It is currently 19:43 Pacific Time on Thu Oct 4 2001.
Currently the moon is in the waning Full Moon phase (84% full).

The TV is on in the rec room, playing the news as Dizzy lounges on the couch, a 
half-eaten pizza lays on the floor in front of her.

Salem pauses at the street, comparing the contents of a business card to the 
address before him. Satisfied, he approaches the entrance of the building, 
tucking the card away inside his wallet as he does so. He rings the buzzer.

Dizzy starts at the sound of someone at the door and with a quick glance 
around, realizes that she's got answering-duty currently. Off the couch and 
into the lobby she checks the monitor and, not recognizing who it is, the cub 
asks through the door, "Yes? How may I help you?"

Salem takes a step back from the door, tucking his hands into the pockets of 
his long coat, his expression bland and his eyes hidden behind dark glasses. 
"I'm here visiting family," he answers. His tone of voice is civil, even 
pleasant. "Rina gave me the address. She said I should ask for someone named 
'Johnny'."

Dizzy takes a second for this to register, she shakes her head and opens the 
door. "John's out right now, but if you're family, come on in." She smiles at 
the new arrival, holding out her hand, "My name's Dizzy."

[Dizzy]
         A young, barely out of her teens, just a couple inches over five and 
a half feet tall. Fairly, skinny all the way up, Dizzy is quite self conscious 
about her small bust size. She has fairly short, slightly wavy, brown hair 
that just barely covers the back of her neck. Her nose seems to suggest an 
italian background and her brown eyes refelct a hint of intelligence, as she 
stands with a calm air. She tends to stay out late so beware of meeting her 
before her morning cup of mocha frappachino. 
        She is currently wearing a white blouse with a small orange sun-like 
insignia just under the neckline with a long skirt with thick, verticle blue 
and light blue stripes, seperated by think black lines on a white background. 
Over that she is wearing a long, open, dark grey oilskin coat. On her head is 
a light blue, white and yellow plaid patterend bucket hat with a cartoon fish 
with wings and a star above it's head on the front of it. Around her neck is 
a farily long string of large, polished, wooden beads. She is wearing a pair 
of very thin, light lavender colored cotton socks and brown suede platform 
clogs that increase her height by about two inches. A couple of decorative 
rings adorn her fingers and a pair of red tinted sunglasses rest on her nose.

"Salem." The visitor's hand is slightly calloused, and he has an aura of 
tightly-controlled bad temper -- but his return smile is actually rather 
friendly, and over that core of frothing rage is a carefully cultivated layer 
of calm civility. "Pleased to meet you."

Dizzy inspects the visitor with a critical eye. "You mentioned you were 
family..." she says, "Now, is that like kin, or /family/?"

Salem's smile takes on a wry twist. "The latter. May I come in?"

Dizzy motions for him to do so with a grin, "Of course," she says, stepping 
aside. "Wow, there must have been like, some call put out. I'm a cub, by the 
way. Ragabash cub. Known as both Spins-in-Circles and 
Protects-Others-From-Themselves."

Salem glances at Dizzy again, one brow rising in a look of mild surprise. "Cub? 
I wouldn't have guessed." Once inside, he removes the sunglasses and stows them 
away inside his coat. One brown eye studies Dizzy carefully; the other -- on 
the same side as the scars on his face -- is pure white. "Cliath Philodox."

"Yeah, yeah," the cub says, "I changed late... well, real late, I guess, 
judging by the fact that all other cubs I've met are, like, twelve to fifteen." 
She starts to sound a little angry, but shakes her head. "Another Philodox, 
huh? Okay. I'll call John and tell him you're here. He's acting elder for the 
tribe right now."

"It's no shame," Salem remarks, diplomatically. "Better that you've developed 
your own mind before being thrust into... mm. Everything." He gives the area a 
glance around. "Mind if I sit?"

Dizzy gestures to the rec room as she pulls out her cell phone. "Sure, you can 
have the pizza too. It's still warm, so..." She dials the number for John's 
cell and places hers up to her ear.

Salem nods and heads into the rec room, shedding the leather duster and folding 
it over the back of the couch as he takes a seat. He ignores the pizza after a 
brief glance at it, and sits forward on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, 
hands steepled together.

[Walker Safe House]
        This small tenement building is a work that any interior decorator 
would be proud of. The building is somehow filled with light and space, despite 
the fact that the room is far from large. Mirrored surfaces and lush green 
potted plants are much in evidence - jarring only slightly with the video 
cameras that perch unobtrusively in various locations. A small sign on the wall 
lists the number of apartments upstairs as eight, though there are no names 
next to the apartment numbers. A very thick door leads downstairs, with no 
visible method of being opened - except a keypad next to it. A monitor is 
perched above the entrance, showing images from the hidden camera that watches 
the outside of the building. 
        The lobby branches off into what appears to be a small recreation room; 
for use only by residents and their guests. Much like the rest of the building, 
mirrors are prominent. There is a pool table set up in one half of the room, 
along with a small fridge for storing drinks and a cabinet for snackables. The 
remainder is dominated by a large home theater system, with an incredibly 
expensive-looking couch in front of it. The couch nearly screams out, 'Don't 
spill anything'. For those who might, there are also two matching side-chairs, 
and a bean-bag on the floor - far too close to the television to be good for 
anyone's eyes.

"Hey, it's Dizzy. I've got another new philo here at the safehouse. His name's 
Salem," the cub says into the phone. She pauses a second before answering the 
question on the other end. "He says Rina sent him here."

Salem listens to Dizzy's portion of the conversation with only half an ear; the 
rest of his attention focusses on the televised newscast.

"Okay, I'll see you when you get home, then." She says, concluding the phone 
conversation and hanging up. "He'll be home in about an hour," she informs the 
philodox. "Are you going to need a place to stay? We have a guest-apartment 
where you can stay."

Salem turns away from the television and looks up, giving Dizzy a crooked 
half-smile. "Actually, yes. For the time being, at any rate."

Dizzy nods, "Okay, then." And with that she heads down into the basement for 
the key. She's down there only for a couple of seconds before she comes back 
up. "Okay, here's the key."

Salem accepts the proffered key with a nod, tucking it into a jeans pocket. 
"Good. Refolding his hands together, the Philodox asks, "How long have you 
been in the family, Dizzy? Knowingly, I mean."

Dizzy brushes away her bangs with a hand, "Hmm.. This'll be month number four. 
I first change back in the begining of July."

"Not too traumatic, I hope?" Salem's brows arch slightly; he's obviously 
curious, in a reserved kind of way.

Dizzy shrugs, "Not really. I don't think anything has really been /traumatic./ 
Though, at the time that some things happened, I was pretty scared."

Salem brushes a hand over his bearded chin and nods. "Fear is normal. Even 
healthy... on occasion." A hint of a frown touches the area around his mouth. 
"Are you the only cub?"

Dizzy shakes her head as she stoops down to pick up a piece of pizza. "No. 
Walkerside there's Sophia, who's the only one who's been here longer than me, 
and Corey, who's pretty cool, he's a nice guy. There's Hops, beer-boy, 
Jonathan, who's a punk.

Salem scratches at his chin thoughtfully, his good eye focussed on Dizzy with 
an interest that could easily slide over the border and into uncomfortable 
intensity, if he let it. "Four cubs. Good. And how many for the rest of the 
family?"

"Hmm.. Daisy's the elder, she's a wolf born. John is acting elder right now, 
he's pretty much the go-to guy for anything. If it's tech-related, though, 
then Roger's the man. He's a metis. Cindy's around every now and again, Hops 
was staying over at her place for a while. Francisco, like you, is a newly 
arrived philodox. Lucca is off doing a renunciation thing, she wants to be a 
new moon." Dizzy pauses for a second. "Kinside there's Lianne, who owns this 
place, Rina, who I guess you've met, and Jeremy, who's staying with Roger 
currently. He and I are dating."

Salem's expression changes abruptly after the first name Dizzy lists; he pays 
attention and takes mental note of the others, but only barely; he sits up 
sharply. "Daisy? _Daisy_ is elder?" Seems he knows the name.

"Uh.. yeah," the cub confirms, slightly confused. "You know her?"

The door to the basement opens up and the sound of steps can be heard, 
climbing. Soon, the pale computer nerd can be seen, heading out, hair tousled 
and clothes wrinkled. His face is a mess, in need of a shaving.

Salem looks wry. "I helped train her. I escorted her and another cub on their 
Rite of Passage." He adds a muttered phrase in something that sounds Slavic and 
turns his attention toward the basement door.

[Jeremy]
Here stands a young man just barely past the age of 18. Thin and with a pale 
complexion, it looks as if he didn't get enough sunshine during his years. 
Perhaps the most attractive feature Jeremy really has is the pair of beautiful 
blue eyes that usually seem to shine with a hint of curiousity. To finish off 
the slender frame of his face, he wears a pair of wire rimmed glasses. His hair 
is natural blonde, which has actually been dyed dark black, perhaps the only 
rebellious moment he's ever had in his life before graduation. The cheek length
 bangs are still blonde, giving an off-balance pattern when he combs them back. 
He isn't very athletically built, even though he has the potential to be 'good 
looking' if he gave himself half the chance.
The way he dresses is quite plain. He typically has on a clean pair of blue 
jeans, not too baggy or too loose, but fitted enough to not give him too much 
of a dorky appearance. He tends to stick to plain T-shirts, or casual button 
downs. He wears a pair of ordinary looking shoes from a no name brand. He's 
pretty conservative in his looks, not finding much use for popular trends or 
fads.

"Wow," Dizzy says, picking up the box containing the half eaten pizza. "You 
must have been gone quite some time," she notes, offering the pizza to Jeremy. 
"Want a slice?" she asks the kin boy. "You look like shit, you know."

".. I don't look like Roger at least." Jeremy murmurs as he dismisses the 
pizza, wrapping his arms around her instead. He gives her a hard hug and sighs, 
biting on his lip. His body trembles, voice wavering among each syllable.

"Two years, almost," Salem mutters, continuing to regard Jeremy curiously.

Dizzy drops the box of pizza at the hug. She rubs Jeremy on the back 
soothingly. "You gonna be okay?" she asks, concerned.

"I.. I d-du'know.." Jeremy murmurs as he sucks in a heavy breath, fingers 
tracing along her back slowly as the two embrace. "He.. He.. his lungs.. are 
outside o' him.. an he hurts.. and.. I'm scared he may die."

Salem's brows arch at Jeremy's words, then lower into a frown as he glances 
toward the basement door.

Dizzy hugs the kin boy tight. "He'll be okay. We'll get someone who can do 
magic, like the girl who healed Alicia."

Salem asks quietly, "What happened?"

"Should get Alicia." Jeremy murmurs quietly as he holds her back tightly. Then, 
slowly drawing back, the young kinfolk glances over to Salem and clears his 
throat. He doesn't recognize him, but figures its safe anyways. ".. Roger.. 
um... Galliard to my tribe, the Glass Walkers was hurt at the revel last night. 
From what I've.. read in his stuff, I guess.. um.... a bane hurt him. Ripped 
out his lungs and stuck them to his back instead."

Those not paying attention might miss the hushed tread of Nails as he comes 
down the steps. He seems displeased, and really, who can blame him? There's a 
kind of costume on the lupine form, an old-style sailor suit little old 
misguided ladies dress their lapdogs in.

Salem doesn't quite wince at the description, but it's a close thing. He turns 
it into a grimace. "Nasty," he remarks, in quite obvious understatement.

"Want me to call her?" Dizzy asks the kin boy, fishing out her cellphone 
again.

Jeremy sniffs a bit, shrugging his shoulders. "I dunno, if you want. It 
wouldn't be dishonorable, right?" He asks, swallowing and glancing to the older 
Garou. The wolf in the sailor suit doesn't even rise a smile from him, so 
caught up in worry over his room mate, best friend and distant removed cousin 
of sorts.

Dizzy blinks, "Does the litany apply to this? I though it was for when Garou 
got, you know, old and sick and stuff."

Salem shakes his head at Jeremy's question. "Gaia gives us gifts for a reason. 
Having one's lungs outside one's body is a far cry from getting a papercut." 
He notices Nails then, and does a visible double-take.

[Nails]
This may be a wolf, but he's rather small for one. His coat is a variegated 
set of browns and grays, with a few large black blotches along his back and 
head. The only real distinguishing feature on him are his paws, which are all 
the color of weathered sidewalk.

Nails stops with his haunches still on the bottommost step, staring at the 
unfamiliar person. What have we here? He considers moving to a less visible 
position when he's spotted. Too late. With an embarrassed air, he comes fully 
into the room and checks about. What's going on? Who has insides on outside?

Jeremy bites his lip for a moment and glances to Dizzy, then slowly dips his 
head. ".. Go ahead.. if you want." He says softly before glancing over to the 
sailor suited dog. One brow rises upwards, but he doesn't say anything in 
retort. Not tonight.

Salem gives Nails a dubious, frowning look, then turns to Jeremy. "Salem, by 
the way." A glance toward the costumed Nails includes him as a target of the 
introduction. "Philodox of the Glass Walkers, Cliath rank."

"Roger got hurt bad at the revel," Dizzy explains to her cubmate. "He's down in 
the basement." She looks up at Salem, "This is Corey." And leaves it open for 
Nails to introduce himself.

"Ah'm Jeremy Winters.. kinfolk to the Glass Walkers..." Says the young man as 
he slinks his arms back around Dizzy, finding a bit of comfort.

Nails is glad he missed the revel, in that case. With a defeated expression, 
he adds an introduction. Hits-the-Nail-on-the-Head, no-moon cub of the Walkers. 
And omega cub, apparently.

Dizzy keeps Jeremy in her embrace. "You're not Omega, Nails," she notes to the 
dressed up doggie. "Hops has that position."

"Pleased to meet you, Jeremy," says Salem, and by all evidence, he means it. 
Then his eyes narrow thoughtfully at Nails. "Remind me to ask, later, why 
you're wearing a sailor suit."

Slowly nodding his head, the kin' steps back away from Dizzy as his fingers 
trail along her hands, giving a final squeeze. "I'm going to wash up, take a 
shower.. um.. I'll be back in a few minutes. Excuse me." With that, he starts 
to trudge for the stairs.

Don't ask. Please, just don't ask. Nails did stupid things with other cubs, and 
now pays. Turning to face Dizzy, he considers her a moment before shaking his 
head. Prove it. Have not seen Hops get what he deserves, and feel it.

The older cub leans forward to give Jeremy a kiss on the cheek before he 
leaves. "Okay. Take your time and relax." She lets him go and turns to face the
younger cub. "He's been getting himself into a lot of trouble recently."

Salem regards Nails with a thoughtful expression, his good eye narrowed, lips 
thinned with something that almost approaches sympathy, but is a little too 
reserved to get there.

Nails snorts derisively. Hops gets into trouble lots, but does he learn? No. 
Hops disobeys elders lots, but does he feel the punishment? No.

An electronic 'ring' emits from the long coat folded across the back of the 
couch. Salem frowns, then reaches into a pocket of the garment to retrieve a 
cellphone. "Excuse me for a moment, will you?"

Dizzy shrugs, "I dunno what they plan to do with him. Last time I tried to 
guess their thoughts the two of us ended up bleeding all over the woods."

[Log break while Salem answers his cellphone.]

Salem returns, deactivated cellphone in hand, his face a mask of neutral calm 
even though his body language betrays an underlying tension. He lifts a brow at 
Nails. "Language problems?"

Dizzy says "It depends, we could take it from him before hand, from his wallet 
while he's sleeping or something. Sometimes you can just tell the cops you 
don't have your I.D. on you and how're they going to check?" She thinks about 
this for a second before adding. "Actually, they might, depending on how bad it 
is. That, and he's a guy, more likely to be checked."

Nails, unable to form the analogy in his head into words, merely nods at Salem. 
I still don't quite understand how to describe all Weaver-things in this shape. 
To Dizzy he adds, we grab his wallet or stage a mugging somewhere, then find a 
way to put him in a twoleg cage? Maybe combine the two?

Dizzy looks aside at Salem warily. "You sure you want to talk about this right 
now, Nails?"

"She's quite right," says Salem, dryly. "A plot should never have witnesses." 
Returning the cellphone to his coat, the Philodox settles himself down onto the 
couch again.

Nails gives Salem an ear-wiggling grin. Meet Hops yet? Two days and you'll want 
to not only witness, but be in on any plans to put him in pain. Nails drops the 
subject abruptly with a gaping yawn. So, any other news?

The kin heads back down stairs after a much needed, long shower. He's wearing a 
pair of Dizzy's sweats, the clothing looking a bit baggy over his thin and 
frail form. Clearing his throat, he heads back to the group, rubbing the back 
of his neck, wet hair plastered back.

"Moot was okay," Dizzy says, finishing her pizza slice. "Lots of interesting 
stuff goes on there." She looks up at the kin's re-entrance, "Feeling better?"

Salem gives Nails a brief flash of wolfish grin, then glances backwards toward 
the arriving Kinfolk.

"Yah, I feel better." Jeremy softly says as he leans over to place a soft kiss 
to Diz's cheek. "Just.. hard to get the image out of my head ya'know. I've seen 
a lot in the past twelve years as a kin.. But that.. ranks up there in the 
weird and gross department."

Dizzy gets up from the couch, "Wanna go out. Dancing or something? Take your 
mind off of all of this?"

Nails will try to make the next Moot, unless someone decides he needs 
punishment again. For now, Nails gets back up and checks around the room, 
looking for someplace hidden to nap.

Salem, looking away from Dizzy and the kin, glances over at Nails. "Corey, is 
it? Do you mind if I impart a word of advice?"

Nails glances back at Salem, and chuffs. As if I could stop you.

Jeremy shrugs his shoulders a bit as he squeezes the girl in his arms. "I 
dunno, you know I can't dance and my legs are sore from kick boxing anyways."

"How 'bout just going out for a drink, then?" Dizzy suggests.

Salem's smile has a sardonic edge. "And it'd be rather useless for me to give 
you advice that you didn't want to have," he tells the cub in utterly 
reasonable tones.

Jeremy nods his head and smiles. "That'd be fine, I can go for a milkshake or 
something." He glances over to the two and clears his throat. "Good night 
Salem, it was nice to have met you." Heading over to a backpack near the front 
door, he opens it up and takes out a small plastic card. Handing it to the 
cliath, he murmurs. "You can get ahold of me here.. Cell, pager, email, voice 
mail, carrier pigeon.. the works. I'm always free to drop whatever and help 
out."

Nails makes a bowing motion in Salem's direction. Advise me, half-moon-rhya. My 
ears are open, my mouth is shut.

Dizzy grabs her hat and glasses and heads for the door. "Ready?" she asks Jeremy.

Salem turns away from Nails long enough to stand and accept the card from 
Jeremy, his manner as unfailingly polite as earlier. "I'll keep that in mind. 
It was a pleasure meeting you as well." The card vanishes into his wallet.

Jeremy nods and heads after Dizzy, looping his arm with hers. "I'm ready. Lets 
go."

Dizzy heads out the door with Jeremy. Fishing her car keys out of her pocket.

Returning his attention to Nails, Salem folds his arms across his chest. 
"Humiliation's a bitch. But the more you slink and hide, the more attention 
gets drawn to you."

Nails gives the canine equivalent of a shrug as he relaxes the bow, flopping 
onto the floor. Who's slinking? I'm trying not to be a bump in the middle of 
the floor to get stepped on or tripped over while I sleep. Also, find a good 
vantage point and you never know what you can overhear.

The front door opens with a click, to admit a girl in black leather; Rina's 
hair is mussed and windblown.

"Good point," says Salem. "But I was speaking about earlier, when you entered 
the room." His attention flicks sharply toward the door, and he gives Rina a 
crooked grin. "Good evening."

Nails looks puzzled. I am a ragabash... and I am not allowed to practice 
stealth, or to observe, hopefully before I enter a situation?

Rina flashes a warm smile to him, remarkably brilliant. "Jack. Hey... w'sup?" 
She glances to the lupine form, curiously, and then looks back to him. 
"Interesting conversation?"

Salem arches a brow at Nails. "And your practice had nothing to do with that, 
hm, _thing_ you're being made to wear?" His tone's dubious.

Rina has been trying not to smile; she says nothing, though, looking curiously 
to Nails.

Nails growls low in his throat, but it's not directed at Salem. You make the 
simple answers misleading. To say it did not isn't the truth, regardless, and 
to say it did is to be interpreted as the _thing_ being the only reason, and a 
direct one. So do I lie, and be caught a liar, or do I tell the truth, and be 
thought a liar?

Salem's expression, not to mention his voice, cools considerably with his next 
reply. "I'm a half-moon, Corey. I can discern the truth."

Rina's brow furrows. "You're a--" She bites her lip, stepping back and taking 
a spot on the wall, leaning against it by the door.

Salem cuts a one-eyed glance toward Rina, a touch of hesitation in his face. 
"I Renounced. This past April."

Rina swallows. Her expression remains shadowed, concerned perhaps. "Oh," she 
says quietly. There's something guarded in her eyes. "That's,,, that's cool. We 
really need a good judge."

Salem's lips thin. With a lightness in his voice that's not echoed in either 
his expression or his body language, he says, "Well. Whether you've got one 
remains to be seen."

Nails shall answer fully then, for you and him. Were the clothes involved in 
his decision? Yes. They bind him in this form, which he /does/ need practice 
using, and it has been said he lacks subtlety in general. If practice for 
practice's sake isn't enough of a reason, shouldn't practice for the sake of 
not embarrassing himself be good? Should he NOT get on with his life, such as 
it is like this?

A shadow passes through Rina's eyes, and confusion touches her expression. She 
seems about to say something when the dog-wolf's movements distract her; 
embarassed, she glances away and rubs at the back of her neck with a hand. 
"Maybe we oughta talk, when you're... through with whatever," she mutters.

Salem nods once to Rina and then directs his attention back to the cub. "Good 
answer," he says, and then smiles, rather distractedly. "And thank you."

Nails pauses, mentally set back on his heels by this response. Thanks? Shaking 
his head in bewilderment, he gets up and starts heading for the stairs. Thanks. 
Thanks? Thanks. Huh?

Salem gets a wry look at the cub's confusion and leans back against the couch, 
one hand coming up to rub at the scarred flesh around his blind left eye.

Rina watches the cub go, frowning slightly in thought. Then she looks over at 
Salem and straightens, studying the man with a sober expression, her eyes 
narrowed in thought. "I hope you'll think about stayin'," she says quietly. 
"D'you... wanna talk about it?"

Salem glances up at Rina; the mask has settled back onto his face. "Why I 
Renounced, you mean? ...No. Not yet."

Nails sends one last confused look at Salem before he heads up the stairs. And 
I didn't even catch his wolf-name...

Rina shakes her head, shifting to lean one hip against the rec room doorway. 
"No... not that. Why you don't wanna stay. We could use the--"

Abruptly the girl looks over her shoulder, as a clicking sound announces the 
electronic unlocking of the front door.

Salem's eyes narrow for a moment. Then he makes an 'ah' sound of comprehension. 
"Oh, I see. No, I _am_ staying. Sorry if I wasn't clear."

John steps in, with his head down, distracted by a book in his hand, as he 
closes the door again. He watches Nails disappear upstairs, and then sees Rina. 
A ghost of a smile flits over his expression as he sees her, and then starts to 
move towards her. A curious look at the unknown voice.

[John]
        This imposing individual manages to convey an air of latent violence, 
(even when apparently relaxing), and he moves with the athletic grace of a 
natural predator. This, combined with his appearance, scream 'Danger' to most 
normal people, and should inspire caution even in those more hardy.

        His tall (6'4") and well-built frame is clothed almost entirely in 
black. A light, weathered trenchcoat, comfortably-sized jeans and a 
tight-fitting t-shirt covered by a long, heavy jacket. The only splashes of 
colour come from signs of a chain around his neck, a silver belt-buckle in the 
form of a wolf's-head, and the occasional buckle or button on his boots, pants 
or jacket in silver-coloured steel. Finally, both hands are gloved, though the 
glove on his left hand has been carefully tailored to leave all but his little 
finger bare. This finger doesn't separate from his fourth. Ever.

        The initial impression is usually enough to ward against a closer 
inspection of his face, but those curious enough observe the face of a young 
man made old by scars, besides a certain something about the eyes and set of 
the jaw. The angles and tone of his face hint at northern European descent. 
His face is framed up top by black, close-cropped hair, and his eyes shine out 
from this visage in a brilliant, icy, blue. This man could be considered highly 
attractive if it weren't for the numerous scars on his face. A large, savage 
claw mark mars his right cheek, and a deadly pale white line emerges from under 
his hair, reaching down towards the right eyebrow. There's occasionally a 
break in the grimness as he nervously touches a silver band on the fourth 
finger of his right hand.

Nails walks up the stairs, to the second story of the building.

Rina lets out a relieved breath, looking back to Salem as a smile dawns again. 
"Oh. Good," she says simply. Then she takes several steps to meet John, taking 
one of his hands and drawing him back toward the rec room. "Somebody you need 
to meet," she explains.

Salem rises from the couch as John enters, his head tilting slightly as he 
studies the other man, thumbs hooked into the front pockets of his jeans, his 
manner polite, but subtly wary; he seems to be sizing the other man up, though 
whatever judgement he finds is kept locked away from view.

Rina catches her lower lip between her teeth for a moment, as she steps back 
from the two of them. Her eyes are bright. "John. This's Jack Salem, Walker I 
know from way back. Jack, this is John Smith, acting Don. You guys can do the 
resta the shit."

John looks the new arrival over, critically. "Good. Not as tall as the last 
guy, but he's got the uniform right." he notes, deadpan. He looks to Rina, for 
a moment, almost questioningly, but then turns his head back to give Salem a 
nod. "Ahroun. Cliath. Temporary Elder." The way he carries himself, and the 
tone of his voice suggest that John's not planning on the 'temporary' part 
being relevant for much longer. "What brings you... back here?"

Salem studies John for a few more heartbeats, and then drops his gaze with a 
polite tilt of his head that briefly displays a show of throat. "Salem," the 
new arrival says, with smooth civility. "Philodox. Also Cliath." He pauses a 
moment before answering the other's question. "St. Claire is home. I decided 
I'd been gone long enough."

Rina lets out another breath, and relaxes against the doorframe; something in 
her betrays a flicker of pride, and perhaps some relief.

John tilts his head a little, taking in the gesture of submission with a little 
curiosity. "S'fair. Never heard much about you. That's going to have to change. 
From where I stand... looks like we'll be glad to have you back." He takes a 
step forward to offer a gloved hand.

Salem smiles thinly and takes the proffered hand, shaking it with a good strong 
grip. "Thank you. I admit that I'm rather relieved that someone other than a 
lupus that I'd cub-trained has taken the reins of leadership." This remark is 
made with a definite touch of dry humor. Releasing John's hand, Salem adds, 
"Dizzy mentioned there was a guest apartment here at the safehouse."

John raises an eyebrow, looking Salem over again. Surprise fades quickly, into 
a second, more careful measurement. "Daisy? Still Elder. I haven't Challenged, 
yet. Not a full Sept member." He looks back to Rina, a silent communication in 
the narrowing of his eyes.

"Planning to take, then," Salem corrects. He watches the interplay between the 
couple with a neutral expression.

Rina nods to him, dark eyes meeting John's and staying for a moment. "There 
someplace we can put Jack up?" she asks.

John nods at Salem, and points one finger upwards. "Yeah. I'll get you a key." 
He slips his hands into his pockets moving towards Rina. "Get you settled in, 
then you're going to tell me about yourself. Why you left. And such."

Salem pulls a key out of his pocket. "Dizzy already did," he notes, and then 
nods. "Understood. If you'll excuse me, I'll collect my things from the hotel."

Rina raises an eyebrow, and then gives Salem a quick smile. "See you tomorrow, 
maybe," she offers. "We should all have a sitdown."

Salem flashes Rina a smile as he collects his coat -- the expression is 
friendly, nothing more. "I look forward to it."

John inclines his head towards Rina, making room for Salem to move past, and 
out. "Us, too. Sooner." He gives Salem a nod, as the new Walker makes his way 
out.

Salem dips his head to them both and then departs.