March 22, 2003.03.22.03. - bone gnawer + benz = ? [imogen-lucca][noje]
(imogen)
After days upon days of rain, it has finally stopped, the clouds not yet breaking across the sky, shattering only in bare spots where the stars manage to peek through, a small edge of the waning moon, the rest obscured by cloud cover. It's been raining for days, and yesterday a thunderstorm had exploded, lightning searing the sky. Rain soaked the streets and anyone brave enough to step out into it.And now it was over, though the air still smells of rain, moist and damp, earthen smells of wet earth, grass soaking up the rain, still brown from the long winter. She sits in one of the chairs on her balcony, legs tucked beneath her, slender frame curled into the wooden supports, a suede jacket for warmth, fallen open over her dark blue turtleneck. It's almost fifty degrees and maybe in a few weeks the weather will seem almost human, as opposed to this grey dreariness that spring brings.
A cigarette burns, held between her fingers, wrist perched on the armrest, the red glow reflecting against pale skin, cancer stick held between her forefinger and middle finger, careless and half forgotten. The other hand drags through her hair, the long dark red strands sliding through slender fingers, her eyes set on some vague point, undefined and unnecessary. because she isn't really noticing so much as giving her eyes somewhere to rest as her thoughts take her attention away.
(james)
"Long day?"her thoughts took her attention away
so she didn't hear the door sliding quietly open
so she didn't hear the Gnawer stepping softly onto the balcony
she may not even have felt the pre-emptive wash of Rage
because even if the moon is only beginning it's waning diet in the sky
the bluntling!, being home, and the rain seems to have cleansed his natural angst awaydreads hang in sopping disarray about his head and shoulders
fresh out of the shower, squeaky clean, and needing a cig
that's what drew him out to face the just as freshly scrubbed world
but it's the distant pondering of the Kin that drew his attention
black Zippo CLACKS open
the orange flare warming his features
creating some reflectant fire deep in umber eyes
making that easy grin seem even more friendly
even teeth clench into the bespeckled filter
one long inhale before the lighter's snapped closed
breath fogging the air thickening with the exhaled smoke(imogen)
Her attention jerks from... whatever it is. Watermarks on the balustrade, a dent in the ground. The ashtray left at the leg of her chair. His words draw her abruptly back to the humidity-laden night air, her head turning, eyes lifting to cross the distance of heights and space to look at the Gnawer.She doesn't particularly answer the question, not quite directly, a soft sound in her throat, musing, perhaps grudging agreement. A smirk touches her mouth, caustic and self-deprecating, as her cigarette hand shifts, eyes sliding from the guttermutt's form, to the cigarette with it's pillar of ash. Her centre of weight shifts, leaning forward to tap the cigarette downward toward the ashtray, a spill of flakes like so much snow.
As the cigarette returns to her mouth, her head turns again to look at him, her hand tucking back strands past her shoulders, her chin tilting in a half gesture as she inhales smoke into her lungs, a slow drag. Her words are mixed with smoke as she speaks, "You know th'explosion a' th'NorthWest Labs?" an eyebrow arching to mark her question.
(james)
the response is a soft sound in her throat
sometimes he wonders....
if he didn't have the Garou aspect to his normal senses
would he even hear half the answers she gives him
he didn't expect much more than the wordless acknowledgement
knowing the Kin's affinity for normal salutations and allshe begins the collection of movements to create her own snow
the cancerous ash falling toxic into the tray
the growing gray and white dunes remniscent of the snowcover just bare weeks past
he begins the collection of movements to lean/sit against the ballustrade
tucked back by the wall so it's nominally dry
plus it gives someplace for the muscle lining the back of his shoulder to rest
one tank boot braced against the tile, the other's heel tapping against protective barrier"Vaguely heard about it through the barking chain.... was taking care of some family stuff up in Albany when it happened."
most wouldn't notice his native accent here
Yank precision and drag through certain words so much like the Jersey speech
but compared to her Cornish lilt, it's obvious where he was born and raised
what he doesn't ask, is why she brought it up
given their past experiences together
she wouldn't bring it up without a reason
so he waits for her to continue through the next lazy drag(imogen)
Her weight shifts as he speaks, and looks at her, waiting for her explanation, turning in the chair, shifting so her back is against one arm rest, one leg sliding down to rest flat againt the balcony floor, while the other perches on the edge of the seat where the armrest opposite to the one at her back support meats the seat of the chair. Bracing her elbow against her thigh, the cigarette near her mouth, as she speaks, after a moment."One o' th'duties o' the medical examiner's office is identification durin' major disastors like that. I 'ave the good fortune o' having experience in that matter. So, I was assigned." A faint downturning of her lips, barely visible and hardly there, particularly as she dispells it with a smirk, the quirk of her lips half hidden as she takes another drag of the cigarette, inhaling deeply on the filter, cancerous fumes filling her lungs.
Their accents are such contrasts. Her's is a burr, a clipped sound, pronounciation skewed. Where he would surely pronounce a consonant she throws it away, and where he would truncate a word, she pronounces it, syllable for syllable. But like how, if he did not know from where she came, he would not be able to pinpoint her accent, she cannot pinpoint his. They're all American, to her. All yankee, from the southern drawl of the Fenrir Modi, to James's own New York slang.
"Anyway, there's three survivors, and Decker wants me t'go talk wit'em find out what I can." A tilt of her head toward him as she exhales the last dredges of smoke from her mouth, before speaking again, "And I wanted to see if y'had any insights on what I should ask o' em."
The momentary pause before the next might be telling, "An' see if you wanted to tag along, make sure I don't forever traumatize someone or trip o'er somethin' I shouldn't." The smirk is caustic once more, and the pause, as mentioned might be telling. Chances are, this part was not her idea. Chances are, she would never admit to it.
(james)
Decker wants her to go talk and find out what she can
she suddenly wants his input on the situation.... and to tag along
chances are - he's figured out the unsaid portion of the conversation
(nice feeling, to have a packmate trust you to this extent)
on the next exhale, his lips curl into a rather amused smile
the plume of smoke offered the night quickens as breath heaves in chuckle
he doesn't mention that it seems they were chosen to do the gruntwork
..... again.at least, this time, they'll be on a mission, and not trapped in a motel room
that should be some degree of improvement"Suuuure I'll tag along." just what are you getting yourself into, Jamey-boy? "Though I wouldn't know what to ask them, off the top of my head, I'll chew on it a bit."
the filtered Camel is flicked in slow arch towards the coffeecan turned ashtray on his own balcony
palms meet and rub together in mock anticipation
(oh goodie)
those deep umber eyes turning back towards the Kinfolk"When do we leave?"
(imogen)
One has to wonder how on earth the kinfolk and gnawer end up doing the oddest of things, grunt work is a good way to put it. Sitting in a hotel room, waiting for the wandering heroes to get back. Her job was to stay alive, and his way to keep her that way. A morgue over thanksgiving weekend, the smell of old decay in their noses. And now, hunting down three survivors to play question and answers."I've got did they see anythin', what they did at the labs, which is not an answer I can get. I'll ask Rune, too." All the words said casually, emotionless as her arm uncoils and drops down to ash the cigarette in the tray.
"And whenever I c'n get the time off work. Hopefully, soon, though. I'd rather catch them at th'hospital than go to th' 'omes."
A smirk touches her mouth, as she resets the cigarette in her mouth, "This's goin' t'be 'ard enough as it is."
(james)
all in all, he's not really complaining about the situations they simply get thrown into
while he, of course, would rather avoid such situations
(the scent of a decaying child lingers for days)
at least she will be doing something that could be considered interesting
at least he is not having to babysit a blind and raving Stargazer
find that gleaming lining, Jamesone hand, and then one finger, raise
(hold that thought)
lean form disappears back through the sliding doors of whence he came
not even two minutes later, he's back on the balcony again
two bottles grasped by neck in that very pausing handsince they're not racing towards the car to play good cop bad cop
he shifts his weight off the railing
the empty hand, strong and firm, curves over the sculpted stucco
one boot hikes up to find purchase
and the Gnawer crosses the great divide between the land of the Kin and the land of the Garou
or, in laymen's terms: their balconies
the six foot abyss is a far easier feat for him to accomplish than she
given the length of stride one has when taller by nearly a foot
dreads weighted by the recent shower (is that.... Rune's.... shampoo?) sway only a little as he flops into the empty chair
one bottle hissing it's complaint to being opened
but he's handing it over to the firey kin
then settling down to his first beer of the night"It'd seem more kosher to do it sooner" he has caught on to this whole covert thang "Decker mention any theories on why it was done?"
(imogen)
She leans forward to pluck the beer from his outreached hand, the other hand taking the cigarette from her mouth again with a muttered, "ta," as she drops the cigarette end over end, the ember twisting as the cancer stick tumbles down to hit the ashtray, the burning orange glow shattering and scattering to dull and die in the tray.Her head shakes as she raises the bottle to her lips, pausing scant inches away from her mouth, "He didn't mention," interrupting herself for a swallow of cold liquid, picking up the sentence as she brings the bottle down, resting the butt of coloured glass against her knee. "The current story goin' 'round is that it was a trucker, smoking in a restricted area. They dealt with certain volitile substances."
A lift of her shoulder as her free hand gestures slightly for him to sit, if he wants to, "S'just so odd that ... well." Another smirk, she throws them out easily, sometimes, caustic and meaningless because really they're just motions. "Considering the lab, I suppose one can never be too careful, can one?"
(james)
by the time she vaguely gestures
he's already made himself comfortable in the empty chair
going so far as to slouch down, stretch out, and kick his feet up on the railing
ankles neatly crossed at the end of long legs
his bottle is lifted in toast punctuated by another soft bought of laughter"You'd think..... in a place full of chemicals like what the lab dealt with.... the entire area would be non-smoking."
somehow, that current story just doesn't jive
not in his worldbeing in love wi.....
..... being in a pack with Rune, he's used to smirks
caustic and meaningless and downright familiar
it's not that he doesn't notice the expressions
it's that he takes them all in stride"What I wonder..." taking his turn to interrupt himself by digging in cargo pocket for pack and lighting up another Camel, the little carton and Zippo offered absently to the Kin out of habit as well as manners "... is that we knew there were more in that pack than we offed. So." another gesture, stabbing at the night sky with the glowing cherry "May be someone coming back to cover tracks.... finally. Though I don't know why they'd wait five months.... much less how we'd prove it."
(imogen)
"It was all non-smoking." She explains, "S'even told to everyone who enters th'area, visitors and the like." She shakes her head at the offered cigarette, her head indicating the pack perched on the arm rest over her shoulder.Only ony addiction at a time tonight, it would seem. "And unfortunately, my information on it is ... hazy at best. It's not as if I could go poking around and ask th'fire inspector if he suspected arson or not. Two witnesses, who I suppose I will attempt to track down, said they saw a trucker smoking where no one should. And it appears to be the ..." a pause, as she takes a swallow of beer, "... accepted story."
The corner of her mouth lifts, "As for the rest, I leave the speculation to you. I 'aven't got a fuckin' clue."
(lucca)
Lucca made his way towards where he had met the glasswalker and her pack. His duster over something that he kept bundled up with it. His backpack not on his back but hanging on his side. Hurting as he is he was wondering if they'd spot him first or if he had to find them.he reached back and pulled his shirt off his back. Marked with blood like it was. He made his way towards the apartment. That being basically where they'd noticed him before.
(james)
at the decline
he tucks the pack back and Zippo into the pocket on his thigh
his lower lip wiggles a bit
sucked in and nibbled in thought
released from the assault only for another swallow or three from the beer"I wouldn't know how to go about it even if we didn't have the restrictions on what we'll be able to ask and get away with."
the Gnawer is honest, if anything
returning to a breif brow furrowing of thought"Most I could do sidestep and powwow with the banes that'll cling to the aftershocks like leeches, see what they'd spill, if anything."
now, since she has been sipping her beer without backlash
that is not a bitter beer face the Ahroun is wearing
even if that last part was mumbled mostly to himself
it's a rather distasteful thought, if he's ever had one
moving right along"Aw common Imogen" chuckled wryly in a sidelong glance "You know with our luck it's another pack moving in, all rank 12 uberSpirals with bane klaives for talons and belching thunderstorms with green lightning in their eyes. It would never be as simple as someone tidying up before running back to whatever hole they've been in for five months."
yes, hello, my name is James, I'm the guy with the Apocalypse waiting on my doorstep
because the sarcasm in that last statement rivals what she can produce in her own
for Gaia's sake.... where was that vacation all employees deserve??
mellow as he seemed, guess the trip back home wasn't said vacation
(waning.... the moon is still more full than not....)
dark eyes slashing across the lawn spread before them
then his chin lifts a bit, nodding towards the figure just outside the ring of condo's porchlight
(imogen)
It must be a little bit of a double take for Lucca to notice them, because they're actually on the wrong balcony, at least from his perspective. Next door, instead, the slender kinfolk, who may be memorable if only for the song of blood that runs through her veins, the symphony of pure breed, and perhaps for her silence. And then the other, one of the pack, sitting opposite her, lounged in a chair, cigarette between his fingers. Both have beers.A shake of her head, "I'll do m'best to get out what I can, if I can. S'just. High profile, and classified which makes it worse. And it's not exactly if I'm in the need to know category. But I need to know what's most important." What to look for. What to ask. Where to go.
His wry chuckle is mirrored by a smirk of her own as she leans forward, draping one arm across her leg and resting the bottle back on her knee, "We can..."
Whatever her sentence was is truncated and halted as her head turns toward James's indication, and Lucca's approach. An eyebrow lifts, and she takes a long swallow of the beer.
(lucca)
He did notice them. But only when he was about to approach the wrong apartment. Then he stopped Looking for a way up to the two instead of the way he was going.(imogen)
That would be the stairs. The condos are seperated and are not cojoined, so he will need to pass from one path to the next, but sure as there are stairs for one, there are stairs for the other.(lucca)
He spots the stairs and heads towards them. To make his way up to the two he'd seen on the other Balcony.(james)
he can't help the bit of a chuckle at the doubletake
just moseying on with the flow
seems they'll finish up their conversation later
knees bend, and boots are pulled off railing and settled on the tiles
weight shifts forward to settle elbows on knees
chin jerks up in what is the Eagle Pack's form of hello"Evenin' Lucca.... what can I do ya for?"
(lucca)
"Oh. I got something I didn't want left Around. thought you might know a good way to get rid of it."(imogen)
Her eyebrow arches slightly, as Lucca speaks, twisting in her seat, sitting rather unconventially sideways in the wooden chair, back against one arm rest, one leg perched on the seat. She turns, hair sliding forward, dark firekissed strands sliding over her shoulder to obscure the pale carved lines of her face as she drops the beer bottle beside the ashtray. On the upward motion, she reaches behind her, picking up the package of camels, and begins to pull one out as she resettles, her other hand running through her mane of hair, all the vibrant colours of red, pushing it away from her face.Intent on pulling out of the cigarette, and now, the lighting up, she does not appear to be all that interested in the goings on before her. The cigarette slides between her slips, and a hand digs into her suede jacket, coming up with a bronze zippo.
Click.
Flame gives birth to her cigarette, a dull orange ember as she inhales.
Clack.
The zippo lid shuts closed and she repockets it.Smoke exhales slowly from her mouth around the filter, as she rests one arm on her bent knee, fingers dangling loose downward.
(james)
there's..... a bit of a nod
the hand holding the beer bottle and the hand holding the Camel spread slightly apart
even if Lucca can't see it, exactly, from where he's below them
there's that general expression of..... and?
then when the Strider gets closer
there's that distinctive scent of blood
which leads to a rather canid head tilt of curiosity"The hell ripped into you?"
(lucca)
He makes it a point of climbing the steps to them before speaking again. And he's slow at doing it. To the point that they can realize he'd let his backpack slip off his shoulder and let it rest on the bottom step when he came up to them. The duster wrapped around something under his other arm he drops it and motions for james to take a look at the bundle of glyphed tape.(imogen)
Her attention flicks toward Lucca as he drops his backpack and gestures for James to come take a look at... whatever it may be. A frown crosses her brow, briefly, before she turns her attention back toward her cigarette, taking a slow drag as her other hand lightly brushes some bit of lint from her jean clad thigh.
(james)
hands full, he... uh.... looks at the bundle
then looks at his beer
that's settled onto the tiles with a nearly empty hollow thunk
the Camel placed between his lips
deep umber eyes squinting a bit past the smoke
and he's picking up the bundle of glyphed tape
brow..... lifting a bit when he unsticks some of it to stretch out and read
putting together the markings (can ya feel the power a' tha fetish, boah?) and the way Lucca gingerly moves"How'd you piss off a Gnawer enough to get whomped like that?"
idly tucking the tape back into it's ball and glancing back at the Strider
(lucca)
He rests with his butt against the rail. unconciously aware to keep things from pressing on his back. "Wandered onto their territory without knowing it. One of them started bugging me with lots of questions. I got a little upset. His ahroun friend came over and basically stuck me between them and on the defensive from the start. I threatened to throw the one that was bugging me over the rail if he didn't stop. The ahroun threatened to throw me over And tried to make me do introductions in the street. I jumped over and waited for them to come after me or not. Prepared to fight if necessary as well. They came after me. This time the one that had been bugging me got behind me. I spoke to the Ahroun and introduced myself. She told me who she was. Her pack mate trash talks to much. She trash talked to. I was tired of them and leaving. The Ahroun threatened to chase me down and cut me to pieces. I'd had enough and drew my knife. They attacked. I worked over the Ahroun pretty good but the damned annoying one Got me in the back. Then the Ahroun went Furry. I went furry in response. Was moving to dodge their blows and going to meet the annoying one with blade in my War Formed hand and he got a lucky shot to my back with his claws. Knocked me out with the blow. Woke up with that stuff binding me to the underside of the railing on the boardwalk. Ripped myself free. Ripped that off. Drug myself to an alley to enter the umbra long enough to heal. and have basically been laying low most of the day. Remembered you guys and thought you might know a way to get rid of this stuff. Do the honorable thing instead of leaving these guys little calling card out in the open for everybody and maybe start a war." He spits it all out in a rush to get it out. And feeling a bit like he was going to faint from the exertion when he was done.(imogen)
As he begins his story, the fine-featured woman's attention flickers toward him, dark blue eyes settling on him rather disturbingly. Mostly for the fact that she has no hum of rage and no crackle of Gaia's fury. Which, combined with the cultivated song of her blood, would likely make her kin. As a rule, kinfolk and humans cannot look at Garou in the direct manner she is. In the eyes. It's often taken as a challenge in his sort of world, and humans and kinfolk alike shy away from such contacts. The entrancing redhead does it, seemingly without thought.Her cigarette still burns between her lips, the ember sparking brighter as she inhales again. The smell of cigarette smoke on this porch is prevalent. The woman is smoking, and this is likely not her first, considering the ashtray at the foot of her chair, with a butt and ashes already coating the receptacle. James smokes, too. Alcohol adds it's own scent, buried beneath the smell of dampness, because the rain over the last few days has coated everything with it's particular odour.
One hand reaches up, pulling the cigarette from her mouth, hand dropping down to tap the fag in the direction of the ashtray, ashing it.
(james)
halfway through the avalanche explanation, the Gnawer stretches to stand
since both hands are full with the tape, one boot hooks around the leg of his recently vacated chair
sliiiiiiding it across the tile towards the somewhat paling Strider
(sitcherself down before you fall back down the stairs)
other than wood sliding over terra cotta - he's silently listening"Well.... some folks are touchy about their territory." he's known packs that kill for less "Where'd this happen?"
just so Eagle's are aware of such territories that apparently aren't clearly marked
and since they claim most of Northern Jersey as their own
would be nice to know if another pack's encroaching on such territory
there's a bit of an apologetic glance to the purebreed
not exactly sure if she minds Lucca parking it for a bit
but better he rest before moving on than passing out cold on her balcony
pack crashing on her couch is one thing, Decker may not approve of a strange Garou
and he's not about to take any part in any blame the Modi could construct on the situation(lucca)
"Along the Boardwalk. Where's the Strider Territory? From what i gather from what I can piece together. Their south of theirs. Though I didn't see any Strider signs or anything when I was there."(imogen)
An apologetic glance her way, and she lifts her shoulders in a shrug, in that sort of 'what can you do' manner, the faintest twitch of her mouth, downward rather than upward. The cigarette is dropped to the ashtray, carefully, positioning it against the rim of the tray, and her hand moves over slightly to pick up the beer bottle by the neck, lifting it to drink deeply of the half finished goods.
(james)
Boardwalk.
good.
that means Atlantic City
that means waaaay out of Eagle's place.
no turf wars for them
though... he is a bit curious as to why the wounded Strider would travel 140 miles to find them
rather than stay in the area and search out the locals
but to each their own"Think the ones you're looking for are on the upper Boardwalk..... Bodville or something. Last time I was in AC was long before they supposedly set up shop, so I couldn't tell you where to look."
that passing expression from Imogen gets a twitch of a smile in return
business is business, they both know it just as well(lucca)
Needless to say his wounds probably weren't going to heal over today excursions. But he went where he knew there were Garou for sure. Not for searching. He felt the Tape needed taken care of first.(imogen)
"S'in Bodville." She clarifies, speaking up now, even those few words a beacon that she is not from this country at all, but perhaps somewhere in Britain, or maybe even Australia in the outside. Her accent is smooth and rolling, burred along the edges, perfectly matched to her voice, which is the colour of well-aged ale.Speaking of ale... she takes another swallow of the beer, her eyes scratching across Lucca as he speaks again, flicking up and down as he speaks, an eyebrow arching before her attention shifts away, as she puts the bottle back down by her chair, with a hollow sound of glass against cement.
(james)
there's another low, soft sound
that's laughter in the lean Gnawer
seems he's been in that same predicament a time or two"I'd offer to let our Theurge take a look at you... but he's off on another one of his spirit journeys."
meaning stoned out of his mind
but nobody needs to know that
he only had periphreal contact with the bluntling!
and he knows Livingston's been in proverbial smokelodge with the spirit for two days now
no telling when the Walker will be returning to this time zone, much less planet"I'll call you a cab to getcha to the Barrens, if you want, coupla healers out that way."
the Strider gave him a shiney new fetish to try to understand
it's the least James can do(lucca)
"If you can tell me where to find them...i think I can manage it..."(imogen)
Another glance, an arch of a coppery eyebrow, as her hand trails away from the bottle to retrieve her cigarette, nearly finished now, and resetting it between her lips. Her piece said, she doesn't appear to be inclined to add anything more to the conversation.(james)
dreads creep over his shoulders as the Ahroun nods
fair enough"Bodville..... north Boardwalk then, clear of the PMSing Gnawers" he hoists the roll of tape a bit "And I'll make sure to tuck this somewhere it won't become an issue."
(okay, make that directions to Batsto for the healers, it's late for Wolf)
(lucca)
"Might call in a favor from the cranky gnawers for taking care of their left around garbage. They say their Territory was clearly marked but I don't know if it was. I was looking at the ocean. Not the gang bangers signs in the alley ways out of plain sight." He looks around. "How are the cops If I actually found somebody smart enough to hotwire a car around here?"(imogen)
"I don't know about the cops," and lo and behold she speaks again, straightening to sit up from her half recline, drawing her leg back up, and tilting the angle of the other, to sit half cross legged, sideways in the chair, "But I'll be rather unamused if you go hotwiring my neighbour's cars..."The words are cooly uttered and without inflection beyond the curl of her accent in her songstress tones. She speaks almost reluctantly, as one hand drags through her hair, the other resting against her knee.
(james)
"The cops are pissy around here." this neighborhood is not cheap, not to mention those are his neighbors, too, and so far they've been quite tolerable of the Garou pack living unbeknownst next door "I can spring the cab, or drive you myself."(lucca)
"I was just asking. Doubt I'd do it. I'm probably bleeding to much. And that's why I don't want a cab. With my luck it's probably be some bleeding heart new cab driver that will take me to the hospital.(imogen)
She snorts faintly, untucking her leg again, perhaps restless in all her movements. But no, her hand digs into the pocket of her jeans, digging out a set of car keys, her index finger hooked through the key ring, and her attention flickers toward James. Silent offer, reluctant again, recalcitrant.(james)
"Well, you're stuck with a bleeding heart Garou who's gonna take you where you need to go. Common."something about the Ahroun's tones aren't giving room for argument
(because he? is definitely not a bleeding heart, just your average Hood)
the way Imogen offered the keys probably helped secure that decision
because he's plucked them from the dangle upon her finger
tucked them into a pocket of the tattered BDUs
then he's flicked the embered smoke out off the balcony
beer picked up and slugged back to finish
(probably not instilling any more faith the Kin would have in his driving abilities, but one beer will not get him a DUI, no matter how low his tolerance for hard liquor is)"And I promise to return the car before curfew with a full tank of gas, mother."
winked in tease at the firey purebreed
then he's climbing over the six foot airspace between the balconies
heading inside his own condo to put the ball of tape away and grab his coat((and I really need to get going, so whenever y'all are finished playing just say James came back out and drove Lucca wherever he needs to go?))
(lucca)
Lucca doesn't seem to mind the departure. He merely picks up his duster. Moves down the steps and grabs his backpack and waits for James to come down.(imogen)
"I don't give a damn about the gas, just don't fucking crash it, y'hear?" Giving him a narrowed eye glance, perhaps already regretting the offer of the mercedes keys. It's a sweet damned drive.James'll get a kick out of driving it. James departs into the nearby condo, and the slender woman unfolds from the chair, getting to her feet, something hissed under her breath, and without a glance at her guest, walks to her own door, and walks inside. James'll be back out in only moments to get him on his way.
Posted by james at March 22, 2003 12:00 AM
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