It is currently 20:30 Pacific Time on Fri Mar 25 2005.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 52 degrees
      Fahrenheit (11 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the 
      north at 9 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.15 and falling, and 
      the relative humidity is 56 percent. The dewpoint is 37 degrees 
      Fahrenheit (2 degrees Celsius.)
Currently the moon is in the waning Full Moon phase (96% full).

Harbor Park -- The Meadow
One of the last bastions of green left in the city, mottled and withered grass
      and weeds covers the earth like a badly stained carpet, with the 
      construction work turning what is left into just bare dirt. The 
      vegetation seems marginally healthier the further it is from the river 
      and much healthier towards the central area of the park around the 
      fountain. Construction work is ongoing here: a raised earthen berm about 
      five feet tall is being built all around the park perimeter, with two 
      breaks each at the Bridge Street entrance and the First Street end. 
      Wooden posts are being erected at regular intervals all along the earthen 
      wall, while tasteful iron gates and fences are being added at the 
      entrances. Overpowering the scent of living vegetation are the exhaust 
      fumes from a busy street to the west and an unpleasant stench from the 
      Columbia River to the east. From the street view or river view, the park 
      is now isolated, as if it existed apart from the city. People in tall 
      buildings have an excellent view of any goings-ons for now, though. In 
      the center of the park, a small glade of six tall trees and a flower bed 
      surrounds the fountain.
The murky waters of the Columbia River flow swiftly along the east side of the
      park. Bracketing the park to the west is First Street and the city of St. 
      Claire.

The sun's not long below the horizon, but still a little light clings to the
      western sky. Of course, with the cloud cover and the abundance of city 
      lights, twilight still clings to the evening. Harbor Park's fairly quiet, 
      though, thanks to the terrible reputation the place has, and Thomas Grey 
      is, currently, taking advantage of the place's unpopularity to wander 
      down near the river. A lit cigarette dangles from his lips, trailing 
      smoke, and his expression is pensive and withdrawn.
Two young kids of varying ethnicity have arrived into the park and head towards
      the fountain. Rising from the bench she was sitting on, Joey begins a 
      path that will lead her right up to them. There is a casual friendliness 
      between them, smiles and nods exchanged. The Gnawer rises up on tippy 
      toes to give a quick hug to one of them, which the boy pulls into a 
      rather gruff kiss. Something beyond physical attention is exchanged as 
      well, but only the most perceptive might notice the quick slight of hand.
Grey glances over, his attention snagged by the happy little commotion. He
      watches from a distance with the hard, cold, unforgiving expression of a 
      cop. He's not dressed the part, this is true, and there isn't anyone on 
      St. Claire's police force with scars like his, like a violent encounter 
      with a big dog, but the look on his face is the same.
The three share a few laughs with each other, the tallest boy wrapping an arm
      around the young girl. A hand gives a brash grope to her bottom and 
      another exchange of lips follows. The smaller boy, perhaps only thirteen, 
      rolls his eyes and begins arm slapping his companion, and soon after the 
      group parts their ways. Joey watches them leave for a moment, before 
      leading herself back to the bench and fiddling in her pockets.
Grey continues to watch, smoking his cigarette. Only when the two boys have
      left does he start toward the remaining member of the trio -- Joey. Long 
      legs, long strides; though he's not hurrying especially, he's closing the 
      distance between them pretty quickly.
Joey glances up at the sight of motion, double-taking when she realizes it is
      heading her way. A moment passes as she seems to ponder her next course 
      of action, and she ends up staying put. Her hands remain in her pockets, 
      but she watches the person approach her now. Finally close enough to see 
      who it is, she squints curiously and clears her throat. "Nice night."

[Joey]
	A dark haired teenager with the beginnings of maturity in her eyes. She stands
      at a modest 5'2" and is of average build; neither skinny as a twig, nor 
      plump in any fashion. A line of fading freckles saddles over her nose, 
      blending in with the darker hue of her skintone. Her hair has a natural 
      wave to it and hangs down past her shoulders, and her eyes are a rather 
      plain brown.
	She often has a bounce to her step and a smile on her face. Her eyes are warm
      and filled with a look of contentment and happiness, though also quite 
      alert of her surroundings.

"So it is," the Glass Walker replies, curtly. Mismatched eyes stare down at her
      for a moment -- he's over a foot taller than the young Bone Gnawer -- 
      before he speaks again. "Didn't I see you at the meeting the other night?"
Joey licks at her lips, nodding faintly. "Yah, I was there. By Olga." The
      Gnawer seems to quickly settle into her most performed role: submissive. 
      Her eyes glance up only briefly as he speaks to her, more often resting 
      at his chest level or the ground around them.
Grey nods. "So, you're one of hers?" The authoritive attitude is something that
      comes quite naturally to him. It's the aura of supreme self-control... 
      and the high-quality breeding doesn't hurt. His manner is neither overtly 
      hostile nor terribly friendly.
Joey sniffs noisily and nods, "Yah, as much as I can be." Her hands remain in
      her pockets, though her shoulders bunch up from time to time in a nervous 
      fidget.
Grey grunts. He stares down at her for another long few seconds. His next
      question will, quite likely, take the Ragabash by surprise. "How's 
      Squeaks?"
Joey looks up suddenly at this, as if a sudden bolt of lightning flashed over
      head. "Uh. Good." She hesitates, unsure if this is a trick question or 
      not. "I mean, good as she can be. Getting big. She's a real handful."
Grey's eyebrows lift slightly beneath the unkempt black hair. Give it another
      couple of weeks, and it'll be in his eyes. "So, she's healthy. Apt to 
      make it to her firsting, you think?"
Joey gives a more heartfelt nod at that. "Damn straight she will. I haven't
      been taking her tantrums and little fits for the past year for nothing. I 
      wish she'd grow up faster sometimes, so she can catch up and pack up with 
      me."
Grey doesn't show even the smallest smile, though his expression seems to
      lighten up, if only a bit. "That's good, at least." He sets the cigarette 
      back between his lips and reaches into the front pocket of his BDU's. "No 
      word from her mother, I presume?" he asks around the cigarette.
Joey shakes her head, "Not that I know of. I never even met her. An' Olga don't
      talk much about it really. She talks pretty good now, Squeaks. Well, in 
      the tongue." She grins a little, "It's cute."
The Glass Walker utters a neutral-sounding grunt. "Children usually are." Now
      his wallet's out, interestingly enough, and he's opening it. "I doubt I'd 
      be welcome on your turf," he says, his eyes on what he's doing rather 
      than on her. "Which is fair, all things considered." When he looks back 
      at Joey, there's a twenty-dollar bill in his hand, and his expression's 
      turned harsh again. "Now. I'm going to give you this, but first I need a 
      couple of promises from you."
Joey looks at the crisp bill, nose quivering as if she could smell it. She
      looks up and nods eagerly, regardless of what the promises are.
"One," says Thomas Grey, still holding the twenty like a biscuit to a dog,
      "that you spend at least /half/ of this on something for Squeaks. Food, a 
      toy, something to chew on... whatever. Use your best judgement. Two, that 
      you tell /no one/ that this came from me." His gaze sharpens on her. 
      "Give me your word of honor on this, and it's yours."
Joey nods her head eagerly, "Aw hell yah. I swear on everything I hold dear,
      not a word. I promise." The girl has perked up quite visibly now, her 
      eyes eagerly following the motion, or lack there of, of the money.
Grey's lips stretch into something that's really nothing like a smile. It shows
      a hint of even white teeth. "I'm going to hold you to that," he says, 
      with a distinct note of threat. Then the twenty is lowered, held out to 
      her.
Joey is about to be grabby, but stops herself just in time to reach out the
      rest of the way slowly. "Thank you, I always wanna buy stuff for her, and 
      never can. I really do promise she'll get something outta it." She stuffs 
      the money into her front jeans pocket then, "You should come by and see 
      her sometime. After I get the toy."
Grey's no longer showing his teeth, though his expression remains less than
      friendly. "No. Thank you." Firm, but courteous, albeit in an aloof sort 
      of way. "Trust me. Your elder and kin would /not/ appreciate my presence."
Joey seems to deflate a little at this, but gives a 'you know best' nod.
      "A-ahlright. Well, I could let ya in on a little secret then, since ya 
      seem to actually care about the girl." She looks around as if someone 
      would actually approach them to eavesdrop. "In the summer, we take her 
      out into the woods, actually, pretty soon we will. Up by Lake Arthur. Let 
      her run around and stuff, get out into the daylight."
Grey's eyes narrow thoughtfully. "Do you now." He inhales a lungful of smoke
      and lets it drift out of his mouth, dragonlike. "Interesting."
Joey nods, "Yah we had her up there last summer. She loved it. Sometimes I got
      babysitting duty, and if ya wanted, I mean, I can tell you when I do- if 
      you don't wanna let on to others you were there?" The Ragabash seems to 
      be quite intent on being helpful.
Grey takes another drag off the cancer stick while he considers this. "Mm. I
      think that'd be acceptable." Once again, he sets the cig in his mouth and 
      lets it dangle there while he reaches into his coat. "Let me see your 
      hand."
Joey is again hesitant, but does as the older man bids her. The dirty palm of
      the Gnawer comes out nervously, displaying it in more of a surrender 
      position than a ready for hand out one.
Grey takes out nothing more frightening than a black felt-tip pen. With his
      left hand, he takes hold of the Gnawer and pushes back her sleeve enough 
      to reveal her wrist. There, a little off from the blue tracery of veins, 
      he writes seven numbers. "My cell," he explains, and then releases her. 
      "Share it with no one." He straightens up, caps the pen, and puts it away.
Joey looks down at her arm with an odd, scrunched up face. She nods again, "Ok.
      I'll memorize it, so it's not lost in the next rain," she grins a little. 
      "Hey, thanks a bunch. I'm gonna go hit the store before they close!"
"Good," the Glass Walker says with a curt nod. "I'll leave you to it, then."
Joey nods her head, eager and full of energy now. She turns with a hop-skip and
      starts jogging away, calling back another sincere, "Thank you!" Her feet 
      carry her quickly down the street and towards a convenient store.
Grey lifts one hand briefly in farewell, then drops it. He watches the young
      Gnawer race off with his hands in his pockets, and when she's out of 
      view, he turns away and prowls back down toward the river.