plastered.

[Gina McClaren] *Cabrini was no place for a girl like Gina to be walking alone. Thugs prowled the streets like predators in the long grasses of the savanna, scenting for prey that was weaker or sickly to bring down. Pimps cruised slowly in low-riding caddies, eyes on their women, minds on their profit. And the women, oh the women. Stalking the streets in boots as high as their self esteem was low, spreading venereal disease to overworked housewives with every hasty slam of a john's car door.

Gina shouldn't be walking alone. Gina isn't walking alone. A pair of stiletto thin blades tucked in the sleeves of her jacket keep her company, and give her the confidence to walk back to her hotel from the home of the Get widow she was visiting. Red jacket a beacon, but no more so than the whisper of strider blood carried along with each swing of wide hips. Road dust, spices, and the faint underpinning of owl to accompany dark skin and long hair. Kohl rimmed eyes taking in her surroundings carefully. Confident - not stupid*

[Remy de Tournieres] Sunday night's not a traditional night for drinking, but then very little about Remy is strictly traditional. So there he is, under a blown-out streetlamp -- his big grey-and-blue ski jacket mostly grey in the shadows, the collar snapped up to his nose and the hood pulled forward over his head. He's facing the wall, one hand planted on the icy brick. He ignores the lowrider rumbling past behind him, ignores the calls of a hooker down the street hawking her wares. He might just be too plastered to realize they're there.

Even if it weren't for his distinctive wide-legged stance, the positioning of his free hand, it'd soon be unmistakable to poor passing pedestrian Gina to notice Remy's taking a good long piss against the foot of the wall. He's also humming tunelessly to himself under his breath, muttering a word or two here and there as they come to him. And occasionally, he snickers at himself.

Any woman, particularly a confident but unstupid woman who's seen her share of trouble, would be crossing the street to get away from him now. Before she gets a chance to step off the curb, though, Remy abruptly throws back his head and bellows:

"Fuck ME, I needed to piss! YEAH!"

[Gina McClaren] JAYSUS.

*One word, in a voice that on a person from a more respectable background would slot them for a life as a songstress or politician. It slips out in shock before Gina can call it back. Remy's pure joy at his own urinary release startling a pikey. She's unsure whether to be alarmed or impressed, taking a blind step back in case the drunken fool turns and marinates her well worn boots, and knocking over a dented trashcan with a clatter. *

Jaysus fookin christ.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] You know, when you put a bullet in a giant squishy suckery wurm thingy and it just so happens to be the bullet that put said thing down, you tend to get a confidence boost. (Let's not argue over the fact that she basically tapped the thing after three ahrouns had ripped the shit out of it. That's TOTALLY not the point, and besides, who the hell are you to say? You weren't there. So nyah.)

Anyway, where were we? Oh, right. So yeah, kill a wurm monster thing, get a confidence rush. And when your confidence is already near the point that people call you foolhardy (if they're high-talking Silver Fangs, anyway...most just call you fucking nutrs), that confidence boost is probably NOT a good thing. It's liable to get you killed.

Hey look! Walking target, making her way down the street. Sarita's dressed in her usual duster and a little bit of extra OOMPH in her "I own these streets" walk. She doesn't really own the streets, but she's willing to lease. That can be negotiated later. She takes a drag off her cigarette, humming that new Lonely Island song about having just had sex...even though she didn't. It makes it ironic, see.

As she walks along, she heard Remy's roar, and looks that way. She also sees Gina and hears her, and she crosses the street without looking both ways (see? FOOLHARDY!) to get over to her kinfolk. "Hola, you."

[Remy de Tournieres] [btw folks, don't wait on me. i'm operating on 3.5 hrs of sleep and wonky as shit *LOL*]

[Gina McClaren] Och, fookin hola.

*Gina's accent mangles the spanish word into something closer to "Hula", pikey not caring one wit as she puts a trashcan to rights. Streets were filthy enough without her dumping a full can across the road - still, she doesn't exactly tidy what fell out so much as put the thing upright. There were needles in there, she was willing to bet her shirt on it. The slight chill of cloudy night has caramel cheeks pinking coral, annoyance setting a brightness to dark eyes. Steamy breath puffs from her lips, a loop of deep chestnut hair rising and falling as she attempts to huff it away from her face. Belatedly, the pikey looks to traffic, and back to Sarita.*

Gintae gi' yerself het by a damn car. Ye kain tha?

[Remy de Tournieres] Remy's back stays turned. He doesn't seem to care that he scared the Jaysus -- the Jaysus fookin Christ, to be exact -- out of some passing Pikey, either. He finishes his piss, and when he's done there's a sizeable patch of melted snow at the corner of the building, which he looks at with some pride.

"Hah." And he laughs at himself, uneven little chuckles under his breath, swaying. "Nice."

Then he's tucking away, zipping up. When he turns around his gait is loose and heavy: too much strength, not enough coordination. He looks at Gina and Sarita with some surprised.

"The fuck. Haven't you heard of -- of giving a man a little privacy?"

A yard or so sideways from his makeshift urinal, Remy lets his back thump heavily against the wall. Tugs the collar down from his mouth and pushes the hood back. Even completely wasted he's a sight for sore eyes. The world's too blurry to look at with two eyes, though, so he closes the left one, peering at the females through the other.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She grins widely to Gina as she crosses the street and gets scolded. One imagines that the Latina woman wouldn't mind getting hit by a car. It's just another adventure after all, and she's all about adventure. Besides that...

"Let 'em hit me." She winks as she hops up on the sidewalk. "If I'm lucky it'll be a Porsche, and I can dent their Eurotrash piece of shit AND sue them for bookoo bucks."

She takes a drag off of her cigarette and looks over at Remy. The grin widens, and she gives a light shrug. "I have, but I don't believe in it. I'm a priv-atheist." It comes out sounding like prive-atheist.

[Gina McClaren] *The curvy strider kin snaps her head around in a double take. Well now, the man looked like a drunken slug from the back, but from the front, he was hardly unpleasant to look at. That was a shocker, like realizing your dreaded highschool math teacher was actually a part time stripper, and was good at it. Sarita is spared whatever else the churlish kin was no doubt going to cluck at her about, as Gina darts a dark eyebrow up at the drunken hotness.*

Lookin like ye dae darlin, reckon ye dinnae need any privacy. Asides, tha's why thes area yer takin a wizzer en es called "Public". Awn account o ets nae "private." Ye catchen wha ah'm sayen tae ye?

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Gina scolding the pretty Fenrir man seems quite amusing to Sarita. Not that the category of "Things that Amuse Sarita" is a particularly exclusive club, but...okay, misisng the point. The point is, she grins a little and shifts her weight to one hip, exhaling a drag of smoke.

"I think the kids today call that 'being pwned.' That's what I hear, anyway."

[Remy de Tournieres] The Strider kin's mouth opens...

...and what comes out may as well be gibberish to Remy. Shoulderblades heavily to the wall, feet planted wide for balance, jacket still rumpled up where he'd fumbled it aside, he sort of just stares at her blankly. A few seconds go by after she finishes. Then he computes that last sentence, at least.

"No." He shakes his head for emphasis. "I have no idea what just came out of your mouth." He turns that one dark eye to Sarita -- the other's still closed, as if too much depth in the world would result in his harfing up his cheap booze -- "Is she one of yours? She smells like one of yours. Can you translate?"

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] A little shrug to Remy and she chuckles. "I think I can do that, yeah. Rough translation, chico... 'You wan't privacy, don't drop trou in public. No matter how much some of the lay-dees may appreciate it."

[Gina McClaren] *There's a certain fire to Remy that Gina's only just beginning to register. Coupled with his comments to Sarita as to her smell, a goodly portion of the gutter-snipe's own incomprehensible snark rings in her ears as folly. When next she singsongs, its calmer, and slower.*

Och. Reckon, ah'd best be gi'en along soon, aye?

*A glance up to Sarita, Gina's smile gone thin.*

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] The grin fades, just the tiniest bit. Dark brown eyes roll upward and right for a second as she searches her brain to backtrack over the last few moments. She's coming up empty, but she knows something happened.

"I....said something wrong, didn't I?" She's not above asking.

[Gina McClaren] Nae darlin. Jes nae sooch a beg fan o' trueblooded strangers these days.
Easier tae 'ave em die when ye dinnae kain their names.

Ah'll see ye aroond, aye?

*Hearkening back to a conversation the two striders had shared previously, Gina offers Remy a half apologetic smile, and it would seem thats that. A wiggle of fingers to Sarita and the buxom pikey is headed to the nearest bus stop. Making her escape.*

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She watches Gina go, sighing a little. Well, you can't win 'em all. Sometimes you can win most of them...a fair amount of the time you can win some of them, and it's not that tough to win a few of them. Winning none of them is unfortunate, but it happens. But not all of them. That's how the saying goes...and as everyone knows, ALL sayings are correct, right?

Once her kin is gone, she looks back at Remy, looking him over. "So, hola. S'up?"

[Remy de Tournieres] While Sarita is 'translating', Remy's tipped his head back against the brick. Is staring straight up at the orange clouds over the city, closing the right eye now and opening the left. He wonders which eye it was Odin gave for the gift of wisdom. Someone taught him that once, surely. Beat it into him. Lost it a week later like he lost everything else, over and over again, eight years of that bullshit running until finally someone managed to cram his head full of enough things, enough wisdom and knowledge and tricks and spells, that they could rush him through a Rite of Passage before it all leaked out his ears again.

When he lowers his chin Gina's gone. Remy looks a little surprised, a little disappointed. "You scared her off," he says accusingly. "What a shame. Fine-looking piece of tail, too, and she was totally into me."

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She looks him over, amused. The New Mexican normally loves hanging around guys who are wearing eau de oblivous...but only really when there's someone else to help her enjoy the whole thing. On her own, she has WAY too much tendency to try and get the potential target in on the joke, and that usually results in her ass being served up fricasseed.

Still, there's no one else around, so instead of being disappointed, she stays amused. Remy gets a sympathetic look. "Aww, don't take it too hard there, cowboy. I'm sure there's several young lasses who will be all sorts of into you that can take her place." She walks over, even if she very clearly is NOT one of those particular young lasses in question, and extends a hand. "Sarita. Nice t'meetcha."

[Remy de Tournieres] Remy shifts, rolling one shoulder off the wall to extend that arm, that hand. The final outcome of that heavy, felt motion: his gloved hand wrapping around Sarita's and giving it a staunch shake. It's hard to see much of him under that big ski jacket, but there's strength in that hand. He moves like someone's who's strong, athletic.

"Rémy," he says, the accents French, not English. He's apparently too drunk to follow that up with the usual warning not to mock the name. Settling back against the wall the way the truly exhausted settle into a comfortable armchair, he eyes her through his one open eye. "What kind of name is Sarita? Doesn't sound Egyptian to me."

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] "Yeah, that's 'cause it's a special dialect of Egyptian. We call it, 'Spanish.'" She grins and performs a smooth side step, 180 degree body rotation and then backward lean so that she's against the wall right next to him. "I've never been Egypt in my life. Or Africa, for that matter. Or east of the Atlantic."

She shrugs, chain lighting a new cigarette off the old one. "My mother was Mexican and Navaho, and my father was...I think full-blooded Mexican. You'd have to ask Amy about that to be sure." She looks at Remy. "I'm a rebel, and I break the rules. We don't need no steenking Egyptian names." A little wink and grin follows.

[Remy de Tournieres] Special dialect, she says. Both of Remy's eyes open. For a second, he looks genuinely intrigued. "Really?" -- she informs him it's called Spanish, and he scowls. "Oh, ha ha." The left eye closes again. She takes up position by the wall and he eyes her new cigarette, holding his hand out for a drag. If she offers it, he takes it, sucks on it like it's a bong, and then explodes into a chain of coughs.

"Awful," he chokes out. "Thought it was a joint. Guuh."

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She does offer when he asks. When he takes a hit off it and starts hacking up, she grins a little. The Strider certainly knows the difference between the two and she knows his confusion before he vocalizes it by the way he tries to get a hit off of it.

"Shit, dude." A light chuckle comes from her throat. "If you're looking for that, lemme know. I just donated more'n I probably should have to a good cause, but I still got some left."

[Remy de Tournieres] Privately, Remy is glad Sarita doesn't ask how the fuck anyone could mistake a cigarette for a joint. It's not even like he has some deep dark secret to blame it on: I'm a metis and I was born with NO NOSE! I lost all my olfactory cells in a horrible accident involving a toaster and a broomstick! It's just that it's cold. And his nose is running a bit. And he's pickled every last brain cell in his head. All one of them, if that slick fuck from the cafe the other day is to be believed.

His thoughts float randomly along, pinging off one association after another like a pinball. Remy's still coughing a little as he hands the cigarette back: low little coughs in his chest.

"I don't trust you anymore," he rasps. "But if you want to donate more to a good cause I live at the Brotherhood. Room ... shit, I don't remember. Four or five."

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She takes the cigarette back, shaking her head with a smile as she takes a drag. She's not really the donating kind as a rule...she's gotta make some scratch somehow, and Amy's been too busy recuperating to pull her usual money-making schemes. But Sarita's also a smart enough girl to know that it's wise to make nice with the locals--or at least, the more-local-than-her-at-this-point--and she gives Remy a light shrug.

"Well, if I'm feelin' charitable at any point, I know to stop by. I'll just knock at doors until I hear you yell at me." That doesn't seem like something she's unused to--getting yelled at, that is--by the way she says it.

She gives a sigh and looks around. "On that note...I should go make my rounds. The pot-smokers ain't gonna give their money to the air to get high." She pushes off the wall and grins to Remy. "I'll see you around, ey?"

[[Gettin' late-ish for me. Thanks for the scene!]]

[Remy de Tournieres] "Yeee-ah," Remy says, like her goodbye was actually a question to be considered, pondered, and responded too. "I'll see you around." A pause. "Just in case I don't recognize you when these beer goggles come off, don't take it personally, okay?"

He returns something that looks sort of like a grin. White teeth ... a smile that might be even otherwise, but is crooked as all hell right now. He snaps his collar back up to his nose to protect himself from the chill, then dunks the hood back on his head. Without further ado, he heads off in the opposite direction. Or maybe just in some random direction. Sarita can hear him singing something as he goes -- both the melody and the words are slurred beyond recognition.

[same here, falling asleep at keyboard *dies* thanks!]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] [[Laters! *Poof Flees!*]]

i don't get it.

[Leon Davenport] He was walking down the street, after having parked his car. A black lexus of the year, in an underground garage. The tall, althetic, goodl ooking man, with short blond hair and piercing blue eyes made his way with confidence and grace, turning heads of those far enough to see him, while making those around him, avoid him. It's not that he smelled or look ugly form up close..there was jsut something about the shaply dressed man in a black suit, purple shirt and warm jacket, a kind of rage that was ever present in him, close ot the surface.

He looked around, as always, taking in his surroundings. He watched everyone, gaging their threat level. Of course to him, most were low level, but still the biker and his firend were big enough and could be packing enough to actually..tickle him. That made him grin. Everything smeed ok today, so he continued on his way.

He had his hands in his pockets, watching the humans and the new decor. The city seemed quite different during daytime then night time and he liked it. The day was bright, windy..it was chicago after all, but he was good with it. Toronto wasn't california after all. He spotted an italian restaurant that seemed interesting and stopped, trying ot decide if he wanted to go in.

[Sofie Janssen] Fate had it that the Kinfolk he saw the night before, was coming out that Italian restaurant. She wasn't too happy, again, and he may begin to wonder if she ever was. This time she wasn't steaming from the ears, but her expression was a little frustrated and dejected all the same.

Pulling the door shut after her, she stepped out onto the side walk to button up her jacket. It was the same black one he saw on her yesterday. Except this time she had on some blouse that made her look a wee bit softer, though didn't get rid of that sharpness in her face, and a pair of black pants over some cheap synthetic leather shoes. Her hair is pulled back into a single ponytail, leaving the angles of her face in straight lines and baring the tops of her her small ears.

As she's turning out from the door, stepping onto the side walk, she comes face to face with Leon. She halts, startled. "You again."

[Leon Davenport] He nodded with a grin "Yeah me again. Not stalking you, I swear. But I certainly don't mind seeing you again. You seem..kinda in the same mood as last night" He say, his grin turning into a smile as he look behind her "Food is not worth it, or is it something else?"He ask as his blue eyes came back to look at her. He seemed actually interested in the reason why she was angry. "Seriously, were they giving youa hard time?"He say with a slight frown. He took off his hands from his pockets, curling htem slightly, not into fists, not yet. He wanted to know her answer before lashing at the place...then again, no one was pursuing her this time. So her mood might be related to osmething else, or something trivial.

[Sofie Janssen] "Yeah right." She snorts at him not stalking her. "Not even twenty-four hours ago I saw you last." Sofie doesn't believe him at face value, but she doesn't get into it either. It's not something she's going to pursue, having no hard facts on it. She's more of a pessimist then some optimist, and being very well Pure Bred she had to be a little more cautious about these things. Plenty of Garou would love to get their hands on her, some less honourable than others.

There's a folder in her hand. The sort that has clear pocket sleeves and spiral bound. It's cover is navy blue and the back of it black. She's holding it down by her side, fingers wrapped around the edge as a high school girl might carry books towards class.

"Huh?" Confused for a moment, she looked from him and back through the windows to the restaurant. There's a few people inside, not many. It gets busier in the evening. "Oh nah." Shaking her head slightly, she dismisses his concerns. "No trouble." Her annoyance has faded. Her attention is easy to divert, especially when there's this Garou stalking her.

"What are you up to?" Her gaze, like her words, are frank and direct.

[Leon Davenport] He shrugh "I was looking for a place to eat. I'm hungry. " He smiled "Would you mind joining me? I'm buying. Maybe you could tell me what you're up to today?"He say, slowly starting to walk. He decided that they should eat somewhere else then the place that just annoyed her. He turned his head slightly to see if she was coming with him "And that blouse look lovely"He say, smiling. His eyes looked around, trying to find a place they could grab a bite "What kind of food do you like?"He ask, assumng she was near him

[Sofie Janssen] He was inviting her to eat something for lunch? Well, she hadn't ate yet, and a glance over the way he was dressed told her he came from some money. It was probably better she didn't but, what the hell. As long as they don't end up at some back alley diner, she should be alright.

Just as she was about to take him up on his offer, he makes a compliment about her blouse, making her look down to where the collar peeks out from her partly buttoned up jacket. She finds her hand smoothing it down, as if to make it neater. "Oh. Thanks." There's a small line between her brows, confused about how she feels at his compliment. Was he joking at her or being sincere?

"Organic. But finding that shit in the city is like trying to find a needle in a haystack," she tells him, moving to catch up. Apparently she's decided he can buy her lunch.

[Leon Davenport] He nodded "Well, we can always ask around...though you would have better chances than me to get an answer" He say with a playful grin. He walked at her pace, allowing his eyes to look again at their surrundings. He seemed compeltly relaxed if you don't notice the way his eyes took everything in. Yet, despite that inner tension..or alertness, when he spoke his voice was smooth, not a growl and had a nice way of moving, like liquid, all fluid and easy.

He saw a cafe that looked local, not one of the names he recognized at least "Would you prefer a restuarant or a quite cafe liek this one?"He say casully indicating the direction of the place he just spotted, looking at her

[Sofie Janssen] "I don't know I'm that persuasive." But she says it with half a grin, quick and fleeting.

They walk the street and find a cafe. She peers in through the windows, glances over the sign of the shop, and looks up at him with a shrug. "Yeah, could be alright. It's a gamble eating anywhere. I hear all sorts of shit about poor hygiene and food preparation. Never mind where they get their produce." The Glass Walker is probably thinking she's some sort of extremist. She is, to an extent. Sofie grew up in a rural area and the people she now runs with are serious environmentalists. People like her are the ones that push for organic foods and family business over mass corporations.

[Leon Davenport] He smiled "Want me to check where they get their supplies?"He said half teasing, half serious. He himself never really thought about his food. Of course, he can't stand junk food and processed food. He actualyl want ot eat real vegetables and meat when he eat. But still, he also knew that if there were some problems with hte food preparation..even hygiene, it wouldn't kill him. His body can handle it and much more. He still understood her. The more direct your food come from Gaia, the more natural it is, the better it taste. "I guess I'll really do osme reaseach about the most healthy place to eat. Dodn't feel liek poising myself either" He open the door for her.

[Sofie Janssen] His tease got a small smirk out of her. Bemused, she shrugged and walked through the door when he opened it for her. "Thanks," she had muttered. It wasn't for the offer to check supplies, but for opening the door.

Inside the warmth, she unbuttons her jacket and takes a look around for booths and tables. She takes a table by the window so she can have a good view outside and isn't stuck at looking at other patrons and wait staff. It's also furthest from the kitchen where she won't be tempted to ask about practices. That shit would get her kicked out faster then her food could be cooked. She really has to bite her tongue sometimes.

"Here alright?" she asks Leon, nodding to the table she's already picked out. Her jacket is already half way down her arms. That blouse is short sleeved and some creamy white colour. It's relatively new, like the black pants and shoes.

[Leon Davenport] He nodded "It's fine with me" He sit so he could keep an eye on the entrance, hopefully with as less peopel behind him as possible. He did checked them all before sitting, jsut after he took off his coat, leaving him in his dark suit that fit his atheltic frame prefectly. Most patrons looked away when he looked in their directions and those close to their table, subtly tried to move farter, pushing slowly their chair away, but unable ot go much farther..unless they wanted to eat between tables with plates on their knees

He sat down, his eyes looknig at her clothes then into her eyes "So tell me..why the new cothes, the neveloppe, the sour expression? Were you job hunting?"

[Sofie Janssen] After tossing her jacket over the back of the chair, she sits down. She gets comfortable and reaches for a menu on the table, leaving the other one for him. "Yeah. I've got to get a job. Get some pennies in the bank so I can actually live in this place." Her folder is left on the table, cover closed. She doesn't have a bag with her.

Looking down at the menu, she scans it over, searching out the best options. She throws a glance over towards the kitchen and counter, giving the staff a once over before looking back to the menu. Thoughtful. She doesn't offer too much information other then that, silent as she debates what to eat. The cafe isn't that packed.

[Leon Davenport] He nodded "From the look of things, it's not going too well. What are your experiences?" He ask, picking up his menu, glancing it at, deciding on eating a sandwich with a side order of salad, before looking at her. He was curious about her skills. Who knows, maybe he could help her find something, then again probably not. Beside the possibility that she could work as a very basic employe ofr his trube..unless she's a kin to his, thenchances are he won't be able to do anything. Still, he coud be persuasive when he wanted to. It all depend if Sofie would agree to have him help. He put down the menu, eyes alternating beteen her and the entrance, watching every newcomers for a few seconds.

[Sofie Janssen] The question makes her a tad bit uncomfortable. She doesn't wear it on her sleeve, but she does hesitate before answering. "Uh, bit of this and that. But I don't have any formal qualifications or anything." It's a nice way of saying she didn't go too far in school. She doesn't explain the rest of the isolated upbringing or that most of the focus was other then skills required to wait tables or work as some check out chick.

"What do you think their meat here's like?" Lifting her gaze from the menu, she glanced over at him. Debating whether or not she's going to take a gamble with whatever meat is in the freezer out back, or knowing cities, sitting on some fly covered counter in tubs.

[Leon Davenport] He grin "I think it'll be fine. I"m having a ham and turkey sandwich with salad. You can wait to see if I fall down dead before ordering meat" He say with a playful smile "Really, i think the meat will be good" He lean back into his chair, his eyes on her "Would you mind me having a look at your resume? Not to get any info out of it, but just to look at it overall. Sometimes, it's all in the presentation."

He had his arm on the table and turned it so his hand was facing up when he added "I understand if you don't want me to look into your life, just trying to be helpful." He knew she liked her privacy, not having learned much about her in their first meeting and not much more today. He was fine with it. He respected that.

[Sofie Janssen] "Less about the falling down dead, more about picking between hormone fed animals or vegetables grown under pesticides," the Kinfolk pointed out with a lift of her brow and a twist of her mouth. It wasn't that amusing, but she knew how a few people could take her remarks. He can bet she's had more then a few arguments about this sort of thing since hitting the big cities.

When he asks about her resume, she glances away from her menu to the folder she has sitting on the table. Reaching out, she slides it off the table and instead of giving it to him, sets it on her lap out of sight. "I'd prefer not." She doesn't apologize. "I appreciate the help, but maybe later down the track if I haven't landed a job." Trust is hard to come by. He's an outsider. Never mind that he could track her down by scent alone or by a strand of her hair.

"So, I'm thinkin'..." This is her attention going back to the menu. "Water and a pasta salad."

[Remy de Tournieres] Remy, despite his ever-so-european name, isn't much of a coffee drinker. That said, it's assnumbing degrees below freezing, and the windchill coming off the lake makes him feel like his eyeballs are going to turn to ice and fall out of their sockets. So mostly for the promise of warmth it offers, Remy shoulders his way into the MagMile cafe. Standing just inside the door, huffing from the cold, he pushes the hood of his winter jacket down and unsnaps the collar down from his face. Halfway across the room, some girl loses her train of thought and keeps staring, glance after glance, until her boyfriend turns to see what she's looking at.

Then there's a minor commotion over there. Boyfriend gets up and storms over, girlfriend trailing pleadingly in his wake. Boyfriend has some idea of confronting the pretty dandy that just walked in, but

several steps away, that idea freezes ice cold in his chest at one guarded, unwavering glance from the Fenrir with the face. And the Rage. Boyfriend swerves aside and shoves out the doors instead. Girlfriend shoots Remy one last look and then follows, saying Baby, I wasn't... until the door shuts behind her.

Remy heads up to the counter. He orders a small hot chocolate, counts out cash, then stands around waiting for his drink. As he does, he stares up at the menu, wondering what the fuck would drive a man to pay nearly $6 for a cup of coffee. Then he looks around. Then he sees Sofie Janssen -- his kin, which makes all the difference in the world for the ornery young Fenrir -- sitting across from some smooth-looking bastard who probably paid $12, $20, for a cup of coffee on a regular basis.

So Remy rolls on over. He shrugs out of his big jacket as he goes, and it turns out not all that size was stuffing. The guy's built: built like a quarterback, built like a bull. Thick shoulders, wide chest, biceps as big around as most girls' thighs. He drops his jacket in an empty seat unceremoniously and pulls up another, crowding into the little cafe table. He smiles, and by god that smile is beautiful, a million watts, lights up the room, but his eyes are just a little too direct as they go from Sofie to fix on Leon.

"Hi," he says. And he leaves it right there.

[Leon Davenport] He grinned at her, not saying anything about her not showing him his resume. It was ok with "Sure, just let me know if you ever need it" He replied when she say hse mgiht ask later for his help. Some people wanted to prove themselves, do things alone, without help. He understood that and respected it. He was like that himself.

His eyes spotted Remy immediatly wehn the man stepped in. Big, fit, moving easilly, yes, the man could be a treath, all hormones, probably no brains...football player most likely. The scenes with the girl, amused him. Seem like caught the ladie's eyes easilly. Good for him, though when the guy backed away, a flag was raised in the back of his head. Might be something more to pretty boy. His attention went mostly back to Sofie when she told him about her order.

He was about to comment when the man came to their table and decided to sit with them "Hi"He replied back, his piercing blue eyes on Remy "May we help you?"He ask in a polite tone, his own rage starting to boil inside..He didn't liek his attittude and he especially didn't liek being interrupted while having lunch with a friend? well at least acquintance.

[Sofie Janssen] "Yeah, I will. You know, if I need it," she tells Leon. It's likely that she won't.

That girl wasn't the only one that looses her train of thought. When Remy comes rolling over and pulling up a chair, she turns her gaze towards him. At first she's wondering who the hell and the paranoid part of her mind is thinking it's going to be some suave partner of Leon's, but when she looks over it's someone completely unexpected.

Sharp eyes flicker quickly over his broad body, then up to his face. She grins before she can help herself, the expression growing brighter. "Heeey!" It's enthusiastic. Despite their last chat, she's glad to see him. "What are you doing here?" It's not an interrogation question, more like something asked casually. Surprised and welcoming rather then suspicious and trying to brush him off.

Leon's completely forgotten for a space of a few moments, at least from the Kinfolk. She's even shifted in her seat, turned subtly, but more towards the new arrival. Her attentions focused. Body language more open, forgetting how much he invades it.

[Remy de Tournieres] "Who's we?" Remy volleys right back. "She doesn't have anything to do with you. Not unless my entire family upped and turned into a flock of metrosexual yakkety-yaks while I was sleeping."

Then he leans right in. Yep, there it is: invasion of private space. He gets real close, almost eyeball to eyeball with the man, and the ridiculous thing is up close he gets even better looking. No wonder the girl stared until her boyfriend stomped off. Look at those chiseled cheekbones, that square jaw. Look at those dreamy dark eyes,

so full of rage.

He sniffs, a few short intakes, head cocking like a canine's. "And you sure don't smell like family," he pronounces, and sits back. "So don't act like there's any 'we's here."

The heel of Remy's hand rests on the edge of the table. When he tightens his fist, his knuckles pop lightly. He glances at Sofie at her enthusiastic greeting, and then he hikes a thumb over his shoulder. "Getting a hot chocolate," he says. "Freezing my dick off outside. You get home all right the other night?"

[Leon Davenport] He stared back at the man, clearly not impressed by the built, the attittude nor the rage. His eyes were cold, piercing and his own hands curled into fists "Now, talk about civility. Glad to know I came to a city and not some barren outback with dull witted inbreds. As for the we, well it would seem evident to me, but maybe you need some explaination since your single brain cell is worknig overtime. Sofie and I were jsut having lunch, as we're recent acquintances. So I doubt it's your problems, since as far as I know, you don't own her"

He look at Sofie for a moment, trying to contain his rge. SHe knew the man, she seemed friendly to him, and he was probably Garou. He din't felt liek picking a fight here, over someone he jsut met. They were somewhat on a firendly basis, nothing much and judging by the way she acted with him, it'll stay friendly at best. Fine, he could live with that. "Seem liek your friend need some time with you, and I have a few things to do"

His voice a colder, more flat than it had been before. He was trying to control himself, trying ot convince the guy wasn't his enemy, that he didn't need to tear him apart for her attention. He slowly got up "I'll be seeing you around"He say to her, or both, it was hard to tell.

[Leon Davenport] (sorry for looking like he's running away...it's 7am here..and it just seemed convienient to leave the scene at this point ;) )
to Remy de Tournieres, Sofie Janssen

[Remy de Tournieres] [aw, np man. catch you some other time!]
to Leon Davenport, Sofie Janssen

[Leon Davenport] ((thanks...will stay around for each of your next post..and then will have him exit))
to Remy de Tournieres, Sofie Janssen

[Remy de Tournieres] Every Fenrir is an Ahroun. That's the cliche, anyway, but the truth is if Remy were an Ahroun tables would be overturned, coffee would be flying, and faces would be breaking already.

Which means he must not be an Ahroun. Because the pretty, pretty bastard that just sat down at Leon and Sofie's table just leans his chair back on two legs and gives a shiteating sort of smirk. "That was a lot of big talk there, buddy, but even me and my single overworked brain cell can figure out which way your feet are walking. Don't let that door hit you in the ass on the way out, now."

And he tops that off with a cocky little two-fingered salute.

[Sofie Janssen] Sofie's talk takes a back seat as the two of them throw around some testosterone. At a few moments she opens her mouth to come to the defense of one or the other, but stays quiet at the last moment. She ends up nodding at Leon as he gets up to leave. "Yeah, alright. See ya," she tells him, watching him gather his jacket to leave.

When he does, she cuts a look to Remy, doing her best to withhold a smirk. "You just chased my lunch out the door." Not that Leon was her lunch. Surely he knew what she meant and it didn't matter too much that he didn't. The menu is folded and set aside. "Good thing I hadn't ordered." Since the prices are ridiculous.

The folder she had on her lap is now set on the table again. She doesn't care if Tribe catches hold of it. "As for the other night, yeah, I did."

[Leon Davenport] He took his jacket, nodded to Sofie and walked away, looking over his shoulder at Rëmy "Seem like I have more importnat things to do right now, but don't worry, we'll resume this conversation eventually. It wasn't a threat, jsut a fact. They will meet again..maybe they will come to blow or pretty boy will have put his moves on Sofie and will be satisfied and they could actually be civil to each other...then again.

He had serious doubts about it..first, he weasn't sure if Sofie was interested beyond his looks and two..he wasn't betting the man knew how to be civil. Well they'll see. And maybe if he end up holding Remy's tongue between his fingers, it will teach the other man a lesson. He put on his jacket as he exit, heading toward his room. He did have soem work to do, he just would do it right now instead of later

(night you two))

[Remy de Tournieres] "And you should thank me for that," Remy retorts. "Boys like only have one thing in mind, you know. Anyway, I'll take you down to Manny's and buy you a sandwich. Ten bucks, and a cute little thing like you can probably eat it for breakfast lunch and dinner."

He lets the front legs of his chair thump down as her folder comes up on the table. Without so much as a may I? he reaches across and grabs it, pulling it onto his lap as he rocks back again. "What's this?" He sounds genuinely curious as he flips it open. "Homework?"

[Sofie Janssen] "What's Manny's? Sounds like they get their stuff from the back of a truck." Lifting her brows, she doesn't sound too impressed, but isn't going to knock back the offer. Well, not until she see's what Manny's is like.

The cover is blue. Inside is plastic sleeves with paper fitted into it. She doesn't reach to snatch it back, just shrugs and leans her forearms on the edge of the table, folding them over each other. Unlike last he saw her, she's wearing a short sleeve, cream-white blouse and a pair of black pants. The synthetic leather shoes are cheap, new. Her hair is even in a ponytail, pulled away from her face, leaving it at sharp angles and showing small, unpierced ears. "It's a resume."

Which, as he reads it, doesn't have too much details on it. No formal education, but there's a list of apparently positive attributes and some work history with some references - not of which are going to get her too far in town. The references are from family friends and the likes rather then big business. She probably wasn't even on the books.

"Don't think it's going to get me far." Looking from him to the folder in his hands, she sighed and glanced towards the window, beginning to chew the inside corner of her lip.

[Remy de Tournieres] "Best deli in town, that's what. Anyway, that's what they say. I've only been there once, but their roast beef was pretty amazing."

Remy glances down the resume. It's not as though he has any particular work savvy, but even he can see that her education ends at high school -- or less -- and her references are all personal. He flicks his eyebrows, then closes the folder and hands it back to her.

"Yeah, it probably won't," he says, cheerfully and brutally honest. "But if this doesn't pan out, you could probably make a good living walking the streets."

[Remy de Tournieres] [er - home school!]

[Sofie Janssen] Her eyes roll when she takes the folder back from him and sets it on the table. She doesn't take his suggestion seriously, just gives him the classical girl look - part arched brow and that displeased expression. It vanishes in the next heart beat, and she drops her arms off the table to sit back.

"I'm sure I'll find something, eventually." If not she had a few other plans. Just might mean she could end up with an arrest record, and she really doesn't want to do that.

She's looking at him now that he's not poking his nose through her things, glancing over his ultra pretty features. "So who do you run with?" It's not Last Watch, she knows that much. "And is that Drew girl your mate?" Pale eyes are steady on him, watchful.

[Remy de Tournieres] But he doesn't let go of the folder when she rolls her eyes. He holds on until she looks at him, and then he locks eyes with her. Intense suddenly. Intent.

"Don't," he says. For a second it's not clear what the fuck he's talking about. "Don't walk the streets," he clarifies a moment later. "If you get that desperate, let me know. I'd rather hunt dinner down for you with my bare hands than let my kin whore themselves out."

He lets go the folder, sitting back. "Or, for that matter," he adds, "work some menial job somewhere where they're not paid a single ounce of respect. You hold out for something decent, even if it takes you a while. All right?"


If after all that she still asks about Drew, Remy's face slides back into that smirk. "Why?" he asks, question for question.

[Sofie Janssen] The Kinfolk makes a small sound with her tongue, a muted annoyance. "Seriously? I'm not going to do that. I have some pride of my own and my moral compass is a little high geared." As if he couldn't tell last time they had a conversation. Sometimes it even makes her a hypocrite as he points out.

She doesn't soften, exactly, but he can see the way that expression smooths out and she nods at him. It's slight, but it's a nod of respect. An acceptance, too. "Alright. I will," she says. "I appreciate it." If things get that tough she would, but she doesn't think it will get that far. She does stay with a few kin already, she just wants to pull her own weight like anyone with some self respect.

Folder back on the table, he smirks at her, and her teeth flash in a quick grin. Her eyes do, too. "Because I'm curious. She got awful defensive of you." Which amuses the hell out of Sofie, apparently. She's still watching him, his eyes more then his pretty features. It's not a stare, her gaze flits back and forth between each of his eyes often enough.

[Remy de Tournieres] Remy huffs a quiet laugh, smirk twitching a bit. Then his hot chocolate is finally arriving, and he leans back to give the waitress the wide berth she needs to set the drink down, because as easy on the eyes as Remy is, none of these humans girls really want to get close to them. They chalk it up to nerves. They tell themselves they're intimidated by how cute/hot/handsome/pretty/gorgeous/whatever-the-fuck he is, but the truth is some part of them react to him the way any prey reacts to a predator.

With fear. With distrust. He could pull them to him with that, turn fear into a sort of sick thrill -- but that's another can of worms altogether, and one he's not quite willing to open often.

Anyway. The waitress leaves soon enough, and Remy's still impressed that a cafe has a waitress as all. He's impressed that the cup he got is ceramic, not paper. He picks it up and blows across the surface, then takes a ginger sip before putting it back down.

By then the waitress is far away enough for him to answer. "She's not my mate," he says, "and I don't have a pack. Or a mate, for that matter. But Drew's family, like you. And I guess I just get on a little better with the kin than I do with Garou in this city."

[Sofie Janssen] While the waitress comes and goes, she sits back quietly, shifting her attention to the waitress and between the two of them, watching how the interaction goes about. It's not something she smiles about. She doesn't feel pity for the humans either. It's just the way things go, a reminder of what and who he is and that she's not in some Garou and Kinfolk orientated town anymore. This is the big city.

"She's pretty enough to be," Sofie tells him. It's an honest assessment and there's not a hint of bitterness, jealousy or even amusement about it. Maybe she's trying her hand at match making, but its more possible that she's making an idle remark. She's got a big mouth and a small filter. "But why are you running solo? I get there's a lot of pissing contests, and I can keep my nose out of it, but I'm curious. Don't you feel like..." her shoulder shrugs, "I don't know. Like an outsider?" Garou run in packs.

[Remy de Tournieres] "Yeah," Remy agrees, noncommittally as only the truly beautiful can be about another's attractiveness, "but the buzz amongst the spirits is that she's also recently widowed." And just like that Sofie knows: this unlikely creature with football-jock physique and, for that matter, the football-jock attitude is, in fact, a Godi. "I think a girl like that deserves a bit of space before guys start sniffing around her skirts again."

He sips from his hot chocolate, then, eyes on Sofie as she circles back to the topic of packs. There's a faint frown on his brow when he sets the mug down -- like he has to think about what he's going to say next. He's not quite as dumb as he looks, thank god, but it's quite clear he's not nobel prize winner either.

"I guess I do," he says. "But that's why I'm not in a hurry to find a pack, not the other way around. You talk about 'pissing contests' like they're a bad thing. They're all I know, except the way I've always seen them, someone leaves bloody and someone leaves victorious, and that's how you know who's boss and who's not.

"I was born to the Fenrir of the Normandy coast. You Americans think the French are a bunch of lilyfooting fags, and hell, maybe there's some truth in that for most of them. But you haven't seen hard until you've lived amongst a Sept of motherfuckers descended straight from the same motherfuckers that fucked the Angles and the Saxons like a bunch of little girls, kicked them out of their own country. Fenrir that made their bones conquering other Fenrir, now that's hardcore.

"Anyway," he gets back to the topic at hand, "I've been all over the world. Grew up everywhere. Germany. Norway. Iceland. England. Pennsylvania, Minnesota, but always hard Septs. Always hard Fenrir. It's weird for me here. Everyone keeps talking. No one steps up to bat. I did something the Fenrir Alpha didn't like and she just grumped about it. I expected to get beat down for it. There were Garou running around that aren't even part of the Sept, and they aren't ashamed. I expected to see them beat on until they joined up or left down. I don't ... get these Garou. I don't get all this peace love and understanding shit."

[Sofie Janssen] Her hands hold up when he tells her what she thinks about pissing contests. "Hey," she interrupted, if only briefly, "I didn't say that." Just as swiftly she backed off her own defense, listening to him as he continued. She's found herself leaning back against the table again, only a small bit of her weight against it, drawn in through her curiousity, learning about his life and how he sees the world.

"I haven't been here long enough, and I'm not in the middle of it all, but I know what you mean." At least she thinks she does.

"I'm from a small rural Sept, most of all is Fenrir," she tells him. "This is my first time out living in a big city. I've been to Seattle a few times, but always went back home. I've only got that to compare to the world. I've done no real traveling or nothing like that. But I grew up in a Sept, you know? A small town, a handful of folks and plenty of Kin. I know more about our culture then I do about the outside world, and that might seem stupid to some, but I do get what you mean."

There's a pause as she sits back, chews the inside of her lip briefly, then shrugs and goes ahead and says what she's thinking anyway, despite the possible repercussions. "It's like, take our last meeting and how I mouthed off. I expected you to come at me like that, right? So we have that in common. Actually, I expected you to squeeze some life out of my throat to be honest with ya." Shrugging that off, "But it's like, back home, some Garou would have stepped up and had a throw down with you long before a Kinfolk said shit."

"I guess I didn't understand it either."

[Remy de Tournieres] Remy shifts in his seat, brow furrowing, uncomfortable. He picks up his mug again and takes a long drink. Drains it. Sets it back down and licks a froth of whipped cream from his upper lip, still frowning.

"It's not right to hit the kin," he says. "You protect your kin. That's the deal. There's no glory in pummeling someone not your match, only shame. That's not to say I'm gonna let you get away with anything, because I'm not. You step too far out of line and I'll put you back, just like I expect my elders to do for me. That's my end of the deal.

"But if I can scare you into seeing where you went wrong, then that's a sight better than turning your face three colors to make the same point. You're kin," he says again, like it matters, "and I'm supposed to protect my kin."

He wipes his mouth quickly on the base of his thumb. Shifts his weight to one side, pulling his wallet out and counting out a rumpled bill to cover the tip. "Come on," he says. "I can feel my toes again. Let's go get some real food."

[Sofie Janssen] "Some Kin need more than a good scaring." Thankfully it's not her. She's got a little better sense than that and apologizes before anything gets too out of hand.

When he gets out money, she pushes her chair back and rises up. Her jacket is slipped on and her chair is pushed back in. "This Manny's had better be good." With a quick grin, she grabs up her folder and tucks it under her arm, following out towards the door.

other fenrir.

[Sofie Janssen] Dodging past a few, she quickly grabs her rucksack and stows it behind her legs, kicking it out of the way. Then she stays leaning against the counter while new people filter in. She hasn't met any of them and looks at each in turn. Soda is slowly sipped.

[Izzy Montoya] A huff of breath is the only amusement she shows as the bellow reaches her, and being as she's not a bunch of anything -except, perhaps, a bunch of Attitude that gets a fair share of ass kicking anyway - she pushes open the door, closing it behind her. She gives her eyes a moment to adjust to the light, listens for the voices, and heads that way.

When Kora last saw her, she was doing her best to refuse to favor an injured leg. She doesn't have to work at it today. Her stride is long and strong, her footsteps echoing through the sanctuary.

She arrives behind Rain and Jackson, and pauses in the doorway, taking in the faces of those present - marking position and activity with a practiced sweep of her gaze. "Evening."

[Jackson Montgomery] He looks to each of them, offering a smile that is a mix between two tones; warm and personable, and polite and respectful. One is his natural inclination, the other is what he's used to doing around his family. There's a touch of uncertainty acting as the glue that melds those two different looks together. It's certainly not fear...he's not cowering or meek. It's more that he's just trying to feel the mood in the room out to respond right.

"Hey." He takes the offered hand with a touch wider of a smile. "Jackson, like Rain said. Jackson Montgomery. Nice to meet you all."

[Kora] "Hear that?" The neighborhood is quiet enough. There are no close neighbors. The squatters and dealers have retreated, found other corners, on other streets. Rain's voice rings out, and there is the diesel engine, the cab pulling away, its tires crunching on packed ice glazed across the street. City crews come no closer than Franklin, three blocks away. They'll slip and slide until April, here. Then Linus shouts, and Kora huffs a laugh, mostly underneath her breath.

The kitchen is made for a crowd, but there are just a handful of seats scattered around a reclaimed table. Kora returns the remnants of her sandwich to its place, picks it up, and snags a place at the table.

Then, a glance back at Linus, choking on his half-a-sandwich. "Mayo, ketchup. Maybe plum sauce? I dunno. Good though, isn't it?"

Jackson and Rain disappear into a small door set aside from the chancel. It was added later, and leads to the social hall, flat brick against the solid gray stones of the old cathedral. The kitchen is just inside, a few steps down a hallway that continues well beyond. Warm and crowded after the bright, stark chill of the church.
Seated at the table, dressed in jeans, black Doc Marten's, and several layers - hoodie over t-shirt over thermal. The hoodie is half-unzipped. Kora's pale blonde hair is pulled roughly back and tied against its own weight, at the nape of her neck. She sits at the old metal table with a certain a certain confidence, a certain animal sprawl, taking

"Rain," the greeting is familiar; she lifts a chin at Jackson,whose breeding speaks for him, sparks bright against her senses. "Hey. Kora." Then, "Rain, Jackson this is Sofie. She's Fenrir kin. Sofie, this is Rain. She's Roman's tribe, and bunks here with us."

[Rain McKellar] "Ah. Sure."

Rain glances from Roman to Jackson, and then lays a hand on the newcomers arm briefly. "I'll be right back," she tells him, only to find that it's utterly unnecessary. So she stays put.

"Evening, Detective," she says to Izzy. Offering a little smile.

Instead Rain shrugs a little and moves out of the way. To the scared and startled woman in the corner she offers a momentary glance and then, with an uncanny sort of understanding, Rain looks away to give her some space and solace.

When introduced, she offers, "Hi, Sofie," in a voice that's gentle and unassuming against all the yelling and Rage in the room. She waves her fingertips a little at the Fenrir woman.

[Sofie Janssen] "Hey." Rain and Jackson both get a smile out of her, but it's closer to a brief flash of teeth given her features. She steps forward to extend a hand to each. Rain first, before she runs off to fetch the door if she's going, and then Jackson. "Nice to meet you both."

[Roman Turner] "Did ya hear that Miss Kora, your own brother is charging you babysitting fees."

Between himself and Linus, it was a contest on who could stir the most trouble. Together it was double trouble. Izzy entered and got a.....

"Howdy Miss Detective Montoya, Ma'am."

With Roman most greetings were an entire introduction. He shook Jackson's hand, giving it a few good pumps.

"Hot danged but it is getting to be a real party in here. How long ya been in town Jackson? Where ya staying?"

[Kora] "And Izzy." A moment later. Then, like this is a mnemonic, goes around naming the people in the room, pointing them out with the crust of her sandwich. "Sofie. Sofie, Izzy. Izzy, Rain. Rain, Izzy, Jackson, Rain, Sofie, Izzy."

A subtle curl of her mouth for the verbal slapstick.

Then, " - beer's in the cooler, food's on the counter." This is directed to Jackson as much as everyone. The kinsman will find the Jarl's dark blue eyes direct on him, a quiet, full look, the humor fading from both her voice and her curving mouth. "You're more than welcome to fix yourself a sandwich, or grab yourself a beer."

[Izzy Montoya] She doesn't try to correct Roman - doing so is what got her the Miss Detective Montoya Ma'am name to begin with. She just nods, slightly. She lets her gaze linger on Rain a moment in greeting, before she simply lifts a hand to everyone else

...and makes for the beer.

[Rain McKellar] So very many people. It's not the crowd that Rain minds, it's the keeping up with a thousand things going on at once. She shakes Sofie's hand, and her own is lightly callused in places from her craft.

"Nice ta meetcha," she says, under the press of interweaving conversations. And if Rain's foot just happened to bump the leg of Linus's chair as she passed the slightly assholic Godi, then it was clearly a mishap from too many people in the room and not Roman wearin' off on her.

"Babysitting fees, huh?" she asks. Flat. No lilt to it. Rain folds her arms across her middle and eyes him. "I'mma keep that in mind, Mr. Linus. I am." But that breaks into a little smile, because she doesn't hold anything against any of them for long.

[Jackson Montgomery] He nods and waves to Kora and to Sofie, smiling warmly, and then looks over his shoulder to Izzy. He takes note of the 'detective' of course, and he gives her a nod. "Hello."

The amount of people he just got introduced to would be dizzying for some, but Jackson's used to it. Whether school, parties or other functions, he's been through the whirlwind of handshakes and names that he can keep up, and he does so smoothly here. Ramon's questions draw his attention back, and he smiles.

"I've been in town since beginning of September...I'm attending film school at Flashpoint. Staying at the dorm housing there." He smiles a bit and shrugs. "I've been meaning to come and make some introductions, but I wanted to get the first semester out of the way first. Get some momentum going, you know."

[Linus] "Pregnant woman and their god damn cravings..."

He mutters, peeling back one of the bread slices to take a look inside the remnants of the sandwich. A cautionary stare is all that's left, before he devours the last of it, cheeks puffing out with the gesture and hands wiping themselves down against his clothing like any self-respecting twenty something year old might manage in a tight spot or a lazy moment. He flicks a hand out toward all the people, still chewing enough to make whatever joke about the crowd and the Church Social this has become a moment in waiting. By the time he's swallowed, that moment has passed and he waves it off.

"Kor'...that Dead Rite position out on the East side of the Boundaries." He swallows and sucks some mayo from his thumb. "...I found a couple more ranging further out. Seem to be keeping their distance from the Caern, mostly south side, pushing in toward Chinatown here or there, but they seem to be set up with the intent to lure and draw. Pull attention and snicker about it from afar. Ask me, the bastards are pulling some rudimentary attrition tactics around the city. Wouldn't be surprised if some things start popping up here or there...."

And then around on Rain, a brow perked evenly over a dark brown eye.

"Sure thing, sweetheart. Just means you might well inherit the fees. Fuck knows things are getting a little crowded. Need to start figuring something out with all these new bodies in town. Get you people settled so you're working with one another and not simply under our stretched thin asses."

His eyes narrow, searching for some sort of refreshment, having polished off the remainder of Roman's soda without much hesitation.

[Sofie Janssen] Izzy got a nod from Sofie, since the Detective didn't seem interested in shaking hands and what not. For all the new faces, the Get Kinfolk has taken a back seat. It's gone from telling stories of recent past, gossiping and eating, to a crowd in the place. It had been a good day to bring that roast beef.

[Rain McKellar] "If you really feel that way, I'll work on movin' out, first thing," she tells the oft-rough-around-the-edges Godi with a tone that is not even approaching argumentative. At the end of a day like today, it's more tired and worn than anything else. It's soft, and damn near apologetic.

[Kora] Kora - who is on second glance noticeably pregnant, the firm curve of her stomach evident beneath the half-zipped hoodie - gives her brother a simple, quiet smirk as he he opens up the half-sandwich he had half-devoured, looking for whatever remained. She's solidly in the second trimester, five or five and a half months along.

"There was some sort of - " Kora's mouth twists, briefly, more at the right corner than the left. " - kinfolk network last year." She comments, as Linus starts discussing What Is to Be Done with the kinfolk. "Joe hated it." Then, she offers a subtle half-shrug underneath. The exchange between the pair shifts, though, and Kora gives Rain a firm shake of her head.

"Ignore him. You're welcome here, Rain."

[Roman Turner] "She's got ya there Linus. She moves out and you'll not have them snacks ya like so much."

He bent and pulled a beer from the cooler, shoving one towards Linus then Jackson and whoever else wanted one.

"I guess the Tribal Elder knows ya been in town Jackson? It's good to meet another of the family."

[Linus] "Oh don't start that with me?" It's a whine that the Godi flings at the ceiling. Then he's standing and moving toward Roman for his beer, pointing back at Kora along the way.

"Listen to her. She's a woman too. You'll be fine. I need a drink. Beer me, Small one!" He pops the cap on the beverage and takes a slug.

[Drew Roscoe] [Reposted for the sake of Damon]

[Drew Roscoe]
The rumble of Drew's Dodge Ram isn't nearly distinguishable enough to be called familiar, not even if she visited the Church regularly (and she doesn't, not yet, there's no rhyme or rhythm to her dropping by). It isn't even really loud enough to be heard by people tucked away in the kitchen of the Church. It is, however, present, a quiet thrum of a diesel engine as it rounds the corner and pulls up to park not directly in front of the church, but close enough.

Drew's at the steering wheel, of course, pushing the stick shift between the seats into park and killing the engine. She had unbuttoned her coat to make up for the warmth of the heater in the truck, but was buttoning the thick blue not-a-peacoat back up after unbuckling her seatbelt but before getting out. She's wearing a clingy pale blue short-sleeved sweater top under the coat and a pair of dark jeans whose cuffs fall over the short heels of black dress boots. Her hair was in a loose ponytail that laid over one shoulder rather than straight down her back, but most of the makeup she'd applied earlier in the day for work had faded off by now.

She was cute, but she was nothing compared to the man in her passenger seat. She glanced over at Remy, flicked her eyebrows up as though to ask 'ready to go?' unnecessarily, then hopped down out of her truck and made her way around onto the sidewalk, meeting up with the Godi and tugging the collar of her coat up over her bare neck, shivering some with the bone-touching chill of the night.

"Have you even met Kora before?"

[Izzy Montoya] Kora mentions the kin network, and Izzy arches a brow, slightly. She finds an empty spot at the counter to lean against, and opens the beer she'd grabbed, sliding to the side to get out of Linus's way so that he can be beered.

She unfastens her jacket, and slides her hand into the pocket of her slacks. She crosses her ankles - perviously injured right over the left - and simply listens.

[Jackson Montgomery] "Well..." He smiles a little in that 'Yeeeeah, about that' kind of way, rubbing at the back of his neck. He takes the offered beer with a grateful nod. "Thanks. No, I don't think so. My father had given me a certain amount of time to go make proper introductions, and so...well, that's what I'm starting now. So unless he did some advance notice for me, which I doubt, I've been sorta flying under the radar for the last few months."

[Rain McKellar] Rain is holding grudges slightly longer than usual tonight. It's a mark, among other things, that she is not entirely okay. Whatever's eating her, though, she doesn't bring up at the dinner table. But Linus has bothered her, and it's not smoothing away as quickly as usual.

"Mr. Roman, I've never been able to find Ms. Lila, if that's who our Elder is. 'Swhy I brought him here, rather than sendin' him off t' go looking for her."

Rain declines a beer. It's the first time in a long time she hasn't had a drink with the pack when offered.

[Remy] 'Cute' isn't enough of a superlative for Remy's face. When he gets out of Drew's big old truck, heads turn and hearts flutter. It's freezing cold, though, so he has an excuse to clap the hood of his ski jacket onto his head and to button that collar right up to his nose. Face mostly obscured, he trots up on the sidewalk with the young kin. The motion of his head might be a nod, or it might be a shake; hard to tell.

"Sorta," he says. "I think I saw her that night at that irish pub. You know, right before me and all the Fianna threw down?" There's a note of barely-disguised pride there.

[Kora] "I'm serious," Kora says quietly to Rain, finding the songbird's dark brown eyes, and holding them, level and sure. The corner of her mouth quirks. "I don't care how much he grumbles. You're welcome here. It's easier for us to know you're safe when we wake up and find scones on the counter."

Maybe she has ulterior motives.

A flicker of a look toward Sofie. "Or a roast in the kitchen." Her curving mouth widens; this is quietly spoken, mostly for the pair of kinswomen. Kora's straightening, though, the last crumbs of the sandwich falling over her plate.

"I saw Lila last moon," her alto rises, a quiet chord, a brief, sidelong look at Rain. A certain narrowing of her brows, thoughtful, as the look lingers. " - but she travels, all the time." Then, a look back to Roman. "Someone needs to stand for your kin, Roman, in her absence."

[Remy] "Oh, and," he remembers suddenly, "I was at her christmas dinner for like five minutes."

[Jackson Montgomery] He follows the conversation about the their Tribe elder, quiet for the moment and keeping track of the conversation. In the absence of something to say, Jackson is a keen observer, and that's exactly what he's doing now.

[Sofie Janssen] Looking over to Kora, Sofie throws her a quick grin and glances over to Rain. Sofie's not a cook. Her scones would be like rocks. But a roast is another matter. It's not all that hard to throw a piece of meat in an oven and shut the door. While Sofie isn't staying at the pack house, and with some kinfolk instead, she has dropped by several times now. She took the welcome to mean what it is.

"Don't worry about him," she tells Rain, trying for supportive. "He's just upset he's not in Hawaii with coconut boobs and grass skirts, with girls fanning him down."

[Roman Turner] He had seen Lila only at Moots himself. Infact, if he had to , he probably couldn't find the female. Kora spoke up and one of Roman's brows rose.

"Well the few I have met, I have offered my help to, my contact information and even a place to sleep. But I ain't so sure how well my Elder is gonna like me stepping on her toes. Oh well, life goes on, right?"

He shrugged and stood up a little straighter.

"Short of making some confounded claim and a darned fool of myself, I'll do what I can of course. And Rain, unless ya fall for someone, ya ain't going nowhere just cause Linus grumps all the time."

[Rain McKellar] Sofie is not in any way in danger of losing Pride of Place as the resident kinfolk culinary expert. She made a roast, Rain made spaghetti. The scones in question come from whatever coffee shop is borrowing her services to round out their live entertainment roster. Because they can't sell the day old stuff, and Rain is more than happy to bring them home to her family.

Kora catches her eye, and for a moment there's the open petulance of a young person there, brimming, clear and concealing something sadder. Then that fades, and the girl's shoulders straighten a little. Her breathing shallows slightly. It's faint, and momentary, but a wolf like Kora will most definitely notice it.

It unsettles the Gaian woman in way that Kora hasn't since she came to live with them. It's an echo of when she'd been Kora bangs-on-tables UnpronouncableLastName to the kinswoman.

Rain breathes out, closes her eyes for a half-second, and it's gone. She offers Kora and Roman each a little nod of agreement, and the matter drops.

"Maybe you can teach me how to make somethin' like that," she asks Sofie, indicating her handiwork on the table. If they were going to be housemates, it might come in handy to have shared repertoire. Or be friends.

[Sofie Janssen] "Oh sure." Sofie is only happy to help the pack, and friends out. It comes from being from a smaller community. Pushing off the counter, she leaves her soda behind and heads over to the chunk of meat. "You want some? I told Roman it's great with mustard. You should try."

"Roasts you just got to stick them in a hot oven, then stab them with a knife some way through, and if the juice comes out bloody you have to cook it longer." The woman talks as she goes about slicing off some more meat, whether Rain had said she wanted some or not. "There's some formula for cooking times and meat ratio, but forget about that. Just keep an eye on it every twenty minutes or so. Make sure it doesn't dry out."

[Jackson Montgomery] When it appears that--for the moment, at least--he's not in deep shit for not checking in with someone earlier, he relaxes just a tiny bit. He's content for the moment to drink the beer he was passed and get to know people by virtue of observing them.

[Linus] The Beer's gone by the time the others have calmed Rain down. If the Godi seems at all constrained by the effort, he doesn't let on. He frowns but only marginally, whilst pacing around the interior of the Kitchen. It's a minute or two before he's finally setting the empty bottle down and pulling his jacket together to zip back up again.

"There are some sweeps I want to do of the area between us and the Caern. I'm gonna go finish that and then check in with Hrafn, see if he's found anything else that might be of interest. I'll check back in later."

A roll of shoulders and head and the Godi flicks a glance into some of the chrome around the kitchen. The air pops and he's off into the flipside, doing an overnight.

(gotta head home here folks. Back later.)

[Drew Roscoe] "Ah yeah..." Drew remembers both occasions, she had been there after all. She didn't quite remember Remy at the Yule party because there were plenty of other things at the forefront of her mind, especially following the conversation she and Kora had in a bedroom no one else interrupted. The bar, though, there was a lot going on, too much for her to really remember Kora being there. She'd drank to the point of not caring that Remy and half the city's worth of Fianna had gotten into a fight that she couldn't recall the beginning of anymore.

But still, these all seemed like passings more than much else. Drew tucked her hands under her chin, warming them on the heat radiating through thin skin at her throat, and trotted on up the church steps. She'd watched a few faces go in before them while she'd gotten herself adjusted in the truck and then waited at the passenger door for Remy to join her. She knew there had to be some sort of a meeting that she didn't hear about... that or coincidence was carrying its hands rather heavy tonight.

Words lingered at her tongue, but none ever made it past there. So she was quiet, looking slightly conflicted, even as she lifted a hand, rapped three solid knocks onto the heavy double doors of the Church's front entrance, then opened them up without waiting for a response. The snow was kicked off her boots on the front step before she walked inside, pushing the door open enough for Remy to make it in behind her.

There wasn't much need to call out 'hello?', she could hear the voices resounding from the kitchen, could see the bodies in the visible sliver of doorway at the other side of the large sanctuary room. Rather she cleared her throat, sniffed against the residual effects of cold, and began to unbutton her coat as she walked with the faint 'clnk-clnk' of her low, broad heels toward the kitchen.

[Kora] Kora's nostrils flare as if she were scenting the air. It's a subtle thing, quietly lupine beneath the evenness of her steady gaze. Then the moment changes, the girl's breathing shallows. Beneath the surface of her fine, pale skin, the sense of the animal inside Kora sharpens. One can imagine her ears pricking, the long-distance steadiness as she moves while remaining fixed on a point distant.

Except she's human too, pregnant and still hungry. Kora pushes away from the table, stands and heads back toward the counter, inserting herself close enough to her brother, picking up a few stray slices of cooling roast and sliding onto her plate, not bothering with bread now.

"You should talk to Izzy," Kora says, lifting her chin at Jackson again. "I'm sure she has some stories that would make a killer cop movie." A brief, quiet pause, then a glance to Linus. "The doc found some information on the people who owned the rental house where Drew was attacked. Brought us some maps of their other places. I wonder if it any of them would line up with those dead rites you found."

A long shot, that. Still.

[Kora] (gah, sorry! I missed Linus' disappearance, and my screen stopped refreshing.)

[Rain McKellar] Rain was going to tell Sofie she wasn't hungry, that the soup she'd had at the Brotherhood had filled her up -- and mostly it had -- but the other kinswoman is slicing away already and Rain knows that you don't say no to a Fenrir with a great big knife.

No, Ma'am.

It'd be like telling Drew you didn't want seconds. Pointless. Utterly so.

"Mr. Jackson might want some. I'll share mine, if he does," she offers instead, knowing there was no way she could tackle the portion on her own. Oh yes, she as dragging him right back into this mess from the periphery.

And then, since the Godi had left and the room had still for a moment, she asked, "You all heard about Mr. Howard?" A beat. And if they hadn't, she'd explain a bit further. "Mr. Hunter was askin' Doctor Slaughter about some raised Spirals and strange rites earlier today."

Ah, yes, wonderful dinner talk. This was how it went in the packhouse. She's almost grateful when Drew's voice breaks in. Rain's smile will break away from tense and uneasy for her, for a moment, before it fades.

[Roman Turner] It just wasn't in his nature to chew out anyone for not reporting in or whatever, especially considering he was a nobody himself and no one reported in to him. For a moment he watched Jackson and Rain, then the sound of the door had his attention. Bad guys didn't knock. So he called out.

"In the Kitchen!"

[Izzy Montoya] He should talk to Izzy - who shakes herself from looking at the place Linus disappeared from - some things you never get used too. She arches a brow, slightly, and turns to give Jackson a long look over. There's a huff of amusement. "With names and places changed to protect the guilty, of course."

The innocents, she must mean. Or not. Never can tell with Izzy.

[Sofie Janssen] A glance is thrown over to Jackson. The look is similar to the way Kora's sharpness is, without the Rage. More to do with eyes and features then the potential of getting big and furry. "You want some?" There's slices of meat piling up, and still a quarter of the roast left. The pack has made a big dent in what it had started as. Some bread is sliced next, just a few.

Sofie doesn't know who Howard is. But she silences up, just getting some food ready for folks that want to eat it, as the others talk. It sounds serious. Rites and Spirals. It can't be good. She's half turned to keep an eye on the doorway with more people arriving.

[Jackson Montgomery] He smiles a little at Rain, chuckling. "I'm fine, honestly. Only if you're not hungry. I don't want to pull from anyone's share or anything when I'm perfectly able to get my own food later." He gives both her and Sofia appreciative smiles though.

His attention draws over ti Izzy and he grins. "Of course. I don't think I'm going to be producing any action blockbusters anytime soon, but if I do, I know who to come to for a technical consultant."

When Rain mentions Spirals his head turns her way, getting quiet. He's not the kind of insane kin to want to go getting involved in the hunt for the damned things, but he knows that it's serious business and not only should he shut up to let business be discussed, it's good to listen and be forewarned.

[Remy] Remy grabs the door from Drew, hauling it wider for his frame with considerable ease. Inside, temperatures are marginally higher. He pushes his hood down and tips his head back, looking at the distant arched ceiling, the span of the nave. The Get of Fenris rarely think well of White Christ, but Remy was an exception there, too. Churches feel familiar to him. Contemplative and peaceful. He has faint, dreamlike memories of candles flickering at the feet of saints, prayers offered up like smoke.

"This is Kora's packhouse, isn't it?" There's a faint echo through the walls, the halls. His voice is instinctively quiet. "Why're we coming here again?"

Someone calls out to them: in the kitchen! Remy lags a few steps behind Drew, not quite hurrying to follow the call just yet.

[Kora] "I heard the howl," Kora returns to Rain - a flashing look back to the kinswoman, brief but direct and sure as always. "His packmate paid chiminage for them both, in order to bury him among the graves." She says this quietly too; the vibrance an undercurrent to her quiet voice. While Sofie slices meat, Kora steals another pair of slices, takes them with her fingers. Peels away a mouthful of eats it at a go.

She's half-leaning back against the chipped formica countertop, yellow metal cabinets behind her. The place feels warm and alive only because there are so many people here, so many interweaving voices. Jackson goes quiet here, but Kora's dark eyes are drawn back to him. She's quiet, a moment - studying. Then, "There's a Hive to the north," Kora says, low-voiced. Loud enough to be heard around the kitchen, but clearly addressing the young film student. "In a suburb 40 miles or so away, called Elk Grove. It's off limits. We get incursions in the city regularly." A brief glance at Rain, then back to Jackson. " - so it's good to be wary."

[Rain McKellar] I'll share, she'd said. The little glint of gold around her neck said Gaian, but Rain had been all but raised into her place in the Nation by a Gnawer. It was something Roman and the rest of her Tribe struggled with, on a daily basis, and even though they were making headway with the young Unicorn, it didn't stop her from taking things like I'm fine, honestly a bit like a challenge.

Or a rebuff.

"I don't mind," she tells him, honeyed-drawl and all, as she picks up a second set of utensils as if she'd not really heard him. After all, Last Watch had taken in quite personally when another of their Tribe had refused hospitality. Maybe Rain was just tryin' to help. "I'm gonna get mustard, though; chef's recommendation. What do you want with your half?" she asks Jackson.

Focusing on this made it easier to handle the Rage in the hallway, that felt like an Ahroun trying to cram his presence into their kitchen doorway. Between that and Kora, her chest felt tight again. She brings her plate to where Jackson is standing, and offers him his weapons (cutlery), but there's a tension to her jaw now. An uneasiness that will make it difficult for her to eat her share.

[Izzy Montoya] She smirks, slightly, then tips her beer up for a long couple of swallows. It should be noted she didn't agree to become a technical consultant for anything. She didn't say no either, but she certainly didn't agree.

Then she puts together the bits about Howard. She looks to Rain, then Kora, and her mouth tightens briefly. She doesn't say anything, though, in the end, keeping her opinion to herself.

[Drew Roscoe] "Because," Drew starts, her tone matter of fact but light enough anyways. Roman calls out that they're in the kitchen, and Drew wonders for a moment who wouldn't have figured that in the first place. Their chatter is enough to be soft and constant, like the sound of many people gathered around food should be. The smell of recently cooked food was strong enough to clue in here as well. But she just slips her hands into her coat pockets and glances briefly over her shoulder, to Remy, who lagged behind and let his eyes take in all the faded religious symbols that the sanctuary had to offer.

"It's good to check in. To see if anything's needed of me. Who's new, who's dead... There's always news, and if I'm not proactive about keeping in touch then I'm afraid I'll fall away."

It was bald honesty, the kind that catches you by surprise sometimes. People don't admit fears so openly, not unless they're fishing for someone to do something for them, or some light-headed girl trying to charm a strapping young man into stepping up and being masculine enough to protect them from their fears. This wasn't like that, though. The moment passed quick enough as she stopped near the open doorway into the large kitchen, filled with warm bodies and the warmer smell of meat. There were two new faces she picked out immediately, but she addressed Kora first, because this was her place.

"Kora, nice to see ya." It is, of course, after the talk of the Hive and Elk Grove passes. "Everyone," to everyone else.

[Jackson Montgomery] He smiles a little bit to Rain, nodding with a little concession when she's not giving up. He passed once, she pressed, and he's got enough propriety to know you don't say no twice. "Mustard works."

He looks at Kora when she talks about the Hive, all levity vanishing from his face. He's clearly taking it seriously as he takes in the offered information, and nods. "Of course. I grew up in Los Angeles...we knew all about being wary when we were out. I'll be sure to stay the hell away from there, and to keep an eye out. Thanks."

He looks over at Drew she walks in, another new face to him. He smiles a bit to her in greeting. "Hi."

[Roman Turner] He'd moved a little closer to his own Kin, maybe hoping to be a buffer despite moving his own small rage closer to the pair. He'd called out to let the new arrivals know where to find them because it was the polite thing to do when someone came to calling, rather than leaving them roaming alone in your home. So when Drew entered his attention was firmly on the door and a small salute was given to her.

"Long time, no see Miss Drew. Last time ya came to call ya had trouble on your heels."

[Remy] If I'm not proactive, says the recent widow who looked about fifty years too young to bear such a title, I'm afraid I'll fall away.

That sort of bald honesty -- somewhere between defiance and poignancy -- surprises Remy's eyebrows a notch up his forehead. Then the corner of his mouth moves, a lopsided little offering of a smile, but by then she's turning to head into the kitchen.

For his part, the Godi lingers outside for a while, looking at the statues and the stained glass. Looking for a name or two, specifically -- but then the scent of food pulls him away, wandering through the doors into the kitchen. By then he's unsnapped and unzipped his jacket, the sides of which are swept back by his elbows -- hands in his back pockets. He looks around at the gathered, then nods at them.

"Hey," he says. He fills the doorway: solid, so thick across the shoulders and the chest that he looks less than his six-feet-nothing of height. "I'm Rémy."

[Sofie Janssen] Food distributed and folks helping themselves, Sofie moves out the way again, across the kitchen to where there's some breathing room and her rucksack tucked by the counter. Her soda is half way gone and it's warmer now then when it was first opened. She picks it up and turns back to watch Drew and Remy give hellos.

"Hey." She greets along with the chorus of others. Her gaze tracks. Pretty girls everywhere. Pretty men too. They don't make Fenrir like that back home. Pale blues watch, sharper.

[Rain McKellar] By the time Roman moved over to help shield them from the incoming Rage, Rain had pretty much lost her appetite. She took a few bites, and assured Sofie that it was really good, but the plate found it's way to Jackson's keeping, or Roman's, or the counter's long before Rain finished her part. And the songbird, fragile as she wasn't, positioned herself as close to the familiar Ragabash as was reasonable.

"Miss Drew, Mr. Jackson," she manages, introducing the two with a tip of her head, whenever conversation allowed. She's watchful of Remy. More than. Wary.

[Roman Turner] He wasn't a tall guy, though fortunately at his age he had years yet of growing space. Still right then as he stood next to Rain they were shoulder to shoulder in height. Also, his rage was such a small thing that compared to most, he was a lot less to pay attention to. Remy entered behind Drew and said his name, so being the polite person Roman gave a little wave saying.

"Howdy Remy. I'm Roman."

[Drew Roscoe] Roman gets a chuckle and an answering touch of a salute, a tap of fingers to her forehead that fly away lazily, and Drew shrugged her way out of her coat, leaving her in that clingy powder blue sweater top. She folded the jacket over her arms and held it near her stomach. "No blood trail for that brand of trouble to follow tonight."

Jackson and Sofie are both greeted with a flash of a smile that is small but easy. Without effort it draws in trust and affection. She's used this appeal to charm tips out of customers and her way into decent paying jobs on only the first interview. The only unfortunate thing was it didn't typically work in life-or-death situations. That's what the gun in her truck was for. Her fingers wiggle loosely in a wave to the pair, and then Remy's slipping in behind her, following his nose more than anything else into the kitchen.

He introduces himself so she doesn't have to. She instead steps to the side, just enough to let Remy through so she's not blocking the doorway any longer, but lingers nearby it rather than making herself at home in the kitchen right off the bat.

[Jackson Montgomery] He smiles and nods once more to Drew, then looks over at Remy. He's staying close to Rain's side at the moment, and her wary look toward Remy earns the Get a look, before he looks back to his fellow kin.

[Kora] "Drew," says Kora. It's easy to great her first. She's standing now, leaning back against the counter close to the half-eaten roast cooling beneath its tent of foil, with a plateful of slices and the glisten of fat on the tips of her long fingers. Rémy comes in after, and then Kora straightens, standing up, no longer leaning back, backside resting against the counter. The room's warm, full of people. It's large too, an old church kitchen, the walls flanked with metal cabinets, illuminated by lanterns, the odd lamp.

There's an antique fridge, but no hum to say it's working. Just a bunch of coolers and other make-shift means of heating the shared space and cooling the shared food.

"Rémy." Roman introduces himself, and Kora inserts, after, "Roman's my packmate. Jackson and Rain," she indicates each with a brief nod of her pale head, the thick coil of her long hair pulling against her hood with the movement. " - are his kin. Sofie," another nod, " and Detective Montoya," again, they are marked out, clear and direct with brief tips of her head. " - are ours. There's meat and bread if you want it. Beer if you'd rather. Chocolate milk's mine, though."

A moment, an afterthought, her generous mouth curving into a subtle half-smile. "And the plum sauce." A mental nudge at poor Linus, wherever he was.

[Izzy Montoya] As she's pointed out, there's a moment of something - appreciative even - that goes through her gaze at Kora's choice of introduction. It passes through her eyes, then away again when she turns toward Remy and lifts her beer in hello, before allowing it to travel the rest of the way to her lips for another swallow.

She's been quiet - but not inattentive. Watching. Waiting - though for what is still in question. She's as comfortable as she is willing to get, and remains leaning back against the counter, watching.

[Rain McKellar] Jackson's looking to her for some sort of cue, but really all there is to pick up on is how profoundly ill at ease Rage makes the smaller Gaian. That there's something about the confluence of all these temperments together that makes her spine stretch and her jaw tighten. And it's worse, today, than it's been in a long time. She'd been softening, growing a bit less wary since she met up with Last Watch. But the kin is all but hiding behind Roman and Jackson tonight, if she could use them to physically distance herself from the rest of the room she would. And she bristled at Kora catching her eye -- which hasn't happened in weeks.

Introductions go around again, and Rain doesn't pipe up to offer her name to the new True.

When the girl does open her mouth, it's to say: "I'm gonna go put my guitar away." And that's quiet enough that Roman and Jackson will hear it, possibly Kora if she's near enough by. Then Rain will muster up the courage to politely slip past whoever's in the doorway and back out into the Sanctuary where there was a little more room to breathe.

[Remy] The two kin of Unicorn are both eyeing him with varying levels of distrust and discomfort. Remy eyeballs them right back, then snags up a bottle of beer and twists the top off.

"I can tell which kin are ours," he says, and shows sharp white teeth with a sharp half-smile. "They aren't flinching." And he nods to the two of them, "Sofie. Montoya." Then the rest of them, "Rest of ya."

He's easy with the American slang, easy with american contractions and slurs on the words. Despite that, there's a hint of muddy, blurry accent in his words -- and his pronunciation of Remy was perfect, very french. He leans his brawny body against the wall and takes a swig of beer, then nudges Drew with the side of his foot.

"Drew brought me here," he says. "She wanted to know if there was anything she could be doing to help."

[Jackson Montgomery] Jackson himself is far from comfortable with the level of Rage in the room; being away from Sept life for a little while has meant that at best he had his father and siblings do deal with, and they were busy enough that he never had to deal with them all in one group. Still, he has no problem with Rain being behind him, despite the fact that she could probably fight better than he. It's a guy thing.

Remy's snark causes his jaw to set subtly, but that's the strongest reaction he gives. He just crosses his arms, leaning back and slipping into observer mode once more.

[Sofie Janssen] Since it seems they are all about to hang about, except for Rain who is ducking out to her guitar, Sofie leaves her rucksack where it is, on the floor by a counter and out of the way, and moves across to grab one of those few chairs that aren't taken. Screw standing anymore.

Setting her soda on the table, she had chuckled low in her throat at Remy's remark, and shed her jacket. Its left over the back of the chair before she sits. A pair of fade wash jeans, a simple blue sweater, and a pair of hiking boots makes for a very casual, low key affair. Her scarf is tossed over the chair with her jacket. The knit cap is safely stowed into the jacket pocket.

She sits and stretches out her legs, crossing them at her ankles and settles in to listen to the Garou talk before she's going to say anything herself. But that will come.

[Roman Turner] Well the mention of ours told him exactly what Tribe Remy belonged to. He like Sofie, made himself comfortable, pulling up to sit on the counter.

"There's flinching and then there's survival instinct. Sometimes it's a bit hard to tell the difference, especially if you through in a dose of common sense."

[Jackson Montgomery] "Well put," he says to Roman as he leans back against something to eat the plate that Rain passed off to him.

[Kora] Kora straightens enough to allow Rain to slip past her; cuts a look in her wake until she disappears in the shadows of the dark hall. The sanctuary will be a relief, sharp and clear, cold. Despite Linus' tarps, there are places where icicles hang from the spine of the roof like stalactites. Places where the moon shines through the windows, glinting on the shards of broken stained glass.

"You're welcome," says Kora, pronouncing it well-come if only by the subtle shift of internal stress. She's precise with it; her accent broadly American - suburban rather than regional, muddied from a life on the move (or the run). "Anytime." This is for Rémy, clear from the directness of her dark blue eyes.

Then her expression changes, her generous mouth twists easily and her pale brows rise in subtle question as her attention cuts from the Godi to the kinswoman. "Did she?" Kora asks, attention settled on Drew in that moment. It's not snark, this. There's a sort of challenge there, embedded under the skin of that look. "Did you find a place, yet?"

[Roman Turner] ((Even if I put in Through instead of Throw! Gah))
to Drew Roscoe, Izzy Montoya, Jackson Montgomery, Kora, nemean, Rain McKellar, Remy, Sofie Janssen, sunglasses

[Sofie Janssen] "Hey, Roman," Sofie perks from where she is. Before the words are even out, the thought along has her mouth curving and her teeth flashing in a fierce grin at him. "You know all this shindig is missing, is some two step? You know, how you were showing me earlier?"

[Rain McKellar] In the sanctuary, Rain dropped into the pew beside her guitar and leaned against the hard, straight back. She could hear the echo of their voices out here, but it was easier to ascribe to just background noise. She didn't listen too closely for another jab from Remy, or her own Tribe defending her.

This space is cold after the press of bodies and voices in the tighter confines of the kitchen. It's cold and filled with moonlight and dream-like icicles hanging from the ceiling. There is no idol of any Faith of man, but rather Luna's touch painting everything gently argent.

She'll stay there, for a moment. Longer. Long enough for the quiet to and cold to seep into her finger bones. Maybe longer than she meant to. And then she'll go and put her guitar and coat away, like she'd told the others, and contemplate her potential (but unlikely) return to the kitchen.

[Remy] Remy, like so many bullied kids -- and you can bet your ass he was bullied by the other Fenrir, what with a name like that and a face that pretty -- seems to instantly and naturally gravitate toward bullying in his own right once the pressure's taken off. He smirks at Roman, then knocks back his beer again.

"Spoken like a true Coggie," he says. "All praise-of-mediocrity."

[Roman Turner] He cast a grin Sofie's way as he slid back down from the counter, brushing crumbs off his backside.

"I'd be honored Miss Sofie, though if you would excuse me for a moment, I'm gonna see what's eating at Miss Rain."

God he hoped it wasn't that time of month or something equally horrifying. What if she was having female problems? It was with the mental nudge from Kora that he headed out of the kitchen to drop down in the pew next to Rain.

"Spill it. What's stuck in your craw?"

[Remy] [ack! what the hell! it wasn't refreshing *catches up*]

[Drew Roscoe] Remy nudges at her foot with the side of his own, and she just huffs softly at the gesture, but the smile that she'd greeted people with doesn't leave her completely. There was something companionable with Remy, relaxed and faint... but the stress is on the word relaxed. She didn't really seem to notice or care about the good looks. Anyone who saw the face of her mate would know that they weren't the most important thing for her, after all.

The nudge and mention has Kora's attention, and she's addressing Drew with something close to a challenge in her eyes. Drew looks slightly surprised by the expression, but recalls quickly enough the moon outside. She'd gotten into the habit of keeping track of the moon phases so she knew when to tread lightly and who to do so about.

"I did." There's a pause, eyes going distant for half a second while she remembers where the lake is in accordance to where she stands and figures out her directions from there. That moment passes and she's gesturing somewhere to her right, vaguely, to indicate distance. "A few blocks out of the neighborhood, but close enough that it's not much of a drive to reach you guys here. The landlord's a poker buddy of my good friend Ted Rhodes. I think I can trust him."

[Izzy Montoya] Remy's comments get her attention, and a long unreadable gaze from the Detective. after a moment, or two, she turns and makes sure the counter behind her is clear, before sliding up to sit on it, her feet thumping against the cupboard underneath her lightly.

[Jackson Montgomery] And just like that, he's the lone Child of Gaia in the room. He watches Roman head off and then falls quiet again, his attention devoted tracking the conversation between the others and not thinking about the last time he was purely surrounded by members of the Garou Nation that were of his tribe.

[Rain McKellar] She eyed the Ragabash beside her, pulling her attention down from the roofline only after he'd settled as a warm and weighty presence on the pew beside her. Rain's jaw tightens, a little, and then recants.

"Howard died," she tells him. It's such an empty sound. There's no resonance at all to it. It's like she's too tired to even sound sad, just now, but Roman has to know she felt it. Maybe it's a day long of feeling that, and going to work anyway, and trying to open up to new people that's burned her out just now.

"He's just... gone. Like Ennar. Just gone."

She breathes out and pushes her back further against the pew, pulls her coat into her lap and wraps her arms around it.

"And I ran into Hunter." Hunter, whose Rage exceeded her capacity to cope on a good day. "It just --" she frowns. "He's more than I can take on a good, and today weren't a good one, Roman. Nothin' happened, and I don't blame him for being angry. But it's like an itch, y'know? I can't help bein' uneasy just now and it's nobody's fault."

[Sofie Janssen] She snickers quietly at Roman and watches him leave the room, drinking down soda that sits uncomfortable in her stomach.

While Remy may be making the room tense, Sofie brushes that off for the most part. Fenrir kin, generally, are used to ball busters in one way or the other, and navigate around it. At least they should be able to when they have high breeding.

She watches Jackson, another new face in the place, be left alone. "Hey," she calls to him, "you want to take a seat?" It's an offer not to be an immediate target from the Get of Fenris. Not that Sofie looks like all warmth either. But she got him food earlier. She can't be all that bad.

[Jackson Montgomery] "Hmm?" His attention is directed over to Sofie. "Oh...yeah, thanks." He nods and moves to sit down, giving her an appreciative smile.

[Roman Turner] "I'm sorry Rain. I never got to meet Howard, he never came to the Caern, never made himself known. But I understand ya felt like he was a friend, and I grieve for your loss. As for Hunter, ain't heard of him either, what Tribe is that one? Ya need me to talk to him for ya?"

He slipped an arm around her shoulders and gently rubbed her far shoulder with his hand.

"Ain't nothing I can say that will ease the pain of sudden loss, unfortunately death is just part of life. We borrow these moments and eventually have to give them back to move on. Howard's moved on to the next great adventure, be glad he's had the chance to break the way ahead. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't want folk crying over him."

[Sofie Janssen] "So what were you saying before?" After Jackson has sat down, she gives him her attention. Sometimes her gaze strays to Kora and Remy, but only in quick flicks. "You're studying at University was it?" She had only been paying part attention. "I never went to college. What's it like? Are you part of a Fraternity? I was talking to Roman earlier, and he was saying something about the Brotherhood, have you heard of it? Sounds like a Fraternity to me."

Pause.

"Not that I'd know."

[Kora] There's a subtle look up at Rémy's remark about Coggies; just a glance, without comment. The look is level, brief and sure; she's holding the plate full of meat just at mid-chest level, but not eating now. And as the Godi drinks his beer, Kora leans back once more against the countertop, bracing herself, feet in front of her, the pose casual and comfortable.

"The Doc brought me some information on that rental company that owned the place you were looking at when you were attacked. Maps of their other properties and the like. We discovered a nest of cursed humans in one of them last year." A spare, subtle flicker across her mouth. Not a smile. "Can't be a coincidence."

There's the news Drew came looking for, quietly offered as Kora snares and devours a strip of meat, licking the juices from her lips, after. It's cold now, the roast, but it does not seem to bother the Skald. "What help did you mean to offer?"

[Rain McKellar] "Nah," she says, about talking to Hunter. She leans her shoulder into him a bit and lets a little more of the tension slake from her small frame as she listens to the Ragabash talk. It's comforting. It makes her smile, faintly.

"I know," she tells him. Low and somewhat wearily. "I know, and it's not the first person I've lost. And it won't be the last. It just... doesn't stop it from hurting when it happens. And it shouldn't, stop that is. Someone's gotta ache. It's part of bein' remembered.

"Speakin' of remembered," she says, turning to glance over at him a bit. "He was a bit of a jerk, you know, but he was nicer t' me than almost any of Stag's I've met. I'm gonna to go to the wake at Quinn's place. But you're right, 'snothing to worry over for too long." She offers her a steadier smile. It tells him she'll be fine, even though she's got a ways to go on that yet.

[Jackson Montgomery] "Film school, yes." He smiles. "I'm not part of a fraternity or anything, no. Flashpoint doesn't have, as they like to call the fraternities, a Greek system." He takes a breath and shrugs. "It's great. I mean, I'm studying something that I love, and I'm becoming better at what I do best. What more can you ask for out of life, you know?"

[Sofie Janssen] "Oh. Film school." That knocks her enthusiasm back a little. She regards Jackson sitting by her, a little longer and harder. "What, you learn about movies? How to make them? Or?"

"Do you do documentaries? Like environmental issues and all that? I really hope you're not into that whole Hollywood mainstream shit." Because Sofie is trying to figure out how film school is helping the Garou save Gaia and all that. Not that it's really any of her business. She's just got an open opinion.

[Drew Roscoe] "Nah... Coincidences like that don't tend to happen. Not when we'd benefit from it anyways."

With that said, Drew's rubbing her fingers under her eyes, scrubbing at the lower eyelid until she feels like whatever was bothering her was sufficiently rubbed away. Then she's back to holding the coat. She relaxes a little more as others seem to do so as well-- Remy with his beer, Kora against the counter, Izzy sitting on the other counter, Sofie and Jackson at the table... Roman and Rain went out into the sanctuary and Drew made no move to stop them or pay too much attention to Rain's half-hearted attempt to give a reason to cover up why she was leaving the room.

It wasn't her place to pry into Rain's motives or emotions, and to try would be pushy and assumptive anyways. Rather, she stays in the kitchen and speaks with Kora.

"Monetary. And room and board overflow if necessary, but not permanently. A wolf called Fire Claws shared my space the night before. Helped me remember that I'm here to help, not to hide out." She shrugs casually and glances briefly past Kora, toward the other three Kin in the room like she was having a moment of self-consciousness, but blotted that out quickly enough and was speaking again. "I make more than enough money for just myself. The rest is accumulating pretty quickly. So... food, clothes, raw materials... Whatever you guys need just give me a heads up."

[Roman Turner] "No, when someone ya care about is no longer there, it leaves an empty spot."

He wasn't sure just how involved Rain was with Howard but to feel so much loss and grief, it had to be a lot more than the relationship he had with Rain. This all flickered through his mind as he offered what comfort he could on the matter.

"And there are times ya just want pick up the phone and call the person to share something in your day with them, that's when it hits ya that ya can't. Eventually over time, folk forget the irritating parts of others once they are gone, and only remember the good. This might happen with you and time does help a body deal with grief a little easier. It doesn't make it go away and sometimes it blind sides ya, but it does help ease the sharp stab some."

He patted her shoulder again.

"I'm sorry ya lost your fella Miss Rain."

[Izzy Montoya] Her gaze flicks to Drew and Kora, to Remy who's taken a breath between his bullying, to Jackson and Sophie as they talk film school. She keeps track of the multiple conversations, yet joins none of them at the moment.

It's somewhat odd, to not see her mouthing off. But then again, perhaps it's not so unusual after all, once someone gets to know her.

She is tired, though - exhausted by the tole her job takes on her, by the fact that her chosen partner is gone incommunicado and no one can tell her if he is allright, or if he is dead. It shows in the bags under her eyes, and perhaps even in the very fact that she is quietly observing, rather than actively taking part.

[Jackson Montgomery] "I have done a documentary, yes. That's one of the things I'm looking to do." He's used to being grilled about the uselessness of his chosen profession, and even with Sofie taking it in a more curious way, he's seen the signs and has his response. "There are a lot of great grassroots causes that the public could find out about, that would make them more sympathetic toward doing the right thing. I did a short piece on bottled water and how it really wasn't doing anyone any good because of the level of toxins put into the water. People think about that, they're less likely to buy it. Which makes them more reliant on tap water, which in turn makes them more likely to treat water sources well. Not to mention that the big corporation selling the bottled water loses support and sales."

He smiles. Obviously, he hasn't reached many people with this little documentary, but it's the point that matters. "And outside of documentaries, regular feature films can help too. In ways you wouldn't think."

[Rain McKellar] "Wait...what?"

Roman patted her shoulder and said something about... No. No that made little sense at all. And Rain, who was not possessed of Rage, proved that kin have no less changeable moods when she twisted on the pew to pointedly ask him a question.

"My fella?" And that, Roman, is something akin to indignation. "You have got to stop that. First Milo. Then Howard?" Roman had too much between his ears to think that just because she was sad when someone died they'd been involved. Or he was testing her.

Oh, he's a... no moon. A Ragabash. Rain reaches up to scrub the heel of her palm against her hairline. "Damnit, Roman," she muttered as she realized she'd likely fallen into a no-moon trap.

[Sofie Janssen] As Jackson talks, her face brightens a little. She's not closed minded by any means. "Oh yeah? Bottled water. You got a point there. All the plastic, that's the problem. But you probably know more about that than I do."

She takes a moment to drink down some of her soda, having to tilt her head back since she's getting towards the end of it. Then sets it down on the table in front of her, turning it with idle fingers, as she looks back at him. "I suppose I see it. It's kinda like telling a story, right? Lots of money for those movies. Lots of ruining some places to create sets, or tromping into wilderness with big crews. But I get it. Morals through stories, right?"

[Roman Turner] "I ain't the one grieving over some fella, you are. In order to feel this much loss, this much depression, ya have to have had more than a passing friendliness with the fella. I mean, I might be regretful if say, Sofie died. I'd be angered, I'd feel sorrow, but I barely know her. It would not be the same at this point in our knowing each other, to cause me undue stress like losing someone like say, Miss Doctor Slaughter would. Why? Because I have known Miss Doctor Slaughter longer. I have known her deeper. I have shared near death experiances with her. Shared food, laughter and grief with her. Yet still if I have to catalog my grief level, I would not grieve as great for her loss as I would for say my folks. Ya see? Each thing in our lives bear a certain level of closeness and loss. If ya grieving his much over Howard, I have to assume there was more than a passing how do you do with him."

[Kora] "Trent and Rain and - " a subtle lift of her place, she moves it the way she would a beer bottle if she were offering a toast. " - now Sofie keep us pretty well supplied, but the boys are always hungry. That said, Linus and Roman have a few projects around here, yeah? Li's been trying to patch the roof over, and Roman's been repairing another bathroom. You might talk to them, see if you can give them a hand."

A pause, a brief quirk of her curving mouth. " - or at least, a ride to Home Depot."

[Jackson Montgomery] He nods. "And that's why you stay out of the studio system as much as possible. Try to finance your films independently if you can, use green methods to make it. Once you've made it and it's good, THEN you take it to festivals--Sundance, Cannes, Tribeca or one of the many, many other ones, and you sell it to a studio for distribution." A beat. "And you fight like hell to keep final cut. If you can do that, well..."

He smiles a little. He's in his element right now. He's argued this so many times, but he never lost the passion for his argument. "Whether people believe it or not, films have power. I guarantee that a lot less people who saw Bambi as a kid hunt. There's a reason for that...emotional resonance. And if it can be applied in the right way, minds can be changed. You know?"

[Remy] Remy's eyebrows flicked upward when it's mentioned that Howard -- the little leprechaun comes to mind -- died. Then condolences are being expressed, and grief, and other pretty sentiments.

Remy keeps his mouth shut. He was taught not to speak ill of the dead; his face says plenty, though. Most of it along the likes of dislike and distrust and, god help him: good riddance.

He slugs down the last of his beer and rockets the empty bottle into a trash can. Then he straightens up.

"What happened to his packmate?" The conversation's moved on considerably by then; stubbornly, Remy pulls it back. "The pipsqueak's. Patrick."

[Sofie Janssen] "Yeah, I do." Sofie nods. She may not be well educated, but it doesn't make her stupid, and she's the sort of curious type that will wrap her hands around knowledge given to her. Being in the city has her exposed to a great deal more things outside of home town and a Sept orientated lifestyle. "A story, especially a good story has a way of sticking."

"And like you said, resonating." That's a good word, that.

[Rain McKellar] "Y' ever stop to think for a minute that maybe I feel differently 'cause I'm me and not you?" her tone's a little sharper than she means tonight. She schools it back toward something more neutral where she can. "I don't have someone like that, what you're implyin' all the time. Maybe I will in time, but I just care about people.

"I didn't grow up in all this. It's been some years, sure, but it's still raw some times. For what it's worth," she tells him, pushing herself up off the bench and starting to gather up her things. "I'd be a lot more upset if it were you. Or Miss Kora. Or even Linus." The Godi gets no honorific just now. Instead Rain picks up her guitar with a bit of a jerk, and takes a step away.

Before she remembers herself. And stops. Roman hadn't dismissed her or said that she could go. When she's upset, she falls back on those older, ingrained expectations.

[Drew Roscoe] There's news of a death floating about, and Drew had been doing her fair best not to pay too much attention to it. She recognized the name more when Remy mentioned the packmate than standing on its own. He was the curly-haired guy that had tried to help serenade her in that bar, but only managed to sour her mood further. The one that had appeared with the Ahroun at the door of the church to make noise and a fool of himself and his... not packmate? Friend? She didn't know. She wouldn't know. She didn't know him well enough to spare grief.

Acknowledgment, that was more the word for what she was hearing here.

Kora spoke of Home Depot projects and Drew grinned brightly and leaned back into the doorframe she stood before. "My dad's a carpenter. He taught me a thing or two, I could probably find some spare time on my off days to come by and help out."

And so she, after a moment of thought, goes to fetch herself a beer, letting Remy and Kora talk about this Patrick guy, the one she hardly remembered because she'd met him once before, only once, and that was when she was a few beers under.

[Jackson Montgomery] "Exactly." He relaxes a little more, nodding. "We have to hit 'em on all fronts. Just because they've got the power of big business behind them doesn't mean we can't fight back in the hearts and minds department."

[Roman Turner] "Apparently ya do feel different than I do. I'm not discounting your loss Miss Rain, I'm just trying to put this is perspective. Ya tell me ya grieving, then ya tell me he weren't all so nice to ya sometimes. Yet I see a level of grief I just guess I ain't smart enough, caring enough to understand."

He rose shaking his head, dragging a hand back through his hair. Maybe she needed chocolate or one of the those Midal pills? All he knew for sure was he would never understand women if he lived to be a thousand and this was one of those moments when it was best to cut his losses and get the hell out of ground zero.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Mumbled before he walked stiff backed for the kitchen.

[Rain McKellar] Roman keeps trying to make sense of Rain, which is likely a fool's errand. So he goes off, stiff backed, and she lugs her guitar off to slide it under her bunk and neither of them have really resolved anything. And while she's brought someone to the pack and introduced them, Rain will prove a horrible host tonight when she stays in that backroom and focuses on something in a notebook rather than rejoining the Fenrir social hour in the kitchen.

[Thanks, everyone, for the scene! Sorry my kin's in a grouchy mood!]

[Remy] "Hey." Of the few positive things one might say about Remy -- pretty being the chief one -- 'patient' was not amongst the list. "You guys all deaf? I asked what happened to pipsqueak's packmates."

[Kora] Rémy holds his tongue, but doesn't school his expression. Kora's dark eyes sharpen in his direction; glinting in the stark light shed by the lanterns in the room. There are windows here, all boarded over with several layers of plywood for insulation. The only sense of moving air comes from the hallway.

Drew finds three or four local microbrews to chose from. Nevermind that the pack lives a squatter's life in an abadoned church. That Kora, pregnant, is not drinking beer now, despite her mate's assurance that a drink or two wouldn't hurt anything: she still buys good stuff.

Pipsqueak, then, Rémy calls the dead man. Kora's expression darkens, the frisson of irritation asserts itself in her brow, in the spark of light from her dark eyes. She swallows it back a moment later - but that energy lingers in her voice, intent.

"He paid chiminage to Maelstrom to bury his packmate. Burnout and Killswitch came with him to bring body to the Caern, and the Bone-Grinder offered him a place with his pack."

[Sofie Janssen] "Alright." Her teeth flash in a grin at Jackson. "You won me over. I won't belittle your movie making career choices." The young woman is joking with him. Pale eyes, blue, are also bright behind the sharpness. The pupil of them is as black as the jacket hanging over the chair behind her; a stark contrast.

"Maybe you could meet with some friends of mine," she says, open with her thoughts. "They do a few things, you know, uh.. . like there's some protests for whaling. Obviously not here. But, you get my idea. They could feed you some info and visa verse."

[Roman Turner] When he passed back in to the kitchen he went straight for the cooler and a beer. Never needing a drink more in his life. The look he passed to Kora was accompanied by thoughts only he, Kora and Linus could share at this time.

~I don't know what to do with her, maybe she needs to talk to another woman?~

What did he know about women anyway? He was freaking sixteen and three quarters. He'd never even had a date, much less a girlfriend. He'd not spent time wooing, sucking face or learning to understand women. Beer, beer he understood. So he turned his attention to seeing just how much he could drink as fast as he could.

[Izzy Montoya] Roman heads toward the cooler, just as Izzy finishes her beer.

She idly comments as he digs for his... "Toss me one, will ya, Roman?"

[Sofie Janssen] Remy mouths off, and Sofie glances over. Her gaze shifts from him to Kora, Roman as he passes, then back to Remy. She doesn't say a word on the topic. She doesn't know. It's not her place.

[Jackson Montgomery] "Yeah, absolutely." He nods at Sofie's suggestion. "Definitely. I mean, I'm not making anything major yet...still in school, but..." He drives off when Remy gets everyone's attention, glancing his way, but since he has no clue he looks back over to Roman when he walks in. His brow furrows and he rises. "Excuse me, Sofie..." He heads to Roman.

[Roman Turner] "Yessum."

He turned to fish another beer out, handing it to Izzy before he sat next to her and cracked his open. The beer was tilted back after he touched his bottle to Izzy's.

"Here's to oblivion."

Jackson came his way and he was polite enough to offer his beer to the man.

"Thirsty?"

[Remy] Seconds after Remy barks for an answer, Kora supplies one. The Godi, who's leaned against the wall this whole time steadily chugging down a beer, snaps his dark-eyed attention around. Listens. Makes a low grunting noise of acknowledgment.

"At least somebody learned something from the whole charade." A pause, as he's straightening up. Maybe to go. "Can I ask something, Rhya?" Not much of a pause. "You didn't like me calling him a pipsqueak, and you didn't like me telling what I thought about him with my face. That's cool. You don't have to agree with me.

"But why didn't you say something about it?"

[Jackson Montgomery] "Yeah, sure actually." He nods. "But more to the point...is she okay?" He jerks his thumb toward where Roman came from.

[Drew Roscoe] Drew snaps open the lid of her beer bottle, selecting something darker out of the cooler than the other options, and rolls the lid in between her fingers tucked under the jacket she was still carrying around-- her visit must not have been intended to be too long if she was only having one beer and had yet to sit down or put her coat anywhere. She took a deep drink of the stuff from her bottle, glanced briefly to Izzy, then back to Roman, and clucked her tongue against the back of her teeth. "You'll probably want to slow down and let your stomach keep up with you."

The advice is soft and friendly. A warning that he'll make himself sick rather than a scolding that he was too young to be getting drunk. She's taking another drink and walking back over nearer to Remy, hovering and listening in on the conversation while nursing her dark microbrew and keeping close to the doorway between sanctuary and kitchen. Her body language suggested that she wanted to leave soon. It's difficult to describe how it reads that way, but trust that it's a subtle language of weight shifting and leaning shoulders toward the exit that almost every woman could and would execute by the time they were nineteen years old.

[Sofie Janssen] Nodding her chin at Jackson, she settles back with her empty soda can on the table, and watches the interaction between the two Get of Fenris. It was a good display to see how things are done here in Chicago. Well, between these two anyway. She's only seen the pack interact for the most part.

[Roman Turner] Jackson asked him the most impossible question in the world. Was Rain ok? Oh hell for all he knew she was stark raving mad, or she was an angel. She could of been either, yet right now he was so clueless he wouldn't know without a neon arrow pointing to the correct answer.

"Honestly? I have no idea. She's upset about this Howard fella and all I managed to do was get her dander up. I might as well of stuck a burr up her butt."

His exhale was part frustration and regret.

[Izzy Montoya] The corner of her mouth tips dangerously toward a smile when Roman hands her another beer, toasts and hops up to sit next to her. She returns the clink of her bottle, the slight toast and lifts the beer to her lips for a healthy couple of swallows. She watches jackson as he arrives, and flicks a glance toward Sofie.

Drew mother's Roman, and walks away again. Jackson asks of Rain and Roman professes his frustration. Izzy chuckles, and exaggerates a sigh. "Women." Evidence she works in a male dominated field, there.

[Jackson Montgomery] He frowns a little bit and nods. "You know her better than me. Will I make it worse if I try to talk to her?"

[Roman Turner] "Seriously?"

He snorted at Jackson.

"Ya can't possibly make it worse, believe me."

[Kora] Kora finishes the last slice of meat on her plate and sets it on the counter behind her; a brief, swinging look directed now toward her packmate. She watches him move through the crowded kitchen, her face distant. There's no response from Kora on their shared spirit-line. Just that look.

Which is followed by a mirroring look, sharper back toward Rémy. She's standing up now, straight through the shoulders and the spine, chin high, her look direct - level across the distance. "I have my reasons," she says. A glance at the kin that may be instinctive - or explanatory - is left to the quiet context of body language. Her eyes return to Rémy, then - dark eyed look naked but latched somehow, like a door half-closed. "And you got the message. I don't care what you think about the living, but I won't hear that about the dead.

"Now. You're welcome to stay as long as you like. Excuse me," this with a look towards Roman, Sofie, Jackson. Kora stops at the door long enough to grab her coat and scarf from the hook, then disappears out down the hall, shrugging her way into her coat, buttoning up with deft, sure fingers before wrapping the scarf around her neck - once, twice, thrice.

Her footsteps echo down the hall, a long stride, quiet but not silent. Then she's in the sanctuary, a glance up for the moon, the bright points of the stars visible through the ribs of roof, far above. The air is so cold that the moisture it it seems to crystallize inside her lungs as she breathes.

[Drew Roscoe] "Huh." Drew's finishing up her beer at Remy's side, tipping her chin toward the ceiling along with the butt of the bottle to get the last drink out before searching for a trash bin and depositing of the empty dark-amber glass. She pulls her jacket on as well and grins, faintly, over to the Godi. "I think you charmed her."

She looks toward Roman, Izzy, and Jackson, and the smile broadens, brightens considerably. "I think we'll be on our way, just dropped in for a quick chat. Good to see you guys." General greetings were easier than individual ones, quicker and less telling. She buttoned her coat up from bottom to collarbone and lifted her eyebrows to the handsome man that had escorted her in (or was it the other way around?).

"Shall we?"

[Kora] (that you for the scene! :) )

[Jackson Montgomery] He frowns again, but nods. "Well...worth a shot." He takes a beer and heads out of the kitchen, nodding to people he passes on the way to Rain.

[Izzy Montoya] Kora makes her exit, and Izzy watches her go, her expression unreadable. She finally lifts the bottle to her lips, takes another swallow to hide the tense of muscles at her jaw, the reaction flickering away just as quick as it arrived.

[Sofie Janssen] Since Remy and Drew have waltzed in, Rain had escaped and hadn't returned. Roman had come back in a foul mood, and now Kora takes her leave after throwing some cutting looks around. Sighing out long and audible, she looked between Remy and Drew.

"Should piss on the welcoming mat next time, while you're at it." Is her parting shot as the two, now done damage - well Remy really, get ready to leave now that the nice little buzz is read ruined.

[Roman Turner] "Yeah ok. Well ya know where to find me."

He saluted Jackson with the beer and took another swig. Kora had left, likely pissed off. Rain had been pissed off. And what did do? He bumped shoulders with Izzy and echoed her word.

"Women."

[Remy] Remy opens his mouth to reply, but A) Kora leaves and B) Sofie pipes up. His head snaps around the other way; tilts at a strange, feral angle.

"What did you say to me?"

[Roman Turner] He cleared his throat.

"My home. My guest."

[Sofie Janssen] "I said, you might as well piss on the welcoming mat next time." Sofie says from where she's sitting at the table. She doesn't get up. Her eyes meet his. They probably won't for very long, but for the moment they do. She doesn't sound angry.

Roman says something.

"It's just I was raised, you don't walk in eat someone's food, drink their beer, and talk trash in their home. Something about respecting territory and all that." She won't take her eyes of Remy, even if she wants to glance around to Roman. "Sorry."

[Izzy Montoya] He bumps her shoulder, and she actually chuckles. It's a soft, warm sound, in all actuality.

Then it fades, instantly, with Remy's snap. The tension weaves through her spine, and settles across her shoulders.

[Drew Roscoe] Drew's encouraging Remy to get out toward the truck, she had places she wanted to go before she got home, after all, but there's a comment quipping at the back of her shoulder that stops Remy. This time Drew doesn't object to his temper. She stops too, in a rather similar manner, and turns to look back at Sofie with a scowl sketched in about her eyebrows and the corners of her mouth.

Roman interjects, but Remy's already started up and Drew's wrinkling her nose.

"Howard wasn't a part of this pack. Or this tribe. Or his--" She bobs her head toward Roman, "tribe. The comment made was before Kora's warning not to. No foul there. Now we're trying to make our way home. Got places to be. But the next time you want to have a long, mature, lengthy conversation about conduct in other people's homes maybe you should go about it in some way other than some parting jab to a couple'a peoples' backs, huh?"

[Remy] "My kin," he snaps without so much as a glance at Roman. He comes off the wall entirely, advancing on Sofie, closing the space until he sets his palms down on the table and leans into it. "And whoever raised you obviously forgot the part where you learn to walk like you talk. You're taking offense that I'm not pussyfooting around. You want me to mind my sweet little manners like a castrated pomeranian, maybe you ought to follow your own advice and keep your pretty mouth shut. And god damn I hate when kin try to pull the litany out."

[Roman Turner] He hopped off the counter to intercept Remy.

"This is the home of my Pack. The home of the Jarl of the Fenrir. Your Jarl. My home. Those in my home are under the protection of my Pack. Under my protection. Under the protection of the Jarl. That includes each and every one of you at this moment under said circumstances."

He looked between them.

"Remember where you are. If you have a grievance with each other, take it up with your Jarl, but do not threaten the peace of my home. Do not spit on our hospitality."

[Sofie Janssen] "I wasn't talking to you." She says to Drew without looking at the other woman, cutting her off her spiel.

Sofie has a bigger problem. Remy's coming at her. She pushes a little back from the table but stays seated in her chair. Her shoulders sink a little, but she's careful with the angle of her throat. Her eyes slide down from his piercing gaze to look at his cheeks, the way his mouth moves as he almost spits.

"Sure. I already apologized."

[Izzy Montoya] They will never know how much it costs her right now to be quiet, how much it grates on her nerves not to react, not to say anything. She doesn't quite keep the disdain from her face, doesn't quite keep her features completely neutral. But she doesn't say a word. Her fingers tighten around her beer bottle, and she shifts her position slightly, settling her right hand on the counter behind her hip, leaning back on it slightly. Dark eyes follow, mark the possition of everyone in the room, Roman as he intercepts, Remy as he charges, Sofie as she lowers her gaze and apologizes again.

Her jawline tenses, strong features sharpening, tensing, waiting for the inevitable.

[Drew Roscoe] Drew's scowl settles on Sofie for another handful of seconds, then her gaze shifts to Roman and Remy, the young teenager standing in the path of the muscular, determined Get of Fenris. In situations eight or seven months ago Drew might have slipped between the parties about to explode, pressed hands lightly to someone's stomach to get them to move and defused the situation with her charm and grace.

She's learned, though, that Remy didn't listen. She couldn't talk him down, he wouldn't let her. So, rather than make an ass of herself by attempting, rather than trying to interject her observations of the situation into what sounded like it was going to become an argument over who had claim over who tonight, Drew just tugged the shoulders of her coat so they sat more comfortably on her petite frame.

"I'll be waiting in the truck."

And left to do just that.

[Remy] "If I wanted to spit on your hospitality, Coggie," Remy snaps, "I'd break this table with your interfering face and shove a plank up your ass right about now. This is me being nice. Now fuck off and let me finish my civilized conversation with my kin. Christ, just because you coggies treat to your kin like they're porcelain vases that hold your balls..."

His dark eyes swing back to Sofie.

"You're not scared of me, are you?" He jerks a thumb over his shoulder at the departing Drew. "She's not scared of me, and look at her. She's like a stick."

[Remy] [replace stick with treestump.]

[Izzy Montoya] She loses the battle - slightly. She snorts.

[Roman Turner] "Honestly? I don't care Remy. I don't care what you would or would not do on territory, in a packhouse that is not your's. I really don't care what ya think of me, or mine. You're making it very clear right now that ya lack the sense to consider where ya are. Or maybe it's the good graces and respect ya should show your Jarl? That's what I see right now. And for the last time, I will ask that you take your anger out of my home."

[Remy] [...due to lack of RAR response, change that to, um. "She's like a stick. A really short stick."]

[Sofie Janssen] "I don't know about scared. I am a bit," Sofie replies. "It'd be dumb not to be. You could rip my spine out my throat in two seconds flat, and I wouldn't so much have blinked." Her words come out surprisingly even. The pulse jumps at her throat, quick, steady.

But. Well, she doesn't need to say but. She's still talking. She still said what she said. Repeated it. Plenty would see it stupid. Sofie doesn't offer reasons other then what she already stated.

"Didn't think you'd be so upset." She swallows something else she was going to say. Smarter, then. Good thing Roman is talking, too. He's saying what she had been brave, stupid, wrong of her to say? It had to be said.

[Roman Turner] He held up a finger in Sofie's direction.

"I need peace, calm and respect from both of ya to keep this from blowing in to some thing it never should have. Once more I say, take this up with your Jarl, but do not bring disrespect to our home."

[Roman Turner] He knew one thing to do other than have a complete blow up in his home. He reached inside and in a softer voice spoke to Remy.

"I ain't saying she is right, nor you are wrong. I'm asking you not to bring this to my home. To respect where you are and take it up with your Jarl."

Persuasion
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6) [WP]

[Remy] [hey, can i get a post in?]

[Roman Turner] (if you are fast enough LOL! )

[Sofie Janssen] [I'm waitin'! *g*]

[Remy] "If the Alpha of my Tribe wants me to act like a lilyassed Silver Fang, all politeness and manners, she can tell me herself. You might be her packmate, Coggie, but you aren't a Fenrir. You don't get to speak for the Fenrir Alpha.

"I'm going to say this once. If I wanted to disrespect you, you'd know. If I was actually angry, you'd know. There'd be splinters in your teeth and a stick up your ass, and that's how you'd know. Just because I refuse to pretend to be grieving for someone I feel no grief for doesn't mean I'm pissed off. Just because I want to know why my tribe alpha feels it's not her place to tell me to cut something out when I'm standing in her packhouse, lined up beneath her in rank and hierarchy -- doesn't mean I'm spitting on her hospitality.

"I know exactly where I stand. I'm just trying to figure out why the fuck everyone in this city pussyfoots around. And," with a pointed glance at Roman, "why the fuck the Coggies keep putting their wet little noses in my business.

"Now as for you," Sofie again, "it's one thing if you want to act like there's perfumed ice water in your veins instead of blood. It's another thing if you want to mouth off and see if I'm more impressed than I am irritated. But if you're going to tell me to mince around and be polite, then you don't get to do it by being a bitch. That's just hypocritical. Clear enough?"

[Sofie Janssen] The Kinfolk is trying to smooth things over, without spinning bullshit. Lies or manipulation isn't her forte. Straight up honest truth, with a big spaced filter, meant lots came through the cracks. Roman warns her, again, and she lets out a small, slightly unsteady breath.

Her gaze had flicked to the gesture of his finger, then immediately back at Remy. Meeting his gaze. Hers seems relatively calm compared. Still sharp. Reflecting his own. A little more wolf then humans should be and all in the genetics. Her heart rate had began to slide down already. He hadn't bitten her face off right away.

She's caught between a hard place and a rock. Roman sounding damn convincing to be quiet, Remy asking her a question. There's stuff to say. But she nods, once. Leaves it at that. There will always be other times, right? Doesn't have to be right now.

[Roman Turner] "Wait, wait, wait. One thing we need to straighten out here. I ain't crying over some guy I never met who didn't have the backbone to join the Sept. Just so we are clear on that. As for a stick up my ass, sounds like a rough date, but I ain't had one in a long time, so if ya bring flowers I might take ya up on it."

He looked between the two of them again.

"Now, if you want to beat your chest and you want to run your mouth, the two of ya can take it outside and have at it."

[Remy] Remy exhales -- half snort, half a breath blown out. "I'm not going to speak ill of the dead, so I can't answer that. But good to know you weren't on the pity wagon."

A shake of his head, then. "I've said what I had to and had it heard, and my ride just left, so I'm leaving too. Don't worry. Won't come around here much. Wouldn't want to scare your kin and upset your dinner parties with my rough manners."

[Sofie Janssen] Her mouth twitches. She clears her throat a little, still sitting in the chair with Remy looming over her, or not. Looking from Remy to Roman and back again.

Sitting up, she jerks the chair a little forward and looks comfortable again. "I've got to head out of here too," she tells Roman, and gets ready to get up and leave.

"Things went a bit far. Sorry about that."

[Izzy Montoya] Oh she's nearing the end of her rope. She snorts again, and hops down from the counter. She tips back her beer and swallows repeatedly until it is empty, then sets the bottle on the counter as she fastens up her coat once again.

"Roman." It serves as her goodnight, as she turns and walks out.

[Roman Turner] "Ya still don't get it do ya?"

He shook his head.

"You are welcome here. See, I don't care if ya come and visit with your family. I mean, I'm a back boneless Coggie, remember? We're just jelly fish, isn't that the thought? So sure, love and peace and all that, I welcome ya to my home. At the same time, I like women that at least aren't afraid to speak their minds, right or wrong. I encourage growth. And then there's the other thing. I been working hard around here to put things back together. I don't want nothing broke. So I ask, if we have to have fights, threats, lessons, whatever, that they take place outside under the supervision of a responsible adult."

[Sofie Janssen] Roman gets a little grin from her, a look as she's going to fetch her rucksack from the ground. "Responsible adult?" The young woman couldn't help herself. An upset, not angry, Get of Fenris didn't ruffle her feathers any, either. The little spat is over, and she moves on. No harm, no foul. Maybe a little misunderstanding but not important enough for her to push anymore then it had been.

"Nah. Seriously. I get it. I'm not trying to break anything. This happens when you get cultures clash, and willful opinions thrown around. I'll curb it to outside the pack house," she promises and will try and keep it to that. Sofie's not sorry for saying something. Not in the least.

Probably has more to say. Just somewhere else.

[Remy] Remy's head is down for a moment: he's zipping that big ski jacket back up, then snapping the snaps shut. Right up to his chin. Right up to just under his nose, hiding half of that absurdly pretty face of his.

Muffled now, "I didn't mean that passive-aggressively, like obviously you don't really want me here so I'm not coming, snit! I meant what I said. I know I'm welcome. But I don't belong in a place where I have to watch my manners so as to not scare the kin and the coggies." His face moves -- it might be a smirk, "Don't worry. I'll come if I need to. But maybe not for the tea parties."

He pulls the hood up, clapping it over his short dark hair. To Sofie, "You want a ride with Drew and me?"

[Sofie Janssen] "You gonna punch my arm until I cry Uncle?" she asked Remy, smirking faintly.

Swinging the rucksack up onto the table, she sets about grabbing her jacket from the back of the chair and pulling it on. Her scarf goes next. Rucksack after. The buttons of her jacket can be done up as she's walking out.

[Roman Turner] ((ten minute warning, I need sleep))

[Roman Turner] "Well next time ya come and start talking about putting things up my ass, remember, I need to be wined and dined. It's a Coggie thing. I like fluffy puppies, flowers, chocolates and walks on the beach. And my favorite color is forest green."

[Remy] "No," Remy replies, rather agreeable now that there was nothing to actively respond to, "but I'm sitting in the middle so I can feel like a pimp."

He brings up the rear behind Sofie, snorting a laugh as he leaves Roman's packhouse. "I don't do any of that," he calls, "but I'll bring the tequila and the KY next time in case you start schooling me on my own kin again."

[Roman Turner] "Better bring the His and Her's. I'll letcha be the Her."

He called after Remy, then let out a sigh as all grew quiet again. Turning to Sofie and Izzy.

"You are both welcome to sleep here, but either way I am hitting the bed. It's been a long day and I done pissed off everyone I possibly could."

[Sofie Janssen] Chuckling at Roman, she throws a look back at him with a small nod of her chin. "Enjoy the roast." As she's leaving, she does up her jacket buttons, and expects there to be some more bitching in the ride. If Drew's even going to give her a ride, that is. Sofie won't mind either way. Bus is fine with her if it goes down that path, and she can hold her own.