It is currently 18:14 Pacific Time on Wed Apr 27 2005. Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 70 degrees Fahrenheit (21 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the northeast at 8 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.77 and falling, and the relative humidity is 42 percent. The dewpoint is 46 degrees Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius.) Safehouse: GW Main Area Like the public safehouse, the foyer of the Glass Walker's private area is set off from the living room by a four-foot-high half-wall. The steps to the second floor disappear off to the left, mirroring the other set. There the similarities end - where the public area is painted unoriginal white, the walls of the Walker house are a dusty pastel teal above polished maple hardwood floors. A hallway leads back toward the kitchen, pausing at a computer room on the left outfitted with enough bells and whistles to satisfy a small LAN party. At the back of the house, through an arch, the kitchen is big enough to comfortably allow two active cooks and boasts a half-sized refrigerator and full pantry in addition to the usual stove/fridge/sink combination. A dining room, nearly as large as the kitchen, is set off by another half-wall like the one in the foyer. The furniture throughout the house is in better condition than next door, though only a few pieces are close to new. Stairs in the foyer lead up to the second floor, while a doorway tucked under the curve of the stairs heads down to the basement. A heavy door in the foyer with a monitor and intercom beside it goes back to the area set up for communal use by the Sept's Garou. [Jeremy rings Grey's cellphone.] You paged Jeremy with 'The phone's answered after a few rings. "Hello?" The speaker's voice is male, a deep baritone that the kin will likely not immediately recognize.'. Jeremy pages: Upon pick up, Jeremy says. "Hey, I need you." You paged Jeremy with 'There's a brief pause. "Jeremy? ...Are you in trouble?"'. Jeremy pages: I don't know yet. Harbor Park, please." Jeremy says, his voice hesitating for a moment. You paged Jeremy with 'The voice at the other end grunts, then says flatly, "I'll be as soon as I can." *click*'. 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. "He only bites if you make him. If I were you, I'd be easy on the temper and be 'very' honest to him when he arrives." Jeremy says as he continues to watch her out of the corner of his eye, keeping his hands out at his side. Both of Jeren's eyebrows lift this time, but somehow Jeremy's advice seems to make her less nervous, rather than more. "Ah. Well. It's very good I intend to be both honest and agreeable then." Jeremy nods his head slowly and settles back down in a seating position on the fountain's edge, propping his chin up in the palm of his hand. "That's good. Its healthier." He murmurs, reaching down to play with one of the chains that hang off his jeans. Jeren chuckles quietly, and with that most of her unease seems to slough off. She remains standing, with that one foot braced back against the side of the fountain, and with her hands in her jean pockets. After a moment she revives the rather stilted conversation, "...So, are you his brother? Or closer to a cousin?" "I don't know anymore." Jeremy says absently as he reaches down to scratch at his ankle, then leans back up, straightening some. "I'd say cousin. I'm not in the same game as him." He says, hooding his eyes some as he absently glances down to the cell phone read out, eyeing the time, then glances upwards to the retreating moon, staring at how big it is. Jeren follows Jeremy's glances, from phone to moon. She chews on the inside of her cheek this time, and shifts her weight--now the one foot comes down, and the other one is leaning against the fountain. Silence again. She's gone back to scanning the park at large. The goth goes quiet as well, letting the silence weigh heavy upon the pair as he lets his eyes drift about the park as well, squinting his eyes and placing his glasses back on. A tall figure in a knee-length grey trenchcoat begins making his way into the park from the street. He pauses, obviously looking around, then starts toward the goth and his current companion with long, smooth strides. All of Jeren's previous undercurrents of unease return, plus a little more, as she spies the figure entering the park. Her suspicions are confirmed as he turns toward them. A half-moment of cheek chewing, and then she leans off of the fountain and stands straight, hands still in her pockets. She gives the figure a very studied looking over. [Jeren] This woman is not tall, standing at only 5'1, possibly 5'2 if you're feeling generous. She has a slender frame, but with an athletic build--she looks like a runner, or a gymnast perhaps, and when she moves, it's with smoothed and balanced motions. While the shape of her features are predominantly Caucasian, her skin and hair coloring suggests at a slightly more exotic genetic background--but it is very unclear just what that might be. She has dusky skin that can't quite pass for brown or tanned, rather somewhere in between. Her hair is a silky black, but cropped at about chin length and layered. It's one of those haircuts that keep themselves in line without too much maintenance, or at least that's the idea. Overall her looks are pleasant enough, somewhat plain, and this is helped by the fact that she doesn't seem to bother with makeup any more than she does with elaborate hairstyles. A thin tracery of scars, possibly from some animal or another, arches over and around her left eye and into the hairline, with one spidery branch stretching dangerously over the eyelid itself, though there is nothing to suggest the eye is damaged. Her clothing consists of a white, sleeveless top tucked into the waist of a pair of non-descript jeans that are just baggy enough to not restrict her movements, but not so much that they're likely to trip her up. Over this is pulled a collared, button-up black shirt, completely unbuttoned, with the sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm. Generally she also wears a pair of fingerless, black leather gloves, somewhat more reinforced on the backside of the hands rather than the palm, which would be the norm. The legs of her jeans are tucked into a pair of plain brown hiking boots with black laceups that look as though they've seen a lot of use. Jeremy jerks his eyes over to Grey and stands up as well, making his way over. Instead of the typical energy he usually displays, he looks rather subdued and quiet. "Hey, Thomas.. this is Jeren from Colorado. Family. I haven't told her anything yet. Just been waiting on you." He shrugs and slips his hands into his pockets. ".. I hope I didn't disturb you." [Jeremy] Here stands a young man nearing the age of twenty-one, thin, pale, and not much to look at. When once he was a shy, mild mannered and ignored computer nerd who couldn't weigh much more then a hundred when wet, now stands the exact same person, yet, gothlike. The glasses on his face reveal the pair of blue eyes he bares. His black hair still sprawls out over his face, but no longer dipped in blonde about his bangs, just a solid darkness. His clothing has changed dramatically as well, having abandoned the button down shirts and slacks, replacing it with baggy dark jeans, a solid black shirt that simply reads: "Chicks dig scrawny pale guys" A long, ankle length trenchcoat billows about his thin frame, nearly cloaking him like a cape. Upon his feet is a pair of heavy steel toed boots, those which travel halfway up his calf. Chains adorn his jeans, three hanging off his wallet, and two more simply embedded into the fabric, jingling and clanking as he walks. To finish off his ungodly apparel, there is a leather collar bound around his neck, with a small metal skull dangling from the end of a steel hoop. Upon closer inspection, the new arrival looks pale and haggard, and his disheveled appearance suggests 'Bone Gnawer' rather than 'Glass Walker'... except for the fact that he doesn't smell like a dumpster or appear to have been recently diving in such. "Just healing up," he answers Jeremy, unsmilingly. "Once again, I must apologize for the hardware I destroyed last night." He's stopped well out of arm's length of the goth, but even seems not at all at ease; full-moon rage thrums beneath the surface of his rigid self-control. Jeren's eyes narrow very slightly, a thoughtful look crossing her face before she gives a faint incline of her head to the much taller man. "Sorry I dragged you out here. I wanted to go ahead and make contact before I managed to step on anyone's toes." And then, as if feeling a need to introduce herself even though Jeremy already has, she says, "My name's Jeren Harper. From Denver, originally, though I've been...all over that area." "It's not a big deal." Jeremy says with a shrug of his shoulders. "Its just stuff. It can be replaced." He murmurs, then hitches his shoulder and starts to move off. "I'll... let you two get acquainted.. thank you. Good night." He lets his eyes steal towards Jeren for a moment, before angling towards his silver new ride. "Good night," Grey says toward the departing kin. After a moment, he turns back to study Jeren more carefully, head turned slightly to favor his good eye over the blind one. "Thomas Grey. How is it you know him?" 'Him' obviously means the goth. Jeren nods slightly to Jeremy as he passes, obviously not finding the Kin's sudden departure at all unusual. And then her focus is back on Grey, more firmly than ever. "I don't--didn't," she corrects. "I mentioned to my former teacher I was heading up in this direction, and he dropped Jeremy's name and phone number as someone to get in contact with." Grey nods slightly, then takes a glance around the park, then up at the sky. Satisfied that there's no one within eavesdropping distance, he turns back to the stranger. "Why don't you give me your /full/ introduction," he says in a low voice. "And the name of the place you were trained." His tone suggests that he doesn't expect refusal. Jeren glances as well, even though Grey has just checked. There is just the very slightest hesitation on her next answer, before she says in an equally low voice, "Jeren Harper, Cliath Ragabash of the Glasswalkers, formerly of the Sept of the Eternal Sentinels. That's also where I was trained, though most of the time I spent in the safehouse in Denver proper. It's a long drive between there and the caern." Grey grunts. "Not much different here," he remarks dourly, before adding the rest of his own pedigree. "Philodox. Same rank, same tribe." He considers her for a few moments, his eyes narrowed. "Just arrived in town, I take it?" "Just," Jeren confirms. "About three hours ago, actually. Like I said, I wanted to avoid stepping on any toes." Grey slips one hand out of his coat pockets and pushes a lock of hair out of his eyes. "Mmh. Wise." He looks thoughtful for a moment, then takes a seat at the edge of the fountain. "So. What brings you to St. Claire?" Jeren 's tongue briefly touches her teeth. She remains standing, which might be a further sign that her uneasiness has heightened just a little more. "I needed a change of pace." This is true, but extremely vague. "...I broke with a packmate that I'd known since before I was Rited. We had a small falling out--parted on fair terms, or as fair as they get in those circumstances." "...Decided to make a fresh start of things?" Grey hazards. Jeren smiles faintly, without too much feeling behind the expression. "Yeah, that's about the measure of it." Jeren adds, "Both of us did, really. It was for the best." Grey nods slightly, his expression bland; it's hard to tell whether he approves or disapproves. One hand slips back into a coat pocket and removes a cellphone. "I'll warn you," he says, dialling a number from memory, "that our Elder is gibbous and extremely nosy. She'll drag details out of you." He finishes dialling and puts the phone to his ear. You paged Natalie with 'Ring ring.'. You paged Natalie with 'CallerID: Grey's cellphone.'. From afar, Natalie picks up on the second ring, her voice sleepy but puzzled. "Thomas? Where... what? Is it?" Her eyebrows tilt downward in a clear look of amusement at this. "Suppose she's doing her job well then," Jeren murmurs. "I'll have to make her work for them." Grey gives the woman a look that could mean anything, his mouth thinned. Then he speaks into the phone. "Jeremy got a call from someone new in town. Needed someone less delicate. Far as I can tell, she checks out." From afar, Natalie grunts once, glabro voice making the guttaral even more so. "Mnh. Bring her... bring her in, then. Can you take care of her? I'm just wiped." Whatever is meant is clearly not understood in any case. Jeren shifts again, hands still in her pockets, and much like during Jeremy's phone conversation with Grey, she appears to turn most of her attention back to the park, rather than show the appearance of eavesdropping. Long distance to Natalie: Grey hesitates. "You want her to have full access? Or just the public side?" Natalie pages: |Bleary, "I thought you said she'd been checked out." You paged Natalie with 'Well, she hasn't /lied/ to me.'. The park remains deserted; the sun being down combined with a poor local reputation allow the two Garou relative privacy. "You want her to have full access?" Grey asks the phone, sounding like he's asking for confirmation. "Or just the public side?" He listens for a moment, then grimaces. "Well, she hasn't /lied/ to me." Natalie pages: |It takes her a second, but the ramifications of that finally sink in with another grunt. "--Right. Public. And - find someone to sniff her. Please. Tell her... tell her I'll be over tomorrow to meet her." He can imagine her smearing a hand over her face, for her hext words are more muffled. "W's her name?" You paged Natalie with 'Jeren Harper. She'll be an associate of Tu's.'. This seems to suit Jeren just fine. In fact, she relaxes a little, even going so far as to slip back and lean against the fountain once more, looking upward. Not listening, really, ho hum. Natalie pages: Right. Thank you. Need anything else? You paged Natalie with '...No. Go back to sleep.'. Grey lowers his head and stares at the ground just in front of his sneakers, suddenly looking weary. Jeren hears her name mentioned, and that she's an associate of too's. Or maybe he said twos. Strange. Then he says, "...No. Go back to sleep," and finally there's an identifiable emotion in his voice. Guilt. It's faint, though. He looks back up, watching Jeren with hooded eyes. From afar, Natalie snorts, just once. "I should say the same to you. If Jer's still around, thank him for me too. An' tell Jeren 'welcome'. I'll make it official in the morning." A pause, then, but all she says is, "Walk safe, Thomas." Long distance to Natalie: Grey responds with, "Sleep well," and then clicks off. "Sleep well," says Grey into the cellphone, and then turns it off and slips it back into his coat pocket. "Do you have a car?" he asks Jeren as he pushes to his feet. A perceptive person will note that the movements stiffer than it was a moment ago. Jeren continues to feign non-interest until the conversation is ended, despite niggling curiosity. As the question is aimed at her she turns back to face Grey, and she can't help but give him yet another studious looking over. "I do," she replies. "Did you bring your own, or do you need a ride?" Grey says, "I'm parked just off the park. You can follow me to the safehouse." He starts walking off, slowly, his jaw tight. "Elder's indisposed for the moment, but you can still get a place to sleep and such." Jeren straightens up. "Sounds fine. I'm about a block down--give me a minute or so after you get to your car." And she offers no reason as to why she parked that far away, but turns and heads with a fairly swift trot toward the edge of the park. Grey's vehicle is a rather well cared-for 1970s Ford Torino, but would be more impressive if it was a color other than dirt-brown (or shit-brown, if one is feeling tactless). The drive into the uptown part of town is long; Grey takes a fairly circuituous route, preferring the city's less-used streets. Eventually, he pulls into the driveway of a large, rambling Victorian house. Jeren's car is much newer, a Honda Pilot, though with all the knicks and dings it's taken, on top of a clear need for a carwash to erase a layer of dust, it doesn't look too terribly much better than Grey's. It's a plain black in color (the better to follow you with, my dear), and she trails Grey all the way to the safehouse at a cautious distance. Grey is definitely moving stiffly when he climbs out of the Torino and heads for the front door of the main part of the house, and he's holding his left arm close to his side. His face is tight, his jaw clenched. "The house has three parts. One's an apartment for the kin who owns the mortgage. The one we're about to enter is semi-public, open to anyone in the Sept or," he glances at her, "guests who haven't been fully checked-out." He unlocks the door and opens it, gesturing Jeren inside. "We have a section just for our tribe, but you won't get access to that tonight." Safehouse: Common Area The foyer of this house is set off from the living room with its octagonal bump-out by a four foot high halfwall. Stairs lead up from the foyer, turning and disappearing to the right, and a steel door with a keycard lock claims the wall opposite the living room. The rest of the main floor is taken up by a small bathroom across the hallway from a dining room which is separated from the kitchen at the back of the house by another half-wall. The decor is decidedly sparse - white walls, beige carpeting in the living and dining rooms and down the hall, unremarkable vinyl in the foyer and kitchen. A used couch and a pair of recliners are grouped around a coffee table in the living room, with a foursome of wooden chairs claiming the bump out for quieter conversation. The dining room boasts a white laminate table with four aluminum and vinyl-upholstered chairs - too new to be 'vintage', too old to be trendy. The appliances and cupboards in the kitchen are new - or at least refurbished to look like it - and a door leads out to the backyard from there. Up the stairs are a number of empty rooms where anyone affiliated with the Sept can crash and an office for private meetings. The Glass Walkers have their own area accessible via a locked door off the foyer. The main doors themselves lead back out to the front porch of the house. There's a faint beeping once Jeren exits her own vehicle, followed by the obvious click of automatic locks. She steps into the house without hesitation as the door is opened, but a close eye might note that from the point where she steps over the threshold, to the point where she steps beyond it, she's suddenly, inexplicably tense. And then, seeing the interior of the house, she relaxes again. She even half smiles. "It's been a while since I stayed in a place this nice," the woman remarks. Grey closes the door behind them. He, at least, seems to relax minutely -- and we do mean 'minutely'; Grey seems terribly tightly-wound, though perhaps it's just the obvious pain he's in since the Gift wore off. "You can thank the Elder's mate for that, if you meet him. And Natalie herself, since she organized and did much of the renovations." He gestures, directing her attention to the living room area, the hallway deeper into the house, and the stairs. "Have a seat, if you like. Kitchen's down that way, and guest bedrooms are upstairs. Make yourself at home." For his part, he seems keen on sitting down, though he sheds the trenchcoat first. "Thank you." Jeren crosses to the furthest of the two recliners and allows herself to drop into it with a small sigh. "I was not built for long-distance driving. Especially not on these moons." She pauses as a thought occurs to her, and asks, "How's the neighborhood crime? I should probably get a few things out of the car before I settle too much." Grey settles himself gingerly on the couch, wincing. Now that the coat's off, she can see the edges of some rather nasty-looking bite-marks around his neck, like something big had choked him with its jaws. "This part of town's safe enough." And it is, to judge by the big houses and shiny cars they'd passed on the street the Victorian's on. Jeren nods. "Just my bag then, and the laptop." This is said more for herself than Grey, though a moment later she's studying him again, lips pursed, expression thoughtful. "Hnn, I'd offer you some Ibuprofen, but I don't think it would help much." Grey glances toward the curtained windows, then slowly bulks up into Glabro form. "I'll be fine," he says curtly, his voice dropping from a fairly cultured tenor to a growling baritone. "So, how are things in Denver?" There's that eyebrow quirk again--Jeren's found something funny, but she doesn't voice it. Instead she answers the question, "Dirty and dangerous, like most every big city these days. It's a swarming pit for leeches though," nose wrinkle. Grey grimaces, the expression fearsome on his now-brutish features. "They're less of a problem here, though we do sometimes get a few." He shifts his weight, then takes out his cellphone -- transferred from coat to sweats, apparantly -- and starts dialling a number. "No real power structure." You paged Alicia with 'Ringie-dingie. CallerID's probably unfamiliar, since I don't think Grey's used this cellphone to call her 'til now.'. From afar, Alicia picks up the phone. "Hello?" She asks, her voice curious. Jeren nods. "A few don't bother me, so long as they don't go out /trying/ to bother me. They've been in Denver for a long time though, and there's a whole lot more of them there than there has ever been of us. Still--" She reaches up to rub at the base of her neck, "It's been a while since I spent a lot of time there. Or any city this size for that matter. I can tell getting used to all the people again is going to take a little while." You paged Alicia with 'The voice is a growling baritone that the Coggie's heard a few times. "Alicia? It's Grey." His manner is all business. "Do you have a moment? We've got a new member of the family in town who needs to be checked out."'. Grey nods slightly. "It's fortunate, then, that St. Claire's not as big as New York or L.A. Pardon me a moment." He speaks into the cellphone. "Alicia? It's Grey. Do you have a moment? We've got a new member of the family in town who needs to be checked out." The mismatched eyes, which had looked down while he talked, turn back up to the Ragabash, feral and intent. From afar, Alicia lets out a quick breath. "Sure, I can do that. No problem. Ya'at the safehouse, right?" You paged Alicia with 'Naturally. And, thank you.'. Jeren doesn't make a play of not listening this time, fully content to sit in the chair and work the various kinks out of her neck that she can actually reach. While she's doing that, she's making an odd play with her other hand--flexing the muscles in her fingers, then her palm, then her forearm, and so on until she starts with the fingers again. Grey thanks the person at the other end of the line, hangs up, and repockets the cell. "Just a precaution. Make sure you're not carrying any taint. You understand." He leans back against the couch cushions. "Ever fought a vampire directly?" "Of course," Jeren replies. "It never hurts to be cautious." Her lips purse. "A few times; not by myself. They were unpleasant enough company that I'm not exactly jumpy to go after one--but necessary is necessary." Grey nods. "You'll find that those in charge of the Sept take the traditionalist view." His mouth thins out, heavy brows lowering. "What other experience have you had?" Jeren leans forward, cupping her hands and resting her chin on them. "Spirals," and this name is said with clear, unmasked disgust. "We ran into them numerous times. Not /in/ Denver itself, at least not more than once, but around Boulder and in and out of the National Park. Apart from them--mm. When my pack and I moved northward, we ended up dealing with a decent number of formori, tainted animals, human poachers--that sort of thing." There is a thumping upon the door from outside, a quick rapping. Grey grunts. "The usual, then." He looks up at the knock, then pushes to his feet with a grimace and goes to the door. A quick check to see who's outside, and then he opens it to let Alicia in, taking care to keep his Glabro'd self out of view. "Thanks for coming so quickly," he rumbles to the newcomer, his manner deferent. Jeren's eyes dart to the door at the knock, and she falls silent. The Ragabash remains seated in the chair, chin in cupped hands, but she's tensed again; wary. Striding into the house is the Child of Gaia Elder, pulling her hair back behind her shoulder. Alicia glances over at Grey for a moment, brows lifting, then clears her throat. "Looks like you had a wild night." She says simply, arms crossing over her chest as her eyes glance towards Jeren, studying her. "Full moon," the Philodox grunts, closing the door behind Alicia. He nods toward Jeren. "Fresh from Denver." Jeren studies Alicia in return, and every bit, if not more, carefully. "My clothes might disagree with the fresh part," she quips as she leans back. "I'm Jeren Harper, Cliath Ragabash." "I am Alicia Jackson, Fostern Galliard and Elder for the Children of Gaia. I am a daughter of Stag with the pack Resonance, ran under the Sept Alpha herself, Megan O' Brien. I am also the Grounds Keeper for the Sept." The young woman nods her head firmly. "Been serving the Sept of Hidden Walk for four years now." Grey folds his arms across his chest and remains standing, his head slightly lowered and his hair partially in his eyes. Jeren manages a small smile. "It's good to meet you, Alicia-rhya." She threads her fingers together over one knee and lets her eyes drop. After a quick sniff of the air, Alicia nods her head slowly, then glances over to Thomas. "She's cool." She murmurs, hitching her thumbs into the belt loops of her baggy jeans. Grey exhales a breath and nods. "Natalie'll be pleased to hear it. How are things out toward the caern?" "They are going alright. Not much is happening to be honest, everything seems quiet. Haven't had any attacks of tainted animals lately." Alicia says as she licks her lips. "I'm getting bored, waiting on some new news." Grey grunts. "Last I heard, Brom was organizing an attack at the source." Jeren has fallen silent again. However, she's clearly listening with interest. Alicia nods her head. "Not much for Resonance to do to be honest. Half the pack is knocked up and well.. Yi has taken charge of the other half of the attack." She says with a slight grin. "Someone has to stick behind and watch the Caern while the warriors go play. You going with 'em?" Broad shoulders lift and fall. "I've been invited. The Get wants a sniper." Maybe it's just him being jaded, but Grey doesn't sound all that excited. "Take out the head, hope the rest fall into disarray, that sort of thing." Jeren grunts and murmurs, "Disarray or frenzy." "Sounds reasonable enough. Its how we got the Spirals when those fuckers messed with us last time." Alicia says, glancing between the two of them, then rolls her shoulders. "Typically when you take out the leader, the rest of the minions all kinda go W.T.F." She says the letters, offering a quick grin. "What I wouldn't give to get my claws dirty." Grey cuts a sidelong look toward Jeren at her comment, then turns his gaze back to Alicia. "There's still the hospital," he points out. Jeren waves her hand, as if dismissing what she's just said, and returns to her previous silence. "Which I am definitely signed up for." Alicia says with a sharp nod of her head. "I've been itching to poke at it now for freaking years." Grey grunts. "From what I've heard, you'll be needed." He adds, for the benefit of the newcomer, "Nexus Crawler squatting in the Umbra at the center. Plenty of vileness otherwise, too." He glances to Alicia for confirmation. Long distance to the room: Grey gives half-hour-thereabouts warning before he turns pumpkin. "Pleasant," Jeren remarks dryly. Nodding her head, Alicia lets out a sigh. "Yeah, Nexus Crawler and the entire place is a one giant Blight. The last time we went in there, took four powerful packs to even scratch it. I don't know what we're ganna do now, but Tobin has been investigating this. Now that Jana died a few days ago.. I'm not sure how they are going to approach this since she was leading the operation." Caterpiller-like eyebrows pull together in puzzlement. "What happened?" Tobin, Jana...Jeren is only recognizing 'Nexus Crawler' and 'giant Blight' out of most of this. She's begun that muscle flexing exercise again--both hands this time, fingers, palms, forearms, upper arms, shoulders, repeat. Really, it's an excuse to fidget. "I don't know all the details, from what I was told, Cole will be telling the full story during moot. Looks like Birdseye went into the Umbra and picked a fight with something big. She's the only one that didn't come out." Alicia says. "I'll poke at Auggie again now that its been a few days and maybe he's in a better state." Grey rubs absently at his abused neck, grimacing. "They have my sympathies," he says roughly. Long distance to the room: Grey is /definitely/ heading for bed soon. Took me way too long to formulate that tiny little pose. :P Jeren's twitching ends with her abruptly pushing up and out of the recliner. She clears her throat and murmurs something that sounds vaguely like 'getting bag' and 'car' before she starts toward the door. A minor distraction. Alicia glances over to Jeren, then back to Grey. "Looks like the new girl either got a soft stomach." She says with a feral grin upon her lips, then nods her head. "I'll pass your sentiments to them later. I'm going to take off and check on my family before bed." Grey steps aside to let Jeren out to fetch her things from her car. He nods to the Child of Gaia. "Walk safe." He dips his head, not quite a bow. From outside comes the jingle of keys, the 'beep beep' noise of the SUV being unlocked, and the sound of the door being pulled open. Jeren takes several moments to lean up against the side of the car and just look upward, before she turns back and fetches the mentioned bag and laptop case from under the passenger-side seat. "You too T, take care of yourself." Alicia steps out into the cool air, letting out a soft breath, then makes her way down the driveway, glancing over to the new Ragabash. "So, Jeren.. maybe I'll catch up with you later?" Jeren offers Alicia a brief not-quite-smile grimace as she lugs the two items out of the vehicle. "I'm sure we'll see each other soon, once I get settled," she agrees. "Again, it was nice meeting you."