May 10, 2003.05.10.03. - monkeyspeak [imogen-decker-jody][noje]
(imogen)
That it was a Saturday and nearly midnight appears to have escaped her. That it is a day where the majority of people take their rest, do their chores and all in all spend time with their families seems to have passed her by. She must be coming home from work to be driving in this late, the mercedes sliding into the parking spot on one side of the Tacoma, one of a trio of expensive vehicles. Beemer, Tacoma, Benz. A car thief's dream.The weather has threatened rain all day, and she pulls the black rain slicker further around her form as she shuts the car door behind her, a bump of her hip as her head ducks down, fingers sweeping across the edge of her hip, finding the space of her pager, assuring it's presence. She's definitely been working. One pale hand passes over her loosely coiled hair, smoothing across kinked and curled hair, before walking toward her condo, fingers sliding into her pockets, finding cigarette lighters.
(james)
zippo CLACKS open, illuminating the figure sprawled across the porch next to the condo in question
he's got boots on the railing and shoulders against the tipped back of the chair, dreads have spilled in their haphazard disarray across the tee that speaks the fact it's been threatening to rain all day has probably escaped him - that it's nearly midnight on a Saturday and he seems to have nothing better to do than sit in the dark (didn't even bother with the outside lights) on the porch probably means as much to him as the slight kinfolk trying to beat the rain that keeps meaning to fall but just hasn't found the right time yet
the brash glow of orange flares on inhale
the sharp smoke of Camel fills the air on exhale
the trademark snap closure of the lighter bounces across the lawn between home and parkingby the time she's within decision distance of the bottom of the twinned sets of stairs
his fingers are slipping away from the unopened beer bottle placed precariously on the corner of the railing which leads from surrounding enclosure on the porch to the downward slope of decline to the sidewalk
of course it was a second bottle he brought out for himself
but he's offering it up without a second thought, pause, or even salutation
dark eyes on the flame-haired kin
the slow relaxation of muscles crunched in situp to allow his torso back to it's lazy recline(imogen)
She ceases the pull of the cigarette's from her pocket, as she walks up the pathway, apparently abandoning the nicotine need for the moment.She can feel the touch of eyes, Garou eyes, which has a different burn than the staring prying eyes of a human, as she walks up, and by the time she's reached the stairs (and walking up), she knows where James is, and catches the offer of beer. A crooked smirk curves across her mouth, as she inclines her head in a nod, walking up to save the beer bottle from it's precarious balance, picking it up by the neck. A twist of her other hand, fingers catching around the beer cap, and a soft hiss of escaping air (if there were lights, they would have seen the escape of mist, to accompany the hiss, but as it is, it is only sound), "Ta," british truncated thanks as she tips back the bottle and takes a swallow.
"How're things?" she inquires as she brings the bottle down, stepping onto the porch, facing him as she leans back against the railing, resting the butt of the bottle against the edge of one extended thigh.
(james)
"Koooooopasetic."even the word coils out lazily on the fleur de lis plume of smoke spilling from his smile
his own beer is toasted (welc'm) before a swallow drains the bottle from not half full nor half empty - but completely empty
said empty bottle settles back onto the table to his left with a resoundingly hollow sound
free hand reaching to grab the top of the plastic chair beside him and lift it up and over to settle on the side she's on
whether she takes it or not makes no difference to him
it's just the fact the offer was there
and by the way he's actually smiling genuinely and easily even with the moon swelling in the sky
must mean their hunt is over
or he's been hitting the bong and/or beer for awhile nowand his head tilts to the side
dreads falling like a beaded curtain across the broad expanse of one shoulder"How was work?"
(imogen)
Her eyebrow arches in amused question a she tilts her head back to look at him, one of the rare times where she is taller than the Garou, she standing and he sitting. A vague glance toward the chair acknowledges it's offering, but a brief shake of her head denies it. She often prefers to stand, lean against something. "'Xactly 'ow many of those 'ave you 'ad?" she inquires, tilting her chin toward his empty bottle, a vague distracted smirk. Her attention flickers toward the condo door, then back toward James.Another swallow of her own beer, the smirk fading to a half frown, as she shakes her head, "Boring. Paperwork is not particularly a stimulating way to spend a Saturday."
(james)
"Enough." comes the thickly chuckled word "That I've almost talked myself into a swim."chin lifts to gesture towards the pool across a lawn or three
he grew up in places that any collected body of water was more than a little questionable
not that it would affect him healthwise - but there were some things you just don't go for a casual soak in
but to have a maintained and clean pool only a few hundred yards from your front door
there are times when you think spring has gotten warm enough, alreadydark eyes swing from the softly illuminated water and back up to the deep blue of the kinwoman's eyes
strange, to have a fullmoon Garou looking up at another
(especially when being around the Modi who seems to look down at everyone no matter where he's situated)
stranger, probably, to suddenly be faced with a pure and outright.... child-like.... grin
cigarette scissored between two fingers pointing at her then sweeping grandly towards the fenced pool"You should join me.... sure to liven then night up." brows.... furrow "....especially if you end up catching pneumonia."
perhaps not as good an idea as it seemed, Jamey-boy
there's an apologetic cast to his grin that now suggests perhaps the ajoining spa may have been a better option(imogen)
A brief smirk, "Pneumonia's not likely. I don't get sick. Not often," perhaps her sudden slight frown was brought on by his own, though it is quickly covered by another deep swallow of beer and then she smirks again as the beer has been brought down, an eyebrow lifting, "I'd be more concerned with somebody calling the cops." Which would certainly go over well, considering that he was an Ahroun. What she says might very well be true. After all, the Garou are gifted with quick healing, and the last time James was sick was probably long before he knew he was a monster. It might stand to reason that she, with the blood of wolves, may have some benefit from it, other than the other dubious benefits one receives from being kin.The beer returns to it's precarious perch on the balcony railing as she reaches into her pocket, pulling out a package of cigarettes. Tapping one out, she lights up, battered zippo flaring open and clicking shut, and her ember joins his, as she inhales slowly. Blue grey smoke exhales out of the corner of her mouth. "If y'get caught, I'd have to bail you out." Whether that's an offer or a warning, is up to the rather... slurred Gnawer.
(james)
the Gnawer looks mortally wounded
dark eyes widening as they draw back to Imogen's
going so far as to even drop his lower lip and allow it to tremble
as his whole grande midnight plan suddenly just crumbles to kibble before his very grasp
and, to add to the drama, a heavy sigh rolls out of his chest
(someone would call the cops? on me??)crushed.
as in the time it takes to draw another drag from the Camel
the fullmoon seems to have made a full recovery
it must by that super-Garou healing, or something"You know...." offer or warning "That doesn't help quell the temptation."
seems he isn't slurred enough to neglect consideration someone would call the cops if too much noise was made
(imogen)
The absolute melodrama of the Gnawer hardly results in more than a quiet deadpan stare from the slender kinfolk. If she's amused, it doesn't show as he sighs. Then he gets over it, and she smirks.She snorts briefly, and cigarette is exchanged for a swallow of beer. The bottle is half empty now, "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware I was supposed to keep you out of trouble. However," the cigarette is jabbed in his direction, "Consider this: the amount of time y'must spend waiting in the jail cell waitin' f'r me t'get y'out. And the fact I'd never let y'live it down." Threat then.
(james)
it's the streetwise entertainer in him
he's learned how to grab the attention (and money) of those who could care less
and by the way he grins that she's just staring at him - no matter how deadpan - figures out that she's amused enough"Time? Days." barked in laughter "You'd let me suffer in there all night just to poke fun at me later." her cigarette jabs at him, and his is waving back in some semblance of a parry in this sword fight that's a half-balcony apart "You hardly let me forget you can outdrink me."
allright
threat then
seems we'll be moving back to the drawing board and onto plan B
even if he's really not sure what plan B... is... exactly
he had been rather set on taking a swim
and the tub just won't suffice, honestly(imogen)
A brief sound, an exhalation of laughter, cigarette half way to her mouth as she regards him, "No, it's not tha' I can out drink you, James," a pause as she inhales, of cigarette smoke and nicotine, not clean air, cigarette placed between her lips. Words are framed in smoke as she speaks, "It's that you get fall down drunk every time y'try, an' yet y'don't stop."The rest of the smoke exhales, and then she adds, "Besides. I would get y'out afore mornin', at least. I 'ave too much sympathy for the prison guards to make 'im suffer y'f'r long."
(james)
"So I'm a lightweight and insufferable?"a brow lifts slow and steady
there's been childish abandon, sheer melodrama, and now utter incredulity tossed at the kin all in the course of a single conversation
though it's the playfulness glittering in deep umber eyes that gives it all away"And here you are, drinking the beer I offered you, shooting down my ideas, and now wounding me with your rapier tongue, Dr. Slaughter, after I go so far as to fold the blankets I use when parked for the night on your couch. I'm hurt. Utterly crushed that you would say such things of your houseguest."
drunk and rambling, he is
(imogen)
"Well," deadpanned as she takes another swallow of beer, "I truly am sorry that you are a lightweight and insufferable and will endeavour not to point that out to you in the future. If you would like to go and swim in someone else's pool, go right ahead, an' I will not post your bail and let you harrass the guards as y'like."She steps forward and crosses to the door way, snuffing out the cigarette between her fingers. A few steps back, and this time she sits on the offered chair, reclining back into it. One leg extends out, the other draws up closer to the chair, resting the bottle on her knee.
An eyebrow lifts, "Better?"
(james)
he does his best to pay attention
he does his best to be respectful and look at her while she's talking
but by the end of it, the Gnawer is simply laughing
stopping for a moment and just looking at her as she sits and asks her singular question"I'm." and then it starts all over again "I'm.... not exactly sure."
and while he's muddling over that precise differentiation in his fuzzy mind
hands are occupied in the slow waltz of jumpstarting one Camel off another
the second clenched between his teeth for safe keeping and he's leaning backwards to stretch towards the coffeecan turned ashtray
it's a delicate ballet of balance, now
the weight of one Bone Gnawer in a concerted effort against the relentless pull of the harsh mistress known as Gravity
and perhaps, he would have given her something else to hold over his head
but a boot hooked beneath the balcony railing seems to save what may remain of his grace(imogen)
The pratical joke of tugging his foot free of the the balcony does not much suit the doctor's style, so James is saved from that possibility of such an ungraceful tumble. Chances are, it hadn't even occured to her, though she does lean back in her own chair, watching the inebriated Gnawer with slit eyed amusement."You know," she says conversationally, as she watches the discordant symphony of the Gnawer's broken grace, "I think you may 'ave 'ad quite enough t'drink tonight, there, James."
(james)
had the thought struck her mind to unhook his safety line on this great adventure
perhaps the thought would have crossed his own mind (perhaps more meandered...) to drag her down with him
though since neither were even considering - he flashes her that trademark eaaaasy grin"I was considering going swimming in weather below sixty in water far colder than that...." chuckled, a soft and generous croon "Whatever may have given you that idea."
the rather flippant remarks punctuated by the cigarette waved around at the end of his arm
proverbially burning the phrases into the air with some off-hand cursive
there's probably a way to wax poetic about the fluidly slippery movements
but that doesn't cross his mind either
he, instead, sinks a little further into the stable safety of the chair that has all four legs already on the ground(decker)
Click of the door opening. Eeeeeeee...hinges squeal. Click of the door shutting again, and whumpf of the Modi throwing his weight back against the wall.Schhhzzz of the match. Half-moon in the sky, waxing. Matchstick flipped burning out over the stairs, turning end over end. Extinguishing itself on the rush of air past. Bouncing on the bottom step. Scatter of sparks.
"You mackin' on my woman, James?" What could be bitter words are laced with low amusement. Anyway, he never voices his suspicions so easily, so concisely. He would never give the accused such a chance to defend himself. Uncoiling weedsmoke. Uncoiling tension across his shoulders as he lifts them, flexes them, lets them fall. Joint in his teeth, he lets his arms hang straight and loose. Shakes his fingers out lightly and tucks thumbs into the corners of his pockets. Slouches down another three inches.
That's when the heavy grey attention finally slips on over to the kinwoman. Slip down, slip up. Cataloguing her virtues, or something like that. Nod up. " 'Sup Imogen." Curl of lip, slow, like wax melting with heat. "Where you been?"
(imogen)
A brief smirk as she tips back the bottle, swallowing the last of the beer. Leaning forward, her arm extending and dropping the beer bottle with a hollow clunk of glass against the balcony floor. "Call it..." amusement, vague, as she straightens, fingers sliding through strands of hair loosened from her braid, pushing it back away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "...Intuition."Hand reaches into her pocket again, and she finds the cigarette package, pulling it out, starting to tap out a second cigarette, catching it between her two fingers to draw it the rest of the way out. The other hand quickly searches for the lighter, drawing out the battered zippo, as she sets the cigarette between her mouth and lights back up, her eyes flickering toward the opening of the door, and the appearance of the Modi.
Her eyebrow lifts faintly, at the low amusement, the thread of it caught in the low voiced words. Some brief quick look there, down, then up, the movement perhaps caught in the ember of the cigarette as she exhales smoke. "Work, mostly," she answers, wryly, because the answer was probably as obvious as the fire in her hair, the colour of flames. "And some damned meetings all week."
(james)
under such suspiscions and scrutiny from the Modi
most would turn themselves inside out and crawl away
but the Gnawer? just loooooooks up past his brows from the vantage point the veritable puddling in the chair has provided
and grins at the (to him) upside down Fenrir"Don't you know I always do that when you're not around?" since they all know if he actually was - Decker would take the forcibly turning inside out honors "But she's been commendably fending me off with lethal insults."
attractive woman, yes, his type, no
soon enough, that relaxed state reverses itself
the slow composure of muscles in preparation for skeletal lift-off
(preflight planning takes so much)
dragging himself out of the chair and diverting route towards the empty one halfway around the table
whether it be rank that hath it's privleges or giving the Modi option to sit by his woman
up to them to decide
he's amused he actually coordinated the effort successfully(decker)
"Yeah, well..." eyelashes fall. He removes the joint and studies it for a moment. Flicks ash off the tip and reinserts. Half-smirk resurfaces and lashes rise: pupils constrict against distant lights hitting his eyes again, dilates again by slight degree. "Been out too."None of 'em have seen him since the start of the week. Some of them might remember him having a serious little chitchat with Livingston one night, though, and the Theurge sketching him what looked like a nest of looping coils with a few arrows in it labeled "spiritnest" and "waterbridge". Apparently some sort of map. Unsurprisingly, they found it left behind on the kitchen counter.
And off he went to learn a new trick. Fire, I fear thee not.
Shift: he watches James get up, walk around, sit again. Might be a bit disappointed when the Gnawer doesn't fall on his ass. His eyes fall on the emptied chair now. He drags it a notch closer to himself with a hook of his foot, but doesn't sit yet. Ain't nothin' more disgusting than a still-warm seat.
"Guess I gotta be around more." Gaze is still level on James. Stays there just another beat or three, enough to make one think he wasn't joking anymore, after all. Then he smirks, shifts his weight against the wall. "Seen Erik?"
(imogen)
A faint sound in the back of her throat, "Yeah," agreement that he's been out, or simple acknowledgement as her head turns to watch James as he begins the coordinated effort to stand, and vacate the chair, and walk around the chair and walk around the table and find the other chair and sit down in it without falling on his ass. It really is quite the effort when you're raising the bar on blood alcohol levels.Her attention shifts as Decker speaks again toward James, reclining back in her chair again, resting her elbow on the arm rest, the easier to smoke her cigarette. There is interest in the answer to that question, and so, from speaker to answerer, her dark eyed gaze glides back to James.
(james)
the little journey put him out of immediate kicking range, too
drunk be the Gnawer, but the Gnawer not be stupid
though it seems this chair is just as welcoming as the other
BDUs and t-shirt have little enough purchase as it is
and finally giving in to the call of gravity (temptationous wench!) there's a slipslide down to comfortability
about two inches shy of sliding right on out, much to the further disappointment of the Modi, he's sure
perhaps in the little shake of his head against pillow of dreads, there's an aversion of his gaze - breif - as well
he knows his packmates well, but there are times one can't be too careful
only a remnant flicker of that fullforce grin emerging at the smirk"Not since before you took off."
(decker)
Grunt. "He still sendin' Lexi into the bowel of the fuckin' beast?""Fuck'd you drink, a whole keg?" This, after he watches James kinda... slither around like his arms and legs weren't quite part of the same body. Weren't quite plugged into the same brain.
Now that the chair's had some time to cool off, he kicks it out and rolls off the wall, coming over a step or two to drop down into it. Patio chairs are not all made equal. They might look almost the same, but some made you feel like you needed a chiropractor, and some moulded to the curves of your spine.
This one? It's one of the latter. There's a faint breath out. He tugs the joint out of his mouth and lets his hand hang off the side of the chair, forearm on the armrest.
(jody)
Jody trots towards the scene. She is a mangy dog, kind of undernurished too. Its obvious the only bath she gets is when it rains too, from the look and slight odor. As always, the one legged raggedy anne doll hangs from her mouth. She is in this part of the world for a reason, sniffing out the would be mentor she met quite some time ago now. Funny how all these special do... errr, wolves (whatever the hell that means) always seem to be more then willing to help for five minutes then never show up again. But thats fine by her. She enjoys her space. She eventually arrives at the building the three of them are in, including the scent she is looking for... James. She hrmmms inspecting the talking monkey cave. She lived in one of these when she was a pup... now she just has to find the doggy door...(imogen)
She watches the Gnawer perform the complexities of sitting down (if the chair would stop moving, surely he'd have an easier time of it), amusement curving her mouth, "yes, exactly 'ow much 'ave y'been drinking?" Only two beer bottles on the balcony, perhaps testimony to the fact that for once, Imogen was not drinking with the Gnawer, at least not for long.They're outside, so, Jody is saved the search for the doggy door, but she is assaulted by the smells of cigarette smoke, marijuana smoke, and likely beer (James is, after all, perhaps pickled in it), which may not be a pleasant alternative.
(james)
muscular shoulders roll in a rather disconnected shrug
there's some things the Gnawer is simply not privy to
Erik's postal itinerary with Lexi would be one of them"Give or take."
didn't the Modi notice the fridge was near empty of it's beer?
the answer tumbles and rolls on smooth, low tones
half-chuckled and half-muuuuuused
apparently he found little else to do during the course of the evening in which, yet again, he found himself holding down the fort because everyone else was.... elsewhere
this all translates to his journey outside because he couldn't even drive in Grand Turismo anymore and the couch was bucking to make a bull proud
dark gaze sliiiiiides (swims) back over to Imogen"I think there's a bottle or two left in the fridge."
it was stocked yesterday
it will be again tomorrow
once, of course, his body reconnects with his brain(decker)
"Luc musta gotten 'em." Fridge was empty when the Modi last checked. It's all good. He'll go bum liquor off the redhead.Ticking of claws on concrete below makes the Modi tiiiilt his chair back just enough to see past the balustrade to the flight of stairs and one mangy pup. The front legs of his chair slam back down, sending a jolt up along the frame of the chair into his arm, into the joint. Ash scatters. The scent of scorching marijuana becomes briefly, minutely stronger, particularly as he hits off the joint on the cool spring night. Crickets and shooting stars, and a balcony full of the beastblooded.
"Lost dog downstairs, James. Might be one o' yers."
(jody)
Jody sniffs around, picking up James's scent again and follows it, stopping short of the stairs and looking up, all wagging tails and tounges. Of course, if you called her cute, she'd maul you. She yips up, barking twice a few times. James! James it's Jody!(decker)
"Yeah," smirk, as he leans over to confiscate James' latest beer, "it's one o' yers."(imogen)
She twists her head, looking over her shoulder to follow Decker's line of sight, catching sight of the mangy mutt, finding it easier now that its barking. Her gaze flicks abruptly away from the dog, scanning the condominiums briefly. Looking for lights, movement. Chances are, their neighbours would not quite understand this latest quirk in their habits."Garou?" she inquires briefly of either Decker or James, whoever answers, taking another drag of the cigarette, inhaling deeply of the smoke.
(james)
a brow sorta..... finds a way to lift itself cause he's no particular help
(faaaaaaaaak me I gotta move)
and that process he painfully and meticulously coordinated (luck, it was all bloody luck!) into some semblance of balance.... reverses itself
boots press against the terracotta tiling
muscles through his thighs exert a slow pressure down
and he's slithering his way back up the chair to peee(gotdemmit, not high enough)eeeeeeer over the railingwhy.... yes! indeed! there is one pup down there. fancy that.
"Hi Jody." just grinned back at the little yips making their way past the dolly in her mouth "C'mon up."
cuase if he tried to go down those twisting, spiraling, dancing stairs to her he'll break his fucking neck
"Yeh.... one lost and confused pup."
(jody)
Jody snaps up her doll and moves for the stairs, quickly sprinting up the stairs. She is an adult by doggish standards, but only barely. A warriors time. Can manager to win a fight but still has all that youthful energy and speed.(decker)
Shrug. He leans back into his seat. Settles into it, a python resuming its lazy coils. A glance to the pup coming up the stairs. He didn't wanna know.Swig of beer. He sets the bottle back down on the tabletop without raising his shoulder from the chairback. It's a bit of a stretch. Then he gives it a nudge, fingers snapping forward - the bottle slides across the table. Wobbles. Threatens to tip. Doesn't.
"Bone Gnawers," he says to Imogen, like this was some sort of explanation for a Garou who looked quite like a dog. Her discerning eye would be able to pick out the differences, though. The longer snout. The lankier legs. The position of the ears on the skull. Little details like that.
(imogen)
The flamehaired woman's head turns to watch as the wolf-dog leaps up the stairs, making its way toward James, considering it as she exhales smoke, slowly, her head turning away from the gathering now. As the pup passes her, she rises to stand, walking toward the doorway, and it's can of ashes and cigarette butts, beer caps and unravelled and greyed cigarette paper.The cigarette is extinguished though only half finished as she directions her dark eyed attention toward Decker, taking what appears to be an explanation, before her attention flickers back toward the wolf and its dog features, a faint sound of acknowledgement, affirmation in the back of her throat, as if the tribe clears it all up. Out of all the tribes, perhaps Gnawer is the only one that would result in such an easy explanation. The Gnawer lupus form is often a mongrel, which might, in some ways (so say the unkind people) suit what they are meant to be.
As for the other tribes, it is unlikely anyone bothered to show her.
She straightens, hand brushing against the curve of her jeanclad thigh before reaching up to push back loosened strands of hair again, burnished curls and waves that have escaped the meager confines of her braid.
(james)
Decker settled and coiled back onto his sunning ro..... chair
James doesn't even try, this time resting elbows on knees
he's leaned forward enough to let Jody get close enough to his face to sniff a greeting
but not enough to plummet right out of the chair
(pickled in beer? you bet - note how he isn't extending a hand)the Modi knows what differences to look for in conformation
the ears are wider set, yet not as wide themselves, head boxier, muzzle longer, legs lankier, barrel broader and shorter than the typical wolf
had Imogen ever seen the pack go furry she'd realize how much James stood out like a sore thumb
(downbred. mongrel. mutt.)
he could wander the streets in lupus looking like a disheveled shepard while the others would incite newspaper articles
though if the difference in breeding occured or even mattered to him, it doesn't show
he's still got that easy grin"S'got you all the way out here?"
(jody)
Jody hops up the stairs, sniffing at James's face as its offered. When he asks her a question.... she just stares. She is gonna have to learn monkey speak one day, but no one has made much of an effort so far. She looks around at the other two, smelling the air and notcing foul, sweet, and indiffrent odors. Then again, this is a city Lupus. Its nothing she hasn't smelled before, despite their expectations, she dosn't even comment. She sniffs James's a bit more, taking in his mannerisms and movements. Did you get hit in the head fighting evil spirits? Ahhhh, Lupus.(decker)
She stands. His eyes move to follow her though he, for a moment at least, doesn't. He watches the downsweep of her lashes casting shadows onto high cheekbone, and the precise, pointed motion with which she taps her cigarette out. Her hair falling over her face; her hand pushing it back. His eyes flicker back to James in some sort of wordless confirmation - you gonna be ok with the pup? - only in not nearly so many words, not nearly so developed a thought.Just a brush on the mind. Just a hint of query.
Then he gets to his feet. He's not the tallest of the pack. Among the males, he and James are probably the shortest, what with the incredible growing Skalds, the lanky Theurge, the fanatic Viking-blooded Alpha of them all. And even Rune tops them by an inch or two when she puts on her killer stilettos: make your legs look longer and put the eye of the nearest fomor out. High fashion for Glass Walker Ahrouns.
He's not the tallest, but he's arguably the strongest: muscle thick and dense over heavy bones. The broadness of his shoulders belies his agility; the length of leg and narrowness of hip gives him an advantage of speed in combat. Ten years later, if he lived that long (and he won't.), he might have traded that speed off for sturdiness, resilience like a stone wall. Until then, he's what he is: a goddamn landshark, fast and unapolegetically deadly.
But all that's something they all already know.
His own joint put out in the same trashcan. Grinds it out. Leaving the roach where it is, he dusts his hand off on the front of his shirt. "Goin' back over?"
(imogen)
He stands, and he is not the tallest, but there is no doubt that she is smaller than he, and any one else of that pack, and chances are, smaller than the majority of the people she meets, unless you count those under the age of twelve.At five feet and some odd inches, even Miriam at sixteen tops the good doctor. Her head tilts up to glance at him, and in some ways, the sheer breadth of the Garou, the sheer strength beneath skin and bones in comparison to slender frame and petite form, diminuates her that much more.
She tilts her head back to look at him, dark eyes holding true to her nature with the constance of an unerring gaze. "Yeah, I am." The gaze breaks as she steps away from the doorway toward the chair she had so recently vacated, picking up the cigarettes from the armrest, shoving them into the pocket of her rainjacket, before she glances across toward James and his... friend, and back toward the modi once more. Pause. A lift of her chin, a gesture toward him, "Coming?" The lilt at the end making it more of a question than it could have been.
(james)
there's a blink from the Ahroun as the pup just stares at him
ah yes, monkeyspeak, it dawns on him (sloooowly) that she still doesn't understand it (gotta work on that)
probably somewhere in the middle of the softly barked laughter at her question
so he resorts back to the more natural body language of his kind
.... even if it is a bit more liquified and sloppy in his far far FAR from sober state"Yes." easier than explaining alcohol "And I need to go back inside." before the tiles reach up and smack me "But you can come in if you want to."
during this, there's been a drop of his chin in affirmation, the sweep of his hand that points to the door, the tilt of his head in invitation that sends dreadlocks sprawling across a dropped shoulder
sure enough, he's prying himself out of the chair
and there's an upward strafe of his dark gaze to(....the hell did you go man....)wards the Modi
something of a nod up - Long as I don't have to move again once I'm inside - something of an answer to the almost question
Imogen gets a smile rather than an uncoordinated wave
Gaia knows what that would do to what's left of his balance
and soon enough he's found his way inside and to the couch
quietly meandering his way back to sobriety through conversation with the pup(jody)
Jody follows him inside, laying down on the floor and... well no, she dosn't even pretend to understand, but she does listen to the gibberish and occasionaly change the subject with a quick question or comment with a yip.((welp guys the Dave Chippel special is on, so I'm out. Night))
Posted by james at May 10, 2003 12:00 AM
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