November 02, 2002
.11.02.02. - out for a walk [imogen-dire-lexi]

[jersey city]

(james)
so you take one Gnawer
damn well fed up with the crap he was put through the wringer with last night
not to mention the buildup over the past week

Lazarus, Missy, Mr. Creepy, Mr. Romani.... Horatio... the rotting leech

sometimes
you just have to take a walk
a long walk
so that's what he's taking
that.... walk

strides devouring concrete in a way that crosses cities in a night
the primitive urbanized beneath the steel and concrete towers
he's at home here
no matter how strange it is

(imogen)
Her mouth tightens slightly as she reaches up with one hand removing the badge of her office, and deliberately wrapping the string around the binding. As she places the badge into her pocket, she looks away for a moment, glancing down the street, before back again, But then you'd know that, Imogen, he says. "I don't know about tha'. But, if that is what y'wanna think," a dismissive roll of her shoulders, the fabric of the rain slicker creaking and whispering softly as the folds rub together.

(dire)
You must deal with death alot. Does it ever weigh on you?
*He tilts his head back the other way. And then whips his eyes around to watch a jogger. The hunter in him almost giving chase before the logic of his garou mind stops him. Sniff sniff ad the eyes go back to her*

(james)
the jogger mostly ignored as it moves around a corner, past him and around yet another corner
he's actually ignoring quite a lot of things
fairly wrapped up in his thoughts

strange indeed

but the flashing lights and caution tape around this next corner sort've gets his attention
huh. 'nother crime scene. wonder if Imo.....
well, I'll be.
and the tall Gnawer shifts to angle across the street

(imo)
Her head turns to follow the path of the jogger, watching until the slightly over weight gentleman disappears around a corner. "You deal death a lot," she reples, not quite a retort, but a banter. Twisting his words back on him, "Does it ever weigh on you?"

(dire)
Not at all. * he smiles softly* One does what one has to do. Then one does the next thing one has to do. * he scraches a forarm and looks around himself again and cautiously up at a street light eyeing it suspishiously before looking back to her* You are of the blood.. whos?

(imo)
Where there's death, it seems that more often, she'll be there. there must be other medical examiners in the city, but it's her face that the police have become the most familiar with. New blood takes the most tedious jobs. Perhaps its the fact she's female that makes it much worse for her than most.

She hesitates at his question. While the red haired woman is difficult to read to begin with, especially for his feral mind, but after all, it must be a question that she knows the answer to. The hesitation is enough, however, as it gives a chance for her to catch sight of James as he crosses the street. The answer is foregone in favour of a tilt of dark eyes as she watches the ratty Gnawer angle across the street toward them.

(dire)
*his eyes slide around and seem to track Imo's over to James and he blinks slowly*

(james)
all for naught, he still wears the easy smile
dreadlocks tucked back beneath a bandana
tattered trenchcoat washed and scrubbed and all but bleached to get the smell of sewage out
even his clothes seem strangely...... clean

you are never. ever. doing that again, James.

grin widening a bit

"Evenin' Imogen..... and.... Dire, right?"

(imo)
Dark eyes flicker to the gnawer as he speaks, "How are ye?" she asks in a tone of not actually asking a question, so much as offering a greeting, as indescribable blue eyes drop down over his clean clothes and squeaky clean apparel. "Y'had that much fun with dear friend," something about the way her voice lilts implies sarcasm, "Bastian, didje?"

(dire)
*He sniffs James a little from where hs stands, bringing both paws... HANDS.. they call them hands, up to wipe his nose and then drops the right one and theleft one gently scraches the tattoo over his left brow, that is in the shape of the Get glyph.
Today he's in a black WARCRAFT III teeshrt with a beautiful Night elf on the back, black fatigue pants and combat boots. Over one shoulder there is an old over full alice pack. He nods* Don't think I caught your name the other night?

(james)
there's soft laughter
glancing down
he knows she's never seen him this clean
he's rather amused by it, too (now, anyways)

"Hooo yea, tons of fun. We had a delightful little romp in the muck."

the spirits. must still. be laughing.
and he still can't smell anything other than that rusting tunnel
turning to the Get with those dark, dark eyes
without the layers of mud and street grime on his trench, it's amazing to notice the patchworking woven into it
especially the sheer amount of glyphs
that big one. right there? that would be Bone Gnawer

"You didn't. James."

one hand bandaged in rags like a boxer's extending to shake

"How's your leg?"

(dire)
*he nods slowly and shakes the hand. One silvery blond brow rising.* It's fine. Was just a scrach. Healed in 3 days o so. How's your Alpha's head? * he seems partialy amused*

(imo)
A faint snort, at least marginally amused, "Better you than me," she mutters, having had her share of unpleasant wadings. She has taken a half step away from the conversation, as her hands lightly pat her jean pockets, trying to recall where her lastest package of cigarettes were kept.

Her eyes flicker toward Dire, running down his leg. Finding no source of injury she looks away again, at some spot down the street.

(lexi)
Another night in the stupid city. Another night she hasnt found Daniel, another night she is not home.
Great...just splendid, the tall blond amazon-type girl certainly doesnt seem all that thrilled to be here...another night.
Jeans cover long legs, a black t-shirt with the words
*who me?* on the front in bright red. Another night, the girl is stuck here...She walks up the street, and spots a familiar face. Almost instantly she recalls the *good cop bad cop* game they played with the dunken bum, and it makes her lips turn into a smirk...heading that direction. Towards Imogen...and others

(james)
a brow almost lifts
Decker? Alpha?
oh that's rich

"His head is fine, I'll let him know you asked."

the look on Erik's face should also be priceless


(dire)
*He nods with a grin* I didn't think there was much there ta hurt. * he sniffs and agan wipes his nose. Frosty blue eyes flickerig around to take in Lexi's approach. The dark black tattoo in the get glyph over his left eye standing out on his skin. He looks back to Imo as she seems to scrach fleas.*

(imo)
A small crumpled package of cigarettes are found, and she taps one out, striding away from the conversing garou. Speaking of humans and the poisons they put into their bodies...

...Flare...

as the lighter spouts a small flame, placing the flame to the tip. Inhale. A glance at Lexi as she approaches, raising a half hand at the kinfolk in greeting. Exhale, grey smoke caught by the faintest of breezes, sending it away from the two Garou. She'd moved for a reason.

(dire)
*he blinks a bit perplexed by her actions and tilts his head watching her. He looks back to James* You smell funny. What muck were you wading though?

(lexi)
Slippin into the 'group' but closer to where Imogen stands she pulls out a cancer stick of her own, lighting it up and putting the blue bic lighter back in her pocket..."sup" she smirks over at Imogen and then stays quiet

(dire)
*He watches as the other female does the same and blinks slowly and reaches up to scrach his tatto in contemplation*


(james)
chuckles

"You know.... I've found several seem to share that opinion about Decker."

he hasn't still cleared up the lines between who's Alpha and who's not
rather enjoying the play on words going on
he's not lying by any means
and if Dire thinks enough of Decker to regard him as Alpha
the Gnawer isn't about to argue
lends strength to his packmate, and his true Alpha, should Erik's path ever cross Dires
(and with his luck, he's sure it will)

a bit of a smile for Imogen's consideration
even if he wouldn't have been able to smell the smoke anyway

"Remember the creepy guy I was supposed to meet? He decided we needed to take a romp in the sewers."

apparently he hasn't scrubbed enough.

(dire)
*He listens and looks back to james and gestures to the ladies smoking and raises his brows, even his hair seems to elevate a half inch in the unspoken question.

He'd assumed Decker was the Alpha because he'd beent he one talking mostly and had attacked. Not an inslut to James, or rather not a purposeful one. He'd just seemed subserviant that evening. Those that arn't born human give more creddance to actions than words at times.

He nods to the creepy guy thing.* You get him? * he looks around himself and snarls a little at a basserby that got a touch too close. Sending the man scurrying for a few steps before looking back to James*

(imogen)
She's apparently being paying attention to the conversation, even half way. Because as the connection made between Decker's head, and what's in it, and several people sharing the same opinion results in an amused smirk, a faint sound of a near chuckle in her throat. The cigarette is slipped between her fingers, inhaling slowly as she nods her head acknowledging Lexi.

A few buildings down, a crime scene is taped off with yellow caution tape, and a police car in front of it. Her dark eyes flicker toward it, as a man walks out, wearing a suit several decades too old. A pause as Imogen watches him, step out, speak with someone and disappear back inside again. Her free hand reaches down pulling a pager clipped to her waist, peering at the LED for a moment before replacing it.


(lexi)
She glances to the 2 guys talking, then back to Imogen as she checks her pager.
Bored...again
funny how this city did that to ya. She pulls more smoke from the cig and exhales with a big cloud....and a sigh..
Bored...

(james)
there's that grin again

"Smoking. It's a pleasure habit."

Dire's perplextion, or need for an explanation, doesn't seem to phase him one bit
it's all taken in stride
just like that Alpha remark
he's on the lower end of the pack's totem pole, allright
so takes no offense to the perceived subservience
while Urrah and born on two legs, his education is strong
the Frankenweilers made sure he understood it by instinct, and by the books

"Sort've. Our business isn't finished yet, so I can't be too decisive with my actions."

not to mention
he has no clue what he's up against
so wasn't about to start a rumble on his own
and with that box.... it still seems like Mr. Creepy will be useful

(dire)
*He grunts and nods looking at the women still a bit baffeled.*

Looks painful.

*he snorts a bit and looks around and back to James* You need help? indecisiveness can be costly.

(imo)
Smoking. A pleasure habit. Musty smoke is blown past her lips, glancing at the boys as they speak, smirking faintly, as she taps ash toward the ground. A sideways glance at the obviously bored Fenrir kinfolk.

Fenrir are coming out through the woodwork, lately. "Find yer boy yet?"

(lexi)
She shakes her head.."nope...doesnt look too good" she shrugs..."he could very well be dead" she shrugs.."or worse fallen" she sighs.."not much i could do about it anyways...but im still looking"
She glances to the boys again and then to Imogen..."I dont give up too quickly though, guess thats a good thing" she smirks a bit..."whos that?" she nods her head at the new guy

(imo)
She nods slightly, making a half mental note to begin her own checking, through her own routes. The legal world would most certainly have heard of Danny, had he died; or been any trouble.

A jerk of her head toward Dire, slipping the cigarette back between her lips, speaking around the filter, "One of your tribemates. Says 'is name's Dire."

(james)
there's a bit of a nod

"Never picked up the habit, myself. And I need to go over some stuff with the boys first, but once we have a plan, we'll count you in."

there's a bit of a wry smirk
he knows all about indecision
though the fallen remark sorta gets his entire attention
pointedly looking over at Imogen and the new girl

(dire)
*he perks at the fallen comment and his head turns to Lexi. At her inquiry he nods to her* Dire.
* The new guy is in combat boots, black fatigue pants, a black warcraftIII shirt with a beautiful night elf on the back. A overstuffd alice pack on his shoulder. He's tall and that sort of wiry musseled kind of guy. Platinum blond hair, a normal face exvept for the Get glyph over the left brow.*

(lexi*
Ahhh she nods her head in the direction of Dire..."names Lexi" she murmers

(dire)
*He nods and takes a step twords her and bends at the hips sniffin her hair and then straightening up a bit exiting her space* Dire Warning. * he nods* Your of the blood? * Yep he listens.*

(imo)
The Garou's attention suddenly on them both, her head turns, looking at the Gnawer rather than the Fenrir, "She's lookin' for her cousin," she says evenly in Isle tones, not bothering to elabourate further.

(dire)
*He nods to James. The Gnawers were always good for Information. A decent tribe to have at your flank, even if they smell funny from time to time. The get have always needed spear carriers and such.* Alot of that sort of thing going around.

(james)
oh great
another meeting of like minds
wonder if this is going to go over as well as the meeting of Dire and Decker

the tall Gnawer doesn't do much more than watch, now
he's used to being set aside
a dark glance to Imogen
wanting to question something,but he won't interrupt

(imo)
Her dark eyes narrow silently as the Fenrir invades Lexi's space, glancing sideways at James. The questioning glance is caught, and tossed back, but likewise, she won't interrupt. Equally, stepping half out of the conversation, and becoming a bystander.

(james)
while Dire has been accepted, he isn't Pack
and Lexi is an absolute stranger

it's amazing how easily a tall, dreadlocked, patchwork coat wearing man can ease out of your attention
melting a little further back from the conversation
letting Imogen fade with him
waiting until they're, well, several feet away

he's still paying attention to the two tribesmaes
just seeming to be giving them their space

"How's things been?"

real quiet like
he didn't spend countless nights in the motel room with her just to forget what it was that was out there that he was guarding her from on those said nights
she may be able to peel paint with a look
but she's still in his Circle

(dire)
*he blinks at Lexi and tilts his head at her silene. Turning he's noted that the Gnawer and the other kin have pulled away a bit. Perhaps they are mates. They seemed to know each other and are speaking all quiet like. he can hear them but he's got a bit of a head ake from all the noise in this damn place.*

(imo)
Her hands are shoved into her pocket as she likewise steps from the conversation, attention still spared toward it, but she has no part in it. Much of her interaction with the Garou world is like that. Sitting in a motel room, while two Garou discuss the plans of war. Sitting in the motel room, while one Modi tells an Ahroun where he is going, and that the kinfolk is not to know. And she sits on the bed and smokes.

Able to peel paint with a look, and with a mouth to twist words around into your face, she isn't a wall flower. But like James, she easily steps away until they're several feet away. Her attention shifts sharply as he asks after her well being, mildly startled. "Quiet," a faint twitch of a smile lurking in the corner of one mouth. "The hell if I can tell if I'm where I should be."

(dire)
*his eyes dart over to the sewer grate and his brows knit and he growls softly bristeling*

(james)
he can't help the slight grin at her sudden focus directly on him
didn't expect that one, didja
and maybe he'll just never explain why he is concerned
but either way he nods
slow. easy. that's cool.

"Yea.... join the club."

well
he KNOWS he shuldn't have been where he was last night


(dire)
*He watches the sewer grate intently now. Turning to face it he blinks as cars drive inbetween he and it and shakes hishead* Damn goblins....

(imo)
Dire watches the sewer grate intently. Imogen's attention flicks to him eyes narrowing slightly as he starts to talk about goblins.

A half breath of amusement, a faint exhalation that, could, perhaps, in another person, been a chuckle. Knowing where you shouldn't be, is different than knowing where you should be. She knows perfectly that she shouldn't be where she was. "Who's president?" she inquires absently, watching the feral act rather ... feral.... in the middle of a city.
(dire
*He blinks and looks over at Imo his brows rising* Don't know. Don't really care either. WHy? he sending them? I wouldn't put it past the government. * he glares at the next huma that walks by as if it might be their fault he's seeing small foot talk green goblins with pointy ears that bite*

(james)
once more
we are visited by either confusion, perplextion, or something somewhere inbetween
an almost chuckle?
from her?
oh..... this should be good

goblins, eh?

"Not sure yet, elections aren't until next week."

if he lives that long
but he never really thinks about whether or not he'll die tomorrow
it's today that counts

(imogen)
Dire answers a question meant for James, asked in a brief showing of the less barbed end of her wit. What's more, he doesn't answer the question sanely.

The cigarette is burned to the filter and she tosses it to the ground, the cherry scattering, to be extinguished beneath the grinding heel of her boot. ".... sending who...?" she asks after a moment.


(dire)
*he tilts his head and steps over to them. Evidently he missed something while watching the goblin peeking out of the sewer. He shuts up and listens now*

(james)
his head tilts
dreads shifting in their bandana cage

"Dire.... who's being sent. The goblins?"

(imo)
When she had heard the feral speak of goblins, she'd dismissed it as half heard. Misunderstood.

Everyone knew there was no such thing as goblins. (Everyone knew there was no such thing as werewolves.)

As James speaks of the goblins now, though, an eyebrow arches, as she apparently did not mishear after all. And waits for Dire to answer the question, her weight shifting faintly from one foot to another.

(dire)
I don't know... I thought that's what you said? * he scraches his head* They are sneaky little fuckers I'll tell you what. They crawl around... and most times only I can see um right? Well they sneak up.. and if you arn't careful they'll steal shit.. or bite... The other night in the barrens they were in the trees... Hunting this littl shippified coggie kin or something. I hear them snickering all the time in the shadows... little fuckers.. I'll goosh those sorry bastards given half a chance too.

(james)
yes
incredulity abounds
goblins. right.
but it's a moment of thought while browsing the library of his mind
then refocusing on Dire

"What did you not give them credit for?"

(dire)
Oh I give them credit for al kinds of shit... it's others that think I'm crazy that piss um off. * he uses the heels of his hands to wipe his eyes hard* Sadistic little shitlickers... You gotta keep an eye on um.

(imogen)
Keep an eye on goblins you couldn't see.

Goblins.

Hands steal into her jean pockets as she listens to the conversation, having stepped outside of it for now.


(james)
"Well.... normally...."

it is established fact that nothing is normal around him anymore
nothing.
need he even review last night's turns of events

(crawling through a tiny tunnel in a sewer!! in lupus!! with a huge. fucking. spider!! clinging to his head.... and we're not even going into the leftovers of Dracula!! that looked entirely too surprised to see him just popping the lid right of that coffin!!)

"..... they attack like that when you haven't given them credit for something they did for you, rather than against you. Or maybe that was gremlins."

the tall Gnawer stops
sucking to chew on bottom lip in thought

"I don't think you're crazy, Dire, you just need help."

(dire)
*He growls just a touch. He's heard that one before.* Short Stuff said that was brownies. These are just mean sadistic little shits that delight in tormiting me because I'm one of the few that can SEE them. * he nods and snorts. Looks up at the sky.* Sel... I should go.

(imo)
She rocks her weight back onto her heels as James speaks, dark eyes downswept, staring at Dire through coppery lashes. Her features are easily unreadable. There's no way to tell if she believes in the goblins, or if she thinks he's slowly losing his mind. She watches, the conversation washing over and around her.


(jame)
Short Stuff?
Oh.... must be Nova.
there's a bit of a nod to that, though

"I can dig it.

it's obvious he didn't mean the help line as an insult

"How can we reach you if we need you?"

(dire)
I'm in the woods. Chewie and Short stuff and I are thinking of packin' up. Short is still limping a bit but just give a howl. * he nods and turns to the buss stop. squints and reads the sign for times and looks around. His hand lashing out to grab the arm of a business man passing my he looks at the mans watch and nods. The business man all but has a stroke and scurries away from what he assumes is a demented mugger. The buss comes a few seconds later and Dire hops on.*

(imogen)
"... one day, the guy's gonna put a gun to his head..." she murmers to herself as Dire freaks out a business man, her right hand absently rubbing her left arm watching until the bus departs, glancing sideways the Gnawer. "I'm going. Need a lift somewhere?" A sideways glance at the Gnawer. If she's doing it to be polite, it's hard to say. If she's doing it because she's a kinfolk and he's a Garou, it would not be surprising.


(james)
Chewie must be the blond that looked all too familiar
hmmm..
wonder what their names will end up being
but howls work, he knows of sounds that carry even farther
so all's good

well, the gun remark especially gets a chuckle

a sidelong glance revealing a bit of surprise on his part, now

"Know a studio nearby that doesn't mind strangers?"

last place he knew of was by the old m_tel
and that's a bit of a walk still


(imogen)
He surprised her. She surprised him. Like him, she isn't likely to say why she bothers. An eyebrow lifts slightly at the question, features clouding for a moment in thought, "By the motel, I think. I don't know anything closer."

A hand reaching into her pocket, a jangle of keys as she slips a finger through the ring, pulling them from the pocket as she glances at him, half turning to face him, "If y'don't know anything closer, and that's where you want t'go..." the sentence is completed in meaning. She'll drive him there.

(james)
dreads shift over his shoulders in a nod

"That's the only one I know of, so far. I haven't found anything near here yet... they don't mind me using the bags long as I don't break them."

a quick dig of bandaged hands into his pocket
pulling out crumpled bills
flattening them to count
five.... seven... eight.... ten
he's got enough to hang there for awhile

glancing back up with a soft smile

"I'd appreciate it."

already following her lead

(imo)
"Yeah, they seemed pretty flexible," she notes absently. Though it must be hard for a Garou not to break the bags. Bred to kill, and yet told not to break plastic?

Her head nods slightly, acknowledging his off hand thanks, provided without saying the words. "I'm just a few blocks this way," she says, nodding in a direction as she starts to walk.

[cont'd]

Posted by james at November 02, 2002 12:00 AM