It is currently 10:26 Pacific Time on Wed May 22 2002. Gibbous moon. Walker safehouse, Rec Room. Salem is seated cross-legged in front of the couch, methodically dismantling and cleaning a long-barrelled bolt-action rifle. CNN's on the television. With all the traffic in and out of the Safe House, it wasn't particulalry hard for Renee to find someone to let her in. Inside, the young Gnawer makes her way into the rec room and that cabinet full of snakes. Fishing out a bag of chips, she carries it over to the couch and flops down onto the floor next to it. "Hi," she rumbles. Renee stands at a height of 5'2 inches and has a little more growing to do, until she reaches her full height. While the 14 year old isn't particularly tall to start with, she often appears shorter, walking around with shoulders hunched and hands stuffed into her pockets. The girl's medium-length brown hair is tied back in a loose braid, which she tugs on occasionally. Renee's eyes are a deep chocolate brown, framed by olive skin and a rounded face. The Galliard's frame is thin and her ribs are visible under the clothing she wears. Renee's clothes consist of a pair of baggy jeans that are a couple of sizes too big and a forest greet t-shirt. The girl is grubby and has a very faint odour about her, as if she hasn't bathed in a couple of weeks. Salem spares the young Bone Gnawer a brief, distracted glance, lips compressing as she sits down near him. His "Good morning" is polite enough, though. He turns his attention back to the rifle. "Sleep well?" Renee shrugs, opening the bag of chips and munching on a few. "Good enough. Some people went to scout the edge of the bawn a little while ago, do ya know how that went?" "Yes," Salem replies, carefully wiping gun oil off the barrel. "I was there." "And?" The young Galliard prompts, before stuffing soem more chips into her mouth. "How'd it go?" The last words are mumbled around the greasy snack food. Salem grimaces, though whether at the Gnawer's eating habits or at memory of the outing isn't clear. "Nobody died on our side. I believe we managed to kill one or two. But there was no real information gained and we weren't able to take a hostage." He gives the weapon a final wipe, and then begins reassembling it. Renee grunts, licking the grease from her fingers. "Atleast we don't have any new dead ta deal with." Tilting her head to one side, the young Gnawer looks up at Salem. "Moon eating at ya? Its gettin' kinda big." "How terribly observant of you, Renee," the Walker replies, sardonically. "And what have _you_ been up to?" Renee scowls, voice taking on an irritated tone. "Well excuse me for tryin' to be friendly!" She half-growls, briefly looking away. "Gettin' lectured, mostly bout' bein' too pissy and scarin' the other cubs." Salem finishes putting the rifle back together. With swift, practiced motions, he pulls back the bolt and brings the weapon up to bear, pointing it away from the Gnawer, and pulls the trigger. Click. "Are you _trying_ to scare them?" he asks, bringing the weapon down and turning to look at her. Renee crosses her arms, then shakes her head in mute denial. "I know on of'em is a bit scared of me, cause I killed some people and it doesn't bother me. She thinks I should and that humans are special and should be killed,, or some shit." Salem plants the butt of the rifle on the floor and, with one hand curled around the foregrip, fingers braced around the trigger guard, he regards the Bone Gnawer with a sharp, cold, critical eye. "You killed some people," he says, flatly. "And it doesn't bother you." Renee shrugs and looks up at the Walker. "Why should it? Bunch of assholes and they would have done the same to me, if I'd let them." "Violent, were they?" Salem's tone is _definitely_ sardonic now. Drippingly so. "Dangerous to you, were they? Ten fomori with mouths that could swallow cows and dripping ichor? Five Spiral Dancers lusting to drag you off to the Labyrinth?" "Fuck off," Renee snaps. "It was a gang of humans. I think there were ten or twelve of'em, chains, bats, couple of guns, that kinda crap. "Though it would be fun ta pick on a small group of girls and rape'em. What was I fucking supposed to do, let them? And no, I didn't go crinos on'em and tear them apart. I'm not an idiot and I'm not about to break the Veil. I stayed like this." Salem's upper lip peels back, displaying his teeth in lupine threat. "Next time, find a non-lethal solution. You are not God, you are not Justice, and you are not the fucking Punisher." He leans the rifle against the couch and gathers up his cleaning implements before pushing to his feet. Renee's hackles would lift if she was in a furier form, but she merely looks away in this one. Signaling submission. "Never figured I was. Just wanted them to leave me the fuck alone," she rumbles, softly. "An' I only nailed two of'em. Alicia shot a buncha them and I know that 'Neka killed atleast one of'em. I think the other one just had a broken arm. An' its not like you were trying to /not/ kill that asshole who was robbin' that store awhile back," the cubs adds, almost defiantly. Salem slings the rifle and turns a scowl on the cub. "I _was_ trying to not kill him," he retorts. "And before you ask, _yes_, it does bother me that he died." His right hand is curled around the rifle strap; he juts a finger out from it to point at the girl. "I suggest you do a little more thinking." He turns to go, then looks back to add, "And make sure you clean up those damned chips before you leave." And then he's heading for the lobby and the stairs up. Renee frowns, but keeps her eyes submissivly focused on the floor infront of her. Only looking up again, after Salem has left the room.