June 13, 2004.06.13.04. - ... unless you can dedicate kin [plus decker-kemp-roxy-yuliya] *pd/*p[riverfront - cont'd]
(decker)
"Ain't ever wanna hear that again," mutters Decker, bringing up the back. They had a ride again. Not Decker's. Not even Kemp's. Some beat-up old rental pickup, the cheapest in the rental-equipment yard: nothing but four wheels, a cab, a bed and a stick shift. Radio is nonexistent and A/C is a distant dream. $15 a day, gas not included. Still, it was better than nothing, 'specially when one's carting around a large amount of boards.Decker's been working on a new pet project lately. Out back behind the factory, there's a ramshackle little shack coming up, all naked wood, nails and trusses. He needs his private time, damn it.
Dropping the tailgate to the old truck with a squeal, he starts pulling out planks and 2x4's. "'Ey," raising his voice to call after the younger Fenrir, "earn yer livin', boy." Underhanded, he tosses one of the beams at him.
(kemp)
Grunting, one foot going back for balance against the beams tossed at him. "Crap! I'll come get it." Fuck that hurt. "Now I can really feel the sweat between my cheeks." Turning to lug the board around back.(decker)
"Gonna feel my fuckin' boot on yer ass too if ya don't shut up 'bout it." Decker hoists a stack of wood beams over his shoulders and starts after Kemp, turning sideways to fit through the door. It's humid and hot in Chicago today, as it has been for the past few weeks. Temperature's in the 80s, maybe 90s. The lake humidity makes it a lot worse.Inside the factory it's dark, but not exactly cooler. In some ways the close confines of the pipes and boilers, the darkness, makes the heat worse. Suffocating. Though they can't see James and Imogen, sounds echo and carry in the high-ceilinged space; each can hear the others.
"'Round back," he tells Kemp, nodding his chin in the direction of the back door for lack of free hands.
(kemp)
"I'm going that way." Sheesh, was he blind? Lugging the beams towards the back, trying not to trip while his eyes adjusted. Thinking it best he not mention who's boxers he had kiped that morning.(imogen)
A brief scoff, almost a laugh, "They do at that," agreement.Her bruises will linger, brief splashes of black and blue, smudges of pale purple across her skin. Her fingers flex, flickering as she turns her head toward the sound of Decker and Kemp toward the front of the factory. Voices and the sound of a tail gait squealing, her brow contracting briefly at the sound, which no matter how cheap the rental was never a good sign.
A smirk and maybe she can faintly catch Kemp's words, or at least part of them, through distance and open door. "I don't want t'know," muttered as she straightens, making a brief attempt at tidying her hair, chaos in the heat. Her hair is always chaos, flames and fire, escaping from braids and buns and coils low on her neck. The humidity makes it worse. It's hot in the factory, the suffocation oppressive, and she wipes a hand across her face again, exhaling air sharply, as if it might assist the breezeless atmosphere within. It doesn't. Cotton breathes well, and her sleeveless shirt (tattoo shifts across the curve of her bicep, half alive on her flesh, a brand belonging to a tribe to which none of the eagles claim kinship), and loose fitted pants help, but still, the air feels like it sticks to her.
Her head tilts as she turns her head to look at James over her shoulder a coppery eyebrow lifting as her attention divides toward the sounds of the Fenrir Modi and Rotagar struggling with their bounty, not quite visible, "S'there water wort' drinkin' 'round 'ere?"
(james)
truck rolls up out back
boards clatter and words snarl
footsteps echo in the factory's cavernous interior
yup.... boys are home"Water's ques'n'ble....." called from where James is bent over an Igloo cooler, rummaging in mostly melted ice, handful of it's packed into the shirt and used as a quick means of cooling off, the rest shoved aside until he can reach a can..... pause before that hand darts deeper and pulls out a plastic bottle "Gotta love tha'boy."
one remaining bottle of water tossed to Imogen
Tristan's denmotherlyness saving the day once againby the time two Fenrir make it back to the rental truck
there's two beers sitting on the tailgate
another load of lumber hauled off in the Gnawer's wake(decker)
It's like a maze in the factory. Pipes running every which way. Overhead. Along the sides. Slung high above. Twisting up, twisting away from one another, coming together, joining, separating. The pipes alone would take a year to memorize. Then there were the conveyor belts. The boilers. The vats and racks whose purpose is obscured with the dust of anonymity. A thousand years from now these relics will look incomprehensible to the dominant culture of the time -- if one even remained.Through the screen of pipes and belts the two groups can glimpse one another in flashes and hints. The redhaired englishwoman and her raggedy companion. The boys from Alabama and their bounty -- or the boy from Alabama, at least, and his younger packmate. He realizes, oddly, that he doesn't know where the fuck Kemp comes from.
"Where ya from anyhow, Kemp?" grunted, as he steps out the back door into the blinding lake-hazed sunshine of the late afternoon-into-evening. Tacked on, "Jus' dump 'em here," and he throws the stack down, wood clapping on wood, the way an olympic weightlifter throws down the weights when he's finished.
Then he's heading back to the truck to discover the cold beers left there. Or as cold as it'll get on a day like this. "Heh," says Decker -- appreciative.
(roxy)
The directions weren't hard to follow as they were pointed out from the passenger reclined back in the Lancer that makes its way through the Riverfront. Roxanne motioned for to a spot about a block from the factory to pull into it. Relatively, quiet and the car would be left alone.She steps out of the car after it parked, looking down the street towards the factory and leans into grab her leather jacket, tossing it over one shoulder. She waits for Yulya to join her, before walking towards home.
Her gait slow, boots scuffing over the cement. The stains of blood and grime, hers and something else's, left dark blotches in her torn clothes. Peroxide dreads pulled back from her scarred face into a ponytail.
yuli)
Yulya drives in smooth easy assurance of knowing exactly what the Lancer will do whenever she's behind the wheel. Following the directions given by Roxy, she eventually parks. Sliding from the car she's forgone her leather jacket in the heat, taking a chance with ehr life in a way, as she left behind a level of the protection she wore almost constantly. It was a pair of ripped jeans, the bandages across her thighs clean ones, instea dof the scraps of tee shirt they'd been last night. Knowing how much Cliona had done for Roxyk she'd brushed off any healing, knoing she'd be fine all too soon, with new scars to show for it likely. Whats left of her tee coveres whats important but not the old scars anymore, the claws marks on ehr lower back and side and the roughly triangular shaped one on her upper chest. Dark hair was in a tight ponytail to match Roxy as she walked along with her for the warehouse. If she was armed, it was well hidden. Her movement seemed only a trace inhibited though... she bore pain well.(kemp)
Dumping the load on the pile with a groan and one hand dragged across his brow, leaving a smear there of dirt. "Um, I was with you, remember?" Maybe his packmate was losing it?(imogen)
"Ta," smirked as she plucks the bottle from the air, the condensation causing it to slip against her moist hands and making necessary a second hand to reach up and assist the other, catching the butt of the bottle before it can slide.Cracking the cap, the kinfolk comes out with a brief glance toward the truck and then the efforts of the Garou in hauling it and comes to the conclusion that she cannot effectively help without risking putting out one of their eyes. What they were carrying likely weighs more than she does.
Content or at least inclined to watch, instead, then.
(decker)
Decker scowls at Kemp. Smartass, the look says. "Meant 'fore that. Before Jersey." He picks up another load of lumber, cleaning out the truckbed, and pushes half the load into Kemp's arms. Then, snagging up the beer, he starts inside. Stops, turning slowly to face the street when the Lancer comes down the street toward the factory with clear intentions to pay a visit.You don't see cars coming this way much. You almost never see a car that nice. When they do, it's almost always friend or foe, and never a stranger.
(kemp)
Holding on tighter with the added load. He'd not touch the beer himself, even if he could pick it up. Grunting out. "Jersey man, I came from Jersey, where else?" A grunt and frown towards the car before he was heading back with the added load.(james)
there really isn't much of a difference between inside and outside temperatures
one's the humidly stuffy climate of space heated by greenhouse effect and exertion
the others fueled by a nearby lake and the sun's relentless downpour
at least, inside, James can see
after his eyes adjust anyway
wood tumbles to clatter, and he's back at the truck"Lissen to'm talk." chin jerks up towards the youngest Eagle, juuuust as he reaches out to balance the pushed load so Kemp can adjust it "Ain' i' obv'ous?"
kid's accent is almost as bad as James' own
but since the truckbed's empty
he'll... uh.... carry that last beer in
teamwork.
that's it.(roxy)
They could almost be twins, this pair. Clean bandages covering battle wounds, showing through ripped leather and denim clothes. Roxy's shirt seems far worse than Yulya as the shredded tanktop barely managed to cover heavy swells of her chest. The thin cotton no longer white, but an off brownish-red that stuck to her skin from the humidity. The hard lines of lean abdominal muscles exposed, baring a fresh pink scar just above the navel.Looked what the cat dragged in. The sounds of coming from the truckbed and the back of the factory caught her attention, she looks over at Yulya, nodding. "Sound's like th' boys are home. Might as well come say hi." She heads around the back following the sounds of activity.
(kemp)
"Um, thanks." A nod to James for the balancing help. Each step short and quick with the load so he could get it through and dumped fast. "That sweat is starting again!" Calling over his shoulder.(decker)
(Decker's still out front, btw)Ain'tcha never lived anywhere else, Decker wants to ask. Having driven across the country multiple times himself, he can't quite fathom the idea of someone who'd willingly stay in one city for most his life. There's something inherently restless at the root of the Modi; maybe he shoulda been a damn Strider.
...Nah.
We oughta talk, he mentions over totemphone, casual. 'Bout Erik. But for now, he turns, the last two or three planks over one shoulder, to face the two scuffed and damanged kinfolk trudging up the drive. Some inappropriate flicker of dark humor crosses his mind: they were starting to fit right in.
"Roxy," he nods up at her, "look like shit."
(yuli)
Despite weather, its black yulya wore and though it hung in half array on her lithe body now, it sowed little of the blood that existed on it. The smell was faint now though... maybe sensitive noses could tell. They were both a bit worse for the wear, and neither seemed to mind.Just another day on the underside.
"Da, if you like." Yulya is NOT the social one typically, but her dark eyes skate back over to Decker as he addresses Roxy. She's silent for the time being again, the Russian accent of her earlier words may have been caught. Few knew of this cold kin Sputnik had once claimed outside her Tribe and the few contacts she'd maintained in Chicago
(imogen)
"Yer all yankees," notes the redhead at James as he walks past her, smirking briefly as she watches Kemp walk by laden with the last of the beams and then James walking by, considerably less burdened as she takes a swallow of her water. From her angle, she cannot see out front, but hear it, somewhat, her attention flicking briefly toward the sound of the Modi speaking.James was inside. Kemp was inside. she was inside.
Either Decker had gone off the deep end, or someone else had approached.
Brilliant deduction skills, Dr. Slaughter.(roxy)
"Decker..." She responds, nod up returned, "I feel like shit." She casts a look to the Russian kin, smirking slightly. "We were out playin' ya could say." Walking up the rest of the way until she wasn't too far from the Modi now.Roxanne didn't stop to chat, "Ya remember Yuliya right? Alright if she comes in for a drink at least. Thought I might be hospitable to the femme."
(james)
James' reply is a just as casual grunt over the totem line
his attention is otherwise on Imogen"Ga'd'n Sta'e boy" nod jerking towards Kemp "I'm th' Yank."
smirked in a somewhat playful grin
cause he knows all American accents sound the same to the good Doctor
regardless of her brilliant deduction skills(kemp)
Coming back through with a nod for both James and Imogen. "I'm a pack mule." He was sweating and heading for the front again. What the fuck is going on with whacko Erik? Sending the question across the link adding. Ask Roxy about chasing Fomori and calling stupid Random about it. "I got a river running down between my ass cheeks."(decker)
Later, the one word reply re: Erik.Glancing Yuliya over, he eventually nods again, up again, slightly. "C'mon." Turning, he almost brains both of them with the wide swing of the wood posts over his shoulder. Heading in, he kicks the door open again as it starts to swing closed behind him.
Aloud, over his shoulder, "Chasin' fomori 'n callin' Random?"
(yuli)
"Da... playing." Cool irony in that word, now that the pangs of fear were past for Roxy's badly mauled state. Little impinged on her conscience anymore. Decker given a once over of his own, glad she was a bit light to the feet on a good day, and on this medocire daym enough to avoid being hit by poles, follows along.Dark eyes were wary though, because it was a new place. maybe last night had made her moreso.
(kemp)
"Is that the last of it?" Nodding to the posts Decker had on his shoulder. Green eyes narrowing slightly on Yuliya and then Roxy. He wasn't going to say anything yet, but it wouldn't be long before he told them exactly what he thought and he didn't give a flying fuck what they thought themselves.(roxy)
Shoulders rolls back in a quick lean, moving out of the way of the swinging wood beams to not be hit by them. She makes a face at Decker's back, shaking her head a little."I called James' cellular phone, thinking Rumor still had it to let her know what I was up to," she says, hanging back a little as the door kicks open. She waits until Decker clears it, before entering. "I wasn't sure what we huntin' down. Just went to do a little investigatin' and found a fomor. It's dead. The place we were at needs to be cleansed before it breeds more shit. End of story."
(decker)
Decker grunts affirmative to Kemp: it was the last of it, yeah. A jerk of his head toward the living quarters - the sofa and table and other assorted junk clustered in a circle in a small clearing in the steel jungle of the factory - indicates to Yuliya and Roxy where they might find the others."James, you got tha cleansin' rite?" 'Cause he don't. Decker was strictly frontline. Point. Unleash. Destroy. Move on.
Decker, himself, heads out back to dump the last of the wood down next to the rest. They hear the clatter, and a curse as one or more lands on his foot. A little later, he's coming back in, favoring the right foot a bit.
(james)
"She bet'r still 'ave it."barked from the Ahroun that's off thattaway from center
choice spot picked near Dr. Slaughter for a place to park it
except he's sunk on the ground
drawing what chill he can from the concrete slab floor"Only if they been eatin' manflesh."
apparently, cleansing rites are one of the things they kept Livingston around for
(kemp)
"Oh fucking bullshit." Pausing right there with his shirt hiked up in both hands to rub the sweat and dirt from his face. Belly showing and a large star shaped scar on his ribs. "You called the girl and had her freaking out by telling her you were going after a Fomori. She asked me what the fuck it was. She was going to try and fucking find you!" A another shake of his head and he was shoving the shirt back down.(yuli)
She'd been fairly ignorant of any plans Roxy'd made aside from Yulya's inclusion in it. Listening silently for the moment as she came inside the large warehouse, and glanced around more.Kemp's outburst got a slight frown from the otherwise quiet russian girl. Thoughts withheld for the moment as she looked aside at her partner in crime. "Friend of yours? I feel the love, da..." Then the smirk and she heard James.
"Gutterboy... where been you?" Apparently Yulya knows James, her eyes going in his direction. "Cliona will take care of... she can do. Did it months ago, for last time we found infestation."
(imogen)
A brief smirk passes her mouth, glancing at James and his explanations in comparison to her generalizations. Old argument. Their accents sounded close enough to her that she could mistake one for another, including a New Yorker for an Alabama boy.But she's called Australian from time to time. Irish. Scottish. Welsh. Tit for tat.
The kin stands while James sits, her shoulders resting against the cement wall for the same reasons that James sits upon the cement floor, drawing cool air toward her heated skin.
Eyes pass over Roxy, then Yuliya, the doctor's eyes flickering wider for a moment before resettling as she glances toward Kemp and his outburst, a frown drawing across her brow.
(kemp_
His own narrowed look was right back at Yuliya. Bristling like a stomped on pole cat right now and barely risisting grabbing his package with the offer for them to blow him.(decker)
Rumor this. Random that. Funny, Decker hasn't even met the girl. Beer still hanging from one hand, he hangs a left and comes into the living area, where the others were. Anyway, he had his own concerns --Brow knits into ravines and folds, a full-on glower that could drop a grown man dead of fright. He closes in on Imogen and grabs her by the hand, lifting it into the light. The slender wrist, the fine skin. The bruise.
Way too quiet: "Fuck's that."
(roxy)
Roxanne starts to head towards her little nook of the factory, where she kept her shit and slept on occasion. The voices of the others heard as Kemp's outburst hit her back and caressed over her ears. Not all the plans of the endeavor were laid out to the Russian kin."I didn't come right out and say I was fomori huntin' I didn't know what the fuck we were dealin' with. I said there might be." this tossed back over her shoulder to Kemp. Roxanne drops her jacket on the mattress, crouching down to find her duffle bag and drag it over.
"Rumor still has the phone, James," She tosses back towards the area of the others, ignoring them for the moment as Roxy pulls off the torn remnants of her tank top. Back to them all with a quick flash of skin and digs around in the back until she finds another one to slip on.
(james)
"Been 'roun'. Recov'rin' from a las' time you took me outa eat."tossed back at his kin with lopsided grin
neither of them were known for regularity of schedule
but easiest to pawn things off with humorthen there's that all but silent hiss
Imogen's standing against the wall
James is sitting on the floor
that puts Decker... oh... right behind him
James is wishing for a hole to open up IN the floor
Roxy's ascertation met with a toast of his half-empty canthe Ahroun's gonna busy himself with picking what should he splinters out of the raw spot on his shoulder
only problem is those are bits of dirt and rock and grime from the factory floor
not shards of board propped there most recently to carry inside from thet ruck(kemp)
Cold and flat, his words echoing through the place. "Why?"(kemp)
"Ya got a brain, right? Why the fuck call the kid, just to tell her shit when she was just going to get stirred up and worried? Why call her when you knew she would be upset? Why call unless to do just that, cause if it was for information purposes or help, then you'd fucking tell people before you left and not leave some vague. Oh I might be hunting fomori. Message with the girl. Don't fucking try and tell me otherwise."(yuli)
"Cuz it need be done..."Maybe Yulya doesn't know him but she moves over into the more lived in area, where Imogen ['sup last tme I saw you was with a bullet Tristan put in ya], James and Dekcer had convened.
Yulya then looks over at Kemp. Its always the young ones who get angsty. Yulya could seem so old at times, for all her scant twenty some years.
She let Roxy field the rest. These were her people after all. IF anyone claimed Yulya, that was a rarity.
(roxy)
Kemp continues to yell, Roxanne doesn't turn around to acknowledge it. She hears every word of it, new shirt replaced. The duffle bag closed up, she reaches into her jacket. Removing the new pistols, ejecting the empty clips, only to replace them with new ones. The guns slipped back into the holsters in her jacket."It ain't mah intentions to scare Rumor, Kemp. I had to call someone and let'em know what the fuck I was up to. Unless y'all don't want me callin' in to let ya know I'm doin' somethin' halfcocked and crazy like that shit again."
She turns around to look at Kemp, "'Sides, you were the one I wanted to talk, Kemp, you handed the phone to her. To busy talkin' sex shop with fuckin' Butta."
(kemp)
"I didn't have the fucking phone and don't give me that shit! You called and just oh so vaguely mentioned you were looking for Fomori. Well big fuckin, ta do for you! Next time I want to let someone know where I am, just in case, I'll try that method. Oh hey dudes, I might be off, dying somewhere. And hey, who knows the fuck where. Just look all over the fuckin world for my ass." Huffing with a snort after that. "I give up, I fucking don't give a flying fuck." Stomping for the door.(imogen)
Her wrist caught in Decker's hand, forced into better light, drawing her away from the wall the defined muscles of her bare arm clearly tense in the hued discoloured light as he inspects the discolouration of her hand.She has more strength than most. She can withstand quite a bit more than she should. Decker's glower tightens her, but while fear is a part of it, frustration has its own heavy dose.
"A bruise," she answers, swiftly quietly, sarcastically. "I think we've had this conversation before." Small and slender, Decker dwarfs her with his height. It's never been nearly so poignant (for those who don't know her well, at least) as when he holds her wrist in his hand and it is a bone he could easily break.
"time and a place, don't you think?" a pointed glance toward Kemp stomping off from the injured or recently healed Roxanne.
She's speaking quietly. It would be deliberation to hear her. But those who do might catch from her tone that she doubts he will agree with her assessment that this is neither the time, nor the place.
(decker)
If she jerked hard enough, he'd let her go for fear of breaking her arm. She knows that. But maybe it's the fear that he would, in fact, break her arm rather than let her go that keeps her from yanking away. Or maybe it's that godforsaken dignity of hers."See that," he replies, sarcastically slow. "Fuck fr--?" And pivoting, over his shoulder, "Kemp - wait." Wasn't easy that almost the whole damn pack was in the same place.
Turn back. Another beat; another long hot stare. Then he drops her wrist hard and turns.
She trustworthy? -- totemphone, mainly to James, regarding Yuliya. Decker wasn't the type to talk about their missing fuckin' alpha in front of strangers.
(james)
there's a brewing storm behind him
there's a mini-tempest storming off
there's the eye of the storm casually changing her top
and there's...... beer toasts up again.... hey Yuliya, help yourself to the coolerDiscreet. Blood. meaning she is, as far as James knows Just don't let her take you out for dinner.
(kemp)
He stopped. Still bristling, wanting to put his foot up an ass and his fist through the door. Breathing heavily with the effort to hold it inside. Nothing made him crazier than stupid damned shit.(roxy)
Her head drops down, shaking it slowly. Peroxide dreads slither across her shoulders and back, pivoting around to face the mattress and toss the duffle bag back into its corner, after pulling out a clean pair of jeans. She stretches out to flop down upon her ass on the mattress, leaning over to remove her boots.She doesn't say anything else, looking up every now and then at everyone. It was rare to see almost the entire pack here in one place.
(yuli)
Yulya slides over to the cooler, pulling out beer for hserself and one to hand off to Roxy. The fresh bandages over her thighs white under the sliced black jeans. She moved with minimal problem from the wounds beneath thankfully."So James... found Indian place. Will burn your stomach inside out I bet." her smikr as she broguth Roxy a beer.
(decker)
Funny: he can even grunt on totemphone.Then, aloud, "So Erik's gone. Don't know where tha fuck he is, says don't follow. Got a garbled message 'bout Pyrell's daughter, 'n his name. Ma... what was it 'gain?" He looks to his packmates for help.
(kemp_
Jaw clenched tight enough to have the tendons jumping just beneath the skin. He was going to totally blow with the wrong word said. Unnecessary shit flipping him out. Not trusting his voice to answer Decker's question barely heard through the throbbing pound of his heart in his ears.(rozy)
"Sounds appetizin'." She remarks dryly to Yuliya, reaching up to accept the offered beer. The can brought up to the side of her neck, using it to cool off her hot skin. Figured she'd be used to the humidity by now."Erik's missin'? Is that even possible?"
(james)
"Wha'..... you still tryin' a kill me?" there's a smirk mirroring Siberia's "Mo'dah'goes. 'R s'mthin' like 't."(imogen)
Hot glare. Cold stare, her dark eyes reflecting the light into which he'd drawn her hand.He drops her wrist, and she steps back, lifting her other hand to draw a deep swallow of her half finished water, listening to the conversation, almost absently.
(yuli)
The can of beer opened and Yulya took a long pull, swallowing it easily without face or cough. Hardened drinker thanks to Sputnik's years of tutlage."You big boy James... your wolfy tummy can take it. You gnawer, da?"
Didn't know who Erik was but listened some... nor anything about Pyrell. Yulya might well be the only one ignorant of what was going on, ensconsed in ehr underworld as she was.
(decker)
Decker snorts, a wry smirk tossed at Roxy. "Yeah. Really missin' this time." Glance at James, nod. "Modagos. So it's just us three now. Plus tha kin. Imogen, Roxy 'n Tris. We stick together much as possible. Ain't losin' no more'a you. Anyone know'a gifts, rites, talens ta keep us in touch with tha kin? We don't got a Godi 'n we's feelin' that bad. So keep yer eyes out fer a good one."Firs' thing we do is finish this Pyrell business. Figger out what the fuck tha Blood Eagle meant by 'use tha daughter'. 'N 12th floor --"
Breaking off as Yuliya and James keep bickering, "Shut up."
--well then. Back to business. "Second thing we do, we go git Erik back."
So much for not following.
(roxy)
Roxanne inhales a slow breath, she had an answer to his first question. Tricky part was obtaining it. "There is somethin' called a Bonding Rite. It's only found in a certain camp of the Glass Walkers, which incorporates kinfolk into packs temporarily. The rite allows kin to bond to the pack's totem, gainin' its benefits and communications temporarily. I know of its existance because I was told about it before th'split of th'Knights. You find a Glass Walker willin' to cough up that right and teach ya. Then ya got a way to communicate with us kin." she pulls the beer can from her neck, feeling the moist condensation slide down her throat. Fingers crack it open, pulling the can up to her mouth to sip.(james)
attention diverts for a just a moment
slipping a glance towards Yuliya
casual lopsided grin twisted free
just as strong hands twist empty can into a much more space-saving shape"S'on."
what did he just say about not letting the kin take one out to eat?
(gonna regret this one, you are, Jamey-boy)
glare shot at the Modi equivalent to Fuck off. Unlike you I can concentrate on two things at once.
but James knows better than to say it ........at least infront of the kinhis head shakes to the rest
unless one can dedicate a kin
he's falling short on rites today"Rum'r go' my phone, 'n Yuli's here nah....." chin jerks over towards his counterpart in bickering "S'all th' kin I got'n town nah." shoulders roll in a shrug "Know who's'iz daught'r?"
(yuli)
"Need new phone... or many?" Yulya of the connections. Shes not your typicall BoneGnawer."Can get you things to keep connection that way. Phone, pager, fuckin' pds if you want..."
((PDA, not pds, and I gotta runa... assume she hangs around kinda being smirky and a tad helpful for Roxy adn james sake?))
(decker)
"Bondin' Rite?" Decker echoes, frowning. "Which camp?" There's reluctance in his voice. He ain't met a Walker he's liked yet. 'Cept Rune, but Rune didn't count.Then to James, a shake of his head. "Ain't know nothin' you don't know." They all heard him. And his garbled message. 12th floor. Daughter. Pyrell and Modagos. "Ain't even know where ta-- y'think she's on tha 12th floor?"
Why the fuck would anyone keep their daughter locked on the 12th floor of their building?
(mogen)
A steady gaze rests on Roxanne as she speaks, no reflection of what she thinks echoed in the finely carved planes of her face.After a minute, she steps away from the wall and walks to where she'd left her cell phone,note pager and jacket, pulling out a note pad with small pen hooked in, scrawling something quickly across it, as the rest continues to discuss.
(roxy)
Roxanne thinks for a moment, racking her brain. "Dies Ultimae camp. I'm ain't too sure if there's any in Chicago or not. Ya'd have to talk to Binary on that one." if they wanted to bother with such a task."It's worth gettin' yar hands on, Decker, if ya want to rely on non-technical commications." Cobalt-blue gaze swings over the others, catching Imogen in her line of sight.
(james)
there's a nod, thoughtful, not expecting much more
exchanging beer for smoke as something to occupy his hands
James is a notorious lightweight, indeed, but it should mean something when even he's being this cautious"Maybe." another shrug of deeply scarred shoulders, accompanied by smokey trail of absent wave "We bankin'on she's hum'n?"
he wouldn't be surprised if "daughter" was the easiest and simplest form of commnication whatever the fuck it was on the 12th floor that may hopefully be a key
"Bes' I c'n do b'yon' tha's dig inna city record.... 'n take up Yuli's offer a tech's out f'r th' time bein."
(kemp)
Seething, not saying a word because what he said would be point blank and honest. Not something some would want to hear. Standing across the room near the door like he was at the starting gate, waiting for the gun to go off.(decker)
"Diaz Alltimay," Decker grunts, nodding. Didn't like Binary's gang much -- arrogant fuckin' Urrah. (Like he was one to talk.) "James," PR mission #223, "find out if tha Warder's theurge's got the Rite. Don't hit Binary's crew up 'less we gotta. Don't trust that Spider fuck. Smiles too much. Fights too l'il."Raising his voice to reach the Rotagar who was having a bad day of his own, "Kemp. Run yer mouth."
And then James again: a shake of his head. "Ain't bankin' on nothin'." Pyrell managed to shoot three Garou sons out of his loins. Decker wasn't gonna bet daughter was anything less than riproarin' fomor, if not BSD. Or both. Or abomination. Fuck knows. "Wyrmfoe's puttin' most'a us on front lines come Friday. So we go fer tha daughter, we do it beforehand 'r not at all. 'll talk ta Barny 'bout it."
(roxy)
"What are goin' to do? 'Sides, bein' stuffed into a closet and told to stay put." Her eyes flick over to Kemp waiting for what he had to say.[cont'd]
Posted by james at June 13, 2004 12:00 AM