It is currently 19:50 Pacific Time on Fri Feb 3 2006.

Currently the moon is in the waxing Crescent Moon phase (37% full).

Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 45 degrees
     Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric 
     pressure reading is 29.66 and falling, and the relative humidity is 99 
     percent. The dewpoint is 45 degrees Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius.)

Brownstone -- Basement Apt.(#3328RJ)

The basement of the brownstone has been split into two sections. The stairwell
     leads down into the northwest corner section, which contains the boiler 
     room, furnace, and the elevator shaft. The rest has been converted into 
     another apartment, and Signe's made it into a rather fortified one at 
     that. The only entrance is through a re-enforced steel door with no less 
     than three dead-bolts. There are absolutely no windows at all in any of 
     the four concrete and brick walls. It's a rather stark but functional 
     space. Overhead, the air ducts and plumbing pipes are exposed, while the 
     cement floor is covered by a ragged dark wine and gold Oriental throw rug. 
     A makeshift shelving unit of two-by-fours and cinder block has been 
     erected along the length of the wall with the door, and it houses a 
     stereo, tv and old vcr. Directly opposite this is a beat-up leather couch 
     and two mismatched recliners. The kitchen is small but functional, with a 
     round wooden table and four chairs. Half of the back end of the building 
     has been walled off for a private bedroom, while the rest is open to the 
     living area. This space has been converted into a home gym--complete with 
     wrestling mats, weights, and a full weight boxing bag.

Grey comes a-calling at the Brownstone in the early hours of the evening, his
     knock brisk and businesslike.

The basement dwelling is quiet tonight as Emma comes to the door. The
     obligatory peek through the hole and the locks begin to unturn. The door 
     squeaks open as she greets the Half moon. "Hey, I was going to call later. 
     Come on in."

"Thank you," says Grey, as somber as ever. He enters the basement apartment,
     light-footed, hands folded into his coat pockets. "I gave your invitation 
     a great deal of thought."

Emma nods her head slightly at this, looking unsure as to what to expect. "So
     have I," she hehs softly, then quickly looks up, "Not that it suggests I 
     am renigging. I'm not."

Grey's mouth twitches into a wary frown. He cocks his head, eyeballing her a
     second. "...Good. Because I've decided to accept your offer."

Emma seems almost caught short of breath on that, her eyes blinking once before
     she upturns a slight smirk. "Well, wow. That's good. Um." She lets a puff 
     of breath blurt out between her lips, "You'll need to come before Vex 
     obviously- and. And he will have to accept you too." She glances down 
     then, "Gunnar will no longer be with the pack though, not now."

Grey almost looks like he might smile back. An old hand at packs, he nods to
     the bit about meeting Vex... and then stops nodding when she mentions 
     Gunnar. Any trace of a possible smile vanishes, and the brows pull 
     together again, the eyes underneath them narrowing. "Because of me?" He's 
     either perceptive or paranoid. Or both.

Emma just gives a slight nod. "KL remains loyale, but Gunnar could not come to
     agreement. I said I was taking the pack in the direction I felt it needed 
     to go, so we will go without him."

The door opens and closes with a slam before Dillen sees the people in the
     room. "Fuck. Sorry." He grunts to the two people and moves to pull a 
     satchel out from under the sofa. He just looks like something is wrong, 
     really wrong.

Grey shakes his head, mouth and jaw tight. His attention flicks over toward
     Dillen, and his frown deepens. "Something wrong?"

Emma glances to Grey with an apologetic look, "Dillen, what's going on?"

Dillen pauses and shakes his head. "I dunno... Brom is gone. Went back to Ohio.
     I lose my pack, I gain an apartment for me and Freya. The person that 
     infuriates me the most is gone... Shit." He shakes his head. "Nikolai left 
     as well. Pack is over."

Grey's eyebrows reach for his hairline. "/Left/? With no warning?"

Emma narrows her gaze, "Brom just up and left? Shit heh. It's like this whole
     fuckin place is shifting like a sandstorm. Did he say why?"

"No warning. Just got the news myself. Left a note for me at the pack
     territory. I get his apartment for me and Freya. Gone." Dillen runs a hand 
     through his hair and blows out a long breath. "No real reason. Just that 
     he wanted to go home." Dillen shakes his head and shrugs. "It's Brom. He 
     doesn't need a reason."

Grey snorts. "If he's any kind of a Philodox, he /does/ need a reason. And
     Nikolai as well? So much for Russian honor." The Glass Walker folds his 
     arms across his chest, mouth twisted into a grimace.

Emma huhs softly, "You could always take it over Dillen, or move on." She
     glances between the Galliard and the Walker, thoughtful.

"I mean that is just how Brom sees things." Dillen flops the satchel over his
     shoulder. "At least Freya and I will have the baby in a home. That is 
     good." Dillen runs a hand through his hair, "As far as pack goes, he left 
     Michael as Alpha. I have fought Michael once, lost. I could fight him 
     again. But dammit, we need to be fighting the wyrm, not each other 
     constantly. Too many alpha changes. May find a new pack or... Hell. I 
     dunno."

Grey rubs his beard absently. "Would Michael not be a good alpha, in your
     opinion? And have you talked to the rest of the pack yet?"

Emma clenches her jaw, looking frustrated and annoyed now. "Give yourself time
     to cool your thoughts, then make your decision Dillen."

"It is not that I think that Michael wouldn't be a good alpha, it is that I
     need some stability with a pack. We have not had an Alpha for a 
     significant amount of time. We get going and one leaves or dies." He then 
     stops and looks to Emma. "Yeah. Yeah. You are right. Thanks." He calms 
     some. "Didn't mean to interrupt. Just... Frustration. Sorry."

Grey shakes his head. "Perfectly understandable," he murmurs, pushing his hands
     back into his pockets. His eyes are hooded.

Emma nods her head, "It's cool Dillen. It's kind of a crazy time for the whole
     Sept." She glances to Grey then, returning her attention to him. "If 
     things turn inside out here, I still plan on moving forward. I'll start 
     from scratch if we need to, though I think it's just going to be some 
     shuffling around."

Dillen nods his head. "Sure is." He looks to Grey. "You two been doing all
     right?"

Grey nods to Emma. "If the Sept can survive two packs of Adren and Fostern
     abandoning it during a rebuilding, it can survive two Cliaths taking off 
     without warning."

Emma nods, looking to Dillen with a brief flash of annoyance now. "Can you hang
     on a moment Dillen?" She turns her attention to Grey again, "I'm glad of 
     your choice- KL is set to stick through this no matter what. As am I. If 
     that doesn't dissuade you, then once KL is healed we can seek Vex."

Dillen raises a brow and heads into the back room of the apartment.

Grey watches Dillen leave for a second and then turns back to the girl. "Good,"
     he says, nodding. A hand comes out to comb absently back through his hair. 
     "My first pack was under Wolverine's patronage, you know."

Emma grins a little, "I didn't know that, but - it makes sense now. I knew we
     could pull together a strong pack, and I knew your experience would be 
     helpful. But that? That's priceless." She glances towards the back room 
     where Dillen left to and shakes her head briefly. "I'll let you know when 
     KL is in shape enough to revisit Vex."

Grey's smile is thin and crooked, not quite touching his eyes. "I'll be
     awaiting your call, then." He glances toward where Dillen disappeared off 
     to, and then looks back at Emma. "Is there anything else?"

"Nothing for you to get your hands messy with," she groans slightly, looking
     back to the other room where the Galliard lies. "Thanks for coming by, 
     and-..." Emma seems almost at a loss for words, "stuff. -Oh, if there are 
     any others you might think could serve well under Wolverine, I'd be 
     curious to hear of them."

Grey purses his lips, pausing to think for a moment. "Perhaps one of the
     Gnawers? Or, if Requiem /does/ break up... well."

Emma nods her head, "We'll wait to see how the dust settles for now. Tare care
     Grey." She turns her attention to the back room then, and her tribe mate.


[...]


Elson Commercial District

In the intersection of Fourteenth and Elson, the center of this three-block
     area of Elson Street, an elementary school's playground sits in the one 
     corner not occupied by small businesses. Fenced in by chain-link fencing 
     with the top tilted in to discourage the schoolchildren climbing out, the 
     playground seems fairly well-cared-for. Down towards Fifteenth, the 19th 
     Police Precinct is located, amidst other small businesses - clothes 
     stores, a small electronics store, and a deli and convenience store 
     frequented by the policemen. Their nearby presence seems to make this area 
     a little less dangerous than others, for there seems little evidence of 
     criminal activity here. Even down towards Thirteenth, with its own small 
     businesses and grocery store, is cleaner and more at ease than some of the 
     surrounding areas only a few blocks south.

Grey prowls down the street, moving east from the Brownstone, his hands folded
     into the pockets of his thick green-grey coat.

The ringtone of Grey's cel phone makes itself heard over the general noise of
     the street and cars zooming by.

You paged Val with 'CallerID familiar at all?'.
Val pages: Nope. Just a payphone. :)

It's a very boring ringtone, to be honest. Generic. Probably the phone's
     default. Hearing it, Grey pauses to take it out of his pocket. He squints 
     frowningly at the unknown number and then snaps it open and answers with a 
     curt, "Yes?"

"Hey there!" Responds and overly cheerful voice on the other end. "This is
     Grey, right? Nice woman named Rina gave me this number, said I should talk 
     with you. Gave her a bit of a start I am afraid. Completely unintentional, 
     of course."

Grey's eyes narrow. He moves off to the side, away from the curb and out of the
     usual flow of foot-traffic. "Who is this?"

"Val Konstantopilous," the woman continues cheerfully. "Don't bother trying to
     pronounce the last name, most people can't manage it. This is Grey, right?"

Grey keeps an eye on his surroundings, though like most flightless sorts,
     doesn't look upwards. "It is. What can I do for you?" His voice is cool, 
     guarded, but polite enough.

"Oh, good," Vera continues. "You've probably heard of me then, most just seem
     to refer to me as the bird lady. Was poking around that big house you guys 
     keep and talked to a few of the locals. Seems that you are still having a 
     bit of a cockroach issue, even if the bug in question hasn't been doing 
     anything of late."

Grey folds his arms across his chest, left hand still holding the cellphone to
     his ear. "I thought that'd already been taken care of."

"Nope. I set you guys up all set and ready do go, but no one followed up on
     it," Val continues. "The bug is still out there, according to the locals 
     in that house."

Grey grunts. "Really." He sounds more disgruntled than surprised. He shifts his
     weight, eyeballs a passing knot of college students. "Is there a place we 
     can speak more freely?"

Val says "I can be just about anywhere, so long as you promise to keep your
     temper in check."

Currently the moon is in the waxing Crescent Moon phase (38% full).

Grey grunts again. "Make it the safehouse, then, since you've been there
     already."

"Sure, I'll meet you there!" Click goes the phone, as Val hangs up.


[...]


Safehouse: Common Area(#2947RAJ)

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.

Grey drives up. He seems to be making a habit of this lately. His expression is
     pensive as he lets himself in, a frown etched onto his mouth.

Shortly after Grey arrives and closes the door behind him, someone knocks.

And just as someone knocks, someone else peers a head round the door from the
     Glass Walker's side of the house, a head that looks at Grey a little 
     ambivalently. "Thomas," greets Kevin politely enough.

Grey eyeballs the Ragabash. "Kevin," he greets back. "Sorry to hear about your
     loss." Shrugging out of his coat, he turns to open the door.

Val is on the other side of the door, a smile on her face as she wriggles her
     fingers at the scarred Walker. "Hello there. Grey, right? Seen you before, 
     but not around here. Oh, its Val, by the way."

A woman in her early twenties, Val is whip-thin, with a an angular face, and a
     prominent nose. Dark jet black hair is tied behind the woman's head in a 
     practical pony-tail and is mid-back in length, framing ghostly pale skin. 
     The woman stands a couple of inches under five feet tall, which almost 
     seems to accentuate how thin she is. Val smiles a lot, a cheerfulness that 
     is hard to ignore and is almost contagious in nature.

Currently, the small woman is wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a sky blue
     shirt. A miniature (and slightly bulging) leather backpack sits in the 
     middle of her back, held in place by straps across her shoulders.

"So am I," Kevin says morosely to Grey as he steps into the room fully. "I seem
     to be good at driving people I like out of town." Before he can go 
     further, though, Val's within as well, and he greets her with a silent 
     raised hand.

Grey gives Kevin a curious look at this -- that frown of his never falters --
     but tables it for the moment. "Come in," he invites Val, politely enough. 
     "And have a seat, if you like." He waves her toward the living room area 
     and goes to hang up his coat.

Val comes inside, but remains near the door, lightly shaking her head when she
     is offered a seat. "Thanks, but no thanks. Don't figure I'll be here all 
     that long."

Kevin's eyes linger on Grey a few moments at the philodox's slightly unexpected
     reaction, but possibly because of Val's presence he says no more. "Or a 
     drink? Coffee?" he hazards to the corax politely.

Grey returns from getting rid of the heavy coat and stands nearby, arms folded
     across his chest.

Val shakes her head. "No, no. Thankyou very much. Really just came to mention
     the fact that you still have a roach problem. Fellow is still hanging 
     around, even if he has been quiet. The big guy I made a deal with is still 
     waiting for his TV. Little annoyed, but still amiable enough."

Kevin looks shamefaced as he moves to deal with the doorbell. "I was on the
     sick list for a couple of weeks when we hoped to go in at last full moon," 
     he excuses himself. "I'm after Gunnar to do it this one coming, instead."

"Just the two of you?" Grey frowns, watching Kevin.

Ramona stands outside the door holding a bag of groceries. There's a half-sized
     RV parked outside. "Hi. My name's Ramona. Is Tu around? I was planning to 
     take him up on his offer for a room."

Ramona looks to be about twenty years of age give or take a couple years. From
     her pale complexion, ice blue eyes, and beautifully angular facial 
     features, she's obviously of Nordic descent. While her shoulder blade 
     length hair is dyed black, her true blonde roots are starting to show. Her 
     vision seems to go in and out of focus along with her attention, as if 
     she's a stereotypical ditzy blonde trying to stave off the ditzy blonde 
     jokes. She's also entirely too skinny to be healthy, particularly with her 
     slight build that barely exceeds five feet in height. She might weigh 100 
     lbs give or take 10 lbs. You could probably stuff her down a small 
     ventilation shaft. Her clothes do a lot to diguise how short and thin she 
     is. Matching, fashionable, loose fitting clothes with subtle vertical 
     striping. She wears several rings tastefully encrusted with various 
     sparkling jewels and her ears are each pierced by single diamond earrings. 
     Her nails look well manicured. It's as if she's ready to step out on the 
     town, be it for work or pleasure, so long as it's not in a bad 
     neighborhood.

Val shrugs. "Well, all you really have to do at this stage is give the spirit
     what it wants and bind it into a suitable device. Laptop, phone, something 
     like that would probably work best. Spirit has agreed to call in your 
     problem bug, if we bind it into something. Just have to set it off in a 
     room full of Garou and wait for the bug to arrive." Val falls silent as 
     the door is opened, looking over at the new arrival with a raised eyebrow.

"No," Kevin says cautiously, "no, I think Tu is out. You are a friend of his?
     Or a relative?" This last statement is a very hopeful one, at first 
     glance, given that Ramona is very obviously from a different ethnic 
     grouping from the Tribal elder, but then again...

Grey looks as though he didn't quite follow all of Val's explanation, and the
     arrival of a stranger doesn't help his concentration any. "So much for 
     quiet," he mutters, somewhat toward Val, and eyeballs Ramona, waiting for 
     her reply.

Ramona says to Kevin, "I'm family." She offers a smile and a wink to the
     youngster. "Mind if I come in? You don't look like the type that was born 
     in a barn, but it's so hard to tell sometimes." She looks briefly at the 
     others two people in the room.

A key rattles in the lock, and there is some impatient fumbling at the door
     before Rina thinks to knock. "Hey, somebody let me in?"

Val starts to look distinctly uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot.

Kevin cautiously stands back and lets Ramona enter. Before he can even speak to
     her, he's called on for door duty again, and opens it a second time to 
     reveal Rina standing there jiggling the lock.

And right behind Rina? A shoulder hunched, narrow eyed figure that's bound to be
     familiar. He mounts the steps behind her, but maintains a distance of 
     several feet, and gives her back a wary look.

Rina twists to look over her shoulder, tense. She shakes her head as if to
     clear it of an unpleasant vision, and then looks back up to Kevin. "Is 
     there a /Shadow Lord/ looming behind me? What the fuck?" She steps inside, 
     her expression wavering near a scowl. "Nice t'see you, by the way," she 
     murmurs.

Grey's brow furrows, his expression turning distinctly bemused. As Rina enters,
     his eye immediately goes to her; the kinswoman gains most of his attention 
     suddenly -- enough that he almost forgets to squint and frown narrowly at 
     Abraxas. A few seconds later, courtesy rears its head back up and he turns 
     his eye back to Val. "Perhaps we should go over this another time."

Ramona heads off towards the kitchen with the bag of groceries. "I'll just
     unload these and go get my necessaries from the RV and stay out of 
     everyone's way." She nods to Abraxas as she recognizes a familiar face.

Kevin allows Abraxas through the door before closing it and giving a nod of
     agreement to Grey and Val. "Like I say, I'm on the case," he repeats a 
     little impatiently. His eyes track Ramona through to the kitchen. "Rina," 
     he greets the kin, not looking at her.

Abraxas looks distinctly irritable, though he somehow manages to keep his tone
     relatively normal in spite of that. Or, normal for him. Which means it's 
     flat, and distorted by both hissing and faint slurring. "I can leave." He 
     doesn't yet step further than the door itself.

"Good," Rina says grimly. She flashes Kevin a toothy, insouciant smile, and
     heads over to Grey. "You get my message, I guess?" she asks, quietly.

Val shifts from one foot to another again. "Well, kinda said what I came to
     say. Really should be going now."

"Feel free to call me if you need anything," Grey tells the Corax, maintaining
     that air of distracted politeness. He nods toward Rina. "I did. And then 
     Ms. Konstantopilous called me this evening." Yes, he pronounces the name 
     correctly. "But, as Kevin says, things are already well in hand."

"Oh, come in, Peter, come in," Kevin says tiredly to Abraxas. "There's a draft.
     We won't eat you, man."

Rina nods minutely. "Good," she murmurs. Turning, she looks across to Kevin.
     "What's /he/ doing here?" she asks, with a jerk of her chin to Abraxas.

Abraxas gives Rina a considerably dark look, which only gets narrower at her
     second comment. He shifts it to Kevin, though briefly--the Ragabash gets 
     the tail end, as if he forgets to turn it off right away. "If you say so."

Val wriggles her fingers at Abraxas, then heads for the exit.

Abraxas also nods very slightly to Val.

Grey says nothing for the moment; instead, he looms next to Rina like a large,
     shaggy dog. The kind that'll bite before it barks.

"Come on, Rina," Kevin says, still in that tired voice. "He's got as much right
     as any of us to be here as a guest while in the city. Play friendly."

"I'd prefer you didn't," Abraxas grits. "If you've got something to say, say
     it. I get enough runaround from my own tribe."

Rina merely wrinkles her nose, and turns to Grey. "One-armed latte?" she
     proposes.

Grey grunts. "Sure." He gives the Shadow Lord another dose of the hairy
     eyeball, then turns to escort Rina back toward the kitchen.

Val slips out the door and out of sight.

Rina mutters something in Italian under her breath, and walks into the kitchen
     with Grey. Pain washes over her face as soon as her back is turned to the 
     others. She rummages through cabinets, her features taut with strain.

Kevin stands there with Abraxas again. "Anything more from the philodoxes?" he
     asks, with the swiftest opf headjerks towards the kitchen and Grey.

Abraxas watches both Walkers leave with a glower, and then starts into the
     living room. He's stiff-legged, a thing which might look fierce on an 
     upset lupus, but turns out rather funny on a homid. Still, his temper is 
     visible. "Nothing." His head jerks over his shoulder. "When did I spit in 
     her fucking cereal?"

In the kitchen, Grey says quietly to Rina, "Let me." He nudges her to a seat at
     the table and hunts down the necessary components himself.

Rina sits down carefully, ducking her head over the plaster-bound arm. "I guess
     there's a downside to the whole open door policy," she mutters.

Not much time passes before a bit of jingling at the door resolves into it
     opening again. Pocketing her keys with her right hand and a bit of 
     squirming, she carefully balances a supremely large commercial coffee cup 
     in the other. Slim shoulders curve a little under the weight of the 
     backpack she carries, but her downturned face doesn't show any discomfort. 
     Easing herself inside, she shuts the door behind her quietly and raises 
     her head to sweep a brief glance around the immediate interior. Her eyes 
     stop on the back of the dark-haired person in front of her then slide 
     gradually around to focus on Kevin with a bit brighter expression.

Grey shrugs at Rina. "Don't worry about it overmuch," he advises her. "How's
     the arm?"

"Don't ask me," Kevin says. "After these last few days I came yay close," he
     indicates with his fingers, "to leaving town entirely. I've had it with 
     the whole place, I thought..." And then he smiles. "But then in comes one 
     of the reasons I couldn't leave. Aimee. C'mere." He wraps an arm round 
     her. "Aimee, this guy's Peter. One of the Shadow Lords." He doesn't speak 
     the name of the tribe in anything but a carefully neutral way.

"Itchy," Rina murmurs, staring at the table. She's quiet for a moment or two,
     and then she twists in the chair, looking over her shoulder to Grey.

Abraxas turns to face Aimee, and his expression, still glowering, nevertheless
     manages to give the impression of sizing the other girl up. "...Hello." He 
     glances briefly toward Kevin, but offers no return remark.

Grey has been hanging around Rina long enough to pick up the ways and whyfores
     of making lattes and other fancy beverages. He nods, giving her a brief, 
     sympathetic look, and then turns away. "Emma invited me into Havoc," he 
     notes. Though he's not whispering, he's not pitching his voice to carry 
     past the kitchen, either.

Aimee smiles sunnily at her name and slips into the embrace with familiar ease,
     looking from Kevin to the newly introduced Peter. "Oh? Well, hey. Good to 
     meet you an' all, Peter." she offers evenly under the seeming scrutiny, 
     bobbing her head in a welcoming nod. "'M not interrupting nothing, am I, 
     Kev?" comes the soft query that precedes a sip of hot beverage.

Kevin lets Aimee go so she can drink her coffee. "I'm just way glad to see that
     /someone/ close to me is still in town," he says darkly. "Brom's quit. Had 
     to go home. Family stuff."

Rina actually smiles, the expression unfortunately going unseen and
     unappreciated. "That's great," she answers softly. "That's-- that's really 
     good."

Abraxas grunts at Kevin's bit of news, narrows his eyes a tiny bit further, and
     turns back toward his original destination, that being one of the chairs 
     in the living room. "Too bad. He fought well." He takes a seat, though he 
     balances mostly on the edge, as if he were anticipating having to leap up 
     at any moment. Relaxed this man ain't.

Grey glances back over his shoulder at Rina. "Well," he says, a trifle
     awkwardly. "I still have to be accepted by the pack's patron. I don't 
     anticipate difficulty, though." He takes a moment to lean against the 
     counter, facing her with his arms loosely crossed over his chest.

Aimee's eyes pop a bit at the news and she pauses in mid-sip to eye Kevin and
     gauge that the statement was not a joke. Lowering the cup, she licks her 
     lips quickly and frowns. "Damn. Never thought I'd see somethin' like that 
     happen. Then again, lotsa things have happened since term started that I 
     thought I'd never see." she says, a wavering sarcasm tingeing her last 
     statement. "Well, rest assured, I'm not runnin' out on ya. Kay?"

Kevin finds a thin smile for Aimee. "Never meet your heroes," he mutters, "they
     always turn out to have clay feet." He sits too, opposite Abraxas, to whom 
     he also gives a kind of smile.

"This is true," Abraxas replies, flat as ever. He clasps his hands on his knees
     and flicks a brief, suspicious look toward the kitchen.

"Good..." Rina's dark eyes stray toward the rest of the house. Her brow
     furrows. "Who's that?"

Grey follows the Italian woman's glance. "Hmm?"

Aimee wrinkles her nose and shrugs out of her backpack's straps, shifting the
     cup from one hand to the other to do so. "Don't always follow your best 
     friends...or you'll always be chasing a shadow of what you usedta know." 
     she intones in an attempt at sagely wisdom that only sounds regretful. 
     "Ah, well, at least I have school to keep busy outsida everything else." 
     She opts to find something to lean against rather than sit.

Abraxas looks slightly more interested as he turns his attention back to Aimee.
     "You attend school?"

"Brom invited me to go with him," Kevin says quietly. "Don't think I wasn't
     tempted... but there was too much to keep me here, in the end."

Rina's chair scrapes back as she gets up and paces from the kitchen. Curiosity
     shows in her eyes as she steps out to join them.

Aimee's eyes flick concernedly over Kevin, faintly sympathetic but guarded in
     how much of that emotion they show. At the question, she focuses on Peter 
     and nods. "Yeah. I'm going for a networking degree over at SCCU. Easy 
     work, but at least it'll get me paper that says I can do what the hell I 
     already know how to do."

Grey's brow furrows. He follows her a few moments after, carrying the so-called
     one-armed latte (well, two-armed, really, since his isn't in a cast).

The look on the Shadow Lord's face, while clearly trying to remain
     expressionless and neutral, nevertheless dissolves into obvious confusion 
     as Aimee goes over details. It's quite clear he hasn't really understood a 
     single word she just said. "...I see."

"You gotta have paper," Kevin agrees. "--Computers and things, Peter," he
     interjects to Abraxas. "Thankfully I got my job with Tu. Getting 
     qualifications for me would be a struggle."

Aimee snorts over her cup and shakes her head, "Thanks to mother nature giving
     me tits I need stupid fucking paper. Hell, I prolly coulda stayed home and 
     gotten a job through Dear Daddy, but I wanted outta Mom's house." Looking 
     over towards the kitchen, she offers a welcoming smile, albeit a tense one 
     after her statements.

"Hey," Rina says, her eyes shadowed, preoccupied. She paces over to the girl,
     offering her left hand--the one not in a cast. "I'm Rina, I don't think 
     we've met...?"

Grey pauses at the very edge of the gathering, mug in hand, his scarred face
     bland. His good eye fixes on Aimee, studying her.

	Standing about five-four, Aimee is in no way an imposing person. Cute to a
     fault, her slim frame and gentle proportions make her out to be quite the 
     mild-mannered girl. A round, sweet face bears a slender nose, and a 
     generous, yet slim-lipped, mouth. Fine brows arch above almond-shaped eyes 
     of soft blue with thick dark lashes. Pale skin only seems to accent the 
     gentleness of her features. Mid-back length hair is a light amber-brown on 
     top with a thick layer of black peeking through beneath. Slender arms, 
     legs, and torso attest to some passing acquaintance with regular exercise.

	A ludicrously bright pink tee-shirt, its color only broken by the large
     glitter star on its front, covers her torso. Below that is a pair of black 
     cargo pants, covered in pockets, that spills over the tops of thick-soled 
     black shoes with scuffed toes. A thin gold chain with a small rose-shaped 
     pendant is around her neck.

Rina has returned, and that means whatever bit of glower remained in Abraxas'
     expression returns full force. He turns his gaze to the ground, however, 
     rather than the other Walker kin, and generally busies himself in looking 
     angry.

"Rina? Oh! Hey! I'm Aimee." Shifting her cup to her right hand, Aimee takes
     that left hand in hers in kind, "You rang me 'bout a month back, but I 
     don't think we'd run into each other yet. I'd remember it, I'm sure. Steel 
     trap up here and all." She gestures to her head and smiles a bit more 
     easily after the introduction. The cast garners a look of polite concern 
     and a softer, "What happened to your arm, if I may ask?"

"Rina," Kevin says belatedly, "this is Aimee, my... girlfriend." He still seems
     unable to say that last word without a preparatory run-up. "Aimee, this is 
     Rina..." He shuts up then and lets the two women talk, with a further 
     glance at Peter Abraxas.

Rina flashes a devil-may-care grin, and lifts her good shoulder. "Business
     disagreement," she answers. "So you're at SCCU... I been thinkin' I might 
     go back."

Grey's right eyebrow flicks upward at 'girlfriend', and his gaze hops from
     Aimee to Kevin and back again. His expression's hard to read, though, as 
     he moves forward to take a spot next to Rina. Wordlessly, he offers her 
     the mug of latte.

Rina favors Kevin with a blink, and then looks back to Aimee, one eyebrow
     raised. She takes the mug from Grey, offering him a swift, soft look that 
     might almost be qualified as 'domestic affection.' "Thanks, caro."

If Abraxas looked uncomfortable in that seat before, he's doubly rigid and
     ready to spring now. He misses the glance from Kevin. His gaze is locked 
     on the floor and his own two sneakers (which look, frankly, ready to fall 
     apart) and not budging.

Aimee gives an expansive and encompassing 'aaah' to the notion of a
     disagreement and grins. The grin broadens at Kevin's words and the ensuing 
     looks before she rambles on gamely, "Yah. Gettin' paper that'd do just as 
     well in a canary's cage as in a frame. But, hey, s'long as it gets me a 
     little more respect and less attention to the assets, I'm happy."

Kevin nods and stands just behind Aimee proudly, as though showing her off.
     "She's got tech smarts," he boasts, "and she can kick most anyone's ass at 
     DDR too."

Grey nods absently in reply to Rina's thanks, his eye going toward Abraxas
     again. Inevitably, his gaze follows that of the Shadow Lord, and he, too, 
     notes the sad, sorry state of the Metis' footwear.

Rina offers Aimee a winning smile. "Hey, if you're good at DDR, obviously we
     should take you out dancing sometime. You do programming, or just 
     networking stuff?"

The Shadow Lord seems oblivious, or at least determined to appear that way, to
     Grey's gaze, for at least a few moments. Then, as if he can feel the 
     other's eyes, his own narrowed ones flick up to the source. It's ever so 
     brief, no sooner up than back down to the shoes again.

Aimee looks over her shoulder at Kevin and smiles, "Well, one of my biggest
     competitors is outta the local scene now, so the list of defeats has 
     dropped there." A flash of wistfulness runs across her face before Rina 
     distracts her with the magic three letters and her forte. "'M always up 
     for a good turn on the floor or the pads. I'm mostly networking and 
     security, really. I can build networks in my sleep and have built a 
     program or fifteen to back up what the bigger names don't cover in terms 
     of keeping it tight."

Grey turns his attention toward the others' conversation. He doesn't ignore
     Abraxas, though, but keeps half an eyeball on the scruffy Shadow Lord. One 
     would think Grey didn't trust him.

Kevin rubs his forehead. "Yeah, one less challenge to our supremacy," he says
     without any relish at all. "Didn't know you mashed arrows, Rina. We should 
     have a session sometime."

Not trust him? A shock! Well no, not really. After another brief period of time
     Abraxas once more turns his head, ever so slightly, to observe the elder 
     Walker in return. He apparently finds Grey more interesting than his shoes.

Rina smiles. "I don't mash arrows," Rina answers. "I just dance." She gives
     Kevin a toothy grin.

"That she does," Grey remarks.

Aimee elbows Kevin gently and smirks, "There's more to dance than DDR, ya know.
     It's good practice though, 'specially if you freestyle. Me, I'll take a 
     club, a rave, anything with a good beat that stays jumpin'."

"I don't just do DDR either," Kevin points out, piqued. "I just misunderstood
     you, Rina. So you go dancing with Thomas?" He follows Abraxas' lead in 
     looking at Grey, as though trying to picture the hard-bitten philodox 
     getting down and boogieing.

Rina snorts. "I wish." She slants a smile to Grey. "Although I /have/
     occasionally talked him into being dragged along to be the looming 
     bodyguard."

Grey looks right back at Kevin, arms folded across his chest. "I don't dance,"
     he tells the Ragabash, blandly. Standing there at Rina's side, he /does/ 
     cut an intimidating figure of bodyguard-ness.

Kevin looks at Grey as though judging him, and coming to the conclusion that he
     looks more like a bodyguard than a dancer. "Keeps you fit," he chirrups. 
     "Helps your footwork."

"No, somehow I didn't think you did, but not in a bad way!" Aimee quips,
     gesturi at Grey with her cup broadly and looking quite bright-eyed at the 
     topic. Turns her head, she bats her eyes daintily at Kevin and visibly 
     resists a snicker, "And lands you hot, geeky chicks from outta town, 
     mmmmmm?"

Rina frowns. "Never seemed to work that way for me..." she muses.

Kevin goes a fetching shade of pink and seems to hide behind Aimee at that one.
     "Mmm hmm," he manages to mutter in a kind of strangulated way.

Grey's eye now turns to Rina. He snorts at her, though in a roughly amused sort
     of way. "No 'hot geeky chicks' for you? I know better."

Aimee looks content and smug as she sips her coffee again, the expression
     almost feline in its overtly pleased nature. "Well, there's got to be an 
     equivalent for us gals, you know? I just don't know what I'd call it."

One corner of Rina's smile tugs upward, and she sips at her drink, eyes veiled
     for a moment. "Well," she temporizes, "she's not really from out of town."

Kevin is still in a state of confusion and pinkness. He addresses the silent
     Abraxas. "What about you?" he extemporises. "You much of a dancer?"

Grey, while Kevin is distracted, gives Rina a thin, knowing little smirk.
     "Details, details."

That actually does draw Abraxas' attention away from Grey. He starts to peer at
     Rina, expression shifting into something that isn't quite describable, but 
     Kevin derails him. "...You've got to be kidding me."

Aimee raises an eyebrow at Rina for a moment, then chuckles and uses her free
     hand to tuck her hair back behind her left ear a bit. The exchange between 
     Kevin and Abraxas divides her attention, and she offers gamely, "I'm sure 
     everyone, at some point, learned how to at least -sway- to the music. 
     That's almost dancing...."

"Even Grey here can keep a beat if pushed to it," Rina adds, giving him a wry,
     sidelong look.

Kevin shakes his head defensively. "No, man," he protests, "serious. What you
     got don't stop you dancing?"

Grey sidelongs a look right back at Rina. "I /can/ dance," he informs her. "I
     just don't. Not that... thing you do." He gestures vaguely.

Abraxas's demeanor turns generally stiff and expressionless. "Well I can't. I
     don't know how, and it's not really...important." A suspicious look is 
     turned on Kevin. "Is it?"

Aimee glances between the two dance-exchanges and snickers to herself. "S'got a
     good beat, I can dance to it. I'll give it an '85', Dick." Shaking her 
     head, she stifles herself in her coffee for a moment or two.

"Uh, no. Just, fun. You remember fun?" Kevin asks Abraxas carefully, as though
     he's not quite sure whether the metis has ever really done 'fun'.

Rina makes a choked sound, and then gives up and laughs, shaking her head and
     drinking down some of her coffee.

From the look Abraxas gives Kevin, one might entertain the suspicion that he
     doesn't. His gaze jerks toward Rina as she laughs, and those eyes narrow 
     to dark and tiny slits.

Grey just shakes his head at Rina, but the amused look he gives her evaporates
     when he glances over at Abraxas. Again, he fixes the Shadow Lord with a 
     flat stare.

Rina's laughter dies in seconds, and she looks across warily to Abraxas. "Not
     you," she says, her voice guarded.

Aimee's shoulders shake to let out her own amusement in a less boisterous
     fashion that ends with her shaking her head and lowering her cup. Popping 
     the lid, she peers inside and remarks, offhandedly, "Mmmm, running low. Ze 
     brew, she goes quickvee..."

"Dancing is fun," persists Kevin. "Makes you feel in touch with your body, like
     running... does me anyway..." He tails off as Abraxas's black expression 
     doesn't soften.

Abraxas's eyes shift to Grey, then back to Rina, and then abruptly drop back to
     his own shoes. It's a moment before he seems to find his voice, but when 
     he does, it's edged with tension. "I'm not interested in dancing."

"Probably too dangerous," Rina says quietly. She watches the Shadow Lord
     through narrowed eyes. "For you."

Grey grunts, but otherwise offers no comment.

Aimee seems very interested in the contents of her cup, though it's obvious
     she's trying to not get involved in the downturn in conversation from the 
     brief flicks of her eyes to the others involved.

Kevin perseveres. "What /do/ you do to relax? Have a good time?" he asks
     Abraxas a little frustratedly.

"He doesn't," Rina says softly. She paces to where Abraxas sits, slowly, and
     drops to crouch directly in front of him. Looking up into his face, her 
     own eyes intent, she almost whispers, "Isn't that right? All work and no 
     play..."

Abraxas stiffens considerably as Rina gets closer--especially when she gets
     /that/ close. One can see the invisible hackles raising, the increased 
     tension. His voice, however, remains irritatingly flat and uninflected, 
     and his eyes studiously avoid hers. "That's right."

Grey stiffens, his weight shifting into an alert stance, his attention
     sharpening and all trace of humor vanishing. He watches Rina and Abraxas, 
     arms unfolded, looking ready to leap forward and kill at the slightest 
     word from the former, or the slightest wrong move from the latter.

Kevin eyes Abraxas for a long second. "Yeah," he says then, "yeah, I can
     believe that, actually..."

Aimee looks up from her cup sharply, following Rina's movements tensely. "I
     should go study, or something. Came out here to escape Friday night on 
     campus, anyway." she murmurs to Kevin quietly, stooping slightly to get 
     her backpack into her hand but not moving any more than that as yet.

"Don't be such a dull boy, Jack," Rina murmurs, low and even. "Y'oughta come
     out and play sometime." Abruptly, she straightens, turning to ask Aimee, 
     "Any good parties this weekend?"

A tiny shiver passes over Abraxas's face. The look he gives the turned-away
     Rina is one of very tightly bundled fury mixed with something else that 
     isn't quite decipherable. He puts both hands on the chair's arms and 
     pushes upward. He's already twisting, as if to stand, yes, but also avoid 
     all contact with the kin whatsoever.

Kevin makes an instinctive movement closer to Aimee.

Grey stares at Rina, blood leeching out of his face. His fingers twitch, not
     quite clenching into fists. Then he turns and stalks toward the rear of 
     the house, heading for the back door.

Aimee blinks at the abrupt switch of Rina's focus and wrinkles her nose a mite
     nervously. Looking up at the ceiling in thought over the question, she 
     blows out a gusty breath and shrugs, "This weekend? Eh, not unless you 
     wanna go watch football all damn day. Super Bowl Weekend is not the 
     highlight of my year. I'd rather go kick noob ass on Halo or something. 
     B'sides, unless its a rave, I don't usually pay attention." The cup in her 
     hand is held tightly, a little shy of white-knuckle but damn close.

Rina nods, sipping at her latte. "Yeah... I oughta work, anyway." Her brow
     furrows slightly, and she glances over her shoulder to watch Grey's 
     retreat.

Abraxas is slightly derailed in his own retreat by Grey's movement--he jerks
     his head toward the man, fists clenching, looking for all the world as 
     though he expects an attack. When it doesn't come, his gaze shifts not to 
     Rina, but Kevin. He looks positively venomous. "I'm not going to fucking 
     /eat/ her," he snarls lowly, then, in true Soap fashion, he heads for the 
     opposite door.

Kevin remains tense and ready to leap to the defence of the kin as the two
     angry garou stalk off in opposite directions.

Rina observes the Shadow Lord through narrowed eyes. Her gaze softens as she
     looks to Kevin. "Hey... keep in touch, aright? I been wonderin' about you."

The back door slams as Grey storms out through it.

Rina starts at the sudden, violent noise; a flicker of alarm awakens in her
     eyes, and then she looks to Kevin and Aimee, somewhat crestfallen and 
     apologetic. "I'm guessing that's my fault," she murmurs.

Abraxas gets far enough as to put his hand on the front door handle, before he
     stops. After a moment's hesitation he turns and instead makes for the 
     stairs, climbs them with deceptively quiet steps, and disappears from 
     sight.

Aimee's shoulders stiffen, eyes closing sharply at the heavy sound of the door
     makes her jump. "Jumpin' Jiminy Jesus Christ on a crutch with a side of 
     fries...." she whispers, shivering a moment despite knowing exactly where 
     Kevin is near her. "No being the cream middle in the Garou Oreo for me. 
     Nonononono..."

Kevin is acting more and more defensively. "Wondering?" he says nervously to
     Rina, before Abraxas pulls back from the door and strides upstairs. Only 
     when he's finally out of sight does Kevin exhale.

A moment later, a door upstairs opens then shuts (not slams, it's almost eerie
     how quietly it clicks), followed by the sound of the shower turning on.

Rina swallows, and looks back to Kevin. "Yeah. You know, wonderin' how you were
     doing, if you were gettin' along okay..."

Aimee doesn't stsrt relaxing, herself, until she hears that breath from Kevin.
     Then her shoulders slump forward a bit and she lets her backpack slide 
     heavily to the floor so she rub her face with the now unoccupied hand. 
     "And some people wonder about the price of tea in China...."

Kevin finally, now that he's the only garou present, allows himself to show his
     feelings. "Okay. No, I'm not okay, actually. Two of my best friends have 
     quit town, one with a family tragedy, one because some completely 
     ridiculous drama blew out of nowhere and now people are calling for his 
     goddamn /head/ when he was pretty much the most helpful and dedicated kin 
     we /had/, no offence to you two. Goodness knows what'll happen to my pack. 
     Goodness knows what'll happen to us /all/. No. That's why I'm not okay."

With sober eyes, Rina studies Kevin carefully; she goes so far as to put a hand
     on his arm. "Easy. There's not much you or I can do about Jer, except try 
     to pull the strings that we have. No sense worryin' over it. He'll take 
     care of himself, even if they /do/ make the wrong choice."

Aimee tenses again a little and tosses back the remains of her coffee at
     mention of Jeremy. "Sure as hell not a fat fuckin' lot -could- be done 
     about it." she mutters, scooping up her backpack again and making for the 
     couch like its a well-stuffed island of refuge.

Kevin sits on the couch, leaning forward, elbows on knees. "Those goddamn
     philodox with their heads on the goddamn clouds," he grumbles. "Like they 
     were there, any of them, making split second decisions in a crisis. Apart 
     from that flaming Silver Fang lupus who ought to be getting her ass kicked 
     for running round in lupus, but no, she's cool, she's a /Fang/."

Rina gives Kevin's shoulder a squeeze. "You want somethin' to drink?" she asks
     quietly.

"No, if I drink any more coffee I'll get caffeine jitters," Kevin says. "I
     should try and go sleep."

Rina nods. "I'm gonna go see if I can peel Grey off the ceiling, then," she
     murmurs. "Wish me luck?" A wry smile tugs at her lips.

"Luck," Kevin says curtly. "I guess I'll be here a bit more now, so maybe I'll
     see you some more too."

Aimee looks up with wide eyes and gives a mock thumbs-up to the other woman.
     "Go get 'em tiger! Best of luck to you!" She tries to keep the majority of 
     disbelief off her expression, looking at best dubious about the prospect.

Rina flashes Aimee a smile. "Nice to finally meetcha." She makes her way out by
     the back door, still carrying the cup with her.

Kevin is left with Aimee. He looks at her wanly. "Just tell me you're not
     leaving too," he pleads in tones that are verging on the pathetic.