It is currently Mon May 19 2003, late afternoon.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is partly sunny. The temperature is 55 degrees Fahrenheit (12 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from variable directions at 7 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.83 and falling, and the relative humidity is 63 percent. The dewpoint is 43 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waning Gibbous Moon phase (74% full).

Studio

The studio is airy, elegantly modern and full of light: a large, high-ceilinged square room with almost an entire wall of windows. It still smells of paint, though there is no evidence of current painting. Rolled canvases lean in one of the corners, and a few finished pieces adorn the walls. A six-foot length of pipe hangs a painting behind the couch, creating a slightly more personal space that evidently serves as a bedroom; the piece is a dark, strange cityscape, an oddly skewed view of the world beyond the glass seen through otherworldly eyes. The edge of a futon can be seen beyond it; the walls around the bed bear swirling patterns of colors, calming shades of undersea blue and green. These patterns gradually soften as they grow out into the rest of the room, where walls are visible; angles replace curves, until the mural becomes a mix of ocean and curcuitry. The sofa is quirky and curving, a work of modern art upholstered in green velvet. A Turkish rug in vibrant tribal colors occupies much of the hardwood floor; the coffee table, a sculpture of recycled blue and green circuit-board and shiny aluminum, rests on it in front of the couch.

Opposite the windows, a compact kitchen is marked off by a crisp stainless steel counter. The west wall nearby has doors to a closet and to a small, sparsely-appointed bathroom. The east wall holds bookshelves of pale wood, supporting a small stereo, collections of pictures and found objects, and a good number of books; the corner between shelving and the wall of windows holds a plain wooden desk with a slim notebook computer and phone atop it, and an elegant mesh rolling chair.

Rina answers the door in loose jeans and bare feet, a pale figure with dark, exhausted eyes. Pleasure softens her face, though, when she sees him--a strange mixing of pleasure and guilt and uncertainty. "Jack," she says lamely. "Come in... please come in?"

Salem looks fairly crisp today, with a clean white shirt hanging open over the usual black t-shirt, and a lighter trenchcoat instead of the heavy leather duster. Dark glasses obscure his eyes. "Of course." He removes the glasses as he enters. His face is difficult to read, but he smiles a little at her and though his eyes are dark, he doesn't seem quite so tired.

Rina closes the door carefully, lingering there for a moment, watching him out of the corners of her eyes. "You... you look better," she says tentatively, turning to look at him

"Got some rest, did some thinking." He cocks his head, eyeballing her as he slips the sunglasses inside his coat. "And you?"

"Lots of both," she says quietly. A swallow tightens her throat. "You ... want anything? Coffee, cappuccino, whatever?"

Salem says, "Coffee's good, if it's no trouble." He continues to look at her with that steady, scrutinizing gaze.

There are still traces of despair, that blackness hidden away behind her eyes. She is a little pale, yet, and thin, as she hasbeen practically since John's death. There is a wistful softness, though, in the way she looks at him a moment longer before going to the kitchen. "I got the good stuff... Cafe Bustelo."

Salem shrugs out of his coat and leaves it draped across the back of the couch. "Did you give any thought to calling that number I gave you?" he asks, following her into the kitchen.

Rina swallows, ducking her head as she spoons coffee into the filter. "Yeah, I-- I think I'll try," she murmurs. One shoulder lifts awkwardly.

Salem leans against the counter, arms folded. "Good," he says gently, watching her.

"Jack..." She flips the switch and turns to look at him, leaning one hip against the counter. The dark, ghostly eyes meet his for a time. "Thanks." The barest strange flicker of a smile comes to her lips, then, and she adds, "That and I'm sorry, seem to do that a lot with you. Maybe I oughta print little cards or somethin'."

Salem utters a low, brief chuckle. "It's all right. Spare the trees, Gaia will thank you."

Rina swallows. "Still." The dark eyes don't leave his. "I don't deserve it, you know," she says softly. "Never have."

Salem shakes his head slightly. "You're family, and you do." He exhales a breath, and then one corner of his mouth quirks upward. "I choose to believe that you're not a hopeless cause, and even if you _were_... well." He shrugs, expression wry. "It's never stopped me before."

Rina ducks her head, then, smiling faintly. "Guess not," she murmurs. Then she looks up, worry touching her expression. "We oughta talk about Cat, sometime."

Salem's smile fades away somewhat, turning rueful. "What now?"

Rina shakes her head, eyes widening. "No, no... just that--" She swallows. "You used to think he was a lost cause, and I-- we gotta figure out some way to give him a spine. Maybe there's some way he can--face up to someone in his Rite, or somethin'... I dunno."

Salem rubs his chin. "Mmn. Make him take a stand and stick by it. Stay firm when pushed. Maybe even push back."

Rina nods, lowering her eyes. "Yeah. He just... he's so regressed, and I don't know how to make him grow up. Even when he's angry it's like an angry eleven-year-old, y'know?"

Salem's lips thin. "Maybe _he_ should be in therapy, too. I know what you mean." The halfmoon shakes his head. "But I don't know how to fix it."

Rina nods. The coffee machine starts to percolate noisily. "Yeah. Me neither."

The Walker shakes his head, then changes the subject. "Did you hear about the last moot?"

Rina glances up to him, guardedly. "No... anything major?"

Salem snorts. "You could say that..." He shifts his weight, straightening up from the counter-lean. "One, I finally challenged for rank." Before she can expression concern, he raises a hand. "Don't worry. It's a Philodox's challenge... no Spiral-hunting required. No combat at all, in fact."

Rina swallows--and then manages a wan smile, when he tries to disarm her worries. "Good," she answers. Narrowing her eyes a touch, she says, "Pass."

"I plan to," he says. "But, the really _big_ news... is that Ouroboros is leaving. The whole pack."

Rina blinks. "Andrea's pack?" She runs a hand through her hair, then. "Damn. That's gonna leave a hole. Wonder who'll step up..." She looks to him again, eyes narrowing slightly. "Does that leave any other Adren?"

Salem brushes back a stray lock of hair. "Nightfire. And... Sepdet." He almost smiles. "That, I just heard today. She's back."

A genuine smile dawns, then, bringing light to her shadowed face. "Sashi? That's real good news... for us, for everybody."

Salem nods. "It is. Frankly, I hope she stays and takes the alpha role. Otherwise, I might have to do it." His tone is joking... but not _entirely_.

Rina nods, watching him with serious eyes. A moment later she turns away, to pour the coffee; the machine has gone silent. She gets down a couple of mugs, and fills them with the dark, rich stuff--fine-ground Latin coffee, very strong. She hands him one, dark eyes lifting to look at him. "You gonna be aright?"

Salem nods as he takes the cup. He takes a sip and makes a low, satisfied noise. "I'll be fine." He meets her gaze.

Rina swallows, and gives the tiniest nod. "Good," she whispers. A moment later she wraps both hands around her cup and drinks, her eyes lowered--suddenly acutely self-conscious, aware of the space between them.

The silence stretches out for a moment or two, as it often does. Then the Walker grunts. "Oh. One more thing. Vampires."

Rina tenses, her attention snapping to him as if he's yanked it there with a choke-chain. "What," she asks guardedly.

Salem lifts his eyes from his cup but doesn't quite look at her. "Do you remember the night Cameron and I ran into one?"

Rina swallows, nd averts her eyes. "Vaguely," she says in a hoarse voice. She rinks down another swallow of coffee, for fortitude.

Salem shifts his weight. "It wasn't the only one. Lyra and Quentin ran into one, and then Renee and Mel." He pauses to take a sip. "They're organizing, or trying to. K.C. was able to make contact, however, with one that was willing to sell the others out in exchange for his life." He keeps his voice neutral, though his expression betrays his distaste. "Says he's clanless and came here to avoid the others. Didn't detect any falsehood on him. His name's Orion." He pauses a moment, remembering details. "Few inches shorter than me, twenty-ish by appearance, green eyes, short blond hair. Rather formal manner."

Rina watches him carefully, her eyes veiled and strange. "Do we know anything about the others? I mean, we oughta at least spread round descriptions and stuff."

He takes another sip of Rina's high-quality coffee. "We have the name and address of a Ventrue in the area."

The dark gaze narrows a fraction. "What's that?" She remains focused on him, her expression shadowed, not quite a scowl.

Salem shrugs. "One of the clans, tribes, whatever, of vampires. They're leaders. Like the Fangs, though not inbred." He glances sidelong at her. "I've decided to let Orion live. He hasn't ghouled anyone, killed anyone, or made any more of himself. As long as he does, and he's willing to work with us..." He trails off and shakes his head slightly. "Anyway. Thought you should know about him."

Rina's jaw tightens. "Yeah. We'll use him while we can--but when he's no longer useful, he goes." There is something fierce, implacable in her eyes. "He just goes to the bottom of the priority list, is all."

Salem nods once, though his expression is wry. "Yes. We have plenty of other enemies." He takes another sip, then glances back toward the living room. "Mind if I sit?"

Rina swallows, chagrined, and waves a hand quickly. "God please go ahead, I'm sorry--" She gives a quick shake of her head, as if to clear it, and follows him out to the couch. "I'm so out of it."

He gives her a faint, crooked smile -- a mere ghost of that rare rogue's grin. "Been a hell of a week." He moves out into the living room and sinks down onto the couch. "Ah. Better."

She sits down, facing him, not quite close enough for knees to touch. The dark eyes watch him closely. "I'm sorry," she says. "For whatever part of it was my fault."

Salem gives her a mildly admonishing look. "Stop apologizing." He regards her seriously. "You're already forgiven, all right?"

Rina swallows, and glances down to her coffee. "Right," she murmurs.

He watches her for another moment, then nods and leans back, stretching his legs and crossing them at the ankles, settling in. "Good." He glances sidelong at her again.

The silence lingers, until she murmurs, "There's a new Fianna in the city. From back home." She clarifies, after a moment: "Chicago."

Salem cocks his head, one eyebrow rising. "Oh?"

Rina nods, and lowers her eyes; a faint smile kindles on her lips. "Yeah. Her name's Charlie. Came with a decent recommendation, although apparently she might turn into a loose cannon. So you should meet her." She lifs her head, looking over at him. "Soon."

Salem nods and swallows the last of his coffee. "Did she give you a number, or let her know where she's staying?"

Rina nods. "Yeah... maybe we can all have cappuccino sometime."

"Mm. Yes." Salem turns the cup around in his hands. "What do _you_ think of her? I assume you've met her already."

Rina's smile widens a touch, and she sips at her coffee again. "She seems cool. I'd like to see her fight." Another swallow, and her lips twist wryly. "She's...real perceptive."

At this, Salem lofts an eyebrow at the kinswoman. "How so?"

Rina hitches one shoulder, and swallows; the familiar shadow crosses her expression. "She just picks up on things."

His gaze lingers on her. "Ah." He leans forward, setting his empty cup on the coffee table.

"Can we just-- hang out, for a while?" she asks quietly. A glance to him, and she drains the last of her own coffee, so she can set her own cup aside.

Salem's head cocks, the gesture almost lupine. "Of course. You want to go out, or just... hang out here?"

Rina lifts a shoulder, and glances over to him, a quiet smile on her lips. "Here's good. Or whatever... you wanna go out?"

In answer, Salem pushes to his feet and stretches. "Out is good. It's a beautiful evening." He looks down at her, one side of his mouth quirking upwards.

Rina lifts her head, a slow smile kindling. "Where to?" Her eyes are brighter than he has seen them sine the overdose--as if the life is coming back.

"Anywhere. Nowhere." There's more life in him too, tonight; he's in a rare good mood. "I'm flexible either way." He reaches down and picks up the light black trenchcoat. "Somewhere out of the city, maybe. Somewhere _fast_." He shrugs into the coat, flashes his teeth in the briefest of grins.

Rina rises to her feet, tipping her head. "You wanna go for a ride?" she asks, not quite suppressing a grin.

"Got it in one," the halfmoon replies. "I think we deserve it, don't you?"

"Lemme get my jacket," she murmurs, "and yank some boots on." She changes into riding leathers--and a few minutes later, they are walking out together, down to the parked Ducati.

The ride is long, out to the east, past Kent Crossing and north on the narrow country roads. She leans forward in front of him, when she punches the throttle; and when they slow to a cruising speed, her hand checks from time to time, touching his arm or his knee.

He says nothing of course, though occasionally the arms around her tighten, usually in response to her touch, as if to say, yes, he's still here. Sometimes, he closes his eyes, nostrils flaring in the rush of wind, for this time simply existing for the moment.

She drives until dark, and after; when dusk comes, she pulls into a deserted county park and stops the bike. Taking off her helmet--rather carefully, since he's right behind her--she shakes out her hair a little, and leans back into him, looking up at the stars.

His arms are still around her, hands clasped over her belly. Silent, he watches the sky with her, though his gaze is drawn away from the stars to the brighter circle of the moon. He isn't smiling anymore, not frowning, either; his expression is abstracted, distant, thoughtful.

"It'll be yours, soon," Rina says quietly. "The half-moon, I mean." She smiles faintly, and lets her eyes drift closed. "Let's stretch the legs a bit, yeah?"

"All right," he says easily, and unclasps his hands, releasing her.

Rina leans forward to hang the helmet on one of the bars. "You first," she says, smiling to herself.

"Oh, right." Salem dismounts from the motorcycle and then, ever the gentleman, turns to offer her a hand down as well.

Rina doesn't take it--these things have their own rhythm and grace. She swings off the seat and winces, leaning over to stretch a bit and then rolling up again. A grin to im, and she pulls off her gloves. "Thanks," she says simply.

Salem shrugs, slips his hands into his coat pockets. He wore no helmet, and what hair isn't tied back hangs around his face in loose black whisps. "Welcome." He glances around at the dark, quiet park. "Been here before?"

"Couple times," she answers, running both hands through her hair and moving, always moving, pacing to stretch her stiff legs. She musses her hair again, then, and grins over to him. "You?"

Jack shakes his head. "Usually, if I decide I need trees, I go to Harbor Park, or out to the Bawn." He walks slowly, more or less following her. "Spent a lot of time running, back in December when I was stuck out there. Remember?"

Rina nods, looking over her shoulder to him--pausing long enough to offer a quick smile. "Yeah. Talk about hell." She rolls her eyes. "I'd go fuckin' stir crazy."

Salem looks wry. "It was easier in wolf form. Easier not to think about things." He glances upward at the moon. "I understand why most choose to live out there. ...But it seems like cheating, somehow." He shrugs, looks back over at the kinswoman. "Our lives weren't meant to be easy."

Rina swallows, and nods. "Kinda like why I don't stay away from ... certain places."

"Mm, yes." His eyes shift back to Luna as if drawn there, and he falls silent, thoughtful again.

She comes to his side, her approach not quite silent--not in all that leather and metal. Close to him, she slides an arm around his waist and leans against his side.

He smiles faintly, crookedly, one corner of his mouth quirking upwards. He's still staring at the moon. "Little moments of peace." His voice is quiet. "Almost makes all the shit worth it, hmm?"

"I don't know," she whispers, leaning into the crook of his shoulder. "I don't know anymore."

Salem looks down at her. "Spring comes," he says, after a moment's pause. "Scars heal. Trust me, they do."

Rina almost laughs--a strange, dry laughter, her smile touched with pain. She looks out into the woods. "Yeah, you'd think I mighta learned by now, huh?"

Salem keeps that faint, crooked little smile of his. "Some lessons are harder than others. I should know." His hands remain in his pockets, but he isn't drawing away from her one-armed embrace. Despite the gibbous moon, he seems almost serene.

Swallowing, she lets go and turns to look up at him. "Y'not gonna get stuck out there again, are you?"

The smile wanes. Salem purses his lips, thinking. "I don't know. It's possible... the idea of rotating and temporary Guardians is a good one, since we don't have a decent number of _permanent_ ones. Come December, I may very well take it up again." He meets her eyes and shrugs faintly. "I have a duty to the caern. Plus, it give the tribe good standing with the rangers."

Rina lets out a breath, somewhat relieved. "Well, December a long way off," she murmurs, ducking her head. One hand rubs at the back of her neck, the glove sending static into her hair. "I'm just-- selfish. But we knew that."

Salem spreads his hands slightly. "You have Cat. And the rest of the family. You ought to get to know K.C. I think you'd like her."

Rina nods, lowering her eyes. "Yeah, I... saw her the other day when I was out for coffee..." She swallows, and glances up with a slightly strained half-smile. "I'm just always wantin' the best, y'know."

Salem cocks his head in a rather birdlike gesture, looking at her in the darkness with that one almost-black eye. "I'm not it," he tells her.

Rina looks away, a wistful expression crossing her face. "You don't know," she murmurs, dryness touching her voice. Wrapping both arms around herself, she falls silent.

Salem continues to look at her, his brow furrowed slightly, his mouth tight. Debating something internally. After a moment or two he says, his expression neutral now, "You want to head back?" His voice is quiet, gentle.

Rina swallows, and paces a few steps away from him, her back arrow-straight. "F'someone who saves my life alla time," she says in a strained voice, "you know how t'make it difficult." For once, she makes an effort to hide her tears from him.

Salem exhales a silent breath. "It's not my intention," he says ruefully.

"I know," she says quietly. "Everybody-- people do what they do, mostly to keep safe. I don't blame you, for..." She's already said way too much, and so she only shakes her head quickly, tightens the hug of her arms. "For anything. I know you--do what y'have to do."

Salem makes a low 'mm' of agreement and looks back up at the moon, his expression still tight and pensive. Guarded.

"Jack?" Her voice is uncertain, barely a whisper; she studies the ground at her feet fixedly, and remains turned from him.

Salem glances over at her, still guarded. "...Yes?"

Something bright falls to the summer grass and brush, and she straightens and tips her head back a fraction, to keep it from happening again. Her voice betrays her, though; he knows that sound, the shaken, hoarse whisper she tries so hard to control. "I can still-- we can still-- lean on each other, sometimes, right?" She swallows. "Like friends?"

Salem inhales a breath and lets it out. "I am," he says gravely, "and always shall be your friend." He shakes his head slightly. "I'm not going to... abandon you."

Rina swallows, and nods quickly. "You just gotta tell me," she says, "if I lean too hard. If I ask for too much. 'Cause I'm-- not so good with the boundary issues."

"I know." There's a hint of wryness in his voice. "And I promise to tell you if you, ah..." Touch of awkwardness. "...cross the border."

Rina nods quickly, "Thanks." She turns on a heel and paces to the bike, moving fast and keeping her face averted from him. Composed, and steady, and getting the helmet on as fast as possible.

Salem rubs the side of his neck, then follows her to the bike. There's a moment when he almost speaks again, but doesn't.

Rina starts up the bike as soon as he's set, and lays on speed as they leave the park and pull out onto the open road. The ride seems faster, colder, going back to the city.

Salem closes his eyes for the ride; the wind whips at his hair and coat; he holds onto her tightly and is spared the need or ability to speak.

It is different when they return; she stops at his apartment building, without getting off the bike or even removing the helmet. There is only a touch to his leg, and then the brief clasp of a gloved hand on his own.

Salem climbs off the Ducati, giving her shoulder a brief squeeze. "Give Cat my regards," he says, sounding somewhat subdued. "And... drive safely, all right?"

Rina nods quickly, her head down for a moment as she looks over the panel. There is just enough time for him to step back, before she shifts the bike into gear and takes off.

Salem watches her go, then sighs, shakes his head, and climbs up the steps into Red Mill.