[Marni] (dootdedoo)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 7)
[Marni] It’s becoming a common vision, really. The cute little gnawer (and she IS cute, there’s no denying that!) is visible only by the feet and legs that are dangling from a dumpster. Her voice echoes from inside as she says comments idly to herself…
“OH GROSS. That’s not it… whhhhhhere is it… come on you bastard…”
Feet wriggle as she scoots her torso further into the dark depths of the dumpster in the alleyway, the top held up by her backpack, and the rest of her lost to the darkness.
[Moira Murray] A back door opens up in Marni’s alley, conversation filtering out between two people as the smells of kitchen filter through. An older man, well into his 60s, muscled and tattooed – like an ex-marine carries a bag of garbage while speaking to the dark-haired kin that has followed him out.
Moira adjusts the borrowed coat more around her, watching Bill from the back of the diner as he takes the garbage out. “So you haven’t seen him in awhile? I wonder what he’s up to…”
“Sorry, Moira, haven’t seen him. I already told ya to use the bathroom if ya need it. I’ll clean up the mess, just don’t make a habit of it, okay.” he calls back as he looked over his shoulder at her, not yet noticing the pair of feet sticking up from the dumpster.
[Marni] She wriggles a little farther in, muttering ad clattering and making a bit of noise until she crows triumphantly. “GOTCHA!”
….now she has to get OUT of the dumpster. Now, Marni, she’s pretty well proportioned, maybe a little top heavy. Short and stacked, one might say, and stretched out as she is, what happens next is destiny.
She falls in with a squeal of surprised outrage. “ooooooooooDAMMIT!” Though it trails very quickly into laughter as she scrambles to her feet, and those curls pop out the top of the dumpster, dark eyes looking around to see who saw her oh so undignified dive into the dumpster.
[Moira Murray] Bill stops, stares, and coughs. The garbage bag sagging in his meaty hand held out in front of him as he just watched Marni fall face first into a pile of something…. An odor starts to permeate around the Gnawer as she wiggles and squirms inside the dumpster. Begins to reek of rotten eggs.
“What the hell you doing in the dumpster?” He all but growls at Marni, “Get out of there.” he waves his other hand at her, throwing the bag into it over her head.
Moira blinks, stares at the dumpster the moment she heard the squeals and coughs. She steps out in to the alley to see who it was that Bill was swearing at.
[Connor] Restlessness was still eating him up inside as he paced tirelessly through the city strees. He was dressed in faded blue jeans, a light green t-shirt stretched over his muscular figure and his brown jacket, the rough leather of which was cut just long enough to hide the knife, in sheath and ever-present, at his belt. Buying the new clothes had eaten up all of about an hour of yesterday, then he’d gone back to the Brotherhood and worked out a little, hoping to burn off some of the pent up energy with exercise. It hadn’t worked.
Today he was out walking, though the excuse of ‘exploring the city’ was mostly just a pretence. The truth was he just need to do something. Walking took up time and, you never knew, he might wind up in a fight or something.
Connor scans the alleyways as he passes them, half-hoping to see a gang of loitering thugs he can piss off. This area seems rough enough but his half-hearted hopes are dashed time and time again as the alleys prove empty. That is, until he comes across one with several people in it. People he recognises. In a flash, the air of moodiness leaves him and a smile flashes onto his face.
[Marni] Bill growls and Marni TRIES to look abashed and contrite, but her dark eyes are sparkling with mischief and her lips just naturally curl into a roguish grin, as se peeks at him over the edge of the dumpster. Bill throws the bag behind her, and Marni tucks the wrapped bit of foil between her teeth as she grabs the edge of the dumpster in both hands, hops and rests her feet alongside, before sliding over to hit the gound.
only then does she pull the bit of foil from between her teeth and open it to show a partially gnawed on sandwich that can’t be more than oh, a day or three old, as she sheepishly looks up at Bill. “…dinner.”
Now he can’t POSSIBLY be mad at her, right?
[Moira Murray] To Connor, it could look like a confrontation with the tall white-haired ex-marine squaring off with the cute little Gnawer that is Marni, but it doesn’t look to be such. Bill just swears and throws his hands up in the air the moment Marni flashes the sandwich at him.
Moira looks a shade paler than she was before. One hand covering her stomach and the other clasping on her mouth. Her cheeks bulging out a little as she keeps down the little gag reflex to throw up. Her eyes cut away, widening ever so slightly as she sees the tall Irish wolf coming down the alley.
It was an unexpected surprise.
Bill turns away from all of them, heading back into the kitchen as he mutters and cusses about vagrants being as bad as rats. “Close the door if ya coming back in, Moira.” He says to the kin, casting Connor a quick glance over before heading back inside the back door to the diner.
Moira nods, pulling her hand away from her mouth. Her head turns to look at Marni and then towards Connor. “You know, Marni… there’s a fresh hot meal inside if you want that instead of the sandwich….” a glance back over her shoulder to Connor and grins, “Hey, Irish, long time no see.”
[Marni] Bill throws his hands up and Marni laughs, and takes a big ole bite of that… sandwich as he stomps off into the restaurant and tells moira to close the door when she comes back in. She arches her brow as Moira offers a fresh hot meal. “Got no cash though..”
She wrinkles her nose, and studies Moira’s two sizes too big coat. “wouldn’t wanna take advantage.” Clearly Marni has a cast iron stomach. Bill isn’t too far off – this vagrant is as bad as a Rat….
Then there’s Connor, and the freshly dumpedinadumpster smellinglikeoldeggs Gnawer dimples into another winning grin. “Hey, there!”
[Connor] As Connor approaches the scene he feels a slight feeling of concern creep over him. Moira and Sticks are there but there’s a big angry bloke too and he’s looming over the little Gnawer in a threatening way. Riding on the back of the concern, though, comes excitement. Perhaps there’s a chnce for a little light fighting here. No-one could blame him for stepping in to defend cute little Marni right?
But even as Connor gets closer, the big man turns and heads back into the kitchen muttering. Connor sighs mentally. Ah well, he thinks. No-one’d believe that Sticks needed defendin anyway. She’s Garou after all. And I bet she fights dirty. His smile widens as his mind provides him with a mental image: the big man squaring up to Marni only to be kicked flat out in the crotch.
“Hello there, ladies,” he says, coming to a halt next to the pair and beaming. “How’re yeh?”
[Moira Murray] She becomes subconscious about the fact that she is wearing borrowed clothes and shifts her stance a little. She tugs at the edges of the jacket, folding her arms around herself. She shakes her head at Marni. “You wouldn’t be taking advantage if I weren’t offering.”
Moira regards Connor with a little grin, “Cold, very cold.” She sighs, her breath rolling out of her mouth in a small white plume. “I have a rather frantic week you could say… what about you?”
[Marni] Oh she fights dirty all right. Three rules of fighting – do it first, do it fast, do it dirty… But mostly she avoids fights by being impossible to stay mad at for very long. Moira says she wouldn’t be taking advantage, and Marni grins, takes another bite of the gross thing she’s munching on and tosses the rest back into the dumpster. “Well Mama ain’t raise no fools… hot meals are always better than dumpster diving.”
Then for Conner, she grins up at him and shrugs. “Peachy keen, jelly bean. Miss MOira was bout to fill my empty belly… ain’t nothin better than that!” a beat. “well, ‘cept sex, but I’m pretty sure Miss Moira wasn’t offering a cuddle with the meal.”
[Connor] “Ain’t that just a shame,” Connor says with a laugh at Marni’s comment. He winks at Moira.
“Aye I’m alright, Moira. Borin week so far fer me. Yeh’ll have t’tell me about yers. If there’s room fer one more at yer table?” He smiles and gives the dark-haired kin a look over again. He’d almost forgotten how easy on the eyes she was. But she was wearing someone else’s clothes. Perhaps she had a boyfriend then? Did that bother him? A little more than it normally would. Why’s that then? he asked himself, but he quickly forgot the mystery as he caught those beautiful blues in his gaze again.
[Moira Murray] “Alas, that is something that will never happen, Marni. Girls are not a turn on for me as far as I know.” She laughs, scuffing her shoes on the icy dirt-packed street of the alley, she starts to turn on the Fianna, heading towards him which was on her way to the back door.
“Then again, I just don’t have sex at all.” She grouses, “That actually requires two people to be of some enjoyment.”
It was true, the jacket she wore was borrowed, a man’s coat that had seen much wear. It may faintly smell of motor grease and the owner, but she doesn’t seem to notice as Connor does. Moira doesn’t act like a kept woman to the Fianna’s notion. He her gaze and Moira looks at him for a moment, her cheeks suddenly blossoming with color.
She coughs, ducking her head down to hide the blush creeping over her face and motions for the two Garou to come inside. She reaches out to curl her hands on Connor’s arm, tugging the Fianna along. “C’mon, lets go inside. We can sneak through the back door and head around to a table. We can talk over there.”
She doesn’t wait for a no, escorting the garou along through the back door into Bill’s Diner and navigates them to a table in the front. It was a clean little establishment, Bill not appearing until they’ve managed to sneak around to the front and Moira had shut the back door. Bill seems to be the only one running the place, which was quiet and empty.
[Marni] Moira says it requires two people and Marni laughs and shakes her head. “If that were true I’d be ever so much more uptight.” Shameless, Marni. “Though I’ll grant that the cuddling after is better with a second person in ya box.” It’s hard to imagine Marni as ever uptight. Though now, that image is likely now tarnished with mental pictures that.. Well. Hey look! Food!
She follows Moira’s lead, only pausing to scrape something disgusting off the bottom of her shoes from the dumpster on the stoop outside, so as not to track it through Bill’s establishment. She plops into a chair and slips from her backpack, setting it on the floor by her foot, automatically hooking the strap around her ankle as she peels out of her coat and rubs her hands together to warm them.
[Connor] Connor laughs out loud at Marni’s plain speaking.
“Tell it like it is, Sticks,” he chuckles. “Don’t hold back now. And no sex, Moira? That’s just a crime.” Moira links arms with him and drags him inside, though Connor offers naught in the way of resistance. She can lead me damn near anywhere, he thinks with a grin. He doesn’t notice it but he’s suddenly happier now the possibility of Moira having a boyfriend has become seemingly nil.
Connor takes a seat opposite Marni and watches her rubbing her hands for warmth.
“Aye, tis cold enough out there ay? I swear I dunno how you Gnawers can stand to sleep out in weather like this.”
[Moira Murray] Moira doesn’t reply to Marni’s comment until they have sat down to. She shrugs out of the coat, letting it drape over the back of the chair and sets her elbows on the table, sitting across from Marni. She holds up her hands to Marni, wiggling thin delicate fingers at the Gnawer. “I have small hands, don’t nearly do such a good job. Much prefer bigger, rougher hands that aren’t my own… less effort I have to worry about if I can just lay there and squirm without working for it.”
Bill has noticed the trio, making his way over to the table. He lifts a hand to his mouth, coughing into it. “What can I get you all…” he stops, his eyes falling on Marni as he furrows his eyebrows at her and then just looks at Moira. She smiles innocently, “Gives us a few, Bill, but bring some coffee!!” Bill mutters under his breath and nods, walking off again.
Moira tilts an eyebrow at the Fianna, “How is it a crime? You get used it after awhile. I’ll likely turn back into the Virgin Mary at this rate… only without the baby Jesus.”
[Marni] She grins at Connor. “We have our lil tricks. Maybe someday I’ll show ya. If ya brave ’nuff.”
Then Moira shows off her hands, and marni look at her own – smallish too, but effective enough. “True nuff, though holy hell were are all the Gnawers in this damn town? I’ve never had so much problem findin someone for a cuddle! Though one of yours” Fenrir, she means “offered to not tell if I accidentally groped a time or two during a wrestling match. Closest I’ve got in WEEKS.”
Then Bill is covering a cough and glare and Marni just grins, innocently.
[Connor] Well ain’t I just th’luckiest fella breathin, Connor thinks to himself. Here’s a conversation I didn’t think I’d be in t’day.
“I say it’s a crime fer a gorgeous one like yeh t’be wi’out th’touch o another,” he replies, green eyes sparkling into her blue ones, a slight smile touching his lips. “It’s a wonder someone hasn’t laid a claim t’yeh.”
“Anyway, what’s the food like here? They do steak?”
[Moira Murray] Marni mentions groping during a wrestling match and Moira closes her eyes. She opens them again and starts to laugh. “Which one offered?”
Moira coughs, inhaling slightly at the wrong time that nearly makes her choke when Connor comments on why she hasn’t been claimed yet. She looks across the table at Marni and then back to the Fianna with a shake of her head smiling at him. “Clearly you haven’t met the Get of Fenris of Chicago yet, Connor.”
“I’m a freak of nature. I’m like wolfsbane to a werewolf.” Her laughter is teasing as it echoes around her words. She nods her head to the menu, plucking up one herself. “The steak is good, not like restaurant quality, but Bill isn’t bad. His coffee can be a bit strong.”
“Tell me why you still come here and drink it then?” Came Bill’s answer over Moira’s statement. The man sat down three cups, filling up Moira’s and Marni’s, and looks to Connor to see if he wanted coffee. If not, he waits there long enough to see what they want to order.
[Marni] “Max.” She grins, easily, and shakes her head. “Said he wasn’t into cuddling tho. So I’ma have to jump him for a wrestling match, son. And honey, if you’re a freak? what the hell does that make ME?”
Her eyes widen dramatically, though she turns that 100-Watt smile on Bill as he fills her coffee cup.
“Thank you. And I’ll take the biggest greasiest bacon covered burger you got with a messa fries on the side.”
[Connor] Connor shakes his head to decline coffee.
“No thanks, fella,” he says. “I’ll take a steak n chips n a beer though. Whatever bottled American stuff yeh’ve got. It’s still a litte early fer a real drink.” Connor turns back to Moira, deliberately and obviously looking her up and down.
“Nope,” he says. “I’m not seein this freakishness yer on about either. An’ don’t be silly, Sticks. Yer cute as a box o kittens. Tiny, mischievous, dumpster-raiding kittens.”
[Moira Murray] Bill grunts, taking their orders as Moira puts hers in for a sandwich he leaves them to their conversation, taking the coffee pot with them.
Moira narrows her eyes on the Fianna a little, grinning at him wryly. “Are you flirting with me, Connor?”
[Marni] Tiny mischievous dumpster-raiding kittens. Marni laughs and tips her head, curls bouncing. “Why Connor, that might be the nicest thing anyone’s said about me in forever. I think I may have to keep you around.
And Moira asks if Connor’s flirting with her and Marni snorts. “Does a wolf piss on trees?”
[Connor] “Flirtin? Me?!” asks Connor in mock horror. “I wouldn’t know how!” He drops another wink at Moira and laughs.
[Moira Murray] She eyes the Fianna for a long while, casting her gaze over to Marni and winks at him. Moira feigns indifference, looking away from them and down into her coffee as she sits straighter and begins to saturate it with sugar and cream.
“So, I have noticed, Connor the Fireblood,” she says with a cheeky grin, “That you can’t flirt.” Stirring the cup, Moira looks up at him and then sticks the spoon in her mouth, licking it clean. “I am won so easily, Fiann.” She warns, “I am a bit old fashioned – and do not fall into bed so easily with just any silver-tongued rogue.”
[Moira Murray] (err.. “Not won so easily!!)
[Connor] ((riiiight))
[Marni] She just snorts, again, and rolls her eyes. She doesn’t say anything though, as the cute as a box of kittens gal is fast becoming a third wheel in this conversation. She doesn’t mind though, because its a small price to pay for a burger almost as big as her head. She lifts up her coffee cup and cradles it between her fingers, letting the warmth seep through as she sips the strong black liquid within.
And that little easy knowing grin never falters.
[Connor] “Well I’d be disappointed if it were easy,” said Connor, grinning. “Th’thrill is in th’chase.” Connor takes a swig of his bottled beer then looks at the label with a mixture of disdain and pity.
“American beers,” he sighs. “They’re just not worth it. Now, Britain, that’s the place fer a good beer. That or Germany. Had many a fine brew out in good ole Deutschland.”
[Moira Murray] “I don’t know if that is a good thing or a bad thing…” Moira snorts, shaking her head.
Bill brings their food to them in a timely manner, setting down the plates and silverware before exiting. Moira brings her cup up to her mouth, sipping from it, using it as a distraction as she glances away to the front door for a moment, and then the empty seats at the counter.
[Marni] The food arrives, and Marni wastes no time digging in. Ketchup added to the corner of her plate for the fries, as well as on the burger. Like most Gnawers, she eats like she hasn’t in a week, like she doesn’t know where the next meal is coming from. Oddly enough, Chicago has been good to her – she’s never hungry for long.
She wipes some ketchup from her chin and grins. “Mmmms’good. The chase I mean.” There’s that dimpled grin again.
She tips her head though, as Moira looks around. “Lookin for someone?”
[Connor] Connor’s face lights up as he sets eyes on the generous slab of meat on his plate.
“Excellent,” he grins. “Now steaks, the Americans can do!” After squirting some ketchup on his chips, Connor digs in, stopping only to laugh at how rapidly Marni is demolishing her greasy-looking burger.
“Aye,” Connor agrees. “I’ve not met a girl yet who’s kept my interest after the chase is up. But there’s time yet.” Another wink aimed at Moira before he turns his attention back to his food.
[Moira Murray] “No.” She replies to Marni, “Just noticing how empty the place was.” She shrugs her shoulders, rubbing her hands together as she starts to dig into the club sub sandwich she had ordered while they enjoyed there.
“See, that’s the problem with most males I’ve run into. They like to chase and chase and chase, but they never stick around. So, I never see a point in getting physically involved.” She bites into her food, chewing on it and swallows before speaking again, “Then again, maybe I’m just too high maintenance for someone looking for an easy lay.”
[Marni] [iz you lyin Miss Moira?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6) Re-rolls: 2
[Connor] “Nothin wrong with bein high maintenance,” says Connor, after swallowing a sizeable mouthful of steak. “But nothin wrong with havin a bit o fun either in my humble opinion. Course, I’d like to settle down one day. Do the whole kids n family thing. It’s in me blood after all. Besides, I love kids. Like I said, though, gotta find th’right woman first. One who’ll put up wi me!” Another spray of ketchup struck his chips with deadly accuracy.
[Marni] She studies Moira for a moment, and then. “Umhm…” She knows better. That much is clear in her eyes for that littl space of time but… she simply lets it go, and let’s Moira continue to believe that they think she’s just noticing the emptiness.
“I’m HUGELY High maintenance myself. I mean, I expect only the BEST of refrigerator boxes in the snuggest of alleys, and the best dumpster diving venues. It’s incredibly hard to live up to such high standards.” All said with that grin, as she shoves a bunch of fries in her mouth.
[Moira Murray] She starts to laugh, listening to them speak. Moira meets Marni’s gaze for a second and then returns her eyes to her food and says nothing else. She listens to the way Connor speaks about family and smirks a little.
“Isn’t that what most Fianna want? They enjoy the sense of family. I wouldn’t mind a family eventually, but it makes it difficult when you know that your mate is likely to die any day now in Chicago.”
[Connor] “Aye but that’s the life we lead,” says Connor. “We’re at war. Any of us could die at any time. S’why it’s important to have some fun while you can, whatever that means fer yeh. And aye, we’re a folk that love family.” Something flickered behind Connor’s eyes then when he spoke about family, a darkness, a dead, cold, sombreness so far removed from his normal light-hearted expressions. But it was gone again in a heartbeat as he pushed the memories away again.
[Marni] She shrugs “I think most of us want that kinda stuff. Me, I ain’t gonna be havin no kids anytime soon.. not here. Takes me outa commission for too long. But I aim to practice LOTS so that when I go bout makin babies, they’ll be perfect. Cuz practice makes perfect, ya know…”
[Adrian] ((Just at a sandwich shop, yeah?))
to Connor, Marni, Moira Murray
[Marni] (Yup – Bill’s Diner)
to Adrian, Connor, Moira Murray
[Connor] ((‘Bill’s Diner’ I think))
to Adrian, Marni, Moira Murray
[Adrian] Moira’s phone buzzes in her pocket, on the table, in her purse, where ever she has it. Or sounds out with the text tone, or . . . somehow notifies her she has a message.
[Connor] “Here’s t’that,” says Connor to Marni with a grin, raising his beer then taking a swig.
[Moira Murray] “I know its the life you all lead, but it doesn’t mean I am happy with it.” She says a bit sourly, her bottom lip tucking inward as she drops the sandwich back on her plate. She wipes her hands on a napkin and pulls out her iphone.
She checks the text on it and begins to type back: bills diner, come grab food, cute fianna, so not gay.
[Connor] Connor laughs off Moira’s slightly sour response.
“Alright,” he says, holding up his hands in mock surrender and grinning. “I promise I won’t force kids on yeh just yet.”
[Marni] She grins at Connor and then laughs outright as he promises not to force kids on Moira yet. She takes a last bite of that burger – having gone through it faster than most would think possible. She swipes her fries through the ketchup and juices on the plate, and works her way through the rest of them. Slower now – not quite so starving, but still quickly. Wonder where the hell she puts it all…
[Moira Murray] “Not going to force kids on me just yet, eh?” That does make her laugh, she leans over and nudges the Fianna with her shoulder and goes back to her sandwich. “Ye’ll have to win me first, wolf.”
[Adrian] Keep that to yourself, you. Not everyone needs to know.
And so there are directions asked from a not-so-friendly bunch of young men inhabiting a street corner (during which Adrian hears ‘fuck’ and ‘nigga’ more times than he has in a three minute span of time . . . ever), and the kin’s steps turn in that direction. It’s not long, the walk, and only a few minutes later, he’s walking in to the sound of a bell ringing over his head. He smells (sings) of Fenris, though not nearly so much so as Moira does. He takes stock of his surroundings and makes his way towards the girl he knows and her companions just as they’re mentioning the forcing of children and so forth. The smile that comes to his lips are wry, and the quiet, thoughtful young man pulls a hand from the pocket of his black leather jacket to wave.
“Hello. I’m Adrian.” He has an accent, vaguely English but not quite. One of the colonies or commonwealths, perhaps.
[Connor] “Game on,” is Connor’s chuckling reply to Moira as he cleans up the last of his chips and orders another beer. He smiles at Adrian as the young man introduces himself.
“Nice t’meet yeh, Adrian,” he grins, offering his hand. “Connor’s th’name. Can I get yeh a drink? Yeh want one too, Sticks? Moira?”
[Marni] “OH! A hot chocolate would be nice – and if you ever want that cuddle, you throw in a hot fudge sundae and you’re totally in like flynn.”
She grins at Connor. Shameless, she is. Then she waves her last fry at Adrian. “Marni. How’s it hangin?”
[Moira Murray] Moira holds up her hands, shaking her head. “Oh no… no alcohol for me. I went through three days after you saw me at the pub – on a drinking binge. I can’t remember it… plus after the week I’ve had… the only thing I – ”
Marni mentions cuddling and she laughs again, “Cuddling would be nice to. I haven’t done that in ages.” Connor tells her the game is on and she doesn’t say anything in rejection to the Fianna, just shoots him a challenging smile. She nods to Adrian.
[Adrian] “If you want cuddling, all you have to do is ask,” he tells Moira with a grin, after shaking Connor’s hand. “Nice to meet you both.”
His jacket comes off – reveals a gray henley, not tight but fitted over a not-quite-skinny frame – and takes a seat where ever there is one. “Hot chocolate sounds lovely, actually. And I’ll get the next round.” He’s not well off, but he does well enough for himself between grants, scholarships and so on. “How is everyone tonight?”
[Connor] “Yeh went on a three-day bender wi’out me?” says Connor, mocking injury. “I’m hurt!” Turning his attention to the ever-disgruntled Bill, he orders the drinks.
“I’ll take a hot chocolate for yer favourite cusomer over there” he says, jerking a thumb at Marni. “An the same fer the charmin young gentleman who’s just joined us. An I’ll have another terrible American beer please.” He grins at Bill in a way that probably annoys the big man but Connor couldn’t care less.
“Ah I miss a good cuddle misself,” he says. “There was a girl back home, when I was younger. Shona was her name. We used to climb onto th’roof with a couple o blankets and watch the stars. Course, that all came t’an end when I slept wi her older sister. Jealousy is a terrible thing, I tell yeh.”
[Marni] Marni is cute – there’s no getting around it, and she uses it 100% to her advantage. Even the disgruntled Bill can’t REALLY think she’s bad news when she grins over at him and waves. Of course, she hasn’t decided to steal the silverware yet either, so that’s likely why. Either way, she shoves the last of her fries into her mouth, and studies Adrian a moment.
Then just grins. “M’good. Miss Moira’s fillin my belly, and that’s always the way to my heart. She keeps it up and I’ll totally fall in love.”
[Moira Murray] Moira chuckles, motioning for Adrian to sit down at the table, which would put him next to Marni as Moira has the seat beside Connor. She finishes off her sandwich, watching the people around her. Her eyes traveling up to the door every now and then, before she finally settles back in her chair, pushing the empty plate away from her.
Coffee cup in hand, she studies the Fianna. “So, what kind of performance do you, Connor, seeing as you are a tale singer and all.”
[John Thornton] The night was cold, with a chill breath of wind that only just existed, just enough to leave an icy chill along your spine, just enough to make exposed skin seem that much colder. Still, it was warmer than it had been… Just not so warm as it had been where John was.
Business trips to the south this time of year tended to be a pleasant break… For John, it was just a respite to think about some things. But then… Nothing had really been normal for John in a long, long time. Forever and a day, or so it felt.
Still, as the black Crown Victoria pulls off to the side of the road and the engine is turned off, John can’t help but wonder after a lot of what he’d heard of late. A strange phone message from Izzy about what he might have heard… A call from her Co waiting at work, asking him to talk with her to see if he knew anything about a bar brawl or abusive boyfriend.
Strange business, that…
Regardless, John found himself tonight in front of Bill’s Diner, for many reasons. He’d just flown in, and that being the case… A cup of coffee sounded like just the thing.
The door to Bill’s Diner opens to the chill night air, and a man clad in a black trench coat enters quietly. His hands were gloved in black leather, and a white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar and an askew navy necktie peeked from the trench coat’s collar. Hazel eyes, socketed in dark flesh that almost seemed as much bruising as it did the ravages of constant insomnia, watched everything with a voracious appetite… They seemed never to settle on any one place or person.
[Adrian] It’s filed away, this bit of information – partial information, anyway, that leads to assumptions that could well be wrong. Adrian has nothing to tell him that either Marni or Connor is Garou, other than the feeling of Rage, which only really allows him to guess. The feeling is familiar, of course, but more things have Rage than just Garou. It’s a frightening fact, that. Performance is mentioned and Adrian, ever quiet, perks up; he does like seeing a good show now and then, of any variety.
[Connor] “Well,” says Connor with a grin and a wink. “I’ll make some assumptions about the kind o ‘performance’ yer askin about there and say that I’m a story-teller mostly. I do a bit o singing but my voice ain’t the best and I can’t play an instrument fer shyte. I like to write too but it’s not nearly as useful at Moots n th’like.” Connor thought back to the Moots in his home Sept in Galway, where he’d performed since he was a child, telling the stories of his people. His favourites had been the ones about Cu Chulainn, especially his boyhood deeds which Connor and his friends had play-acted dozens of times as children.
[Marni] She doesn’t have much to add at the moment, though when the doorbell dings, she glances up to see who walks in. She reaches for her hot chocolate, and wraps her fingers around it, lifting it to her lips and just listens.
Yes, Raggie’s can listen as well as talk. Shocking!
[Moira Murray] The door opens finally and all the glancing up that Moira has done periodically while they have eaten and conversed seems to pay off. She sees the person that she might have anticipated coming through that door. Blue eyes following the movements of the Detective as he makes his way through the diner. There is a familiarity in the way she gazes, like she knows the man in the black coat – knows him well enough to call him more than a passing acquaintance.
She doesn’t try to hide it from Marni, eyebrows drawn as she sighs in relief behind her mug of coffee, allowing her attention to be drawn away across the table to look Adrian over and then back to Connor as he speaks of home again. She grins every time he mentions Galway. “That’s a pity, and here I hoped you were one of those singing Rovers. A good voice and storyteller is just as enrapturing as a singer.”
She looks across the table to the male kin, tilting her mug at him. “I see you survived the train wreck as much as I did. Get healed up have you? I haven’t seen Jimmy in a few days so I don’t know if the gunbunny has shot himself yet or run someone over.”
[Marni] Moira’s glance, her breath her relief are obvious as Marni watches her, then shifts her gaze to the Detective that’s just entered.
That little grin slides into the knowing category again, even as Moira tries to distract the others by continuing the conversation currently going. Marni knows, which is enough for the little Gnawer. Information is often valuable – and always fun to have in one’s pocket.
[Adrian] No, Raggies are absolutely not capable of just listening and not talking! This? Surely it’s blasphemy you speak. All Ragabash are boisterous and manic, certainly!
Right?
Marni gets a little half smile in her quiet, which Adrian shares. The door opens, and Adrian glances to see who it is as Moira does, though he doesn’t recognize the person entering (doesn’t know many people in the city to recognize, for that matter), and so turns his attention back to the table as John makes his way in, and Moira’s talking to him about the train wreck.
“I’ve still a few bumps and bruises, but the worst is gone. Thank you.” For seeing to it that he wasn’t as bad off as he could have been. For asking. Either, both, take your pick. “How about you? You look much better than when I saw you last.”
[Connor] Connor notes Moira’s interest in the man who just walked in. What’s goin on there then? he thinks. A friend maybe? He ignores it for now.
“Well maybe I’ll spin yeh a tale sometime and you can see how enrapturing you find it,” he grins. When she mentions the tain wreck he almost chokes on his beer.
“Yeh were in a train wreck?! Jaysis Christ! That’s what yeh meant by ‘a frantic week’? What’s a quiet week? Gettin mugged? Are yeh alright? What happened?”
[Kora] Oh hey – look. There’s a homing signal in Bill’s Diner tonight. The front door swings open and frozen air floods the diner once more. The newest entrant is sufficiently familiar withe courtesies one needs must exhibit in cold climates that she pulls the front door sharply closed after her, ensuring minimal heat loss on the cold winter’s night.
She is inadequately dressed for the cold – wearing a red Ohio State hoodie over several layers of clothes hidden beneath, and worn jeans fitted to a narrow figure made feminine only by the curve of her hips. The hood is up tonight, hiding the gleam of her blonde hair. Inside, though, she shakes off the hood as she stamps her booted feet on the mat just inside the front door. After a glance around the room, the blonde woman walks toward the table where Moira sits. She holds herself stiffly through the torso, her shoulders tense and her full mouth drawn at the corners; that expression disappears, though, if she catches the Fenrir kinswoman’s eye into a small twist of greeting.
[John Thornton] Wordlessly, John continues into the diner, his face an unreadable deadpan for all intents and purposes. As Moira stares at him, the hazel gaze rests on her for a short time, his head dipping in a mere nod as he proceeds to where the long, stainless steel-topped counter sets squatly, separating the area in which Bill cooks from the area in which patrons could set. The open range stove rested a short distance away from it, a set of barstools lining the customer area…
John pulls out one of the barstools and slips off the trench coat… Folding it lengthwise. Then, he sets it idly across the back of one of the stools beside the one he’d chosen. As the coat is shed, a brightly polished five pointed star is revealed on his belt, near his hip. The black leather shoulder holster, complete with a wicked looking .45 caliber pistol near his left ribs, bunches the dress shirt in some few places… The collar was open, the sleeves rolled to the elbow.
Bill peeks his head out of the back room where most of the dishwashing machinery was kept, and then, with a smile, wipes his hands off on a clean white towel before walking over to John.
“Hello there, stranger. Long time no see.”
“Business trip… Just flew in.”
Bill nods. “What can I getcha, John?”
“Just a cup of coffee…”
Nodding, Bill retrieves a coffee cup and saucer from the back room, still hot from the dishwasher. Then, placing them before John, he turns to take a pot of black coffee off the warming plate and fills John’s cup.
“Thanks, Bill.”
“Just leave some change when you’re ready; I’ll get it later.”
That said, Bill turns and goes back into the room with the dishwashing equipment, as though to finish up whatever he’d been working on.
Oblivious to the heat, or perhaps in spite of it, John takes a swig of the coffee… Ignoring the steady burn as it traversed toward his stomach.
[Adrian] For all Adrian’s quiet, it’s he who speaks first when the newcomer stands by their table. In fact, quite the gentleman, he rises and says, “Here, you can sit if you’d like. I’m sure Bill won’t mind if we rearrange chairs a bit.” Bill will, in fact, mind – people who work in restaurants and diners hate that shit. But, Bill will not complain as long as he gets paid, and his staff tipped. The chair Adrian offers would put Kora next to Marni, and with a chair pulled from another table for himself, he settles between Get True and Get kin, and could be one of them.
He is not – one of these things is not like the others. One of these things does not belong.
“We were in a train wreck, yes,” is the eventual answer for Connor. “And we’re all alright, I think. More or less.”
[Moira Murray] For once, Moira was grateful the diner had been empty when she had drug the two garou into the place from the back alley. They were enjoying coffee and conversation after a meal, but with the additions of Adrian and John, and now Kora….
Moira little table has become a magnet for her kinsman. She is distracted by the presence of the Skald that is Kora, her hand lifting up to wave and acknowledge her. “Hello, Kora.” It is a pleasant greeting.
Her shoulder hunch up a little as Connor blasts out about the train wreck she turns to pat the Fianna on the back while he chokes on his beer. She takes a deep breath and lets Adrian explain.
Moira visibly shudders at the thought of being captured in a twisting spiral of metal and one of those things looming above her. “I’ve also had a bad week with some of the things I have seen and putting to rest the ghosts.”
[Moira Murray] “… of gnawer kin.”
[Marni] She scoots her chair over when Adrian adds one for Kora, her grin easy, knowing, and a little mischievous as she waves. “Hi. I’m Marni.” She blows on her hot chocolate, and takes a long swallow before…
..Wait, what? She blinks and her attention is right back on Moira. “You did what huh to Gnawer kin ghosts and why am I just NOW hearing about it?”
[Connor] “Hey, how’re yeh?” Connor says to the newcomer, not really paying her any attention. Under normal circumstances he would have flashed her one of his award-winning smiles and maybe a trademark wink, pretty thing as she is, but now he’s focused on Moira and it doesn’t even occur to him to flirt with anyone else.
“Jaysis,” he breathes, calming now after the initial surprise of hearing about the train wreck. “Sounds like you need a holiday. And I was prayin fer somethin interestin to happen t’me! A train wreck sounds a little too interestin fer my liking!”
[Kora] “Moira – ” the stranger returns Moira’s greeting in a low, clear voice. Adrian earns the ghost of a smile in acknowledgment and thanks as he rearranges the chairs scattered around the table to accommodate her. The creature sits in the proferred chair, still holding her torso rigidly, with care for her concealed injuries. There is an intensity to her, for all her reserve.
“Kora – ” she responds, when Marni introduces herself. There are hierarchies and protocols, other names and information to be exchanged, but in the presence of the kinfolk, on a cold night in a run-down diner on a side-street in a mediocre – at best – neighborhood, Kora contents herself with her human name. “This is one of the others – ” it is a statement made to Moira, not a question, with a gesture toward Adrian as he returns with another chair for himself. Her nostrils flare as she studies him; her dark eyes are intense, watchful.
[John Thornton] John removes an overly full wallet, a leather bound tome with strained seams from the multitude of small papers, cards, and other assorted things contained therein. It was like a filing cabinet, for all the information contained within, a jumble of paper shreds with single pieces of information on them… So jumbled, in fact, that anyone reading one of them would know nothing without additional information in their head to identify its significance. Still… That said, John opens the wallet to where the actual money is stored, and places a five on the counter. Way more than the cost of the coffee… But then, he’d been there enough to know a dollar here or there wouldn’t matter much in the scheme of things.
There were times when Bill went above the call of duty for a diner cook; in those times, John was grateful for their affiliation, even if he didn’t realize it until after the fact.
Replacing the wallet in his back pocket, John then takes another swig of overly hot coffee… His hazel gaze turning distant.
[Moira Murray] “Oh… there’s been more than just the train wreck. Last night in fact, in the Resurrection Cemetery.” She looks between Marni and the others, now that she’s had their attention. She is side-tracked immediately with Kora’s statement, Moira turns her attention on the Fenrir and nods her head. “This is Adrian – the one I mentioned.”
Her cup now empty, she sets it on the table, eyes flicking away toward the counter once again at the detective. With so many people at her table, Moira doesn’t excuse herself to go speak with him. She shakes her head, looking back at the gathered and remembers her story. “There’s an urban legend in Chicago about Resurrection Mary, she’s a hitchhiking ghost that haunts traveler’s cars and asks them to take her to a cemetery… turns out there are three Marys, Gnawer kin to a pack from the 30s called the Chicago Times.”
She brings a hand up to scratch at the outershell of her ear, tucking a few stray wisps of black hair behind it. “There was some evil relic that they found and buried with the kin, charging their ghosts to guard it. Last night, Kemp and I, along with a few others went and took care of the relic… well, they destroyed. Wasn’t much I could do, I just did the legwork to get them there.” She shrugs, “It was a stick with a skull on it, vomiting green slime on everyone that burned… they killed the others that were there trying to get the stick.. got caught in a some kind of burning blast wave when one of them belched fire or some shit like that…”
[Connor] Connor listens to the ghost story incredulously.
“See, why can’t I be involved in stuff like that?” he says. “A bit o action. Ghosts. Slime. Fire-belching. Sounds exactly like the kinda thing I’d like t’do of an evenin. All I did last night was some bloody push-ups. I need a bit o danger in me life.”
[Marni] She just stares. Outright stares. “….damn.”
Then she wrenches herself back, after agreeing with Connor with a vigorous nod of her head. “So the ghosts then, gone on now? All taken care of?”
[John Thornton] “Resurrection Cemetery.”
John’s gaze snaps back to the present, losing the distant look with a scrub of weary fingers through a mop of brown hair. Then, with another swig from the coffee cup, John stands and starts toward the group, coffee cup and saucer in hand. Setting them on a table nearby, he pulls a pack of Marlboro cigarettes from his front pocket, and begins shaking loose one of them from the open end.
He says nothing. He just leans against the table edge nearby and watches with a curiously raised brow… Listening to Moira’s explanation.
[Adrian] “…..” Adrian’s been in some tight spots, both mundanely and because of his connection to the Nation, but this? A lost relic is mentioned, and his eyes instantly go wide like a kid in a candy store, and he’s all but hanging onto Moira’s words as she describes where it was found, and what happened. “You’ll tell me more about this, won’t you?” Not necessarily right now, just . . . later. Eventually. This is quite interesting to him, it seems.
It’s not quite an afterthought when he smiles at Kora, offers a hand. He is granite and steel, strong, a survivor, but he’s also friendly in current company. “I am Adrian, yes, though I’m wary about what may have been said.”
[Moira Murray] “Yes,” to Marni, “They are at peace now.” And then, Adrian, “I will.”
Moira laughs at Connor, leaning over to nudge the Fianna with a playful shove using her shoulder. “Hang around me long enough and you’ll find danger and excitement just from having to save my ass… Get’s rather tiresome for a few of my kinsman…”
Her voice begins to fade as she turns in her chair, sitting with her back to the window so she can pull everyone into her line of sight. It made it easier, especially when she looks back over at the detective that was coming over to pause by a nearby table. She lifts a hand to wave fingers at her gun-toting mentor and smiles up to him. “Hello, Detective.”
[Marni] John joins them, and Marni smiles – and then her eyes light up when he shakes out a battered cigarette from a battered back. “I? Will love you forever if you let me bum one of those…”
Marni, apparently, has a lot of love to spread around – her cuddle list is long indeed.
[Kora] The waitress has not returned to the table since Kora arrived. She might have swallowed her fear when there were two – but something about the addition of a third creature made of rage on a clear night when the full moon rose low over the western horizon shortly after dark – something about that added a certain sort of specific gravity to the matter. The woman hangs back now, hovering – watchful. Kora has nothing to drink, and orders nothing. Adrian is briefly relieved of the weight of the dark-eyed creature’s attention as Moira continues her story of Resurrection Mary and the cemetary. When Moira sits back, though, the image of the skull vomiting burning green acid lingering in the air, the Fenrir woman sits back again, her face in profile to Adrian, cutting a glance back in his direction.
The handshake makes her grin. It’s a full expression, matched by a glint of humour in her eyes. The handshake – such a human thing. There he sits, his hand held out, Kora with both of her own still tucked into the pouch of her hoodie as they have been since she entered the diner. Belatedly, she shakes her right hand free of the pouch, leans forward stiffly, and accepts Adrian’s offered hand.
“Kora.” she replies, dark eyes lashing as she considers him. Then – a beat later, ” – have you been to see the Jarl?”
[Connor] “I’ll take that offer anytime,” says Connor to Moira with a wink. He turns his attention to the others that have recently joined them. The blonde he practically ignored earlier has introduced herself as ‘Kora’ and Connor instantly puts her down as having a giant stick up her ass and pays her no more attention. The other is the man Moira noticed when he first came in. She calls him detective now and the description obviously fits. Aside from the holstered gun he wears the man looks like every haggard, sleep deprived detective Connor’s ever seen in a cop film. He’d bet that the guy plays by his own rules, gets chewed out by the Captain for it but never fired and doesn’t like working with a partner because he got close to one once and then they were killed. Oh and his wife left him because he was married to the job. Sometimes, just sometimes, life itself is a cliche.
[Adrian] “Are . . . we . . . oh, is there actually a place in this wretched city where we can smoke inside? Tell me this isn’t a cruel trick.” He pouts just a little, and in that, his accent is clear – somewhat English, somewhat Germanic, and somewhat all together different at the same time; clipped Ts, Vs that want to be Fs, Ws that want to be Vs and so on. A pack of Dunhills is brought from a pocket in his jacket though he doesn’t light one, just in case.
Have you been to see the Jarl?
He knew it would be asked eventually. Has to have known. He is not ignorant of his Breeding, even if he lacks the ability to sense it – in himself, in others. He hesitates, shoots a glance Moira’s way, and swallows as his fingers tap at the sides of the cocoa he’d reclaimed from in front of Kora when he sat back down.
“My foster father . . .” He clears his throat; this information had been easier to share with someone he knew, even only a little. Or maybe it had been the very, very different circumstances. “No, I haven’t. Though the head of the Tribe that adopted me has been contacted.”
Get breeding.
Not Get.
It’s a strange thing.
[Moira Murray] [salts the snail]
[John Thornton] John retrieves the cigarette from the pack, and a black bic lighter… Wordlessly, he puts the cigarette in his mouth, and lights the tip to a brilliant fiery red. Then, exhaling a small stream of smoke, he takes the cigarette in hand and hands it to Marni…
“Hello Moira.”
Just as quickly, he’s retrieving another cigarette from the pack, and lighting it with the same practiced apathy. It’s only after both cigarettes are lit, one given away, the other held in hand, that John begins to put away the pack of Marlboro’s. The smoke drifts upward with serpentine fluidity; it seemed almost alive as it danced on barely felt air currents… Toying along the detective’s features, coiling and dancing as it brushed the detective’s hair…
With his free hand, John takes up the coffee cup and swallows another swig. Hazel eyes that seem somewhat blue in the diner’s lighting turn to Adrian.
“Bill won’t mind. Any customer that might is welcome to call a cop…
Just don’t make a habit of it.”
[Marni] She takes the lit cigarette with a sigh of delight and pushes back from the table so as not to disturb any delicate sensibilities. She hooks a boot on the edge of her seat, wraps her arm lazily around her knee, and takes that first heavenly drag.
On exhale, she grins happily up at John. “Thanks, man.”
[Kora] “The tribe that adopted you?” Discussing such matters, in such a public place, the Fenrir woman is naturally cautious. Her already low voice is quiet enough now that the rest of the Garou and kin at the table would have to work to catch her words, pitched as they are to carry to Adrian, and little further. It is difficult to read the creature’s expression – but because she is skilled at concealing her emotions, but because – for the moment – her fine features are simply still, thoughtful, considered. John lights a cigarette for Marni, and another for himself. The Skald’s blue eyes flash to him as he invites Adrian to smoke too, but she says nothing.
The right corner of her mouth quirks – not a smile, this – as she turns back to Adrian. ” – what does that mean?”
[Adrian] Adrian does not, in fact, light a cigarette just yet, however much he might want to. The pack, along with a cheap plastic lighter, sit on the table in front of his mug, where his fingers tap absently. It could just be withdrawal – that, and the swallow, have been the only indication of his sudden nerves. The throat clearing and hesitation in speech could well have been down to the environment – his voice, too, is pitched low, to carry only to Kora, though he is not as good at directing or modulating as she.
“It means,” he says, his eyes now respectably on Kora’s cheekbones – not quite deferential, but near it, “that I’m not what you think I am. I belong to the Gaians.”
[Adrian] (For shits and giggles: Manip + Sub.)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Moira Murray] Moira has fallen quiet now, she watches them. Her attention drifting a bit as they start to smoke and she crinkles up her nose, not particularly fond of the habit. Connor excuses himself to use the restroom, mumbling something about the American beer getting to him (has no idea why he left – makes something!)
She looks over at John, “Haven’t see you in awhile. Been out of town?”
[Kora] [Perception (observant) + empathy]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 5, 8, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[John Thornton] “Business trip… I had to go consult on an old con I busted some years ago who decided to set up shop in Texas.”
He draws on the cigarette, the red glow worming steadily toward him as the tip became gray ash. John taps it lightly in the saucer, before the cigarette returns to his lips.
“What did I miss?”
A weary palm rubs at the dark socketted hazel eyes; the layover in Nashville had been brutal.
[Kora] The female Garou shakes her head. It’s a subtle, microgesture of negation. Adrian’s gaze hits her somewhere near the cheekbone, and she leans forward then, inward, with the directed focus of an animal-thing, her head canting neatly to the left, the weight of her blonde hair shifting beneath the hood and then spilling back out and down over her left shoulder, restrained – somewhat – but an orange elastic band pulled to once around the doubled mass. In that moment, she moves with an ease – a grace – that belies her hidden wounds.
“That’s not what I meant.” Kora’s eyes are a dark blue, but in the diner’s uncertain light, they are swimmingly dark, highlighted by fractured cuts of reflected light from the ceiling fixtures. “Is that your choice?”
[Moira Murray] What has he missed… Moira sucks in a deep breath, letting it roll out into a sigh. She begins to scoot out her chair a little. Kora’s attention was on Adrian, which took the weight off of her for now. She starts to gather up the borrowed jacket and stands up, stepping away to move over to the detective and stand next to him.
“Everything and then some. I really could have used you around for some morale support.” She grins up at him, “But that’s understandable with your job.” She tilts her head towards Kora, “New tribesmate – Skald, her name is Kora.” This is spoken in a low voice to John, not meant for the others to hear. She turns now, to watch the table. She fishes out her wallet and begins to peel out a few bills to cover the meals and a tip, leaning over to lay them down on the table.
Moira regards it for a moment, a glance up at the Gnawer, and then picks up the money. “I’m going to go pay the bill. I should be going soon.” With that she walks away from the table to go settle the tab with Bill.
[Marni] Marni has fallen quiet. Connor excused himself, and Moira and the Detective are talking, Kora and Adrian are talking, and Marni is enjoying her first cigarette of the day – even if it’s a late hour.
She listens observes, and gleens little bits of information from it all.
[Marni] She grins up at Moira. “Night – and thanks.”
[Adrian] One corner of his mouth twists up not in mirth, but in wry amusement. There’s more there, behind the rest, and Kora knows it? But it’s something at the back of his eyes, in a minute adjustment of posture, not in his tone or the words he says.
“It wasn’t, no; it happened years ago, when I was still in my teens.”
But he is happier now, valued for his skills, what he is and can do, rather than looked down upon for differences that constitute as failures to many more traditional eyes. As homesick as he’d been at first, as much as he’d missed his brother, the few friends he’d had, he’d eventually felt more comfortable in his skin with Unicorn’s brood than his own. There, he’s always been welcome.
[John Thornton] “The job wants what it wants.”
John stands, and finishes the coffee in the cup in one swig. Then, turning the cup upside down in the saucer, hazel eyes turn to Moira’s departing form.
“Need a ride?”
[Moira Murray] Need a ride?
It takes her a moment to think about that, hearing it after she settles the tab with Bill and says her farewells. She comes back over to the table, she nods to John. “I would like a ride, thank you.”
She buttons up the coat and nods to Marni, Kora and Adrian – “I’m heading off. John will see me back safely, Kora.”
[Adrian] His attention flickers to Moira, and there’s question there (Oh, please . . .), but he doesn’t stop her departure. “Call me. We should have coffee,” he says, quiet, and then his attention returns to Kora.
[Kora] “Then you should meet with the Jarl,” Kora says, with a sort of finality that brooks no opposition. ” – your blood speaks for you. I will arrange it soon.” Moira rises, then – heads to the counter to pay. The blonde Fenrir’s attention rises sharply, like an animal that has sensed something on the wind. She stands stiffly, reaching to catch the chair as it begins to fall with a clatter behind her as she gains her feet, and nods to Marni. “We will have to speak more, another time.”
“If you will excuse me – ” this to all as she stands, just after John. Her nostrils flare again, and frown creases her forehead, neatly bisecting her brows as she studies the man wreathed in smoke. She has heard that name before. Her regard is entire and intense. She looks up and meets Moira’s gaze. Tension builds into the moment. Then, to Moira: “See that he does.”
With that, the Fenrir woman heads for the front door.
[Kora] [Okay, thank you all! I need to sleep. :) ]
[John Thornton] John nods, the hazel eyed gaze moving to the Skald (Kora). A curious brow rises upon his forehead at her tense warning.
“Nice meeting you.”
Then, the gaze turns to Marni, the brow having dropped.
“And you.”
And with that, he would go to retrieve his trench coat. Putting it on, the cigarette held in his lips while doing so, and still as he puts his gloves on as well. Then, turning back, he approaches the table again. A gloved hand takes the lit and steadily dying cigarette between leather bound fingers.
“Lead the way.”
[Moira Murray] There is a tilt of Moira’s eyebrows as she frowns after Kora’s departure and says nothing about it. She nods to Marni and Adrian waving a hand at them again. “I’ll be in touch, Adrian,” a pause, “Good night, Marni.”
When John was ready, Moira led the way out holding the door open for him until he joins her outside and lets it shut behind them, walking with him back to the car.
[Adrian] He blinks after the Skald, who . . . oh, oh. Now, things are going to be interesting, and not in a way Adrian particularly likes the thought of. Now, with everyone departing, he fishes a cigarette from his pack, and pushes a second towards Marni for when she’s done with the one John gave her. After he lights his cigarette (and garners someone’s forgotten to go box to use as an ashtray), he glances Marni’s way. Given the various interactions, certain assumptions can be made, though there’s more that Adrian doesn’t know about the woman than that he does.
“…..you don’t happen to know who the Jarl is, do you?”
It’s resigned, that question.
[Marni] And then there were to. Marni chuckles and shakes her head. “Wonder what the hell that was all about…”
She takes the second offered cigarette and tucks it behind her ear, her curls bouncing slightly as they fall back into place. She tips her head at Adrian, and glances back toward the door, and to him. Assumptions can be made… and he makes the correctly. “Well. I think it might be some dude named Kemp – met him once, and he’s Get, and ranked, so my guess is it’s him.”
A pause. “You don’t wanna meet him at all, do ya…”
[Adrian] “Not as Jarl,” he says with frank honesty in a way that makes it clear that sort of admission doesn’t come often. Adrian has spent a long time learning how to hide his thoughts, his feelings, who and what he is. That there are some things he has no control over, some things he can’t obscure, let alone hide, bothers him immensely, and more than he’d ever admit.
He drags from his cigarette, eyes his quickly cooling cocoa, and sighs. Maybe it won’t be as bad as he thinks. Maybe something will happen and he won’t have to deal with the questions and all the other things that go along with that sort of meeting. He doesn’t ask if this Kemp is nice – he’s Fenrir, and ranked, which makes it doubtful based on Adrian’s prior experiences.
“Though if he’s keen on discussing guns and more ancient weaponry, or warrior civilizations in general, I’d gladly buy him a few pints and talk for hours.” An academic, then, and based on his apparent age, probably still a student.
[Marni] “So why not just tell them you’re Coggie and let it be done with? Ya ain’t the first walkin round here with different blood than their claim would dictate…”
Marni has an open curiosity, and is undeniably cute. Her eyes sparkle with mischief and mirth, and people tend to trust her.
Usually about 4 seconds before she steals their wallet.
“That other dude here – Connor- probably love to talk that kinda shit with ya. Seems bout his cup of tea.”
[Adrian] “I did tell her that.” Just a hint of frustration, though he doesn’t voice any of the things that cause it; it hardly does to criticize the Trueborn to a Trueborn, after all. And Marni is cute, undeniably so – she has the sort of curls that one wants to run one fingers through, and Adrian is no exception to that. “And my foster father already sent notice to the elder here. So I suppose it can’t do any harm to meet with the Jarl with that in mind.”
But he doesn’t want to. He knows how that sort of meeting can go.
[Marni] She grins at him, and takes a last puff off her cigarette and puts it out, before she settles back. “Well, if ya want- I’d be happy to go to the meeting for ya. My kind is known for adopting all sorts, so I can maybe give ya a bit of moral support there.” A pause. “If ya want, that is. Ain’t gonna be all pushy and shit.”
Unlike others. Clearly.
[Adrian] That the support would be greatly appreciated is – for a fleeting moment – clear in eyes and posture. He is steel and granite, strong, a survivor. He is also closed off and, for the most part, difficult to read; obviously he’s not telling how he came to belong to Unicorn when he was still under age, or what he thinks of the whole thing other than his reluctance to have this meeting with the leader of the Get of Fenris of the city in his formal position.
“I may take that offer,” is what he says, instead of the, ‘oh god yes please’ that wants to come. “But only if it won’t cause you any inconvenience.”
[Marni] She waves that away with a chuckle. “No inconvenience. I’m a Gnawer – it’s ALL inconvenient.” There’s the distinct feeling there, though, that she doesn’t mind at all. She’s very comfortable with who she is, with her place on the proverbial totem pole. Makes life a lot more fun when you simply enjoy it.
“Now, I ain’t got a phone or nothin? But you can usually find me in the alleyway bout four blocks from here.” She points in the right direction. “That’s were I bed down for the night – so hit there round this time, and you’ll find me.”
[Adrian] “Alright, then.” The ash on the end of his cigarette is getting quite long by this time – it’s tapped neatly into the unclaimed remains of someone’s pie before the kin takes another drag. With that decided, there’s more relaxation; he’s more like he had been before Kora appeared, before she started asking questions. Friendly, cute. “I’m going to finish my cigarette, but I’ve an early class tomorrow. May I get you anything while I’m still here?”
He knows Gnawers, and can’t imagine living as they tend to – thankfully doesn’t have to, has never had to. And so, especially since she’s offered to help him, he’ll help her as he can.
[Marni] She grins and goes about slipping her coat on. “Nah, I’m good. But I might take you up on that offer another time.”
She winks at him, and then slides her pack over her shoulders and stands.. “I should go lay claim to my spot. I catcha later Adrian. Don’t let the assholes getcha down.” She touches his shoulder as she moves past and then yells “It’s safe to come out Mr. Bill! I’m leavin!” and is rewarded by a muttering growl for her efforts as she skips out the front door.”
[Adrian] And Adrian, after laying down a tip generous enough to keep the staff from complaining overly much about having to put the furniture back and clean up their mess, follows after her, heading back north.