It is currently 22:52 Pacific Time on Tue Feb 25 2003.

Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent Moon phase (36% full).

Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 32 degrees Fahrenheit (0 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 29.87 and steady, and the relative humidity is 69 percent. The dewpoint is 23 degrees Fahrenheit (-5 degrees Celsius.)

Harbor Park

For once, she isn't strolling the waterfront. Instead, she sits half-wrapped in her leather armor on one of the slanting cement scraps by the river. Her legs aren't quite covered by the ripped fishnet, and she leans back on both arms, her head tipped back, the jacket falling to her sides. The posture is almost provocative--considering the dress beneath, a rain-soaked slip of a thing in a snakeskin print.

Salem's approach is silent, but the wind shifts as he gets near and the bitter scent of cigarette smoke gives him away. "Aren't you cold?" the Garou asks, his voice low and dry. He steps up beside her, facing the river with his good side toward her. His hair's loose and somewhat unkempt, and a half-smoked cigarette -- the usual handrolled, filterless, plain white cancer stick -- dangles from the side of his mouth.

Rina rolls her head back to look over to him, her eyes half-lidded and slightly narrowed. "I'm good," she murmurs, laziness in her voice.

Salem eyes the woman critically, his expression skeptical. "Mm." Then he shrugs and takes a drag from the cigarette. "Not bothering you, am I?"

Rina's smile deepens, as she glances over to him. "Never." It doesn't seem to matter that the evening rains have left her cold and soaked. Nothing dampens that vague, languid smile.

The Philodox looks all the more dubious and shakes his head slightly. "Been having some fun tonight?"

Adrian walks up, free from the Farm finally and exploring the city, never truly having appreciated it until he was denied it so long. He sees some familiar faces and approaches, giving them distance but making his presence known.

Rina might be anyone, lounging on the scraps of concrete that form an edge between park and river, legs outstretched toward the dark, oily water. She leans back on both arms, looking over to Salem, her head tipped back. The sound of her laugh is low, almost relaxed; she wets her lips slowly and slants her dark eyes at the seamy-looking Walker. "Mmmmmaybe," she drawls idly.

Salem's lips twist into a dour little half-smile, and again he shakes his head. "Going to catch your fucking death," he mutters. He takes another drag off the cigarette and glances back over the park as he does so... and in this way notices Adrian. The Walker straightens, and his gaze remains on the young Get.

Adrian

Adrian stands at 5'6" and appears to be stepping through the doorway to his teenage years. His body is starting to fill out nicely due to his well known daily routine of working out. Though not physically imposing, it seems he could hold his own in a scrap if needed.

His long blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail highlighting handsome, yet delicate features. He's definately growing into his looks and becoming quite the hottie. His blue eyes seem to smile as much as his lips do. His Nordic features are difficult to miss. His skin tanned from spending so much time outside.

A necklace of rainbow colored links adorns his neck. The young Get is clad in 501's and a white wife beater.

"We can all hope," she says dryly. Then she turns her head, her body twisting after, to follow his look. She might /be/ a snake, coiled on the not-rock of the rough-edged cement.

Adrian nods to Salem quietly, respectfully, hoping someone told him it was cool for the cub to leave.

Salem glances sidelong at Rina and sighs quietly, then turns his attention back to the cub. "Evening, Adrian. Owen let you off on good behavior?" His voice is desert-dry.

Adrian smiles and shakes his head, "Owen has very little to do with me. Not that it matters, I ain't seen him for awhile. Jamethon let me out, told me to go find some good stories to tell."

Rina's eyes light a little when she recognizes the boy, but she doesn't say anything... just twists and rolls onto her stomach, kicking her feet up like a schoolgirl lying on her bed, gossiping on the phone. She pillows her chin on both hands and watches, dark eyes shining.

Salem grunts, easily the least cheerful of the three. "Good for Jamethon, then." He glances at Rina, then back at the Get. "Have you two met?"

Adrian nods, "Once, yeah."

Rina grins. "Wanna go out dancin'? I think it might be the right night at the Temple..."

A mildly pained look flits across Salem's scarred face. "I don't dance, Rina," he says, in the tones of one who's repeated something more times than he can count.

Adrian smiles, but doesn't answer, he's not sure he if he was invited.

Rina's eyes remain fixed on the boy. "I know, Jack. You could chaperone him, if you wanted. I can just see you gettin' hit on by all those pretty boys who're into the rough trade..." She actually giggles, then, looking over to Salem with wide mock-innocent eyes. "Ever had a pretty boy drape himself on you, or d'you usually scare'em away?"

Salem looks at Rina. Just _looks_ at her, mouth thinned into a humorless little line. Then he exhales a breath in a long-suffering kind of way and taps cigarette ash onto the ground. "I must scare them away," he answers, deadpan. He glances at Adrian. "Seems you're invited. Care for a taste of real civilization?"

Adrian smiles, and nods, "Jesus Christ, YES!"

Rina straightens up, legs curled beside her--and holds up a hand demurely to Salem, for his help in standing.

Salem shifts the cigarette to his off hand and helps Rina to her feet, the perfect gentleman, as always.

Adrian moves closer, ready for an adventure, maybe more.

They walk through the darkness of the city, only a few blocks to the rough-looking ex-cathedral... a very strange trio.