Harbor Park Fountain

The area where the fountain was, and presumably the new fountain will be,
is now totally enclosed by high plywood walls. There is a door in one of
the walls, firmly locked with a padlock. The walls enclose much of the
flagstone area, now, only leaving a little around the edges of the old
courtyard. To one side, some ground is being leveled for further
improvements. Healthy green hedges line one side of the courtyard, just
behind some graffiti-covered benches.

The murky waters of the Columbia River flow swiftly along the east side of
the park. Bracketing the park to the west is First Street. The park extends
to the south.

Contents:

Salem

Dillan

Elan

Flowers

Obvious exits:

ManHole River STreet South

The dark figure by the river stops, still out of earshot of the two
teenagers. He faces the sluggish river, smoking, his face indistinct. An
older woman walking her poodle veers around him, giving Salem a wide berth,
dragging the frantically yapping animal on a red leash.

Elan peripherally gets a glimpse of Salem as he listens to Dillan, and
tenses just a bit. He tries to keep part of his attention that way, but
fails sometimes. He looks back to Dillan. "Yeah, know how ya feel. I didn't
pick that stuff up, when I had the chance, and I regretted it a lot. People
gettin' hurt around me, and not bein' able t' do anything."

Shakes makes his way through the tall grass of the south.

Shakes has arrived.

Stepping over, around, and when she has to, though the piles of snow, one
Sally MacKay strides up from the meadow. Her hands in her pocket and her
long coat held tight around her, she glances around as she checks out who's
here that she might know.

Dillan cracks a half-assed grin. "Well. Sorta. I just don't wanna hafta
rely on Cutter for anything that important. That an' I can't let gee get
ahead of me." He winces a bit at the poodl's yapping and hunches up in his
trench.

A street mutt seems to be following Sally at a distance, ducking behind
trash cans, trees, any other cover that may be available if she bothers
looking back. It seems he is making a game of "stalking" her.

Salem's shoulders tense, but otherwise he manages to ignore the woman with
the yapping poodle. Flicking ash from his cigarette, he brings it to his
lips again and inhales, his eyebrows lowered and his expression sour and
brooding as he gazes out over the water.

Sally MacKay spots Elan and Dillan and heads for them, as aware of Shakes
behind her as she is that classes restart at SCCU in a week. That is to
say, not at all. "Hey," she smiles as she nears them.

Elan nods and smiles to Dillan, agreeing, then gives a little wave to Sally
as she approaches.

Shakes stops to sniff at a tree for a moment before going any further into
the Fountain area.

Dillan tries to stifle a yawn, and tips a hand to his head, mock-saluting
to Sally. "Yo, homegal." Back to Elan, Dillan prompts the Gnawer. "So,
whenever you want, gee."

Elan nods to Dillan. "Ain't gotta take a look around until later, so we
could start after lunch?"

The blonde stops as she reaches them. "Damned cold to be hanging out in the
park," she notes, looking from one to the other with a smile. "You couldn't
find some place warmer?" she jokes.

Dillan shakes his head, answering Sally. "No-where quite as, uh...
'important', nah. When I want warm, I'll go crawl back home and park my ass
in front of my Playstation."

Shakes starts his approach toward Sally, creeping up behind her while she's
talking. As soon as he gets close enough, he puts his cold, wet nose up
against the most easily accessable bare skin, most likely one of her hands.

Elan's attention is caught by the word 'Playstation' almost as much as he
would be by the word 'food'. "So, you got some cool stuff for it?"

Sally MacKay jumps away from the cold touch against her palm, a cry of
surprise sounding from her before she catches herself. She spins around,
almost knocking into Elan. "Hey! Damned do-" She pauses, still frowning as
she eyes Shakes. "Oh, the kinswoman relaxes, mostly, anyway. "It's you."

Shakes bounces around in the snow. Tag, tag! You're it! He barks, obviously
pleased with himself.

Salem's attention jerks toward the small gathering, eyes narrowing in on
Sally. He stares in her direction for several moments before turning away
again, still tense. He takes another drag on the almost-finished cigarette
and scowls at the river.

Elan chuckles. "He gotcha. Now you're 'it'."

Dillan nods. "A few games, yeah. Bushido Blade, Final Fantasy Seven. Got
the new Star Wars fighter. S'not too bad." He stops, eying Shakes' yapping.
"Calm down a'eady. Sally, you been puttin' Jolt in his dogbowl?"

"I'm it, huh?" She shakes her head at the 'dog' good naturedly. "Well if
you think I'm gonna chase you through the snow, you got another thing
coming." Spinning towards Dillan, she shushes him, "Don't give it away! He
doesn't know yet."

Elan just chuckles at Sally

Shakes wanders up towards Sally once more, sniffing. Got any food? Huh,
huh, huh?

Sally MacKay looks down at the dog, her hands back in her pockets again.
"What do you smell?" she asksquietly, making the part of her jacket he's
sniffing wave so that it'll lightly tap his nose.

Shakes sneezes.

From afar, to Dillan, Salem, Sally MacKay, and Elan, Shakes is doing Sense
Wyrm. If anyone's near enough to him, and bad enough to show up over the
city's background, page him. Thanks.

Dillan rubs the side of his face. "I swear," he mumbles, standing up a bit
straighter. "All gee does is talk 'bout food, or eat. Think I ain't seen
him not doin' either in, like, forever. Gonna be like Jenny Craig time if
he keeps up."

Salem's cigarette comes to its end. Before it becomes truly extinguished,
though, he uses it to light another. The butt gets dropped to the ground
and crushed underfoot.

Sally MacKay snorts and makes a half-hearted kick at him with her foot.
"Stupid dog," she smiles, "What'd you know?"

Shakes moves back from Sally and sits in the snow. He turns his attention
towards Dillan, wondering why he's so concerned about Gnawer appetites.

Elan looks to Dillan and shrugs. "Well, he hasn't, much, D."

"I ain't!" exclaims Dillan, the picture of innocence. "But you keep stuffin
it in my face ain't easy to miss. I be like sittin' 'round mindin' my biz
and alla sudden be like your fat ass in my face with a Big Mac."

Shakes licks his chops. Big Mac.

Sally MacKay looks back to Elan and Dillan, trying to pick up the thread of
the conversation again.

Dillan points at Shakes, illustrating his point to Sally and Elan. "See!"

Elan nods. "I gotta agree that sounds pretty good. You buying?"

Sally MacKay's eyebrows raise slightly as Dillan points at Shakes, then she
lets her attention wander around the park. She turns away from the two,
checking out the few other people in the area.

Salem turns away from the river and prowls toward the nearest bench, still
quite a ways out of earshot of the others. Still smoking, he drops down
into the bench and stretches his legs out.

Dillan lets out a quiet grunt. "I told ya. Always eatin'. Fine," he says,
looking to Elan and jerking his head towards the park exit. "S'pose I can
buy, since you're helpin' me out 'n all. Least I can do. Maybe we can pick
up the score from the game, too."

A deep growling sound, familiar to Elan and Shakes and perhaps others, can
be heard out on the road outside the Park as a big black jeep with barbed
wire wrapped around the bumpers drives by. Shakes yips and starts running
in the direction of the vehicle, the driver of which taking no notice of
the dog as he heads up the street. The truck, and Shakes, disappear up the
road.

Shakes makes his way onto the street in the west.

Shakes has left.

Salem glances sharply up at the truck and dog. His scowl deepens.

Elan stands in one smooth motion, but sees the truck is easily going to
outrace him on just two feet. "Go Sha - Boy! Go!" He yells after the
departing mutt, and looks to Dillan. "Sure thing. Now would be great..."

Sally MacKay's attention linger on Salem as he moves, an openly evaluating
look as her eyes move from his face down, then back up. She starts to
smile, then blinks and turns her head back towards Shakes as he makes a
quick exit. "What? Did he see a cat, or something?"

Kathryn makes her way through the tall grass of the south.

Kathryn has arrived.

Dillan shrugs at Shakes' quick exit. "Too bad for him. Passin' up free
food. Less for me t'shell out, though." He grins broadly, and calls to
Sally. "You comin' too? Lunch at Rotten Ronnie's."

Kathryn walks alongside the river, head down, muffled in a large jacket.
Kath doesn't seem to have noticed the knot af people gathered here.

Squirrel Man makes his way through the tall grass of the south.

Squirrel Man has arrived.

Sally MacKay hmms? as she looks to Dillan. "You buying, man?"

[Squirrel Man's desc]

Squirrel Man (or Ed, for those who ask) is of an age to be considered old
by most people, pushing along through his early-70's now, though some
people might guess him to be ten years younger than his actual age. Yes,
it's true that his hair continues to thin out on top, and that what's left
is more white than brown. And it's also true that his movements aren't as
quick or as sure as they were five decades ago. His hazel eyes still have a
look of sharp focus to them, and this without the aid of bifocals.

He's dressed the same as he is for almost any day, and almost any occasion:
dark brown polyester slacks, a button-up long-sleeved shirt, and shabby
dress shoes. Winter's brought about the addition of a somewhat moth-eaten
wool coat, matching cap, and gloves, but other than that it's pretty much
what he always wears. No sir, sensible fashion like this just doesn't go
out of style.

Elan trots out, with Dillan and Sally.

Elan goes home.

Elan has left.

Salem leans back in the bench, pulling the leather duster closer around
himself and turning the collar up against the cold. If he noticed Sally's
look, he shows no sign of it.

Squirrel Man is walking along a path near the roadside, just on this side
of the chain-length fence. All bundled up against the winter chill, that
steaming styrofoam cup in his hand is doing double duty, both as a beverage
and a hand warmer.

"Yeah, yeah," conceeds Dillan. "I got hooked. So you want or not?"

Kathryn looks up as she hears voices, and glances over at the discussion.
Seeing some people she does not recognise, she keeps her distance, for now.

Sally MacKay pushes up one of her sleeves, then frown. "Damn, what the hell
time is it? I need a watch," she almost mumbles that last part.

Dillan shrugs. "I figure it's close to bein' lunchtime." He holds out both
arms, indicating his lack of a wristwatch. A glance over his shoulder
confirms Elan's got a big head start. "Someone's hungry, anyhow."

Sally MacKay shakes her head and leans back against the plywood surrounding
what's left of the fountain. "Better not, man. I gotta get to work at one
o'clock; must be coming up onto that." She smiles at him, "Give me a
raincheck?"

Squirrel Man eventually strays from the streetside, shuffling along to some
point near the fountain. If he catches the eye of anyone, with the
exception of cheerful old Salem over there, he'll give a cordial enough to
nodded greeting.

Dillan mimes a gun at Sally, aims, and fires it at her. "Bang. Gotcha. I
owe ya one. Listen, I'll catcha later. I don't wanna get there and find out
Elan's ordered enoguh for the whole project or something." He runs off to
chase Elan down.

Kathryn decides not to get involved in any conversation at the moment, and
heads along the riverside. Kath hangs her head as she goes, not looking
back.

Kathryn picks her way south, into the overgrown meadow.

Kathryn has left.

Salem mutters a quiet curse and stands up in one abrupt, swift movement,
throwing the half-smoked cigarette down and shoving ungloved hands into his
coat pockets. Tense with unfocussed ire, he heads away from the bench.

Sally MacKay's hand goes to her chest, and she spins away from her wooden
resting place. "You... you... got me," she gasps in what might easily be
the worst acting in recent memory. She stands back up with a laugh as she
calls, "Yeah, have fun. Catch you later."

Dillan has left.

Squirrel Man mumbles something to himself, or perhaps a stray air molecule
or two, before settling himself down onto a bench that's probably not all
that far from Sally, a contented sigh as he gets off his feet.

The blonde's bright laughter dies down as Dillan trots off after Elan. She
takes another look around the park, her eyes passing over Squirrel Man as
if he wasn't even there. The older woman heading back this way with the
poodle also holds little of Sally's attention, and soon enough her eyes
return to Salem.

This time, Salem notices Sally's attention, and he stops to meet her gaze
directly, unsmiling, a stray lock of black hair falling across his forehead
and partially obscuring one eye.

Squirrel Man is keeping a peripheral eye on things around him, content in
his role of people watching. A few more sips drains his coffee, at which
point he sets the styrofoam cup aside, reaches into a pocket on his pants
to withdraw a pipe and tobacco pouch.

Salem's lack of smile almost seems to bring a sparkle of amusement to
Sally's eyes. She resumes her lean against the fountain's wooden fence, her
chin raising a touch as she returns the direct eye contact, her smile
twitching further upwards.

Salem's lips twitch, tightening at the woman's amusement, and his eyes
narrow dangerously. All that unfocussed, simmering anger abruptly hardens
into a sharp point, directed at Sally. He doesn't break the gaze.

Squirrel Man slowly packs his pipe, a more arduous process with gloves on.
The look he gives Salem is a decidedly uneasy one, before he decides
there's really other places he should be paying attention to in the park.

And Sally does not miss the sharpening of his focus onto her, though
perhaps strangely, this only seems to heighten her amusement her further.
She breaks the stare, but it's only to yawn, the back of one of her hands
coming up to cover her mouth. Feigning a bored air marred by her near-grin,
she takes another slow look around the park.

Salem snarls, literally, lips peeling back from his teeth, his head coming
up sharply, face twisting into an expression of barely-controlled fury. He
stands there for a moment, trembling on the razor's edge of frenzy, and
then abruptly turns on his heel, heading for the meadow.

Squirrel Man waits until he's sure that Salem is outside of hearing range,
a smaller figure down in the meadow to the south. "He didn't seem a very
friendly fellow," he opines, aloud, as he tamps down on the tobacco.

Even though Sally wasn't looking directly at him, she seems not to have
missed Salem's display. Once he's out of hearing range, she lets out her
held back laughter. "Shit, man," she chuckles to herself.

Squirrel Man shakes his head a few times. "Well, he's gone now," he says,
rhetorically, and lights up the pipe with a simple wooden match. It doesn't
take long for the smell of tobacco smoke to waft from his direction.

Still grinning and clearly with not a single clue as to how close she came
to becoming Garou Chow, Sally stands up from her lean and heads towards the
closest exit.