It is currently 19:33 Pacific Time on Fri Jun 17 2005. Currently in Saint Claire, it is mostly sunny today. The temperature is 66 degrees Fahrenheit (18 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the south at 7 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.68 and steady, and the relative humidity is 48 percent. The dewpoint is 46 degrees Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius.) Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous Moon phase (72% full). Thomas Grey is a man hard-used by the world. It shows mostly in his face, a hawkish visage that's extensively scarred down the left side, twisting keloid making a ruin of aristocratic features. If not for the scars, he'd probably be fairly handsome in a severe sort of way. The angles of his face are sharply defined, the nobility in them scoured nearly to the bone. His thick black hair hangs just past his ears, shaggy and unkempt, and he wears a few days' worth of beard-growth -- also black, though with faint touches of grey at the corners of his mouth; he looks older than his thirty-something years. His deep-set eyes -- the right dark brown, the left blind white -- have the shadowed look of someone who does not sleep well. At six-foot-three, he stands taller than most men, and an inherent athleticism indicates that he could probably hold his own in a fight. There's also an aura of pent-up violence about him, a tightly-controlled rage within the lanky, muscled frame that could be lethal if unleashed. His white long-sleeved t-shirt is untucked over a pair of loose-fit, faded carpenter's jeans. On his feet is a pair of black Chuck Taylors, high-top canvas sneakers with the distinctive star in circle logo on the ankles. A watch-chain runs from one belt-loop into the left front jeans pocket. 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. The smell and sizzle of browning meat wafts out from the kitchen, in the back of the common-area side of the safehouse. It's coming from a big pot on the stove, and standing at the counter nearby, Thomas Grey busies himself with chopping a green bell pepper into small cubes. An Audi TT Roadster pulls up to the curb in front of the safehouse, a young Japanese woman steps out from it and heads towards the front door. She rings the doorbell and stands back and waits patiently. There's someone thumping around upstairs. It sounds as if a bed might be being made. Or maybe it's got more to do with murdering a cat. From the sounds, it's hard to tell which. Grey looks up, glances out the window to note the waning daylight, then sets down his cutting knife and heads briskly for the front of the house. His expression is stern and not especially friendly as he opens the door and regards the stranger standing there. With flat, bare courtesy, he asks, "Can I help you?" This woman has a striking model-like figure, surrounded by her clearly unmistakable Asian nationality. Her skin is a dark tea brown with a glowing luster of her flawless skin. Dark, straight hair falls directly to her gangly shoulders but is more than often styled into a pony-tail band. High cheek bones rest below a set of almond-shaped, spirited coffee brown irises. Her nose is buttoned-shaped as it appears before the pout shape of her lush, deep rose lips. She stands slightly less than five feet tall. Her body has a supermodel slenderness that shapes the curves of her body. Social status seems to be clearly identifiable on this young woman's figure in regards to her clothing fashions. She wears a Neiman Marcus' Jean Paul Gaultier polka-dot print top with a matching flocked polka dot tulle scarf hem skirt made in Italy (of course). The top has polka-dot straps with garter belt style hooks. The skirt has a handkerchief hem. Both articles have cream polka-dot print tulle with red polka-dot pattern flocking. For shoes she wears a pair of rustic looking, short-ankle cowboy boots. Kaz thumps downstairs with some wadded up sheets in hand. "Hey, I'm doin' some lau--" She stops at sight of the newcomer, puts the sheets down carefully on the steps, and goes to check and make see nothing's burning. "Yes," the kinwoman replies. "I am looking for Kenneth Kingston." The woman flickers a strand of her dark hair away from her eyes as she looks up at Grey, not an ounce of an expression on the Shadow Lord's face. Happily, the ground meat in the big pot is still mostly pink. Though the bell pepper's still mostly whole, the onion's already been chopped up, and the other ingredients laid out on the counter indicate that the end result will be quite a good amount of chili, and probably rather spicy chili at that. Grey glances over his shoulder as Kaz thumps down and then heads into the back, then turns his gaze back down on the visitor, his scarred face unreadable apart from the aura of vicious temper held carefully in check. "Nobody by that name lives here." Kaz, who's blissfully ignorant of Shadow Lord anything, chops peppers. (She makes sure to chop them about the size Grey was using.) Once she's done with that, she wanders out into the hallway, eyebrows raising curiously. "I said that I was looking for him," Xia replies sturnly. "I didn't ask if he lives here." She places a hand on her hip as she remains looking to the Glass Walker. "The place where he used to live is vacent." The woman sighs, "Or at least tell me where I would find Jarred or Cutter." She looks over to catch Kaz and wrinkles up her nose a little. "I know who you are." Grey's upper lip lifts at the stern tone from Xia, his gaze hardening. That air of controlled temper just got a bit more palpable. Stiffly, he turns and looks over his shoulder at Kaz, and then steps aside to let the Gnawer get a good look at Xia. "Do you know this person?" "Uh, no, but then again, I don' know a lotta people." Kaz gives Xia a look, once up, once down, and asks, "Jarred'n Cutter, huh? Are you direct family, or non-furry relation?" Xia shakes her head. "No, I mean," she sighs again, "I know -what- you are, my grandfather gave me this address." For a moment Xia appears nervous, although her calm, sturn expression returns. "Do you wish for me to stand on your porch to talk about this or are you going to invite me inside?" she asks, not answering Kaz's question yet. Grey jerks his head, none-too-politely inviting the woman inside. Kaz shrugs, and moves backwards a bit, to give more space. Xia takes a step in as she is invited none too polietly into the house. The Shadow Lord gently closes the door behind her. "Thank you," she says as politely as she can manage. Then, she returns her answer to Kaz. "My grandfather is Ivan Gavrilovish Aksenov, Western Shadow Lord, my parents are both kinfolk. I came here a little over a year ago and returned home, to Chicago, in the fall. I have lost contact with my tribe out here during that time. My name is Daxia Feng Li Xiao, and I wish some answers, please. I do not know why the warehouse would be vacant." "Jarred's dead." There's Thomas Grey, with the utter lack of tact and still rather surly. His hands push into his pockets. "Lucas and Kenneth got tired of him being a manipulative bastard. Cutter's... around, I suppose. Haven't talked to him recently." Kaz thumps a foot against the wall. "Ah. Gotcha. Well, that's a long story, but it boils down to Jarred and Lucas bein' dead, mostly because Jarred was an asshole so Lucas and Kenneth whupped his butt. So operations have moved elsewhere, and I don't know where yet, because I just got back into town. I got a really old cel number for Cutter, if you wanna try it." Kaz says this in about one long breath. "Also, hi, I'm Kaz. I'm a Bone Gnawer, a metis, and a Galliard, and I can tell you more if you wanna know it." "Please," she requests from Kaz to go on. Her attention at least on the Kaz, not for her lack of fashion sense but for information. Grey excuses himself with little more than a grunt and heads into the back to check on the meat. Kaz says, "Check," and rummages in her pocket. She produces a small in size but thick in pages address book, leafs through it, and writes down several names and phone numbers. "'Kay," she says, tearing the page out. "Cutter, Rina, Alec, and Jeremy. Cutter, you know. Rina and Jeremy are Walker Kin, Alec's Gaian kin and I don't know if that's still his number, but I figure you can try it. Anyone else, I don't know if they're still in town or not." "Rina sounds familiar, a friend of Cutter's, her family is from Chicago too-- if I remember correctly." Xia retorts, her dark eyes watching as Grey retreats. "Maybe I should have stopped by the farmhouse instead, but I have just arrived in town." In the kitchen, Grey finds the pepper all chopped up already, thanks to Kaz, and after pausing over his for a second, adds the chopped peppers and onions to the pot, along with some finely diced garlic. More cooking scents waft out from that part of the house. Kaz nods. "Yep, she's the Chicago-ite. Her and Cutter go 'way back. Still do, really." She shrugs. "Farmhouse, you'd mostly get a lot of cubs. I could call you if I figure out where Kenneth is-- actually, he runs with Requiem." Louder, she calls, "Hey, S-- Grey, where's Requiem run? I mean, their turf?" Xia crosses her arms around her waist, looking towards the kitchen. She is greeted with the smell of onions and garlic, making her nose wrinkle. Grey grunts, then calls back over the sizzle of cooking. "No idea. Sorry." Kaz says, "Sheesh, what use're you?" in a friendly kind of way, and shrugs apologetically at Xia. "Gimme your number, huh? I mean, do you got a card or somethin'? I can call you when I find out." Grey snorts at Kaz's reply and continues stirring casually at the mixture of ground meat, peppers, onions, and garlic. Xia nods her head and pulls out a card from her small purse-like wallet and hands it to the Bone Gnawer. "I am staying at one of the hotels in-town until I find a place to rent for the summer." she remarks. "Thank you very much," the kin seems very grateful for the Gnawer's assistance while she gives Grey a rather stare from where she stands. Giving Grey a hard stare is none too easy, with walls between the living room/front area of the house and the kitchen where he's currently situated. Nor is the Glass Walker especially attentive to the possibility or reality of such stares, being for the moment wholly absorbed in the first stages of chili-making. Kaz both sticks the card in the back of her address book, and also writes Xia's number down in her book. "Them hotels is all sterile and shit. Hope you can find a place soon. You're gonna stick around, then?" Beautiful, this woman isn't. Most people wouldn't even call her interesting, although there is a spark of something, deep down in there. Even so, most people would call her homely, if they bothered to call her anything at all. She's about 5'6" tall, and burly. Not fat -- It's the kind of burly that's all muscle, just not well defined muscle. Her hair is brown, distinctly curly, and in her eyes. Constantly. The part that's not in her eyes is about shoulder length. Her eyes are distinctly odd, although it's hard to tell, given how often she hides behind her hair. They're yellow, and look almost cat-like. The rest of her face isn't offensive, just boring. The nose is a bit big -- maybe it's been broken, or maybe she was just born that way. Her chin is broad, as are her cheekbones. Classic features for a man that don't at all work on her. There's a wry, cynical smile often playing about her lips that does nothing to add to her mostly non-existent charm. Makeup, it's clear, is of very little use to this person. "Battered" would describe her choice of clothing quite well. Grey trenchcoat, tired blue jeans, an oxford shirt hanging open, with a t-shirt underneath. Her sneakers are black, and she often has a black hat jammed over her head. "If I am going to find myself as bored as the last time I was here, I might not." Xia replies. "We'll see if the second time returning will be any better than the first." She drops her hands back at her sides. Kaz shrugs. "Well, if I get into stuff you can help with-- and I will-- I'll be sure to let you know. What all d'you do, in th' human world?" Grey remains voluntarily removed from the conversation. Considering the state of the moon and his own obviously poor attitude, this is probably a good thing. "School," Xia replies simply to Kaz, "although I sometimes will do some personal favors occasionally." Kaz nods. "Check. Not to be crass, and I suppose the answer's obvious, but you got money, right? I mean. It's useful to know, in case emergencies come up." Xia chuckles. "Yes," she replies. Then she looks towards the door. "Well, I have other errands that I need to run and people to see." Kaz grins. "'Kay. Cool. Like I say, if I find stuff that'd be useful for you to do, I'll call you. An' me, I gotta do laundry. So I'll catch you around." Indeed, she disappears up the back stairs rather quickly, after seeing the woman out. Grey stays in the kitchen, where a man belongs. It being the 21st century and all. Xia steps out through the door, where her car is heard a few moments later steering away from the curb. [Later...] While Kaz is off taking care of laundry, Grey tends to the creation of one large and spicy pot of chili. It's simmering on the stove now, covered, while he cleans up the counter and a few dishes, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and forearms -- and ash-darkened glyph-scars -- bared. Kaz galumphs downstairs. "I even used fabric softener. Ain't I good?" Grey looks up from the sink, a lock of black hair hanging over his dead eye. "...You are," he answers, after a second's distracted pause. He continues scrubbing at the wooden cutting board, but paying it half his attention, at best. He gives a nod toward the pot on the stove. "Should be ready in a few minutes." Kaz slides up onto the kitchen table. "Yeah, cool. I'd've cut up more stuff for you, but some people is all specific about what size they cut things into, so I figured I'd let you do it, after we got rid of Ms. Nose In Air, there. An' speakin' of whom, yikes." Grey grimaces. "Thank you for handling her. Any more of that and I might have ripped her fucking head off." He rinses off the cutting board, signs of tension in his jaw and shoulders. Kaz shrugs. "Y'welcome. We all got our little talents, and mine happens to consist of being a bulldozer at actually gettin' what I want outta people. But then again, what I want's pretty simple, so most of the time, it goes pretty easy." "You're good with people," Grey agrees. He glances sidelong over at her. "Enjoying your visit so far?" His expression's guarded, his tone of voice neutral. Kaz nods. "In a weird kind of 'Hi, I'm blunter than thou' kind of way, yeah." She shrugs, not quite looking at him yet. "Y'mean enjoyin' my visit in y'all's place, or in St. Claire?" "St. Claire." Grey continues to divide his attention between dishes and Bone Gnawer, at least until the oh-so-sharp cutting knife decides it doesn't like this and (apparantly) leaps out of the sudsy water to bite him. "Sranje!" Kaz says, "Hey, no killin' yourself in the kitchen." She shrugs, though, at his question. "The last time I told you I was stickin', no questions asked, I left again about 2 minutes later. So I don' wanna do that again. But it for damn sure looks like there's enough f Kaz says, "Hey, no killin' yourself in the kitchen." She shrugs, though, at his question. "The last time I told you I was stickin', no questions asked, I left again about 2 minutes later. So I don' wanna do that again. But it for damn sure looks like there's enough f'me t'do. Asses t'kick, news t'spread, that kinda stuff. Networks t'get networked." She shrugs. "Lemme put it this way: I'm here f'th' forseeable future." There's a brief, faint grin. "Wouldn't want t'make a liar outta the seer, after all." Grey scowls at his hand, or maybe the knife, or at the sink in general. The cut isn't serious; upon examination, it's hardly even bleeding. He gives her a bemused frown, brow furrowed. "Which seer is this?" Kaz slides off the table and pokes her head into the fridge. "Does Things Th' Wrong Way. I think I mentioned it, actually, but you mighta been preoccupied with Rina. She tol' me this was my last stop, which. when she /said/ it, at least, hit me pretty hard. Almost as hard as Chugs did, the first time I came into town, back in '98." Grey looks away, working on finishing the last few dishes, including the savage little knife. He grunts in acknowledgement, then adds, somewhat stiffly, "Glad to hear it. That you're staying." Kaz finds, surprise surprise, a Coke, and hops back up on the table. "Thanks. I think I am, too." There's a pause. Then, failing at casual, she asks, "Hey. Is your cel number the same as it was?" Grey shakes his head. "Killed the old number after I left last year. Seemed prudent, since at the time I was supposed to be dead." Kaz says, "Mmm. 'Kay." And, for a wonder, leaves it at that. Either she's suddenly shy, or she figures he can give it to her if he wants to. Meanwhile, she opens her Coke and takes a swig. 'Shy' isn't a good word to describe Thomas Grey, though he does seem rather... awkward and uncertain. He finishes off the dishes and dries off his hands. "Do you, er, want the new one?" He gives her another of those sidelong looks. Kaz leaps on this as if it were a lifeline. "Fuck yes. I just--" She takes a breath and looks at him directly. "I didn't know if you trusted me that much anymore, is all. I kinda ducked out on y'all, y'know?" Grey's own gaze twitches away after a moment. He shrugs and hangs up the dishtowel. "I'm not exactly in a position to bitch at people for leaving town abruptly." He clears his throat, turns back to her. "Need a pen?" Kaz shakes her head, produces her own pen, and her book. "So this one isn't of the 'I am only telling three people' variety? I mean, I can spread it around if I need to, f'some reason?" "Well," says Grey, raking fingers back through his hair distractedly. "Keep it to Garou or kin, but otherwise, yes, spread away." He recites the number, local area code and all. Kaz says, "Check," and writes the number quickly, and in, apparently, two places. "Gimme Natalie's while y'at it? Everyone else's, I can get from th' source. It's more fun that way, an' y'meet more people." Grey obligingly recites Natalie's cellphone number, watching her rather diffidently. It's an odd fit, on him. Kaz writes it down in only one place. "Thanks. An'-- S'far as I know, you've only left town abruptly once, right? Here, anyways. Or am I missin' somethin'?" Grey pushes his hands into his pockets and shrugs. "More than once, though only twice if you only mean _long_ absenses." He frowns slightly, distracted by some thought, and abruptly changes the subject. "Chili's probably ready, if you'd like a bowl." Kaz blinks slightly. "Wait, so what /was/ the second time?" Being as she is, after all, a Gnawer, she hops off the table and goes to get a bowl. "Sure thing. Is this five alarm, or just two?" "Four to five." Grey gets a bowl for himself, and a box of crackers as well. "First was the Rialto incident. Second was when I went after Lara." He takes off the lid of the chili pot and stirs it a bit with the serving dipper. "Dropped out of town a few times between those, to, er, help her out with this or that." More of that odd tentativeness. Rina lets herself in, dragging jacket and helmet in one hand. She heads for the second door, only pausing at the sound of voices. Kaz mutters, "Check," and finds some bread to absorb the heat. "Yeah, ok. I wasn't sure how long th' most recent thing was. I mean," she says, vaguely blithely, "the one that made your life into shit in a can." Her first bite of chili results in her inhaling sharply. "Mmf." Grey grunts in reply and sits down with a bowl for himself and a glass of milk. "How is it? Too hot?" Rina sets down jacket and helmet with infinite care, and leans against the half-wall. Kaz stuffs some bread into her mouth, but shakes her head several times. She would appear to be grinning. "Nf!" Grey doesn't smile, though his expression seems to lighten a notch. Then he notices the kinswoman and the guarded look returns. "Ah, good evening, Rina." He pushes his chair back, not quite rising. "Chili's on the stove. If you want some." Kaz points from Rina to the chili, and then flashes a thumb's up. Rina shakes her head quickly. "No, thanks..." She studies Kaz a moment. Grey's mouth thins, his shoulders jerking in a pseudo-casual shrug. He drops his eyes to his bowl, occupying himself with the monumental and very complicated task of breaking crackers off into it. Kaz finally finishes her current bite. She blinks at Rina's study. "Wha?" "Nothing," Rina says quietly. "Should I go? If you guys want to talk..." She swallows, and looks to Kaz, slightly hopeful. Grey seems quite focussed in eating all of a sudden, and uninterested in talking. Kaz looks from Rina to Grey and back again. "Um." She shrugs. "It ain't like you're intrudin', and I ain't seen you in a coon's age. I c'n talk t'him whenever, I'm sleepin' here half th' time anyways." "Yeah," Rina says quickly. "It's okay, I'll come back later. I was just--stoppin' by to check on the kids..." She watches Grey for a moment, dark eyes intent, reading him. Then she picks up her jacket and helmet again. Kaz says, carefully, "Rina? Do you notice the words "no" and "don't go" appearing over my head in blinking lights? Well, if you don't, just imagine they're there, because I enjoy you. So siddown. Or at least don' go leavin' yet, I gotta get phone numbers outta you." Grey glances up at 'check on the kids', giving Rina a slight, worried frown. Rina presses her lips together, hard. She doesn't set down her things. "What d'you need?" Kaz shrugs. "I gotta make sure I got your current cel number. An' if you got names of Kin I don' know, I'd be grateful, so I can go hunt 'em down an' say hi. Jus' 'cause my Fostern challenge is over don' mean that I wanna stop knowin' Kin." "My number's same as it always was," Rina answers. "555-6749. "Got a few new kin in town," Grey remarks, poking around his chili with his spoon. Kaz produces her address book and flips through it. "Ah. Got you in there, still. Cool." She rivets her attention on Grey. "Yah?" "Who?" Rina asks, jacket still dangling from her hand. Grey glances up and nods. "Jon and, ah." He hesitates, then grimaces. "Someone else whose name I forget. You'll have to get their numbers from Natalie, though. I don't have them. There's a city councilman who's kin to the Wendigo, too." Kaz jots down a note or two. "'Kay. Cool. I'll bug Natalie next time I see her. Which is part've why I'm bunkin' here occasionally, so I got an excuse to see her more often than never." "If there isn't anything else," Rina says quietly, "I got someone waiting at home." Her eyes are averted, a strange cast to them. Grey avoids looking at Rina, and seems to have lost his appetite for chili as well. He pokes around the half-empty bowl with his spoon some more. "Yeah, ok," says Kaz, reluctantly. "But, like, don't be a stranger, y'know? I may be crass as all shit, but that don't mean I don't enjoy you." One corner of the girl's mouth tugs upward, in a ghost of a smile. "Yeah, I'll be around," she answers. "You guys... enjoy your dinner, aright?" "Should be plenty of leftovers," Grey remarks, mostly to his food. "Until the cubs get at it, anyhow." Kaz nods. "Yeah, cap'n. Will do. And I'll see you." "Seeya," Rina answers, very quietly. With a faint smile for Grey, she turns to leave. Grey glances up in time to catch the smile and ducks his head in return. He watches her go, looking moody and tired. Kaz gives the door a hairy eyeball, mutters, "Right," and rises to her feet. "Thank you for the chili-- I'm gonna go finish th' laundry now. Catch you later." She vanishes upstairs, fairly quiet, for once.