Location: Industrial Sector, Southwest Side
J.C. slouches just inside an alleyway, hands stuffed into her pockets and shoulders hunched. She's coughing steadily, though not vigorously, eyes closed.
Kaz, limping, has a french fry stuck in her mouth, like a cigarette. Occasionally, more of it disappears into her mouth. She's heading from the direction of Regan Street, clearly heading for J.C.
The coughing stops briefly, and the Ratkin's breath hitches. Using the dirty brick to brace herself, she leans over, looking and sounding like she's about to puke all over the pavement. In the end, though, she only spits out a wad of bile and snot and then sags back, half-flattening her backpack against the wall and wiping wearily at her mouth.
Kaz, McDonald's bag in hand, finally finishes the fry, letting it disappear into her mouth. She slides into the alley, and, wordlessly, offers JC a rag that probably used to be a shirt. A new kind of Kleenex.
J.C. startles a bit as she looks up, and then gives the Bone Gnawer a pleased, if weary, grin. "Renee said you lived. Glad t'see it in the flesh." She uses the rag to wipe her mouth, then blows her nose, wetly, into it.
Kaz quirks a tired smile. Confronted with someone who hardly knows her, she seems much less wary of touch, or emotion, or anything else. "Yah. Wasn't no fun, but I'm still here, at least. Thought I'd come say hey."
J.C. blows her nose again, and then offers the makeshift handkerchief back. "Ya look like shit. Um. I can kinda help ya with that."
Kaz stuffs it back in her pocket. She looks down at her legs. "Uh. This is mostly permanent now, I think."
J.C. follows the Gnawer's glance, then ohs. "Sucks. Bum knee, fucked hip?"
Kaz nods, a little glumly. "I got real fucked up. I mean, I was already slow as shit, but this fuckin' /hurts/."
J.C. shakes her head. "Sucks," says the Ratkin again, sympathetically. "But ya kicked the other bastards out, right?"
Kaz nods. "Ohhhhh yeah. Though, there's still some assholes hangin' around, an' I'm bettin' some've 'em'll go to ground around here, so, y'know, keep a lookout, 'cause you dyin'd kinda suck."
J.C. grins wanly. "No arguement there. No fuckin' arguement at all."
Kaz adds, "Though, I gotta question. Or a comment. Or a different head's up. Or somethin'."
J.C. blinks watery eyes and cocks her head. "Yeah?"
Kaz shrugs. "Coupla folks as looked like your crew was hangin' out with them Dancers."
J.C. blinks, hesitates, and then makes a wan half-smile. "No way."
From afar, Kaz can't tell if that's real surprise, or faked surprised.
You paged Kaz with 'Little of both. She didn't know they were there, but she knows that some Ratkin go to the Wyrm.'.
Kaz snorts softly. "Yeah, way. Pain in the ass."
"Shit." J.C. rubs at the back of her neck and chews on this for a second. "Ya get a look at 'em?"
Kaz says, a little wryly, "I was still kinda frothy, there." She gives a truly vague description, with one or two actual useful identifiers, then adds, "Might ask Anneka; she's the one as pointed 'em out to me." There's a pause. "Anneka bein' my packmate. She's kinda naive, though."
J.C. nods slowly. "I know they ain't from where /I/ grew up," says the Ratkin firmly. "Back home, we find a Rat gone to the Big Centipede, we kill his ass and feed him to the ratlings."
Kaz says, "Sounds like a fuckin' /plan/. An' the /great/ thing about this is, we got a lot of people don't know Rat's folk at all, so they'll be assumin' y'all're /all/ Wyrmy." She shakes her head, disgustedly.
J.C. snuffles, then shrugs. "Your people tend ta think we're all Wyrmy /anyway/. Always have. S'why we ain't got no talekeepers no more."
Kaz blinks. "Wait, what the fuck?"
J.C. squints at the Gnawer. "'Member that war, back when, when your muckityfuckers decided to lord over everybody else?"
Kaz says, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, we killed everyone that mattered." My, she sounds bitter. "Fuckin' moron assholes. But, like, killin' alla the /talekeepers/?"
J.C. wrinkles up her nose. "Was our talekeepers that did all th' dealin' with the other types, 'specially wolf elders. So they were the first t'get rounded up. 'N none escaped."
Kaz says, feelingly, "Shit."
"So," says Jenny, "we got no talekeepers." She snuffles, as much tired as bitter. "Wasn't /you/ guys, though, 'least not against us Rats. S'why Mama Rat still favors you 'n stuff."
Kaz says, "Us? Fuck no, it was them fuckin' Get and Lords and Fangs, but that don't /help/, because us Gnawers is still Garou, y'know, an'... Well, I'd like to /know/ some talekeepers."
J.C. says, grimacing, "Ain't a fuckin' one been born since the last one got killed."
Kaz sighs. "Fuckin' A. Why's that? I mean, you'd /think/ there'd still be th' genes around..."
J.C. sniffs. "It's mystical. 'Sides, there's nobody to pass on th' stuff that only the talekeepers knew."
Kaz says, "Spirits is weird, it's true. Though, y'know, someone t'keep th' /new/ stories..." She trails off. "Anyways. You want help trackin' down them friendly fellows we ran into, just holler."
J.C. nods. "Sure thing."
Kaz says, "'Cuz, you know, I'm all into huntin' alla them people as killed my packmates. Anyways. I oughta go do shit, yeah?"
J.C. nods, then summons up some of that ol' Cornpop grin. "Keep in touch, yeah? 'N lemme talk t'yer friend Anneka sometime."
Kaz nods. "Yeah. I'm all into keeping in touch, too. I'll catch you later." Before she leaves, she offers JC the McDonald's bag.
J.C. accepts the offering with a "Hey, thanks." She ain't proud.
Kaz mutters, "Welcome," steals a fry from it, and wanders off.