Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 44 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the northwest at 6 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.77 and falling, and the relative humidity is 62 percent. The dewpoint is 32 degrees Fahrenheit (0 degrees Celsius.)
Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent Moon phase (29% full).
Andy's Old Fashioned Donuts
A small quaint donut shop, tastefully done in blue and white. A glass case, showing a variety of fresh donuts stands at the back of the store. Standing behind the glass case, a small old woman, looking to be in her sixties, is busy with customers. A young girl, slightly taller than the old woman and looking to be around sixteen rushes back and forth through a swinging door, bringing out trays of donuts or coffee or other delicious smelling items.
A sturdy door to the south opens out onto the street. Small round metal tables have been set out near the window, '+help places' will assist you in seating.
J.C. sits hunched in a corner table with her hands wrapped around a cup of coffee. Every so often, she wipes at her nose; her bloodshot eyes twitch restlessly around the room, keeping an eye on the door most often.
A street dog trots past, oversized paws declairing it little more then a puppy. The animal passes the store, then returns just after it had passed out of view. Nose to the ground, the dog comes to a stop at the Donut Shop's entrance way. Trottong over to a window, Runs sticks her paws on the ledging and takes a look inside.
J.C.'s face does a bit of a twitch as she spots a dog staring into the shop. She grimaces, ducking her head down to slurp at her coffee.
And the dog disapears, its golden eyes no-longer stareing into the donut joint. J.C. is left in peace for a good five, mabye ten minutes before a hunched form makes its way into the shop and toward her table.
J.C.'s eyes flick up; she's hyper-alert in the twitchy, spastic manner of a paranoid.
Renee continues to make her way toward Jenny's table, eyes fixed to the floor and hands stuffed into her pockets. She'll take a seat across from the ratkin, if J.C. doesn't try to make a break for it.
J.C. shifts her weight in her chair, but doesn't get up from it. Her hands remain closed around her cup of hot coffee as she stares warily at Renee.
Renee slips into the chair oposet Jenny, fingernails running across the hard surface. "I'm sorry for makin' ya bite your tongue," she rumbles softly. "I was worried, then I got mad. Donna think so strait when I get mad."
J.C. crinkles her nose and squints at the girl. "Shit happens," she replies, neutrally. The wariness remains; there's no trace of that crooked-toothed grin.
Renee sighs. "I'm sorry," she apologizes rather pathetically. "I ain't gonna mention ya to the others."
J.C.'s expression softens, relenting. She reaches over to pat the kid on the hand. "Nothin' t'mention, kid. I ain't here t'fuck nobody. Thanks, though."
Renee looks up and grins. "I like ya an' I don't have many friends. I tend ta scare people, always have." The girl's braid is draped over her shoulder and tuged at thoughtfully. "I'm in shit for the kitchen. Was pissy enough that I kinda made a mess." She shugs. "Donna know is I'll still be allowed ta crash there."
J.C. wipes her nose with the back of her hand. "Ah, fuck. Sorry, kiddo."
Renee shrugs, after giving the braid another tug. "My fault. Shouldn't have let myself get that mad, but its hard sometimes." The braid is released and she scratches at a filthy cheek. "I was thinkin'. Rat? Like mama Rat? Couldn't think a anyone else who'd be livin' here."
J.C. snorts back a noseful of snot, swallows, and takes a gulp of coffee. "Mama's chosen, girl, 'n don't forget it." She flashes a brief grin, just for a moment. "That rat y'saw, though? Was he a big black hairy motherfucker wit' a smartass look in 'is eyes?"
Renee nods. "Yea. Went inta the shadows, then I couldn't find him." A curious look enters the girl's eyes, as she studies teh woman across from her. "Why are ya sick all that time? We donna have that problem."
J.C. nods. "That's Blackie. He's a bastard." She grins again, then lowers her voice a bit more. "He's a spirit. Pretty much does whatevva'th'fuck he wants." She sniffs again. "Th' other thing?" Her shoulders twitch into a shrug. "It's jus' me. Kinda personal, y'know. Shit like that."
Renee's nose wrinkles. "Okay, if ya say so. Donna make much sense ta me, being sick and all." The Gnawer shrugs, droping that subject. "Do ya think I could meet him?" A pause. "Iff'in he wouldn't object. I like that side, but canna go that often. Too much weird shit wandering around."
J.C. squints a bit at that, then shrugs, that grin of hers creeping back again. "Sure. Don't think it'd hurt, if yer really down-cool wit' Mama. When Moonpie gets fat again, 'kay?"
Renee blushes a bit, when she is squinted at. "I'm just a kid, really. Boss-types don't like me goin' there alone, but they're usually to busy ta take me."
"Hey, we was all little 'lings at one point 'r 'nuther." J.C. utters a brief 'heh' and sips coffee.
There is a pause, before Renee speaks up again. "We did get the guy you were talkin' about before. He'd been wanderin' around for years without anyone ta tell him stuff, so he was a bit fucked in the head."
J.C. scratches at her chin. "Y'really kill him?"
Renee gives her head a shake. "Not me, someone else. I heard about it afterward and stuff."
J.C. gives the interior of the donut shop a glance-over, enough to verify that no, nobody's wandering into earshot. Then she says, "I din' lie 'bout not rememberin' what happened t'other night. Honest. But 'bout longpork-eater... I actually did see the fucker chow down." She shakes her head.
Renee's teeth flash in a grimace of distaste. "We donna like it when tha' happens, jus' took us awhile ta find the fucker."
J.C. lifts the coffee as if in toast. "Kudos f'clearin' out the trash." She takes a swallow, then blinks. "Ah, hell, I'm bein' rude. Y'want somethin'? Gotta 'nuff fer another cuppa th' hot stuff."
Renee shakes her head. "Naw. Donna have a problem with gettin' enough ta eat. Lotta folks are willin' ta feed me if I can't find my own stuff. Even if they grumble about me not takin' showers and smellin' bad."
J.C. blinks, then crinkles her nose. "They do that a lot?"
Renee shrugs. "Some of'em do, some of'em don't. The ones that do keep sayin' that they're gonna throw me inta some water, but I don't think that they mean it."
"Tch," says J.C. "That's jus' teasin'. 'N if they do, s'what? Y'can find a big fuckin' pile a' shit 'n roll right back 'round in it."
Renee laughs. "Yea. Could always do that."
J.C. grins, then swallows the last of her coffee. "I gotta book," she says, wiping at her runny nose yet again. "Sorry 'gain 'bout the kitchen thing."
Renee shrugs. "Don't worry bout it. Boss-lady jus' frowned a bit, so nothin' really bad is gonna happen. Take care. An' if ya ever need food or somethin', I can always get at some."
J.C. wrinkles up her nose a bit, then snickers. "Thanks, but there's more'n one 'vantage of being Mama's favorite. Lil' larder, y'grok?" She grins once more, broad and friendly, before heading out. "Be good, kiddo."
Renee remains at the table and gives a wave as Jenny leaves.