ooglabooglaboo!

[Drew Roscoe] Spending time in Grant Park could be compared to spending it in the alleys of some old historical city in Europe with tall spires on their buildings and very thin streets. You could encounter the most interesting people, find the best trinkets, and see some of the history that can't be found on the brochures, the genuine stuff as opposed to what they stuff down the throats of American tourists. On the flipside, though, there was an equally present, if not overshadowing chance that you would instead be mugged, kidnapped, killed, stolen away and sold because Americans fetch top dollar. Those trinkets you find could easily be fakes, and those 'interesting' people could very well be the ones doing the stealing and robbing.

Yet despite these dangers, people kept coming back. They took the chance because they wanted the people, the experiences, the history and memories. The smart ones came back prepared. Drew Roscoe kept her magnum holstered at her back, tucked out of sight under her winter coat. She'd had to replace the red one with the brown fur on the hood with a blue one instead, this one more trim-fitting rather than bulky (she'd learned a lesson about down feathers when she lost the last one) with double buttons from breast to waist. She left her hair down to cover her ears up rather than using a hat (it was a solid ten degrees warmer tonight than it had been last night, she'd fare just fine without), but her hands had white mittens on them and her dark wash jeans were tucked into a pair of brown boots that came up to her calves.

She was sitting on a bench that framed the wide stretch of grass and concrete that was the forefront of Grant Park, where people played frisbee in the summer with each other and dogs alike, where tourists would snap pictures of The Bean and play in the Millennium Fountain. In the winter, though, when the dusk had settled and faded away into night, it was relatively vacant. She and the errant hot-dog guy closing up his vendor stand were all that was left.

Drew had a small notepad, the kind that fit best in a waitress's apron pocket, and a pen. She was using it seldom-- thinking hard before crossing something already written out and adding a notation to the page. Other papers were folded up and tucked under one thigh so the wind didn't sweep them away, printed off a computer and stapled together. She was making up her mind on which rental house to go with after narrowing it down to three.

[Tabitha Reese] "Because, Tal. That's just not how things WORK" The don't particularly look like they either belong there, or that they're prepared for the dangers. Interesting people everywhere were on alert.

[Tala Whitedeer] "You don't know that." She sounds vaguely irritated, not ooking over at Tabitha as she walks.

[Tabitha Reese] "I pretty much do know that, sweet cheeks" She glances behind her, then to each side before looking up ahead once more. Maybe they're not quite so much the babes in the woods that they appear to be. She hooks her arm through Tala's, her free hand brushing through her hair. "Aren't you freezing?"

[Tala Whitedeer] "No. It's not that cold."

[Tabitha Reese] "Wierdo" They keep walking, heading toward the entrance of the park and the bench containing Drew.

[Tala Whitedeer] She frowns. "I am not."

[Tabitha Reese] "Alright, don't get upset. I'm teasing."

[Tala Whitedeer] "I'm not upset." She shrugs. "I'm not a little bird, you know."

[Tabitha Reese] "You've been weird ever since we got here, though."

[Remy] Not far from T&T, and not too far from Drew and her bench, there's a young man standing in front of the Jellybean. He's bundled up in a charcoal grey ski jacket, the snaps fastened up to his nose, and a wool cat pulled down to his ears. Add in the gloves and the scarf and the thick jeans, sturdy shoes, and literally all that's visible of him is a ninjalike slice of his face and a pair of dark eyes squinting in the wind.

He has a camera phone. He's trying to get a snap of himself in the Jellybean. He's been waiting for some time -- even in winter, there are always tourists trying to get a shot. At the last second, just when the viewfinder looks clear, Tabitha and Tala cross in front of him. Snap! goes the camera. The picture's partially obscured, Tabitha and Tala blurring across the screen.

"Damn it!" Remy bursts out. "Can't you see someone's trying to take a picture here?"

[Tabitha Reese] She stops, pausing a half second before turning around very slowly and looking Remy up and down, head to toe and back again. "Come again?"

[Tala Whitedeer] She doesn't -hide- behind Tabitha, but she takes an almost instinctual step back so Tabitha is in front.

[Drew Roscoe] Drew's scratching something else out with her pen, thoughtlessly thatching the black ink over the couple of words she was eliminating from the equation with short strokes of the pen. A pair of women are arm-in-arm strolling across the wide expanse of the open half of the park, and some guy bundled up in winterware is attempting to take a picture of himself with his cell phone.

Frustration is growing, he's not doing a good job of snapping a decent shot, and the one time he gets partway there it coincides with the passing of the two women in front of the beloved Chicago piece of artwork, the thing that everyone new and everyone passing through has to see once (along with Wrigley Field, of course). The curse in the otherwise empty park drew Drew's attention upward. She watched the man glower and the woman stop, drag her eyes down and back up the man in a very confrontational manner. The Kin nipped at the inside of her lower lip while she watched.

The pen was slipped back into the rungs of the notepad, and that in turn was put in her coat pocket. The papers under her thigh were folded over into fourths and tucked away as well, into the same pocket as the pad of paper. She didn't stand up and go to intervene just yet. Rather, she watched, listened, waited. Made sure that there was no chance this would be settled civilly without her stepping in before she stood up to do so.

[Tabitha Reese] She takes a step to put herself more in front of Tala, clearly overly protective of the other woman. "Well?"

[Tala Whitedeer] She doesn't seem to mind Tabitha being protective, stepping back a little bit.

[Remy] [I should mention: PB2 for Fenrir.]

"You heard me," the young man shoots back hotly. "What, too busy arguing with your girlfriend to notice someone's trying to take a picture? It's one thing if you want a picture yourself and you're off to the side, but you walked right in front of me. That's just rude."

[Tabitha Reese] She steps closer, right up toe to toe. Either she's crazy, or unimpressed by his irritation. Smiling very, very sweetly, she tilts her head a bit and reaches up to wrap her hand around the phone. "Would you like us to take a picture of you, gorgeous?" There's something in the way she says 'gorgeous' though, that makes it sound more like an insult.

[Tala Whitedeer] "She's not my girlfriend." She apparently feels the pressing need to interject that, given the urgent nature of her tone.

[Drew Roscoe] The way that Drew exhales isn't a fully fledged sigh, but it certainly has a resigned quality to it. She places her palms on the seat of the bench she'd been sitting on and pushes herself up onto her feet. Her hands go into the pockets of the winter coat (similar to a peacoat but not close enough to be called one), she shakes her head so her hair is out of her face, and she approaches the confrontation moving rapidly toward an actual fist-fight.

The low heels on her boots clack with a near wooden sound on the frozen pavement as she drew near. Her cheeks and nose were red from the cold as well as the tips of her ears, but she appeared unbothered. More focused on the man and two women that were getting into an argument over something as simple as frustrations, interrupting a picture, and... pride? That could be the final element that pulled this all together.

"Hey now," the Kin with only the quietest hum of a north wind and iron in her blood said, smiling with the kind of warmth that filled homes with the smell of baked goods and spices. Her hands stayed in her pockets, elbows rolled forward just a little so her shoulders were tucked up, making her petite frame look as though it were apologizing and asking permission both to butt into the conversation-- though she doesn't ever actually do any of those and continues speaking anyways in a voice that was confident and present without being commanding or overbearing or loud. "How about we rewind it by a minute or two, back up a dozen feet or so, then go on like nothing happened, huh? Sound right?"

[Tabitha Reese] "Tal?" She keeps her eyes on the man's, waving her hand at the woman who's decided to interject as if instructing her friend to deal with her.

[Tala Whitedeer] She moves to the side, a little, still keeping Tabitha between herself and Drew. "It's fine. Everything is fine. She's not my girlfriend."

[Remy] Remy instantly, irrationally bristles. He wrenches the phone back out of Tabitha's hand. It's either old or cheap or both -- not some fancy new smartphone but a flip-phone, the sort that was popular some five years ago.

"Don't call me that," he snarls. "Don't you call me that. Goddamn Black Fury bulldyke." Apparently Tala's protests have gone unheard. Drew's too.

[Tala Whitedeer] She winces and immediately takes a step away from Tabitha.

[Tabitha Reese] She seems satisfied at Remy's explosion, stepping back slightly to give him a tiny bit of space. "It's not nice to call names, is it? Who are you?" Suspicions confirmed, she glances to the other woman briefly.

[Drew Roscoe] Black Fury bulldyke

Oh here we go.

Drew's face shifted from the warm and welcoming half-apologetic expression it had introduced itself with to a faint frown when the woman reaching for the cellphone dismisses her by asking, with only a name called, for her friend to talk to her instead. She was too busy to be interrupted. When Remy's outburst followed, though, that's when the frown shifted into something more business-like. Her eyes cut to him, hopped up and down all over his face and shoulders, then over to Tabitha as well. Between Tabitha and Tala, for a second, before she's stepping forward again, hands out of her pockets, up with the palms forward, one closer to the Fury and the other closer to the Fenrir.

"Not here." Her voice is stern, resolute. Tabitha steps back, so Drew looks to Remy instead. "Way too many eyes out on that street, okay?"

[Tabitha Reese] "Who is your voice of reason, sunshine?" It seems less insulting than playful now, and she steps back further to Tala's side.

[Remy] The rather mild response seems to throw Remy off. His eyebrows -- which are dark, giving some hint as to what the rest of him might look like under all that winter gear -- draw down even lower over his eyes. Those eyes flick sideways to Tala, to Drew, all suspicious-like. And back. He gives a quick, twisting jerk of his head, loosening his neck, and then reaches up to snap the top three buttons of his coat open, revealing the lower half of his face.

Somewhere a good fifteen, twenty feet away -- no one else is coming any closing to the knot of Rage by the Jellybean -- some girl gets a look at his face and lets out an audible gasp. Because sadly, Tabitha is right: that is one pretty, pretty Fenrir. Look at that chiseled square jaw; look at those soulful dark eyes. Soulful, glaring, pissed-off eyes.

"You first," he snaps. "And shut up, girl. The menfolk are talking."

Oh yeah, he went there. On multiple levels.

[Tala Whitedeer] She sighs heavily. "Tabby."

[Tabitha Reese] And just like that she's toe to toe with him again, looking over the pretty, pretty face before leaning hers close into it.

"One. She's my packmate. Two, be respectful of the kin. Three.... I like men. Though you're doing very little for Fenrir's stereotype, outside of the unusually shiny packaging."

[Drew Roscoe] Remy unbuttons the top part of his coat and peels it away from his face and throat, and somewhere on the sidewalk a young woman gasps quietly and murmurs to whoever she's walking with. Drew stares for half of a second, more because that kind of pretty paired with dark eyes and hair had her thinking of someone that she'd met a year or so back only to have him die before she had a chance to get to know him very well. More that than because of him actually being pretty, anyways.

Admiration doesn't sink in or last very long either because he's snapping at everyone around him and she gets told to shut up. The menfolk are talking. This is answered with a furrow of eyebrows and by her lifting her hands up near her shoulders in an 'okay, okay' gesture and backing up a step.

She doesn't huff or gasp or pretend to be outrageously offended. She doesn't yell back and ask him who the hell he thinks he is. Hell, she hardly even sulks. Instead she sticks her hands back into her coat pockets, stands several feet off to the side, and keeps an eye on the three.

She's listening-- learning that the man is a Fenrir (oh boy) and that the two women are either heavily in denial or trying to hide from the world. She's watching, curious of the girl that stays behind the one that was called a Black Fury, not hiding, not afraid, but quiet and reluctant. Moreso, making sure this didn't become volatile to the point that the Veil'd get trampled on and also keeping an eye out to make sure that the Rage was doing its job of buffering them from what people crossed through. For the most part they stuck to the sidewalk, where most of the vendors and stores were.

[Tala Whitedeer] "TABBY." She looks over at Drew, frowning, taking a step in that direction, trying to stay more or less behind Tabitha, and between Drew and Tabitha.

[Remy] Of course, Remy doesn't back down. He doesn't seem to have much to say in response either, though. There's an awkward silence. Then he comes back with the oldest of all retorts:

"You started it."

-- all resentful and, frankly, childish. Teenager-ish, as if the two or three years he's put between him and those years have done very little for his mental maturity at all. He raises a hand and scrubs at his jaw with his gloved knuckles, then drops it.

"And the least you could do is finish it. This is the most frustrating fight I've ever had with a goddamn Fury. Let's just try to kick each other in the balls already."

[Tabitha Reese] "I haven't even TOUCHED him, Tala." She sighs and steps back again, looking amused by Remy.

"I don't have any, sugar. I thought we just covered that. If getting kicked in the junk is your thing though... we can work out something privately some time"

And then she's back at Tala's side, addressing both Remy and Drew. "I'm Tabitha. This is Tala. We just got into town a few nights ago from out west."

[Tala Whitedeer] "I'm not her girlfriend."

[Drew Roscoe] Drew wasn't saying much of anything, she didn't feel like it was the time for her to go back to trying to get a word in edgewise. She stared between the Garou (or the ones that she knew were, she had a pretty sure idea that Tala was actually a Kinfolk... or so she guessed by her behavior anyways), undecided about the both of them for entirely different reasons.

When Tala shouted her companion's name and took a step toward Drew, the Kin lifted her eyebrow and took a step back. She was wary of both women, and frowning faintly when Tala repeated for the third time what she's been insisting all night long. Silences didn't last for long, 'shut up' wore off eventually. She put incredulous eyes on Tala and questioned her in a tone that was quiet but a bit skeptical as well.

"Who are you convincing?"

[Remy] Tabitha informs him that she has no balls --

"I'm trying to insult you!" Remy bursts out.

[Tala Whitedeer] She looks over at Drew, frowning. "Nobody. I just want to make it clear."

[Tabitha Reese] "You'll have to do better." She continues to watch Remy, and links her arm through Tala's again. "Is there a better place to have this conversation that's close?"

[Drew Roscoe] "Mmmhmm." The Kin's mouth pressed into a flat, unamused line, and her elbows tucked to her sides while Tala frowned at her and Tabitha slipped her arm through her friend's, linking them together. "Clear as day..."

They asked if there was anywhere nearer to have this conversation, and Drew bit at the edge of her tongue and glanced to Remy. She wasn't sure exactly what sort of conversation there was to be had, the young man seemed confused and frustrated all the more because his camera wasn't working the way he wanted and when he had the opportunity to vent some tension it clammed up and tried to play coy and civil with him. On an unrelated note, he had to be new to town. No one else tried to get pictures of themselves with The Bean.

But all the same, she'd let him figure it out. He was the manfolk, after all, he had to have a handle on things anyways.

[Tabitha Reese] "Kin." Her tone is sharp, eyes pinned on Drew suddenly, all amusement gone from them. "Are you accusing her of lying to you?"

[Remy] All at once people were looking to him for answers. The young Fenrir looks caught between confusion and sulking. After a moment's indecision, he shoves his phone at Drew.

"Take a picture of me in front of the Jellybean. And then we'll go somewhere. Oh and don't fuck with my kin, Fury. I'll kick your ass."

[Tabitha Reese] "Your kin is implying that my packmate is a liar. If you aren't going to control her, I will."

[Tala Whitedeer] "This is an incredibly stupid thing to argue over."

[Drew Roscoe] Tabitha turns stern eyes upon her and calls her by 'Kin', which was along the same lines as being called 'girl' but slightly more insulting by the way that it was being used. She's trying to intimidate her, or that's what Drew felt. She had the feeling that the Fury was expecting her to lower her eyes and mumble an apology.

That sure wasn't the result she was getting. Drew stared back with a look of 'are you serious?' on her face, and after a second or two of thought shook her head some, not really answering the question so much as dismissing it, and parted her lips as though to speak, but was stopped when the phone was jammed at her. She reached out to take the device, and glanced back and forth while the young Fenrir guy warned the Fury not to fuck with his Kin, and the Fury in turn told him to control his Kin or she would for him.

"Whoa now, back up." Drew looked at Tabitha, her expression unamused and largely annoyed. "You two are pitching a fuss over whether or not anyone thinks you're bumping uglies. Picking a fight and threatening punishment of someone you don't even know over whether I believe something a complete stranger tells me is one of the most idiotic things I've heard in my life." Her nose is wrinkled up now, and she shakes her head, looks down to the phone to find the camera option on it while she continues.

"If you've got a problem with my so-called attitude, take it up with the Jarl. But if you lay a hand on me I'll make sure you can't do it again."

[Tala Whitedeer] "I'm not pitching a fuss. I'm just making it clear. Again. This is stupid."

[Remy] "Take my goddamn picture!" Remy yells. "And then we'll go somewhere and sort this shit out."

[Tabitha Reese] She makes a face and pulls out her own phone, quickly calling up the camera and scowling. "Jesus. I'll text one to you. Smile"

[Remy] Remy bares his teeth in a horrid approximation of a smile.

[Drew Roscoe] "Jesus Christ..." Drew mutters this to no one and lifts her phone at about the same time Tabitha does her own. Remy snarls at the camera, and Drew clicks a picture. The sounds of the two cameras capturing a snapshot chime in unison, and Drew checks the picture before shaking her head, flipping the phone closed, and holding it out.

At least he was pretty enough that a scowl wouldn't ruin the picture.

[Tabitha Reese] She finds that amusing, laughing a little as she snaps a couple of pictures and hands the phone to him to enter his number.

[Remy] The rictus grin doesn't ruin the picture. It just makes him look like a lunatic. A sulking, homicidal, pretty lunatic. He grumpily punches his number into Tabitha's phone, stripping his glove off with his teeth to do so, then hands it back. Takes his own back. Puts it away.

"Jesus," he grumps. "Was that so hard? Now let's go somewhere so we can discuss kin, girlfriends, and whether or not Tabitha has balls."

[Tabitha Reese] She mutters something about "cranky pants" as her phone is slipped into her pocket again. "Where should we go?" Her gaze slips between Remy and Drew.

[Drew Roscoe] The two that seem most inclined to talk try to figure out where they should go to 'talk'. Tala hangs back, arm-in-arm with Tabitha, seeing no need to reiterate a thought that two have already stated out loud-- where do we go? let's go somewhere. Drew was the only one, it appeared, to have been a resident of Chicago for longer than forty-eight hours. Her mittened hands go back into her pockets when Remy relieves them of his cell phone, and she rocks her weight back onto the low heels of her boots before tipping them forward so she stood evenly again.

She'd allow a few moments of floundering silence to pass before she relented and pointed across the street to a small coffee shop with apartments and offices and whatever else that could be crammed into the space up above it. It had a green awning and soft pink neon lights above that glowed the coffee shop's name 'Galactic Grounds'. It would be busy on a Saturday night with people stopping in to warm up between clubs or stores before hopping on to the next sin of the evening.

It would be crowded, but it would work if they kept their damn voices down.

[Tabitha Reese] She shrugs, tugging at Tala's arm before starting toward the coffee shop.

[Tala Whitedeer] She follows, frowning slightly.

[Remy] 'Galactic Grounds' looks good enough for Remy. He snaps his jacket back up a few inches, then follows the females across the street.

The coffeehouse is crowded enough on a Saturday night that they have to squeeze a bit to get in. Remy doesn't look inclined to actually buy anything to drink. He spots a table just departing and cuts quickly across the room to grab a seat, utterly ignoring the young couple that had been waiting a few feet away for the table. The man opens his mouth to protest. The woman grabs him by the arm, shakes her head no, and pulls him away. Meanwhile, Remy sets about climbing out of his outerwear. A scarf is unwound, hung over the back of his chair. Gloves and hat are stuffed into his pocket. Snaps are unsnapped, zipper unzipped, the ski jacket draped over the back of the chair over the scarf. Underneath, he's wearing a single layer -- a plain, dark blue t-shirt that molds out the hard-carved lines of his body. Pretty or not, he's put an immense amount of effort into making himself strong, making himself powerful, making himself formidable enough in a fight that maybe, just maybe, people will think twice about calling him 'gorgeous'. 'Prettyboy'. All that.

Remy sits down, hunkered over the table, all solid muscle and bone. He grabs a napkin up off the small unused stack left behind by the previous guests and blows his nose. Then he kicks out chairs for the rest of his little party, waiting for them to sit down.

"Okay," he says, getting right to business. "Let's get something clear. Whether or not my kin ran her mouth, you don't get to threaten her if you don't like what she says. Only I get to threaten my kin. You can threaten me if you're not satisfied with how I'm dealing with my kin, and then we'll see who's alpha dog between us two. But you don't get to go over my head. 'Cause the girl's my turf, see?"

[Tabitha Reese] Tabitha takes her time, coat shrugged out of, gloves taken off to reveal the round scars that dot the middle of each palm. Her hands are quickly shoved into the pockets of her hoodie though, as if to hide them.

"Fucking Fenrir" Her nose wrinkles in distaste. "She's not a plot of ground. Almost as bad as the fucking Fangs. If she didn't imply that Tala was lying, there wouldn't have been an issue. But everyone is on the same page now, right?" She looks between the other three.

[Drew Roscoe] The four walk across the street to the coffee shop, T&T arm in arm while Drew walks a few feet from Remy. She doesn't touch him, doesn't walk close enough for them to be considered familiar or really even together in any sense, but he's Fenrir and so is she, and that's worth something. She didn't want to have to lose any bullets tonight, didn't want to have to wash blood stains out of clothing or skip a scene before officers showed up, so it was probably better that she keep nearer to Remy than to Tabitha. This way he could go about kicking her ass in case she tried to get back at her for disbelieving the 'we're not girlfriends' story earlier.

Into the crowded coffee shop they go, and Drew's unbuttoning her coat even as they search for a table. The heater, the brewing coffee and assorted beverages, the oven, and the mass of bodies that come and go have made the temperature change between indoors and outdoors quite drastic indeed. A table opens up and Remy claims it in a heartbeat, and no one protests (out loud) because of the Rage that the group carried with them. He staked out a chair, she claimed one beside him and tucked her mittens into her jacket before removing it and hanging it on the back of her chair. Under the coat she was wearing a plum colored long-sleeved tee with peeks of a beige camisole peeking at the V of the neck and past the hem of the first shirt. Layering kept you warmer than a single sweater would, after all.

Remy hashes out details of 'his kin, his turf, his girl,' and Drew doesn't interject to point out that she's technically under the watch of the Jarl. If he wanted to stick up for her she sure wasn't going to tell him not to. However, she didn't feel too shy to point out to Tabitha when she retorted that: "Weren't you the one just telling him that he needed to control his Kin or you would do it for him? ...Not a plot of land or a pet anyway, though."

The Kin didn't sit in the chair she claimed, but rather walked back toward the counter and placed herself in line for a drink.

[Tala Whitedeer] She doesn't mess with her clothing at all, keeping her light sweater on, and looks between everyone else. "This is -stupid-. It's a -stupid- argument."

[Tabitha Reese] She raises an eyebrow at Remy as Drew speaks out of turn once more, sitting back in her chair and giving Tala a small, apologetic smile. "We're done arguing now, okay? Promise."

Half nodding, she looks to Remy again and letting her eyes roam over him slowly. "So what's your name?"

[Remy] "We're on the same page about whose kin this is," Remy says. "And we'll get to introductions in a minute. But before that, let's finish the 'stupid' argument so the bulldykes don't come back later and try to accuse me of weaseling out of my responsbilities.

"Girl," since he doesn't know her name, "were you trying to call the Fury's packmate a liar back there, or were you just yanking her chain?"

[Tabitha Reese] "Do I have to fuck you right here to prove that I like cock?" She seems exasperated with him now, and mostly teasing. Mostly.

[Drew Roscoe] She's stopped partway to the line by a question. Issues apparently needed her help in being ironed out. So she turned and edged her way back out of the crowd, easing past a young woman with a hand at her elbow and a murmured 'excuse me', then heading back to stand by the table. Fingers grabbed the hem of the camisole worn under the plum shirt and tugged down so it was a little more visible, hugging the hips and seat of her jeans comfortably.

Her eyes went from Remy to Tabitha, and her scowl was largely disapproving.

"That's so inappropriate it's not even funny." Then, back to Remy, with a shake of her head. "It doesn't even go as far as either of those. Skepticism isn't the same thing as accusation. Anyway, if anyone should be showing insult it should be her packmate." She nodded her head to Tala, looked at the girl for a second before looking back to Remy with a tired kind of frown in her eyes. "If the victim doesn't wanna press charges...." She lets that hang for a second, then folds her arms loosely over her stomach and pipes down.

[Tala Whitedeer] "I'm not insulted. I don't care. This is asinine."

[Tabitha Reese] "Well there. No one is insulted." She dislikes the kin woman more and more every time she opens her mouth, and her patience is clearly wearing thin. "Do you want a chocolate or something, Tal?"

[Tala Whitedeer] "I can't tonight."

[Tabitha Reese] "Why not?"

[Remy] Remy promptly smacks Drew upside the head. A good one, too, enough to send her hat flying if she's wearing one. Enough to muss her hair right up, regardless.

"That's for talking like a Shadow Lord lawyer bitch," he says, all matter-of-fact. "And to tell you the truth, you were getting smacked regardless. Either for calling a Garou a liar, or for yanking her chain, or for trying to talk your way out of it. Don't do that."

Then he turns his attention back on Tabitha, making a face. "Ew. A charach bulldyke. Not interested. Besides, you don't really want a piece of this either." He grabs his crotch under the table, the gesture lewd and obvious enough that it's unmistakable whether or not there's a table in the way. "I think your dick might be bigger than mine." And he smirks, reaching across the table -- same hand that was just on his junk, by the way -- to shake.

"I'm Rémy de Tournières." There's a sort of stubborn jut to his jaw. "And if you make fun of my name, I'll kick your fucking ass."

[Tala Whitedeer] "Long story. I promised someone...Never mind." She sighs heavily at the junk-grabbing display, fingers going up to adjust the flowers in her hair idly.

[Tabitha Reese] "Probably is, with all the fucking steroids" She's settled into teasing mode now, and her nose wrinkles. "Why the fuck would I make fun of your name? I'd rather make fun of that shirt. Do they have men's clothes where you got that?"

[Drew Roscoe] There's a flinch on impact when the hand cuffs along the back of her head, her shoulders hitch up and her eyes shut for a second. She's not wearing a hat, and while her lengthy brown hair puffs up and out of place in the back she couldn't be bothered to care, it wasn't any worse than what the wind was doing to it outside. Still, though, she's left scowling heavily and gritting her teeth together.

After the scolding and once his hand dropped back down, his attention shifted to the woman across the table. When it had been there for more than five seconds Drew stepped away from the table without so much as a bat of an eyelash to excuse herself. People are staring, at the crude behavior at the table and at the girl that just got smacked walking away with her shoulders up and her arms across her stomach both. The place had gotten a little quieter, was beginning to clear out, the crowd was growing gradually less dense as time passed. This was the effect Garou had on people.

Drew didn't complain about it, it wouldn't do any good. Besides, people peeling away and deciding to walk the half a block to the next coffee shop meant that the line she stood in to get a drink was shorter than it would have been.

[Tabitha Reese] Usually a woman getting hit would send the Fury over the edge. She's used to less mouthy kin though, and the slight tightening of her jaw is the only sign that she's unhappy with the display.

[Remy] "Oh come on, you so deserved that -- !" Remy starts as Drew executes her walk-off. Then he realizes she's just in line for coffee. "Oh."

He turns back to the others, snorting as his shirt is made fun of. "This is a t-shirt," he says. "What, don't they have t-shirts in the land of the amazons? Oh wait, what am I saying. Your men only wear chains and ball-gags."

[Tabitha Reese] She snorts and her eyes roll. "You sound just like Roland. He-" Whatever else she was about to say gets caught when all of the air leaves her lungs suddenly, and the Fury gets suddenly quiet. Her eyes flicker to Tala, then pin on the tabletop.

[Tala Whitedeer] "She's from Michigan." Apparently having missed the point of the repartee, she frowns, tone forceful.

[Tabitha Reese] "So. You're new here too?" The wind is completely out of her sails now and she seems more brooding suddenly, still watching the tabletop as she continues to talk to Remy. "Have you been to say hello yet?"

[Remy] "Who's Roland?"

[Remy] [sorry, chat wasn't refreshing![

[Tala Whitedeer] She scowls at Tabitha suddenly. "Stop TALKING about him."

[Tabitha Reese] She winces, hopping up suddenly and mumbling something about getting coffee before hurrying from the table.

[Remy] "Who's Roland?" Remy repeats. He's getting louder with this question. Next time he has to say it, he'll probably yell again.

[Drew Roscoe] Tabitha hustles away from the table when she brings up a touchy subject on her own accord then tries to escape it, and around the same time that she's getting into the line for coffee Drew is getting out of it, with two mugs balanced in one small hand and a sandwich wrapped in plastic wrap in the other. She made a questioning face at Tabitha as she rushed by and tucked herself into the back of the line, but didn't stop to ask her what was wrong.

Instead she walked back to the table with a faint clack-clack of boot heels on linoleum flooring and plopped the sandwich on the table in front of Remy, then set down one of the coffee mugs with enough room left in it for him to add whatever he might to it.

He's inquiring about Roland, the girls are being secretive and strange, and Drew just pushes out her chair, sits, and worries more about adding sugar to her coffee than who Roland is and whether or not the girls are sleeping together.

[Tala Whitedeer] She looks over at Remy and hisses, "Our ex-packmate."

[Remy] "Oh, yay," Remy says, unabashedly delighted by the sandwich dropping from the sky. Then, "Aw, I'm touched. You compared me to your ex-packmate. I knew it. You like me. You really really like me!" Then he picks up the sandwich and takes a big bite.

[Tabitha Reese] Her jaw is set again, arms crossed as she waits in a line that evaporates before her. The barely contained rage makes the barista fumble as she tries to make the quickest latte on record.

[Tala Whitedeer] "It's not -funny-. It's not a -joke-. He's -dead-."

[Hunter] A roar of engine. The red and silver soft-tail pulls up on the street and Hunter waits for Howard to climb off while turns off the engine and pockets his keys. Howard, of course, is blind and clumsier than an octopus on land and stumbles trying to get off the bike. Not to worry, Hunter has a helping hand, he doesn't face plant.

"Shit, seriously I thought you'd get it by now, you first lift one fuckin' leg and then the other one."

A pause while Hunter climbs of the bike and unzips his leather jacket.

"See? Not hard."

[Howard] It doesn't matter how many times they've gone over this or how many times Howard has actually climbed onto or off Hunter's motorcycle; every time he looks like a rag doll trying to get back on solid ground and he almost always ends up stumbling once he gets one of his legs swung over the side. Hunter catches him, keeps the partially-inebriated Theurge from eating concrete. With a loud sniff, Howard pushes his sunglasses higher up on his face and waits for Hunter to disembark before they move towards the cafe's entrance.

"Not hard?"

He grabs the handle and hauls open the door. A rush of warm air, a humming of an evening crowd, and somehow the tall, skinny young man with the unruly hair and atrocious fashion sense can be heard quite clearly.

"I don't know how I'd ever get off if you weren't helpin' me, man."

[Tabitha Reese] Latte secured, she stomps her way back to the table and avoids Tala's eyes as she sits.

[Hunter] "Well like I said," Hunter starts slowly. "You just gotta see it 'fore you do it, it ain't that tricky, just stop, collect yo self and do it. Next time I ain't grabbin' ya, you gonna have to do it all yo'self."

He says without even a hint of amusement or sarcasm and walks towards the counter.

[Remy] "We're all going to be dead one day," Remy replies, matter-of-fact and surprisingly goodnatured now that his good looks weren't getting commented on. "If you can't look back what memories you have of your dead friends and brothers and laugh, what's the point?"

[Tabitha Reese] "Well, it doesn't seem particularly funny just yet."

[Tala Whitedeer] "It hasn't been very long." She frowns deeply.

[Howard] "But where's the fun if you're not grabbin' me?" Howard asks, before reaching out to grab Hunter's love handle.

This game usually ends in his repeating the pinching as many times as it takes for the subject of his harassment to haul off and smack him; however, they reach the counter before a moderately familiar face asserts itself and Howard realizes that even if the Fenrir aren't looking at them they're at least in the area.

"Oi," Howard says, elbowing Hunter with one particularly sharp joint and jerking his head toward the table housing the Fenrir and his female companions. "Patrick says his name's Prettyboy... or he doesn't like bein' called Prettyboy. Or somethin'. I don't fuckin' remember." A beat. "You like them Viking types, let's go say 'Hi.'"

[Tabitha Reese] Both hands wrap around her cup to warm them, scars displayed at least for the moment. Her eyes follow Howard and Hunter as they move in and to the line, only half paying attention to their game of grab ass.

[Drew Roscoe] The Kin, Girl, has decided not to contribute to the conversation at this time. She ran the gauntlet tonight of being accused of calling someone a liar, jerking chains, being a lawyer bitch, and getting cuffed for all of the above when she opened her mouth. So she leaned back in her chair once the appropriate amount of sugar (no cream) was added to her coffee and cupped it with both hands, warming them and holding the drink close to her face so the steam would warm it.

Her right ankle rested on her left knee, and the left heel of her boot dug appropriately into the ground so she could tip her chair back onto two legs and rock herself faintly, forward and backward rhythmically, while sipping her coffee and paying half-attention to the conversation going on at her table.

The rumble of a motorcycle out front caught the Kin's attention and had her turning her head to look over her shoulder at the door, expression somewhere between expectant and hopeful without getting too carried away. The motorcycle parks, two people walk in, and neither have a face that she was expecting-- though she recognized both from the night prior when they showed up at the Church door making a ruckus. They're chattering, one's grabbing the other at the waist, and Drew's expression falls flat.

She looks forward again, at Tala and Tabitha, then past them and into a photograph of the Venetian skyline instead. That seemed like a safer, more sane place just now.

[Tabitha Reese] (Poor Drew. Surrounded by suspected homosexuals!)

[Remy] "How long does it have to be?" Remy points out. "You could both die tomorrow. And I'm telling you now, if that happens I'm going to laugh about this conversation at your funeral."

[Hunter] "Quit it!" Hunter says, shrugging easily out of Howard grip and ordering himself a coffee, black no milk no sugar.

"Whatchu mean I like them viking types...?" He pauses. "Shut up dick."

It takes about five seconds for them to make Hunters drink, and just as long for Hunter to make up his mind about Howard's proposition.

"Aight, but don't be a fuck head please? Let's try be nice ye?"

And he saunters on over.

[Tala Whitedeer] "We all grieve in our own ways."

[Tabitha Reese] "Fuck you. You're not invited to my funeral." She takes a sip of her latte, then pushes it away and nods at the two getting coffee. "Either of you know them?"

[Howard] Quit it!

Howard covers his mouth to try and stifle his laughter, his other hand planting itself on his hip. It's not terribly bright in here, the lights protected by sconces rather than blasted out in all their fluorescent glory, but Howard still doesn't take off his sunglasses even to talk to the poor college student behind the cash register. That doesn't stop him from flirting with her as he, likewise, orders a black coffee; it's a brief flirtation, however. She spends more time pouring the coffee than paying attention to the two idiots who just wandered in off the street.

Shut up dick.

"You're catchin' on way too quick," he says, as though this is an imposing realization. "Shaved like three whole seconds off your record." He reaches out for his coffee, perfunctorily thanking the barista before kicking Hunter's shoe with his own. "We goin' over or what?"

Let's try to be nice.

"HAh! Yeah, alright."

[Remy] "Tough luck. I'm crashing." On that note, Remy sits back and looks up at the newcomers. His countenance darkens at the sight of the smaller one. "You again," he says. "Where's your bigmouthed packmate?"

[Adamidas] Pop.

...

flush.

Water runs, then shuts off. The Black Fury walks out of the bathroom as though nothing ever happened.

[Hunter] Hunter isn't exactly a large man, but standing next to Howard Ivers he looks like a veritable wall. He could keep out Mongolian raiders if he wanted to. Whilst Howard is taller, Hunter is stocky, but they both have green eyes and they both smile far too often to be healthy.

"I think ya' got'em mixed up a bit, this one's the big mouth."

[Howard] One would think that that storm cloud moving over Remy's features was the achromat's version of a ray of sunlight bursting through the clouds the way the hipster breaks into a grin as he ambles over to the table. For someone who looks and oftentimes smells as though he doesn't bathe with any regularity, who is rarely without some sort of burning herb in hand, he has well-cared-for teeth.

Where's his bigmouthed packmate. The Fiann extends his right arm until his wrist pops out from beneath the sleeve of his leather jacket and consults the back of his wrist. There isn't a watch there; he stares at it for a few seconds anyway, then returns his hand to his hip with something of a flourish.

"Probably writin' a sad song on his guitar and havin' himself a cry," he says.

Hunter thinks he got them mixed up. Howard shakes his head.

"Nah... I'm the loudmouth. Very easy to mix up, especially if..." He turns to the table. "True story: I caught this fucker walkin' around with two left shoes on the other day."

[Tabitha Reese] Tabitha laughs loudly all of a sudden, hand clasped over her mouth to stop it as she elbows Tala. "Stop!"

[Tala Whitedeer] "I'm not doing anything. I'm sitting here, Tabby." She shakes her head and sighs.

[Tabitha Reese] "You're a goddamned liar." She elbows Tala again, then looks up to the two men. "Hey. How are ya?"

[Hunter] "I only got one pair'a a shoes you simple fuck." Hunter says, snatches out a chair from a nearby table and pushes it with the back facing towards their table. He straddles it with his elbows resting on it.

"I'm Hunter, and I'm good thanks." He says, eyes flicking between the occupants of the table. "This fuck here," and he throws a thumb over his shoulder and turns.

"Is Howard." He saves the insults, Howard proves how much of a dumbass he is without any help.

[Tabitha Reese] "Tabitha" She hides her hands in her pockets again, nodding to her packmate. "This is Tala. We're new."

[Tala Whitedeer] "Hi." She looks the two over, not bothering to conceal it as she sizes them up.

[Howard] "And it sounds like you're thinkin' about one of us naked," he says. He looks between Hunter and Remy, then jerks a thumb at the Fenrir. "It was him, wasn't it?"

[Hunter] "Well we know it wasn't you Howard, that's for sure."

[Tabitha Reese] "Maybe not so much naked as on fire." She offers Remy another charming smile.

[Remy] Now, all things considered, Remy's been more or less easygoing tonight. Sure, he laid down the law so far as his kin was concerned. Sure, he turned around and smacked said kin upside the head. Sure, he seems to have no social graces whatsoever, or at least pretends that's the case -- but the teasing between Fenrir and Fury tonight has, on the whole, been of the friendly-ribbing sort.

That sort of changes when Howard and his big buddy approach. Something in the young Fenrir's face tightens down. He sits back in his chair, a sort of exaggerated and deliberate broadening out of his physical presence that claims the air around him, the space around his feet.

"Why don't you two jokers quit pretending we're friends and take your comedy show on the road," he says. "If the bulldykes here want to join you that's their call. But I got here first and I don't much want to eat my sandwich looking at your pipsqueak faces."

[Howard] "'Bull... dy...'"

Howard turns to Hunter and drops into a crouch rather than sitting. When he speaks, it's in an exaggerated stage whisper.

"I don't speak Ignorant Twat, what's a bulldyke?"

[Tabitha Reese] "Oh for fuck's sake. We are NOT fucking."

[Remy] "It's a woman that doesn't want to fuck you on principle," Remy replies instantly, almost lazily, "and not just because your face looks like a kicked-in pile of horse shit. You noisy little cunt. Get lost."

[Howard] "Alright, alright, don't get your knickers in a twist, Prettyboy," he says, holding up a hand in a lopsided Don't shoot gesture.

[Hunter] Hunter is amused, he really is amused. He might not be so amused if the two females he is calling bulldykes weren't Garou. They can take care of themselves. Hunter would like to see Remy call Joey Oliver a bulldyke. As it stands he is trying his best but then Howard has to go and be Howard, and it comes out.

"pffffffftttttttttt." Air escaping as he laughs with a look of Oh shit on his face.

"Didn't ya' say he don't like that Howard?"

[Remy] Remy's eyebrows hop up on his forehead. Then he pops down the last of his sandwich -- and might we add that even with a mouth full of half-chewed food, through which he lets out one of the fouler belches of the century, he's still pretty enough to turn the heads of two college girls across the room -- and dusts his hands off.

"Okay, pipsqueak," he says, food-muffled. "You asked for it."

[inits!]

[Izzy Montoya] Speaking of noisy little cunts... [Ok, not really, but it seemed like a good enough line to steal.]

The door opens, as doors do when nudged from one side or the other, and she stalks in like she owns the joint. She doesn't, of course. She walks into most places like that - it's all in the attitude. She pulls off her gloves and stalks to the counter, and orders her coffee - hot and black, just like she likes her... well. Coffee.

Her features are strong, her breeding pure, her blood that of Viking Heroes. Her hair dark and longish, her eyes dark, her smile non-existent. She is lean - and by the looks of the bags under her eyes that have luggage of their own - exhausted.

[Howard] Oops.

"Oh, shit," he intones, trying not to laugh even in the face of an impending ass-kicking. Even though he's several inches taller than Remy, the term 'pipsqueak' isn't entirely a misnomer: the Fenrir has somewhere in the neighborhood of seventy pounds on the Fiann, and it's all muscle. Thrusting the coffee into Hunter's possession, Howard says, "TellPatrickIlovehim" and turns to run.

[+7!]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9

[Adamidas] This is where a Fostern should really... really... really give some semblance of a shit about what was going on. She steps way from the bathroom door, and the corner with all the banter and one very Attractive Rage-o-holic draws her attention. She is the spiritual equivalent of jet lagged. Her head is swimming, and her eyes come in to focus just in time to see a fight break out.

Her hands go to her hips. Attire is comfortable. Jeans with holes (air conditioning she insists), tights (because it's still developmentally appropriate for her to believe that tights with jeans are cool) and a hooded sweatshirt. The Fury carries a messenger bag with her. She shrugs her shoulders and wanderes towards the fray.

Literally, wanders, like the budding fight was more like finding a sale on bonbons.

[Remy] [+7!]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3 (Failure at target 6)

[Patrick] Of course, this would be the moment that Patrick, Howard's long suffering Galliard decides to grace the Cafe with his presence. Prayers to Broken Stone, a broad-shouldered kid with a head of sandy hair and brows to match; coupled with impossibly blue eyes was what most referred to as the quiet side of Caldera.

Put him beside Howard, and he was all but a mime. His conversation often little more than well timed shrugs or gesturing on one front or another. Presently, he's wearing his work attire -- that being dark blue coveralls and his battered leather jacket atop them. There are black fingerless gloves on his hands, and he's crossing the street toward the Cafe in question when he sees Howard, shooting out the door.

His eyebrows rise.

He watches, then flicks them toward his pursuer.

[Remy] [last call for inits! i'ma go review another section of my manuscript, and if there are no other inits when i get back i'ma declare.]

[Patrick] [Oh, why not! TUSSLE! +6]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9

[Tala Whitedeer]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Tabitha Reese]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Tala Whitedeer] ((+6))

[Tabitha Reese] (+7)

[Remy] [1. yell BOO! as Howard streaks out the door, sit back down.]

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She's whistling just for the sake of whistling as she makes her way down the street in the general direction of the Cafe, walking at an unhurried pace. She's got a hand-rolled cigarette out one corner of her mouth, and she pauses once she crosses at an intersection to light it before continuing on.

[Patrick] [1. Look disgusted with Remy
2. Lean against wall, James Dean style, and smoke a cigarette.]

[Howard] [1a: realize Remy's not chasing him
1b: wander back inside]

[Tala Whitedeer] ((grab a fork. Hold said fork in deathgrip))

[Tabitha Reese] (Trip Howard as he attempts to flee)

[Remy] [ok, i'ma wait to see outcome of the trip and then probably just go back IC *LOL*]

[Tabitha Reese] (Rolling for the trip!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Howard] [Athletics+Dexterity: GO GO HIPSTER BOOTS]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 1, 3 (Failure at target 6) [WP]

[Remy] "OOGLABOOGLABOO!" Remy yells -- nay, roars -- as Howard turns to run. Heads turn all around the room, and not just because Remy is fucking hot. The 'pipsqueak' streaks toward the door. Tabitha sticks out her foot. Howard goes sprawling. Neighboring tables gasp in alarm. Are you okay?! someone wants to know.

Remy picks his toppled chair back up off the ground, sits again, uses the pad of his thumb to pick up a few crumbs of his sandwich. "Dumbass," he comments, and reaches across the table to high-five Tabitha.

[Tabitha Reese] She returns the high five, settling back in her seat and gently prying the fork out of Tala's hand.

[Izzy Montoya] Her coffee arrives as one is running off. There's a tension about her lower back, dancing up her spine, as she turns her head enough to track what's going on. Only when everyone stands down - for now - does she turn to wrap her fingers around the cup, and move to the side so others can order as needed. She tucks her gloves into her pocket, then lifts her cup to take a swallow that's far to big for how hot the coffee is. She makes a face, a slight grimace, as the hot liquid burns over her tongue.

[Howard] He wipes out in spectacular fashion, nearly taking out one of the table's neighbors as he crashes into the floor, and a normal person would be pissed off, Rage flaring from embarrassment or pain or any other strong emotion that comes from being tripped while in the act of running from a man who looks like an underwear model.

Howard doesn't yell, or strike back at the bulldyke, or fire back when Remy calls him a dumbass. Granted, he loses his sunglasses, so all he can do for several seconds is squint, but he doesn't start fumbling for them. He flops onto his back and starts laughing.

"Oh Jesus," he announces, laughter dying down, then points where he thinks Tabitha is supposed to be; his finger ends up aimed somewhere around her navel. "Y'know, you ought to be careful, in some cultures that's considered foreplay."

[Tala Whitedeer] Prying the fork loose is easier said than done, but Tabitha IS stronger, so with a small whine of protest, off it goes.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She exhales a drag of smoke and goes back to her whistling, the shrill tones of "Twisted Nerve," as the cafe grabs her attention. With a shrug, she directs her steps toward it, stubbing the cigarette out just outside. Someone could use a coffee.

[Adamidas] She looks at the pile of people. The Fenrir, who puffed up all nice aand big, the Fianna who started to run, then was tripped... and then faceplanted. She inhales slowly, and a little more deeply than she realizes. The younger Fury clenches her jaw, and heads over. There's high fiving. Then laughing. Her jaw unclenches. She shrugs, and heads for the door.

"Hey," she says to Patrick on the way out, "I don't think you can smoke in here."

[Remy] [btw! you guys should put your pack up in the forums.]
to Tabitha Reese, Tala Whitedeer

[Tabitha Reese] She's about to answer Howard when the dark haired woman matching the description she was given captures her attention. Now her, she'd go bulldyke for. Getting up quickly, she pats Tala's shoulder and makes her way over to Alethea.

[Patrick] (Patrick is still outside! He'll stay there til I return with dinner in a min!)

[Tala Whitedeer] "Where are you going?" She seems alarmed suddenly.

[Tabitha Reese] (Oh! We will, thanks!)
to Remy

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She glances at Patrick as she slips in the door, recognizing him from the other night in the hallway of crowded bathrooms, towels and such that she'd stumbled upon. She gives him a nod and a wink as she slips inside, glancing around on her way toward the counter.

[Remy] "You know," Remy says to Tabitha and Tala, "you two aren't half bad. I'm staying at the Brotherhood. You should look me up sometime. Like if you want to go hunting or something."

On that note, he finishes picking crumbs off his plate and cocks his eyebrows at Drew. "I'm taking off, girl. You want me to walk you to your car so you can drive me to my boardinghouse?"

[Tabitha Reese] "I'll be right back. No stabbing anyone."

She nods to Remy "We'll do that." Then she's off to catch up with the other Fury.

[Adamidas] (ohshit! Sorry, delete last line!)

[Tala Whitedeer] "Bye." She nods curtly at Remy, then looks over at Tabby, watching her go with a look of growing displeasure.

[Drew Roscoe] Drew spent the whole of this ruckus just leaned back in her chair, watching the goings-on while looking like she couldn't be bothered to be upset or anxious about it anymore. The potential of a scuffle is left with a roar of 'ooga booga' to chase the curly-haired Fianna away, who winds up tripping over Tabitha's foot and crashing into some chairs and a table. The people who work are arguing near the end of the counter about whether they should kick them out, leave them, or call the cops and claim someone's disturbing the peace.

Her coffee's empty for the most part, cooled off enough that it's not as enjoyable anymore, when Remy finishes the crumbs from his sandwich and, in a roundabout way that made it sound like he would be helping her, asked for a ride back to The Brotherhood of Thieves. Drew took a last drink of her mug, set it on the table, and stood up. "Alright."

He keeps calling her Girl and she doesn't correct him. Just goes ahead and pulls her dark blue winter coat on, buttons it up to her collar bone, and makes a beeline for the door.

[Howard] Hunter has performed one of his disappearing acts or is eating paper napkins or something equally constructive, leaving Howard to either fumble around for his sunglasses for another two minutes until he finds them or do what he ends up doing, which is abandoning them in favor of attempting to grope his way from the floor to a chair. In order to pursue Alethea, Tabitha has to step over or around the prone Fiann; that doesn't seem to be an impediment, and he doesn't take the opportunity to trip her as she does so.

He lies still a moment, blinking so slowly he ends up squeezing his eyes shut a few times, then sits up. His hand finds the chair Tabitha vacated, and he clumsily--silently--picks himself off the floor and sits his skinny ass down. When his eyes, a shade of green similar to Hunter's, move around it isn't with the same sharpness and precision that the rest of the patrons' do: they don't focus on anything, and his brow is furrowed.

Slowly, it dawns on him that someone's still here.

"I think she fancies me," he says, and folds his hands on the table.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She pauses a second in her walk as she sees Howard on the floor, recognizing him from that other night as well. She opens her mouth as if to ask why he's on the floor, then looks to the table everyone's at before shrugging it off with apparent acceptance. On her way to get her coffee she goes.

[Remy] It wasn't a very subtle way to ask for a ride, but Remy looks downright delighted when he actually scores one. The resultant grin makes at least one of the arguing baristas lose her train of thought. Remy buttons back up in his winter coat, his scarf and hat and gloves, and pretty soon there's just that little sliver of face showing again.

"Okay," he mumbles through his buttoned collar. "I'm good. Let's go."

[Tala Whitedeer] She looks over at Howard, blinking slowly. "What?"

[Patrick] All the while the Fianna Galliard has been outside, foot propped against the wall; smoking like a wannabe rebel. He's flicking it away when the Fenrir appears, exiting with his ride. "Well hello, gorgeous." Patrick drawls, for no real reason and cants the man a salute.

[Tabitha Reese] She stops herself just short of grabbing Alethea's arm, settling instead for brushing her fingers on the other woman's arm to get her attention and clearing her throat.

[Drew Roscoe] Remy was good to go, and at this point the mayhem in the coffee shop had driven up the little Kinfolk's blood pressure to the point that she was barely paying mind to anyone else. Family first and that was all, if he wasn't a Fenrir she would have hit the pavement long ago. She only just notices Izzy as she's holding the door open and waiting for Remy to catch up, and the detective Kin gets a long stare before a nod of acknowledgment. No warm smiles, no waves, no 'Hey Izzy!', just the nod.

Once Remy's caught up, Drew's stepping outside along with him.....

...right into the face of another show of provocation. Drew looked up at Patrick, some guy she's never seen or met before, calling him 'gorgeous'. While this was a truth there was no point in denying, it had caused him to snap at the Black Fury, then charge the Fianna to scare him off. Drew was giving him a ride, she wanted to get her ass back home, have a drink or two to calm the nerves, and go to sleep so she could get her ducks in a row for her interview on Monday.

So she breaks her act of 'good, quiet kin' and jams a finger at Patrick. Everyone has a last straw, and the number of them wane as the hours tick by. "You. Smug guy. Shut the hell up and let us go home. Your pals are in there waiting up for you." That finger retracts so she can jerk her thumb toward the cafe door.

[Adamidas] She stops and turns around. Someone touches her arm, and she looks up. Her lips upturn, and something about her seems... distinctly more grounded than Tabitha remembered. She is also, simultaneously, less there than she was when they first met. She perks up-

"Oh! Hey!"

[Tabitha Reese] "Hey." She smiles, looking relieved. "I was going to call you. To let you know we're here. How are you?" She's babbling, gesturing too much with her hands as she talks.

[Howard] "What?"

When he turns his head towards Tala, his eyes land in the general direction her voice came from. They aren't bloodshot or red, nor are they marred by bruising or scars; there is no discernible reason why it's dark out and he arrived wearing sunglasses. There are some bizarre females out there who claim this young man is attractive, that he has pretty eyes or the whole skinny mop-haired asshole thing is a turn-on, but none of those bizarre females exist on this side of the fourth wall so the ones left standing shall be spared.

"Which one are you?"

[Tala Whitedeer] "Which one am I what?" She looks confused.

[Izzy Montoya] Izzy takes a seat at an empty table, setting her cup down and rubbing her fingers together to warm them. Drew notices her, and gives a long look, which Izzy simply returns. She arches a brow, slightly, just as Drew nods, and turns to go outside.

Izzy, likewise doesn't call out, doesn't smile, doesn't wave. And she likes it that way just fine.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She gets her coffee, paying with a grin, and turns around to look over the room once more. She considers for a moment before heading over to the big, occupied table and nodding at Howard. "I remember you. How's your ass?"

[Adamidas] She doesn't say anything, she just hugs the other Fury and holds on like she might fall apart and float away just by being there. She is warm, and she is surprisingly solid for being... well... being her. It's a little known, less cared about fact that Alethea Adamidas has a heavier build than her height suggests. Even with the apparent weight loss, she's solid.

"Where are you staying?" her voice is muffled.

[Remy] Another night -- the night Patrick called him a Silver Fang, for example -- and Remy might have flown into a fury. Tonight's a pretty good night, though. He traded jabs with a Black Fury that gave as good as she got and miraculously didn't get pissed; he scared Patrick's loudmouth alpha off; he watched said Black fury trip said loudmouth alpha on his way out. Good night. Good happenings.

So there's no frothing at the mouth. There's no sudden lunge for the throat. There's just a smirk that widens when Drew gives Patrick the one-finger salute.

"Aw, don't be jealous," Remy says, slinging his arm unapologetically around Drew and hugging her against a side that feels as solid as a slab of beef. "Charming fella like yourself, I'm sure you'll find some company tonight.

"Better stay off this one though. Don't think you can handle her kind of fire, Stag-boy."

[Patrick] He ignores the finger, breathing smoke out his nostrils as he straightens. His bright eyes consider Drew for a beat, and he glances back at Remy. "I like her," he notes as mildly as if he'd been commenting on a new car, already turning his shoulders toward the Cafe door.

"She's almost got the mouth of a Fianna."

He pulls open the door, turning with his back to it to raise both eyebrows at the pair of Fenrir. "Have a good one."

[Howard] He sits in furrow-browed thought for a grand total of two seconds, which is something of a record between Howard being asked a question and Howard spitting out an incendiary response. When he comes up with it, he snaps his fingers in an unspoken I got it.

"No, wait, you're not the one with the--"

At which point Sarita arrives at the table. Its occupancy has dwindled significantly; only the Uktena and the Fiann are left, now, and the Fiann doesn't appear startled or anxious that someone whose voice he's never heard has wandered up asking him about his ass.

"I don't remember you," he says, without missing a beat. "What'd you do to my ass?"

[Tabitha Reese] She hugs the other Fury back tightly, looking considerably more settled now. "It's good to see you. We're just in motel rooms for the moment. Come meet Tala"

[Tala Whitedeer] Another unidentified person, and she's definitely looking overwhelmed. Not quite shutting down, but getting there .

[Adamidas] "But-" she says "-I have to go. There aren't a lot of- I'm needed on the other side."

Because when is a theurge ever not needed on the other side.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] "It's grandfathered into Don't Ask, Don't Tell. Next time, spend a lifetime building an immunity to iocane powder, or as I like to call it, Rohypnol." She looks over at Tala and does the upward chin tilt can be construed as a greeting. "Hola."

[Tabitha Reese] "Oh..." She nods. "Right, of course. I"m sorry. Some other time."

[Drew Roscoe] Remy's arm is tossed about her waist and draws her in against his side with no hint of shame or apology in the gesture. On another night he'd feel her shoulders hunch up uncomfortably and her muscles go tense. In another setting being hugged into so handsome a man's side with his hand at her waist, hip, belly... anywhere in that area, that might coax a blush.

Tonight she just looks like she just figured out that the candles on her birthday cake were trick ones. Her frown is less aggressive and more annoyed, the hand that she was gesturing at the Fianna (she gets that from Remy calling him 'Stag-boy') drops to her side, and she just stands loose-limbed against the Godi's side and stares up the street while Patrick compliments Remy by saying he liked her, wishes them a good night, and heads inside. One can only guess that Drew's counting from ten backwards in her head.

A tick of the second hand passes on the clock inside the cafe, and Drew reaches into her pockets to tug on her white mittens, but doesn't jerk her shoulder into his side or try and wrench out from under his arm. "Truck's up the road. You'll have to nevermind the plastic."

[Adamidas] She gives Tabitha a quick squeeze.

"I'll come find you," she tells her.

[Tala Whitedeer] "Hi. Hello." she nods at Sarita as well, definitely tense.

[Howard] "Oh, hey, look at that, startin' off with a date rape joke!" He lifts two thumbs to indicate his approval, sarcastic as it is, then indicates where he thinks a chair might maybe be with his finger. "You'll fit right in."

[Tabitha Reese] "Alright." She nods, kissing the Fury on both cheeks before leaving the Theurge to her work and scooting back to her table and the increasingly panicked Tala.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] "Hey, I like putting by best foot forward. Wherever that may put it." She grins and takes a seat, at least nice enough to not sit too close to the timid one. "I'm Sarita. Saw you during the thing with the limping and the bathroom and all that shit. It's understandable you may not have seen me. You were focused on something else."

[Tala Whitedeer] "Who was that?" She snaps at Tabitha, bristling for some reason known only to her.

[Tabitha Reese] "That was the one that I told you about." She resists the urge to dump Howard out of her old seat, taking the one vacated by Remy instead.

[Tala Whitedeer] "Oh."

[Howard] "Love," he says, sitting back with a sigh, "you've no idea how many days of the week you managed to describe with the words 'limpin'' and 'bathroom.'"

His attention jumps the tracks with a speed that is enough to induce whiplash in the unconditioned.

"You seen a light-eyed fella with skin like mashed potato and a--"

Who was that?

"Jesus!" Howard says, as though she's startled him. When Tabitha returns she'll note that the young man, whose tribe does not announce itself in his blood and whose Rage is so scant it is barely noticed by even the most weak-willed of humans, is sans sunglasses; his expression is focused but his eyes are vacant, as though he's staring into fog and can't see a damned thing.

[Remy] To be fair, Remy lets Drew go pretty much as soon as 'Stag-boy' goes in. He tugs his hat a little lower over his forehead, obscuring even his eyebrows now. Must not be from so cold a climate. God knows where he's from -- for all that easy american slang, there are sometimes hints and glimmers of muddled, myriad accents in his voice.

"Sorry about that," he explains. "That jackass called me a Silver Fang the last time we met and then got lucky enough to win the fight." He doesn't even bother to explain why there was a fight. Or what it was about. It's obvious in his mind. At least he's honest about losing, though, shameful as it is. "That was his Alpha in there that the Fury sent sprawling. That was pretty satisfying."

And, "Plastic?"

[Tabitha Reese] "What's wrong with you?"

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] "If limping and bathroom describes multiple days, you may be quickly becoming my favorite person I've met here so far." She looks up as Tabitha approaches, going quiet for a second as she looks her over and seeing how this changes the table's dynamic.

[Tala Whitedeer] She gives Tabitha a scowl, saying nothing.

[Howard] What's wrong with you?

"Who?" He points in Tala's direction. "Her? I think she's jealous."

[Tabitha Reese] She looks Sarita over quickly, then offers a nod. "Hey."

Her nose wrinkles at Howard. "No, you. Why would she be jealous?"

[Drew Roscoe] Not one to question why a pair of Garou will get into a fight, Drew instead started walking up the sidewalk once Remy's arm unwraps from her back and side. He was gentlemanly enough not to let it linger, even went so far as to apologize for the act (though the necessity for it was beyond her, she wasn't bothered enough to pitch a fit over it). Her shoulders shrugged, white mittened hands adjusted the lapels and collar of her coat, and she walked the curb as he explained himself, and while she explained herself in turn when the plastic was brought up and questioned.

"Huh," is what she has to say on the pack that he's talking about, how satisfying it had been for him to see Stag-boy's alpha eat floor. And "Don't worry about it," for the apology.

As for the plastic: "I haven't quite had a chance to get the blood cleaned off the seats yet. The week's been hectic, to say the least." She doesn't have to tell the whole story, not unless he asks for it specifically. She doesn't need to say that it's her own blood that cakes most of the vehicle, and the rest is from an ally-- none of it is from an enemy. It was a part of being Garou and, unfortunately, these situations tended to spill over and make it a part of being Kin as well. It was just a shame that they were so much more fragile.

[Tala Whitedeer] "I'll see you back at the motel, Tabitha." She nods to Sarita and Howard, standing and heading for the exit. ((bedtime))

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] "Nice meeting you...uh, person," she calls in Tala's direction as she departs.

[Howard] "Lady," he says, laughing slightly as he sits back in his chair, "do I look like I've the slightest idea why girls do the things they do? We aren't wired the same, for Christ's sa--oh hey later!"

[Hunter] At some point Hunter walks back in, slaps Howard in the ear and sits down in a chair.

"Stop it, I don't care what it is, just stop it."

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] "Well, in all fairness it WOULD be dull if we were all wired the same." She looks over at Hunter as he comes up. "You I remember too."

[Howard] "Ow!!" He sounds indignant; however, this is Howard, who only expresses genuine emotion by affecting the exact opposite. His hand goes up over his ear, and he starts laughing. "You got me in the ear, you wanker!"

[Patrick] Patrick steps into the Cafe -- though he has been taking his own sweet time about it and saunters up to his Alpha; Howard's shoulders get the benefit of his pack-brother's large palms pressing down firmly on them as the Bone Gnawer resurfaces from -- elsewhere -- and slaps the Theurge's ear.

Patrick sets his gaze over the assembled; his Rage like a persistent heaviness in the air.

"Hey."

[Tabitha Reese] She quiets, watching the three as Patrick joins them.

[Izzy Montoya] At some point, she'd finished her coffee. Now, she stands, pulls her gloves back on, and heads toward the door.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] And then she looks up at Patrick. "And you, of course I remember. Hola."

[Remy] Remy laughs, a single muffled Ha! echoing down the quiet street. "Transporting bodies, were you?"

[Hunter] "Ah.." He scratches his chin "Oh.. that's right, you was at the fuckin' broho last week or some shit. Good ta' see ya' again."

He ignores Howard's at least for now. He's like one of those fake babies, it will always be there, crying and moaning and being useless. They take hundreds of years to degrade as well. Those annoying little fucks. Somewhere in a dump there is an underground city of crying moaning cabbage patch dolls.

"Hey patty."

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She checks her watch. "Oh...yeah, I guess it is last week by now. Huh. Nice to see you too though. S'up?"

[Drew Roscoe] "Only mine and a friend's." There's a beat, and she corrects herself. "No, there was a body in the back, but that was easy to hose off." She's not scowling so hard now, being out of the cafe and back on the street, walking away with the knowledge that a bed and room all her own was only thirty or forty minutes away was promising enough a thought that it calmed her down some.

Her dark cherry painted Dodge Ram is near the end of the block, and when close enough to it she extracts her keys from her coat pocket and presses the button that has the lights flashing to indicate where the vehicle is and that its doors are now unlocked. The story leaves much to be desired, plenty of details left out (like exactly what the fuck happened and why she and this friend were bleeding rather than all the bad guys dead bodies), but the fact was that she was standing there looking as fit and healthy as could be. There's no limp in her step or pain in her face when stops at her truck and pulls open the passenger door. On a street like this with drunk drivers and taxi cabs alike dominating the road, it was just safer and smarter to go in through the passenger side if you could.

All's well that ends well right?

[Patrick] There's a Black Fury whose face he does not recognize, another he recalls from the Brotherhood and a Fenrir Kinswoman whom he last glimpsed the night Howard took a swandive off a fire escape.

And Hunter.
Who calls him Patty and gets the benefit of a frown.

Izzy is gone too quickly for the Galliard to salute her, so his attention re-focuses on the newcomers. "Hey, I don't think I caught your name last time." To Sarita, those blue, blue eyes all hers for a beat, then they shift to the Black Fury. "And yours is a face I don't know at all."

He sticks a hand out; it's rough and his movement brings with it the wave of motor-oil and cigarette smoke. The latter far fresher than the former. He clasps hands where he's offered and adds, with emphasis: "I'm Patrick, people call me Prayers to Broken Stone."

He nods at Howard.

"This one's pack-mate." Speaking of, Patrick glances at Howard's face; the frown returns. "Did you lose your sunglasses when the Fenrir chased you? Fuck, how many pairs have you lost being chased around?" He starts making some cursory sweep of the Cafe floor.

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She affects a terrible British accent. "Ecos de la Risa. Sarita...Ecos de la Risa. I take my martinis neither shaken nor stirred, but thrown the fuck out so I can have tequila shots."

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] And she takes the offered hand with a hearty handshake.

[Howard] "I'll have you know," he says, "it wasn't the chasin' that made them fall off, it was..."

He blindly points a finger towards Tabitha, knocking over an empty cup in the process. There has been a period of palpable silence over the totemphone, Howard not screaming for help or recounting his last will and testament prior to being destroyed like he usually does.

"... the tripping. Don't usually have an man-hater pop out of nowhere to help a woman-hater, man, I'll be on my toes next time."

[Tabitha Reese] "I don't hate men. Some Furies DO have to like men, you know."

[Howard] "Oh, come off it," he says, "I have sex with people I hate all the time."

[Remy] "Huh." Remy thinks for a while. Maybe it's that handsome, handsome face. Maybe it's all the muscle. Whatever the reason, thinking looks like it takes more effort for him than, say, throwing a punch. Or ripping off a scathing insult or three. If Drew knew his auspice, she might be surprised. Most people are. Then they find out how long it took him to earn Cliathhood, and it's not such a surprise anymore.

"Was the body in the back responsible for the blood on the seats, at least?"

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She laughs a little bit. "I picked the right coffee joint to frequent tonight, I see."

[Tabitha Reese] "Masturbation doesn't count, sugar." She smiles sweetly, then looks at the door. "I should probably go make sure Tala got back okay."

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] The laugh turns into a full cackle. "Instant classic right there."

[Drew Roscoe] Drew pegged him for a Rotagar. It was the crotch grab that nailed it. He's pondering what she had to say about the blood on the seats, even as she steps up onto the foot hold of the truck then climbs across the truck's bench to slide in behind the wheel, plastic that covered the back and seat of the bench crinkling noisily in protest while she went. The plastic sheet was clear but cloudy, but even through that the dark brown of dried blood that interrupted the light gray of the seat beneath could be seen. There was a lot of it behind the driver's wheel, right where she sat.

His question is met with a curious expression, a moment to think about how to answer that, and she waits until he's in and the truck door's closed to answer. "Mostly, but it wasn't the only one. The rest of them followed us and it turned into a full-out battle maybe forty minutes or an hour later." Keys in the ignition and she starts the truck. "No casualties on our side.... but it got pretty close." Both mirrors are checked and doors are locked before Drew's pulling out into traffic.

[Howard] It's only for five seconds, but that comeback shuts Howard up long enough for Tabitha to make her exit. He laughs, but the fact that he doesn't have an instantaneous game-ender to hurl back at her means she's either struck a nerve, or that was simply too well-played an insult to recover from right away.

"What, your 'phone' busted?" he asks. "Tabitha, love, if you can't stand your attraction to me, just say so. You don't have to go runnin' off. It'll save us all a lot of pain and heartache in the long run."

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She smirks, waving to Tabitha. "Nice to kind-of meet ya. Have a good'n."

She then turns her attention to Howard. "You just got 'powned,' as the kids these days say. Y'know that, right?"

[Tabitha Reese] "You've got me. It's all I can do to not throw myself at you right here, right now. If I don't leave now, I'm sure to do something that you regret." She leans in, delivering a toe curling kiss to Howard before nodding to the others and breezing out. (Bed!)

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] Her eyes widen, and she laughs. "Correction. You just got old-school motherfuckin' OWNED."

[Howard] To say that Howard does not see that coming isn't an exaggeration. He literally does not realize she's there until she's inches from his face, and then the Fury has her mouth on his. A Litany-following, Gaia-fearing servant of the spirits would be pushing away from her as fast as he possibly could; Howard, stunned as he is, doesn't even think to reciprocate. He smells like Febreze and marijuana smoke but his breath is vaguely fruity, as though he's been chewing gum. His eyes stay open, and when she pulls back and disappears, he sucks in a breath.

He got old-school motherfuckin' owned.

"The fuck did you just say?" he asks, feigning belligerence, before reaching down to unceremoniously adjust the crotch of his jeans. "Speak English."

[Remy] "Hm," Remy makes another thinking noise, "so my question really is: did you take care of them all, or do I have to kick some asses?"

[Drew Roscoe] "We got 'em," is the short answer.

The addendum is tacked on with a lift of one eyebrow and a half a smirk to accompany her glance in his direction before eyes return to the road. "But I don't think anyone will ever have all of Them taken care of."

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] "That was English, Mack Daddy." She grins. "Si quieres que no hablan Inglés, puedo hacer eso también."

[Howard] "Estamos en los estados unidos, chica," he sighs, suddenly sounding weary, pinching the bridge of his nose for effect; "los americanos no les gusta cuando los extranjeros hablan sus lenguas extrañas."

[Patrick] Meanwhile, Patrick has been on a sunglasses hunt. Or, one assumes as much, anyway. There is, after a time no small amount of scuffling beneath a corner table and a female seated nearby gives a little shriek when Patrick's shoulder brushes into her bare leg.

"Aha."

He says, voice muffled. A hand emerges with a pair of sunglasses, followed by the rest of his body. He shakes dust out of his hair, glances at the woman; she quivers a little. It's the Rage, that's all. "Sorry, you were in the way." Then he gets to his feet, and wanders back to his Alpha; taking his hand and firmly slapping his glasses into his palm.

"I'm fitting 'em with a fucking pager."

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] She nods, the grin ratcheted up. "Sí, pero usted conoce a alguien mejor, cuando no ver lo que los enfurece. Y los americanos son muy, muy bueno en el supuesto que alguien que habla español no sabe Inglés, que es ideal para espiar."

[Sarita Ecos de la Risa] The fact that Patrick just emerged and missed the whole 'owning' bit seems to amuse her, and she nods to him. "Welcome back."

[Remy] We got 'em, she says. Remy, climbing onto the plastic sheets and shutting the door and buckling himself in as she gets this show on the road, tosses her an approving glance.

"Good girl. I hate having to clean up after someone else. So you got a name, or am I just going to call you 'girl' for the rest of your life?"

[Drew Roscoe] He finally gets around to asking about a name, and that gets a bit of a chuckle from the Kinfolk. "Girl works fine. Or Drew. Or if you wanna get on my great side, Long Shot." Kin had to work hard to get something close to a deed name, you better believe she was proud of hers.

The drive back to The Brotherhood of Thieves wasn't a difficult one, she didn't have to ask him once about directions, she's obviously been a few times before (truth be told, she's driven there several times but it was a rare thing that she would actually go inside-- paranoia instilled by a fanatic was a difficult thing to shake). A few turns, stoplights, and a dozen or so blocks of main road are eaten up by the unnecessarily large truck for an urban setting before they're in the parking lot, around by the employee door that the Garou typically used rather than the customer entrance.

Remy'd get dropped off with a name, phone number, and an explanation that she could be reached at any time because Family didn't get a day off.