It is currently 19:22 Pacific Time on Wed Oct 10 2001.
Currently the moon is in the waning Half Moon phase (44% full).

[Lianne]
Standing at 5'2, Lianne is a woman of small stature. Her face is unremarkable, 
  pale and with the slightest hint of Asian ancestry. Her shoulder length 
  black hair is tied back in a bun, keeping it out of the way. The woman's age 
  (early to mid 40's) shows in her face, faint frown lines creasing her brow 
  and crows feet next to her eyes. Her clothes are those of a wealthy woman, 
  designer by the look of them and resemble a dark blue business suit more 
  then anything else.
A dark wooden cane with a silver handgrip and base, is held in Lianne's left 
  hand. She uses this cane to steady herself when she walks, as she suffers 
  from a slight limp. Despite the limp and cane, Lianne's hazel eyes reflect a 
  bone deep stubbornness and her posture is that of one who is used to getting 
  their own way.

Lianne lets herself into the Safe House, closing the door behind her and 
  scanning the Lobby.

Salem is on his way down the stairs as Lianne enters. He pauses at the bottom 
  step, one dark brown eye regarding the arrival neutrally. "Good evening."

From a distance, Soft, classical music plays in the rec room. John's laid back 
  in one of the armchairs, with his eyes closed and a glass of whiskey and ice 
  in one hand. The other hand rubs gently against his temples.

Lianne looks up at Salem, taking in the man's somewhat disturbing scars and 
  facial disfigurements. "Evening," She replies, expression bland. Almost as 
  if Salem was just a regular joe, not creepy looking in the least. "And you 
  would be?"

Salem's smile is polite enough, if somewhat reserved. "Jack Salem."

From a distance, John's eyes open, at the voices. A moment's recognition, and 
  he closes them again.

Lianne nods. "John mentioned you, and that you had returned. You must have 
  taken leave before I arrived. The Tribe was in poor shape, so any history 
  lessions I recived were patchy at best." The kinswoman bows slightly from 
  the waist. "My name is Lianne FitzGerald, Glass Walker Kinfolk. I hope that 
  you have found the rooms in this building suitable."

At that, Salem's expression warms considerably. "More than suitable, Ms. 
  FitzGerald. And, yes, I left the city almost two years ago."

Lianne nods, attention briefly distracted by the music in the other room. "I'm 
  afraid that I was not informed of your auspice, or Rank?"

"Ah, of course. My apologies." Salem shows no stray thread of interest toward 
  the rec room at the moment; his attention remains focussed on the Kinfolk. 
  He clasps his hands behind his back. "Philodox, Cliath rank."

Lianne says "And what has brought you back?"

Salem _does_ glance toward the rec room now, though for barely more than a 
  second. "To be truthful, I hadn't intended to be gone for as long as I was. 
  Events conspired to keep me away."

From a distance, John's mouth is touched by the ghost of a wry smile, at the 
  conversation, but he remains silent, sipping occasionally from his glass.

Lianne shrugs. "Such is fate and circumstance." After inclining her head 
  toward Salem, the kinswoman makes her way into the rec room.

After a moment, Salem follows, hands still clasped behind his back.

Rec Room
        Much like the rest of the building, mirrors are prominent in the 
  Recreation Room. 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. A small 
  bar provides limited seating and more intoxicating drinks, if one has the 
  key that allows access to the refridgerated drinks cabinet under the bar. 
  The remainder of the room 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.

John murmurs, "Evening, Lianne. Jack." His eyes open, revealing a touch of 
  amusement, and he straightens somewhat in his chair, sipping at the drink 
  again.

Lianne says "Evening John. Cubs providing more headachs?""

Salem meets John's eyes for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitching in a 
  wry kind of way as he takes a seat at one end of the couch.

John shakes his head mildly, as he looks away from Salem, in the manner that 
  one might indicate disgust in a juvenile prank, while still being darkly 
  amused. Lianne's question - upon consideration - sends his expression 
  slightly sour. "Gaia, I hope not." he mutters. "Jon's out at the Theurge 
  moot, now. He might come back minus a few limbs, if he's not lucky. There's 
  no Walkers out there with him."

Lianne ohs. "I thought you expressed and intrest and keeping an eye on that 
  cub, while he attended the Theurge moot."

Salem frowns minutely. "Do we have no other Theurges? I remember Daisy being 
  one."

Lianne shrugs, faint disaproval showing on her face. "While the lupus claims 
  eldership, she can be difficult to locate."

John inclines his head. "Yes, but I am not a Theurge, and frankly, don't mind 
  if the cub earns a few scrapes. I've been assured that crippling or killing 
  him is out of the question." He looks to Salem. "And Daisy is both Elder and 
  Theurge, but not here, and thus no use in either respect. She's attending 
  meetings in Seattle, but is useless with a phone."

Salem's lips thin. "I see," he says, in a tone of voice that suggests he'd 
  hoped for better from his former pupil.

"It is my opinion, personally," Lianne states. "That a lupus is a poor choice 
  for our Tribe, when it comes to eldership. They have difficulty 
  understanding the human elements that we deal with daily."

John hitches a shoulder, and sips some more at his drink. "But she /does/ have 
  a strong tribal fervor, and has taught the cubs a lot." he notes, mildly. 
  And adds, with a look to Lianne, "But yeah. I /am/ challenging her, the 
  minute she gets back."

Salem seems about to add something, and then pauses with the look of a man 
  who's abruptly remembered something important. Getting up, he turns briefly 
  to Lianne and offers her a slight bow. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. 
  FitzGerald. Excuse me for a moment." The latter comment includes John in 
  this as well, but the Philodox doesn't wait for an acknowledgment.