long shot.

[Gah! Dunno what happened to the first part of this transcript. Remy basically goes to find Drew!]

[Remy]
Remy's good at this, too. He gets the fire starts quickly and easily. Good with his hands. Good with physical stuff, brute-strength type stuff. Nothing like the stereotypical theurge, the perfect theurge.

With the flames licking up amongst the logs, Remy sits back on his heels. He strips out of his coat the way one might strip out of a sweater: pulling it up over his head, tossing it on the ground to sit on. Under that he's got a microfleece zip-up on, thin but warm. That comes off too, and he tosses it at Drew.

"To sit on," he elaborates. "So it's not just your bony butt and the hard floor."

Despite broaching the topic, he seems to be in no hurry to continue. He picks up the mug of coffee and blows on it gently, then sips. His gloves off now, he has surprisingly beautiful hands -- longboned and lean. Then again, maybe that's not a surprise. Everything about him is beautiful, no matter how hard he tried to make himself hard, muscular, tough, aggressive.

"I just thought," he says after a while, staring at the fire, "that maybe I should ... explain myself. I mean. First I brought up your man. And maybe that was kinda out of line of me. I only did it because I honestly thought Erek was sniffing around your skirts and I was ... offended."

[Drew Roscoe]
She's warming up still-cold fingers on her mug of coffee, cupping it with both hands, when he leans back and pulls off the outer layers of his clothing, jacket first then sweater. She watches him take off the coat, curious to the fact that he tugs it over his head rather than unzipping it like most people would, but glances back to the flames, dismissive and non-judgmental. How one undresses was hardly something to be making tabs on.

When he tossed the sweater over, she looked a little... not surprised, but curious at first. He elaborates, and she nods, lifting her rump off the ground and tucking the sweater underneath, grinning a little at the 'bony butt' mention. She was far from ideal, especially when compared to Remy himself. She was short, dark haired and eyed rather than blonde and blue-eyed like so many other Fenrir kin seemed to be, muscled in most areas, soft overtop that in some, but certainly not long or sleek. If there was one thing she could be sure of, though, it was that her butt wasn't truthfully classified as 'bony'.

They sip coffee for a second, and she doesn't press him to hurry up and explain himself. He does so in his own time, on his own terms, and she listens as he does. She keeps the mug up by her lips, occasionally pressing her cheek to the ceramic to warm it more quickly, to take away the rosiness from the sharp sting of snow and wind that had been assaulting them all morning.

She speaks calmly, softly. There wasn't much need to be loud when the only background noise was the whistle of wind through tree branches and the crackle of a growing fire. "It set me... a bit melancholy last night that you mentioned Joe, I'll admit, but I don't think it was real out of line. Mistaken, maybe?" Another sip of coffee, and she rests the mug's bottom on one knee, running a thumb along the edge of the handle, eyes down on her hands, the reflection of the ceiling in the coffee itself.

"But still, on a level I have to appreciate it anyways. A lot of people don't understand grieving. Either they're so used to loss and having to move on from it, or they're accustomed to seeing the wayward affairs that people around here are prone to... but I don't feel like most want to give me time. Kora, bless her, jumps immediately into business the first time I see her. That's how she is, how she has to be, I understand that.

"I just know how it is when Kin don't have anybody with claim on them. Some of you guys see it as open game and turn it into that. It's nice to know someone's at least willing to stand up and explain things how they are." A finger taps at the rim of the glass, and she grins some at him. "When I say it, the answer is 'the lady doth protest too much.'"

[Remy] Beautiful he might be, but there's no finesse, no polish whatsoever to the muscular young Godi in Drew's dining room/den. He sits hunkered over, legs crossed indian-style, shoulders and chest so thick they seem fit to burst out of the plain thermal t-shirt he has on under everything else he had on. He shifts uncomfortably as she so easily forgives him -- praises him, even -- for respecting boundaries. Remembering her mate. All that.

"Yeah well," he says, slurping another sip of coffee before setting the mug down. In two quick, thoughtless gestures he tugs his shirt out where it had ridden up under his arms, then picks the mug up again in his big hands, almost restless. "That's the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. I kinda just ... blurted it out last night. That I thought you were hot."

He takes a gulp of coffee. Too big. It scalds him on the way down, making him grimace and wince. Remy takes his coffee with a little cream, no sugar; when he sets the mug down yet again, the rich brown liquid inside is still visibly steaming.

"I just wanted you to know it wasn't some hidden declaration of love or anything. I mean, I like you. And I do think you're pretty cute. Plus you've got that... y'know, a bit of that je ne sais quoi that turns heads. Especially Garou heads. But I figure you for a friend, all right? We barely know each other. You just lost your mate. I get that and I respect it. You don't have to start wearing chastity belts around me."

His eyes are downcast. Idly, absently, he plays with the little spoon in the mug, swirling it around and around until there's a veritable whirlpool in his cup. Letting that slowly spin down, he looks at Drew at last.

"Anyway, that's what I came to say."

[Drew Roscoe] Drew's sitting in a manner quite similar to Remy, but instead of hunching forward so drastically she's straightened up some, posture drilled to be better by years of lessons, but enough time has passed between them and now that it wasn't so stiff. She sipped her coffee, then set the mug on top of her thigh and shifted her position, stretching her legs out toward the fireplace to warm her toes and propping her left hand on the floor behind her to maintain balance.

She's got her loosely-tied ponytail over one shoulder, and is smiling warmly over at the handsome Godi that, understandably, was typically mistaken for anything but. The smile has a hint of apology to it, and she shakes her head some when he closes his words up simply.

"I'm not oblivious. I noticed." Not full of herself, she doesn't present this like she thinks all eyes follow her up the street or that she could have a string of lovers trailing in her wake. She's too down to earth for that, too practical. She was the kind of girl that worked with her hands, as opposed to the kind that would charm a man into doing it for her. Yet that didn't make her an ignorant, sexless little girl either. She'd caught glances, trailing eyes from the Godi, and figured he wouldn't continue accompanying her on things as silly as visiting Last Watch and hunting for a young Rotagar out in a blizzard if he didn't at least enjoy her company.

She's hesitant to continue from that point, but it was only fair. Remy'd come out through the continuing blizzard to see her, to talk to her. He'd had the respect to do so in person rather than muttering awkwardly over the phone. She owed him that much honesty in return.

"Were timing different, Remy? I'd give it a shot. You're downright intolerable sometimes," and this is said with an affectionate grin, honest but accepting, "with all the fighting and egging on, but that's in your guys's nature to a point. I can't fault that too heavily. The rest of the time, though... Like this? Now? It's nice. You're good company. I like being around you, going out for beers and shooting the shit."

She nips at her lower lip with her incisor. "It's far from fair to ask anyone to wait around, I won't do that."

It seems she could add more to that, might have been considering, but decides against for one reason or another. Instead she brings her mug to her lips and takes another drink, this one deeper than the small sips she'd been nursing the drink with but not fast enough to scald and make her flinch like what Remy had done with his.

[Remy] Something almost shy about Remy in the last few moments. Stumbling words, hesitation between. Now, though, when she tells him not to wait around for her, his grin splits wide and white. It's his usual self again: loud, boisterous, cocky.

"Don't you worry about me. I won't be hanging around your doorstep pining away for the day, missing out on sweet tail in the meantime. If some fine young mama sees fit to bat her eyelashes at me, you can bet you ass I'm gonna go get mine. My life's too short to be waiting around, sweet-tits."

-- not exactly the declaration of eternal fidelity and faith one might hope for. Not exactly the respect and courtesy he implicitly promised, either. But then Remy lifts his mug again, takes a smaller, more careful sip, dark eyes all but twinkling over the rim. When he lowers it, he licks coffee off his upper lip and smiles, and it's a genuine smile, warmer, not so full of bluster.

"But. Y'know. If the day comes that moving on stops feeling so much like betraying a beloved's memory, you should let me know. Until then maybe we'll just keep grabbing beers now and then."

[Drew Roscoe] She's smirking right back at him while he's promising her that he'd be more than happy to go chase a tail that wagged for him, but not bothering to correct. She's stepped out onto the street with him several times before, seen how girls (and the occasional guy) will stare with a relaxed jaw at him, how some of those will take a second to shoot daggers in her direction. She neverminds it, but she knows that for Remy there'll be no shortage of opportunity.

His life was too short, he said, and she nodded faintly. He was perfectly right on that one, their lives were too short. Far too short.

But he switches gears, more warm than bolstering. Says that if the day comes, when she feels less like it would be betrayal, she should tell him. When the day came that she could think about moving on and not compare every detail to Joe, then perhaps she would. She says so.

"Y'know, I think that sounds about perfect."