it away when the Fenrir appears, exiting with his ride. “Well hello, gorgeous.” Patrick drawls, for no real reason and cants the man a salute.

[Tabitha Reese]
She stops herself just short of grabbing Alethea’s arm, settling instead for brushing her fingers on the other woman’s arm to get her attention and clearing her throat.

[Drew Roscoe]
Remy was good to go, and at this point the mayhem in the coffee shop had driven up the little Kinfolk’s blood pressure to the point that she was barely paying mind to anyone else. Family first and that was all, if he wasn’t a Fenrir she would have hit the pavement long ago. She only just notices Izzy as she’s holding the door open and waiting for Remy to catch up, and the detective Kin gets a long stare before a nod of acknowledgment. No warm smiles, no waves, no ‘Hey Izzy!’, just the nod.

Once Remy’s caught up, Drew’s stepping outside along with him…..

…right into the face of another show of provocation. Drew looked up at Patrick, some guy she’s never seen or met before, calling him ‘gorgeous’. While this was a truth there was no point in denying, it had caused him to snap at the Black Fury, then charge the Fianna to scare him off. Drew was giving him a ride, she wanted to get her ass back home, have a drink or two to calm the nerves, and go to sleep so she could get her ducks in a row for her interview on Monday.

So she breaks her act of ‘good, quiet kin’ and jams a finger at Patrick. Everyone has a last straw, and the number of them wane as the hours tick by. “You. Smug guy. Shut the hell up and let us go home. Your pals are in there waiting up for you.” That finger retracts so she can jerk her thumb toward the cafe door.

She stops and turns around. Someone touches her arm, and she looks up. Her lips upturn, and something about her seems… distinctly more grounded than Tabitha remembered. She is also, simultaneously, less there than she was when they first met. She perks up-

“Oh! Hey!”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Hey.” She smiles, looking relieved. “I was going to call you. To let you know we’re here. How are you?” She’s babbling, gesturing too much with her hands as she talks.


When he turns his head towards Tala, his eyes land in the general direction her voice came from. They aren’t bloodshot or red, nor are they marred by bruising or scars; there is no discernible reason why it’s dark out and he arrived wearing sunglasses. There are some bizarre females out there who claim this young man is attractive, that he has pretty eyes or the whole skinny mop-haired asshole thing is a turn-on, but none of those bizarre females exist on this side of the fourth wall so the ones left standing shall be spared.

“Which one are you?”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Which one am I what?” She looks confused.

[Izzy Montoya]
Izzy takes a seat at an empty table, setting her cup down and rubbing her fingers together to warm them. Drew notices her, and gives a long look, which Izzy simply returns. She arches a brow, slightly, just as Drew nods, and turns to go outside.

Izzy, likewise doesn’t call out, doesn’t smile, doesn’t wave. And she likes it that way just fine.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She gets her coffee, paying with a grin, and turns around to look over the room once more. She considers for a moment before heading over to the big, occupied table and nodding at Howard. “I remember you. How’s your ass?”

She doesn’t say anything, she just hugs the other Fury and holds on like she might fall apart and float away just by being there. She is warm, and she is surprisingly solid for being… well… being her. It’s a little known, less cared about fact that Alethea Adamidas has a heavier build than her height suggests. Even with the apparent weight loss, she’s solid.

“Where are you staying?” her voice is muffled.

Another night — the night Patrick called him a Silver Fang, for example — and Remy might have flown into a fury. Tonight’s a pretty good night, though. He traded jabs with a Black Fury that gave as good as she got and miraculously didn’t get pissed; he scared Patrick’s loudmouth alpha off; he watched said Black fury trip said loudmouth alpha on his way out. Good night. Good happenings.

So there’s no frothing at the mouth. There’s no sudden lunge for the throat. There’s just a smirk that widens when Drew gives Patrick the one-finger salute.

“Aw, don’t be jealous,” Remy says, slinging his arm unapologetically around Drew and hugging her against a side that feels as solid as a slab of beef. “Charming fella like yourself, I’m sure you’ll find some company tonight.

“Better stay off this one though. Don’t think you can handle her kind of fire, Stag-boy.”

He ignores the finger, breathing smoke out his nostrils as he straightens. His bright eyes consider Drew for a beat, and he glances back at Remy. “I like her,” he notes as mildly as if he’d been commenting on a new car, already turning his shoulders toward the Cafe door.

“She’s almost got the mouth of a Fianna.”

He pulls open the door, turning with his back to it to raise both eyebrows at the pair of Fenrir. “Have a good one.”

He sits in furrow-browed thought for a grand total of two seconds, which is something of a record between Howard being asked a question and Howard spitting out an incendiary response. When he comes up with it, he snaps his fingers in an unspoken I got it.

“No, wait, you’re not the one with the–”

At which point Sarita arrives at the table. Its occupancy has dwindled significantly; only the Uktena and the Fiann are left, now, and the Fiann doesn’t appear startled or anxious that someone whose voice he’s never heard has wandered up asking him about his ass.

“I don’t remember you,” he says, without missing a beat. “What’d you do to my ass?”

[Tabitha Reese]
She hugs the other Fury back tightly, looking considerably more settled now. “It’s good to see you. We’re just in motel rooms for the moment. Come meet Tala”

[Tala Whitedeer]
Another unidentified person, and she’s definitely looking overwhelmed. Not quite shutting down, but getting there .

“But-” she says “-I have to go. There aren’t a lot of- I’m needed on the other side.”

Because when is a theurge ever not needed on the other side.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“It’s grandfathered into Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. Next time, spend a lifetime building an immunity to iocane powder, or as I like to call it, Rohypnol.” She looks over at Tala and does the upward chin tilt can be construed as a greeting. “Hola.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Oh…” She nods. “Right, of course. I”m sorry. Some other time.”

[Drew Roscoe]
Remy’s arm is tossed about her waist and draws her in against his side with no hint of shame or apology in the gesture. On another night he’d feel her shoulders hunch up uncomfortably and her muscles go tense. In another setting being hugged into so handsome a man’s side with his hand at her waist, hip, belly… anywhere in that area, that might coax a blush.

Tonight she just looks like she just figured out that the candles on her birthday cake were trick ones. Her frown is less aggressive and more annoyed, the hand that she was gesturing at the Fianna (she gets that from Remy calling him ‘Stag-boy’) drops to her side, and she just stands loose-limbed against the Godi’s side and stares up the street while Patrick compliments Remy by saying he liked her, wishes them a good night, and heads inside. One can only guess that Drew’s counting from ten backwards in her head.

A tick of the second hand passes on the clock inside the cafe, and Drew reaches into her pockets to tug on her white mittens, but doesn’t jerk her shoulder into his side or try and wrench out from under his arm. “Truck’s up the road. You’ll have to nevermind the plastic.”

She gives Tabitha a quick squeeze.

“I’ll come find you,” she tells her.

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Hi. Hello.” she nods at Sarita as well, definitely tense.

“Oh, hey, look at that, startin’ off with a date rape joke!” He lifts two thumbs to indicate his approval, sarcastic as it is, then indicates where he thinks a chair might maybe be with his finger. “You’ll fit right in.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Alright.” She nods, kissing the Fury on both cheeks before leaving the Theurge to her work and scooting back to her table and the increasingly panicked Tala.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Hey, I like putting by best foot forward. Wherever that may put it.” She grins and takes a seat, at least nice enough to not sit too close to the timid one. “I’m Sarita. Saw you during the thing with the limping and the bathroom and all that shit. It’s understandable you may not have seen me. You were focused on something else.”

[Tala Whitedeer]
“Who was that?” She snaps at Tabitha, bristling for some reason known only to her.

[Tabitha Reese]
“That was the one that I told you about.” She resists the urge to dump Howard out of her old seat, taking the one vacated by Remy instead.

[Tala Whitedeer]

“Love,” he says, sitting back with a sigh, “you’ve no idea how many days of the week you managed to describe with the words ‘limpin” and ‘bathroom.'”

His attention jumps the tracks with a speed that is enough to induce whiplash in the unconditioned.

“You seen a light-eyed fella with skin like mashed potato and a–”

Who was that?

“Jesus!” Howard says, as though she’s startled him. When Tabitha returns she’ll note that the young man, whose tribe does not announce itself in his blood and whose Rage is so scant it is barely noticed by even the most weak-willed of humans, is sans sunglasses; his expression is focused but his eyes are vacant, as though he’s staring into fog and can’t see a damned thing.

To be fair, Remy lets Drew go pretty much as soon as ‘Stag-boy’ goes in. He tugs his hat a little lower over his forehead, obscuring even his eyebrows now. Must not be from so cold a climate. God knows where he’s from — for all that easy american slang, there are sometimes hints and glimmers of muddled, myriad accents in his voice.

“Sorry about that,” he explains. “That jackass called me a Silver Fang the last time we met and then got lucky enough to win the fight.” He doesn’t even bother to explain why there was a fight. Or what it was about. It’s obvious in his mind. At least he’s honest about losing, though, shameful as it is. “That was his Alpha in there that the Fury sent sprawling. That was pretty satisfying.”

And, “Plastic?”

[Tabitha Reese]
“What’s wrong with you?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“If limping and bathroom describes multiple days, you may be quickly becoming my favorite person I’ve met here so far.” She looks up as Tabitha approaches, going quiet for a second as she looks her over and seeing how this changes the table’s dynamic.

[Tala Whitedeer]
She gives Tabitha a scowl, saying nothing.

What’s wrong with you?

“Who?” He points in Tala’s direction. “Her? I think she’s jealous.”

[Tabitha Reese]
She looks Sarita over quickly, then offers a nod. “Hey.”

Her nose wrinkles at Howard. “No, you. Why would she be jealous?”

[Drew Roscoe]
Not one to question why a pair of Garou will get into a fight, Drew instead started walking up the sidewalk once Remy’s arm unwraps from her back and side. He was gentlemanly enough not to let it linger, even went so far as to apologize for the act (though the necessity for it was beyond her, she wasn’t bothered enough to pitch a fit over it). Her shoulders shrugged, white mittened hands adjusted the lapels and collar of her coat, and she walked the curb as he explained himself, and while she explained herself in turn when the plastic was brought up and questioned.

“Huh,” is what she has to say on the pack that he’s talking about, how satisfying it had been for him to see Stag-boy’s alpha eat floor. And “Don’t worry about it,” for the apology.

As for the plastic: “I haven’t quite had a chance to get the blood cleaned off the seats yet. The week’s been hectic, to say the least.” She doesn’t have to tell the whole story, not unless he asks for it specifically. She doesn’t need to say that it’s her own blood that cakes most of the vehicle, and the rest is from an ally– none of it is from an enemy. It was a part of being Garou and, unfortunately, these situations tended to spill over and make it a part of being Kin as well. It was just a shame that they were so much more fragile.

[Tala Whitedeer]
“I’ll see you back at the motel, Tabitha.” She nods to Sarita and Howard, standing and heading for the exit. ((bedtime))

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Nice meeting you…uh, person,” she calls in Tala’s direction as she departs.

“Lady,” he says, laughing slightly as he sits back in his chair, “do I look like I’ve the slightest idea why girls do the things they do? We aren’t wired the same, for Christ’s sa–oh hey later!”

At some point Hunter walks back in, slaps Howard in the ear and sits down in a chair.

“Stop it, I don’t care what it is, just stop it.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Well, in all fairness it WOULD be dull if we were all wired the same.” She looks over at Hunter as he comes up. “You I remember too.”

“Ow!!” He sounds indignant; however, this is Howard, who only expresses genuine emotion by affecting the exact opposite. His hand goes up over his ear, and he starts laughing. “You got me in the ear, you wanker!”

Patrick steps into the Cafe — though he has been taking his own sweet time about it and saunters up to his Alpha; Howard’s shoulders get the benefit of his pack-brother’s large palms pressing down firmly on them as the Bone Gnawer resurfaces from — elsewhere — and slaps the Theurge’s ear.

Patrick sets his gaze over the assembled; his Rage like a persistent heaviness in the air.


[Tabitha Reese]
She quiets, watching the three as Patrick joins them.

[Izzy Montoya]
At some point, she’d finished her coffee. Now, she stands, pulls her gloves back on, and heads toward the door.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
And then she looks up at Patrick. “And you, of course I remember. Hola.”

Remy laughs, a single muffled Ha! echoing down the quiet street. “Transporting bodies, were you?”

“Ah..” He scratches his chin “Oh.. that’s right, you was at the fuckin’ broho last week or some shit. Good ta’ see ya’ again.”

He ignores Howard’s at least for now. He’s like one of those fake babies, it will always be there, crying and moaning and being useless. They take hundreds of years to degrade as well. Those annoying little fucks. Somewhere in a dump there is an underground city of crying moaning cabbage patch dolls.

“Hey patty.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She checks her watch. “Oh…yeah, I guess it is last week by now. Huh. Nice to see you too though. S’up?”

[Drew Roscoe]
“Only mine and a friend’s.” There’s a beat, and she corrects herself. “No, there was a body in the back, but that was easy to hose off.” She’s not scowling so hard now, being out of the cafe and back on the street, walking away with the knowledge that a bed and room all her own was only thirty or forty minutes away was promising enough a thought that it calmed her down some.

Her dark cherry painted Dodge Ram is near the end of the block, and when close enough to it she extracts her keys from her coat pocket and presses the button that has the lights flashing to indicate where the vehicle is and that its doors are now unlocked. The story leaves much to be desired, plenty of details left out (like exactly what the fuck happened and why she and this friend were bleeding rather than all the bad guys dead bodies), but the fact was that she was standing there looking as fit and healthy as could be. There’s no limp in her step or pain in her face when stops at her truck and pulls open the passenger door. On a street like this with drunk drivers and taxi cabs alike dominating the road, it was just safer and smarter to go in through the passenger side if you could.

All’s well that ends well right?

There’s a Black Fury whose face he does not recognize, another he recalls from the Brotherhood and a Fenrir Kinswoman whom he last glimpsed the night Howard took a swandive off a fire escape.

And Hunter.
Who calls him Patty and gets the benefit of a frown.

Izzy is gone too quickly for the Galliard to salute her, so his attention re-focuses on the newcomers. “Hey, I don’t think I caught your name last time.” To Sarita, those blue, blue eyes all hers for a beat, then they shift to the Black Fury. “And yours is a face I don’t know at all.”

He sticks a hand out; it’s rough and his movement brings with it the wave of motor-oil and cigarette smoke. The latter far fresher than the former. He clasps hands where he’s offered and adds, with emphasis: “I’m Patrick, people call me Prayers to Broken Stone.”

He nods at Howard.

“This one’s pack-mate.” Speaking of, Patrick glances at Howard’s face; the frown returns. “Did you lose your sunglasses when the Fenrir chased you? Fuck, how many pairs have you lost being chased around?” He starts making some cursory sweep of the Cafe floor.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She affects a terrible British accent. “Ecos de la Risa. Sarita…Ecos de la Risa. I take my martinis neither shaken nor stirred, but thrown the fuck out so I can have tequila shots.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
And she takes the offered hand with a hearty handshake.

“I’ll have you know,” he says, “it wasn’t the chasin’ that made them fall off, it was…”

He blindly points a finger towards Tabitha, knocking over an empty cup in the process. There has been a period of palpable silence over the totemphone, Howard not screaming for help or recounting his last will and testament prior to being destroyed like he usually does.

“… the tripping. Don’t usually have an man-hater pop out of nowhere to help a woman-hater, man, I’ll be on my toes next time.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“I don’t hate men. Some Furies DO have to like men, you know.”

“Oh, come off it,” he says, “I have sex with people I hate all the time.”

“Huh.” Remy thinks for a while. Maybe it’s that handsome, handsome face. Maybe it’s all the muscle. Whatever the reason, thinking looks like it takes more effort for him than, say, throwing a punch. Or ripping off a scathing insult or three. If Drew knew his auspice, she might be surprised. Most people are. Then they find out how long it took him to earn Cliathhood, and it’s not such a surprise anymore.

“Was the body in the back responsible for the blood on the seats, at least?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She laughs a little bit. “I picked the right coffee joint to frequent tonight, I see.”

[Tabitha Reese]
“Masturbation doesn’t count, sugar.” She smiles sweetly, then looks at the door. “I should probably go make sure Tala got back okay.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
The laugh turns into a full cackle. “Instant classic right there.”

[Drew Roscoe]
Drew pegged him for a Rotagar. It was the crotch grab that nailed it. He’s pondering what she had to say about the blood on the seats, even as she steps up onto the foot hold of the truck then climbs across the truck’s bench to slide in behind the wheel, plastic that covered the back and seat of the bench crinkling noisily in protest while she went. The plastic sheet was clear but cloudy, but even through that the dark brown of dried blood that interrupted the light gray of the seat beneath could be seen. There was a lot of it behind the driver’s wheel, right where she sat.

His question is met with a curious expression, a moment to think about how to answer that, and she waits until he’s in and the truck door’s closed to answer. “Mostly, but it wasn’t the only one. The rest of them followed us and it turned into a full-out battle maybe forty minutes or an hour later.” Keys in the ignition and she starts the truck. “No casualties on our side…. but it got pretty close.” Both mirrors are checked and doors are locked before Drew’s pulling out into traffic.

It’s only for five seconds, but that comeback shuts Howard up long enough for Tabitha to make her exit. He laughs, but the fact that he doesn’t have an instantaneous game-ender to hurl back at her means she’s either struck a nerve, or that was simply too well-played an insult to recover from right away.

“What, your ‘phone’ busted?” he asks. “Tabitha, love, if you can’t stand your attraction to me, just say so. You don’t have to go runnin’ off. It’ll save us all a lot of pain and heartache in the long run.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She smirks, waving to Tabitha. “Nice to kind-of meet ya. Have a good’n.”

She then turns her attention to Howard. “You just got ‘powned,’ as the kids these days say. Y’know that, right?”

[Tabitha Reese]
“You’ve got me. It’s all I can do to not throw myself at you right here, right now. If I don’t leave now, I’m sure to do something that you regret.” She leans in, delivering a toe curling kiss to Howard before nodding to the others and breezing out. (Bed!)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
Her eyes widen, and she laughs. “Correction. You just got old-school motherfuckin’ OWNED.”

To say that Howard does not see that coming isn’t an exaggeration. He literally does not realize she’s there until she’s inches from his face, and then the Fury has her mouth on his. A Litany-following, Gaia-fearing servant of the spirits would be pushing away from her as fast as he possibly could; Howard, stunned as he is, doesn’t even think to reciprocate. He smells like Febreze and marijuana smoke but his breath is vaguely fruity, as though he’s been chewing gum. His eyes stay open, and when she pulls back and disappears, he sucks in a breath.

He got old-school motherfuckin’ owned.

“The fuck did you just say?” he asks, feigning belligerence, before reaching down to unceremoniously adjust the crotch of his jeans. “Speak English.”

“Hm,” Remy makes another thinking noise, “so my question really is: did you take care of them all, or do I have to kick some asses?”

[Drew Roscoe]
“We got ’em,” is the short answer.

The addendum is tacked on with a lift of one eyebrow and a half a smirk to accompany her glance in his direction before eyes return to the road. “But I don’t think anyone will ever have all of Them taken care of.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“That was English, Mack Daddy.” She grins. “Si quieres que no hablan Ingl├ęs, puedo hacer eso tambi├ęn.”

“Estamos en los estados unidos, chica,” he sighs, suddenly sounding weary, pinching the bridge of his nose for effect; “los americanos no les gusta cuando los extranjeros hablan sus lenguas extra├▒as.”

Meanwhile, Patrick has been on a sunglasses hunt. Or, one assumes as much, anyway. There is, after a time no small amount of scuffling beneath a corner table and a female seated nearby gives a little shriek when Patrick’s shoulder brushes into her bare leg.


He says, voice muffled. A hand emerges with a pair of sunglasses, followed by the rest of his body. He shakes dust out of his hair, glances at the woman; she quivers a little. It’s the Rage, that’s all. “Sorry, you were in the way.” Then he gets to his feet, and wanders back to his Alpha; taking his hand and firmly slapping his glasses into his palm.

“I’m fitting ’em with a fucking pager.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She nods, the grin ratcheted up. “S├ş, pero usted conoce a alguien mejor, cuando no ver lo que los enfurece. Y los americanos son muy, muy bueno en el supuesto que alguien que habla espa├▒ol no sabe Ingl├ęs, que es ideal para espiar.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
The fact that Patrick just emerged and missed the whole ‘owning’ bit seems to amuse her, and she nods to him. “Welcome back.”

We got ’em, she says. Remy, climbing onto the plastic sheets and shutting the door and buckling himself in as she gets this show on the road, tosses her an approving glance.

“Good girl. I hate having to clean up after someone else. So you got a name, or am I just going to call you ‘girl’ for the rest of your life?”

[Drew Roscoe]
He finally gets around to asking about a name, and that gets a bit of a chuckle from the Kinfolk. “Girl works fine. Or Drew. Or if you wanna get on my great side, Long Shot.” Kin had to work hard to get something close to a deed name, you better believe she was proud of hers.

The drive back to The Brotherhood of Thieves wasn’t a difficult one, she didn’t have to ask him once about directions, she’s obviously been a few times before (truth be told, she’s driven there several times but it was a rare thing that she would actually go inside– paranoia instilled by a fanatic was a difficult thing to shake). A few turns, stoplights, and a dozen or so blocks of main road are eaten up by the unnecessarily large truck for an urban setting before they’re in the parking lot, around by the employee door that the Garou typically used rather than the customer entrance.

Remy’d get dropped off with a name, phone number, and an explanation that she could be reached at any time because Family didn’t get a day off.

“Eso es muy, muy profundo,” he says, nodding. “Maar as ek praat soos hierdie, die polisie dink dat ek hier is onwettig. En dan–”

His brother grabs his hand and slaps his sunglasses into them. There is no melting relief from the Theurge, but he does say something strange as a dog walking on its hind legs:

“Thanks, man.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Oh, now changing tongues on me, that’s just not fair.” She smirks. “Was the one you had still tied in knots?”

Patrick has absolutely no notion of what the pair are speaking when he slaps those sunglasses back into his Alpha’s hand. He therefore possesses the expression of someone standing amongst a number of his peers speaking Chinese on the bus while he stands among them; entirely unfocused on their conversation.

Howard thanks him; and his pack-mate doesn’t comment, but sets his hand on his bony shoulder as he passes by on the way to the counter.

After he returns his sunglasses to his face there is no dawning change in the young man’s demeanor; he did not shut down simply because he couldn’t see a damned thing. Any difference in how he typically acts wasn’t likely to be noticed by anyone other than Patrick, who was too busy hunting for his aviators to notice he wasn’t standing up or flailing his arms around like an over-caffeinated college professor.

Black shades in place, he sees her smirks and raises it with a self-satisfied, teeth-baring grin.

“Now why would my tongue be tied in anythin’?”

[thanks for the RP, all! *jets*]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She leans back with a chuckle. “I don’t know. It sure seemed to be twisted around something not very long ago. I thought maybe whatserface could maybe pull off that trick where you tie a cherry stem with your tongue.”

Hunter has been dozing off, his head in his arms on the table. Thankfully he doesn’t snore, that’s reserved for those of.. larger calibre.. He sleeps quietly.. if you don’t count the yips and puppy noises that come out of his mouth as he chases cars down never ending streets in a city where it’s summer all the time.

When he wakes it is sudden, his head comes up and he looks around for familiar faces.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Morning. sunshine.”

Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 1, 3 (Botch x 2 at target 7)
“I’ve got somethin’ she can–”

Up comes Hunter. Howard seems to have found his sunglasses again, or had someone find them for him.

“Good mornin’, sunshine!” he crows, almost simultaneously with Sarita, and hauls off to kick Hunter under the table.



[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“1, 2, 3, JINX!”


Hunter seems most confused by all of this. “The fuck?”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“What, you’ve never heard of that? Two people say the same thing, whoever says ‘1-2-3 Jinx’ first means the other can’t talk and if they do, they owe the Jinxer something to drink. I’ll put it on your tab.”

Howard looks over to Hunter as if to confirm what he’s about to say before he goes ahead and says it.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard all fuckin’ night, and I’ve been hangin’ out with this dickhead since about five o’clock.” He stands, somewhat abruptly, and starts off towards the restrooms. “I gotta take a leak, hold that thought.”


“That sort’a shit will get ya’ fuckin’ beat up in LA.” He says and pushes back from the table to stretch his arms and back. It’s a glorious stretch, bone popping and groan inducing.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Mmm, they can try.” She grins, like she would enjoy the opportunity. “I may not hit harder, but I fight dirtier.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She takes a sip of her coffee. “So, this a usual hangout, or just a place lucky enough to serve as such for the night?”

The Galliard of Caldera has been placing an order at the bar. He turns, eventually, with a steaming mug of coffee in his hand and makes his way over to the table where Sarita and Hunter are sitting. He turns his chair the wrong way, and braces his elbows on the spine of it; cradling his coffee.

He studies both faces as he sips.

“Howard in the toilet?” He asks the Bone Gnawer, with no small amount of surprise. Howard was always in the bathroom, if he wasn’t outside smoking. “Guy has a bladder the side of a walnut.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She grins. “I assume we’re not talking about some genetically-engineered super-walnut that grows to ginormous size and rampages through Walnut Tokyo, right?”

“Nah,” Patrick says with little inflection save the way his pale brows rise. “Would you want to see his super walnut?” He shakes his head, leans his weight back from the chair back; it protests the motion with a wooden creaking.

“I sure as hell don’t, and I live with the guy.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
“Yeah, no thanks. You seen one walnut, you seen ’em all. Besides, I left my industrial-strength nutcracker back in the van.”

That earns the female a chuckle, a brief, almost soundless affair before the Galliard drains his mug; glances at the bathroom door, then at the (apparently) dosing Bone Gnawer. “I hate to leave you alone with this guy,” a nudge of the Ahroun’s leg, he twitches but does not stir.

“But I gotta head home, hit the showers. I reek of motors.” Patrick rises, and twists the chair right way around. He nods at Sarita, and heads for the bar to deposit his empty mug on the way out. “Take it easy, yeah.”

With that, the Rage-intensive young man pushes out the door into the night.

[Sorry guys, my brain is pretty well mush! Thanks for the RP! ]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
She grins and watches him go. “Don’t have too much fun. Have a good one.”

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa]
[[Probably a good place for me to go get some sleep too.]]

She finishes up her coffee and rises. “If you’re awake, tell the Mack Daddy I’ll talk to him later. Amy’ll kill me if I don’t get up at a halfway decent hour tomorrow. Don’t have too much fun.” She grins and moves to turn in her mug before heading on out the door.”