It is currently 16:29 Pacific Time on Fri Jan 3 2003.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is raining lightly. The temperature is 51
degrees Fahrenheit (10 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in
from the east at 6 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.10 and
rising, and the relative humidity is 83 percent. The dewpoint is 46
degrees Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing No Moon phase (3% full).

Location: St. Claire Airport

She is hardly recognizable in the stream of people coming through the
secured corridor that leads to the gates--another overcoat-wrapped
traveler, dark Armani shades concealing her eyes, her hair pulled back in
a different style with shaggy tendrils hanging around her face. A cashmere
scarf is wrapped around her throat and tossed over one shoulder, and she
looks more like the sophisticated businesswoman than the half-punk
renegade they might have expected.

Still, if she's in disguise, the two Glass Walkers scanning the crowd for
her are blatantly easy to spot. Salem in particular stands tall over most
of the crowd, less jostled than anyone, hard gaze going from face to face,
unsmiling, arms folded across his chest.

"Do you see her yet?" whispers Cat excitedly, although there's no need for
whispering. He couldn't be persuaded to leave his sketchbook and toy
behind, carrying them in a very worn backpack slung over his shoulders.
He's standing at Salem's side, and true to juxtapose, he's smiling shyly,
with ill-concealed happiness.

The near-stranger smiles at the sight of Salem's dark hair above those
near him. Rina flips off the shades and pockets them, then runs a hand
back over her hair as if it can possibly help the hopeless chaos. She cuts
toward them, her expression soft, more said in the dark eyes than on her
face.

"Not yet," the Elder mutters to the cub beside him. Despite the fact of
Rina's return to St. Claire and the hiding moon, he's distinctly grumpy,
his eyes shadowed from lack of sleep. Then he turns and spots her, or
thinks he does, anyway, and squints.

Cat nods soberly, looking around again but seeing nothing but a swarm of
people. He steps a little behind Salem, not liking the crowd at all, or
the security guards who stalk by and leer at the occasional flyer. "How
about now?" he whispers again, looking up at Salem hopefully.

Rina speeds her steps toward them, until she is suddenly there and
unmistakable, with that gift of presence she has. No matter where she is,
the woman seems to take hold of the surrounding space... there are some
things an actor never unlearns, even if the craft itself is set aside.
"Caro," she says quietly, taking Salem's hand in both of hers and giving
him a kiss on each cheek, without the slightest chance for protest.

Salem stiffens, his expression becoming more carefully schooled, though
the welcome in it isn't suppressed entirely, nor is it feigned. "Welcome
back. How was your flight?"

Rina's smile widens a touch, as she lowers her eyes. "Fine," she answers,
offering a broader grin to Cat.

Cat's a bit surprised, by the change of appearance in Rina, and he's not
quite sure what to do about it. He's never seen Rina look so...girly.
"Welcome home Miz Rina," he says softly, stepping up to give her a hug and
then stopping, unsure if he's allowed to hug her.

Rina wraps him in a quick embrace, leaning down to kiss the top of the
boy's head. "Thanks, paisan'," she says quietly, holding him for a moment
longer than might be comfortable for the restless youngster. She is,
however, willing to let go should he get fidgety.

Salem murmurs, "Good," in reply to Rina's 'fine' and passes a hand back
over his head, brushing away stray strands of black hair. He observes the
embtrace, one corner of his mouth twitching subtly upwards, then clears
his throat. "Let's go get your luggage."

Cat doesn't mind the embrace, pulling away when Salem talks about luggage.
"One of the cubs gave me a Christmas present," he announces with wide-eyed
wonder, an awed smile directed at the Kin. "D'you wanna see?"

Rina grins, rumpling Cat's hair affectionately. "Sure. We gotta wait for
my shit, anyway..." With an arm settling around the boy's shoulder, she
begins leading the way toward the stairs, down to the lower-floor baggage
claim.

Salem follows after them, hands vanishing into the pockets of his coat.
The meager half-smile's gone, vanishing as he stalks along. In his
presence, the airport crush lessens, and their path to baggage claim is
unjostled. And his eyes never stop watching the crowd, viewing it with a
suspicion matched only by those of the airport's conpicious security team.

Glowing happily, Cat rustles inside his backpack and produces the Golden
Retriever puppy plushie holding it up so that the Kin can take it if she
so desires. "His name is Sunshine," he says, quite seriously. "Since he
looks like my old dog. 'Tho Catherine got it because she says he looks
like me."

Rina laughs, grinning a bit. "He's adorable," she answers, rumpling the
stuffed toy. "Everyone needs somethin' to hold on to..." The dark eyes
glance over her shoulder, a brief look back to Salem.

"Hm," grunts Salem, neutrally. He glances back over toward them, his eye
settling on the toy with a rueful expression. "Cat's decided that he's
ready to come back to the city," he says. He glances a moment at the boy,
then turns his gaze onto Rina's.

Cat nods, agreeing with Rina totally, as the toy is carefully placed back
in his bag. Then he glances up at Salem, pingponging to Rina with a
hopeful, quite look. "I learned a lot at the Farm," he adds, as if that
was the key to leaving it.

Rina looks down to Cat quickly, her smile a touch distracted. "Good," she
says. "Can you fight?"

Salem's mouth twists sourly, his expression saying all that needs to be
said about Cat and the ability to fight. "Hmnh."

The cub flinches slightly, smile turning sheepish. "Um...not really. I can
run." Pause. "Mostly."

Rina lets out a breath, as they pause by the right carousel. "Well. Guess
you can't learn everything at once," she says dryly. "But we'll have to
get on that. Bein' fast is good... it'll help you fighting, too." Her dark
eyes watch the empty metal baggage oval go round and round.

Salem clears his throat quietly, standing on Rina's other side. "We were
wondering how you'd feel about Cat staying with you for a while."

Cat shuffles a bit, glancing quickly at Rina and then announcing that he'd
go wait for Miz Rina's bags. He heads to the mouth of the
baggage-go-round, despite the fact he has no idea what Rina's bags look
like.

Rina looks over to the man with a startled blink, staring at him a moment
in shock. It gives Cat the chgance to make his escape, though her
attention swivels to the boy again as he walks away. She watches the
slight youngster for a moment or two, speechless.

Salem sighs slightly, perhaps at her look of shock, or maybe at Cat's
abrupt fleeing of the scene. Or, what's most likely, both. "If it wouldn't
be an inconvenience, of course," he says quietly, glancing from Cat down
to Rina. "I know he'd enjoy it, and... well." He trails off, lips pursed.

Every so often, the cub sneaks the briefest of glimpses at the two adults,
then returns to staring at the baggage-go-round dutifully. Look! A bag!
It's a ski bag, with skis inside, so doubtful it's Rina's...but he looks
at the tag, just in case.

Rina looks over to Salem, a darting, nervous glance. "And what?" she says,
voice low with anxiety. Tension. "*I'm* no good with kids..."

Salem snorts. "And I am?" He smiles thinly, wry and humorless and hard,
but his voice is gentle. "The truth is, there's no room at my place with
Mel there, and I'm taking enough risks already on that front. Cat trusts
you. And... I'd feel more at ease. For both your sakes."

The mere mention of the woman's name makes her look away, a muscle jumping
in the line of her jaw as she looks toward Cat. She gives a curt, tiny
nod. "Aright," she says hoarsely. "You can have your space, or whatever."

The boy's got his hands wrapped around the handle of a wheeled bag,
tugging it off the conveyer belt. He's half-hidden behind other passengers
crowding around the belt to get their own luggage. Apparently, he's got
one of Rina's bags.

Salem gives her a look of mild exasperation, brow furrowing, then exhales
a short sigh. "Forget it, then. I'll make other arrangements." He pauses a
beat, mouth tightening into a small frown. "And before you ask, no, I am
not sleeping with her."

She doesn't look at him. "I didn't ask, did I?" Rina says quietly. There
is something behind her voice, a dangerous tension. She immediately stalks
toward Cat, her jaw set. This time, something's all wrong with her smile,
when she looks down to offer it. "Thanks," she says, too quietly. "That's
all there is."

Salem remains where he is; he's closer to the exit anyway, and they'll
have to come back his way to head out. He rubs at his eyes wearily.

Startled, and subdued by the different aura around Rina, the boy just nods
jerkily, glancing at Salem, Rina, and Salem again before pulling the bag
behind him. He doesn't dare ask what arrangement's been made, although
from the disappointed look on his face, he's guessing.

Rina watches the ground in front of her. "So," she says quietly, "we'll
hafta see if we can find a cot or somethin'... somethin' better than the
couch for you t'sleep on."

Salem pushes his hands back into his pockets and watches them from a
distance, his expression flat.

Cat's head goes up immediately. "You mean-" He smiles again, head up a
little higher and step a little bouncier. "That's okay, I don't mind the
couch. You...you don't mind, do you?"

Rina manages a more genuine smile. "'Course not," she says, mussing his
hair and attempting to take the rolling suitcase from his charge.

Satisfied, Cat weaves out of Rina's grasp. "I can carry it," he assures
her, lent strength by his happiness. He smiles sunnily at Salem when they
get closer to him, the boy's way of telling him all is well, in his world
at least.

Salem manages to conjure up a thin smile in return, not looking Rina's way
as he joins the two of them in heading out of the airport.

Rina does not look at him, either, a glass wall between them. She talks to
Cat, though, as they head out to the car. "So tell me about this Catherine
person, who's she?"

A glass wall, and a Glass Walker cubling. Slowly picking up
on...something...the cub replies slowly, "A Gaian cub I met at the farm."
Rina's bag follows him dutifully.

Rina nods, her smile firmly in place for him. "Cool. Who else have y'met?"

Salem remains frigidly silent, stalking along at Cat's other side,
glowering dourly when someone accidently blunders a little too close to
the trio.

Sharing a glance between the two, he continues, "Rusty-rhya, a nomoon
Fianna...Lana-rhya. Tobin-rhya. Bernie-rhya." He pauses, trying to dredge
up more names. "Peggy-rh...uh, just Peggy. Andrea-rhya." He pauses again,
a slightly worried expression coming to his face.

Rina tips her head, watching him as they stroll along. "Hm?

Cat's quiet for a moment, blinking in confusion. He seems to be making a
decision. "Mister Salem and I are glad you're back," he pipes up finally.
Rina's bag, trailing behind the cub, wavers into the space behind Salem
and bumps into his foot as he strides by, then quickly falls back in line
behind Cat. "I missed you very much."

Salem's face tightens slightly as the cub spouts out one 'rhya' after
another, but he doesn't say anything.

Rina smiles awkwardly despite herself, ducking her head with a hint of
discomfort. "Missed you too, Cat," she says quietly. "Anybody tell you
about... how some stuff, we don't talk about with other people around?"

"Um." Cat blinks, sheepish again. "Sorry. I forgot."

Rina rumples his hair again lightly. "It's important," she says seriously.

"Highly," says the Elder, curtly. They reach the row of glass doors
leading out of the airport and Salem moves ahead to hold one open. The
night air is chilly but calm.

Nodding shamefacedly, Cat resolves to be utterly silent till they reach
the Yugo. He concentrates on keeping a tight hold of Rina's bag instead.

Rina glances at the man, briefly, before she steps through. Both hands
wrap her coat a little tighter around herself.

Salem has the mask firmly in place, his expression devoid of emotion.
Striding ahead and leading the way toward the car, he fishes out a
cigarette and lights it with sharp, efficient gestures.

Rina watches him with a hawk's eyes, intent and predatory.

Cat opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again, instead pressing the
handle of the wheely-bag back into itself so that it was small. He walks
up to the side of the car, leaving the bag there before he sidles up to
Salem. "Are you very angry at me?" he whispers, eyes on the Philodox.

The cigarette dangles from the side of the tall Walker's mouth, smoke
trailing upward from its glowing end, gray tendrils rising to meet the
massive lights that shine all through the parking lot. "No. You slipped.
It happens. Hopefully, no harm was done." He unlocks the trunk of the Yugo
and opens it; it's empty but for a wrench set, and there's room enough for
Rina's bags.

Rina lifts the suitcase with a jerk, settling it into the back. "So," she
says tersely, "when *are* you gonna fuck her?" Almost as if she's asking
the time of day, and without looking at him; she turns and heads for the
passenger side.

The crescent cub nods, doubtful of Salem's answer nonetheless. He goes
back towards Rina's side, but at her outburst, stops dead in his tracks
and looks to Salem immediately. The questions "What did I do?" and "What
did you do?" are pasted on his face.

Salem growls. Literally. It's a low, wolf noise, deep in the halfmoon's
throat. He makes no other reply as he slams the trunk shut -- the car
visibly rocks with the force of it -- and stalks over toward the driver's
side, unlocking his door and then climbing in behind the wheel. He leans
over, unlocks the passenger door, then starts up the engine before either
of them have even climbed inside. The Yugo comes to life, reluctantly.

Rina yanks the door open on her side, and tugs the front seat forward to
let Cat in.

Blinking in utter, utter confusion, a silent cub climbs into the back and
curls up behind Salem's seat, watching the two of them with wide eyes.

The interior of the car is cold and smells of oil and cigarette smoke; the
heater will take care of the first, in a moment or two. Salem drums his
fingers on the wheel of the car, glowering straight ahead with the
cigarette jutting upwards from his mouth, waiting for Rina to get in and
buckled.

Rina slides into her seat, and slams the door. She looks over to Salem,
her expression hard. "You gonna answer the question? Or should I just
speculate? She'll probably throw herself atcha soon enough..."

Cat makes himself as small as possible, staring into his backpack, which
he holds on his lap.

Salem puts the car in gear and pulls out of the parking space. "I've had
women throw themselves at me before," he answers tightly, his eyes fixed
firmly ahead. "Happened just a few months ago, in fact, and I didn't fuck
_her_."

Rina's hands clench in her lap, and her face pales slightly; only that
white shade, and her eyes, betray the depth of the anger. "Yeah. You're
mister fucking self-restraint. You kinda remind of this guy I used to
know. He was so restrained they called him Ice."

"So restrained that he screwed around on his fiance behind her back, yes.
I think I remember that man." It's a good thing that the moon's in its new
phase; small muscles are twitching angrily in Salem's cheek, making the
scars jump. His hands are tight on the wheel.

Turning her face away, Rina stares out the window to conceal the shine in
her eyes. "*Fuck* you," she whispers.

Salem's jaw tightens; he removes one hand from the wheel to tap ash into
the car's ashtray, then sets the handrolled cigarette back firmly between
his lips. He's driving too fast -- faster than he normally does, anyway.

Rina watches the street streak by, face turned to the window. Tears slide
down her cheeks, but only briefly; after a time they dry away and the only
trace is a redness in her eyes.

His backpack tight in his arms, the boy's closed his eyes and pretending
to be anywhere else other than here.

A tense, uncomfortable silence fills the car, more acrid than the smoke
from the ex-Ronin's cigarette. Salem drives, offering up no further
conversation.

"I'll come by tomorrow, to pick up your stuff," Rina says quietly. "Okay,
Cat? You can call me or somethin' when you want me to come."

Cat makes a small, whimpering sound. "Kay," he whispers, not mentioning
that all the stuff he owns, really, is in the backpack.

Finally -- and none too soon -- the battered Yugo pulls up in front of
Rina's building. His face still tight and cold, Salem kills the engine and
gets out, stalking around to the back of the car to open the trunk.

Rina is just as quick. "I'll get it," she says swiftly, without lifting
her eyes to look at him. With a violent jerk, she pulls the suitcase up
and out and sets it down.

Cat stays curled up in the back, ignoring the world around him.

"Fine," Salem snaps, slamming the trunklid shut again. The cigarette's
almost dead; he takes the butt from his lips and flicks it into the
gutter.

"I wouldn't blame you," Rina says idly, a lightness laid over steel in her
voice. "She's pretty hot. And I'm sure you're tired of sleepin' alone."
She leans for a moment on the back corner of the Yugo, and looks over at
him steadily. "Aren't you?" Expressionless, save for that taint of
something hurt and bitter in her eyes.

Salem's nostrils flare, his posture going rigid. "Jesus fucking Christ,"
he says, the words coming out quiet and fast, a tense and angry hiss.
"She's at least ten years younger than I am."

Rina lifts a shoulder. "So? She's got mad skills, from what I've heard..."
Something twists across her averted face, pain and guilt and hurting. "I
was wrong to go off on you like that," she says abruptly. "Maybe it'd be
good for you. I got no right." Pushing away from the car, she heads for
the door with her suitcase rolling in tow.

Still inside the car, Cat sits up, although his head is bowed and he's got
his back to the two of them. He's mumbling to himself, eyes shut tight.

Salem utters a slight groan, anger giving way to exasperation,
frustration. "_Rina_. I'm not sleeping with her. I'm not _going_ to sleep
with her. I'm keeping a damned _eye_ on her."

She stops a moment at the door, to flip keys into her hand with a rattle.
"I got no right," she says tightly. "I was outta line. You don't hafta say
anything."

Cat finally opens his eyes, peering out the window at the two adults,
perfectly miserable.

Salem glances at the car and the sunlight-headed boy inside it and then
turns back to stare wearily at the kinswoman. He sighs and pushes his
hands into his pockets. "I don't know what to tell you, Rina, I really
don't," he says tiredly.

She opens the door one-handed. "I'll be by tomorrow," she murmurs, ducking
her head and going inside.

Salem's mouth twists; he looks away. "Fine," he mutters, dull and flat.
Gloomily, the Walker moves back around the Yugo and climbs into the
driver's seat.

The boy's frown deepens to a pout, and he looks back into his bag. He's
quite close to tears. But he's silent, and doesn't ask where he'll stay
for the night.

Salem lights another cigarette and starts the engine. "Can you stand the
farmhouse for one more night?" he asks the cub expressionlessly as he
pulls away from the curb.

"Yessir," is Cat's whisper. He rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand
furiously, but he doesn't look up.

"Good." Salem says nothing more as he drives the cub back out to the
woods.

Once they've pulled up to the lane, Cat finally speaks. "Why do you have
to fight?" he whispers, as if speaking any louder will draw the halfmoon's
anger to him.

Salem grunts. "Sometimes, it happens."

The cub's quiet, and then he leans over to the other side, reaching around
the passenger seat and opening the door. "I don't," he chokes out, tears
becoming stronger, "wanna see you -or- Miz Rina-" the door swings open
"-till you're both nice again!" And full out crying, the boy stumbles out
of the vehicle and makes a run for the house.

Salem, grimacing, shakes his head and leans over to pull the door closed
again. Then he pulls out and drives away, tires rattling on the gravel
lane.

[Later...]

Storeroom

A large, cold storeroom. Rows of empty metal shelves are bolted to the
concrete floor, and light's provided by a few naked light bulbs hanging
from the ceiling. There's a bare mattress on the floor, along with a caged
iguana and some of Cassiel's other things -- clothes, blankets, a pillow,
and the like. There's a bathroom at one end of the storeroom, but the
water's been turned off. The single door leading out is usually locked,
and has a bolt on the outside to secure it further.

Cassiel nods, "Thanks." She goes racing off towards the corner, clicking
her tongue as she tries to con the reptile out of his hiding spot.

Daisy yawns and scratches at her arm as the lizard is hunted down.

The bolt on the other side of the door scrapes back; the sound is followed
by the rattle of keys in the lock, heralding Salem's arrival. The Walker
Elder looks to be in poor temper, but he's got a pizza box in one hand.

Cassiel glances back and frowns a bit at Salem's arrival, but easily
becomes distracted by the emergence of Godzilla. She grabs the reptile
around his waist and drags him over to her, then manages to heft him up
and return him to his perch on her shoulders.

Daisy watches the door as it's opened, then sits up a bit straighter as
Salem arrives, eager and attentive. Moreso because there's also pizza
involved possibly. She stands and greets him. "Rhya."

"Daisy. Cass. Evening." His greeting is curt and crisp, given as he closes
and locks the door behind him. "Brought over some dinner. How's she
getting along?" The question's directed at Daisy.

Cassiel moves for the pizza, paying little attention to the others now.
She's hungry, and her mood isn't the most social at the moment.

Daisy purses her lips as she tries to come up with a string of proper
words. "Good. Believe in Garou now." Her voice lowers as she steps closer
to Salem. "Fall over asleep. Be nice. Easy." She searches for the right
phrase and finds a neatly packaged one. "Sink in."

Salem nods faintly, his gaze going to the cub. The pizza's got pepperoni,
sausage, and extra cheese and is still fairly warm. "Has she shifted yet?"

Cassiel snags a slice and takes a few bites, chewing slowly as she listens
in on the others' conversation, while trying to look like she's not
listening at all.

Daisy shakes her head negatively. "Not time. Bad moon."

Salem grunts. "Well, it'll come." He fishes one of the handrolled
cigarettes from the slim black case he keeps inside his coat and lights
up. Exhaling smoke, he looks over at the cub, studying her critically.

Cassiel offers a tiny bit of the pizza crust to the reptile draped across
her shoulders. He just stares at it, then curls his tail around to rest
against her back. Shrugging, she finishes the crust off herself and goes
for another slice.

Daisy reaches up to pat Salem on the shoulder in agreement as she moves
towards the exit. "Patience," the theurge advises. "Call later. Talk of
other cub. Okay? Tired."

Salem nods, glancing over at the Theurge, unsmiling. "All right. Still
staying at the farm?"

"Woods," the lupus replies somewhat unhappily.

Cassiel finishes the second slice, then quietly makes her way back over to
the mattress, where she lays down on her stomach and lets the reptile
sprawl out on her back.

Salem grimaces. "We'll need to rectify that, somehow. Maybe Rhiannon or
Jeremy will be willing to put you up. Hm."

Daisy takes a piece of pizza to go. "Tomorrow. Talk. Bye." She waves a
hand awkwardly at Cassiel. "Bye."

Cassiel lifts a hand and waves to Daisy. "Nice talking to you..." she
mumbles, watching the other girl go on her way.

"Cockroach watch your steps, Daisy," Salem says quietly.

Daisy slips out the door as she bites into the abducted pizza slice.

Cassiel sighs and curls herself up on the mattress, causing the iguana to
make his way off of her back and onto the mattress beside her.

Salem brushes back a stray lock of hair, then turns his eye back toward
the cub. "So. You believe us, now?"

Cassiel shrugs. "I'm not sure what to think, to be honest with you. You
just can't toss this at a person and expect them to comprehend it all in
the matter of a couple days."

Salem leans against one of the shelves and flicks ash onto the concrete
floor. "True enough. An open mind's the first step. It'll be easier once
you've shapeshifted yourself."

Cassiel mm-hmms softly. "I still don't believe that's going to happen, but
since you sound so sure of it, I'll play along with your little game for
the time being."

Salem's lips thin into a slight grimace, but he lets the comment pass by
unmolested. "Hm. So. What did Daisy tell you?"

Cassiel is currently curled up on the mattress with a four foot long
iguana laying by her side. Her eyes move in Salem's direction as she
ponders an answer. "She wasn't much of a talker. After trying to knock
Godzilla off of my shoulders before I could explain he was my pet,
she...did some weird thing. And that was that."

There is a soft knocking on the door, followed by a fit of coughing.

Salem's eyes narrow. "What kind--" He's interrupted by the knocking and
goes to the door, unlocking it and opening it a crack. "Ah. Jeremy. Come
in." The Walker Elder steps slightly aside to let the kinsman in.

Cassiel lifts her head a bit to see the newcomer, but doesn't move much
else besides that.

The gothic steps into the room, wearing a new shirt that reads: You are so
off my buddy list. He is also wearing bondage pants, zippers and chains
everywhere. He looks even more freakier and weaverish then usual. It is
afterall, Friday night. "Hey." He says in a soft voice, rubbing a hand
over his spikey blue hair.

Salem closes the door behind the goth and turns the lock. "Cass, meet
Jeremy. He's has the blood as well, but isn't one of the transforming
sort." Again, the halfmoon's manner is curt and businesslike, no warmth at
all.

Cassiel waves a hand, then starts to lightly rub the iguana's side.
"Goody. More visitors. I swear, it's like a freak show and I'm the one on
display. Are you going to start charging them soon?"

"Would you rather I put you in some kind of solitary?" Salem retorts,
taking a drag on the cigarette. "These people are your family. Your _true_
family."

"Last time I checked, my family was scattered around California and
various other states, not kidnapping me and shoving me into some dank,
deserted building," she snaps back, curling herself up further. "And not
acting all disturbed either. I think you are in some serious need of a
therapist."

Salem's mouth twists. He straightens up and glowers at the cub, thousands
of years of noble breeding staring out of that scarred, hawkish face.
"Enough. I'm not in the mood. Now tell me what 'weird thing' Daisy did."

Cassiel frowns and pulls a blanket up over herself and the lizard. "She
did what you did," comes her muffled reply, "And I'd prefer to speak no
more of it, if you don't mind. But I'm sure you'll keep questioning me
anyhow."

"Describe what you saw, and remember. In detail." There's a weight behind
the man's question; his eyes bore into her as he takes in another lungful
of cigarette smoke.

Jeremy simply stays quiet as he dips his head towards the young girl,
hands shoved into his pockets. The chains jingle now and then about his
body as he settles himself down in a chair, peering intently at the cub.

Cassiel sighs, "A big furry...doglike thing. Massive. Way larger than me.
I was holding her arm when she did whatever it was she did. Spooked both
me and 'zilla. I guess I fainted, because when I came to she was," and
this is where she scrunches up her nose and frowns again, peering out from
under the blanket, "She was licking my face."

Salem's eyebrows lift. Then he grunts. "Daisy wasn't born human like you
or I. She's what we refer to as a lupus. Wolf-born."

Cassiel ohs. "Umm...good for her, then? No wonder she was speaking funny.
I thought she was just an immigrant or something." Her voice starts to get
that 'yeah, right' tone to it.

"Cassiel." Salem's patience is thin, but he manages to hold onto it with
effort. "Consider the facts. Werewolves exist. Do you deny it?"

Cassiel grabs a pillow and places it under her head. "I'm not sure what to
believe anymore. I guess they're real, but I honestly doubt that I'm one
of them."

Salem grunts. "We'll leave that aside for now. Most don't believe until
their first change. All you need to know, right now, is that whether you
can shift or not, you have the wolf blood. And that some of us are born
human and some born animal. Now." He takes another drag on the cigarette.
"Anything else I can bring you?"

Cassiel hmms, then nods. "I need some music. It's too quiet in here for
me, and if you want me to be somewhat tolerable of all this, then I need
something to listen to. Other than that I guess I only need something to
drink and it's like I'm right at home. Minus the furniture, water, carpet,
and all of that other stuff."

Salem purses his lips. "I'll bring a radio."

Cassiel manages a ghost of a smile as a yawn escapes her throat. "Thanks
for at least agreeing to do it. Most kidnappers would've just let their
victims sit and fester in their own thoughts." The girl shifts about,
making herself comfortable. "Now, unless you're going to be really creepy
and watch me sleep, I don't think there's anything else I can do for
you..."

Salem bares his teeth slightly in something that doesn't look much like a
smile. "Get some sleep, then. I'll see you tomorrow." He goes out, then,
with the strange, silent gothboy, locking and bolting the door behind him.

[And still later...]

Regan Avenue West, Downtown

For two or three blocks, between Thirteenth and Fifteenth Streets,
red-brick apartment buildings alternate with the occasional small,
struggling side garden or a small business. A pizza parlor decorates the
corner of one intersection, and a relatively prosperous deli takes up
space at another. Along one street, a fire station interrupts the other
buildings, small but obviously in good condition from frequent need.
Graffiti shows on sidewalks and on a few of the buildings, but is not
prevalent. The road has been paved sometime within the last few years, to
judge by the lack of potholes.

Rina slants Carter a strange look, slouching against the wall with one
eyebrow raised. "No /way/," she says.

Carter shrugs. "Why not? It's so odd, there's a good chance I'll notice.
Shouldn't keep you more than half an hour or so." As if to punctuate him,
another band roams past his grin.

It wipes away her smile, and she goes ghost-white, staring at him. "Okay.
That's gotta stop." She swallows. "It's like-- a band of invisible. Like
when an old TV isn't lining up and you gotta fix the parallel..."

It's coincidence, maybe, that Salem happens to be wandering along this
particular block, but it's his part of town, and the Glass Walker is
restless tonight. He stalks along, a cigarette between his lips and his
hands in his coat pockets. He's still some distance away, but close enough
to catch the sound of Rina's voice, and he pauses, frowning as he scans
the street.

Rina pages: She's leaning against the wall, just inside an alley. Almost
invisible from the street.

Carter's eyes widen. "Ah. Really? Well. Hmm. Probably a backlash effect.
Not much I can do but let it work it's way out. Sorry if it's
distracting." His smile is a bit sheepish, as is the shrug.

Rina looks decidedly apprehensive. "Right. Um.... long as it's not bad. Or
contagious." She studies him a moment, her eyes narrowing a fraction.
"I'll be in touch."

Carter nods, slipping into the alley. "Looking forward to it."

Salem rubs at his mouth, staring at the nearly-invisible figure just
inside the alleyway. As in the airport, he's far more easy to spot than
she is, even with the hood of his coat up.

Rina rolls around the edge of the alley, her head tipped back and her eyes
turned upward. "Holy fuck," she says quietly.

Salem remains where he is, looking her way like he's not quite sure it's
who he thinks it is. He pushes back the hood, and his hair -- unbound for
once -- is tugged by the winter wind.

It doesn't take long. After the space of a breath, she straightens and
looks around, to find the watcher. When she catches sight of him, she
stands still for a long moment, studying him with guarded eyes.

He takes the cigarette from his lips and drops it on the sidewalk,
crushing it deliberately out underfoot as he steps forward. Long legs
carry him closer to her alley, unhurried.

Rina is pale. The traces of an evening's crying still linger, a redness to
her eyes, a shadow cast beneath them. There is a hint of apprehension in
that face, as she watches him pace toward her--but she holds her ground,
straightening a little as he approaches.

Salem stops well outside her personal space, regarding her with that
intent, burning gaze she knows so well. "Evening." His greeting's muted,
quiet.

She can only look up at him for a moment, before her dark eyes slide away.
Color touches her face. "Hey," she says faintly. She isn't quailing, not
quite, but her body shrinks the barest fraction closer to the wall.

Salem looks away as well, folding his arms across his chest and studying a
bit of graffiti scrawled into the wall near him. "I'm sorry," he says
shortly, after a moment's silence. "I said a few things that were...
inappropriate. I let my temper get the better of me."

Rina swallows, and closes her eyes for a moment; when they open again,
they remain averted. "No--" Her throat is dry, her voice unsteady. "It was
my fault. I shouldn't've--" Another swallow, and she ducks her head,
something twisting across her face. "I got no right to bitch you out over
it. Over anything."

"I'm sorry," she adds, quietly.

Salem exhales a soft breath. "Forgiven," he murmurs. His eyes lift back to
her face, tired and uncertain. "It _is_ good to have you back."

Rina blinks several times, her fractured composure crumbling away. She
still doesn't look up at him, unable to lift her eyes as they fill with
tears. "Not when I--" Wincing, she gives a small, angry shake of her head.
"I'm sorry," she says again, with a touch more force. Both hands are
clenched at her sides. Most of the dark hair has escaped its
confinement--too short, really, for the attempted ponytail.

"Shit," he murmurs, hoarsely. His arms unfold, and one hand makes an
abortive gesture for the inside coat pocket where he keeps his cigarettes;
he shoves it into a coat pocket inside, along with its brother, deep. He
looks away again, misery lurking around his eyes, oozing past the cracks
of the mask. "Shit, shit, shit."

Rina shakes her head quickly. "We'll-- we'll just forget about it," she
says hoarsely. "All of it. Aright? There's other things we gotta deal
with." None of the tears have fallen, yet; her eyes are shimmering with
them.

Salem nods slightly. "Other things. Right." He takes a deep breath and
lets it out. His own eyes are dry -- dull, but dry.

Rina swallows, and one hand rubs at the back of her neck. "There's
somethin' I gotta tell you," she says quietly, without once looking up.
"Somethin' that might help."

"Oh?" He shifts his gaze back to her face, almost cautiously. "What?"

She glances out to the street, nervously. "John would roll in his grave,"
she murmurs. "But this guy I know, he says he's got a way to convince the
Russians I'm dead."

Salem's eyes narrow; a frown tugs at the corners of an already
less-than-happy mouth. "He does? How?"

Rina's jaw tightens. "It's the mage," she says quietly. "So."

"Ah." Salem purses his lips thoughtfully, his eyes still narrowed. "Which
one? The last I knew, there are a few that lurk about or wander into and
out of our neighborhood." What's lacking is a reflexive kneejerk of hate;
he doesn't share the late Ahroun's prejudice against worldwarpers.

Her throat tightens in a swallow. "The bad one," she murmurs. "Carter.
Anarchist. Runs a fighting ring."

Salem's mouth thins. "Carter. Hm." He thinks for a moment, then shakes his
head. "What did he have in mind?"

Rina shakes her head minutely. "Dunno. He just said he could convince the
Russians I was dead."

Salem wrinkles his nose, looking dubious. "I see. Did he name a price?"
The tone of the halfmoon's voice suggests that he suspects the answer will
be in the negative.

Her manner is still subdued, perhaps even more so. "We don't...
negotiate," she says quietly. "Not like that. They ... came around asking
questions, and apparently it pissed him off."

Salem rubs at the side of his neck. "Mmm." He still sounds doubtful, but
he's tired as well, that much is obvious. "Something to think about,
then."

She looks up, then, searching his face for a long moment. "Yeah." Her
throat tightens in a swallow, and there is a silence. "Will you--"
Difficult to ask. "I know I got no right. But-- but would you walk me
home?"

"Absolutely." His answer is quiet and without the slightest bit of
hesitation. As if he could ever really deny her anything.

"Thanks," she murmurs, ducking her head again to start walking.

Salem walks alongside her in silence, hands in pockets. His good side's to
her, but he doesn't look at her more than the occasional quick glimpse;
most of his attention is on the street.

After a long period of walking in silence, she looks over to him. "I
didn't--" Her voice breaks, and she has to push again to speak, to make
words come. "I'm sorry." Swallowing, she looks down to the sidewalk for a
moment. "I guess it made me selfish, you bein' there f'me all the time. So
the minute--" Wincing, she falters again and falls silent, giving an angry
little shake of her head.

"You thought I'd stop being there for you?" Salem asks, quietly. He looks
her way, his gaze terribly solemn, his eyes bruised with lack of sleep.

Rina wets her lips nervously, and glances over to him, meeting the dark
eye for a long moment. Her steps slow a little. "I don't have any right to
think that, or to be--" She swallows again, and looks ahead, forcing the
confession. "Jealous."

The word puts a brief stutter in his steps, a slight pause. He eyes her
almost warily now and echoes, "Jealous."

Rina presses her lips together. "I'm sorry," she says quietly. "It's
just-- because of her, and John, and--" She gives a quick, violent shake
of her head and keeps walking, a determined set to her jaw. "I'm sorry, is
all."

Salem exhales a quiet sigh and keeps pace with her. One corner of his
mouth twists upwards ruefully. "She's really not my type, you know."

Rina lets out a breath, and summons her usual dry humor. "You have a
type?"

Salem arches an eyebrow, putting on his best wry expression. "What, you
think I'm not selective?"

Rina purses her lips slightly, and glances over to him. "I wouldn't know.
I've never known you to actually go /out/ with anyone, so."

"Exactly," comes the reply. Salem's voice is all light banter. "I have
very high standards." He inserts a touch of self-mockery there, like a
master chef adding just the right amount of seasoning. The faint, crooked
smile looks a bit strained, though.

Rina manages a vague echo of that smile, and she lets both hands drop into
her pockets. When she bows her head, a few shocks of unruly dark hair fall
forward to obscure her face. "Maybe you oughta loosen up some."

Salem makes a 'hmm' noise in reply, as though considering it. "Perhaps.
Any suggestions?"

Rina lets out an odd snort. "Yeah right. I know so many straight chicks."

Salem opens his mouth slightly, closes it, then clears his throat. "Ah.
Well. Too bad, then."

One hand leaves the jacket pocket, to rub at the back of her neck. After a
brief silence, she says, abruptly, "I don't know if I can trust him.
Carter. If he'll hold it over me, or..." A swallow tightens her throat.
"Anything."

The deliberate humor drains away from the tall Glass Walker. He grunts,
looking sour. "Yes. I'd like to know his motivations. That saying about
how my enemy's enemy is my friend is bullshit, or so I've often found."

Rina shakes her head. "It's not just that," she murmurs uncomfortably.
"He's... there was..." She bites her lower lip, hard.

He tilts his head, eyeing her for a moment, brows lowered. "Oh. Were
you...?" He trails off.

Rina swallows. Her head remains bowed, and both hands return to her
pockets; the hunched shoulders betray her guilt. With a taint of sick pain
in her voice, she murmurs, "It was the only-- the only time I really
betrayed him." Pressing her lips together, she falls silent.

The Philodox sighs quietly, one hand coming up to push back the strands of
hair that have escaped being confined to the ponytail. "I'm sorry."

Rina lets out a breath sharply, her face twisting into a hard expression.
"Not your fault I'm a fuckin' whore," she says tightly.

His face tightens. "You're not a whore. And if you are, then so was he."

Her expression twists again, and she turns her face away. "No. He was
never like me." Grimly, she returns her attention to the street, to the
problem at hand. "So. I know I don't wanna die. I know they're still
gunning for me. What I don't know is if I can trust Carter far enough to
do this thing."

Salem looks disgruntled, still, but lets it go, turning his glower on a
stray dog that's sniffing at a streetlamp near their path. The mutt lays
its ears back and jogs off quickly. "Mmf. Yes. I'd give a lot to know
exactly what he thinks he can _do_."

She keeps her eyes down and ahead. "I know he-- can make people feel
things. Affect the mind. I've seen him do it. He says he can make them
think I'm dead. Make a charm, or something, that'll make them believe it.
The ones who really are Russian, anyway."

A muscle twitches in Salem's jaw. It takes him a moment to reply, and his
voice is calm and even. It's a facade, masking an emotion that's not quite
anger, not quite disgust, not quite horror, but a mingling of all three.
"That doesn't help with the ones who aren't."

"No," she says matter-of-factly. "But the capos, the guys at the top... it
may not be all a family organization, but these guys segregate. They don't
give power to anybody outside their red brotherhood. Some kinda Aryan
thing or somethin', like they're better than everybody."

Salem snorts at the word 'Aryan', finding some black humor in the word.
"It'd be something, anyway. If the gift is worth it."

Rina lifts a shoulder. "Idunno," she murmurs, looking at the sidewalk in
front of her. "It's not like it's anything big to hold over my head... and
if he tries, I can just say fuck it and I'm right back where I started.
Russians lookin' to whack me. So."

"So," Salem echoes. He doesn't have any further answers. Not tonight,
anyway. He lapses into silence again.

Rina walks silently for a while, and then glances over to him. One hand
rubs at her neck again. "Cat's at your place, yeah?"

Salem looks away, studying the pavement as he passes under their feet. He
shakes his head briefly. "Farmhouse."

Rina winces. "Oh. Shit. I'm sorry." She takes a careful breath. "I can
just go pick him up out there tomorrow mornin', then. We can deal with
getting his stuff later."

"Are you sure it's all right?" Salem asks, glances sidelong at her.

She nods quickly in answer, and then looks over to him with a vague
attempt at a smile. "Yeah. As long as it's not gonna break his heart... I
mean, he thinks the sun rises and sets on you." Glancing down again, she
hitches a shoulder up slightly. "I gotta admit I was kinda worried he'd be
upset, that you didn't want him to live with you."

"He thinks that the moon waxes and wanes at your command, so we're even."
The corners of his mouth twitch, not quite a smile. "And... I didn't want
you to be alone." He takes a deep breath and lets it out. "Plus, I know no
one better to nuture a budding artist and, hopefully, marksman."

"Oh." She swallows, and looks over to him. "Thanks." A faint, wry
half-smile. "I think."

Salem smiles faintly. "You're welcome."

As they walk into the Montrose, she seems a little more at ease; the
Russian organization doesn't have a strong hold in this part of town. Not
yet.

At the front door to the building she turns on one heel, to face him, and
offers a gloved hand. The dark gaze meets his, shadowed with worry.
"Friends?"

Salem takes her hand, clasping it firmly. "Friends," he confirms.
"Always."

Rina grasps it for a moment before letting go. She gives a faint nod, and
then turns to let herself in. The lock buzzes, and then the glass door
swings closed behind her.