It is currently 19:40 Pacific Time on Mon May 6 2002. Currently in Saint Claire, it is raining lightly. The temperature is 45 degrees Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the west at 9 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.15 and steady, and the relative humidity is 68 percent. The dewpoint is 35 degrees Fahrenheit (1 degrees Celsius.) Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent Moon phase (35% full). [Safehouse 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. The door bell rings a few times. John gives a short grunt, getting up to get the door himself; interrupting the Packmates' conversation. He checks the screen, giving a soft 'hm' before opening the door. "C'mon in," he rumbles, leaving the door open and moving away from it. "S'Alicia," he adds, calling in to the rec room. Salem arches a brow, then gets up from his chair and moves toward the doorway between the rec room and the hallway. There he folds his arms across his chest and leans against the wall. Heading inside, Alicia closes the door behind her, then lumbers into the rec room to the two. "Hey guys." She says, running a hand back through her hair. "Anything good on the tube?" Salem's gaze follows the Gaian through into the rec room. He glances briefly at John, then directs a wry look toward Alicia. "The usual. Child-molesters, natural disasters, and bitter fighting in the Mideast. Nothing particularly new." John gives Salem a faint nod, indicating that It's OK. He stalks back into the room, moving over to the armchair with a glass of whiskey on the floor next to it. "How's things? And what brings you here?" John. Ever tactful. "Bored. Franky told me that ya'll got the pack thing up and running. Thats pretty dope. I gave him a wicked Tat' of Cockroach the other night." Alicia leans against the doorframe a bit. "Congratulations." Salem unfolds his arms and pushes away from the wall, making for the other armchair. The Philodox sinks into it gracefully and leans back, elbows resting on the arms and fingers laced together. "Thank you." John inclines his head in acceptance, also murmuring, "Thanks. We're looking forward to getting to work, soon, but the Rite of Totem was a good unifier." He reaches down to find his glass. "Staying long? Have a drink. Take a seat." "Thanks.. " Alicia says as she settles down upon a chair, legs crossing over as she leans forward a bit, peering at the two Walkers. "I also came to inquire about something.." She reflects for a second, then says. "Pathfinders have broken up and well.. I was looking for a family..again. Mostly because Elan inspired me to not give up." She lifts her gaze, leveling them at the two Walkers. "And I was wondering, if I had a chance in hell of becoming apart of yours, even though I'm not of your tribe." Salem's brows lift. His good eye shifts from Alicia to John, letting the pack's alpha answer. John pauses, with his glass almost at his lips. Looking at Salem for a few moments, he continues the movement, sipping at the whiskey, and lowering it to regard Alicia thoughtfully. "Well," he says, mildly. A little taken aback. "And I hope you don't tell me that I'm a frail lil tree hugger who may get hurt if I run with you guys." Alicia says, cracking a grin, arms crossing over her chest. "We follow Cockroach," says Salem, fixing his eye back on the Gaian. "Do you understand what this means? Fully?" John snorts in amusement at her comment. "Hardly. I just-- ...hmm." He looks to Salem again, as if seeking some indicator of the half-moon's thoughts, listening to the question and then watching Alicia for a response. "Well, I have yet to pack under him, and my knowledge of your tribal totem is limited. But, from what I recall from my many days of camping out with Andrea and Laura, I take it that the roach tends to keep secrets and is a child of the weaver. I'm not completely educated upon him though. I'd like to know the rest, obviously." Alicia says, always willing to learn as much as one can cram into her head. Salem is keeping his cards close to his chest; the Philodox has a damn good poker face. Still, he doesn't seem adverse to the idea. "Hm." He glances at John again. John's frowning slightly. "I know you got what it takes. And that you're a good Garou." His mouth twists wryly. "And if you took orders, you'd be an even better one." He looks to Salem, again. "We... need to talk about this some, though. Ask the pack. I... don't think they'll have a problem." He glances at Alicia, suddenly watching her keenly. "Why do you want to join us?" Emphasising the 'us'. "Because, I know you, Roger, Salem, Franky. You are all about buisness. You all aren't going to stuff your ass into hiding the second the pack is created. You guys wanna get shit done. I know you pretty good John, if not personally then word of mouth. Pathfinders sat around and listened to me bitch about doing our jobs. I want to be usefull. I want to be a damn Garou, and its hard as hell to do that without a pack that gives a damn." Alicia dips her head at her words. "And I can take orders just fine." She adds. "Without arguing?" John adds, with a faint suggestion of a smile. One corner of Salem's mouth quirks upwards. Grinning, Alicia counters back. "Long as its not something stupid like.. 'Hey Alicia, go take on those four spiral dancers by yer'self while I watch the rest of Jerry Springer." John tilts his head. "How do you feel about being told to hang back a moment while I waltz with those dancers on my own?" Still studying her eyes keenly. Alicia rolls her shoulders a bit some, then says. "As a treehumping Coggie, its my duty to heal yer' stupid Full Moon ass up if you decide to rush in there by yourself. If you tell me No.. then.. well... ergh.." She bites her lip in thought. "Lets just hope that it never comes down to that, and its not four against one, ey'?" "'The leader may not be challenged at any time during war,'" Salem quotes. He cocks a brow at Alicia. "That's *particularly* the case in a battle situation." Alicia grunts under her breath, then dips her head. "I know. Its why I said I'd heal him. Ya'know, after the smoke clears and all that good shit." Rolling her shoulders back a bit, she also says. "I understand the rules of the litany and all." John inclines his head. "Every second I spend arguing with a packmate, is a second I spend with my mind off the job. A second I spend defenceless. And seconds count. Big time. I'm not in any hurry to commit suicide. I've got too much to lose, these days. And I'll die before I put my people someplace I can't get 'em out of. In return, I know they'll never let me down if they can help it. Everyone's parts are there. That's what you've gotta trust in, if you're gonna run with us. That whoever's in charge is thinking about these things, and how best to use every member. We're not about heroics. We're not about making names for ourselves. We're about efficiency." "I can tell. Probably the biggest reason why I want to run with you guys. Because yer' efficient. I'd be proud to run with a buncha people who know what the hell they are doing." Alicia lets her shoulders fall back a bit. "But, you won't get an argument outta me. Yer' th'big dog, ya'd'be calling th'shots, definitly." Shifting her gaze back and forth between them, she reaches up a hand to pull away few strands of red and brown hair from her face. Salem's cellphone, hooked into a pocket of his jeans, goes off in a series of quiet, no-nonsense little beeps. He frowns and gets up, taking it out. "Excuse me," he says, and steps out to take the call.