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

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

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

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

The eightball goes back to August.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He then looks around at the others involved.

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

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

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

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

[Kora] (dibs!)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's likely a good thing.

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

[Holden] [cutteR!]

[Balance Without Fault] [he totally cut.]

"First and last strike for you, Mr. Roth."

Then, to Delilah:

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

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

"Let's get back to the kin. Specific concerns, bring them forth."

-- and on to Jackson.

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

"Effen ye've naethen nice tae say, fer christs sakes jes shut yer fookin crumbhole."

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hands it back to Balances-Without-Fault.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The ball goes back to Jackson.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the ball goes to Kora.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Kieran Mondblume] [Dibs?]

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

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

Carry on!

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

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

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

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

He nods to Adamidas, then, before continuing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyway!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Danicka Musil] [Dibs!]

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah. She'll be dealing with that later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her eyes find Sarita's sister.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Balance Without Fault] [night!]

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

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

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

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

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

He turns back to Amunet.

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

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

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

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

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

"What's the story there, Amunet? I hardly know where to begin."

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

[Kieran Mondblume] *He flinches visibly.*

[August Grant] A brow rose.

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

Was that girl daft?

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

"Motherfu..." snap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Quinn] [dibs!]

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

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

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

[Wyrmbreaker] [joey --> jackson --> kieran]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I said it before, I say it again.

Respectful disagreement."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So you're not bein' called out on it just 'cause someone's followin' some sort've trend."

The eight ball is passed on.

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

[Amunet Knezevic] [dibs after bridget, please]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A beat.

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

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

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

There's a beat and then:

"The fact that ya' thought me doin' that could help is, quite frankly, god damn insultin'."

Patrick

[Patrick Llewelyn] The last time most of the people present that know of Patrick saw him -- glimpsed him -- he had either been exceptionally drunk, exceptionally angry or seeing fit to ignore most of his surroundings. But on each occasion, spare perhaps the Detective, they had seen him while his Alpha, his best friend had been alive. Had been, typically, present to pull Patrick back -- to taunt him, tease him, distract him from his melancholy; his aggression; his warpath toward his own demise.

Tonight, he is less one Theurge pack-mate, having come to the city less one Philodox Alpha to begin with.

They are wolves; the female Fenrir that comes forward to greet him, and the Fianna that lifts his chin and nods at her; his expression somber; perhaps even a degree wary. Kora can no doubt read much of his current state straight from his rumpled clothing, his tousled hair and the healing cuts to the knuckles, the fingers of which brace the pockets of his jacket.

"Rhya," he says, the touch of deference seems alien on the Fianna's tongue, a sentiment he is not familiar with using all that often. "Nice digs." The corner of his mouth pulls, attempts a smile. "Great acoustics."

[Izzy Montoya] She sets the bags on the counter, and goes about emptying them. There's a collection of random types of Thai food, and a bunch of it, as well as two six-packs of beer to refresh the cooler. If anyone was to ask her what the occasion was, she wouldn't be able to answer. She's never randomly showed up with food before, though she has picked up the tab around town on more than one occasion. If it were anyone else, they might think she wanted company.

But it's Izzy.

She grabs one of the beers, opens it and takes a swallow or four, as she moves to take a seat in the corner of the kitchen - out of the way.

[Imogen] Imogen regards the gathering, the Jarl taking a Fianna off to the side to speak, a Ragabash, drawing the others toward the kitchen. She does not know that she was not considered a guest - is not privy to the mental conversation - and truthfully, it is hard to say, precisely what her reaction would be to that knowledge.

If there were any at all.

Something muted and indescribable passes her expression as she looks about at the goings on, before she reaches into her jacket pocket, retrieving a cigarette case, catching Roman's eye briefly (it takes a moment as the boy snorts and snortles at Drew's misfortune and Erek's antics) and lifting the case in indication.

With that, the kinswoman turns and steps back outside, leaving the tepid warmth behind her for the cold stone stoop and lungs she can fill with tar and poison.

[Ki Mondblume] *Despite his own car, he STILL walks most places. He all but jogs towards the place. Backwards. It leads to problems in some places, but this place seems to be okay. He is holding a paper plate of three hot dogs. He eats with a great deal of relish. Well. Enjoyment. Food is BLISS.*

*He shoves half of one into his mouth, swelling his cheeks. His eyes widen slightly, at the cars. SO many cars. He cants his head idly, and he raises his head to the sky, sniffing idly. He pulls his backpack around his front, and shoves the two remaining hot dogs into the bag, as he finishes off the first. Defend the food. At ALL costs. He does smell cigarette smoke.*

[Drew Roscoe] The tall Rotagar that looked every bit the part of what his blood said he should be moved to stand behind Drew and clapped one hand onto her shoulder. You'd think, for a second, that he was being supportive or affectionate in some way. Noticing how tension had hitched up along her shoulders and at the back of her neck, how humor and cheer had dropped from her demeanor like flies that just got hit with a cloud of Raid.

Then that snowball he's been packing idly between his gloves for the past several minutes is dropped right on top of her head, smashed into her hair so that it crumbles and falls over her face and shoulders onto the floor. Roman barks out a laugh, no one else seems to look terribly amused.

Drew sighs, for a moment it seems she's only going to be upset with the cold wet surprise, but a small smile effects one side of her mouth and she shakes her head some, reaching up to shoo the Rotagar's hand off her scalp and brushing what's left of the snowball away. An elbow goes back, aimed to bump into his stomach. There's not nearly enough momentum or emotion in the gesture for her to be truly attempting to hurt or attack the Rotagar, it's just playing around is all.

"'Ppreciate that," she chuckled a bit and shook her head, touching the wet spot on the top of her head with the tips of her fingers.

[Roman Turner] He was still smiling when he acknowledged Imogen's motion that she was going outside to smoke and he turned back to join Izzy before she could eat all the food, as if. Snickering as he joined Izzy.

"Did ya see that? Right smack on the noggin. I bet she gives him a good shove when they go back out on the ice."

[Imogen] There is a red-haired woman on the stoop of the church, an ember now burning between her fingers. She does not sit, but leans against the doorjamb. She's dressed better than here - certainly better than a squatter who might have appropriated a place like this.

The slight woman has pure breeding. It's heavy as silk, a smell, a taste, a touch. And at some point, as the other walks along the street, she appears to be watching him, lifting her cigarette back to her lips, inhaling deep.

[Ki Mondblume] *His nostrils flare, and he chews on the last bit of hot dog. He watches the woman. His own breeding is fairly clear, though thinned down a bit. It seems he's trying to figure her out for a moment. And then he grins.*

HEY! Didn't anyone ever tell you smoking's bad for you?

[Erek Skulason] *Erek grunts as Drew's elbow connects with his stomach. He releases his grip on her, pulling his arms back to hug his sides as his hands move to rub over the spot of impact. He looks down at the smaller kin, puckering his bottom lip out in a pout at her, using his own humility to get a smile on Drew's face. When he sees that she's grinning just a little, he laughs again, shaking his head*

Move your ass, Ms. Roscoe, to get some grub or I can haul you over like a sack of potatoes.

*His stomach rumbles in protest, the smell of the Thai filling his nostrils as Roman and Izzy were digging into the food. He didn't want to leave Drew by herself, so makes harmless threats at her*

[Izzy Montoya] She lifts her bottle in slight toast, but doesn't have much to say on the subject of shoving, or Drew, or the new kid. Aside from the obvious question: "Who is he?"

She hasn't been about much - which is no different than usual - and has yet to be introduced. She does manage to bite back another comment, hiding it behind a swallow, and a gesture toward the food. "Help yourself. Didn't know what you liked, brought a little bit of everything."

[Roman Turner] "He's your family. Erek."

There was no way he could say the last name correctly, so he coughed while saying it, making it sound sort of like Skullsomething.

"New Moon. Want me to ask if he's single?"

[Izzy Montoya] He's her family. She snorts. Roman is well aware of her views on Tribe. Or, if he isn't, he should be by now as she never makes an attempt to hide it. Kora has earned her respect - something Kemp also had, though others are few and far between.

Want him to ask if he's single? She arches a brow, slightly, and deadpans. "Why, you lonely?"

[Imogen] There is a brief silence - the woman turns her head, exhaling smoke into the wind, letting it blow away. Another drag, then she steps off the stoop and walks toward him.

Imogen does not yell across a front lawn.

The slight kinswoman moves with an utter ease a visceral knowledge of the boundaries of her body. She navigates the uneven snow, the unplowed walkway, her boots crunching through the ice and snow. Her jacket is open, and her free hand slides beneath it to the small of her back, then slides out, empty again. She does not come up to him entirely, but closes to a speaking distance.

She pauses there, taking another drag of her cigarette, and turning her head away to blow the smoke. She lowers the fag, tapping the ash toward the snow - it hisses nearly inaudibly.

"Do you want to exchange witticisms about cigarettes and its effects on human health or do you want to talk about my blood and yours?" she asks, evenly, an eyebrow arching.

[Drew Roscoe] Familiarity was something that was both sweet and sour for Drew right now. It was nice having another body in the house to warm it, to come home and not stare at blank walls and listen to absolute silence and wonder how the hell she was going to keep pushing through the days with things remaining as empty and mundane as they were. The Rotagar provided company, conversation and something to keep busy with as well (taking care after a teenage boy was time consuming, ask anyone).

Yet, at the same time, time alone was crucial. She still needed to be able to shove off the weight of playing like she wasn't grieving or hurt, to stop pretending that everything was okay and sit quietly, looking at pictures or having the occasional cry. She needed these moments of non-judgment, with no one staring at her looking sympathetic or uncomfortable to make her pull up the act once more. They were precisely as crucial as the company was, oxymoronic as that may seem.

It's the familiarity born from this agreement that makes Drew acquiesce to the teasing, that has her donning the grin easier. It's the only reason she's walking toward the kitchen at all. She liked beer as much as the next midwestern twenty-something, but alcohol right now could really only be trouble.

Still, regardless, she walks to the kitchen, shaking her head at Erek and grinning as she went. "Sure, you could. But then you'd be cooking your own meals and washing your own dishes for god knows how long."

[Kora] There's a brief glance at Drew when she says something about who her father is. Mental note: ask later. Otherwise, Kora's perfectly content to give over guest-duty to her packmate. He says yassum in the back of her mouth, and before he disappears back toward the kitchen, whatever food Izzy brought as offer, Roman will catch the edge of a fond glance, a generous sort of twist to her curving mouth. Which deepens into a smirk when Erek calls her snookums-rhya.

He earns himself a look of warning perfecly matched to that smirk, before Kora's attention returns to the newest guest.

The Skald takes Patrick in a glance, missing little. The blood, the grief, the disshevelment. Her footsteps echo quietly in the stark interior of the old church, all the way up to the half-broken rafters, and she glances up, following the arc of his glance when he says nice digs.

"Thanks." Her voice is quiet; the power subsumed, contained, constrained in the undertones. She isn't a singer, but she still knows how to use that particular instrument, in her own quiet way.

She comes closer to Patrick than a human ever would, but does not quite touch him. They're wolves: there's a certain concordance there. A certain awareness.

"C'mon." She tells him, brushing past toward the tables. The coolers underneath, crouching down to pull the lid off one, looking back up at Patrick over her shoulder as she digs through the slurry of ice. "You want a beer?"

[Roman Turner] He considered Erek a moment then murmured around a mouthful of food to Izzy.

"You're right, he is kinda comely. Ok, dibs! You get your own man."

[Ki Mondblume] *He snorts at that.* Well, MY conversation was a lot more fun. Not sure I want to talk blood. *He starts to pace slowly, back and forth, examining.*

If I'm in the way, I can move. But I couldn't help but smell it. Ash. *He wears flip-flops in the snow. And socks with said flip-flops. The socks are a lovely shade of pink, as if they were washed with red clothing.*

[Imogen] "Your conversation is one I've had a hundred times before." Not that the other conversation she proposed was any different.

She's small - her heels make her taller, but it does not hide the basic petiteness of her. Small bones, gracile joints. A slim body, half hidden beneath the fall of her open jacket. She wears jeans, a sweater beneath the jacket. Her skin is pale in the poorly light night. The clouds hide the stars. Cabrini Green has more burnt out lamps than lit ones.

"Other than that, I imagine blood is all we ha' in common."

Her accent is foreign. She's been asked if she's Irish, Scottish, Australian. Any number of British colonies, and even British itself. They rarely get it exactly right, though some get it close enough.

[Erek Skulason] *It takes a lot of restraint to follow through with the threat that he gave Drew, twitching his nose at her once, but the desired effect is still the same as she walks over to the kitchen area that the others reside in. He follows after her, long legs carrying him across the room quickly, slipping around the kin to hit the tables. He just barely catches Roman's remark, looking over at the other with a confused expression*

You checking my ass out, man?

*He asks, looking through the containers of food. He jerks his head in Izzy's direction, giving her another glance over*

Who are you? Besides the fact I can tell that you'd pop out an army of furry bastards with that pedigree of yours.

[Patrick Llewelyn] Kora comes close to him, closer than she needs to and with a flare of his nostrils the second Galliard takes note of the first. Her swelling belly is the most obvious thing about her right now and as such is the last to be focused on. A thing known, but not his concern, not his business. He instead traces her face as if to sketch its likeness later on -- his eyes remain on her until she is too near, and it has been bordering on too long to be considered polite to continue.

He rounds back his shoulders instead; digs his fists back down into the pockets of his worn in jacket; the leather carries its own scent, but it is faint, barely a trace beneath the tang of smoke that clings to him when he comes near; when she brushes past him and he turns, twisting to observe her.

"Yeah," he admits, a hand emerging to scruff over his head; it does little to tame his hair, growing longer and in need of tending to but ignored in favor of most every other thing. Patrick's hands are stained; the nail-beds dark with car grease; motor oil. He does not smell particularly strongly tonight of his human occupation but the hint is there, mingling with that of leather, and cigarettes.

"Wanted to talk to you," no shit, Patrick. "Now that Ho--", he pauses, licks his lips and looks down at his worn sneakers; frowning. "Now my pack is gone, I been trying to figure out where I might fit. Given, we don't know one another that well and I know my brother never exactly endeared himself, but," he shrugs shoulders, as if helpless but to spit it out.

"You got need of another body to run with you, I could try."

[Ki Mondblume] Likely. *He smiles, pacing back and forth.* Well. Similar blood, at least, but definitely not the SAME. *His nostrils flare, and he wrinkles his nose.* It's STINKY, *he complains, idly, before peering behind her.*

What's going on over there? Are you having a party? Are there snacks? I'm hungry. *Yes. He has two hot dogs in his bag. Yes. It seems he's had more than this before. And yes. He IS still hungry.* I like french fries, in case you want a suggestion.

[Izzy Montoya] She lifts the bottle in slight toast, giving Roman his 'dibs' on Erek, easily enough. She does not remind him she has chosen her own man, because that would lead to questions, and to wondering, and to another night without sleep for her while she tried to dig up information on the case he was working on, why it had him so deep under cover that he couldn't (or - god forbid - wouldn't) get some sort of message to her. In other words - only heartache would come from actually speaking about him.

Instead, she turns her attention to Erek as he demands to know who she is, and decides she can raise an army of bastards, all at once. She smirks slightly, and answers only "Detective Montoya."

[Roman Turner] Erek asked if he were checking out his ass and the first thing that came out of his mouth was.

"Well, considering I ain't seen your backside yet, I'd be a mite leery asking that particular question just yet cause I might get a bit confused on what's what."

Then he was watching the play between Izzy and Erek. Last time he stepped in on the behalf of one of the Fenrir Kin, he'd had to remind Remy that this was the home of the Last Watch and all guests were to be respected while within the walls. This time he said.

"Lady present, ain't polite to start talking about reproducing before ya get to the hand shaking point."

[Drew Roscoe] Drew was nudged past, Erek slipping lightly around her to enter the kitchen first. He made a beeline for Izzy after catching some quip about being dibsed upon from Roman and returning it in kind. It must be that breeding again, he's commenting on how Izzy could likely produce an army of True Born.

Drew, in the meantime, tugs open a cooler and pulls out a bottle of beer. Rather than joining up at the table she plants a palm on the edge of the counter and hops up easy, effortlessly, without a grunt or a 'hup' to announce the physical exertion. She might be short, thick about the thighs with muscle and firm on the belly and arms from athletic passtimes as well, but it all worked toward something besides detracting from the commonly more appreciated 'tall and leggy' build.

The top of the bottle was snapped away, and the lid rubbed idly between the fingers of her left hand while her right controlled the path of the bottle to and from her lips for periodic sips.

[Imogen] He points out there are differences in her blood, and Imogen merely arches an eyebrow. Her response to the clarification is perhaps best described as a silent: 'Whatever'.

The details don't matter to her.

"S'not my place to invite you in," she says. "But come wi' me a moment."

And she turns to walk, but not toward the maindoors, instead around the building and toward the kitchen window.

[Erek Skulason] Detective.... Montoya?

*Oh, there's a devil playing in Erek's expression now, one that is going to get him killed. But Roman seems to be stepping on the no moon's fun right before he can shoot off any fireworks. He changes his demeanor, ducking his head and fluttering his blond lashes at Izzy, trying his best to put on the boyish charm*

Out of respect to the Jarl, I might behave, but I'll state that Ms. Montoya is a tad older than me, and I'm likely to get Chicago's Finest in a heap of trouble if I'm caught fraternizing with Law. Though, I'm sure she packs some really nice guns...

*He gives Izzy a thoroughly look over* Just ain't sure where she's hiding them.

*He laughs, seizing one of the containers of food for himself and finds some utensils, he points them at Roman*

If Miss Kora wants me to run with you all, we better play nice, pumpkin. Two no moons under one cathedral's going to raise some kinda hell.

[Ki Mondblume] *He doesn't see anything wrong with her. He begins to whistle the opening song from the Disney version of Robin Hood, looking pleased with himself. He walks to the beat, quite cheerily. He should be watching her hips move. He does not.*

[Imogen] Her hips, in either case, are hidden beneath the fall of her jacket. She glances over her shoulder, briefly as the Garou fairly ... skips after her, whistling, her glance wry, but more tolerant than in good humour.

As said, she is slight - the window is high enough that is a reach. Still, she lifts up easily on her toes, rapping on the window perfunctorily. Thrice.

[Roman Turner] Oh he couldn't wait for this guy to run in to Linus. On the heels of that thought the devil whispered in his ear and out of his mouth came.

"Pumpkin? That's Linus' pet name. Just ask him."

He wasn't going to touch the guns comment cause he figured Izzy might show him how that gun could fit up certain orifices just before she pulled the trigger. He'd leave Erek to find that out on his own also.

[Izzy Montoya] "Detective." Not Ms. It's her preferred title, her preferred form of address, and she says it with quiet intention, though she does not comment on much of the rest of it. Not even her age.

Those who knew her before might think she has mellowed, might think she has grown content with her lot in life with the Chicago Fenrir. They may think many things, and she lets them think them. If they want to know, they'd have to actually take the time to discover it.

Her only comment is... "Oh, I could show you my guns." Likely, her thought process is similar to Roman's there. She confirms it with "...but you wouldn't like it."

[Ki Mondblume] *He looks curious at that, and his whistle is interrupted by his own words.* That's a rather boring secret knock. This a clubhouse? But girls are allowed. WEIRD clubhouse.

*He stands on his tippy-toes, perfectly balanced, watching the window, as if expecting something to happen. He should not look this excited.*

[Roman Turner] He immediately looked towards the window with the knock and in the flash of an eye, reached for it and yanked it open to stick his head out.

"Why howdy Miss Doctor Slaughter Ma'am. Ya lose your key or trying out the drive thru?"

His gray blue gaze landed on Ki.

"Pay at this window, then please drive through."

[Erek Skulason] Linus the Chimney Sweep? Met'im already, he was here the last time I was covered in soot. Real nice chap that one is.

*Erek digs into the food with ferocious appetite, inhaling it in until his cheeks began to compact with food, puffing out like a puckerfish. It takes a few swallows to clear his mouth, washing his tongue across his lips to clean the sauce away. He smirks at Izzy, but his comment is all for Roman*

If pumpkin is out of the question. How about Peaches? You look like a peach, all smooth and perty-like. *Erek mimics the twange that he hears in Roman's voice, chuckling under another mouthful of food. He looks around, his eyes drinking in the other occupants in the room, namely Patrick who speaks with Kora, and then finally settling on Drew, noticing how quiet she's become. He gives her a questioning look, tilting his head*

[Kora] "You're welcome here." There is a certain formality to the way she shapes those words. They aren't placeholders, pro forma human throwaways. He tells her that he's looking for a place where he fits. And Kora, settled on her haunches, digging through the ice to produce a beer and a root beer in the sort of brown glass bottle that at least feels like a beer bottle in the hand, between the fingers, tells him you're welcome here. - immediately, automatically. Seriously.

Then she stands, holding out the bottle of beer to him, keeping the root beer for herself, before levering herself up to sit on the table. Which bows, a bit, at the middle under her weight, but does not bend or break.

"I lost my Alpha not long after the spring equinox. Then my pack just after the solstice. Roman and his cousin, Sparrow, came and held the land we'd claimed with me until we made it official then, yeah? A real thing." There's a certain rough empathy there, which does not devolve into sympathy or - worse yet - pity. Her dark eyes are sure on him; she doesn't share his specific grief, but she knows the shape and weight of it, and that shapes and weights her voice.

"Right now, it's Linus, and Roman, and me. We follow a Fenrir totem. Harder, I think, for folks outside the tribe to understand Hermodr, but right now - after all that loss, you're still here. You made a sacrifice, more than one for this land.

"And I think that means something. Both to me and the big guy.

"So yeah," Kora says, now sliding from the table to stand. " - run with us, yeah? Fight with us. Get to know my pack, our territory. Our totem."

[Ki Mondblume] *He frowns at that, curiously.* But my truck wouldn't start up this morning. So I can't drive through. Can I pay at the door instead? *He seems quite serious at this.*

[Roman Turner] He glanced back at Erek with the hint of a smile.

"Sure thing. And I'll call ya cream cause ya all pale and smooth like cream."

He winked and turned his attention back to the window.

"Pay at the door? Why sure ya can. Come on around. Just remember, no refunds."

He leaned out further and pointed towards the corner of the building.

"Back door is that way."

[Imogen] "Don't you ever stop talking?" Imogen asks Kiernan almost absently. It is worth noting she's not asked him for his name.

Roman appears and offers his joke, the rhythm slightly damaged by the long way he handles her name, all the extra syllables. Imogen ignores it. "I've found a stray," she says, mildly. "Who would like to be fed. Since he looks unfamiliar, I thought one o' yeh might want to talk with him first. Though," a brief glance at the young Uktena and his earnest expression, "I don't think he's much risk."

She talks, easily, as if the other were not there.

[Ki Mondblume] *He scratches at his stomach, and he actually seems to consider Imogen's words.* Yes, occasionally, *he says idly. He hasn't asked for hers either.* And I've been around for a LITTLE bit. I keep TRYING to meet new people, but they either go away, don't say anything, or we end up sparring. *He doesn't seem displeased at this last bit.*

[Roman Turner] "What's yer name?"

He was letting all kinds of cold air in with handling the conversation through the open window.

"Ya smell like hot dogs."

He sniffed, leaning out further.

"Yep, I smell wieners."

[Drew Roscoe] Drew was letting the three talk, lending an ear to Kora and Patrick out in the sanctuary half of the time as well. Her hearing wasn't so sharp as to pick up more than the low rumble of low voices and an occasional recognizable word or two, but that wasn't what she was after. She wasn't eavesdropping with honest interest in what was being said, she wasn't nosy, it was just something to listen to. Background noise, like when you put on the History Channel when you lay down for a nap.

Erek casts an eye toward her while Roman pokes his head out the window to talk to Imogen and some unknown other person, another boy judging by the voice. One blond eyebrow lifted on the Rotagar, and Drew answered it by lifting both, closing her eyes in a dismissive and 'what can ya do' signal, and shrugging her shoulders to tie the whole thing together. She relaxed from that once more, cast her eyes past Erek to Roman at the window, and took another drink from her beer.

She was nursing it, but constantly. Already half the bottle was gone.

[Ki Mondblume] I'm Ki, *he says, rather cheerfully, though at the sniffing, the change in expression is quite rapid, as his face goes cold. He holds on tightly to his backpack, and a low growl starts in his throat.* MY hot dogs.

[Roman Turner] Both his brows lifted with the growl

"Now son, we don't want to be rude and start to growling like that when folk are offering to feed ya in their home. Ain't good manners to get all ruffled up like that. If ya got a problem with your temper, best keep yourself outside cause we don't cotton to that in here. We straight with that?"

[Ki Mondblume] *He holds tightly to his bag, and he watches Roman suspiciously. He nods only once, though he still looks QUITE possessive of his bag.*

[Roman Turner] "I ain't pullin your tail here. I'm as serious as a heart attack. Ya come in here thinking I want to harm ya, steal from ya when I, out of the goodness of my widdle heart, invited ya inside to warm up and eat, then we got a problem from the get go. Just so ya know it up front. I won't cotton to it in here. And I'm the nice one."

He watched Ki closely.

"Do ya understand the words coming out my mouth, Ki?"

[Imogen] Imogen, now, remains silent, waiting. Her phone chimes, and though she reaches into her jacket pocket to silence it, she does not take it out.

[Erek Skulason] *Erek caught the cream comment, snorts out in laughter at it, passing a quick glance to Roman, but he doesn't remark back. There'd be time for that later, Roman was directing traffic out the window to someone else, and Drew was quietly verbalizing with Erek with facial expressions. He holds up the container of food in Drew's direction, pointing at it with a plastic fork as he licks his lips again, then half-turns his face away to smear what sauce remained onto the sleeve of his new coat*

You should eat, Drew, food's not bad and the beer'll go to your head pretty fast for such a wee thing. Already know you can't hold your liquor as well as me. *He winks at Drew before looking away*

So! Detective Montoya, I haven't forgotten about you, ma'am. You sure I wouldn't like to see them guns? How much you bench press on a daily basis? Two, maybe three pounds of donuts?

[Ki Mondblume] *He pauses. And then the corner of his mouth twitches. He snorts, and he starts to laugh.* REALLY? Did you MEAN to quote that movie, or was it by accident? *He is CLEARLY trying to calm down, though the possessive state he displays over his belongings is quite clear.*

[Izzy Montoya] She just watches Erek, blandly as he asks about her doughnut pressing prowess. At least he caught the hint and called her Detective. Sometimes Fenrir can be taught. Rare, but sometimes.

"Positive." That he wouldn't want to see them. She has the perfect deadpan, really. Not even a twitch of reaction at the stereotypical jab. "Six."

....wonder where she puts it all, if there's even an inkling of truth in it...

[Roman Turner] "Oh I meant to. Though I gotta tell ya son, ya ain't exactly filling me with confidence that I should hold to my invitation to come on in. Take a deep breath and say to yourself. If this fella meant me harm, I would be in a world of hurt before the growl cleared my throat."

He smiled his most tolerant smile, counting to ten himself.

[Patrick Llewelyn] Patrick is silent, watchful, perhaps cautious as the Fenrir Skald speaks.

He does not know much of other tribes; yet he knows everything about them in the past. Their pasts; his own tribe's past. The Fianna has a connection to his own ancestors, though it is a frail, and inconsistent connection. But sometimes, he has felt their presence, called upon them in his time of need and discovered a reasurrance beyond the scope of words.

She passes him a beer bottle, and Patrick's hands emerge to grasp it; his knuckles rough with fighting; unknown if its brawling for sport or the result of some battle against the enemy. When the Fenrir invites him to fight with her pack; to get to know them; there's a gleam of surprise in Prayers to Broken Stone's eye, his sandy brows rise.

"Alright." A beat, he steps closer, seats himself.

"Half expected you to laugh, to be honest." He studies the beer label.

[Ki Mondblume] *He breathes slowly.* I can't help it, *he says with a wince.* I'll behave, though. And if I don't, well, I'm sure you can kick the shit out of me. *He blinks at that.* But they ARE my hot dogs. I'm saving them for later, though. For when I get REALLY hungry. *Good lord - there's a REALLY hungry for him?*

[Erek Skulason] Six... really? Only six?

*Erek squints at Izzy, peering at her searchingly as if he's trying to make out something. He flicks his gaze up and down the length of her frame, setting the now-devoured container down on an available table space*

Six isn't that impressive.

[Roman Turner] He turned his head, speaking to someone in the kitchen, meeting Erek's eyes.

"There's a fella out here what seems to be a bit feral. I'm letting him come in to warm up and eat, but I'm gonna depend on your good sense to make sure he minds his manners."

He lowered his voice.

"Do what ya think ya consider best."

Leaving that door wide open for Erek as he turned back to the window.

"Well then, come on in son. Back door is around there. Ask for Erek."

With that he closed the window.

[Imogen] Her phone chimes again. This time Imogen removes it, lifting it to Roman in indicate it. "Tell Patrick t'make his own way back, will yeh?"

A flick of her gaze toward Kiernan, before she turns and starts to walk away without farewell.

[Drew Roscoe] Through suggestions that she come eat and insisting that she's a lightweight, Drew just grins from around the rim of her beer bottle, shifts it away from her mouth to speak clearly. "No, you have one watered down drink and I kept going. Size isn't all there is to holding liquor." There's a dismissive wave of her hand. "Anyways, the metabolism and healing abilities on you guys, you probably burn it off like it's just water anyways."

The offer to food is overlooked or ignored. Drew remains planted with her rear on the countertop, legs swinging and the heels of her boots bouncing quietly, rhythmically off the cabinets beneath her.

She wasn't worried about crossing legs or anything like that because she wore jeans, it wasn't a common thing that she'd wear a skirt outside of summertime. She reached up to undo the buttons of her coat, opening it up to reveal a very simple white long-sleeved tee underneath. A bit of ventilation couldn't hurt.

[Izzy Montoya] "You specified donuts. Perhaps you were thinking of something else?"

She arches a brow, slightly, and lifts her bottle to take a drink.

[Ki Mondblume] Thank you! *he says cheerily, and he goes around back, quite curious. He looks back to Imogen.* Aren't you coming too? *He furrows his eyebrows, and then he goes back to the back door.* Weird girl. *He knocks on the back door. Shave and a haircut.*

[Roman Turner] He nodded to Imogen with a touch of his fingers to his brow in salute. In the next moment he was making his excuses and thanks to Izzy. Saying his farewells to Drew and Erek before stepping out. It was time for his rounds.

[Roman Turner] ((Sorry folks, I am up at 4am for work, I gotta sleep. Thanks for the play!))

[Imogen] "Not tonight," she answers, before heading back towards her car.

[Erek Skulason] Why are you suddenly directing traffic at me, Peaches? This ain't my home!

*Erek makes eyes at Roman, staring at him like he has two heads for a second, but the other no moon was leaving. He sighs, shaking his blond head and picks himself up. He rolls his shoulders up in a shrug at Izzy, lifting a hand to press the tip of his index finger to his left temple*

Detective, I was referring to donuts, though I'm sure you could drink me under the table as well.

*Erek shakes out the bit of cold that started to creep into his bones, shuffling his way over to where Drew sat on the counter and leans up against it, eying her quietly* We'll have to test that theory, Mrs. Robinson, to see if you can outdrink me.

[Izzy Montoya] "Will we, then?"

There's a huff of amusement, as she shakes her head. "I am not that old." a beat. "But I could drink you under the table. Twice. But it would be contributing to the delinquency of a minor."

Because that's stopped her before when it comes to Garou. Not.

[Ki Mondblume] *He frowns at the door, then, and he does not let himself in. He ducks back at that. Curious. He'll come back later.*

[Erek Skulason] *Erek barks out in laughter, his shoulders shaking under the heaviness of his coat. Tiny lines crinkle at the corner of his blue eyes, he lifts a hand up to shove back the blond hair that is constantly falling down to obstruct his vision, too lazy to cut it. Or too stubborn to wear it short*

Yes, we should. Just so I may test your prowess in a friendly sport of binge drinking.

[Drew Roscoe] Drew just huffed a breath out over the rim of her beer bottle, and it was rough to determine what it was in response to, or just a gathered up response to the whole flurry of activity going on about her. Some stranger was coming in, Roman was taking off and leaving Erek to handle the new kid, even though Erek was dreadfully new himself. Wasn't Kora just out in the Sanctuary? Shouldn't she be handling the new faces instead?

It wouldn't matter, he wasn't coming inside, but Drew didn't know this.

Instead she just tipped her chin up toward the ceiling when Erek took up post beside her, killed what was left in her beer bottle, and let it rest sitting on top of her thigh, kept from falling only by the loose grip of her fingers near the bottom.

There's a second, then a total change of topic. An f.y.i. for Erek. "Probably Saturday I'll be heading down to Peoria. I'll likely spend the night there. Just so ya know. So, ah, no crazy parties, right?"

[Erek Skulason] *Drew snags the boy's ear immediately with the detail that she was leaving town for a night, and warned him against crazy parties. He folds his arms across his chest, tilting his head to the side to look at her*

What's in Peoria? Should be fine, can always crash here if I get lonely. Or pester Sofie.

[Izzy Montoya] "Ah, but Erek, if we did that..."

And here, she pauses, and finishes her beer, before she stands and goes to retrieve another. She opens it, as Drew makes a change of topic. Then Izzy brings it back once again. "...you would invariably end up face down on my bathroom floor, thanking it for being cool on your hungover brow. There are easier ways to get to my XBox."

And that little smirk admits she knows exactly what that sounds like. She lifts the bottle again, and turns to make her way back toward the sanctuary, and likely the front door soon after.

[Kora] The beer's an IPA - Goose Island - a warm, clear color - amber through the dark glass, gleaming through the neck. A local beer, though the label he thumbs is fading from being immersed in that slurry of ice and water for so long. Kora's dark eyes flicker down at the label, following the movement of his hand, the settled way his fingers curve around the bottle.

Her own bottle is label-less, a sharp, sweet, fizzy scent makes a sort of undercurrent in the air.

Half expected you to laugh, to be honest. says Patrick.

She does then, Kora. A brief, narrow sound. The supple humor of it is mostly contained in her body. In her throat, behind her eyes, which gleam in the low light. The air is sharp, bright with cold, with the promise of a coming storm that the animal in each of them can sense in some formless, nameless way. The shifting pressure, the movement of wind. The way the barometer drops.

"Yeah?" says Kora, lifting up her bottle of root beer to clink his in a spare toast. "Well, that's where you miscalculated. Get of Fenris don't laugh." The gleam of humor lingers behind her eyes. There's a certain gravity to her, though, behind it. A certain awareness that is both light and dark. "Mostly we growl. Sometimes we snort. But we don't laugh." The low noise she makes in the back of her throat gives lie to that.

"So, Prayers to Broken Stone. Tell me a story."

It sounds like the beginning of a long night.
to Ki Mondblume

[Kora] The beer's an IPA - Goose Island - a warm, clear color - amber through the dark glass, gleaming through the neck. A local beer, though the label he thumbs is fading from being immersed in that slurry of ice and water for so long. Kora's dark eyes flicker down at the label, following the movement of his hand, the settled way his fingers curve around the bottle.

Her own bottle is label-less, a sharp, sweet, fizzy scent makes a sort of undercurrent in the air.

Half expected you to laugh, to be honest. says Patrick.

She does then, Kora. A brief, narrow sound. The supple humor of it is mostly contained in her body. In her throat, behind her eyes, which gleam in the low light. The air is sharp, bright with cold, with the promise of a coming storm that the animal in each of them can sense in some formless, nameless way. The shifting pressure, the movement of wind. The way the barometer drops.

"Yeah?" says Kora, lifting up her bottle of root beer to clink his in a spare toast. "Well, that's where you miscalculated. Get of Fenris don't laugh." The gleam of humor lingers behind her eyes. There's a certain gravity to her, though, behind it. A certain awareness that is both light and dark. "Mostly we growl. Sometimes we snort. But we don't laugh." The low noise she makes in the back of her throat gives lie to that.

"So, Prayers to Broken Stone. Tell me a story."

It sounds like the beginning of a long night.

[Drew Roscoe] "My dad."

The answer is simple, matter-of-fact. Completely devoid of the discomfort that came up when she told Kora it wouldn't be okay if Roman tagged along.

He said he could crash at the church, sleep there rather than at her house so that she wouldn't have to worry about him doing what animals left at home alone do-- chew things, rip up doors, break stuff, go on the rug, ect ect. Back to Sophie again, Drew chuckles a bit, quietly, and shakes her head, tapping her shortly clipped fingernails on the sides of her empty beer bottle. "If she gets your goat so much, why do you keep going around her?"

[Imogen] hassle

[Imogen] (... please ignore)

[Erek Skulason] *Erek becomes slackjawed by the Detective's admission, his head snaps away, pulling his attention from Drew to focus on the Detective woman. Eyebrows lift high on his head, nearly touching the hairline as he stares - and half chokes as he watches Izzy leave. He reaches out to grab at Drew's lap, clinging to her like a frighten child.

He turns his head to whisper conspiratorially to the kin he clings to*

...did she just suggest... do I... would...

*He never finishes the sentence, peering up at Drew with a grin before shaking his head*

I'm a dumb male that's interested in playing with her Xbox, or that Detective lady's, or who knows? Do you have an Xbox?

[Imogen] (I AM GOING TO BED NOW)

[Kora] (dies)

[Kora] (THAT TURNIP IS SO CONSPICUOUS.)

[Inconspicuous Turnip] (*rolls in through an open window*)