It is currently 18:54 Pacific Time on Mon Jun 13 2005.
Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 64 degrees
      Fahrenheit (17 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the 
      west at 13 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.15 and steady, and 
      the relative humidity is 48 percent. The dewpoint is 44 degrees 
      Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius.)
Currently the moon is in the waxing Half Moon phase (45% full).

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 right, 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.The living room holds a comfortable couch and a 
      pair of easy chairs, a maple coffee table matched by side tables beside 
      both of the chair. A large plasma television holds pride of place along 
      the far wall, flanked by maple glass-front cabinets that hold assorted 
      media equipment.
The 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 table is in the Mission 
      style, all clean straight lines, and currently seats six, though there's 
      evidence of another leaf to make it larger.
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.

Natalie's second entrance to the tribal lands is much less energetic than her
      first; she pushes the door open, holding it behind her for an 
      equally-sweaty Kevin. "You can have first shower," she tells the boy as 
      he darts upstairs, adding a low-voiced, "...I don't have any reason not 
      to smell," once he's hit the landing. The sweat-suit wearing Elder heads 
      into the living room, brushing sweaty hair from her face, and crosses to 
      the empty beer bottle waiting for her on the coffee table. A lift, a 
      tilt, and she grimaces at it, tilting it back for the last few drops.

In the living room, Grey sits low in his usual chair, flipping channels with
      an air of dissatisfaction.

Jeren is just emerging from the basement herself, looking worn and sweaty, with
      a thin set to her lips. Her hair is, get this, actually somewhat combed, 
      if you discount the inevitable muss of whatever workout she was engaging 
      in.

"No History Channel tonight?" Nat asks him, her voice plucking irritably at
      tension. "It has been..." She pauses, considering the empty bottle. "One 
      heck of a day."

Grey cocks an eye toward Natalie, then looks away with a shrug and turns the tv
      off. "Has it been?"

Jeren pauses at the top of the basement steps, head cocking, and then moves
      slowly toward the living room.

Natalie exhales and sets the bottle back on the low table, running both hands
      through her hair so that it sticks up rather like Jeren's. "Yeah. You 
      could say that. Got fired - excuse me, 'released' - from Dave's team 
      today. He was decent about it, though. Let me stay the whole eight hours 
      instead of just shoving me off when I showed up." She considers the older 
      Philodox for a moment. "Least Kevin seems to be doing well on his Rite. 
      How about you? Still putting in extra hours?"

Grey grimaces sympathetically at news of Natalie's 'release'. "I'm done until
      the moon gets thin again." He shifts his weight and pulls a white 
      envelope out of his back pocket, holding it out toward Natalie. "Here."

Jeren leans into the room, putting one shoulder against the wall and folding
      her arms. She doesn't seem inclined to make her presence known all that 
      swiftly, so she still remains silent.

"What is it?" the Galliard asks, as she steps forward to take the envelope. She
      doesn't even glance Jeren's way as if she hasn't yet seen the Ragabash, 
      or heard her near-silent entry. "--And yeah, that's another silver 
      lining. Got to work all of my last day."

"For the bills," Grey says as he hands the cash-filled envelope over. He frowns
      slightly. "We might have a problem, though."

Natalie opens it enough to see the greenbacks, then refolds the flap closed.
      "When -don't- we have a problem? But what is it? Tell me it's something 
      like the milk's gone sour or we're out of Cheddar. I like easy problems."

Grey grunts. "Who doesn't." He braces his elbows on the arms of his chair and
      laces his fingers together. "There's a place called Bito's Tacos on East 
      Bridge. People have been getting sick there. Repeatedly."

Jeren's eyes narrow. Ah, /now/ she's showing a significant interest in the
      conversation. Go figure. She steps a little further into the room, not 
      taking care to be quiet this time, and unfolds her arms only to shove her 
      hands into her pockets.

"E. coli," the Elder suggests without much hope behind it. "Bad sanitation.
      Call the food inspectors." Upstairs, the shower starts, accompanied by 
      Kevin's enthusiastic and incomprehensible singing. A pause, and she jerks 
      her head toward the hallway without taking her eyes off Grey. "I need 
      some supper. Have you eaten? Then you can tell me all about it."

Grey grunts. "Not much to tell, but..." He pushes to his feet. "What are you in
      the mood for?"

Jeren puts her tongue behind her teeth, and remarks, evenly, "--How do tacos
      sound?"

Natalie does a double-take when Jeren speaks, then frowns at the other woman,
      her eyes narrowing. "How long've you been there? And hell, Thomas, I 
      dunno." She heads for the hallway at her usual fast clip, clearly 
      expecting that Jeren'll clear her way and Thomas will follow. "Something 
      with calories in it. And protein."

Grey gives the Ragabash a dark look, eyes narrowing. Then, tightly, he answers
      Natalie. "Pasta with meat sauce? There's some ground turkey in the 
      freezer."

Jeren does indeed make way for both of the larger moons, before following at a
      polite distance. She doesn't seem overly disturbed by the reaction to her 
      poor joke--in fact, considering her behavior the past few weeks, there's 
      a lightness to her step that hasn't been there since she's arrived. "Job 
      loss, then food upset," she says by way of answer.

Natalie huhs? over her shoulder, then Gets It before she has to ask. "Sure,
      that'd be fine if that's what you want to make. I'm half-tempted to just 
      eat the ground turkey, but Jon'd frown when he finds out." The empty beer 
      bottle arcs and lands in the glass recycling bin with a harsh clatter, 
      and she detours over to the sink to wash her hands. "Like he does when I 
      just have popcorn."

Grey ignores Jeren, his body language stiff and tense. "Burgers is another
      option," he says to the elder. He passes her to the fridge and opens the 
      freezer to take out the package of ground turkey meat; it hits the 
      counter with a solid thunk.

Jeren remains lingering by the doorway, just out of the way of the doorway
      itself, in case anyone decides to make a swift exit.

"Whatever you want to make," Nat repeats, smacking the faucet's handle with her
      elbow and heading over to the hand towel hanging off the oven. "Honest. 
      I'mn hungry enough to eat anything that's not moving fast enough." 
      Another look over her shoulder at Jeren and she adds, "So what about this 
      taco joint?"

"People go there, get sick, and then go back," Grey says, unwrapping the
      solidly frozen mass of ground meat and setting it on a plate. He pops it 
      into the microwave to defrost. "One of my employer's other repo men went 
      to the hospital with something like food poisoning, but he was out for 
      over a week." He shrugs, his back to them as he rummages for other 
      dinner-making essentials. "Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it isn't."

Jeren's brow furrows. "They go back," she repeats. "After getting something
      akin to food poisoning and being laid up for a week." Watch her state the 
      obvious, la.

Natalie finishes with her hands, and refolds the towel before hanging it back.
      "People still eat at Jack in the Box too. Or get MSG poisoning but still 
      eat Chinese. People are stupid." Her thumbs attempt to hook into the 
      non-existant beltloops of her sweatpants; she frowns down at them, then 
      folds her arms over her belly, leans back on the counter and looks put 
      out. "So you want to go out for burritos, or take a peek at it flip side, 
      or what?"

Grey grunts. "I was thinking someone could sneak around realmside, first." He
      glances over at Jeren, significantly, then looks back at Natalie. 
      "Someone subtle."

Jeren adjusts her hands in her pockets and leans back. She too, looks up at
      Natalie.

Natalie glances over at the Ragabash and back at him as well, but without any
      real comprehension. "Subtle like you, or subtle like a Ragabash? Or is 
      this something you want Cy to look at?"

"Subtle like a Ragabash," Grey clarifies, with a grimace. He leans against the
      counter, keeping an eye on the microwave timer.

Jeren's tongue is once more visibly pressed between teeth and lips. But there's
      no hiding that slight tilt to her eyebrows. She looks eager. Reserved, 
      yes, but eager all the same. "Well, I guess that means you need to decide 
      if you want subtle like Tu or subtle like me. Or both of us." She offers, 
      after a moment, "--I still have that fetish, until I'm finished with 
      Megan's task."

"You're Beta," Nat reminds her, with a nod for her information. "--That reminds
      me. My Pop called today. He rented a cabin up near Ely, and wants me to 
      stay with him for a couple of weeks. Since I got fired, I told him sure. 
      So I'm going to be heading out next week, and then get back around the 
      8th or so."

The microwave dings while Natalie's talking. Grey -- gosh, isn't he
      well-trained -- gets out the defrosted meat and, after pushing up his 
      sleeves and washing his hands, starts forming up patties. He listens as 
      he works and pauses with a frown. "/July/ eighth?"

Jeren opens her mouth to respond to the Beta comment--and then Natalie drops
      that teeny little bombshell. The Ragabash's eyes do bulge just a tiny 
      bit. Just a smidge. "Ah. Oh." She clears her throat. "Alright then."

Natalie looks back at Grey, her eyes widening. "Well, yeah. Not August 8th. I
      mean, I leave next week, gone for two. That makes it July." A pause. 
      "Why, is something wrong?"

Grey's mouth thins. "...I suppose not. I'm hardly one to say anything about
      sudden departures or personal absences." He turns back to the task of 
      making turkey burgers.

Possibly because she's trying to digest the idea of what Natalie's departure
      for two weeks means, or possibly she's actually being cautious about 
      holding her tongue around possible hotspots, Jeren doesn't say anything 
      further just yet. She's idly watching Grey's work with the burgers, but 
      her attention is elsewhere.

"You can't even give me a fetish and make me promise to give it back," Nat
      tells him, keeping her voice nice and light. "I'll be fine, Thomas. Just 
      a three day drive, some time in the woods with my Pop - hell, Ely's right 
      near the Wolf Center, so I can probably slip in some time on four feet - 
      and then three days back. I'll be back before you know it."

Grey, still in the middle of cooking, gives Natalie a sharp look at mention of
      the fetish. "Maybe I ought to slip it into your bags."

Natalie actually grins at him, unfolding her arms long enough to trace a cross
      over her left pectoral. "Cross my heart and hope to die, I'll be back 
      before the tenth of July. --Sorry about the rhyme. But -you- better not 
      slip anything into my luggage."

Grey meets Natalie's stare for a couple of significant seconds before nodding
      and focusing once again on being properly domestic. The kitchen fills 
      with the sizzle and smell of cooking meat. "Anything you need done while 
      you're gone?"

Jeren's lips twitch upward at the exchange--blink and it's gone, however. "Yes,
      anything pressing? Well, apart from what we already know."

Natalie says "Nothing's slipping to mind," as she hitches a hip back onto the
      counter. "Oh. Just one thing. Jacinta wants to go clean out Jeremy's 
      apartment as her Fostern Challenge. I told her I'd go along as a UN 
      observer, and to make sure that what she's describing actually is a 
      problem. She can take a handful of other Garou, the city's Umbra being 
      what it is. She says it's all full of webs. /I/ say, 'well duh, it's got 
      more computer crap in it than a Best Buy'. I *think* she's over-reacting 
      because she doesn't see much city Umbra, but I don't know. If it's what I 
      think it is, then ripping down all the webs will cause all Jer's tech 
      toys to stop working."

Grey nods slowly. "Or at least malfunction badly. She... mentioned this to me,
      about the outing." He shrugs. "The webs may have to be shredded to remove 
      whatever's nesting within it."

Jeren rubs the fingers of one hand together. "Ripping down all the webs sounds
      like a bad idea anyway. If there's something still there other than 
      Weaver, the last thing we want is to be dealing with a horde of pattern 
      spiders along with whatever Wyrm shit is hanging around."

Natalie shrugs at them both. "Exactly. Ergo, I'm playing UN observer. I don't
      think this is something I can pass off to either of you, not and follow 
      the terms of her Challenge, so." She half-frowns at Grey, her lips 
      thinning. "As insulting as it is, -I- don't have any way of contacting 
      her. If you would, please? It needs to get done in the next week, or it 
      has to wait until next big moon."

[Scene closes with Grey finishing making dinner and conversation going more
 toward small talk.]