December 10, 2003.12.10.03. - making plans [jim] *me[chinatown]
(jim)
Jim sits on a curb in front of a run down chinese market flicking stones at a tin can in the street. the traffic was thin due to the chill and he himself wasn't far from shelter if it got more than he could stand(james)
it's the sound of boots
or more - the sound of boots stopping entirely too close for comfort
just to his left Jim is greeted by a pair of dull Cochrans poking out from beneath the tails of a tattered and pathworked trenchcoat wrapped as effectively as possible against the wind and around the lanky Ahroun
an upward glance would reveal a little white box of a side-order Chow Mein to go
(hey, James is in Chinatown....)
the Fostern's holding the still-steamy food out in offer(jim)
Jim looks up slightly surprised at the sounds and grins taking the food and digging in "Tristan said yeh'd show up 'ventually."(damon fulciano)
Damon gets off the red line and looks around the area. He walks walks over to a bus bench. He casually observes the "locals".(james)
James offers a crooked smile
too bad it will always be that way
and the battlescar that causes it shows up in his speech
jaw just not moving the way it's supposed to"Yeh.... got caught outta town, th'n a distraction a Paddy's."
hands mostly covered in thick gloves dig into the pockets of the trench
out comes one pack of Camels and a battered bronze zippo
seems like nothing more than a couple of bums enjoying life's meager pleasentries on a cold night(well, other than that Ahroun reaction to the barely past full moon, and all.... just keep smoking, Jamey-boy, keep your hands occupied so you don't rip someone's head off.... thaaat's a good boy)
(jim)
Jim nods and takes a cig setting aside the chinese, guesturing for the lighter and once given lights it up and looks back to james "So wha's th' word on th' street?"(damon)
Damon stands and walks toward the 'L' stop. He sits on the southbound bench and waits for the train to arrive. When the train shows up he boards and leaves.(james)
long cancer stick clenches between his teeth
flame bursts to life and smoke's sucked into lungs that will never blacken or rot
(at least, not by the Camel's fault, anyway, there are more dangerous things afoot)"Got Im'gen tellin' me it a pack a five'r more, n Tris' workin' a fin' out th' nex' poss'ble location." shoulders roll in a shrug, then he drops to a comfortable crouch beside the other Gnawer "But th' big ques'n is how we gonna prove it 'less we lucky 'nuff a drop in f'r dinner."
his Frankenweiler mentors would go grey if they heard his grammar now
(jim)
Jim shrugs "I foun' some black fur on one o the bodies the blue boys missed on their first time through. in an alley a few blocks from on o the raves. the p'lice are not onteh it that's good but we gotta stop it fore the rabid dog 'tack story stops it's magic. my alpha's a good tracker he;s gonna see if he can fin' out some info with his super sniffer. the rave.. yeh tristan tol' me bout it. if tha' is the place'n we gotta go. i says wait till someone reveals'm selves then we got big and scary and take em out."(james)
"Im'gen got fur, too. Dunno if it'll help." his head tilts, dreads swinging down over a shoulder, away from the path of exhaled smoke "Nobody in th' city know th' Rite?"(jim)
Jim shrugs "Hav'n found no one. is there even a rite? i mean eatin' folk tha's pretty twisted. sure lupus groo would call it th' law o nature an all that. i always thought mosto tha' type were a bit touched in th' head. i have a gut feelin there're red talon's involved but i can' prove it. i'm only a young'un not up on all the mojo."(james)
his chin dips in a slow nod"Rite a Manflesh. Oth'r that there' no way a tell 'less we catch 'em in the act a breakin' th' Ban..... 'n that won' be easy in a crowd a 300'r more kids at a Rave in a warehouse. Too many exit'. Too many poss'bles 'less they crazy 'nuff a go apeshit during th' lightshow. It'd be done'n ov'r with 'fore we even caught on." there's a pause, deep umber gaze swinging over to the Cliath "I'd be more worry 'bout it turnin' out a Camp, rather'n a rogue Talon pack."
(jim)
Jim nods "There's always that." he sits and takes a puff of the smoke "Signs i've found point teh a small group."(james)
"'n we ostracize' 'nuff....."that's more an offhand comment to finish the thought
he doesn't really want to think about what could happen if they're found to all be Gnawers"Wh' group?"
(jim)
Jim glances at james "Th' eaters. pack group same thin' if it were a whole camp there'd be more bodies i figger."(james)
"Oh." pay attention, James "Yeh.... fig're i'sa pack a five 'r six a least. Thought you had s'methin' more sp'cific." whoops."Dun' need a whole camp a make it rain blood'n the res've us." a thoughtful pause, filled with the final dregs of smoke from the Camel, then that's flicked into the gutter "Dun' think we got th' time it'd take me a git back a New York 'n try t' fin' s'meone a teach me th' Rite." and it's obvious he's too unfamiliar with this state to even know where to begin a petition, so.... "What're th' options oth'r'n stakin' out the rave'n hopin' one a them fuck' up?"
(jim)
Jim shrugs "Not a whole lot open is there? Only kin's goin in so's we angry folk don't tip em off. maybe a no moon or two. hell we don' even know which rave it is but we might get lucky. the raves happ'n round the same area and someone in the p'lice has th' sense teh keep it hush hush in the papers don' ask me how. maybe it's makin the leeches nervous too. who knows."(james)
here's where the ranked Ahroun tries a smirk on for size"This makin' ev'rybody nervous."
he's not happy with the proposed plan, either
seems a little too sketchy to be foolproof
and there's a good chance they'll spend the entire night waiting
and miss the golden opportunity
(especially if it's not the correct rave or night)"I'll try th' Chain, see'f I c'n come up wi' anything..... otherwi' guess we go wi' it."
(jim)
Jim nods "Do wha' yeh can. I'll see wha' i can learn teh at least see if there's a pattern or summat."(tristan)
Cloudy tonight, covering any hint of stars and the slowly shrinking form of Luna herself, leaving reflections of lights to shimmer and cause a glow over the city, though it’s not something realized or even though about when one is walking the streets. Due to the clouds, it’s cold, but not near as frigid as it had been for a few days there. Rain yesterday and today it smells suspiciously like snow on the horizon.Does anyone even know what snow smells like? Fresh and clean and wet and heavy and all things that don’t necessarily immediately make one think of scent, but just the same, one wiff and you know it’s coming. – Snow. Nature’s cleansing blanket.
Wind today though steals a bit of the impending falls thunder, whipping about legs and tangling curls into a completely unmanageable array, sneaking down the neck of his jacket, slicing through the warmth of knit sweater and the two layers underneath. Thermals under jeans and his flesh is still chilled – he’s been out here a while. A long while. Playing for his (and the pack’s – well, Kemps for sure. That boy is a bottomless pit! Shoulda been a Gnawer.) supper, days spent on the streets in Chinatown for variation, finding them generous as well. Thank goodness. Steps are quick, instrument swings at his side, shoulders hunched, and he’s wandering through toward home.
(james)
"Ah'ight." the nod rather decisive on the full moon's shoulders "I'll keep'n touch, th'n, 'n we'll shore up a plan 'bout that rave."once again he offers himself to the wind
or, at least, his dreads and coattails
(think it's time to get a winter hat, Jamey-boy)
much less the rapidly lowering temperature the six feet two inches between
shoulders throwing to hunch heavy collar up around his neck
(probably time to procure a scarf, too)(jim)
Jim nodded to him and said "I'll keep muh eyes an' ears open."(james)
another nod - Eagle trademark up this time
serves for whatever parting words the wind would have whipped from between them
fingers lift towards the frame of dreads surrounding his brow
and the Fostern snaps off a small salute before turning to find his way(tristan)
He’s not unaware of his surroundings, far from that in fact. As such he notes the movement of coattails and dreds ahead, and with a grin frees his hand from the depths of his pockets, fingerless gloves keeping his hand semi warm, the breath sliding across skin warming them farther before he places fingers in his mouth and lets loose a soft, yet carrying wolf whistle.Appropriate, of course.
Steps quicken and head James’ way to catch up with his friend.
Posted by james at December 10, 2003 12:00 AM
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