It is currently 20:36 Pacific Time on Mon Nov 26 2001.

Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous Moon phase (75% full).

Currently in Saint Claire, it is raining lightly. The temperature is 39
degrees Fahrenheit (3 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in
from the south at 6 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.37 and
rising, and the relative humidity is 96 percent. The dewpoint is 38
degrees Fahrenheit (3 degrees Celsius.)

Walker Safe House - Lobby

        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.

Salem steps briskly into the safehouse, pocketing his keys and tugging off
his gloves with crisp, businesslike little motions.

After the twenty or thirty seconds it takes to step inside and complete
those actions, the door opens again, admitting the form of John. The
Walker Ahroun leaves his own gloves and simply pauses in the doorway,
closing it quietly. "Evening."

Salem glances up, gloves in hand. He arches a brow slightly, then nods
once and slips them into a coat pocket. "Getting bitter out there," he
remarks.

John dusts off a few raindrops from his shoulders, not taking his eyes off
Salem. The eyebrows merely arch slightly. "Hadn't noticed." He continues
to watch the Philodox critically.

Salem's posture stiffens subtly at the continued regard, though his face
reveals nothing. He meets the Ahroun's gaze for a few long moments, then
shifts his attention away and shrugs out of his coat. "Been keeping busy?"

John's head tilts a little. "Had some-- thing to take care of, out of
town." Only the barest stumble over the word. "Kaz been keeping you busy?"

Salem purses his lips. "Kaz's request was remarkably simple. Owen..." He
shakes his head slightly, grimacing faintly. "The damned Get holds a
grudge that would make a Wendigo blush. But I've finished what _he_
wanted, as well." The Philodox shakes out his coat, then drapes it over
one arm. Turning back to John, he adds, "I'm waiting, now, on Adam's
convenience."

John frowns slightly, lifting a hand to scratch absently at an unshaven
cheek. "I see. Had... thoughts on something we could do for Owen, maybe,
sometime. Know anything about that inheritence you apparently caused him
to lose?"

Salem's expression hardens. "No," he says, curtly. His tone suggests he
might add something more, but doesn't.

The Ahroun's had time to straighten, now-- shifting subtly from a slightly
wary position to something more commanding, he seems to fill the doorway,
almost. John's head tilts the other way, and his eyes state very clearly,
'go on...'

Salem relents after a moment or two, folding his arms across his chest.
"Owen made noises about seeing me again after the Ostracism is over.
Frankly, if he wants to ask for help having his inheritence restored, I'm
more than willing to listen. He seems to think that I will _owe_ him this
favor, and frankly, if that is what he wanted, he should have asked for
it, rather than for a fucking wolf den to mope in." Salem's voice is
sharp, his tone cutting.

John's features settle into something a little harder and colder. One
eyebrow lowers sardonically. "If that's what he wants, you'll state that
point, I'll back you up, and that'll be the end of it." he grunts. "If you
have time before the Rite is performed, find out from him what it is he
wants. I have no time for manipulation or duplicity."

Salem grunts. "If he's in his territory, that will be difficult. He's also
made it quite clear that I'm not welcome there." A flash of bitterness
passes across his face. "Fucking Get."

John wrinkles his nose. "Wolves howl at the edges of each other's
territory. There are ways to overcome that sort of obtuseness, and we are
obliged to comply. Anything else simply points out how anal one is, and a
Philodox only needs to bitch at a Galliard about it for everyone to know
what an asshole someone can be." An Ahroun's solution. The large moon
doesn't seem to be affecting John much, and he starts towards the rec
room. "Ostracism is soon, then."

Salem exhales a breath. "Next week, perhaps."

John nods a few times, pausing in the doorway of the rec room. He leans
against it, thoughtfully, folding his arms. "Two months isn't so long." he
murmurs, mildly, brow furrowing.

Salem frees a hand and runs the fingers back through his hair. It's still
early, but the Philodox looks tired. Tired and edgy. "Not as long as two
years, no," he replies, flatly.

John accepts that with a faint half-nod. "Kin'll keep you up to speed. It
won't be so bad... could've been much worse."

Salem's mouth thins slightly. "Yes... yes, I know."

Something appears to be on the Ahroun's mind. He's no longer looking at
Salem. "You could've gotten away with not doing anything..." He leaves the
sentence hanging-- open-ended.

Salem looks sharply at the Ahroun, his eyes narrowed; when he does this,
the dead eye squints almost shut. "What are you suggesting?"

John looks up. His own eyes are narrowed slightly, but are otherwise
empty. Emotionless. "You own up to every veil-breach or litany-violation
for punishment, then?"

Salem studies John for a long moment, posture stiff and expression stony.
"Only when necessary."

John inclines his head, closing his eyes briefly in mild acknowledgement
and agreement. "What constitutes necessity?"

"Usually, when it's clear it hasn't been forgotten." Salem smiles thinly
for a moment, then shakes his head. "It closes a chapter. Two months, and
my slate is clear." Pause. "Whatever Owen thinks."

Eyes on something in space, John smiles a little. "Good feeling?"

Salem considers, head tilted, then nods. "In a way."

The smile disappears. "Thought it might be." John straightens and now
heads into the rec room proper, bending slightly to seize upon a bottle of
whiskey and a glass. "Took balls. Glad you did."

Salem takes a few steps toward the rec room, and now it's his turn to lean
in the doorway. "Thank you."

Gruffly, and with a grudging note of almost-affection, the Ahroun keeps
his eyes on pouring himself a drink and rumbles, "I prefer to have you
around, actually. This means you won't have suffered something a little
more dire."

Salem nods at John's back. "Indeed." He straightens up. "I'll inform you
when Adam sets a date for the ritual."

John nods a few times, slowly, and takes a sip. "Good. We'll get the
family together. Have a little goodbye or something." he grunts, shortly.

"Excellent," Salem replies, mildly. "Enjoy your evening."