It is currently 15:10 Pacific Time on Thu Aug 12 2004.
Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent Moon phase (22% full).

Chaney(#3362Pce$)
Chaney is a tall, slim teenager, not quite six feet in height and with long
      arms and legs; she wouldn't look out of place on a high school girls' 
      basketball team. Her fair skin is liberally freckled, not just on her 
      face, and her eyes are blue. She has high cheekbones, a straight and 
      slightly beakish nose, a narrow chin and full lips.
Her thick hair's cropped short in a perky, tomboyish style that shows off her
      slender neck and the delicate shape of her ears. It's been dyed purple on 
      the left side and bright green on the right.
This apparant fondness for color extends into her outfit, which consists of a
      bright yellow babydoll t-shirt (short enough to expose a bit of soft, 
      hairless tummy and tight across the breasts) and a pair of faded, 
      low-slung jeans with "LOVE ME" in pink letters across the ass. Dark pink 
      Chuck Taylors with white-and-black checks inside are on her feet, and 
      both wrists are adorned with dozens of cheap jelly bracelets, all colors 
      and hues.

Summer evenings are long and warm, thus when the movie lets out it is still
      bright, and easily above eighty degrees. Nat and Chaney in her truck make 
      a little procession back to the Dominion, the Galliard responding 
      automatically to Chaney's chattering but nowhere near as animated as she 
      usually is. Into the air-conditioned house, and Nat makes a half-hearted 
      gesture at the parlor before leading the way back to the magnificent 
      kitchen. "...Anyone else want some lemonade? I'm pouring." Not a word 
      about the movie, or the so-called 'real butter' on the popcorn.
Jon stands indecisively at the crossroads of the hallway, between the gesture
      and where Natalie is going, and winds up choosing neither. "That would be 
      great, thanks."
Chaney, meanwhile, is still glowing with excitement over having seen a /real/
      movie, at the spectacle of /huge/ images. Even the stupid Coca-cola 
      commercial before the previews had entranced her. "Naht!" she sings out, 
      in the hallway, just ahead of Jon. "Naht, saw'd! Shaynee saw'd!"
"Chaney," Nat calls back, "I know. I was there, remember? Now stop tripping Jon
      and come in here." She tosses him an apologetic grimace, half 
      embarrassment and three-fourth's pride. "Hmn, kitchen all right with you? 
      I just have the feeling Chaney's so hopped up on sugar and caffeine that 
      the parlor'd never recover, and then T... I'd spend the rest of the night 
      with carpet cleaner."
Jon's eyebrows raise a little at Natalie's self-correction, but his expression
      is bemused as he trails after the lupus cub in towards the kitchen at the 
      galliard's prompting. "Kitchen's fine. The parlor just seems like the 
      wrong kind of room to hang out after a movie," he adds, as he enters that 
      room.
"Saw'd fi'!" says Chaney again, elaborating. "Saw'd /fight/." She waves a fist
      around, doing wild, unskilled slashes and parries with an invisible 
      weapon at an invisible foe. Just like the people on the movie screen.
Natalie only winces and turns back for the fridge, pulling it open to retrieve
      a plastic pitcher. "Chaney, you hit Jon with your fighting, and you're 
      going to bed -right now- and I'm taking away Little Leap for a /week/." 
      She and the pitcher head for one of the cabinets but it's only a few 
      steps before she changes her mind to move to the large country-style 
      table at one half of the room. "Go ahead and sit, Jon - you want ice 
      cubes?" It's almost normal.
Jon reaches out towards Chaney as if he might, almost, be about to join in, but
      then pulls his hands back with a regretful sigh, instead moving to the 
      table. "Please," he says to Natalie, but then asks, "who or what is 
      Little Leap?"
Chaney stops her play as soon as Natalie gets authoritive, though she pouts
      deeply. "No 'way Weep," she protests, leaning against the table and 
      shifting her weight restlessly. "Shaynee /saw'd/. Naht. Shaynee /saw'd/."
"I know you saw it," Nat says again, amused. "Chaney, why don't you go get
      Little Leap so Jon can see? And maybe..." Her gaze skitters over to the 
      kin, then back to the lemonade she's so carefully pouring. "One of your 
      other toys, too." And there it is, plain as day: Nat's a single mother to 
      a sentient Labrador Retriever. On speed. An intelligent man would turn 
      around and walk right out the front gate.
And yet, Jon is still sitting here, perfectly at ease. He gives Natalie a wry,
      commisserating smile, but then looks over at Chaney. "I'd love to meet 
      Little Leap."
Chaney cocks her head at Natalie, brow furrowed and frowning. Then she turns
      and sulk-bounces out of the room. Her sneakers make thumpity noises as 
      she heads upstairs.
Natalie does relax once the cub's out of the room, now that she no longer has
      to guard the china shop from the bull. "Little Leap's a... well, it's an 
      educational toy. I'm sure you've seen them at Target?" Or he would, did 
      he wander back to the toy section. "He's got the alphabet on his belly, 
      and if you press his hands he makes noises." She sets a glass of lemonade 
      before him, pitcher balanced on one hip before retreating to the fridge 
      again. "Anyway, she adores him. It. Whichever. If she really likes you, 
      she'll bring her firetruck. Maaaybe her jingle stick." Pitcher into the 
      fridge, hip the door closed.
"Thanks," Jon says over her talking when she brings him the glass of lemonade,
      legs crossing at the ankles under his chair, leaning forward to rest 
      elbows on the tabletop. "I won't get my hopes up, given her expression. 
      She looks like she adores you, too," he adds, sipping at the beverage, 
      then deeper in approval.
"I'm Alpha," is Nat's simple answer. "I can't explain it any better than that."
Jon shakes his head a little in contradiction. "Maybe, I've heard the lupus are
      big on that, but--I think it's more than that, don't sell yourself."
Natalie glances up at the silence above but drifts back to the table, and her
      chair. "Who's selling anything? I'm prouder of her than anything, and she 
      knows it. Just... sometimes I look at the two months she's had so far and 
      I could burst, and then I look at how much -more- she needs to learn in 
      two months and my gut seizes up."
Chaney's sneakers make tha-thump-tha-thump-tha-thumpity sounds as she comes
      down the stairs. She appears in the kitchen doorway, flushed, gripping 
      the much-abused Little Leap in one hand and the recorder in the other. 
      "Weep," she says, thrusting the toy at Jon.
Natalie pages to the room: Chaney is brimstone and fire, and thunder rumbles.
      "WEEP!" she commands. And a little voice says, "T sounds like Tree!"
Jon shakes his head a little again, but just smiles, back at the galliard with
      amusement, and is saved from having to respond by Chaney's clattering 
      arrival. He quickly recovers from the thrusting of the toy, looking at it 
      with the importance Chaney gives to it. "Ahhhh, one of these. Will you 
      show me how it works?" he asks, looking up at the cub with a smile.
Natalie murmurs a sardonic, "Jon, meet Little Leap. Little Leap, Jon," over the
      rim of her lemonade, then hushes to let Chaney be.
Chaney puts the recorder on the table and moves closer to the kin to show him
      how the toy works. She presses one of the letters and choruses, with the 
      frog, "D sounds like Dog!" The cub's pronunciation is worse, but she 
      mimicks the toy's tone and inflections perfectly.
Jon throws Natalie a wry look, but then looks assiduously interested back at
      Chaney. "Very good," he says, then points at the 'F'. "What does 'eff' 
      sound like?"
Chaney presses the button and chirps, along with the toy, "F sounds like Frog!"
      Of course it does.
Natalie, who knows very well what 'F' sounds like, thank you, only purses her
      lips together. "What else did you bring to show Jon? You brought your..." 
      trailing off, expectant.
The cub looks over at Natalie. "Wecawdah!" she exclaims, after a brief
      hesitation. Little Leap gets pushed into Jon's hands (or lap), so that 
      Chaney can pick up the simple little instrument and blow into it. She 
      makes a very horrid SQUEAK.
Jon settles the plush frog in his lap as one might arrange a child, back to him
      and centered on one leg, reflexively and visibly wincing at the sound 
      emitted. To Natalie, he says, "Just starting, eh?"
Natalie's a galliard - even if she couldn't play a single note herself there's
      scarcely a worse punishment than listening to *that* - so all she can do 
      at first is nod, her face screwed up like the Gordian knot. "Mmn. Yes. 
      Thank you for sharing that, Chaney. Why don't you have some lemonade 
      now?" Anything but do that again.
Chaney makes three more squeaks on the recorder, all the same note, then looks
      alertly at Natalie. "Wemmin-ayd."
"Drink your lemonade," Nat instructs. "Put down your recorder, and drink your
      lemonade. Jon and I want to talk now."
Chaney obeys, setting down the recorder and going over to claim her glass. She
      holds it in both hands and drinks in careful sips.
Jon pats the seat next to him at Chaney, saying, "Here, you can sit next to
      me," encouragingly. One hand curled protectively around Little Leap, the 
      other reaching for his lemonade again. "I think she's made excellent 
      progress. I mean, she wasn't even *speaking* English two months ago, you 
      say? And she can at least communicate verbally now. The speech people 
      would have a field day."
Natalie agrees, "If they weren't running in terror or hiding behind the couch,
      sure. And yeah, this is part of it. She's having trouble with 'R' sounds 
      - well, you heard. But two months ago she couldn't even ask for a bagle. 
      Or lemonade. Now... well, it's like talking to a toddler." A glance at 
      Chaney. "I TIVOd Good Eats since you suggested it, but we haven't really 
      had a chance to watch. I caught a few minutes, though, and I think it'll 
      be good."
Chaney takes the seat next to Jon without spilling her drink and continues to
      sip it and listen.
"Yes," Jon agrees simply, "but a very bright, mentally advanced toddler, if I
      had to guess. Chaney, do you want *L*eap back?" he turns to ask the cub, 
      with a quiet emphasis on the one letter.
Chaney takes her glass away from her mouth and blinks at Jon. She looks at the
      toy, then at the glass in her hands.
Natalie murmurs, "Lalala-lasagna," then louder, "Chaney, kiddo, put down your
      lemonade, and take Little Leap up to bed. It's bedtime. Can you brush 
      your teeth yourself, or do I need to help you?"
Chaney tips her glass back, taking a final gulp before putting it down on the
      table. "Bwush teef," she affirms, nodding vigorously. She takes the toy 
      from Jon without asking for it, without malice but without manners either.
Since Jon had offered it out to her, Chaney's grasp for the toy is met halfway
      with his lifting it out to her. He dips his head in a polite nod to her, 
      and says, "Good night, Chaney. Happy dreams."
Nat seconds, "Good night, Chaney. I'll come check on you later." Her eyes
      follow after the cub - wistfully? - before she turns back to Jon. "...If 
      you want to run screaming, now's your chance."
"Guh ni Naht," says Chaney solemnly. "Guh ni, Yohn." Then she's off to bed and
      thumping up the stairs.