April 23, 2003
.04.23.03. - granamismo [eva-dire-luc]

[noje]

(eva)
True to his word, Luc was cool about taking her out to join him in this little fight club obsession today. Whether he spoke with the others via whatever little totem phone has ceased to be a real problem, as she’s spent a good three hours pounding and getting pounded and generally getting shit out of her system. He ain’t done, so put her ass in a cab and sent her home with his keys to clean up. Fucking Garou with their damn insta-healing bullshit.
Footsteps on the walk, footsteps on the stairs, footsteps pause by the door, to unlock and push the door open, moving inside and kicking it closed behind her. She shrugs outa her jacket with a wince and after grabbing smokes and lighter from the pocket, yes she even hangs it up. Standard fair from toes to head.. Shitkickers, jeans, studded belt, tank top, dog collar, studded wrist cuffs, piercings, the multicolored mass of braids pulled back with a black bandanna tonight, and brand new – under the makeup and smudged lipstick, we’ve a black eye and split lip. Zigged when she shoulda zagged.
Straight to the kitchen, smokes and lighter tossed on the breakfast bar, and she starts putting together an icepack to pull the swelling down.


(james)
"There's fresh Indian in the fridge."

Imogen was at work
Decker was back
James? was off couch duty
at least for the next few hours

which is probably the reason he's not particularly sitting on the leather furniture in the condo, rather, leaning up agaisnt the front of it, legs stretched out across the floorspace (cause the brand spanking NEW coffeetable has been pushed off to the side for safe keeping), ankles crossed, beer next to his hip, PS2 controller in his hands and a goddamned joint hanging out of his mouth - it may not be the full moon but you keep guard over a Modi's mate and see if you're a little stressed out by morning

deep umber eyes cast themselves towards the kitchen
just taking stock of what happened to the kin during Luc's little fight club reinactment
Grand Turismo 3 will have to do it for him, it seems

(eva)
Gaze snaps over toward the sound of the game, and the Gnawer sitting there, before there’s a slight nod and she turns back to the fridge, grabbing a random box, a beer, a fork, taking the whole kit and caboodle into the other room.
Lean form falls into the leather chair with a wince, shifting until pressure is taking off of her bruised rib. One hand, nails miraculously not broken, lifts the baggy fulla ice wrapped in dish towel to her face, the other hand opens the box and digs in with the fork chewing rather tenderly. Damn bastard wasn’t gentle, that’s for sure.
She glances at the game on screen through the eye that isn’t slowly swelling, and jerks chin toward it. “S’that?” can kick ass on grand theft auto three, as well as counterstrike, but hasn’t plugged this one in yet.

(dire)
There is a russel from the hall closet and the door slowly opens. Dire rolls out. Stands. Streches. Pops his neck and smacks his lips as he wakes. Closing the door he pads though the living room to the bathroom. The door shuts gently. Shower starts.

(james)
"Grand Turismo."

though it sounds more like granamismo with the joint clenched between teeth
dreads spill over his shoulder as head tilts, keeping the smoke out of his eyes
long thick vines of still damp hair fall and cling over skin just beginning to regain what will become summer's tan
not too long out of the shower, he didn't bother with more than pants
Eagle's brand on his chest, the ashen scars over his back
docile as he seems playing the video game, there's no question the man's at war
taking this little slice of time for what it is and enjoying the downtime for however long it lasts
rather expertly navigating the green sportscar through some curves on some digital track in the forests of Germany

"Luc still out playing?"

speaking of Germans....
there's a flicker of attention as the Skald comes out of the closet
but he doesn't say a word

(eva)
There’s a glance toward the closet as it opens… ok, truthfully more a turn of entire head in order to glance, gaze blocked by the towel-wrapped ice held over one eye and cheekbone, another bite of Indian taken, chased with a few swallows of beer as she watches the action onscreen.
Nod, slight, and a chuckle. “The boys were getting pissed off about being beat by a girl – left so they could regain their testosterone levels.” Smirked, and she even holds back the wince for the duration. Really should see the other guys. Took’em three fights to fond someone who could touch her, and she looks a damn sight better then he did when she left. They were using smelling salts to bring him too when she got into the cab and headed home. She rotates her jaw, slightly, before replacing the towel against cheekbone and eye, working her way through the carton resting between her thighs. “e’ll be home later.”

(dire)
Shower shuts off and Skald comes out a moment later. Jeans. Poof. that's it. His lanky body not scrawny or drawn. Musseled much like a gymnist, that if you knew him, he was. He moves into the den and pauses. Walks over to Eva and gently pulls the ice from her eye. Leans over. Looks with his own icy ones. Nods and lets her replace it.

He sits and gently scraches his chest. The nordic runic tattoos that are about 3 inches wide starting at his shoulder and dropping straight down the left side of his chest to his pants line. Running a hand though his still wet sandy hair he looks to the screen and tilts his head.

The dark tattoo over his left brow stands out on his freshly scrubed face. Keeney had stolen all his stuff so he had to just scrub till the top layer of skin came off and regenerated. He's pink as a babys butt.

(james)
note he isn't offering to help or heal or.... anything
he's become pretty accustomed to the Get way
if she wants help, she'll..... snarl.... for it
so he just keeps playing his game

"Couple more boxes of take-out in the fridge."

that tossed back towards the Skald
this level's won, now the green car is careening on some island paradise
and it's careeeeeening
he's not as good at this level

(eva)
He pulls the towel away and she narrows her gaze at him..
Well.. narrows the part of her gaze that’s still reacting correctly, and just snorts as she puts the towel back when he’s done looking. She don’t expect any of them to give enough of a fuck to help heal it or help in anyway, and certainly not the dredlocked asshole. Dire – some sort of uneasy respect there. Least he was gonna step between her and that little pissant Decker if he’d gone for her, but other then that.
What does it matter. She’s just the flavah of the month, right?
She keeps eatin, half assed watching the screen between bites, before she’s scraping the carton clean and setting it by her feet, the towel set in her lap as she goes about unlacing and pulling off her boots. She kicks them close enough to the chair to not be in anyone’s way, before long legs fold under her, Indian style, beer propped between thighs as she makes sure her make-shift ice pack isn’t leaking, and relaxes back in the chair, cold cloth pressed against eye as nails tap absently against the beer bottle.

(dire)
He gets up with a nod to James
"Thanks yuf"

Walking to the kitchen he roots around till he finds the walnut chicken then a bit more. Coming back to the living room he pauses by Eva's chair. Slaps a steak into her hand. Nods and grunts with a smile. Hell if anything he seems PROUD of her. He takes a seat and pulling the chop sticks out he starts to eat as he watches.

Still waking up.

Still a get.

(james)
seems he made it through that track
.... barely....
toked up on damage and good enough for a whopping fourth
whatever paltry amount won by the race goes right back into fixing the car
and as he's clicking around that menu with one hand
the other's taking the joint from between his teeth
offering it to Eva with a crooked grin

there's a nod to Dire as he sits back down with breakfast
knowing not offering him the J isn't an insult
the weed isn't a peace offering, by any means
he's just treating Eva as one of the gang
not flavor of the week

"How many asses you kick?"


(eva)
Dire wanders off and comes back and slaps a steak. Into her hand. She arches that pierced brow and snorts in something akin to amusement as she lifts it slightly in thanks, but doesn’t put it on her face. “Thanks man… prefer to eat mine rather then wear it though.” She shifts the ice to split lip for a few moments, watching James barely make it through this track, smirking at the 4th place finish (not that she could do better, but better believe she’ll be practicing up the next time she’s locked up in the damn condo under some pretense of their giving a fuck.). The passing of the J gets something of a suspicious look, but she sure as fuck ain’t gonna turn it down, leaning forward with a suppressed grunt at pressure on rib before relaxing back again.
J lifted toward lips, where lips devoid of the dark, dark plum (smudged a bit under the swell of lip still) clench joint, and she hits… hard… holding as she passes it back to James…. An eternity later, she exhales and smirks. “Three. They were still tryin to wake the last guy up when Luc put me in the cab.”


(dire)
He listens and nods. He'd offered. She declined. No problem with that. Sometimes he whished he could wear brusies. Sadly nothing short of a incapasiting wound would ever mar his fleash. He watches them and snorts. Not meanly but that shit stank. He rubs his nose and eats his chicken. Not EVEN relating what it LOOKS like

(james)
there's that half-frown half-considering look
not that bad
though the suspicions get a little more than a chuckle
as if he can't smell that underlying seeth

"Livingston can fix you up, if you want."

he knows it's not a mean snort
that would be why the overhead fan is on
to at least quell the smell and smoke just a bit
though his gaze pretty much stays on Eva

"So what... exactly.... did I do to piss you off?"

free to talk here
free to drag him somewhere private to talk
free to tell him to fuck off, too

*luc)
Fight-Club.

It was the buzz on the streets, something was going on. Something wild[/Wyld] and it was infecting people in the stragest ways... Fight just seemed to break out anywhere, and the strange chuckling scarecrow, well he was always around. Three guys to chill out, three guys to initiate and and a few hours later he was back at the pad.

He's got a few bruises himself, its no FUN if yer not fighting in homid, but the pain [..unlike Eva's..] was only novelty -- something he could change. His thoughts grow a little more solemn as he gets to the condo...

Damn waning moon.
[...damn girl.]

(eva)
Not that bad indeed. For a girl. She smirks slightly, and nods. “yeah – might ask him. Depends on how the swelling goes down and shit.” She’s been hurt before, she doesn’t turn down the offer right off though, so that must be something. Towel and eyes are placed in lap, beer lifted and several swallows downed before she meets his gaze levelly. (Christ Eva, gonna getchoreself killed doing that shit..) “You’re a condenscending asshole.” Cut to the chase and who gives a fuck who hears, eh? A few beats of silence, before she smirks and shakes her head. “I ain’t no ones fuck James. Anymore then you’re her’s. Y’don’t know shit about me, and I sure as fuck didn’t deserve that kinda introduction from the one they all say is a cut above the rest. Expected it from Decker.”

(dire)
Dire grunts. Looks between them. Raises his andy brows and pulls his legs up so if needed he can hop between them and suckup lics. He kinda gives them both a look.

you know the look

"If I spill my fucking chicken to keep you two appart, heads will roll"
(not spoken)

that look. He smiles softly and looks to James after Eva's words and raises his brows. Poor Gnawers. They always catch shit.

*(luc)
He gets outta Dre's car, with a faked yawn. "Nah man.. I'm spent." Dre quirks his head at Luc and the oversized scarecrow slams the car door shut.

All fun and no work.... wait. He glares at the condo, and cracks the joints in his neck [..home sweet home.] as he makes his way toward the stairs. Key jangling in the lock as its pried open...


(james)
a brow..... lifts
condescending asshole - the hell?
mentally, the Gnawer replays the last few days, searching for this conversation
rewind.... rewind.... rewind....
..... oh

oh shit

there's a goooood chance the Ahroun doesn't exactly remember what he said
or at least wasn't even aware of the implications of what he was saying
(fucking. full. moon.)

"Fuck." well, yes James, that's what got you into this mess, muttered in a sigh, and he actually pauses the game to turn around and face her fully - funny thing that, one of Gaia's great warriors turning around and giving a mere Kin full attention and respects contained therein "I don't.... remember exactly what I said, or why, but the days before lead up to it being harsh and you bearing the brunt of it, and you're right, you didn't deserve it. I apologize."

many Garou would strike a Kin to the ground for what she said
beat her worse than any at the little impropmtu gathering could even dream
yet here he is, still sitting on the ground, meeting her gaze, and offering a genuine apology

(luc)
Enter Luc-Boy.

The prodigal son, bruise stained and grinning wiiiiidely. He was a charmer if nothing else, too quick tongue - too big grin, that shit was gonna get the skald in trouble someday. Course, for all the lumps the kid took, didn't seemed like he shied away from any of it...

Get to the BONE baby.

His eyes flicker around the room but that grin doesn't waver a fraction. Though the words are a rumbly whisper oddly aimed to James, "Honey, I'm home." His attention though is drawn towards Eva...

Wonder of wonders.

(eva)
Fuck. Indeed.
He pauses the game and faces her, and she’s already gathering muscles in ready coil to spring away (course, chances are the first punch will send her flying, but better to try and dodge then to take their shit) And then he stops, and gives her full attention. And respect.
Fuckin respect.
That right there, coupled with the apology, from one who - in their world – has the right to beat her down for answering the question as honestly as it was put forth gets a reaction. Gimmer in dark eye(s) of respect, of appreciation (of belonging) as she searches his gaze to be sure that he was genuine. Silence lingers, lengthens, and Luc enters.
His attention on her, Dire’s attention on them, James’ attention on her to await her word, finally there’s a nod, and she holds her hand out to the Gnawer. “fair enough.” Same thing she said to Imogen, her acceptance of how things are, and of apologies, but James gets one further word. “Thanks.” It meant a lot, that much is clear, even as dark gaze peel from him to look up at Luc.. “well looky what the cat drug in. You get that last guy to wake up finally?”

(dire)
Looks to James as he apoligises and grunts and nods chewinghis chicken. Looks to Eva to see if she'll accept it.
Nodding to Luc as he walks in. Dire's in jeans. Eating chickel with white creamy stuff on it. Sitting beside james, looking at Eva with her beer, her take out and a raw steak over there.

Nods and grunts again as Eva agrees and eats some more chicken.

(luc)
" --'Ventually."

Course he passed out again later. [..glassjaw muthafuckers.] but hell leave work at work right? He takes pff his jacket and throws it on the couch settling on the other side of Dire. One legs fold in WIDE shape atop the other.

"You healin up okay?" It bothered him. It bothered him to ask [...so against the point of fight club] and it bothered him to see her fucked up...

Alot.

(james)
"Dinner's in the fridge, honey, have a good night?"

shot back at the younger Skald, though his attention doesn't pull from Eva
when she gives her nod, he returns it
bit of that trademark easy grin raking across his features
freehand reaches out and clasps hers
(and with the strength in it, one hit would break her neck)
sometimes things are settled with fists and fury
other times it seems a few words will do the trick

this is about the time the Gnawer gathers his legs and stretches upwards
handing off the console controller to whomever wants it
pointing out which button does what
they can play his saved game, or start their own
but he's got something that needs to be done before the night is out
wandering off to gather shoes and shirt
those little vacations from duty never last long enough

(eva)
She isn’t surprised at the strength hiding in that clasp of hand, and her smirk slides to crooked grin before she takes the controller, and nods to the explanation as it is given quickly, and there’s a nod as he heads off to get dressed. Gaze turns to Luc and her smirk is born again as she arches pierced brow, gauging his reaction to seeing her hurt for a change, something akin to satisfaction to see that it bothers him. (now you know how I feel, at least in part..) “Good.”
Stupid glass jawed freaks. Beat down by a girl – he’ll probably never live it down. She tips her beer back, draining it half, and props it between her thighs again. “S’all good. ‘ll get Livingston to patch it up later.”


(dire)
He grunts and sprals out on the space that James vacates on the couch. Taking up 2/3 of it. Still eating his chicken and watching silently. He flickers his eyes between them.

(luc)
"Aww an' ah thought you fergot our anniversary.."

He makes kissy noises after James departing form, that incorrigible grin still in place. And at her look of satisfaction his nostrils flare briefly in exhalation, no answer however-- "Yeah." He didn't like it--it was like seed planted in his stomach.

Nudging Dire with his shoulder "Move over man."

Posted by james at April 23, 2003 12:00 AM
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