It is currently 21:21 Pacific Time on Wed Jun 8 2005.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is mostly cloudy. The temperature is 61 degrees
      Fahrenheit (16 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the 
      north at 6 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.93 and steady, and 
      the relative humidity is 64 percent. The dewpoint is 49 degrees 
      Fahrenheit (9 degrees Celsius.)
Currently the moon is in the waxing New Moon phase (12% full).

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 wooden 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.

"Yeah, I was gonna ask about that. Well," Kaz amends, "The set up in general.
      Anyone can crash in here? Do we gotta kinda tell you folks we're around? 
      Is the Walker side totally only Walkers, or do some folks get invited in 
      sometimes? What're the rest've the rules?" She pauses. Briefly. "Have I 
      been a social moron yet?"

Though it's well past nine o'clock, Grey's car is only now returning to its
      usual parking space in the driveway. The Torino's engine is sounding a 
      little rough tonight; maintenence will be in order, and soon. Motor and 
      headlights turn off, and then everything's quiet outside for a bit.

Jeren settles into her chair, bending one leg under the other. The cup of
      coffee? Apparently she seems to think it's some sort of scented 
      handwarmer, because she's still just holding it, though in two hands now 
      instead of just the one. "Yeah, that's what this part of the house is 
      for. Anyone can crash here, we only lock the doors at night, and if you 
      stay longer than a night we'd like to know about it. Hrr, cubs need 
      permission from their elders, obviously. And if you stay more than a few 
      days we'd like some tit for tat--helping out with chores, or groceries, 
      or things like that. Walker side is solely for Walkers. No shifting 
      within view of the windows, and only homid or glabro here on the main 
      floor, but there's no problem with taking any other form down in the 
      basement." She pauses, possibly at the sound of Grey's car, or just to 
      gather her thoughts. "Social moron?"

"Well, it's possible you don' wanna talk business while you're lookin' as if
      you'd rather be asleep, is all I meant." Kaz shrugs. "Anyways. Um. Given 
      as I ain't found a place t'call my own yet, I think I'll just start 
      bringin' groceries a lot." She moves from her chair to the couch, where 
      she perches on its arm. "Stuff's good t'know, in case I run int' more new 
      folks."

A key rattles in the lock, and then in comes Thomas Grey in black slacks and
      dress shirt and loosened tie -- work clothes, in other words, and 
      smelling like a smoker's convention. He pauses to shut the door behind 
      him and turn the locks; distracted, he doesn't notice that the safehouse 
      has a visitor.

Jeren's eyebrows arch--she still somehow manages to look tired and droopy eyed
      while doing it, but there's something tugging one end of her mouth 
      upward. "Sounds just grand to me. And no, you aren't, I just managed to 
      drop off in the middle of the evening news."

Kaz says, with faint embarrassment skulking around the edges, though mostly
      cheerfully, "Well, I'm a Gnawer, after all. But I like a shower just as 
      much as the next person."

Grey glances over at the sound of voices and stares rather bemusedly over at
      Kaz from the other side of the half-wall.

The other end of Jeren's mouth joins in on the upward twitching. "--Just don't
      run off with all the hot water."

Kaz says, defensively, "I do," to Grey. "It's why I hung out at the Rialto, we
      had that nifty illegal water connection." Then she does a mild double 
      take, and adds, "Hey, yo, hi. Just visitin'. I wanted t'get th' rules set 
      in my head, and stuff. Wanna donut?"

Grey frowns. "The Rialto had running water? Barlow never mentioned that to
      /me/." He moves to join the other two, giving Jeren a sidelong, 
      unreadable look as he takes a chair.

Kaz says, vaguely, "It was downstairs. And kinda hidden. And only occasionally
      worked. But hey, it was better'n two weeks of nothin'."

Jeren hesitates, and then seems to finally remember the untouched cup in her
      hands. She offers it to Grey. "Coffee? Oh, hey, Kaz, saves me hunting you 
      down for this at least...do you know how many, if anyone, in the Gnawers 
      has the gift of sensing Wyrm taint?"

Grey grunts in reply to Kaz, still looking mildly irritated for some reason or
      another. He automatically accepts the cup from Jeren, but pauses with it 
      near his lips, not yet taking a sip. He brings it back down, eyeballing 
      it warily, and then her.

Kaz shakes her head. "Dunno who all in the crew has it. Well, I mean. Other'n
      me. Whatcha want?"

"I don't drink coffee," Jeren says by way of explanation. Then she adds, "--Kaz
      brought it." You know. Just to relieve any suspicions to the effect of 
      her fumbling through medicine cabinets again. To Kaz, she shakes her 
      head. "I don't need it. I just need to know who in this Sept has it. So 
      it's you and possibly Olga for the Gnawers."

Grey, of course, couldn't possibly have any knowledge of Jeren putting things
      in people's drinks. Maybe he's just suspicious; he glances to Kaz for 
      confirmation as to the coffee's origin before drinking.

"An' possibly Does Things The Wrong Way, too, but I ain't asked her what kinda
      Gifts she has. It seems impolite to ask someone who's just foretold your 
      future without even blinking what Gifts she has. Kinda banal, y'know?" 
      Kaz pauses and blinks at Jeren. "Uh, no," she tells Grey, "'s mine. Or 
      was. Does Things Th' Wrong Way, if you ain't met her, is a Fostern 
      theurge Gnawer. Lupus. Weird ass an' wonderful."

A key turns in the lock, and the front door is shoved open to admit one sweaty
      Cy, wearing headphones, with a rather expensive-looking bicycle hoisted 
      over one shoulder. The scruffy cub maneuvers her way inside humming 
      tunelessly under her breath, then kicks the door shut behind her.

Grey lifts the cup to Kaz in a kind of mild salute, then, takes a drink from
      it, and then leans back in his chair with the air of a man who's had a 
      very long day, and most of it on his feet.

Jeren nods once. "Wrong Way, that's who I was forgetting. Yeah, I met her a
      week or two before the Moot--she ended up getting a burger and half a bag 
      of peanuts out of me. Her vision seems to have the Get in a bit of a 
      tizzy."

"What, all of 'em at once? Why? Other than it's fuckin' depressin'." Kaz slides
      down into an actual seat, and rummages in her pocket for a Coke. Once she 
      produces it, she salutes Cy with it in greeting. "Hey, yo."

Grey belatedly notices Cy and turns his good eye toward her, searching and
      possibly critical.

"It involves Signe and the hospital, according to Dillen and Brom." Jeren
      flicks a glance toward the door, acknowledging Cy's presence with a 
      slight nod, but nothing else. "Signe's supposed to organize and carry out 
      a raid on the hospital as part of her Adren challenge. So visions 
      involving her and lots of blood don't sit well with them."

Spotting the trio in the living room, the young Philodox deposits the bike
      against the Walker's sanctum door and circles the half-wall, raking 
      sweaty hair from her eyes. "Hey," she greets vaguely, adjusting the 
      weight of the bulging messenger bag strapped to her back. Her manner 
      seems uncharacteristically mild as she sniffs the air once, then zeroes 
      in on the bag next to Kaz. "Donuts?"

Kaz looks baffled. "How'd they conclude Signe was involved from what Does
      Things Th' Wrong Way said? She talked about fish meltin' an' blood 
      breakin', t'/me/." In mute answer to Cy's question, she tosses the bag at 
      her.

Grey turns his attention from Cy to Kaz, and his mouth takes on a cynical
      downward twist. "Anything /useful/ in said vision?"

Cy catches the tossed bag reflexively, then plops herself cross-legged on the
      floor next to Grey's armchair as she goes rummaging for something 
      chocolate.

"Dillen said," Jeren says carefully, though without being able to avoid the
      small hint of skepticism in her tone, "That Wrong Way saw Signe 
      specifically in her vision. Standing around a bunch of cars while the 
      windows of the hospital filled up with blood. When I spoke with her she 
      didn't go into any real details, she just said..." The Ragabash pauses, 
      squinting at the ground and clearly wracking her brain for the exact 
      wording. "'Darkness falls. Mirrors shatter. Shards of blood fall into the 
      darkness, and the birth is coming.' She was trying to get into contact 
      with Megan-rhya right away."

Kaz nods. "Yeah, she tol' me, um--" Kaz pauses, and her intonation becomes
      somewhat more formal. "'Building. Tall, large, many people, much glass. 
      Blood fills the windows. Green fish swim within. Fish melt. Blood breaks. 
      Glass spills.' But I mean, I figure she's gettin' more focus on it alla 
      time. She certainly was pretty spot on about what she said about /me/, 
      anyways." Kaz taps the Coke, and then realizes, "Oh, hey, so what's the 
      rest of Signe's Challenge?"

Grey shakes his head slightly, thin-lipped and obviously skeptical. "You mean
      besides the hospital?" He takes another swallow of still-warm coffee, 
      glances at Cy, then back at Kaz.

Jeren grunts, drumming her fingers against her bent knee. "She's got to bring
      that kid to term. Which is just a grand combination, right there, have a 
      kid and carry out an attack on a shithole like the hospital at the same 
      time." Another noise, this one clearly annoyed, forms in the back of her 
      throat. "Brom was talking about calling up his old Sept and seeing if 
      they'd send a 'powerful Godi' our way. You know. Because there's a 
      godzilla sized Nexus Crawler sitting on top of the building."

Munching on an enormous chocolate frosted, Cy is quiet as she listens to the
      older Garou talk. She holds the donut bag up towards Grey invitingly, but 
      stays silent.

Grey nods, backing up Jeren's words, not smiling a bit. He glances down at Cy
      and gives his head a shake. Apparently, he's not hungry. Or at least not 
      for donuts.

Kaz says, while opening the Coke, "Oh, yeah, that oughta be entertain--" She
      stops abruptly. "Wait," she says, carefully. "Jeren. What was that you 
      said?"

Somewhere around the last sentence, the lock clicks and the door opens a
      little. "Did I just hear somebody say nexus crawler?" says a hoarse voice 
      that's perhaps recognizable. "Sounds like a party. Count me in."

"Which bit?" Jeren asks. "The giant Nexus Crawler or Brom thinking one single
      Theurge is going to be able to go head to head with it?" Her head lifts 
      at the sound of a very faintly familiar voice, and she looks toward the 
      door. "Oh, hey."

Rina slips inside through the narrow opening, helmet dangling from her wrist.
      Her eyes are hazy, and at first unlikely to leave the floor--but 
      something gets her notice, and she looks up, her brow furrowing as she 
      notes the number of people in the living room. She blinks, staring at Kaz 
      for a moment; then she looks over to Grey, questioning.

Kaz waves a hand, as if to say, 'go backwards.' "No, the part about Signe."

"Signe's having a baby," says Grey flatly, before turning to look over at Rina.
      His expression lightens, but he still doesn't smile.

Jeren ahhs. "She's pregnant. Erhrm, very pregnant, I assume, considering she
      was showing when I last saw her."

Cy pauses in her quest for a second donut, even though she's only halfway
      through her first. Around a mouthful of sugar, she pipes up: "Whaffa 
      Nessus Crawla?" She hasn't noticed any kinfolk entrance yet.

"You don't wanna know yet, hon," Rina says dryly. "And yes. Signe is having a
      baby. She's big as a house." The dark eyes study Kaz, taking in details 
      with the artist's customary sharpness.

"That's what I thought you said." Kaz sounds equal parts amused, terrified, and
      shell-shocked. "Megan," she says, half-desperately. "Megan's got quite a 
      sense of humor." There's a pause. "Signe pregnant. Do I actually wanna 
      stay in this city while Signe's pregnant? I mean, the unexpressed Rage 
      all by itself..." She trails off, silent.

"Giant reality-warping Bane," Grey explains to Cy. "Very bad news." He has
      nothing to say in regards to Signe and drinks more of his coffee instead.

Jeren drums her fingers on her knee for a moment longer, and then starts to
      stand up. "Alright, so we've nearly got a party now. Anything any of you 
      want from the kitchen?"

"Jesus H. Christ on a pogo stick," mutters Kaz. She shakes her head abruptly,
      and then (finally) notices Rina. "Huh. You look like shit." She actually 
      has the grace to look embarrassed and adds, "And, also, HI there. Ain't 
      seen you in a coon's age. Which would be because I ain't /been/ here in a 
      coon's age. 'Sup?"

"Milk," Cy requests promptly, towards Jeren. She shifts her attention between
      Rina, Grey, and Kaz thoughtfully, and licks chocolate from her fingers.

Rina swallows, and offers the woman a pale smile. "Thanks," she says dryly.
      "You stayin'? Cause we sure as hell could use you."

Grey swallows the last of his coffee and then leans over to set the empty cup
      on the coffee table. Afterward, he slouches back in his chair, shifting 
      his weight and stretching tired muscles.

Jeren pauses a moment, to catch any other forthcoming orders. Then she fairly
      trots toward the kitchen, with one hand trying to brush down the 
      one-sided spike look her hair is currently sporting.

"Um. That's debateable. Theoretically, I got a message for someone who is, and
      I quote, "Somewhere in the Umbra, last seen in Georgia," but th' Stone 
      ain't picked 'em up, an' I ain't really up for a yearslong quest through 
      the Umbra just to deliver th' news that th' dipshit's mother just died. 
      They can figure it out on their own. An'--" Kaz shrugs minutely. "Y'need 
      th' help. An'... It don't hurt no more." She stares at the can of Coke 
      mulishly, and adds, with sudden humor in her voice, "A seer tol' me this 
      was my last stop. Can't disappoint th' seer, can I?"

Grey grunts. "Depends on the seer." He tilts his good eye up toward Rina,
      looking her over with an expression of muted -- cautious, really -- 
      concern.

Cy continues to chew her donuts in silence, listening to the conversation
      curiously without taking part.

Rina shrugs out of her jacket, laying it over the half-wall and avoiding eyes.
      The helmet she sets down just under it, on the floor.

Jeren returns after a few moments, with two tall glasses of milk--Cy's is
      offered mutely, while the other she's already began to sip at. "--'Last 
      stop'? Wrong Way has a nice way with words for a lupus, doesn't she?"

Grey folds his arms across his chest. "City lupus are usually smarter than wild
      ones. More complex world." His mouth thins. "Though there are exceptions."

"Well, it's got about 5 zillion interpretations, most of which come down to,
      "You're gonna diiiiie here," or "you're gonna live here for a long time, 
      in happy contemplation, an' turn into a fuckin' Gran'Mama." Me, I kinda 
      figure I'll take the latter. I mean, if I don' wanna be freaked out about 
      it, an' all." Kaz stares at her Coke again, and then shakes her head 
      abruptly. She opens the Coke, and gives Cy a look. "So you was askin' me 
      stuff, last time I saw you."

"She's the first one I've met," Jeren admits, just before taking another sip of
      her milk. "City lupus, that is. If you can even really call our brief 
      interaction 'meeting'. She was pretty focused on talking to Megan." 
      Pause. "--Hey, Rina." She repeats the offer from before, "Do you want 
      something from the kitchen? A drink or a snack?"

The Philodox cub blinks at Kaz, cheeks bulging with donut. She looks
      thoughtful, then gulps down the rest of the bite she was working on. 
      "Yeah," she agrees. "Metis stuff."

Rina glances to Jeren, and gives a small shake of her head. "No," she answers
      quietly, "no, thanks, I'm fine."

Kaz says, "Oh. Yeah." There's a brief touch of conflict, and then she asks,
      "You get all y'wanted outta that, or you got more t'ask?"

Jeren nods once, and then falls silent, her interest slipping back toward Kaz
      and Cy.

Grey's attention strays from Kaz and Cy; he watches Rina instead, his
      mismatched eyes hooded.

Cy eyes the Gnawer for a considering moment, pursing her lips. "Yeah," she says
      finally. "How come you're Fostern, and T--other people aren't?"

Rina abruptly looks across to Cy, and then moves, crossing hurriedly to go into
      the kitchen.

Grey's half-blind gaze tracks Rina as she leaves. He narrows his eyes, looking
      thoughtful, then gets up and prowls after her.

Jeren blinks in surprise, but she steps further aside so that Rina can pass
      without having to hug the wall. The Ragabash's lips purse. She moves yet 
      another step out of the way when Thomas follows the kinswoman.

"Uh." Kaz shifts back up to the arm of the sofa, and ponders. "Well, there's a
      coupla long stories embedded in that, an' I can't help you on why T 
      ain't." She does not look at the aforementioned T. "I mean, if T ain't 
      told you that part. As f'/me/--" She pauses, and starts in on circular 
      approach, beginning with the less personal and working in to the more 
      personal. "This is gonna take awhile. See, Metis, as the children of a 
      cursed partnership, are often looked down upon and discriminated against. 
      So it's harder to get Fostern, all in all, especially in a mixed Sept, 
      b'cause people'll give you Challenges that ain't geared t'your strengths. 
      Now, me." She takes a breath. "Me, see, I was a dipshit for a long time, 
      a dipshit with a mouth that didn't give a shit whether anyone cared about 
      me or not, 'cause, you know, it was easier to assume they wouldn't." She 
      shrugs. "I was big into self sabotage, since it was easier, emotionally, 
      than other people sabotagin' me. But then I came here, and I joined this 
      pack, with this Weasel spirit defendin' us an' pushin' us on. Razor." She 
      smiles, faintly. "Bitch ass motherfucker, that spirit. An' I found tribe 
      who was good guys, who I gave a shit about, an' who gave a shit about me. 
      An' I started doin' shit. I passed messages, I told tales, I fought 
      f'tribe an' Sept. I kicked ass. I kicked ass f'years, an' I did it well. 
      So I started protectin' the tribe, an' leadin' raidin' parties, an' bein' 
      a prominent Galliard, an' it just... became time to Challenge. Specially 
      since, at the time, I was essentially Elder of my tribe even though I 
      didn't feel I could kick out th' guy who was Elder, then. 'Cause he was 
      Fostern. An' I was better'n him, at least at protectin' the tribe, an' 
      everyone knew it but him. So." She shrugs. "I challenged John's ass, he 
      tol' me to do somethin' I wanted to do anyway, and here we are."

When Grey walks into the kitchen, Rina is leaning on the counter with both
      hands, her head down, face hidden as she listens to Kaz.

Somewhere during Kaz's monologue, Cy takes on that rapt expression of
      fascinated students everywhere. She fiddles with her milk glass for a 
      moment afterwards. "...So if you weren't metis, you'd prolly be Adren by 
      now?"

Grey comes up alongside Rina, resting a hand on the counter near her and
      leaning. "You all right?" he asks her, keeping his voice low.

Kaz blinks. "Shit, I hope not."

Jeren moves further away from the kitchen, glancing only once over her
      shoulder. Her fingers that were previously tapping against her knee, are 
      now tapping against the milk glass.

Rina nods quickly. "Yeah," she murmurs, "not really, but yeah. Christ, you been
      doin' a carton a day or somethin'?"

The young Philodox frowns, scratching at her brightly-dyed hair. "But y'said
      it's harder to move up in rank if you're metis, right? So if you 
      /weren't/ metis, you woulda had an easier time getting Fostern, and 
      prolly be farther ahead by now, right?" She tosses a glance over her 
      shoulder towards the kitchen in a moment of distraction, then refocuses 
      on the Gnawer.

Grey straightens up, leaning back from Rina slightly and giving a quick,
      defensive shrug. "Hardly."

Kaz admits, a touch sheepishly, "Ok, so that was me revertin' t'bein' th' Shlub
      With No Self Esteem. Sorry." She shakes her head faintly. "Yeah. It 
      depends on the person, basically. There's some folks who'll stay Fostern 
      f'a long time. That want to stay at the local level, and stay bein' a big 
      fish in a small pond. When you get to Adren, that's when people start 
      t'hear about you around th' country, and some people don' want that kinda 
      responsibility. But, in gen'ral, yeah, if you're a good Garou an' doin' 
      the right things an' growin' in the right directions, when you're my 
      age-- I'm 32-- you oughta be at least well on the way to Adren, if not 
      there already."

In the kitchen, Rina straightens with an effort. She looks over her shoulder to
      Grey, her eyes guarded. "Thank you," she says quietly. "I didn't deserve 
      it, y'know."

"--If you're not dead first," Jeren adds unnecessarily to the end of Kaz's
      remarks. She takes another drink from her glass and moves forward.

Grey shifts his weight, leaning back against the counter and folding his arms
      across his chest. He answers Rina with a grunt. "You do, but you're 
      welcome anyway."

Rina looks up, with the same guarded expression. "I'm sorry," she says, quiet
      and sober.

Cy switches her gaze from Kaz to Jeren, and purses her lips. "That reminds me.
      Aren't I supposed t'get shot sometime soon?" Her tone with the Ragabash 
      is cool, but civil.

Grey shrugs, looking away from Rina and down at the floor. "Do you know who did
      it?"

Kaz snorts slightly and takes a swig of Coke.

Rina nods minutely, lowering her eyes. Her jaw clenches, a brief spasm. "Yeah."

"Yeah." Jeren pauses with the glass raised halfway to her lips. "/Real/ soon,
      actually. There's no way I'm going to give you your first bullet on a fat 
      moon. Getting shot itself is bad enough. So...nnr. Within the next few 
      days. I want to take Kevin out for at least one more too, and then you 
      two can shoot me."

Jeren pauses, as if remembering something. "Oh. Kaz, Natalie's fine with me
      taking on Basil too, so long as Olga doesn't have a problem with it. And 
      so long as she doesn't mind him getting shot up a little."

Grey looks back at Rina; he's hardly paying any attention to the living room
      conversation at the moment. "Are you going to do anything about it?"

"Hm. I'll poke her, I guess. I don' think she'd have a problem with th'
      teachin' thing, it's just th' shootin' thing most sane people--" Kaz's 
      tone is part amused, part disturbed-- "would object to. So I'll see if 
      she's sane're not. More fun if she ain't, mind you..."

Looking away sharply, Rina seems to focus on something far off; her eyes are
      narrowed, sharp with fury. "I haven't been able to find him anywhere."

Jeren's eyebrows quirk--for her part, she looks faintly amused herself.
      "--Yeah, well, I figure, and I imagine Natalie and Thomas are thinking 
      along the same lines, that being a city Garou, you're bound to get shot 
      eventually. And chances are, you might be shot when other people are 
      around. So it's much, much better to know what it's like, to be able to 
      go through the initial shock and possible frenzy when there are other 
      Garou around to help you through it, than to try and do it all by 
      yourself if you get pegged on some street corner with a bunch of 
      witnesses."

Grey stares at the kinswoman, puzzled, for a couple of seconds before lowering
      his head wearily. One hand comes up to pinch at the bridge of his nose, 
      and his eyes squint shut for a moment. "Rina," he says, more than a 
      trifle long-suffering, "would that /really/ be a bad thing?"

Cy wrinkles her nose with obvious distaste at the sound of Basil's name, and
      finishes off her glass of milk. "Whatever," she says to Jeren. "I just 
      wanna get it /over/ with. And I finished studying the book. So. Let's do 
      it."

Kaz nods. "Yeah, it's why I stab my cubs with silver, when I get the chance.
      T'... make sure they know what it's /really/ like."

Jeren glances back at Cy. "Done with the book? Great, I can toss it over to
      Basil then. And we'll get started first thing tomorrow, after your run 
      and breakfast. You and Kevin. Sound good?"

"If he's smart, and from what I know he is," Rina says bitterly, "he'll be
      somewhere a million miles away. Where I can't possibly track him down." 
      Her voice stays quiet, edgy. After a moment she looks over to him, and 
      then abruptly moves to attach herself to his waist, her head ducked 
      against the smell of too many cigarettes.

Kaz suggests, "I think she means she wanna be shot now." She glances at Cy.
      "Yeah?"

The cub blinks once at Kaz rather owlishly, and clears her throat. "Uhm. I was
      thinking sometime /soon/, but--" She shrugs tightly and looks back to 
      Jeren. "Whenever works f'you, I guess."

Confusion, then irritation flicks across Grey's face, but when Rina attaches
      herself to him, his face goes blank, his body stiff. He mutters something 
      vaguely apologetic as he detaches himself. "I'm headed for bed. Call me 
      tomorrow, maybe we can try another search."

Kaz looks apologetic. "Oh, sorry. Guess it's time f'me t'turn in my
      mindreader's card, huh?"

Jeren hehs again. "Well, I think Natalie would outright skin me if I went about
      shooting cubs in the house. I'm not so sure the neighbors aren't already 
      convinced the lot of us are insane. --Soon," she promises Cy. "As in, as 
      soon as I can snag the keys for the bunker. But we'll start on guns 
      tomorrow, bunker or no."

Rina swallows, sensing the shift and pulling away quickly. "I'm sorry," she
      says swiftly, avoiding his eyes. "I should've thought--" She gives a 
      quick shake of her head. "Night," she says, and heads for the fridge.

Cy can't help but twist something that looks like a wry smile in Kaz's
      direction. She climbs to her feet and readjusts the heavy weight of her 
      messenger bag, then nods to the Ragabash. "Tomorrow," she agrees. With a 
      glance towards the Gnawer, she adds, "Thanks f'the donuts, Kaz-rhya." The 
      term of respect sounds awkward in her mouth.

Grey grunts something similar back at Rina and retreats down the hall toward
      the front of the house, giving the others a tight-jawed, perfunctory, 
      "Good night," as he disappears into the Walker side.

The fridge closes, and there's silence in the kitchen.

Kaz's response seems automatic, by now. "Don' need t'go callin' me no rhya. I'm
      jus' me. But y'welcome. Figured /someone/ would want 'em."

Jeren turns her head as Grey makes his exit--and then again, she looks back
      toward the kitchen. Tap, tap, tap goes her index finger against the 
      mostly empty milk glass.