December 07, 2003.12.07.03. - hook up [smokey-sputnik-yuliya][skid row]
(smokey)
Smokey exits the club down on fifth, a stagger to his walk, a joint in his ear, and a brown paper bag in his hand. Its been a good night so far. Made almost sixty bucks. Of course, for Smokey, having a good night at this point ususally means he'll get shot or something at any moment. But such is life. He tosses the bottle onto the road, and whatever was inside makes such a noise when it breaks you know some unlucky bastard is walking home tonight. With a yawn and a roll of the soldiers, he starts on his way back home.(james)
the crash of the bagged bottle catches his ear
one lanky raggedyman swatched in a patchwork of colors that pretends it's a trenchcoat
his shoulder is cast against the nearest wall
bricks biting into the well-worn and faded fabric
a few dreads hang loose and heavy around his face
the rest are tied back beneath a grey bandana to smote the wind's intentions
deep umber eyes watch the staggering man sweeping onto the street
the vision's marred by a frosting exhale of smoke(smokey)
to James: Smokey is a young, dark skinned black male that probably isn't even out of his teens yet. He is a bit under six feet tall and has a slim but athletic build. His face seems to be set in an almost constant dead serious expression, and when you add a long scar down his left cheek and a lone tear drop tattoo, this makes him kind of an usetteling fellow. His hair and nappy and cob webbing, set into a wild and unkept set of small dreads going in every direction. He tends to wear the same exact clothing every day, sometimes it even appears to be washed. Sneakers that look more undead then on their last leg, the right one wrapped in duct tape where the sole is falling off, some dirty patched up light tan cargo pants, and an old jet black Oakland Raider's sweat shirt worn half unzipper and hood up over a simple white wife beater. A small gold cross hangs from his neck, and the letters M *star of david* H have been tattooed with that home made green shit down his right forearm. More often then not, there is a small buldge near the center of his back.(smokey's earthshattering next post:)
*walk walk walk*(james)
lungs fill with the smoke that will never blacken them
slow inhale, just as slow exhale
grey pluming to chilled coils in the air above
but since the other man is approaching
he just watches, and waits
(smokey)
Smokey dosn't notice the man watching him as he walks off towards the squat he currently calls home. As he crosses the street he dosn't have much regard for the car that comes to a screeching halt right in front of him. Just lifts up his arm in that oh so common 'the fuck you gonna do' gesture and pulls the joint out from his ear. He takes the time to light it before he flicks the guy off again and goes on his way. Great guy, that Smokey.
Smokey takes a puff off the illegal cigarette and goes about his way, turning a corner and disappearing.(james)
illegal cigarette
mighty familiar scent to those in Eagle pack
which reminds him that they've just about run dry
(it's a full moon rising tomorrow, that fact washes out invisable shockwave)
.....might as well, eh?weight shifts to pull his shoulder off the wall
steps devouring the ground in casual Bone Gnawer swagger
all the way until he's at the corner the other guy disappeared around
lips purse to send out a low whistle at the man (boy's?) back(smokey)
Smokey stops and makes a face. Did this mother fuck just Whistle at him? It is a full moon tomorrow, and that fact effects the Galliard as well. Other recent events have just transpired that make him even more ghetto cautious. Which is to say, ready to blast this guy before he gets blasted. Slowly the young thug turns, taking a long puff off the joint with one hand to his right side. "You need something homey?"(james)
the full moon effects the Galliard, no doubts
but it's... full effect on the Ahroun is unmistakable
though for all that Rage swelling tidal around him
he's wearing an easy smile
Camel dangling from his lips
both hands held out and open at his sides
(Smokey isn't the only one ghetto-cautious)"Yeh."
chin lifts in a nod up towards the fragrant smoke coiling aroud the other's head
(smokey)
He stand there a second, then gives an annoyed shrug. Garou can't feel rage. So to Smokey, James is just some cracka flagging him down two nights after he made headlines. "Well, the fuck you need partna?" Needless to say, he isn't approaching the situation like one probably should when talking to an Ahourn.(james)
some cracka with dreads and looking like he belongs in the Skids, too
so that's why James is rather at ease, even if Smokey's on guard
six-ways-furry from Sunday aside, of course"Summa your digs, if y'r hook."
the slur combined with a prominent New York accent.....
it's fairly clear what he's looking for(smokey)
Smokey nods and walks over, reaching in his pocket "How much you need homes?" Busniess. He can always do busniess. Its the low end of high grade. Hydro dimes. Small ones at that. But there is always market for a quick blast off. "I got 10s and dubs. Anything else you need to wait for me to call my connect. Money up front anyways."(james)
Smokey walks over and James smiles
the expression (permanently) lopsided, but seems jovial enough
the Camel's plucked free and ashed on the sidewalk"Best y'c'n get, n a lott'v'it. Cost nottan issue."
the guy seems genuine enough
reach into his pocket slow and open
not about to risk setting this guy off to reach for a gun
(smokey)
"Shit is good, but that so good aint much shit. I can get ya a..." He thinks, doing some figers in his head "Probably a couple of Os for two fifty." Smokey glances as James goes for his pocket but dosn't jump back. He seems rather confident a fight would go his way. Thats the type of thinking that comes from handing a hand on your gun.(james)
while he may have more than that in his pocket
James is fairly adept at pulling out exactly as much as he needs
(when a Gnawer has cash, he knows exactly how much and where)
bills whisper and crinkle as they're folded into his palm
(few coins jingle their protest)
weight shifts to momentarily turn his side to the younger, darker man
(.... wait, aren't those tribal glyphs in the stitching?)
before he's once again facing him straight on
(.... or just a trick of the light?)"Fair 'nuff." dark eyes glance back up "How long?"
there's a pause
just a breif spance of time measuring several heartbeats"'n how well y'know what goes on 'round these part?"
possibly more cash in his palm for the sake of information?
(smokey)
Smokey takes a tep back as James's weight shift and he turns, never taking his hand out of his pocket. The weed and liqour mix with the new, not so good lighting, and he misses the glyph's for now. He steps back up and takes the money. "Not more then, twenty minutes? And well enough to know not to go snitching on them project niggas. I be right back with ya shit man."(james)
it's a practiced eye that watches the younger fellow
nothing particularly invasive
just your average wariness, it would seem
and the profession garners a slow nod"Fair 'nuff... no snitchin' 'nvolved, jus' lookin f'r somethin' else."
the Ahroun contents to settle himself against this new wall for the interim
(smokey)
Smokey eventually comes back around the corner with another paper bag, strawberry philly behind his ear now. He struts back towards the Ahourn with a confident stride at this point, obviously having had more to drink, smoke, or god knows while he was gone. As he approaches he tosses Jame's the bag, waiting about three feet away. "That stright?"
(james)
his head turns to hear the footsteps approaching
inwardly amused at the kid's confident strut
(that's a positive note)
bag caught, hefted, peeked into (Death Grip, eh?) and shoved into a deceptively roomy pocket on his trench"Thank." the word clipped short by his accent and shorter by the slur "Now 'bout that oth'r thing 'm lookin' for.... willin'?"
(two ounces wrapped in celophane, dealer sticker has a black star of david with "Death Grip" written on it.... Death Grip, by the way, is what's spraypainted all around Hyde as turf markings)
(smokey)
Smokey nods "Coo. So I'll tell ya what ya need long as it won't get my ass cut up in a trash can or something. These locals niggas don't play with that shit." He leans up against the wall, waiting to hear the white boy out.(james)
"No worry."out comes the pack of Camel longs from his pocket
scratched and worn bronze Zippo soon following
the smoke lit up with trademark zpCLACK
then both are held out to the side in offer
the Ahroun takes a moment to exhale and compose his thoughts
the plume coiling lazily into frigid night air"'ssociate a mine got inna some trouble 'n shot at week'r so 'go, lost a duffle bag. 'M interested in reclaimin' it." the Fostern's dark eyes swing over to look at the thuggish youth, and a brow lifts towards the bandana restraining the dreads that otherwise hang down to his mid-back "Know where I c'n do tha' wi'out any strings that'll get th' local pantyhose inna bunch?"
scratch my back I'll scratch yours, right?
(sputnik)
Only the truly enlightened and perhaps insane individual could fitfully understand what began to transpire in that thick, brutish head of the burly Russian man. Not so tall, unlike most men, at 6’4, it was the sheer girth of the man, broad chest and thick arms, made him pay homage to most stereotypical Russian mooks seen on television. What made the big Russian creepy were the thick cords of black-grey dreadlocks that fell down past his shoulders to mid-back. A good portion of it gathered back from his face into a ponytail, held together with a large rubber band from a lettuce patch found in the dumpster.Tattered clothes of army fatigues, multiple layers of thermal and cotton shirts under large leather jacket make his bum gear for the evening. A tall, brown paper bag clutched in one hand, the clear glass tip of a vodka bottle peeks out. In his, other hand, well… more, like what one would not want to see in his hand, was the instrument of his urination. He staggers out of the alley, near the street corner, mumbling garbled non-sense words as he pissed all over the building, sidewalk and alley in a semi-circle around one small area.
(as Wolf promptly LOSES it at that entrance)
(yluiya)
She'd made a pointed example of the thugs who'd thought they would make a victim out of her and was feeling a good deal better. Only two left bleeding... alive thanks to their friends, but not likely to touch the cold dark russian girl again. Its a faint ghost of a smile on her lips as she walks now, cigarette caught between her lips and the faint scent of blood (...only bruises for her, and spots of theirs on her black...) making an interesting perfume to suit Skid Row.Black jeans, heavy leather jacket over a black turtleneck, half ipped for ease of access, jeans flared over her lower legs where low boots hit the sidewalk in rhythmic beat. Her hair was wild and loose as usual, dark to match her eyes, set in the pale face that was rather satisfied now.
She wore death beautifully.
(smokey)
Smokey looks at him for a moment, then just shakes his head "Well from what I Hear... Dude was just being a dick and had to get blasted on real quick to remind him of some manners. If he dropped a bag, aint got shit to do with that. Can't help ya get it back."Smokey crosses his arms and rolls his neck. He aint sure where James is coming from now, but he's got a good idea. If he's just asking, aight. If he thinks he's gonna do something about it, Smokey'll be ready for that too.
(james)
the Ahroun takes a moment to consider this
in all honesty, a bag dropped in that part of town no longer exists
it's been looted, fenced, and otherwise made to disappear from all but it's owner's ire
shoulders far more musclar than they seem beneath the heavy, tattered trench roll in a shrug"Sound' 'bout right."
either about the necessity of one being taught manners
or the fact the bag wasn't a part of the kid's jive"Dunno if it show' up onna lot 'r somethin'. Serve'm right f'r bein' an ass, does'n 't?"
chuckled
and the white boy with dreads holds out a hand
calloused and scarred from a musician's years on the streets"Thank for the deal, kid, gotta name?"
(smokey)
Smokey shrugs as James says it serves him right. "Shit, he survived apperently so couldn't have been that bad." He remains ready though. In the movies, this is about the part where the evil genuis mafia don says 'However' and his goons blow your head off, so it pays to stay on your toes. Most of the time, anyway. He looks down at the hand, and holds out a fist. Hand shakes are for politians. "They call me Smokey homes. Ow bout you?"(yuliya)
Cold wind ruffling her hair even more as she walked, hands chilled but she wasn't paying much attention. If it could handle the cigarette she was golden. The idea to get liquored up and binge twinkies with Una or something strolling through her mind as she headed in the vague direction of where she'd left the car.Cal it luck or more she sees among other vagrants, thugs, hookers, and worse the two talking. Smokey she doesn't know. James she does... and that gaze arrowing in more as she comes closer. A creak of leather, stomp of bootheels, and billow of warm breath and smoke as she slowly exhaled. It was all about standard for her, most days.
(sputnik)
Brown-bagged vodka bottle lifts up into the air to press against his mouth, hidden behind a brown beard that covers his face. He tilts back to take a good looong swig of the alcohol. The vodka, however, may not stay in this man’s system for long. It seems to go in one end and out the other, fueling Sputnik’s bladder to keep on marking the area he was staggering back and forth.A few other the bums, cluster around a corner, pointing and laughing their asses off in amusement at Sputnik. He only seems to grin behind the bottle, continuing to speak in that garbled tongue of Mother Russia, as he, almost ritualistically, pisses the vodka away. The formations of a Rite of cleansing taking effect on the alley he was dutifully purging of bad taint.
(james)
the smile widens
(one one side)
fingers curl into a fist
knuckles bump up in proper ghe-to style"James. Jukebox a some." on the street, to the Nation, take your pick. "Gotta'n easy way a find yeh if my boys like y'r stuff 'n want more?"
dark eyes swing shift towards the sound of boots
and beyond to.... catch sight of Sputnik.... uh.... marking territory
his head shakes with a softly rolling (growled?) laugh
but attention returns to the kid(yuliya)
She was blatently ignoring Misha past the first glance for the bums laughter. Of course most was bluster for her cousin, but she had an appearance to maintain. Still making her way towards James and Smokey, away from Misha's performance, head lifting a bit to nod at James. Thats about as close to respect as she ever got, a faint smile and acknowledgement. Then the dark eyed gaze swung over to Smokey, taking in the other with cautious eyes.Cigarette finished and she dropped it, to ground out beneath her boot as she came up near the two.
(sputnik)
The ritual draws to a finish as Sputnik steps away to face the alley, out of modesty, to readjust his clothing. He lowers the vodka bottle, tilting it upside to pour the rest of the clear liquid out, muttering something to the air under his breath. His free hand running under the liquid as it hits the pavement, freezing up instantly upon contact with the ground. Dirty, piss-stained hands wipe along his clothes to get rid of the wetness, and then he turns to look around. Brown eyes spying his cousin, which brings a delightful grin to his face, he turns to cross the street, heading towards the gathering with big, heavy strides.(smokey)
Smokey was about to awanser before all these people started to gather around him. "What the fuck? This is a social club or some shit now?" He pushes himself up off the corner and takes a step forward to survay the scene. When something isn't right, you ususally feel it. When you feel something aint right, you ususally smoked to much. Smokey is living up to his name tonight, as his hand once again disappears into his pocket.(james)
his neck stretches, chin lifting into the Eagle's trademark nod up greeting
(it functions for just about anything, really)
reacting to the distant gesture caught at the corner of his eye
then as Smokey gets the heebee jeebies
James is up off the wall, too
patchwork, glyphworked, tattered and torn trench swinging around his ankles"Maybe...." offhandedly commented, low enough so that it's for Smokey's ears only "Know'm both.... but dun think they know a give a deal space.... got a place a' fin' yeh 'fore they get'n earshot?"
smoothly segued with a sideways glance and expectantly lifted brow
they've still got a handful of yards before either Russian gets that close(yuli)
Or she doesn't care to give space until actually told and then... its a toss up. She's worked no few deals herself... day in, day out, or better stated, night in and night out. Didn't even dabble at the street level anymore... no a good deal deeper then that now.Nod given and returned and she doesn't get close enough to actually intrude completely, pausing to maybe let Sputnik catch up, since she glanced back at the heavy strides moving behind her. She's just in too decent a mood to actually care a lot right now for having more fights with the family.
Lucky lucky Misha.
(smokey)
"Yo I ususally hang out at Tully's over in Wicker. No offense, but bad ass or not I doubt they'd Let you find me over in Acrum." He nods over a few blocks, where long rows of tiers housing can be seen between larger buildings. With that, he takes a step back again, looking over at the new comers. Lots of white people in this hood tonight. Thats kind of rare where he comes from.(sputnik)
Lots of white people, but ones that bear a familiar face. The crazy Russian was starting to become a celebrity around these parts. One of the latest wackjobs to escape from some mental institution, or so the stories around the garbage cans tell it. He has recently moved into the neighborhoods and claims a small bit of territory for himself about a two block radius from the Circle-K a mile down the road.A low whistle erupts from his throat, calling out to Yuliya in his thick, broken English. "Bitch!! C'mere."
(james)
the Ahroun treats the kid with another of his easy smiles
even with the full moon rising, he seems in a particularly jovial mood, doesn't he
maybe it's just the years working the crowds on the streets has taught him to get past acting like a fullblood
even if the invisable sphere is unavoidable
shoulders lifting the trench away from the ground in another shrug"Why fuck th' karma? 's good 'nuff."
attention now, however, on the approaching Russians
his head tipping a bit to signal the deal's over(smokey)
Smokey nods and heads off, atleast for now, to smoke up the money he over charged James.(yuliya)
Sputnik calls and her answer? Thats a ncie white bird flashing with a nonchalant wave as she heads for James again, Smokey leaving. Hey, she doesn't mess with deals...usually. Doesn't even give Sputnik the glance, since he was all about pissing on eveything then calling her like some dog to heel. The ghost of a smile became a soft smirk. She carried that scent of cigarettes and blood around her faintly."Long time no see."
To James in thick agccent, semi broken english.
(sputnik)
A snort rushes from his nostrils, misting his warm breath upon the chilly air. He chuckles at the Yuliya's sign language, quickening his pace to come up behind her. Once he was within arm's reach of her backside, a big hand swings back and then forward to lay a nice big SMACK right on her ass. "Vhen bitch asked to come. Bitch say for how much longer, Misha." he chuckles at her, nodding his head to James in a poor man's imitation of the Eagle's greeting.(james)
the Ahroun removes the Camel from it's latest drag and ashes it on the sidewalk
the pack and lighter tucked away in pocket not holding the weed that's probably overpriced
but he got the information that he was wanting, even if he hadn't exactly planned on it
(too bad he couldn't do much to recover the duffle, even if that would have been impossible to begin with)
thankfully he was still keeping some of Erik's roll
dark eyes watch the retreating back of Smokey's slippery disappearence
all the way until he darts into another alley and becomes lost in the Skids"Been busy." turning towards the woman to offer a (lopsided) smile "How y' been?"
afterthought drawing the pack of smokes and battered zippo back out in offer
even if she just finished one, herself, the gesture is habitual to the Hood
doing his BEST not to burst out laughing at the Theurge's entrance
sure that it would get him kicked by the icy kin"Sputnik..." greeted on a small bounce of amusement
(yuliya)
Bruises hidden beneath the all concealing clothing notwithstanding (...she's not that weak to whine about her licks...) she shifts position with the smack and her fist swings back to connect with his balls."No need those I think... Misha... for be smacking such."
Nonchalant as she can be, and reaching to take a Camel from James with that same smirk. Just daring him to say anything. She still carries those thugs blood on her afterall... and she's not one to let insults slide for long.
"I better...now. Danka."
(sputnik)
Action. Reaction. He smacks her ass and she turns around to nail him square in the jimney. It was a good damn thing he was a metis and only needed it for pissing his rituals, or someone would be hurting....badly. His eyes close for a moment, watering up. Starting to swear in Russian at Yuliya, rubs a hand over his groin to feel for his balls, thinking they might have shrunk up into his body from the force of the blow. A low growl of warning rumbles from his throat at her. "Don't. Hit again. Need those."(james)
she plucks the smoke from the pack
he strategically diverts his attention to returning it to his pocket
both his hands held up and open in surrender
taking a deliberate step backwards and further out of kicking range
he may be a Fostern, but he knows better than to say anythingto either her plight, or the pain she just inflicted on Sputnik
not. going. there.
instead, he simply SNAPS the zippo open and offers a light to Yuliya
(yuliya)
She had that play innocent tone to her voice, even if her dark eyes were cold, and leaned in with the cigarette to light it and puff a few times, sucking in a good deep lingful of smoke. Held, savored, rush... exhaled with her warm breath and she settled back into the place she'd been in just moments before.The glance she gave the teary eyed Misha was cool and pointed then as she looked down to his aching groina dn up to his face once more. No, she wasn't weak by any means and she knew she wasn't dealing last harm. He knew she could if the provocation came, but likely not to him. He was a cousin afterall.
"Then think with right head, Misha, and I no be hitting."
(sputnik)
"Sputnik always think vhith right head. Bitch hit wrong one." he growls at her, though, his anger never went any farther than mild irritation. Such patience he must have had for to deal with her. The pain was gone just as quickly as it had been received. One of the beauties of his birth, perhaps. A thick arm snakes out to wrap around Yuliya from behind and pulls her back into him for a one-armed bear hug. He sets his hand atop her head and nookies her. "Should be careful. Make Sputnik horny. Might have to chew on Yuliya's shoes again."
(james)
the Fostern is doing his best to keep a straight face
mildly putting the Zippo back into his pocket
pointedly swallowing back any comment that would further ignite Yuliya's ire
even if the swollen moon above is just goading a confrontation"Dare I ask wh't yeh were doin' t' that poor buildin' ov'r there?"
change of subject
that's it, Jamey-boy
save your own ass(yuliya)
"If Misha want suit and money, he vhill be good, da?"That cigarette in her hand is frighteningly close to being snubbed out on Misha's arm as he bearhugs her and nookies. Some things one just had to endure from the bear at times, and this wasn't irritating too much, though she's not been the one for public affection of any sort. Too hard and cold for that.
"He crazy dog, cousin."
Oh she's prodding Misha's temper well and good tonight, riding that violence high still.
(sputnik)
Sputnik didn't release Yuliya from his hold. He kept her close to him, looking up at James with a wide grin. "Cleansing small taint from alleyway. Blights all over neighborhood, not good."(james)
"Should'a met our las' Theurge."offered in reply to the comment
he's yet to meet a "normal" Theurge, come to think of it
interesting concept, that"Wick'd mojo 'roun' these part'." nodded in concurrence with a glance thrown back to Smokey's disappearing direction "Though nev'r seen it done that way b'fore..."
(yuliya)
"Misha... need fleadip..."That cigarette hovering over any patch of skin in her reach now and she's becoming not a happy camper. It was burn him or some other self defense move. Thoughts pondering as she waits to see if he'll take the hint.
(sputnik)
"Sputnik must be creative in city. People vhill think Sputnik head case if don't cover up ritual's performance." he shrugs his shoulders, repliying to James.His sniffs the air, looking down at Yuliya as she stabs the cigarette into the back of his hand, which rested across her shoulder. Fingers tighten slightly, but his reaction doesn't change... much. "Bitch need charm school." he growls into her ear, lowering his head near hers.
(james)
"'ffective....."it's said with a thoughtful half-frown
a slight narrowing of the space between his brows
it's a true fact they have to be creative in the city
he's streetcorner performances worked out quite well for Bone Rhythms
they each have their own way"Good tactic."
any approval from a Fostern is good, right?
James remembers when he was a Cliath and needed the same
and whatever ways others choose to protect the Veil deserves reward
(or is he saying that to Yuliya?)
however, a shower would probably garner greater severance at this point
the Ahroun has been in some rank places, but Sputnik's rather ripe(yuliya)
"Like hell."Smirked response as she gave up and puffed her cigarette back into life before it went completely out, burn a useless gesture obviously. Oh well. She wasn't a weak stomach at least, though he was hitting a few unseen sore spots every so often. Thank god for being toughened up by years of the underworld.
(sputnik)
Sputnik snorts at Yuliya, he regards James with a small nod of appreciation of the Fostern's approval. He finally releases Yuliya from his arm, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Vhill need to go soon. Gone for night. Yuliya keep Una at home and in doors. Sputnik vhill not be around to protect either of you."(yuliya)
"Where go?"That does catch her attention, less bitchy coldness as she looks over at him, released to at least breath minus tight bearhug.
(james)
"Good idea giv'n curr'nt 'vents."seems the elder Gnawer is rather agreeable tonight
such a stark contrast to how he should be reacting on the full moon swelling above
it's all about the little things, right?
that's what has his weight shifting to take a step away"See yeh on the' full?"
he's got errands to run
after waiting for a reply
the raggedyman Ahroun makes his way back to the Riverfront(mark gaines)
Just one more look around the block. Wolves roamed wide over there territory, stalking the fringes with nose to the breeze for invading rivals, and worse.. rival predators. Those of the city were no different.Nostrils flared. The taint he was used to. Ignored. It clung to the area like the stench of urine and sex in a public restroom. The scab clung to him, like a soldier's camaflague. Urban wolf in sheep's clothing.
Leather jacket, cargo pants failed miserably to hid the powerful, muscled frame beneath their protective warmth. A black tobaggon-style knit cap clung tightly to his sculpted shaven scalp. Tanned white skin marked him for a life of priviledge that the ethnic minorities of this region did not enjoy. No matter if it was true. Facetted blue orbs blazed like the cauldron of boiling Rage within. The giveaway. The telltale spoiler to the end of the story that 'this was something different'. Something from the dim memory of humanity's past. The reason why they're afraid at night.
And he took them on to protect. Lucky eh?
(sputnik)
"Da, see on full." he replies to James, turning to look down at Yuliya. "Other side." he says simply to her, not expecting her to understand. "Must go speak with Mama Rat."
(yuliya)
Finsihing her cigarette, letting it drop where she ground it out, giving James a nod as he left and then looking at Misha. That sharp, cool gaze, but she wasn't angry at least."I watch her. Maybe duct tape to not hear catsquall music Be careful."
Thats as close to concern as she gets. Not a word mentioned for the fight she had earlier, or other matters that would distract him. How much did she hide? As much as she could.
Posted by james at December 07, 2003 12:00 AM
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