December 02, 2003.12.01.03. - whirlwind [everyone][riverfront - james, tristan, imogen, roxanne, lars, decker, lexi, mark, gwyneth, leroy, nelly, madoc and surely someone else I've forgotten.... hopefully this scene will get broken down into something resembling sane parts..... omfg.]
(tristan)
He knows he’s going to catch a lot of ribbing. May as well get it over with, hm? He had walked Roxanne back to her car after the tour of the warehouses he knew of that were for rent, promised again to speak to James, and then tucked her into Pricilla and watched her drive away. Been a long damn time since he clicked with someone like that – hell, in all honesty, it’s been since he met James.A thought that brings a slight groan.
He’s gonna be teased mercilessly for this, he just knows it. He can’t help the boyish grin though, fingers brushing back his tumbledown curls as he makes his way back to the warehouse. Long strides eat the cement between where they’d left the car and the warehouse, the broken windows appearing first, then the building that now houses Eagle’s Chosen and a couple of kin coming into full view. He didn’t even play today, but has enough to pause and duck into the minimart, grabbing some coffee (so he had a late night last night, what of it?) and warming his hands around it as he finally closes the distance to the warehouse door, grasping the handle to see if it’s unlocked.
(james)
the door is locked
though it's probably easier just to walk in the big bay doors that have been rolled quarter-way open
just because his little trick keeps the warehouse toastily warm - doesn't mean it provides ventilation
and sometimes the place gets downright stale
especially with the amount of cigarette smoke that doesn't creep out the occassionally broken windows
much less any other fumes from the cars and generatorthe Ahroun is sitting just to the side of the island of domesticity
firmly planted on a crateturnedchair
dreads pulled back into a ponytail tied with a shoelace
camel's hanging from between his lips and dark eyes squint slightly in the smoke
the water heater's been drug out of the bathroom
something simply wasn't working right and Bone Gnawer ingenuity has pilfered a new partinstalling the new part is the task of the moment
suffice to say - he's squinting because of the smoke and partial perplexion
handyman James is not
though the Time Life book of Bob Vila's home plumbing spread open on another crate is doing its best to convince otherwisemusic stirs the clearing air of the vast cavern of their mostly empty home
among his gatherings of the day, seems he picked up another new toy
it's old and battered and doesn't play CDs, and the tapedeck is questionable
but he found a stereo that came complete with speakers that didn't even crackle
and there's a tune by Tom Petty rolling on the radio waves(tristan)
Ah, yes. Open door, how could he have missed it? He chuckled at the sound of tom petty coming from within – at last, music! – and he ducks to grab the bottom edge of the door and heave it open a bit more. He ducks through, and then replaces it to it’s previous location, before looking around and searching out the firmly planted Ahroun studying in such concentration.His entrance couldn’t be hidden even if he were trying too – must remember to get some decent lubrication for the doors to stop the infernal racket – and the echo is just dying down off the walls of the mostly empty space. A moment, and he figures what the hell, he’ll just brazen it out. “Hi honey! I’m home!”
Long strides cross the room toward the island of domesticity, and after another sip of the coffee in still teaming cup he drapes it over James’ shoulder. “If I knew you were here, I’da brought another. But I’ll share if you want a sip or four....”
(james)
the rolling hinges squeal in ear-piercing protest
and oddly, with the amount of lube that's around for the cars
(the CARS you filthy-minded bastards!)
nobody has applied any to the great bay doors that provide easiest entrance.... must be a reason for that
but nevertheless, the kinsman's entrance cannot be missed
so momentarily, a smirking smile begins to creep along over the fullmoon's features
it's hidden, as he turns away to consult the book of knowledge once again
stretch and twist of torso pulling the faded and greyed wifebeater tight across his flesh
deeply ashed scars striping an exotic print over the length of his back from pelvis to neck
the very tips creeping out in sentient path onto the sculpted muscle of strong shoulders
as if reaching for the strange gathering of what must be ink signifying dedicated weaponry on right bicepwrench clanks uncerimoniously into the toolbox gaped open by his left boot
reaching to pluck the steamy cup from Tristan's hand"Oh, well, I lef' quiet this mor'in...." chuckle hidden in a loooooong sip ".....figure give you two s'me priv'cy."
(tristan)
Of course there’s a reason for it – probably easier to get himself a key, anyway. But James shifts position and stretches, pulling that wifebeater tight against flesh and the kin would be lying to say that he didn’t watch the flex and relaxation of muscles that move in smooth animalistic grace under skin painted with scars.The wrench clanks, and startles him from that train of though as the cup is plucked from his hand, and that chuckle is not missed even through the looooooooong sip, and the pretty boy at least has the grace to flush. Even as he’s growling in mock irritation that ends in a groan. “I knew you were gonna give me shit about that.....” and yeah, he’s laughing too. “Go on – get it out of your system before I burst your bubble and tell you it was completely innocent.....”
Mostly. Completely!
(james)
"Nothin' 'bout yeh, boy, s'inn'cent."the fabric pulls tighter across long muscle in his back when the stretch exemplifies itself
this time allowing him to turn around and cast a look pointedly over his shoulder
handing back the cup of coffee with an easy - if teasing - grin
odd, this good mood possessing the Garou, isn't it(tristan)
He laughs then and nods. “Got a point, there... even Roxanne said so when gaping at my morning wake up call.” Smirked, slow and smug as he plucks the coffee away from his friend and takes advantage of said good mood - leaning in close to whisper a silken tease across his ear... “but I was dreamin’ about someone else, all pillowed up in those dreds...”He pulls back and wiggles his brows, chuckling as he sets the coffee cup aside to peel out of the top two layers of clothing – mighty toasty in here. Handy little trick. Yeah. Down to the tank top he takes up his coffee again and drags up a seat, fingers sliding through those mismanaged curls again. “Lars asked me to check her out.” Pause. Wince at how that sounds in light of the situation and just cracks up. “oh man. Everything I say is just gonna like make this worse, isn’t it?”
(james)
.... that was Tom Petty's "I won't back down." brought to you by Chicago's own WLUP, 97.9, the best of forty minutes commercial free classic rock, up next is Dire Straights....the Ahroun does his best to ignore the tease
but for some reason, today: it gets to him
a chill racing up scar-shadowed spine
the smirk deepening to a dangerous (if lopsided) sneer
a low growl playfully chasing the teeth that snap after the silken-soft wordsbut then - James laughs
and it's not the soft sound that's eeked out lately
it's a full throated, hearty, one-hundred percent laugh
(how rare has that been in the past months....)
weight pivoting around elbow resting on BDU covered knee
brow lifting to look the stripping kin up and down"Gettin' little warm'n here f'r ya, issit?"
(tristan)
he.....growls.....and it would be a bald faced lie if the kin said it didn’t make his knees go weak. For all his teasing, he knows, they know that should the move ever be made he’d be there in a heartbeat. And then the laugh that follows? Full-throated and free.... that brings a wondering grin to the kins lips, lingering soft and fond as he arches a brow, questioningly... “you’re in quite the mood today – can’t be just because you caught me in an unexpectedly compromising position.....”But he flushes and nods, blunt nails scritching along his jaw before grasping the collar of his tank and fluffing it a bit. “Why, yes... yes it is... why do you think that is?” Grinned wickedly, before he takes a loooooooong sip of coffee, and offers the cup back toward his friend. “Tell you what, if I ever decided to taste forbidden fruit? Rox’s just the kinda gal I’d have to try it with. Playful. Fun. Easy going. Sexy too, if you like the curvier type.” Which. You know. He doesn’t.
Honest.
Oh stop laughing, will you? It was innocent! “Gives one hell of a backrub too.” Yeah – lets just keep digging that hole, hm?
(james)
"She pro'lly break yeh."tossed back over his shoulder
attention mostly turned back towards the water heater at hand
it seems though, that now there are extra parts
that weren't there the last time he looked at everythingthe HELL did you get yourself into, Jamey boy?
the mysterious part sets heavy in broad and calloused hands
and for a moment - the fullmoon is quiet
still that fond grin ambling across his features
a part of it's holding an offhand comment at bay
the rest is pure nostalgia"Gotta pos'card t'day...."
(roxanne whitaker)
The adventures of the Pretty Boy Kin and the Peroxide Fox had ended earlier, leaving Roxanne with a bemused smile on her face. During the time lapse of her absence, she set about the daunting task of errand runs and phone tag with different auto parts stores around the city to find the best bargains for replacement parts and materials to fix up Decker's Tacoma. This task became her new priority, shrugging off the duties of unpacking boxes and fixing up her small studio flat. Once, Roxanne had felt she had hunted down the lowest prices for good quality material; she placed the orders for windows and putty, to seal up the bullet holes. She then made a few more calls to her chop shop friend, Jack, to find her an out of the way garage to work in. All she needed now was a warehouse and she would have her own workshop set up. Nevertheless, that could be put off until later in the week. Right now, she had a request to fulfill and get Tristan back into Decker's good graces.It would not be too long before the familiar rumbling purr of the V8 engine hummed sweetly in the night. The sound of the heavy engine's roar announcing Priscilla's presence upon the Eagle's doorstep, more like pulling up to half open bay doors. Who or more appropriate what was Priscilla. A near mint condition, classic 1969 Chevy Nova Camaro SS, classic American-made automobile; flawless burgundy-plum paint job with polished chrome finish, the interior just as detailed as the exterior, playing homage to the latest in high tech stereo equipment. (Can we say someone had money to burn...?)
The Nova is thrown into park, driver's door opens up as the artiste responsible for this Car hobbyist' wet dream slips out of it. Black leather molded over a lithe, light muscled frame. Pants, boot-cut, flares over biker, topped by a vintage Rolling Stones t-shirt and the leather racing jacket, faded and well-worn, embroidered with a network of patches up the sleeves, many depicted names related to cars. A row of jumbo safety pins runs in a line down the outer side of the right sleeve. Long, thinly twisted cords of platinum blond (peroxide) pseudo-like dreadlocks were gathered back away from her face, a few strands left to frame the hard lines of her features. Cobalt-blue eyes, a stark contrast to the hair, scope out the bay doors. Roxanne retrieves a 12-pk bottle of beer and a large bag of greasy fast food from the back seat before shutting the door and walking to the door. “Tristan!?” calling out in loud, yet husky voice.
(gretchen heidreich)
Despite the chill in the air, and it being downright cold, Greta walks with slow undirected strides along the Riverfront. With darkness hugging her tall, slim form her blonde hair quite nearly seems to glow. With fair skin set against a dark scarf and equally dark wool coat, she is a strong palette of contrasts. Watching the toes of her worn boots, with a glances spared now and then for the path ahead of her, Greta slowly digs in her coat pockets for cigarettes and a lighter.(tristan)
He chuckles and nods. “Most likely. But what a way to go. She wants to meet ya too – see where the boundaries are and shit. She’s a mechanic that does the whole gambit – legal, illegal, boosters – you name it, she does it....” to cars. Really. “which will lead me to my next request...”He trails off and watches that dreamy look – ooooooohboy, he recognizes that look, and he moves closer, sinking to crouch by the water heater and grabs the book of how too by bob villa and holds it a moment before looking up at James and just grinning, broadly... “oh really...” Even as he reaches to rest his hand on James’ shoulder, squeezing gently. “I’m happy for ya, man... real happy.” Because a look like that can only mean she’s doing well...
His gaze drops to the book now in hand though, and he contemplates the parts around the ahroun “Uh, where’d them extra parts come from?” Chuckled as he starts to read a bit – between the two of them they should be able to figure it out... –should-...
And then that pretty blond in question calls and he grins, while hissing “be. Have.” Knowing damn well he wouldn’t behave in reverse situation and hopes that James doesn’t hold back either. He’s in a good mood, they both are, and it’s all in affectionate fun. “If it ain’t Foxy Roxy.... hope you’re ears weren’t burning – come on in!” Called back toward the open door.
(lexi)
The blonde has been out of sight for a few days. [out of sight - out of mind] She certainly hasnt been bored, thats for sure...She had been quite busy, but now she heads for the wherehouse. Camo jacket over flannel shirt. Jeans and hiking boots. Blonde hair up in a pony tail. Those [feral] grey eyes taking in the night as she walks. Eriks burlap backpack hiked over one shoulder, the broken - now fixed- strap hanging lose...Always had the necessities in there. It was like Mary Poppins purse..you never knew what she would pull out of there.
She heads for the wherehouse. The whole concept still amused her, Eagle staying out there as opposed to the luxury of Runes condo...once luxury, now sitting on *chair-type things* instead of the plush couches. What day was it anyways...Sunday - Monday?
Erik had her doing all sorts of shit, but finally a break and she finds herself heading to the wherehouse...
Each breath she can see in front of her..damn it was cold..better then Jersey but still cold as fuck...the wind felt like razor blades on her face...
Couldnt they have picked someplace warmer to go...like Florida?(lars)
*The german man walks down the street once again. His long brown hair whipping about his head from the wind. Only the bangs are pulled back tight, and held in place with a leather strap.He walks with the large scar across his face without fear. The rising face of luna causes him to clamp down on his rage with a tight fist. The intensity of it glows in the glare that is his look. And the glare looks at every person he passes, why? because the effect of the moon makes him feel every possible attack in this scab.*
*And yet again, the path his feet walked slowly took him toward the warehouse of the Eagle's chosen.*(roxy)
Her husky laughter becomes her first reply to Tristan's words, as she ducks down, halfway to peer under the bay door."Yannow, I was beginnin' to wonder if someone was talkin' about me." she calls back finally, body bends to duck inside, straightening up, before walking over to them. "Got beer and food if yer is hungry."
She holds up the bags and 12pk case in her hands to show them, walking the length of pace across the warehouse over to James and Tristan. It was easy to see what Tristan was talking about. She had looks that weren't hard on the eyes at all, looks defeminized slightly, by the leather. But, then again who didn't like a tough chick in leather. The water heater lying in parts on the ground near them drew her eyes. She didn't comment, just looks over at James with a nod of her head. "Hey."
(james)
"Y'know....." brows raise in slow concert towards his hairline, deep umber eyes perusing the parts scattered about his boots like hungry puppies "..... I've.... notta clue."the all but forgotten Camel long is plucked from a side-bar ashtray
allright, not exactly an ashtray
it was more a coffeecan that bore the brunt of one of the full-moon's tempers
the top half ripped off and divits created in the leftover mess
but it serves it's purpose if it isn't pretty
of course - none of their own do-it-yourself furniture is prettythe song switches over to something by David Bowie and Queen
and dirty fingernails scratch through the tangled dreads tamed into a ponytail hanging past his shoulderblades
muscle in his arm pulling wayward paths to crisscross sturdy bone beneath
though past the confusion - handyman James is not - there's still that fond glow
it's all that's needed to tell Tristan that indeed, his mate is doing okay"B'fore yeh commence breakin' Trist'n, 'gain..... hey." a quick glance and nod up to the peroxide blond "Yeh knowledge a ca's filter inna water heaters?"
it's easy to see what Tristan was talking about regarding the Ahroun, too
the grin is easy - if lopsided - fair welcome to their little situation
and it's not pretentioned with a Fenrir-esque test, either
the way his dreads are tied back explains the slur that slows down clipped New York accent
his jaw doesn't move correctly when he speaks - it barely moves at all
somewhere, sometime, the entire left side of his face was shattered
it all healed correctly except the hinge of his jaw(lars)
*As the forseti approaches his eyes narrows as he takes in the strange car to him. Curiousity, had his gait move a bit faster, and soon he was past the car, and at the door of the warehouse. A couple sniffs to take in scents... before he is at the doorway and knocking even as he's looking inside.*(tristan)
He laughs as he looks at the parts, then meets that gaze with a warm smile. A wink, and then he’s turning to watch Roxy walk this way, moaning with delight. “She brings beer and food – if she’d just become a tripod I’d fall in love...” He chuckles and reaches up to liberate the bag of fast food from her when she comes near, winking up at her. “You know me. Insatiable appetite.”As handymen go, Tristan is only marginally better then James, and well, that doesn’t exactly extend to waterheaters. Which explains the perplexed look at the book.. “And she didn’t break me dammit...” muttered, good-naturedly. He looks up, grabbing a burger and unwrapping it, handing the bag to James, as he finally, belatedly, does the intros. “James, my BG brothah and general full-moon pain in the ass, this here’s Roxanne Whitaker, GeDub kin. She knows Mark, of th’Knights from back in the day.”
(roxy)
Roxanne had been waiting for one of them to ask, if she could fix the water heater. The bag of food, gleefully taken from her hand by Tristan. She sets the still chilly case of beer down on the ground by them, stepping away to walk over to the metal heap on the ground. One glance up to James with a broad, cheeky grin. "I'm not gonna break, Tristan, not yet anyway."Brows wiggle at them in mischief, as she turns to crouch down by the water heater, reaching out for the home improvement book.
"Tristan, I would give you the world, sweety, but one thing I won't do is a sex change. You'll have to endure my lack of proper equipment, baby." she calls over to him, crinkling her nose. Her eyes skim over the few pages of the manual, as introductions were made. "I can fix damn near anything, except my celibacy. The water heater won't be a problem, lemme just gleam over the book first." she says to James' earlier inquiry.
(james)
"Whut.... all tha' baby oil save yer ass?"James. Just. SMILES.
snatching the proffered bag of food before it's thrown at his head
mysterious part to the heater placed on the ground with it's brethren
don't have to ask him twice to give up fixing things for food"Thank'." the burger held up with another glance at Roxy, then attention strafes to the side "C'mon in, Lar'."
(lars)
*Lars caught the end of the conversation...enough to have him pause at the doorway and not complete the original idea that he was going to say hi.Blinking once, he ducks under and enters.*
"uh, hello."
*He says, and has instant recognition of Roxanne... and glances once at Tristan.*(tristan)
He.... just.... groans, muttering “better hope baby oil saves your ass when I’m done with you, boyo...” even if he’s grinning, and hell, digs the hole deeper still as he arches a brow at Roxanne “Have a heart and at least get a strap on...” A playful swipe toward James, though he doesn’t connect, too busy really inhaling a burger as he turns toward the door – just knowing this comment will come out wrong too. “Hey Lars! I checked out that peroxide fox for you.....” which is precisely why he says it that way, of course.Laughter falls as he waits for the Foresti to enter in so he can repeat intros, nodding once again as he meets that glance. “Lars – Get Foresti, Roxanne – GeDub kin. She’s cool man – she even brings food. Help yourself...” Nods to the beer and bag of takeout with a grin.
(imogen)
As Lars steps in, he can hear the brief hurry of foot steps, a smaller woman's pace quickening to catch up before the door closes shut, and avoiding the need to knock altogether. "Ta," briefly tossed in the Forseti's direction as Imogen steps into the warmth of the warehouse.Christ. Damned party over at the Eagle's turf.
Perhaps, despite the late hour, she is just out of work, because this is no casual wear, and perhaps not quite suited to the greyness of the warehouse, the dinginess of it all. Black slacks over her slender legs, shoes instead of boots. It suits her, however, even as it does not suit the locale, the kind of subdued elegance of clothing, business attire, even if, surely, the dead did not care. The temperature has dropped rapidly, and she wears gloves on her hands, gloves that are being quickly removing them as she smirks briefly at the sight of the Gnawers inhaling food and the apparent Gee-Dub kin who had brought it.
(roxanne)
Her head lifts up, eyes torn away from the book to scope over parts and then up further to slide over to Lars. A small smirk plays across lush, full lips.A simple "Hey." is offered to Lars. Roxanne leans down to set the book on the ground and begins to pull off her jacket. She starts to laugh at Tristan's comment. Snorting with a sultry retort of her own back at him. "I don't have strap on, Tris, but I got a modified vibrator at home that might work...." she flashes him a wide smile, winking. Letting her part of the coversation die on that note, Roxanne picks absently at the parts, glancing over the manual and then the water heater, making an attempt to piece it back together.
(lars)
*His first instinct at the rush of steps behind him is to turn and attack... which is quelled into something that was just a snap turn of his head. He took a step back and waited for Imogen to enter and then turned his attention back to those already inside.Cold fire burns in his icy blue eyes as he meets Roxanne's look with his own.
He stays rather quiet as the gnawers and the glasswalker exchange barbs back and forth. And decides a beer might be in order after all.*
(lars)
*And then it sunk in that others spoke to him, however breifly*
"Hello Roxanne of the glasswalkers." *He says in simple reply back. His english tinted with a slight german accent, and obviously a language taught, not used while growing up in the manner he chooses his wording.*(james)
a glance into the bag
several burgers left
it's tossed towards either Imogen (nod up) or the Forseti
whichever is closest
he, himself, is reaching for a beer
not.... exactly.... unaware of Lars' reaction to seeing the new blond
(not quite the reaction that's been happening all night, is it)boots in a comfortable tirangle of weight lock against the ground
muscle through his thighs tensing to shove weight backwards
the bottom of the crate scraping against the concrete slab flooring
a part of it is making room for Roxy to work on the heater
the other is creating the sound to drawn attention to the Gnawer that has...
... well.... already finished that burger
(does he even chew?)
a slow look meandering from Glasswalker to Fenrir and back"Y'all 'ave hist'ry?"
(imogen)
It's amazing how fast her reactions are.You can sense when a Garou thinks you're a threat. Feel it to the marrow of your bones, right to the core. When he whips his head to look at her, quelling the rage, part of what quells it might simply be that her hands lift, one more than the other, an immediate automatic reaction. She carries no weapons. She is no threat. It's not fear that causes the reaction, but some automatic habit, as if this were a scenario she's played out before.
There is a sweep of an eyebrow upward at the volley of innuendo between the Urrah tribes, a brief shake of her head, the conversation sliding around her, pushing her gloves into her jacket, and beginning to unbutton the dark suede coat, one handed.
Dark eyes flick upward as James asks his question, her gaze flicking between Roxanne and Lars.
(lars)
"No history."
*No, it was simply that the fires that burned inside. Stoked ever greater by luna becoming more full, could not be instantly dimished... as if they ever were. Unfortunately, the glasswalker kin was the next to meet the gaze of the fenrir forseti.He took a few deep breaths, and grabed a burger and a beer. And drank down the beer quickly.*
(tris)
He remains where he is – somewhat near the heater and thus Roxanne, handing her things when she asks for them. Burger has disappeared, and he grabs a beer before its passed around as well, grinning at Imogen. “Evening. You’re meal from last night’s in the fridge there, too.” And probably won’t be after tonight – midnight snackage and all.He chuckles, and doesn’t dignify Roxanne’s comment with a response. Yet.
He adds after Lars through. “She came in while we were waiting for dinner last night, Lars, Imogen and me – Imogen, this here’s Roxanne, Roxanne, Imogen.” No tribe given, he knows better then to give much of anything without the redhead’s permission. He finishes filling in. “Lars heard her ask for Mark’s address on the phone, asked me to check her out and make sure she was one of ours, simple as that.” Course, he didn’t expect the easy instant friendship – that’s just gravy.
(lars)
*Quietly, Lars walks over more directly to James. His voice a bit lowered while everyone else speaks among themselves still. The man had something to say...something he's been thinking about for sometime. Ever since he talked to decker that first night really...
And not really knowing how to ask, without sounding too stupid, he went for the direct approach.*
"James, I was wondering...
if you see Decker or Erik. I would be honored to submit myself to the tests to try and join your pack. Could you pass along that message for me, if you see them?"(roxy)
Roxanne looks up again at the turn of conversation, despite her actions. She was listening, rather intently, as they talked about her. She gives Lars another look over, then to Imogen with a familiar nod of 'hello' and finally her eyes move back to James, answering his question. "No, no history. Saw'im in the pub last night with Imogen and Tristan. That's it."It was an odd attraction between the two kinfolk, Tristan and Roxanne, some bizarre chemistry allowing them to simply click personality wise and play off the other in a quick friendship. There were very few, if any people, Roxanne had never experienced that feeling before. She motions off towards the beer, "Please, gimme a beer, Tris."
Her weights shifts, sliding down to perch on her knees, leather creaks as it pulls tightly over her muscled thighs. The light muscular structure wround its way through her hard-coiled frame, to flex and relax, with her movements. "To shed some light on things. Lars' concern probably stems from my inquiries about Mark Gaines. I've got close past connections with the boy. I'm just lookin' for him." shoulders roll in a shrug, afixing her attentions back to applying parts on the water heater. The soft clang of tools used and dropped when they served their purpose.
(gwyneth dawn)
*Gwy has just arrived in town. She has never been there but heard lots of incredible things. The Irish girl grabs a heavy bag and wanders nearby a warehoue or something like that. In fact, she has no idea how she got there. The young lady's lost*(roxy)
to James, Tristan: to Roxanne Whitaker: 6D10 Dice Roll: 8; 9; 3; 6; 5; 10((I think that water heater is good as fixed tonight *LOL*)
(james)
the fullmoon's chin dips in a nod
not used to having a Forseti around
it's all about the recalculation of that time of the month"Fair' nuff... rather playit safe 'n sorry wi' what goin' on ou'side."
then the deep umber eyes - color of Gaia's bodily soil - lift when the Cliath approaches
most Fosterns provide some constant reminder of their attained rank
the Bone Gnawer, however, is not one of them
he did just as a kinfolk for help, after all
Lars is granted the same caliber of his attention and consideration"Sure thing Lar'." the smile easy, if lopsided "Consid'r it done."
but his attention strafes past Lars
in fact, it goes past the entire gathering and towards the half-open bay doors
over the sound of the radio quietly leaking classic rock into the warehouse
there was a car door slamming outside (....cab? all cars of the pack accounted for 'cept the Monte)
and footsteps he didn't recognize the pattern of intermittant with the currently playing commercial(tristan)
He grins and grabs another beer, pops the top and hands it to the leather-clad kin who’s working her magic on the waterheater with a wink.After a moment.. “reminds me – Met up with that LeRoy who the warning went out about the imposter? Guys a freak, but ok, Jim says he’s got some old family that likes to hitch a ride now and again, that’s why he’s an real asshole occasionally. However – he’s foul mouthed and crude, and while that’s not necessarily bad, seems has a habit of getting extra protective of Mister Gaines and laying hands on the ladies and demanding explanations that aren’t any of his business. Big ass black man – can’t miss him.” Just a little note of warning for the girls.
Then his gaze is following James, brow arched slightly as he looks towards the doors and back again...
(gwyn)
*Gwy hears some voices and approaches cautiously. Maybe she should ask someone where the hell she is. She saw the shadow of a person at the door and approaches timidly* hello?? Excuse me... *Strong Irish accent*(imogen)
The kinfolk glances over at Tristan as she leaves her jacket on, but open, some relief to the heat. "Is it?" A rhetorical question. It's a toss up as to whether or not she'll take it, or leave it to the wolves, as it were. "Thanks." Non-American tones, low voiced and quiet, the particular tones of the particular part of the world she grew up, where english was the first language, but not quite spoken the way it is spoken here. Foreigner, if only slightly.Her gaze flicks toward Roxanne, a slight nod, downward, "A pleasure," automatic words as they're introduced.
A sideways glance toward Tristan, a brief smirk, "Met 'im, I think," notes the woman, as her gaze, too, flicks toward the sound of car doors, and foot steps that, to discerning ears are not familar. Her weight shifts slightly attempting to distribute it more comfortably, her posture changing, subtly as a hand reaches up to push back strands of flame hued hair away from her face, tucking them into the braid that attempted to tame the chaos of her mane.
The irish accent, perhaps catches her attention more than most, but after a beat, the woman starts to stand, favouring one side over the other, glancing toward the timid woman who had approached.
Hell. Honestly, she's surprised the woman hasn't turned tail and run off. "'Lo. Can we help yeh?"
(lars)
*He listens to Tristan, but his head turns to follows James' gaze out of the warehouse. Another approaches.Safe inside, he sniffs the air...and old habit that's hard to break.*
"Not like you or me James."
*He says softly to James.*(swyn)
*Glances at Imogen timidly and smiles* Uh... well... yes! Could you please tell me where I am exactly, ma'am? *She's a Fianna kinfolk and for those who can sense, she's a PB4*(james)
"Evr'ybody got their fan-club....."and whatever the result of that comment was is lost at the voice filtering in from the door
as the yet-to-be-replaced PR guy for the pack, James is up and crossing the room
right on the tails of Lar's instinctive warning
invisable sphere of Rage that grows in concurrence with the moon floating before him
and by the time he's a few feet away from the timidly lost woman
there's no question about what she is.... fancy that.
another one."Pretty bad sect'n a th' riv'rfron'.....thinkin' y'r more'n lost.... miss...?"
brows lift in question
most likely asking her name
much less her business out here(gwyn)
*Timid and full of grace. Her voice's deffinately a blessing and her movements reveal the breed in her blood. She turns her eyes to Jamie as he approaches and smiles* Indeed... I am. My name's Gwyneth and thank you for the info, Mr...(imogen)
She catches the gist of Lars's words, her gaze sliding sidways toward the Forseti and then the Ahroun, before her attention slides back.The amount of Fianna blood in the area has perhaps just gotten intolerable. Pure Fianna blood, for that matter, since that was something that the doctor had in spades. James falls in to speak, and the slender woman, turns away, leaving the Forstern Ahroun to whatever he might plan to do.
(roxy)
"Same here, Imogen." her eyes drift up to settle on the redhead, returning the nod.A hand stops what its doing with a wrench, drops the tool and replaces it with the offered beer. She raises it to her mouth, taking a few deep swallows, silent and vigliant on the new timid creature that creeps her way under the bay doors. Roxanne shifted her concerns with casual interest back down to the water heater. She sets the bottle down, going back to the task of fixing it. The job was coming along quite well and with haste.
(tristan)
He chuckles a bit at Imogen- given a fight between LeRoy, even in full asshole mode, and the pretty redhead, he’d lay bets on Imogen any day of the week. He tips his beer back, half way watching James and the girl asking directions, while partially watching Roxanne as she works her magic with the waterheater.(lars)
*Lars settles in behind James instictively, but doesn't say anything.*(james)
timid and full of grace
a definite opposite of the guttermutt standing before her
six foot two and topped by a tangle of brown dreads tamed into a ponytail that dangles past his shoulderblades
a wifebeater that has seen far better days clinging to his torso above tattered and faded BDUs that were secondhand far before he owned them"James." slowed down to include all the letters, there's clarity in the word compared to something that slurs the rest of what isn't clipped by an obvious accent originating from somewhere near the Big Apple "S'm'thin' in partic'lar y'r lookin' for?"
he can feel Lars moving up behind him
even if the Forseti is doing it nice and quietly
it allows him to lean a shoulder against the wall near the doorframe
dark scars on his back creeping up over the curve of muscle bunching as arms fold loosely across his chest(gwy)
*Smiles politely since it's quite hard to understand what that guy from NY is trying to say* Jame...nice to meet ya. *Glances at Lars and wonders if she's at the right place...or if she's in dangerous. Her eyes turnt o look at James again* No... not really... I am... I mean, I've just arrived in town and I assume I got lost. I was looking for a place... I know no one in town. *Smiles softly* I'm sorry if I disturbed you or your friends.(tristan)
He stands and relocates the food bag, grabbing anther burger before reclaiming his... chair? Bits of pipe and wood made into something that resembles a seat, anyway. He settles and starts to inhale the second burger. Between bites, as Imogen moves this way again, he asks quietly. “So, Imogen. Hatching a plan for a christmas gift for Decker – need some help though. Roxanne here is gonna help me get the Tacoma back road worthy and in pristine condition. I’d like to have it done before Decker notices, but have a feeling that won’t go... think I should just fess up and tell him and ask to borrow the truck, or have James borrow the truck for a few days and get it into another workspace?”(imogen)
She doesn't much appear to be watching anything, here, neither Roxanne with the waterheater, nor James and the stranger, taking out a package of cigarettes and zippo lighter with one hand, tapping out a cigarette and sliding it into her mouth. The process is one handed, and she doesn't light the cigarette before offering the cigarette pack to Tristan, raising an eyebrow in query."A Christmas gift?" she echoes, her lips twitching in a wry smirk around her filter, reminded that yes, it was that time of the year. "Christ, I don't know," if he takes the cigarette package, her hand returns to pick up the zippo from the bench, lighting the fag, drawing in her first drag in, before she answers again, exhaling cigarette smoke, "Guess it depends on how important it is fer yeh to surprise 'im."
(james)
"Nuh." he may go six ways from furry on Sundays, but today is a far more congenial day, something that happened earlier simply inspired this striking good mood in the streetcorner drummer, or maybe it's just the inherant style that somehow graces his rough appearences "Bett'r y' come up here th'n fall into whatev'r's lurkin' ou'side." weight lifts from the wall "C'mon in."he turns to lead back inside
no verbal or outward sign Lars is expected to watch his back and bring up the rear
he's well aware what mere kinfolk are capable of doing
but the exposure of his back reveals the patterning of scars that disappears beneath his belt
the thin fabric of the wifebeater doesn't do much to cover it
some Garou inflicted some serious damage some time agoand there's something strange about the warehouse as he leads Gwyn inside - it's warm
not just comfortably warm, but warm
as if there was a heater running full throttle
and not a lick of it escaping the bay doors
there's an offhand wave to the chairs pulled straight out of Junkyard Wars"Make y'rself comf'ble."
(gwyn)
*Shrugs slightly at his invitation. She's not sure she should go inside. As she steps in she feels a bit comfortable. Glances around and at everyone there. Nods slightly. Obviously, she's feeling insecure. Smiles at Tristan* Oh... thank you...*turns to James beforing taking a seat* I'm not sure I should be here...*rubs her neck as she places her heavy bag on the floor*(tris)
He laughs and shrugs. “I’d like to surprise him – but I’m much more interested in not having his blade shoved into me again for any reason. Might take up to a week too, don’t know if I can spirit the truck away from him for that long either.”He tips his bottle back again, before inhaling the rest of the burger. Gwy gets a nod followed by a good natured. “Lo, there.” As she is invited in to take a seat.
(imogen)
A shrug, "I can't see why he wouldn't believe James borrowin' his truck. 'Course, yer lost if 'e says no." A glance upward as Gwyneth enters, but unlike Tristan, she doesn't offer a greeting.
(roxanne)
Too many different conversations were going on at one time for Roxanne to focus her concentration enough to eavesdrop. She attunes her ears to Imogen and Tristan, listening with bemused interest. She offers Imogen a wry smirk. "All I need to do is drive the truck out of here with my life intact. I can fix it and redo the paint job on it. I've already got the parts on order. The truck'll be gone a few days maximum, unless of course, I have some problems." she shrugs her shoulders, looking down at the water heater, which was now complete and fixed. Not one spare part out of place. "Which I doubt I will."Hands swim over the ground, clinking tools between her calloused palms, dropping them with a defined clunk into the tool box. She looks down at her dirty hands, brushing them clean, as best she could and stands up.
"Well, water heater is finished. Now it just needs to be installed." She calls over to James, resting her hands on her hips and looking quite proud of her handiwork. Roxanne was a useful kinfolk, if anything, when her talents were put to work.
(lars)
*Lars understands what to do without words. Such are unnecessary..even wasteful.He stands by the door as James walks inside, and watches the woman walkin. Almost shaking his head from the wift of pure breed that assaults his nose.
As Gwyneth enters, he closes the door... but continues to stand by it.*(tristan)
He considers this, and nods. “Think I’ll ask James to make the request first – then if he says no I’ll fess up. Least I gave it a good college try that way.”He looks back at the waterheater, and the lack of ‘spare parts’ on the floor and grins up at Roxane as she stands. “You’re mighty handy to have around there chica. Backrubs and hot water? I’m definitely keeping you – Mark can kiss my ass.” He winks, and opens her another beer, handing it up before he offers one to Gwy....” Wanna beer?”
(lexi)
She had been walking towards the wherehouse...and then she had stopped for a beer. Why the hell not, it wasnt like she had to be anywhere any time soon.
Eriks burlap backpack still hanging over one shoulder. Camo jacket open over the flannel shirt...Jeans, hiking boots.
Blond hair pulled up into a pony tail. She could be cute...if she really wanted to be...but she had much more important things to worry about then caking some make up on, and playin some cut eol -fuck me now- kinfolk.
In fact...it was rare to see her smile, let alone laugh. Very few got through the labrynth that was her mind..
Very few actually tired.
She didnt really care about that though...she didnt need them to like her, they accepted her in the pack, that was enough for her...
She had spent a few days with Erik getting shit figured out...She had done what he needed.
Now she headed to the wherehouse..much better setting fo the Eagle pack then the luxury of Runes condo. Much more fitting.Moving to the bay door she lifts it up and ducks under it to enter.
(assuming thats how one enters a wherehouse))
She Takes a look around to see who is at the flophouse tonight.
(decker)
What is with people and closing the door on him lately?About ten seconds after Lars closes the door, it slams open again. If Lars is standing close enough, it'll slam open on Lars. Decker walks in, steelshod boots [must've been kickin someone's head in again] tracking suspicious redbrown grime over the bare concrete. His grey eyes sweep the gathering as he half-coughs under his breath. Twice the usual amount of Fianna pure breeding tonight. Then he fixes his attention on Lars.
"So ya want in."
Doesn't word travel fast among the Eagles.(roxanne)
She laughs aloud, head canting at downward to shake slowly. Peroxide blond dreadlocks gathered back into a ponytail with a few strands framing the hard lines of her face. She accepts the beer with a heartfelt thanks. "I sincerely try to be, Tris, it's better than sittin' around on mah ass and actin' pretty." she cracks open the bottle taking a deep drink. "I'll let you carry the looks, Tristan, I'll do the grunt work." pointing a finger at him. She finally, lets her cobalt-blue gaze fall on Gwyneth with a curious glance. Lush full lips pull back in a false smile for the Irish lass. Garbed in leather pants and a vintage Rolling Stones t-shirt. She fit the gutter street appearance like some of the others.(gwy)
*Beer is something she loves. Purses her lips at the offer. She grew up drinking beer she could say. Nods slightly and takes it* Thank you...*sips it. Maybe beer would help her to calm down her nerves. Not she's a nervous type but being there among unknown people isn't really cool. Notes the false smile... and wonders if she's welcome there. Smiles at Roxane, but her smile is genuine and not false*(lars)
*Two people enter suddenly. His own rage was high, luna was showing the face of his birth. But before he could react at Lexi walking in..the door is slammed up against him.Lars doesn't even grunt..and his eyes widen at Decker's words. but how..
After a blink, he nods his head*(lexi)
Well she sees them.
They all happen to be there...or so it seems. That door may as well be a revolving door, cause as Lars entered...
Then She entered
Then Decker entered..
She finds herself among a whole shitload of people..some she knew, some she didnt...
Didnt really matter...She was welcome here, she was already told that, so instead of making any introductions, or being overly friendly...she grabs a sort-of-chair and sits..
Reaching into the burlap backpack, which resembles Mary Poppins purse at times, she could just pull shit out of it and make someone go *huh* howd that all fit in there.
Out comes a 6 pack.
Out comes a bottle of whiskey for herself.
She slides the 6 pack over to where some of the other people were...so it sat out as public beer...Opening the whiskey she takes a drink and wipes her mouth on her sleeve. Erik style
Then she just observes.(james)
"Well.... y' c'n either freeze." nodded back towards the open door "'r get t'know ev'ryone."it's grinned easily enough
if... somewhat lopsided
he's never going to smile completely again, that's for sure
but he's not about to coddle the timid kin no matter how lost she is
(he stopped coddling kins long ago)"Beaauuuuuutiful."
immediate switch of attention to Roxanne's declaration
and oddly, he really is talking about the declaration
and not the Glasswalker kin herself
door slams back open to announce the Modi's entrance
oh hey, there's Lexi, too
and he can't help but laugh at the greetinghe told the kid to consider it done
and since the other two Garou are busy
James grabs the creeper that was settled up against the toolboxes
rolling the weight of the waterheater proper onto it
he's not going to risk breaking it by dragging it to the bathroom
it just got fixed, dammit"Wha's this 'bout me...."
aimed towards the powwowing kin before he moves the heater away
(gwyn)
*Her eyes show she's lost... even more than when she was alone. She glances at those who has just got in. She remains in silence, next to Tristan and James. All she does is to drink her beer with pleasure and everyone can notice that. Watches them curiously. The more one listens, the more one learns... she has heard that before. Shrugs at James comment though she hardly understood what he said*(tristan)
“Welcome, ma’am.” Winked at Gyn before he stands, chuckling, and moves to ‘help’ James with the waterheater, though he’s the far stronger of the two – obviously. Mainly it gives him a chance to lower his voice and whisper his request since the modi has now joined the party.They’re gonna need more beer.
But with a grin, he murmurs under the level of conversation. “worked a trade with Roxanne to fix the Tacoma. Need you to ask Decker if you can borrow it for a couple of days so I can get it outa here and to a garage where she and I can work on it. Wanna return it in pristine condition.” James will know how much it means to him to do so. Stupid mistake, there is no easy retribution, but at least he will fix what was broken partially because of him. “If he says no, i’ll fess up. But i’d prefer to keep it on the downlow until finished...”
(imogen)
"However yeh want t'do it," says Imogen to Tristan, negligently as she stands, walking over to one of James's ashtrays, tapping cigarette ash into the pale glass receptacle, exhaling smoke out of the corner of her mouth.Lexi's entrance garners a glance, a brief smirk, which is what the blonde tall Fenrir gets for a greeting, followed by Decker's abrupt no-holds-barred entrance, greetingless and the beginnings of what is probably pack initiation.
The cigarette returns to her mouth, the hand falling away to rub briefly at the back of her neck, before her attention shifts again, dark eyed gaze across the occupants of the warehouse, features blandly expressionless.
(mark gaines)
Word got around, as it often does, about the haunts frequented by the more boisterious packs in a burg. This fit the bill.Steam from the now-at-rest engine seemed to trail and cling in the wake of his movement to the frosted chilled air. Leather from that jacket creaked in the same rythmic pace of athletic shoes on wet pavement. Faded blue jeans flexed alternately taut and loose with each easy stride. Fingerless black gloves flexed along with the errant opening and closing of calloused hands. The sculpted sheen of his shaven pate was covered with a tobaggan-style knit cap. The clothes served as good insulation to maintain the fire within, but failed to conceal the tall one's athletic form.
Facetted blue eyes burned with an altogether different fire, one brought on by his birth under the full and pregnant face of Luna. The lines of his youthful handsome face were set in a stoic expression of everpresent control- always a hairsbreadth from being lost. His even breath made frosty wisps that added to the imagery of the boiling cauldron within.
Nostrils flared as he neared the territory of the other wolf pack. There was no hesitation as the Alpha rapped on the door of the warehouse. Announcement was an old courtesy even one of his modern ways enjoyed.
(decker)
"You want in, you run with us fer a while." He sidesteps to let Lexi in the door with barely a glance needed. She's Get, he's Get - they got an understanding of the blood. "You hang around our turf, you protect our kin. You're at our side in battle 'n when our Alpha talks, you lissen. Coupla weeks go by, maybe even a coupla months. You prove we kin trust ya at our back - then yer in. Git?"
(lexi)
What the fuck had she chosen to use as a chair..this one was definately made in a drunken stupor, cause there was something poking in her ass... but shit, she didnt make it and wasnt gonna bitch.
Readjusting herself, maybe it was meant for someone shorter...she drinks from the whiskey bottle...Watching, listening, and just staying quiet...A nod to Imogen...wow so she wasnt completely invisible tonight. Didnt really matter to her, she didnt need to be the center of attention...eyes move to the cigarette in her hand..mmmm she didnt smoke a lot..but once in a while it was nice..and when she had a whiskey bottle in one hand, a smoke was always nice..Too bad Imogen couldnt read minds, cause she wasnt about to go askin for one.
She watches Decker talkin to Lars...Erik had met Lars for only a moment...but then again anyone seeing Erik for a long time was rare.
She leans back a bit, careful not to topple off the sort-of-chair. Observing the mad tea party of misfits.(roxy)
Roxanne leaves the installation of the water heater to the Gnawers. She bends down to scoop up her jacket, moving off to claim the makeshift chair, that once held James and Tristan's ass on it. Long legs stretch out, boots crossing at the ankles, left over right, splaying the jacket over her lap. The beer finds a place beside her chair on the floor within hand's reach. She spurns her attention on the pockets of her coat, looking for something and listening. She was only here by invite of Tristan. Whether Eagle's Chosen wanted to let her stay was another issue entirely, but they were going to be neighbors soon. Might as well get cozy.(lars)
*Well that's simple enough...and the odd thing, basically what he was doing already. Perhaps that was a sign of things to come.But it also gave time for the pack's alpha to really be able to judge the fenrir forseti.*
"I accept the challenge, Decker-rhya. I will earn my place in the pack."(james)
he's not exactly rolling the heater into the bathroom
more towards the little closed that had been converted at some point in time in the building's spotty history
next to it is am even more questionable closet which purportedly within the behemoth second-(fourth?)-hand heater fits
that's where he drops off the heater
it can be installed later
that much he knows how to do
there's just other things that need doing at the moment"Need a borrow it a few day' comin' up soon, an'way." he doesn't elaborate on why "Fine me 'nother ride I c'n trus' onna road trip, 'n I'll ask t' borrow the truck."
back towards the group
.... somewhat
he stops on the far end of the island of domesticity
a glance to Decker and Lars, seems the Modi's handling the firsts
another imperceptible expression at yet another knock on the door
but his attention is somewhere else, calling out:"Im'gen..... gotta minute?"
(gwyn)
*Siping her beer, she hears some few words that reach her ears and brain. Did she hear kin and Alpha? Hell, she's among family. Glances at Decker curiously and stands slowly. Not that anyone really notices her there but she'll at least try to introduce herself. Chews her lips softly as she watches everyone, waiting an opportunity to say something*(decker)
The unrelenting grey stare relaxes after a beat. Decker nods - up first, as always - and lets a bare hint of a smirk show. "Jus' keep doin' whatcha already been doin'," he says, and then reaches behind him to pull the door open on a swing that leaves him behind it, instinctively shielded against whatever intruder might stand outside.But it's not an intruder per se. It's Mark Gaines, resident Glass Walker fostern. Decker glances the other over, then grunts.
"Hell you doin' here?"
(imogen)
Imogen was not a mind reader, but she was, at times, terrifyingly perceptive. Lexi isn't that far away, and her pale blue eyed gaze was caught by the smaller woman (because Lexi, and in fact, most of the people in the room dwarf Imogen by a foot), and such a gaze is perhaps not so hard to read.She glances at James as he speaks, crossing to where she'd been sitting, to pick up the cigarette package in her left hand, and toss it in the Fenrir kinfolk's direction, before turning to face the Bone Gnawer Ahroun, a bare glance over her shoulder as the warehouse becomes victim to yet another Ahroun and visitor. The rage must be almost intolerable for some. It's not quite past half moon, but it's a tangible feeling, almost as if it were solid.
"Yeah," she says in James's direction, exhaling the last of her cigarette smoke, and stabbing out her cancer stick, "What is it?"
(mark)
The blast of below-freezing temperature, from the Modi's opening of the door, is accompanied by the well timed blast of frozen breath from the muscular athlete's heated chest cavity. Blue fire glints in the newfound light.Decker's grunt is greeted by that street-style backwards nod, so popular with the kids these days, "Welcome wagon. Forgot the fuckin' fruit basket," his deep bass carried with a resonating rumble that a person could feel along their spine.
(roxy)
A hand snakes out to retrieve her beer bottle, crossing muscled arms over well-rounded chest. Her free hand rubs over flexed bicep on her bare left arm. The other hand, beer in it, brings the bottle to her lips. Cobalt-blue eyes drinking in the activity. She calls over to Gwyneth from behind her bottle. The rolling rivers of pent up testerone and rage, did very little to affect her sense. "You might want to wait until formalities are done, before speakin' up."It was the deep, resonating bass of a long ago familiar voice that snaps the Glass Walker kin's eyes. Roxanne begins to choke on a long sip from her bottle. Eyes widening at the sight of Mark. She straightens up, legs folding inward, as she heaves in air, forcing out a coughing fit.
(lexi)
Wow...perhaps Imogen was a mind reader...she catches the smoke..and actually cracks a slight smile and nod in Imogens direction...Pulling out a matchbook
-still from Jersey -
showing how often she she used them, she lights the smoke...and takes a big drag....then the tall blonde stands up...Leaving the beer on the floor for the others...she tosses the now partially drank whiskey bottle back into the backpack, and throws the good strap over her shoulder.
One more quick glance around...still no words, no intorductions...whoever needed to know here here did...whoever didnt know her, still didnt.
She walks towards the door - which seemed to now be blocked by yet-another-new-face.
She doesnt look like the friendliest of folk, she certainly isnt the welcome wagon...Giving Decker a quick nod...she mutters..."later deck" enough said there...and yet her only 2 words since she got here.
Standing at the doorway, feeling the razor sharp wind on her face...yeah why didnt we pick Florida again? She looks impatient...as if she had been waiting to exit for an hour, when in fact it was about 10 seconds.(tristan)
He nods, that easy going grin sliding free in thanks. “I’ll see what I can drum up. Thanks man.”There’s other things he needs to tell the Gnawer too, and as Imogen makes the decision whether to make the trek over to join them he does so, quick and dirty, soft and sure. Sometimes you gotta take the opportunities given. “Got another message from Jim. Heard what I said about LeRoy right? Turns into more of an ass when his anscestors are skinriding. Anyway – other stuff. There’s a pack in Hyde. Took a shot at Jim, ended up loosing his duffle of all his shit when he had to run. He’s all right, but pissed as all fuck. Says they’re Gnawers.” Thats one. “Saw Erik, gave him the rundown on everything up till couple days ago – he said he’d be around soon.” That’s two. And last but not least. “There’s a guy – Isa. Claims he’s bastet, Decker kicked his ass to the curb the night we went after the baby – he’s hanging with Jim, keeps trying to get in with the packs for ‘mutual benefits’ but he won’t say what those are exactly. Like I said, Decker kicked him to the curb, Jim says he’ll keep an eye on him, and get with me to pass along anything we should know.”
Then a grin for Imogen, belated one for Lexi, and then a glance of concern as Roxanne folds over into a coughing fit – all before he see’s who’s at the door...
(gwyn)
*Rubs her forehead. Sips her beer and breathes deeply. Feels like a ghost among them all. Glances at her beer and chuckles. She doesn't know what to do exactly. As she hears Roxane, she approaches and speaks in low voice* Uh... sure then...(decker)
Decker looks down at Mark's empty hands, then back at the man."Like booze better anyway," he says, and he sounds serious. It's a suggestion for the next visit. A jerk of his head toward the yawning interior of the warehouse and its small island of liveability where most the others were congregated serves as an invitation. Lars is on his way out, and Decker shuts the door after the Forseti. Locks it. Nothing fancy: just a heavy steel bolt as thick as four bunched fingers shot into the wall.
The clank echoes off the high vaulted ceilings. Decker turns and brings up the rear. There isn't much in the warehouse. Just a few sleeping pallets, a table or two, some food, a "new" water heater, a generator for the emergency lights that serve as lighting.
(james)
he's on the far side of the little island of habitation that the majority is currently occupying
it affords the Ahroun a nice view of what's going on in their warehouse
(grand. fucking. central.station.)
plus it spreads the Rage out nicely in the cavernous interior
allowing something of a semi-private conversation
a foot hooks into a sortofchair and pulls it to where he can sit
nodding to Tristan to grab one, too
and waving Imogen over
he waits until the firey kin joins them before continuing.... or at least taking in the Gnawer kin's spilling his guts
and there's a nod and scowl at the first, another nod at the second, and slow consideration of the third
(all of it passed on to the Modi totem-phone-impression-style, since he's busy and all)"Allrigh'..... now eith'r'v yeh come up wi' more'n the Maneat'rs?"
so the mention of Gnawers shooting at Gnawers makes him a bit suspicious
(lexi)
Ok that was just -rude-
She doesnt say a thing, she wouldnt call him out on it right there...it was Decker for fucks sake, he wasnt the one to bitch at...but the fact she said ~later Deck~ and was standing at the door should have been a good indication she was heading - out- and to have the door shut and locked at that moment was like a quick slap in the face, even if unintentional.
She didnt care though...no big deal. She was just a kinfolk, so being invisible was common. As Decker invites the new face in, she pulls open the bolt and again releases the door heading out...She almost chuckles...but that could very well break her face. Backpack over her shoulder...Beer left as offering to the hounds...She heads out into the night...The wind slapping at her face..reddining her cheeks.(imogen)
She rubs her hand briefly against the curve of her forehead, a brief movement that might denote some level of fatigue, deeper set than some days. The hand falls down to brush against her slacks, the pale white of her skin almost shocking against the black of her pants."Yeah. S'why I'm 'ere," she answers James, leaning her back against the almost frigid wall of the warehouse, the gift not extending to warming the cement. The cold seeps through her jacket, clothing, bandages to her skin, as she continues, her hand pushing back strands of hair from her face. "I've got bodies. All o' 'em 'ave been eaten."
(roxy)
The 6pk of beer that Lexi brought still sat out in the open for claiming. The 12pk that Roxanne brought was almost depleted of its goods, perhaps maybe 1-2 bottles left in the case.Roxanne remains, double-overed, slightly, beer hand held away from her. Free hand curls into a closed fist to pound over her chest a few times. Watery eyes, squeeze shut, until her air passage was clear again. And the coughing fit subsides a little.
(tris)
He runs his hand through his curls, holding them back... there was... ah – that was it, names. “in the park – names are Dizzy and Smokey.” There. Then at the question he shakes his head. “nothing more then vague rumors of ‘dog attack’ victims. Still none of ours been taken. Jim’s working on some details, but nothing as of yet.” Just call him the messenger boy. “no one seems to know anything definite...”(mark)
Lars is given a nod of recognition. The half-moon and he were acquaintances, after all. Decker's suggestion was answered by a sound that ... well could mean anything. Affirmation. Noncomittal. A deep rumble of an "mmmm,"As soon as he stepped into the interior, it was either by chance or fate that he stopped underneath the circle of emergency light, "Wish this were a social call," he said to the Modi behind him. Trust, for the positioning? Confidence? Something.
A swift motion he uses to mop that knit cap off of his face, allowing the sculpted, symetrical features of his scalp, and strong jaw, to capture the illumination. A slow pan of those fiery windows to that burgeoning Rage had the dual purpose of checking out the interior, as well as the individuals. Any of the ones within.. James, Tristan, Imogen, Gwyneth, received just a touch of eye contact, but not enough to unsettle those not of the true birth, and a barely perceptible nod.
He had shrugged off the black leather when his eyes fell upon Roxie. Beneath was a longsleeved shirt that hugged those obvious lines of sinew like a second skin. For a second he paused holding the garment, considering her. The barest beginning of a smile won the fight to overlay those hard lines, "I'll be goddamned," a slow smokey sound in the acoustics of the warehouse, "You sent me that email, Roxie," he stated with decisiveness.
(james)
a brow lifts at Imogen's affirmation
well, that worked out nicely
and the Ahroun lets his neck flex into a nod
distracted breifly by the nodup offered to the new Garou that Decker escorted
the Gnawer shifts in his seat
drawing the thin wifebeater tight against ashed scars in stretch
dragging the battered Jansport pack a little closer
fishing out the Thomas Guide
flipping through until he finds the detail surrounding Hyde Park"He say where 'e was when't happen?" deep umber flicks to Imogen "Y'got time 'n place?"
(gwyn)
*Finishes her beer and lights a cigarette*(decker)
Posted by james at December 02, 2003 12:12 AM
"Ain't ever a social call," mutters Decker, a little distracted by the running commentary over the totemphone. Lexi slamming the door loud
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