It is currently 17:50 Pacific Time on Mon Jul 4 2005.

Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 79 degrees
      Fahrenheit (26 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from 
      variable directions at 6 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.08 
      and falling, and the relative humidity is 41 percent. The dewpoint is 54 
      degrees Fahrenheit (12 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waning New Moon phase (13% 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.

                       +views and +places are available                        

Contents:

Jeremy

Obvious exits:

Common Area  BAsement  

After punching in a few numbers, Jeremy makes his way into the Walker area,
      calling out. "Anyone home?" He is dressed in normal blue jeans and a 
      simple green shirt with a black wind breaker. His face is red from the 
      burning sun and his blonde hair is spiked up a bit upon his head. A new 
      look for him it seems, something normal.

In the living room, Grey glances up, then picks up the remote and turns off a
      Fourth of July showing of _The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly_. "In here," 
      he calls back curtly.

Making his way into the living room, Jeremy lets out a slow breath and then
      rubs a hand over the back of his neck. ".. I'm in a lot of trouble."

Grey's eyes narrow slightly. "Oh?" His tone is neutral. He sets the remote down
      and shifts his weight, settling back again in his armchair. "What's 
      wrong?"

"So, a couple of months ago, I noticed that Roger's mom kinda quit sending
      money, right? So no big deal, I kept paying the rent off the apartment 
      with my own cash. I've been working on buying a house in Kent's Crossing 
      which is what I've finally done and we move in tomorrow." Jeremy starts 
      off with a frown. "You know, decided to just move on with my life and get 
      away from the apartment, kinda not live in the shadow of... him, anymore. 
      Well, of all people.. my cousin, Trent, from the Steel Angel showed up 
      last night. He's a Galliard of our family obviously. He tells me that I'm 
      in a shit storm and that high clearance Garou want my head because they 
      are under the assumption I've been ripping off another Glass Walker."

Grey's brow furrows. "Did Roger's mother not know that he was dead?"

Jeremy shrugs his shoulders. "I don't have a way to contact her. Roger never
      gave me that information. She put him up in the apartment and was tossing 
      money at him for the rent because he's a Metis and didn't want to be 
      found out she's a Charach. All I know is that the rent is paid each month 
      and its deposited into Roger's account." Jeremy says with a shrug. "She 
      has never called the place once, no post cards, no letters, nothing. I 
      never tried to hack Roger's account because well, he'd have killed me if 
      I did and the last thing I wanted is the cops to show up or some crap. 
      All I know is that in the video will, he told me to just stay put and 
      live there and it'd be OK, his mother didn't give a shit about him, and 
      he didn't give a shit about her. You know how crazy he was."

Grey's mouth twists into a slight grimace. "I remember. And it sounds as though
      you shouldn't have taken him at his word." He folds his arms across his 
      chest and regards the kinfolk, still frowning somberly. "You never made 
      it a secret to anyone where you were living, though. Not here, anyway. 
      What about to family outside of St. Claire?"

Jeremy shakes his head. "I don't give out my personal information to /anyone/.
      The family inside the Sept is as far as I go, but otherwise, even Trent 
      didn't have my digits. My parents mail me at a PO Box."

Grey grimaces. "What about your relationship to Roger? Can you demonstrate in
      any way that you were /not/ being furtive about living off the money that 
      Roger's mother was sending? Who, exactly, is accusing you, and what do 
      they want?"

Jeremy shrugs his shoulders. "Trent doesn't know. He just got lucky and poked
      his nose in someone else's business and heard my name come up on the net. 
      And what do they want? I dunno, but from what I heard someone is ganna 
      get about ten G's for bringing me in."

Grey looks away from Jeremy, his gaze shifting to the window. He taps his
      fingers against the arm of his chair, thinking for a moment. Then he 
      looks back at the kin, his expression bland. "I think," he says, "that 
      your best bet is to confront those making these... accusations. Get a 
      Philodox involved, and whatever contacts you have who can vouch for your 
      character. Witnesses."

"Hi mister Philodox who an vouch for my character and ex pack mate to my
      psychotic brother in law." Jeremy says as he slides his hands into his 
      pockets.

Grey's jaw tightens. With a brusque gesture, he pulls up his sleeves, baring
      first the charach glyph, then the dishonor one. "/Think/ about that for a 
      moment, Jeremy."

"Geezus, big.. fucking whoop." Jeremy says with a frustrated breath. "You are
      still a hero to this Sept, you are still a Half Moon, you can still vouch 
      for me. They can use a Philodox and know that your words are 'true'. She 
      fucked a Garou herself and then hid him away here and was tossing money, 
      I'm pretty sure that they'll be more worried about dealing with her."

Grey's nostrils flare. Tightly, he snaps back, "I'm a halfmoon who broke the
      law, knowingly, and with a Ronin who had no problems with taking money to 
      do dirty jobs for other Garou, and if you think it's no big deal to the 
      Nation, if you think it will be no big deal to the Garou who are after 
      your head, you're deluding yourself. You're already in the shitter with 
      these people, and you want to bring as your witness and defender a former 
      Shadow Lord, a Renunciate, and a known /charach/?" He spits out a Slavic 
      word and, as if realizing how worked up he's getting, forces himself to 
      sit back again; as an afterthought, he pulls his sleeves back down, first 
      one and then the other.

Taking a few steps back quickly, Jeremy tightens his jaw and lets out a breath,
      then glances away and to the wall. ".. Ok. You're right." He sighs, then 
      rakes his fingers back through his hair, then stubs his shoe hard into 
      the ground, tapping, grind.

Grey grunts. "Dakota," he says after a moment. "She's not a Philodox, but she
      packs under Stag, and Stag's children are known for their honor. I think 
      she'd do for a start. You could also try getting in touch with Francisco."

Jeremy nods his head an lets out a breath, then grits his teeth, hissing out a
      sigh. "I'm so frustrated with this, Thomas. I finally got my head out of 
      my ass and I'm finding myself down again." He paces for a moment, then 
      plucks his cell phone off, sending off a quick text message on speedy 
      fingers.

"Trust me," says the dour Philodox flatly, "you have my sympathies." He sounds
      more surly than sympathetic, though.

Jeremy glances over to him for a moment, then frowns slightly. He opens his
      mouth, then clicks it shut with his teeth clattering against each other.

Grey abruptly pushes up and out of the armchair, his body language tight as he
      stalks for the hallway.

Jeremy turns around to face you and sighs. "I still respect you... if that
      means anything."

Grey pauses at the doorway to look back at Jeremy, his scarred face stony.
      After a few seconds, he nods curtly and continues on toward the kitchen.

"So, did you get pictures of the kids?" Jeremy ventures carefully. "I sent them
      out in email to everyone. Named one of 'em Roger and the other Daniel... 
      got a pair of Galliards."

"Haven't checked my e-mail." Grey glances back at the kin. "Galliards? They're
      Garou, then?"

"Well, dunno. We're hoping that at least one is. But, that is the moon they
      were born under." Jeremy admits as he rocks a bit on his feet, following 
      after you. "I got pictures in my wallet if you want to see, and on my 
      iPod."

"Certainly." Grey's tone is cool, though he seems... interested.

Heading over, Jeremy takes his iPod off his belt and turns it on, flipping to a
      photo playlist. Color screens are nice to have. He enables the slide show 
      feature and hands it over to you so that the pictures can fade in and 
      fade out on their own.

You paged Jeremy with 'About how many pictures are there?'.

From afar, Jeremy laughs. "About five hundred. Yay for patience!"

Jeremy pages: Though I'm sure you'd get the hint after the first 20.

Grey holds the iPod in his right hand and cocks his head slightly, favoring his
      good eye. He watches picture after picture of plump-faced, healthy little 
      infants be shown on the screen. After only a few, though, the Philodox 
      nods curtly and hands the device back with an odd look on his face; a 
      muddle of emotion leaks through his usual neutral mask, the both together 
      making his reaction extremely difficult to read. "Congratulations," he 
      says sharply. "I trust their mother's doing well?"

Jeremy turns it off and puts it back onto his belt. "Yeah, she is doing good,
      could probably use more sleep but I've been trying to get the kids to 
      quiet down at night." He admits with a soft breath. "They are screamers."

Grey snorts. "Galliards," he says, as though this explains everything.

Jeremy grins. "If either or both of 'em breed true in two weeks, I'll happily
      put up with their screaming as long as it takes." He says as he smiles 
      brightly. Its obviously that he is happy, a far cry from scared parent to 
      be kinfolk.

Grey almost smiles. At least, his mouth twitches, tightly. "Indeed."

Sighing happily, Jeremy clasps his hands in front of him. "So.. you plan on
      finding a new pack or something soon?"

Grey folds his arms across his chest and shrugs faintly. "Hadn't thought about
      it."

"Well, what have you been thinking of lately?" Jeremy asks, trying to be
      careful with his words, not accussing, definitely curious.

Grey's eyes narrow. He stares at Jeremy for a moment, unsmiling, and then
      shrugs again tightly. "This and that." He turns away to continue onward 
      toward the kitchen.

"You want me to order a pizza or something?" Jeremy asks as he follows after
      you once more. "Maybe knock back a couple of beers and enjoy the 
      fireworks on TV?"

Grey half-turns to cock an eye at the kinfolk. "Wouldn't you rather be spending
      the evening with your wife and children?"

"She's doing her thing with the tree huggers, ya'know... showing off the kids,
      singing Kumbiyah. I just thought maybe for a change I could spend... 
      well.. a holiday here with my family." Jeremy says, trying out the word.

Grey shakes his head slightly, almost pityingly. "God only knows where everyone
      /else/ is," he grumbles, and then waves a hand in a vague go-ahead 
      gesture. "Fine. You order the pizza, and I'll get Natalie's beer. Fucking 
      serves her right for pissing off for two weeks anyway."

".. Jeren is leaving." Jeremy says as he plucks the phone off his hip. "She
      told me she is going back to be with her father or something, and get her 
      head screwed on." He speed dials, then asks. "What meat do you like?"

"No preference." Grey opens up the fridge and pulls out the sixpack of bottled
      beer that the tribe's current elder typically buys for her own personal 
      use. So much for respecting the territory of another. "Heard about Jeren. 
      Not really surprised." He holds out one bottle for Jeremy.

Jeremy takes the bottle and rambles off a quick order to the person on the
      phone, large meat lovers, lots of cheese sticks and extra ranch and 
      garlic sauce. After paying with credit card over the phone, he hangs up 
      and furrows his brows. "I really don't want her to go."

Grey carries the rest of the beer into the living room, trusting that Jer will
      follow. He gives the kin a curious, squinting look. "No?"

"No, I don't.. Jeren is a good Ragabash.. annoying as fuck, but at least she's
      sensible, and listens to me, and knows how to talk back to me instead of, 
      shut up and get over it." Jeremy says as he slumps onto the couch. "She 
      got me motivated to get back onto my feet in some stupid way and well.. I 
      got inspired enough to network /all/ the kin in St. Claire's under a 
      single Fellowship. Now we're taking on smaller things and trying to 
      gather info to pass down to you."

Grey cracks open his beer and takes a good-sized swallow. "Mn," he says
      afterwards. "Told her that?"

"Yeah. I did, and she was all..whatever, my life sucks, ho hum, peace out."
      Jeremy says with a furrow. "We went to lunch the next day and small 
      talked but... ya'know."

Grey grunts. "So she feels the need to get her head together. Hopefully,
      afterward, she'll come back." He seems terribly neutral on the matter. 
      "Kudos on the kinfolk network, though. Been a while since you people 
      organized."

Jeremy nods his head. "Thanks. We had a moot, Rina and Dominic showed up, saw
      babies, talked about stuff." He trails off. "... We're ganna see what we 
      can do about the hospital, from our side."

Grey raises eyebrows at mention of Rina. "Really." He cocks his head slightly,
      curious. "What did you all have in mind?"

"You read or heard the news about those kids dying, right? From the
      playground... pesticides laced on the equipment? Another reporter said 
      that the hospital was actually broken into by the same kids and they 
      drank poison? Well, we got another idea of what is going on." Jeremy says 
      as he bobs his head. "So I talked to Mitch of the Get and Anji of the 
      Furies. We're ganna talk to Thomas of the Coggies and see about getting 
      information out of any of the employees, like orderlies or something."

Grey nods. "Dr. St. Jean hasn't been in contact, has he?"

Jeremy shakes his head. "Left him several messages and he hasn't responded. I
      think he may be out of town."

"Too bad." Grey takes another swallow of beer. "What about you? You had some
      plan sometime back to hack into their computers, didn't you?"

"Yeah, and Tu told me that I can't go into the hospital to do it. Then I came
      up with this brillant idea of using Jon's company to send me and Tu into 
      the place that designed and built the Hospital so that I can get plans 
      and blue prints. I was able to get the rennovations off the net and their 
      server, but beyond that... I had to get paperback. Well. Tu and Jon said 
      lets do it... and.." Jeremy shrugs. "That was it. They didn't contact me 
      and not a single word was spoken of it."

Grey's mouth thins. "...And Jon's gone back to Canada. Hmn." He seems to think
      about it for a moment, then grimaces, shrugs, and picks up the remote in 
      order to toss it lightly to the kin. "Maybe you should prod Tu. His 
      pack's supposed to be scouting out that damn place. You'd think Magpie'd 
      want the information."

"Tried to talk to him the other day when he came back. I was explaining my...
      situation in my head about how I'm not really apart of the family here 
      and I'm trying to get my senses back and learn to trust again and.. 
      stuff." Jeremy says with a flick of his fingers, then sighs. ".. He 
      blinked at me and turned and left, said something like.. well, your kids 
      are cute, see yah."

(Rest handwaved.  Pretty mellow evening, with pizza and beer, and while Grey
isn't cheery or anything, there's no head-bitey.)