February 09, 2003.02.09.03. - down at julio's [diego-imogen-decker-tristan][north jersey]
(james)
there's a little dive down on 42nd street in Hibernia
you can smell it before you can even see it
just some little hole in the wall that nobody really notices
so that would be why there's only a few customers inside
and the outer patio area? there's only oneone raggedy man braving the cold evening weather
dreads layering up over shoulders to keep in the warmth
patchwork trenchcoat tucked all tight around him
the chairs are probably less than stable
and the table is in need of a good cleaning
there's a Camel sparked up in one hand
the other manages a fork over the piled high plate
quite the coy feline smile from where the steam drifts up from the foodJulio's serves the best fucking Mexican food for a ten mile radius
(diego)
and so of course he knows about it. Mrs rodriquez down the hall had told him about ir. of course her food was better and he was more than welcome to come over whenever he needed a meal, a nice young boi like him. is sure there would be a lot of neices and grand daughters present when he gets invited over.anyway if it was good enough for her to actually say it was good, then it must be the best in the city so after rugging up (how do you people stand the cold ) he looks like a moving ball of fluff he tramps his way along the paving and towards the resteraunt.
(james)
tortillas flash heated in oil
meat so tender it fell apart on your fork
cheeeeeeeeeeese in all it's melty gooey goodness
piled high with guacamole and salsa and sour cream and even. more. cheese.
by now, the Camel has been snubbed out in the tray
and he's digging into the pile of (what exactly is that) with flourish
outright inhaling the mountain of foodit's during one of those times he just has to come up for air
or just wash what he's chewing down with a slug of Corona
he looks up and around the street
brow lifting bit to see the semi-familiar ball of bundled warmth
still too far away to call out, though, so he waits(deigo)
hes been spotted as well. i mean you inhale a meal that quickly and people are going to notice, again he wonders if gnawrers actually chew. .. step falters for a moment floundering in the snow he almost falls as he comes to an aburpt stop on that icy surface. for a moment he stares just watching for now. torn between conflicting instincts. finally he steels himself an finnishes his walks towards the hole in the wall resteraunt. "juuu mind if i sit here?" shy nervous reluctant hoping. standing oposite james he is an empty doll just waiting for the answer.(james)
he notices that slip and steel
even if there's nothing that overtly betrays that
deep umber eyes climbing upwards to hear the small, soft voice
and his lips move into a warm, easy (read: welcoming) smile"Not at all." a thumb hooks back over his shoulder towards the resturaunt "I haven't paid my tab yet, if you're hungry or anything.... just tell Esperanza that you're with me."
(diego)
"gracias" he nods slightly his own face flickering into a sort of almost smile. so maybe you dont bite. he drifts inside to place an order. nodding that yes he is outside and thankyou could they please bring it out when its ready, yes he will take the cola now. and yes he will cover the bill for both their meals..glass in hand he moves back to the table pulling out that other (most rickety chair) he sits in it slowly almost leaping right out again (oh so cold) before settling back down. .
(james)
by the time the little Walker disappears and comes back out again
the Gnawer is using the last bits of tortilla to pile the remnants of his meal into a mini-mountain
the last two taquitos used to clean that up
dark eyes lift as he's stretching out
the chair tilted back to what must be more precarious than comfortable
it's amazing the chair hasn't broken yet
(maybe that's why he chose this table)"They give you any grief about it?"
he knows they wouldn't
but it's a conversation starter if anything(diego)
"que? why would they give me grief?" who would be giving him grief, he just looks lost. as he waits for his food. sipping at that coke, should of got something warm(imogen)
It's bloody cold, so the two outside draw her attention, even from a block away as she carefully slides a guitar case into the trunk of her black mercedes. Eyes narrow faintly as if the movement will ease the blur of distance peering at what might be a familiar form.Okay, yeah, it is a familiar form.
A gloved hand presses the trunk lid down, before she completes the turn that her gaze over her shoulder had begun. A casual glance both ways over the street before crossing toward the small hole, with all it's goodness and treasures hidden by dingy apparel, and other small business trappings.
As she reaches the fenced in area of the patio, she does not enter, but stops across from James's and Diego's table, her hand curling over the wrought iron fence that encloses the area. Her other hand pushes back strands of hair, escaped from her braid, tucking the recalcitrant locks behind her ear, as a smirk slips across her lips, a half greeting nod to both, though her words are tossed toward James (she knows him, this is easier), "You and Tristan seem obsessed with catching pneumonia outside," It's fucking cold, the wind has caused a faint flush to rise over pale white skin, like the delicate colouring of a poppy. "A family trait, per'aps?" Soft accent, lilting, creating a near song of her words.
(james)
the laughter is soft
not condescending, but amused"They shouldn't have, which is why I asked." smiled "So what's got you out in the cold?"
there's many a reason why he comes here
the food is cheap, and it's quickly made
not even ten minutes later Espi's shuffling outside
talking in some Spanglish the Gnawer only half understands
probably scolding about why they're choosing to sit outside rather than inside where it's warm
but she lays Diego's plate infront of him
and James trades her an empty bottle and plate for another Corona
(she knows him so well)
lighting up yet another Camel
smoke added to the moist fog of his breath in the air
the purse of lips sliding into a quirked grin as head tilts
dreads stumbling down over his shoulders due to gravity
winking at the chilled Kinfolk"Probably.... we have this habit of sleeping outside in weather colder than this. Wanna join us?"
lifting the beer to gesture towards the food
both an offer, pneumonia probably included, too(diego)
he just grins at the woman complimenting her in spanish on the food and appologising for making her come out into the cold to bring it to him. something about Mizzzz rodriquez being right this is the best place for food in the entire city. she contines to mutter altohugh its more along the lines of such a polite young man now.eyes watch imogen even as he takes the first bite of his meal (a slightly smaller version of the monstrosity james was eating and appears to be chicken). he might not be Gnawer but hes still a growing boi so he can eat it almost as quickly. "hola"
(imogen)
"Hola," she answers Diego absently, "¿Como stas?" more a momentary question, not actually expecting an answer from him, though mexican spanish must sound odd when wielded by a british tongue."Yes, but," as she takes a few steps to reach the gate, entering, and grabbing one of the chairs from a nearby table (it's not as if anyone else would want to come sit outside), "You're two of the only people I know that actually do it when you've got a choice f'r th'otherwise.
"I'll skip the food, though." Amusement flickers though not quite as telling, because she doesn't actually smile.
(james)
if she smiled he'd probably have a heart attack
and the lift of his brow shows it
leaning over to wipe a bit of snow off the table before where she sits
food or not she shouldn't have to rest her elbows in slush
his pack tossed out between them in offer
something of a nod towards the smaller Garou"Bah.... it's for the food. Even Diego would agree it's worth the chill."
(diego)
blinks in surprise hadnt expected her to speak spanish, "bueno" single word muttered around a forkfull of food. it seems hes relaxing a bit around james "it is definatly worth braving the cold for the food."(imogen)
A brief glance toward Diego as he speaks around a mouthful of food, a faint nod acknowledging the answer, before her eyes flicker toward James, "I'll take y'r word for it, then," as she removes her gloves, shoving them into the pocket of her jacket."s'not as if you're in that much danger o' cold, anyway."
(james)
he's got a belly full of incredible food
he's surrounded by pleasent company
he's got a beer, and a smoke
all sortsa relaaaaaxed
and hopefully it's spread out towards the smaller Garou
unless it's the full moon he figures not much gets to the Kin
at least... that she lets show anyway
it's as much of a mystery as her humor
a boot snakes out to drag yet another chair over
then his rickety one rights itself with a creak beneath weight
both feet propping themselves on the newest arrival of chairs
brow lifting to slip a glance back at Imogen"I'm fucking freezing woman."
just because he's not actually going to get pneumonia
doesn't mean he's not turning into a popsicle beneath those multple layers(imogen)
And the full moon does not bother her as much as it should. She reaches out to pick up the packet of cigarettes, tapping out one of the camels. They seem to share smokes freely, at least between the two Gnawers and the redhaired kin. Imogen lends hers, James lends his, Tristan lends his. It all works out in the end.Half to lighting the cigarette, she looks up at James, amusement flaring in dark blue eyes as an eyebrow arches. "You, James, get zero sympathy. There's a perfectly good restaurant right there." Cigarette, still unlit, leaving her mouth as she uses her left hand to point toward the actual restaurant, before glancing at Diego, shaking her head, "No, thanks. I'm good."
The cigarette is replaced between her lips as her hand reaches into her jacket pocket, likely probing for her lighter.
(decker)
So the cold snap has taken over the land again. Damn groundhog must've seen his shadow after all. Decker's following the homing beacon of James' satisfaction (fooooood.) from half a mile away, driving and then parking, parking and then walking the rest of the way out to Julio's.Snow's piled high atop the corrugated metal roof of the little hole. Decker eyes the metal roof, the shingle walls, and figures it's probably not much warmer inside unless they had space heaters going full blast. Air probably wasn't so fresh (er. fresh? try searing cold.) inside, either, so maybe James had it right after all.
Mounting the crooked steps up to the patio area, the Modi nods up at his packmate, gives Diego a curious-careless stare (gnawer kin right? scared-shitless one? practically the only type he ever meets.), and smirks quietly at the sight of Imogen looking for matches. Doesn't make any comment this time 'round, though.
"Ain't y'all saved nothin' fer me?" he asks, cool-quiet-southern low and rough at the edges as he pulls up another chair, assfreezingly cold after having sat out in this weather so long.
(tristan)
The nachos hit the spot last night, but it barely touched his appetite for some decent Mexican food, and its in that frame of mind that after saying goodbye to the last of tonight’s brave listeners, he packs up beloved instrument, and starts walking. James had mentioned a decent (read: cheap and still good) place to grab some grub down the way so he may as well check it out. Grab some for Diego too if its as good as James claims.
Bundled up as he was last night - he’s added an extra layer tonight, its bloody well cold out here. Not only are there the warmers in his violin case, but he’s got one in his coat pocket too in order to keep fingers limber as well, switching hands often. Quick ground eating strides round the corner and head toward Julios.(james)
there's probably a bare handful of things he would not share freely
cigarettes are not included in that handful
it's one of the many things he will share, or even give up his last of, without a second thought"The smoke bothers Esperanza even if she doesn't say anything about it." said so matter of factly "And besides, if I wanted your sympathy? I'd crawl up on my hands and knees... and still get nothing."
oh so blatantly teased
that's about when the Modi walks up
there's a nod up, and a careful watch of that stare
(Kin.... right)
and here he goes hooking his thumb over a shoulder again
back towards the little dive that, well, probably isn't much warmer"Yes, and your being here means I won't have to cart it home. It would be special number three in the stack of 'to go' boxes on the back counter."
(diego)
if hes bone gnawrer then hes got himself a sugar daddy cause hes dressed way to well. that coat has come from somwhere much more expensive than the local thrift shop. and the layers underneath it. he doesnt go fleeing for his life this time although eyes cut to james ever so quickly. before that blank porcalin mask falls into place. there is a slight nod for decker as he rises slowly heading into the resteraunt. the closes he will probably get to an achnoledgement although its almost a bow " i'll get it for you i needed another drink anway"(decker)
James gets a long stare that could mean anything. Most would mistake it for a i'm-about-to-pound-yer-ass-into-the-dirt-fer-no-apparent-reason stare. Fortunately, James is Decker's packmate, and at least somewhat used to the crackling ragefield he carries in his wake like a Concorde trails sonic booms. There's some measure of bemusement there."Think o' everythin', don'tcha?" he comments, getting up outta the chair again, only to sit his ass down when Diego goes instead. "Yeah, alright," tossed carelessly toward the 'kin' as he turns his attention back on James. "'Nother one o' yers runnin' around the city. Randal. Owns that videoshop down in AC? Bringin' 'im to see ya yesterday night but he got his ass lost."
Had nothing to do with Decker going 80 on the dark icy freeway. Nothing at all.
And Imogen: "Need a light?"
(imogen)
A sound in the back of her throat that is nearly a chuckle to James, smirking in his direction, "Well, good, I wouldn't want y'to waste y'r breath on somethin' like that."Decker's smirk receives an arched eyebrow in return as the fire-haired kinfolk watches the Fenrir draw up a place at the rapidly filling table. Conversation drifts about feeding Decker, and she did not bring her lighter with her today. The cigarette is pulled from her mouth, held lightly between loose fingers, as her attention sharpens once more on the Modi, tilting a slight nod in his direction, "It would seem so, yeah."
(tristan)
Ahhhhh, a deep inhale pulls scents out of frozen air… foooooooood… something near and dear to the pretty boy kin’s heart. The little dive in the wall with the gathering on the patio brings boyish grin (better ease up on that good natured take shit as it comes stuff - or he’s gonna take it out on pretty boys face) plays around lips.
Decker, James and Imogen - good company. Well. 2 out of three isn’t bad. He Heads up to the little patio area and pauses next to the table. “Room for another?” Grinned as he goes about switching hands - exchanging violin for warmer before the latter is tucked with his hand into coat pocket with only one pause - to make sure his hat is still over his ear and taming the curls.(diego)
he steps out from the resteraunt one of the 2 go boxes in his hands order number three 2 beers and a coke balanced on top.and to think he just wanted a nice quiet meal. good food and maybe a nice conversation with someone. instead he feels like hes been set up once more. he almost wants to growl. (although its definatly at deckers back and out of site) a flash of a smile for tristan, hey you. before that empty mask falls back into place. the food and one of the beers for decker the other for james and the coke for him. he claims his chair again moving it that bit closer to james (and that bit further away from decker)
(decker)
Right. So he leans back in his chair, front legs coming off the ground. He takes his time pushing his hands into one pocket after before finally feeling the telltale shape of the little cardboard box. One carton Ace strike-anywhere matches produced from his left thigh pocket. Less than a half-dozen left by the lightness and the way the matches rattle inside. Oughta buy new ones soon. The chair legs bang back down on patio deck and he sets elbows on the table, tapping the box on the table while he cocks a skeptical eyebrow at her."Suppose ya want me to light yer smoke too?"
If he notes Diego's annoyance, he doesn't show it. Like so many other things, it fell into his 'who the fuck cares?' category. Convenient, that. Lets him concentrate on more interesting things.
(james)
yeh, one can say he's damn well used to it
anyone else would probably cringe or slink away from that ragefilled stare
but this Gnawer? takes it all in stride
slow grin widening rather unrepetantly
because yes, he does think of everything
or at least tries to where pack is concerned"What Rune was mentioning this morning, halfway ran into him one time, but was sort've busy.... think Tristan knows him. Any particular reason he's looking for me?"
a nod up (yes) for Tristan
and he doesn't move away as Diego moves closer
letting the smaller Ga...er... Kin sneak into his shadow
a bit of a level stare returned to the Modi
(there better be a 'thank you' instead of a grunt)
then it slides away to the Walker
yes, another beer, in freezing weather"Thanks."
(imogen)
Decker takes his sweet time finding matches, and Imogen watches him for a beat or three, before her attention flickers toward Tristan, half greeting.And then attention returns to Decker, sliding the cigarette lightly between her slender fingers. His skeptical eyebrow arches and her own raises to match his, as one elbow leans on the table, half moving her chair further over, because this table's starting to get crowded, somewhat, and there'll need to be some shifting to get Tristan in.
"Just give me the damned matches, Rohl," she replies, a curve of her lips dispelling any thought of annoyance that her tone might denote as her hand reaches across the table, palm upturned. "I'll try and find the independance to light it myself."
(decker)
"Naw," drawled as he takes the beer from Diego, sets it down, and reaches up to take the food too. Onehanded, 'cause he still got matches in the other hand. And - yeah, there's a grunt instead of a thanks. Continuing, "Think he jus' wanted to check in. Yer the only damn Gnawer 'round these parts 'r somethin'. Cept fer that Coyote pack."Odd, when you consider Jersey seems the kinda thing Gnawers would dig. Julio's looks like it mighta been run by one of their kin. Shoddy exterior, good hearty food. How much more Gnawer can you get?
Snorting at Imogen, "Well shit, independence 'n Imogen." The box of matches is flipped underhand toward her. "Whodathunk."
A easy twist of his hand gets the cap right off, dropped on the tabletop with a clink. He pops the styrofoam box open, hunts around for a fork, digs in.
(Tristan)
He grins and sets his violin case down under Diego’s chair with a wink (and slide of hand in hello over his knee, unseen) before hands tuck into pockets and he sees that everyone has something - cept Imogen, and you know, really beginning to wonder if she ever eats. So! Hands come back out of pockets, and he points to the door. “Yeah, I know Randal.. seems to be a good enough kid.” A payse, a nod and “Food - back momentarily” And he heads inside the paperthinwalled shack that is just as cold as it is outside, to the counter to order…(diego)
grunt is more than enough acknowledgement for him and the more attention he pays to anyone but him the better. another smile for tristan before he dissapears inside. for now content to watch (cower)(James)
"'Yote left on tour a bit ago, hitting some cities out of state before they'll be back."tossed out absently
that would be why his cash flow has begun to lessen
not doing the odd job or three for the band since they're not around
soon enough, he'll be back on the street corners again
whodathunk
he is the one folks are reporting to
now if that doesn't beat all.....
because yes, Jersey seems a place Gnawers would sort've flourish in
odd indeed
brows furrowing thoughtfully through the next long swig of Corona
his boots pull off the extra chair, making room for Tristan upon the momentary return"You get enough to eat, Diego?"
quietly, glancing to the (cowering) boy
he said he'd watch over the younger Garou, and he meant it(imogen)
He tosses the matches at her, and she has to fumble to catch them, previously outstretched hand jerking backward to make up for the underhanded arc of his throw. "Thanks..." Dry.Her cigarette is replaced in her mouth and the matches tapped out, one pulled from the box, and then once again the box is tapped shut. Decker favours strike anywhere matches, struck across his boot, a wall, anything. She just strikes across the side of the box, one hand cupping the flame as she brings the match to the tip of cigarette. Inhale, light up. A flick of her wrist extinguishes the burning match as her other hand pushes the matches back toward the Fenrir.
It's habitual as she turns her head away to blow toxic smoke from her lungs, a blue grey exodus, familiar smell.
(decker)
Decker's scarfing down food again. He doesn't get so totally lost in the goodness of down-home Mexican as James, though, and doesn't quite miss Diego's cowering. Or James' concern over someone who was dressed just a little bit too well to really be Gnawer kin. But whatever, it ain't his concern, and he didn't really feel like asking. Not yet, at least.Doesn't quite miss that Imogen's the only one not eating, either. If he hadn't personally watched her eat on a few occasions, he'd be wondering if the woman ate at all, either. Maybe she subsisted on cigarette smoke. Well hell, at least she looked good smoking, and if he was gonna find out how she tasted later, he's rarely in the state of mind to make any sort of critique by that point.
It's all good.
Pausing midbite, fork held in his mouth, he takes the matches back and leans his weight to one side. Pushes the box back into his pocket. Sits again, hunkered over his food, and pauses - chewing - to question, "Ain't hungry?"
(diego)
is that an almost grateful smile "more than enough" soft low voice flowing in that south of the border accent.is almost glad Imogen is there makes him feel less short. plus she seems to posess some strange power that calms the big bad wolf. or prehaps thats the food either way. he doesnt care
(tristan)
He’s not long, returning in the promised minute, eyes twinkling merrily as Esperenza continues to mutter about his joining the rest of the crazies out in the cold. He takes the seat recently vacated by James’ boots, hands still in his pocket as he waits for his meal, one sliding out to take out the hand warmer, and offer it to Deigo, knowing the well dressed boy is from far warmer climates “Should last a few more minutes…” tease laced in his voice, before he relaxes back in the frigid cold. Relatively quiet - tempers that good natured teasing shit way down for Decker most days, not that he’d ever believe it - and with the moon waxing it’s time to do so again. Ankles cross, and long legs tuck under his chair as he listens… watches the oh so independent Imogen, but is also good - and does not ask about that dowry crap either. Instead? Yup, boy stays quiet.
(james)
he has concern for someone dressed entirely too well to be Gnawer Kin
of course, he's a Gnawer that can be found living in an enormous condo
but since he's shown himself to appear utterly heartless in some situations
(banaman)
shows that the boy has to be at least Kin, or somethin
but as long as it isn't asked about
he doesn't say a damned word"Good."
okay, maybe one word
there's that easy grin again
pleased that the almost grateful smile eeked its way to the surface
when the Gnawer kin sits down
he's up, heading back inside
must need another beer or something(imogen)
It's easy to dwaf Imogen, so even Diego is taller than she is, with only a few inches (if that) over five feet to make her slender frame seem that much more petite. Put her near thick muscled Decker, or lanky lean James, and that makes the impression even worse.The dowry would certainly be an interesting conversation right about now, yep.
The ember brightens as she inhales on the filter of the cigarette again, attention turned toward the Fenrir, shaking her head, "I already ate," she explains as smoke mixes with her words.
And so, conversation isn't that much of an issue, here. Eating food, smoking, drinking coronas, whatever it is they're up to, breath misting because of the cold. The lights of the patio are dingy, casting pale orange reflections, muting brightness.
(diego)
he frowns at the hand warmer, then grin hunting around in his own pockets. "you keep it i have something work just as well" pulling out breifly what looks like a glowstick (you know the type you snap) .snap. oooh look at that it burns so bright glowing already tucks it deep into the layers of his clothing nestled against his brest bone with only one layer of clothing seperating it from skin.(tristan)
Even he drawf’s Imogen - but then again he’s even taller then James, so it’s not too surprising. Long and lanky, and naturally lean. He laughs at the glowstick Diego pulls free “no fair - yours is prettier” oh that grin isn’t wicked at all, is it, as he slides his back into his pocket, and smiles a thanks up a the lady muttering in spanglish about them out in the cold. A soft thanks as he takes his food, and digs in, quickly and efficiently (can we say inhale?) which is the gnawer way, forearm on the table, somewhat around his food, fork making steady trips from plate to mouth and back again.(decker)
At some point Decker finishes up, tossing his fork down in the empty box and slapping it closed atop it. Was a race against time to see whether he finished the food before it cooled in this weather or not. Leaning back, he looks at Diego's glowstick, then at Tristan as the violinist pops off with his not so subtle innuendo. Is he sayin...aw, that's sick.Decker? Not tolerant. There's a grunt as he grabs his empty box up, flattens it, and frisbees it toward the trash can in the corner of the patio. That finished, he gets to his feet and pushes his chair in, hooking his beer up with his free hand. A swig, and then he bumps Imogen's shoulder lightly with the butt of the beer. Through her thick clothing, it's probably barely felt.
"You pick yer car up yet? From last night."
(diego)
diego just ignores that not so subtle inuendo or at least trys to the fact that he was sipping coke at the time. and the fact that it tried to exit his body via his nose doesnt help.smiles at him huddling around the growing warmth radiating from the glow stick (there not supposed to be warm are they?) watching decker. wary watching imogen watching tristan even hes just a bundle of nerves.
(imogen)
A faint blink toward Tristan and his innuendo before smirking faintly, her attention turning away to watch as the Fenrir makes his intolerance known with a grunt and gets up from the table.A slight shake of her head, as she taps ash toward the concrete beneath the chair and her feet. "No, I haven't gotten the huge desire to take a taxi cab 'cross the state to pick up work's car."
She tugs lightly at the bottle that had so recently nudged her shoulder an eyebrow lifting in query as she raises the cigarette back to her mouth.
(decker)
Misunderstanding, Decker frowns down at the barely-touched bottle. "Ain't drunk that much." Wait, or did she want... "Oh." He lets go of the bottle, ceding it over to her. "C'mon." His hand falls on the back of her chair, ready to push it back in after she got up. "Give ya a ride."(tristan)
Decker is intolerant. Oh. The. Shock. But he just lifts a brow at Decker, before chuckling. Everyone knows he meant the glow stick - it is, after all, prettier then his own hand warmer and they’re a bunch of dirty minded Garou for thinking anything different. The epitome of innocence is he, after all.
though he can’t help but laugh at the coke out the nose trick, murmuring a “sorry man.” Though it is, at best, half-hearted, behind that boyish grin. He glances up at Decker as he stands and gets ready to go, Imogen in tow, and simply goes about finishing his meal between sips of his beer. “Later guys” offered their way.(imogen)
The corner of her mouth lifts slightly, be it because he misunderstood, or because she was getting some of the beer. "Alright," standing up and pinching her cigarette out between her fingers, extinguishing the ember, rather than grinding it between her heel. A swallow of the beer as her other hand deposits the cigarette into her pocket, "I drove 'ere usin' m'own car," she explains, moving away from the chair, and if she doesn't do what she thinks he might, she pushes it in herself, "Meet me back 'ome an' go from there?"It has to be a different mindset, to have two cars at your disposal, one for work only, and the other for her own use. Admittedly, if she didn't, she would find herself victim to getting a replacement car more often than she does (death is a messy job), but still...
A sideways glanmce at Tristan for his farewell, "'Night," she offers his way, as she offers the beer back to Decker, holding it loosely by the neck.
(diego)
a death glare for tristan. with all the force he can muster ruined only by the smile. "adiós"another glowstick from the same pocket as the first this one also snapped again that almost to bright light before he physically shoves it down the front of tristans shirt "there now yours can be as pretty as mine"
(decker)
"Yeah, okay." He feels around his jacket pockets for his keys. Tristan, James and Diego get a collective standard-issue nod up. Then he glances down at the beer offered, eyes briefly shaded, and takes it back for another (large) gulp before holding it back out, a little less than half-full. "You kin have the rest." Always stay less drunk. Either that, or he figures a pretty woman with police connections will get off lighter for having opened alcohol in her car than a 18-25 white male with a chip the size of Texas on his shoulder.It's a few steps back down the steps to the street, and then he heads down toward his truck, parked under a streetlight half a block away. Getting in, the engine roars to life, the headlights blink on, and then he's pulling into a U-turn headed back for the condo.
(james)
bag rustles as he walks back out, the several take out boxes left rustling around in the plastic
there's that pack-patented nod up to the Fenrir and Kin heading out
standing just behind Diego and Tristan, he nudges the Walker's shoulder
deep umber eyes looking down with a smile"Thanks."
(imogen)
She wasn't about to go driving with an open beer, whether she was more likely to get away with it, or not. She takes the offered bottle, and takes another full draining to the last quarter, before taking a few steps toward the open trash can, dropping it in.It's back down the street, now, crossing the street to her car. Decker's already on his way, and it's not long before she follows the same suit, the alarm of the mercedes disarming and the locks clicking open. She slides in, and slips the keys into the ignition, starting the engine. Headlights flick on, and then her turn signal, before she pulls out into traffic, heading off in a similar direction.
(tristan)
“HEY!” Sputtered as he’s physically assaulted with a glowstick (ohhhhhh waaaaaaaaaaarm) before he all but outright purrs in delight as he shifts that stick around till more comfortably resting against his belly. “Thank ya…” He finishes his meal and pushes the container aside, leaning back with a grin and patting full (and waaaaaarm) belly with a content grin. A glance up at James, smile remains, though brow cocks slightly, curious, but just says in way of thanks for the info on the location of Julio’s “Every bit as good as ya said..”(decker)
So they each make their own way. Everyone has their own favorite roads. Some like the shortest trajectory possible. Others like the ones with the fewest stoplights, or the ones that circle farthest from civilization so that for a moment they can look up and see the stars. And some just take whatever comes to mind easiest.Any which way, they end up in the parking lot at about the same time. She parks and he pulls to a stop outside her space, throwing the emergency brakes on and clipping the radio off on the return-stroke of his hand. The lights stay on and the engine stays on, one shining bright, one chuffing in a lower key than the smooth purr of the Benz. He isn't buckled in again, as usual, and he's got one wrist atop the wheel, the other in his lap, as he waits for her to get in.
When she does, he glances over at her briefly to make sure she buckles herself in. Then it's off, southbound, street to freeway.
(diego)
head leans slowly backwards until he can look up at those eyes of the one standing behind him "no problem"(imogen)
The benz slides into it's parking spot, and the engine cuts off, the lights die, and she steps out. The keys are pocketed and rounds her car to the truck idling perpendicular to her parking spot, pulling open the door, and stepping up into the truck by way of the runner boards. She does buckle up, as usual (either aware of her own impending mortality, or the memories of some recent car crash victim, autopsied and laid to pieces before her), drawing the belt over her frame and sliding it into the clasp with a muted click.Strands of hair are tucked behind her ears as she glances briefly at him, for a moment before glancing away and watching as the streets pass them by, eventually becoming the long freeway southbound to Atlantic City.
Her jacketed forearm rests on the curve of the door, against the car window's frame, and after a while her other hand lifts to unbutton her jacket, as the truck's heater begins to seep through, and it's just a little too warm to be wearing the jacket done up to her throat.
They have enough silences and quiets that they may as well have names or meanings for all of them. Some are easy to read, others are not so easy to read, their meanings opaque (either because he won't show it, or she won't see it, or some other variation of it all), but in this one, he might be able to almost hear the mulling within her mind, the gathering of thoughts to say something, perhaps. Or not to say something. Let it rest, let it lie This thought is solidified by a look at him, sidelong, and away again, punctuated by the slow intake of her breath, and then speech. "Rune tol' me 'bout th'whole dowry thing."
(james)
that easy grin remains in response to the curious look
but he doesn't say anything about it
Diego knows what he's thanking him for, so that's good enough"Would I steer you wrong where food is concerned?"
hands dig around for his zippo
leaning between them to retrieve his pack from the table
there's that trademark clack! when it snaps open
the fwp of flame sparked to life
then the long, slow inhale to get that cherry stoked nice and bright
lid snapping closed with flick of wrist"Another thing Rune mentioned when I woke up this morning." almost drawled on the drawn out exhale "Is that she found out there was more of her family around... that wasn't quite ready to meet her." a brow lifts, looking down at the two again "Should I keep playing innocent or let her know."
because he knows Diego doesn't want to be found
and so far it seems his pack thinks the Walker is kin
Tristan, above all, should know how hard it is for him to keep something from the Beta(tristan)
“Never thought you would” Grinned, easily enough, and the curious look was just that, nothing more nothing less and not knowing is perfectly fine with him. Hands dig around in pockets, lean form stretching to toss the disposable warmer into the trashcan, that glow against his belly warming him through and through.
Ohhhhh, waking up in the morning… how novel… and what he says then filters through. Christ on a fucking candlestick - guess he should have grabbed Diego before he left this afternoon but he was working and it hadn’t come up. He slides his hand into his pocket in the ever present search for his lighter and pack, lighting a cigarette before tucking it all away again, and letting Diego field that one.(decker)
It's late night. The freeway is open, shared by a few other insane denizens of the state who counted driving long distance among their Sunday night activities. He drives much the way he'd waited for her: the left hand wrapped around the top of the wheel, the right loose in his lap, or on the divider armrest. Silence suits him just fine: silence punctuated by the rush of distance passing, the huff of the heating system, the bump of lane dividers under the tires as he slides into the fast lane, the unsnapping of her jacket. This last draws his attention to her for a curious moment, his eyes flickering between her hand on her buttons to her face to her hand, and finally back to the road. He bumps the heater down a notch, and all the while he can almost hear her preoccupation, the steady run of thoughts through her head, unknown.He's about to turn to her and ask her what the hell she's thinking when she speaks first. And when she does he stiffens, minutely but perceptibly, his hand tightening on the wheel before it relaxes. Goddammit, Rune...
An exhale, nearly a sigh, and he pushes himself back against his seat for a moment, getting comfortable for what might be an uncomfortable discussion.
And the road keeps rushing by. And the road keeps rushing on.
He's got a straightaway up ahead, a stretch of freeway that follows the sea (there, just past that exit, is where he stopped to help her with a flat tire that fateful morning...) unwaveringly, where they could stand and watch the sunrise if they so chose. He doesn't watch the east, though. He watches her, and the way the few lights that lit the freeway slid over her skin and clothes, dipping and moving and finally fading behind them.
He looks, and he looks away. At long last, a prompt, "And?"
(deigo)
he was smiling still at the thanks, and then the new sets of words set in. what who which one of your two? that smile slips very quickly into that nuetral dolls face. he has lots of practice hiding behind that generic expressionless mask. "i guess its to late, they know now"(imogen)
And?The universal answer without giving an answer. She had done that, not too long ago, to force the weight of the conversation on him, and make him speak, because she had flatout refused to speak her mind. Sometimes it's safer that way for one, or the other (though he's inately selfish, and she can be that way, too, so it's more likely easier for him than it is for her, this time. And it was sure harder for him the last.). As he watches her, she watches him, a slow steady stare that meets his eyes unerring even as the alternating light and shadow sometimes makes his irises lost in pools of dark. He looks away, and still, he can feel her eyes on him for a beat, for more.
And?
Her lips move in a half smile that isn't so much a smile as a caustic grimace dressed up as pleasantry. She looks away, her attention turning toward the freeway before them, the lanes beside her. Little dashes painted on black road. "And I doubt you were going to tell me." It's a comment based on neutrality. Impossible to read.
Beat, but she's not expecting an answer to that, because perhaps she can understand why. There are things she doesn't tell him, either. Their relationship, if it can be called as such, may very well be held together on what is not said rather than what is. It certainly requires less emotional attachement than this, does silence.
"What the hell do they care about it?" she asks, and once again, there's little to be gleaned from it, except perhaps reading emotion into the curse.
(james)
that reaction causes him to sit back down in his chair
dark brow lifting as he looks at the little Walker"No. They don't." there's a hard, even glance to Tristan, then back at Diego... goddammit he just got the kid smiling, in public even, and now he's all behind the mask again "She's no idea who you are, or even why you're running - she doesn't even care that you are, figuring you have your reasons. We've all had our reasons for disappearing for awhile."
Rune disappeared
Tristan disappeared
Diego disappeared
James, too, disappeared
they've all got their own personal horror stories that caused such a violent withdrawal from the Nation
smoke coils out from his lungs, a gesture to flick ashes towards the tray
the Ahroun isn't exactly pleased"Why I brought it up is that if, for some reason, you do need her help, or want to meet her - you'll still be safe. Until then, she probably won't even give you another thought. I just didn't like having to skirt around the truth of knowing who that family member in question was."
(decker)
"Yer right," cutting in, and she can read the irritation from his tone, "I wasn't."More silence. More miles. Distances are foreshortened by speed and night. The dashes on the road are six feet long apiece, but rarely do they seem that. It's only when you wait by the roadside for the eighteen-wheelers to clatter and roar on by that you notice these things. Why this should occur to him escapes him.
One eye on the road, he leans across her and fumbles through the glove compartment, looking for a map, a tape, cigarettes, a joint, anything. Something to pass the time with. He finds a pack of gum, which is as good as anything, and strips a stick out onehanded, drags it out with his teeth.
He offers the gum to her and finally answers, "Fuck if I know." There's latent fury there - an amorphous, almost helpless kind. "Fuckin' assholes got a bone to pick with me 'r mine 'n I don't even know shit about it. But..."
There's another pause as he reaches behind him to adjust the tilt of the headrest. There's a safety in silence; what's not said can never be the wrong thing to say. There's a safety in distance. Don't get too close and things can't get more complicated than they already are. Don't get too close and he won't ever be in a position where he might try to (want to) hurt her someday.
His jaw works as he chews without tasting. Spearmint, doublemint. Cinnamon, fruit. His eyes skim the rearview mirror automatically, return to the road, and then there's a few more words. "Don't worry 'bout it. This don't concern you."
(diego)
he frowns slightly thinking "i dont want you to have to lie"conflicting interests. he watches you both. studying lost nursing that drink wishing he had a tequila "no... it ok you can tell her, i guess this means they all get to know"
(tristan)
Yeah - he knows.
He knows all too well - can’t keep anything from her and sooner or later he would have told her anyway. Momma Grace had a saying - damned if he can remember it just now, but seems he’s picked up more of her meddling mannerisms since he’s been away then he’d figured. However, he meets that hard even glare dead on, and every bit as even. Cigarette moves to his lips, deep inhale, and then back to tap in the ashtray again. The Ahroun isn’t pleased. And the kin? Not saying a damn word.(imogen)
She takes the gum from him, pulling it sharply from his fingers, taking a stick and shoves the package back into the glove compartment, pushing it shut with a muted click. She unwraps the stick as he speaks, and is half way to popping it into her mouth when he finishes speaking. "Right." Sarcasm is fairly safe, too, though it's a more dangerous weapon for her to play with.Particularly when he's driving a goddamned truck.
"It just has to do with you, the Fianna, and who is claiming whom. No, it doesn't concern me at all. That is such--" and the consideration (he's driving a car, he is a Garou, she is a kinfolk, and he could kill her) that would occur to most about... two minutes ago, occurs to her now, and she cuts off the phrase sharply, placing the stick of gum in her mouth instead, and she barely tastes the stick as she works it between her teeth either, her eyes leaving him and returning to the road.
(james)
"I didn't lie, I just changed the subject before she would think to ask if I knew anything about it. It was just mentioned in a rundown of what I slept through last night."inhale, exhale, reaching over to squish the filter into the tray and kill the cherry
he hasn't kept anything from her so far, but he also keeps his fucking promises"Are you sure? Even if I tell her, it doesn't mean she's going to tell the others. But I won't tell her if you don't want me to."
(decker)
Long before she cuts off, he's cutting her off. "That's right, this don't concern you at all." Heatedly, he shifts in his seat, sitting up, clamping both hands on the wheel while he spits words at the windshield. "I remember damn well what the fuck happened last time ya thought you'd go traipsin' yer ass out to settle this shit yerself. This the fuckin' exit?" - pointing at the sign flying overhead.Then he continues without missing a beat, "This is bullshit, they know it's bullshit, Noah knows it's bullshit. You just stay outta it 'n I'll settle it."
(diego)
he hates this, at the moment all he wants to do is crawl under the table and hide or stalk away. prehaps both. refuses to look at Tristan you and your medling i am sure your behind this somehow. and to think i gave you a glowstick. "tell her, tell them all, i dont care anymore" angry and defeted in the same breath should of just moved when he had the chance. he folds arms across the table resting head upon it.(Imogen)
And as soon as he's speaking again, she's looking at him, her words clipping off the edge of his, barely letting him get the sentences out. "Yes, it's the fuckin' exit," she retorts with just as much heat as their actual conversation. Poor exit never did anyone harm, and it's already been referred to as 'fuckin' in the space of five seconds. And they sound like they mean it, too."I did not go 'traipsin'' to 'settle' anything. Christ, you were the one who told him to talk with me." Voice controls, abruptly, as she looks away, as if the lack of visual connection made it easier somehow.
"Of course it's bullshit," she says to the window, her leaving the frame to brush across her face and tender back hair from her eyes, "Christ, we didn't even have that in Britain."
(tristan)
He wasn’t doubting the kept promises, he wasn’t doubting a damn thing, and there are reasons behind everything he does as well. But he simply keeps smoking that cigarette, and listening. Then there’s the last. And eyes close - briefly then open again. Smoke stamped out and he bends to grab his violin case (…growlingsnappingaffection…) and he pauses, and since he’s so close and all being the instrument case is under Diego’s seat he just lays his forehead against shoulder and murmurs. “’splain later.” Which was something he’da done anyway, until this has forced his hand quite a bit sooner then he’d planned - should have at least been saved for the afterglow conversation. Somehow in his figuring - he’d forgotten that Rune wouldn’t keep anything from James either. Goddamn Warriors. No patience whatsoever. But he? Had promises to keep too. Just. Now it will be a lot sooner.(decker)
"Well, I made a fuckin' mistake," he snaps, bulldozing right over the abrupt control in her voice while he takes the fuckin' exit to the fuckin' offramp, and down to the fuckin' street. "I made a fuckin' mistake, and--"(and he could've killed her)
"--it ain't gonna happen again." Still seething, he stops at a red light and drums his fingers on the wheel, on the gearshift until she speaks again, and he looks at her - sharply but puzzlingly, his grey eyes giving away little in the red bathe of the traffic signal.
And he looks away again. "Don't worry 'bout it," repeated. "Deal with it myself."
(imogen)
She stares at him, the red glow bathing his skin, the fuzz of his short cropped hair, altering, however slightly the colour of his eyes. The stop light is a wash of warmth against her pale skin, and causes the normal bright vibrancy of her hair to be almost -almost- lost in the redwash.He looks away, and she looks away, a breath that hinges on a mirthless chuckle escaping from her lips, "It's much easier to say 'don't worry about it' when you're the one wandering off to 'deal with it'," as all she says, as the fine fingers of her hand press lightly against her temple. There's something of her voice that speaks of impotent frustration, for all the near neutrality of it.
Property. The core of it all was property and who belonged to whom, and who had paid the proper dues. Who was claimed (Are you mine?) and who had the most right to her pure blood, her fine breeding. Or, at least it was when you looked at it from a kinfolk's perspective. Dowry was buying someone. Or selling them.
But it didn't concern her. He'd deal with it himself.
(james)
the moon's not even full yet
it's only been slowly growing
it's only halfway there and already he's bristling"Yes you do. Which is why I'm not telling her."
which is why he's not telling his ma..... Beta... something
there's an unchecked glare that begins, the words were half snapped
but sure enough he reins it in
now isn't the time to point fingers or place accusations
(swallow it down, Jamey-boy, just choke it back down)
reaching to pluck the sack from the table
plastic rattling it's protest to the abuse
long, lean Gnawer slowly standing"Told you I'd keep you safe, Diego."
much softer now
but he's got dinner to take home to his pack
so that's what he turns and does
offhand wave, even if they're both not looking at him"Night."
(diego)
he looks up before he can get to far those whispered words not in his ear but in his mind =thankyou James, i trust you will. You can tell her if you want= soft exhale head tilts slightly to look at the face pressed to his shoulder. "you i think should explain now"(decker)
She says one thing, but her tone speaks for itself, and damned if he's not more attuned to the underlying timbre and rhythms of her voice than he is to words - those abstract things he never could wield quite right. And he leans back, hissing a breath out, staring at the baleful red of the stoplight while he went over things in his own head."Dammit, Imogen."
She's frustrated? So's he. He turns his head to look at her, hand still on the wheel, foot still on the brake. "Let's just pertend. Just fer one minute. That you went to 'deal with this' yerself. The hell you gonna do? Huh?" His hand lifts from the wheel and falls again, striking it with a dull thud. Bluntly, "They want me. To pay him. So I kin fuck you. Hell makes you think they's gonna give two shits what you think?"
(tristan)
Posted by james at February 09, 2003 12:00 AM
“Not here.” He shakes his head, and grabs violin case, standing, and looking over at the retreating form of pissed off Gnawer.. why is it every… (stop that train of thought right. There. Pretty boy). He hefts the violin case and looks back at Diego. “If you’re gonna hurt me - do it at home where crawling to my couch is a much shorter distance. Common..” Dark eyes are somewhat unreadable, somewhat conflicting in the emotion, but the hand that’s held out for Diego’s warm, and hopeful. He did have his reasons. But it’s up to Diego to take that hand and find out if he wants to know - either way.. guess he’ll leave the protecting for Gaia’s chosen for now on. (Forgot the hell it is to care again, didn’t you? Much easier when they’re all nameless fucks in the back of some car, in the darkness of some alley.)
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