[Marni] (sniff, sniffsniffsniff SNIFF)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 6, 6, 8, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 7) Re-rolls: 1
[Marni] A BG with a full belly is a happy BG indeed, even the gods of the street agree. The city provides, you see, if you’re but patient enough to allow it too. Take now, for instance. There sitting atop a dumpster, for all the world as if it’s a thrown, one curly-haired, perky, and seemingly always smiling gnawer street rat is sitting, digging through a plastic takeout bag. Someone left it atop their car we they drove off, and Marni just happened to be there to see it fall, and reap the benefits.
Not only is it food, but its FRESH, and still warm, and Marni is – quite honestly – in heaven. She digs out a container and pops it open, and soon is using her fingers to scoop up chicken chow mien into her mouth.
Happy, happy Gnawer.
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen had seen the food go flying, watched the car as it taken off, and equally, watched the Gnawer descend on her bounty.
The kinwoman stands near a newspaper vendor, her head half turned to watch the display, before the coarse and heavily accented voice of the shopowner brings her back.
She pays him, tucking the newspaper beneath her arm, before stepping toward the curb.
Several cars pass first. This isn’t a busy street as a rule, but the light has only just gone green. When the spate of traffic has ceased, she begins to cross, her free hand lifting to adjust the collar of her brown leather coat.
[Eddie Vaako] Its a strange, rare day that sees Eddie north of The Loop. Being the sort that gets antsy being anywhere calling his favorite staple a ‘large coffee’ is considered vulgar, he tends to stay south, near his own crowd.
One or two steps up from being a tourist, he’s a touch out of sorts in the land where the predators come with diamond studded claws, and he looks it.
Cars stop for you here. That too, will take getting used to. He still crosses the street in a hurry. The calloused soul is too busy wondering what the catch is to enjoy the politeness.
[Marni] She closes her eyes briefly in obvious delight. It’s not often she gets a hot meal without having to scam someone out of it. This? Is practically a party, and she eats like she hasn’t done so in a week – though it’s only been a couple days. She probably could have gone back to the Yates Brothers’ apartment and begged for a meal, but that’s just not her style.
This, however, is.
As she eats with her fingers, pausing on occasion to lick the sauce off her fingers, she lifts her gaze to study the street from her makeshift thrown. Imogen draws her eye – unsurprisingly, with not only her stunning hair and features, but also her breeding. Marni lifts a hand in a wave with that ever knowing little smile playing about her lips.
[Imogen Slaughter] Her hair, her skin, her fine, delicate features, all set her apart among the humans. She frequently catches men and women looking at her; frequently sees a startling when she enters a room.
She works in a career predominately populated by men.
To a Garou, however, Imogen, on her looks alone would likely not garner a second glance. She’s beautiful, sure, perhaps even stunning, but she would be human. One of the sheep.
For Garou, it is her blood that sets her apart, first. Her appearance second. That she is a pure-bred Kinfolk from a good family is of the utmost importance. That she also happens to be easy on the eyes – merely an added benefit.
All this is to say that it does not matter in which world Imogen exists, human or Garou – she draws attention either way.
Some might say she exists in both. Some might say she does not completely exist in either. It’s all about perspective.
She closes the distance between herself and Marni, Marni on the dumpster, and doesn’t say a word as she comes to a stop in front of the Gnawer, turning her head to look down at her purse as she opens it. The minor contents within click against each other as she searches and comes up with a small plastic fork still in its plastic casing.
Her eyebrow lifts as she offers it to the girl, the oil and dressing of the chowmein glistening on Marni’s fingers.
[Marni] Marni tips her head, curls bouncing about her shoulders where they escape from the knit hat that tries to contain them and fails, miserably. Then she’ laughs, and scrubs her hand clean on the denim stretched across her thigh, and then reaches for the plastic wrapped fork.
“Thank ya. They didn’t put any in here! Of all the nerve!” It’s said with easy good humor as she unwraps the fork, and sticks it in the chow mien. After all, who can complain about no silverware when she’s just been gifted enough food to last her a couple days?
“So, how’s life treatin’ ya?”
She asks, while she watches the streets still and those that come their way – automatic, it is.
[Eddie Vaako] As Eddie trudges his way up the street, his attention is drawn toward a populated alley. Lake View is swept, scrubbed, glossy, fake sparkle.. but some assumptions are hard to shake. After glancing up and down the street and deliberating for a moment, Eddie begins to walk slowly toward the good doctor and the vagrant, scribbling into a small notebook the whole way.
Once finished with the writing, the rangy detective rips off a sheet of paper and tucks the book into his back pocket.
He picks up a bit of speed then, the natural ground eating stride of one used to covering a lot of miles in a day. Once he reaches the alley he slows down, and fixes a stone faced look at the vagrant after greeting Imogen.
“Hey doc..”
pale eyes swing to Marni. “Ma’am, come down a sec, please. I got something for ya.” He pinches the piece of paper between two talon- like fingers.
to Marni
[Eddie Vaako] As Eddie trudges his way up the street, his attention is drawn toward a populated alley. Lake View is swept, scrubbed, glossy, fake sparkle.. but some assumptions are hard to shake. After glancing up and down the street and deliberating for a moment, Eddie begins to walk slowly toward the good doctor and the vagrant, scribbling into a small notebook the whole way.
Once finished with the writing, the rangy detective rips off a sheet of paper and tucks the book into his back pocket.
He picks up a bit of speed then, the natural ground eating stride of one used to covering a lot of miles in a day. Once he reaches the alley he slows down, and fixes a stone faced look at the vagrant after greeting Imogen.
“Hey doc..”
pale eyes swing to Marni. “Ma’am, come down a sec, please. I got something for ya.” He pinches the piece of paper between two talon- like fingers.
[Imogen Slaughter] (oh crap!)
[Imogen Slaughter] (sorry, guys, I didn’t think it was my turn.)
[Marni] And when Eddie joins them, clearly knowing Imogen, Marni quirks a brow at him just studies him for a moment – deciphering the taste of his blood and breeding on the wind, the tales of Amazon’s and Fierce Women, of warriors and heroes.
And he has something for her. Marni dimples into another little smile. She makes sure her backpack is secure on her shoulders, loops the handles of the bag of food around her wrist, and holds on to the container she’s currently chowing down out of, and hops to the ground beside them – landing lightly on her feet, knees flexing automatically before she bounces upright.
She’s on the short side of average, really, and while slender – she’s got padding in all the right places. Even through the dual layer of clothing and the warm winter jacket the last is obvious. She’s undeniably cute, and she knows well how to use it to her advantage – though for now she’s more curious than anything.
“Do ya, then? I’m Marni. Ma’am makes me feel old.” She wrinkles her nose, and even manages not to call Imogen ma’am in her next breath. Sometimes the Raggie has a teeny bit of self preservation skill…
[Marni] (posts so Mei doesn’t feel bad – and behaves and goes in order now. :) )
[Imogen Slaughter] “Well enough,” Imogen replies mildly, her gaze moving to Eddie as he comes up beside her. “Detective.”
A glance toward the sheet of paper, her eyebrow.
“Have you two met?”
[Eddie Vaako] “No…” Eddie looks from Marni, to Imogen, and back again at the question. The notion that they would have met before seems vaguely strange to the older man, but he disregards it and continues what sounds like an often used pitch with Marni.
“Listen, dollface- Po’ po’s gotta yell at you a bit…” He takes a step closer to the cute little vagrant- but not close enough to catch any fleas- and looks back toward the mouth of the alley.
“Ever wonder what kind of cops keep a place like Lake View so quiet? The hard- line kind, kid. Trust me. This is where we send rookies before we throw them into the thresher down south. They cut their teeth here and learn a little restraint.” He flaps a hand briefly and gets to the point.
“Anyways- this is not a good place for you, right?” He extends the hand with the folded paper. “Go here if you need anything. They’ve got food, warm place to sleep, all that stuff- and kid- they’re a lot nicer than Lake View cops, alright? Take off.”
[Marni] Oh. Shit. Detective.
She does a quick mental tally on what’s currently in her backpack, chewing on her lower lip a minute, then two. Crap. She still has the silverware pilfered from Queen Bellamonte’s place, and various little things taken, though… nothing with any names attached, except for the ornate B on the fork and little teacup from the afore mentioned royal palace. She MIGHT be safe.
Play it cool, streetrat. Play it cool.
Po po’s gotta yell… and… She grins up at him and reaches to take the piece of paper, opening it up curiously. “Thank ya, sir. I appreciate the concern.” She doesn’t say she’s faster than she appears – that much will be obvious soon enough. She also doesn’t say she prefers her alley, as most kind strangers and police officers tend to disagree. She just accepts the piece of paper with a dimpled grin and reads.
[Imogen Slaughter] “Emil,” Imogen’s voice is quiet, unobtrusive.
“She’s Garou,” she says, maintaining her tone. “I imagine she’ll find ways to avoid th’police.”
Then, speaking at a normal tone, she continues, “Marni, meet Detective Vaako.” A tilt of her head toward the officer. “Kinfolk.”
[Eddie Vaako] Pale green eyes swing from one woman to the other- well… to the other. For a moment he’s quite at a loss. A rose color rises under deep bronze features as the old Serb takes a step back. His tone almost exactly mirrors Imogen’s. Flat, quiet.. he purses his lips in consternation.
“Well thanks for letting me get through that entire speech before ya told me.. really.” He nods, a bit too politely, then moves his attention to Marni.
“Sorry Ma’a- uh. Marni. Thought you.. eh.. well you know.” He flags a talon- like hand through the air and jerks a slender cigar out from behind his ear, jamming it between his lips for an excuse to close his mouth.
[Marni] “I am, well, ya know. Only not.” She winks and then shrugs. “Hey, you were trying to take care of me – as a streetrat, I appreciate that. Means you try to take care of others like me that ain’t, ya know, exactly like me. Petty damn honorable in my book.”
She tucks the paper into her pocket and grins up at him. “AND I appreciate the info. Knowin’ where to grab a hot shower, a bed and some second hand duds is never a bad thing. I’m new to Chicago, so still finding my way around. I’ll be sure to pay it forward to someone who needs it more the me.”
And then, standing there, she resumes eating her chow mien – this time with the provided fork.
[Imogen Slaughter] The kinswoman merely regards the kinsman flatly with his remonstration. Their expressions mirror each other in tone, though neither have anything remotely familial in their features.
He turns his attention to Marni and apologizes.
Imogen turns her attention down, back to her purse. She retrieves a cigarette case, and steps a few feet away, to light up, her hand cupping the flame as she does.
[Katherine Bellamonte] [Ahem. Sorry, I logged in and abruptly got a phone call about work. *grins* I might regrettably log out since I’ma be a bit! Have fun guys!]
to Eddie Vaako, Imogen Slaughter, Marni
[Eddie Vaako] “Yeah yeah… sure.” He doesn’t get any closer. Simply watches out of the corner of his eye.. a little disturbed at the idea that any of the hobos he’d rousted back when he was condemned to the boring hell of Lake View could have been a monster.. one just letting them get away with throwing some weight around. Blinking, he considers, then retrieves his own lighter from one pocket.
[Marni] She tips her head, curiously at his reaction, and then just leans back against the dumpster. She keeps shoveling the food in like she hasn’t eaten in forever (it’s been two! whole! days! that is forever!) and at least it’s a little cleaner now due to the plastic utensil given her.
“So – what department are you in, Detective?” What she really wants to know is simple – hooooooow sneaky does she have to be get away with her sticky fingered ways… There’s a reason she hasn’t given him her deed name yet, after all.
[Imogen Slaughter] She flicks the zippo repeatedly, but no flame sparks. Imogen’s mouth twists slightly in annoyance as she returns the bronze plated lighter to her pocket.
“Let me borrow yer light when yeh’re done, will you,” to Emil as she takes the cigarette from her lips, holding it pinched between her forefinger and middle.
[Eddie Vaako] “mm-” The sound cuts off as he gets a good start on the slender cigar. Plucking the thing from between his lips with two long, slender fingers, Eddie spits a bit of tobacco out then answers.
“Gangs and Organized Crime. I’m a long way from anything useful to you guys so far.” His attention flickers to Imogen and he wordlessly extends a hand to pass the doc a cheap, battered brass lighter.
[Marni] And there’s that sigh of relief. She grins up at him, and shrugs. “I’m sure you’re more useful than you think. Not that I’m all up in everyone’s grill to determine usefullness. Take me for example…”
And there’s a distinct tease that laces easily under those words, because Marni? Is shameless. “I’m just a little bit of a thing, ain’t got all the RAR power that a lot of others have, so I find other ways to do stuff. Even just handin me those numbers n shit – that stuff ads up. So don’t sell yourself short.”
She grins at Imogen, and shrugs. “Least, that’s the way I see it.”
[Imogen Slaughter] “Ta,” Imogen says, plucking the lighter from Emil’s fingers without touching him, fitting her cigarette between her lips before lighting up.
She hands it back as Marni grins at her.
“I believe he means good fer the cause,” she says. “Rather than good in general.”
[Eddie Vaako] “Yeah that’s what I was getting at.” He nods briefly. “Thanks, though.”
The distant wail of sirens brings his head around briefly, though the rangy detective makes no move toward it. Only old, drilled in reaction. He drops the lighter in a pocket and leans back against the bricks of one of the buildings that faces the alley.
[Marni] “And you think that ain’t good for the cause? It ain’t all gettin in the face of the wyrm and waggling claws and jaws and kickin’ ass. Sometimes a warm place to sleep so ya can recoup is every bit as important as how many enemies ya slay, or what kinda direct line ya can give.”
She shrugs. “Soldiers come in all shapes and sizes and abilities – and it’s all fluid. Background support’s sometimes even more important than getting us the name of some fucktard on the south side that’s got crazy shit growin out his hands, or something. Hell – some days I just need someone to keep my skinny ass fed.” She hoists her dinner and grins. “Not tonight though. Tonight the City Provides.”
[Imogen Slaughter] “Marni,” sometime in the middle of it, Imogen interjects, “I’m sure you mean well, but I don’t believe either of us are in need of an inspiring soliloquy, thank you.”
She takes another drag from her cigarette, turning to exhale away from the two.
[Eddie Vaako] Eddie gets real still. The still of a weasel in a snake pit. Still like deer in a sudden calm. He looks slowly from Imogen to the Garou.. and does nooooot mooooooove.
[Marni] She blinks, and then. “Huh. I..” And she stops.
And then she just shrugs, and then simply steps to the side, between the two, and heads to the sidewalk.. “Thanks for the fork. Guess I gotta bus to catch.”
She slips from her backpack as she moves, to shove tonight’s bounty inside, and zip it up (doesn’t look like it should fit, but miraculously, it does) but for the container she empties as she moves toward the bus stop. Course, she has no intention of actually riding INSIDE the bus, but that’s neither her nor there at the moment.
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen’s gaze lowers briefly, then lifts again as she takes the cigarette from her mouth, ashing it groundward.
“Goodnight,” is all she says.
Some have called her an ice queen, and not without reason.
[Eddie Vaako] As Marni passes between the pair of kinfolk, Eddie’s pale green eyes shift to the face of the pale, willowy woman across from him. He doesn’t move for several moments, not in stance or in attention, and it seems to take no small amount of effort. Something like consternation- or possibly the edges of panic the streets don’t usually let happen in the worldly- wise cop- begins to bubble toward the surface of his deep bronze face.
Smoke wreathes high cheekbones- and eventually the mounting energy is difficult to contain. Talon- like hands snatch the smoke from his lips and Eddie mutters quietly.. his voice its usual deep, contra basso boil.
“This jacket’s dry- clean only. Wanna warn me next time you’re going to do that?” In the way of cops everywhere, he makes a thin attempt to disguise concern with dry humor. Its a cold night. Too cold for that bead of sweat making its way down the side of his face.
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen’s gaze cuts sharply toward Eddie, her eyebrow lifting.
“I beg your pardon?”
[Eddie Vaako] The cherry at the end of his slender cigar scribes a brief, panicked ‘Z’ in the air as he answers, still quiet, still thrumming with jitters.
“Why the hell did you mouth off at one of them like that? I mean even when they deserve it- is that a good idea? Come ON, doc! One of those things almost pulled my face off for looking at her funny- and listen to me- it takes serious speed to beat me to the mattresses, lady. I didn’t have a chance. You know something I don’t?”
[Marni] (don’t mind me)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Marni] She gets to the bus stop, a little bench under a metal cover to keep out at least some of the weather for waiting patrons. She hops up onto the seat of the bench, and then hops up to grab the edge of the cover, and then with a swing and heave, pulls herself over the edge until she’s on top of the bus stop shelter cover thing.
And there she crosses her legs, and waits for the next bus to come along.
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen’s stone-cold calmness is a sharp counterpoint to Emil’s jitters. She regards him silently as he lectures, or vents or berates, all verbs that can be used depending on your point of view.
She takes another hit off her cigarette after his question. She leaves the silence between them, forcing it to elongate as her gaze moves away,watching the bus as it passes, Marni on its roof.
Another drag from her fag, her lungs filling with smoke.
“You’re very new at this,” she says finally. “It’s a bit early t’try t’strike a balance between losin’ yerself and keeping yourself alive.”
She taps cigarette ash from her cigarette, exhaling the last of her breath. “So focus on the latter, will yeh, and don’t use my behaviour as a model.”
Her mouth twists slightly. “In anything. I am, really, a very bad example.”
[Imogen Slaughter] (correction: “glancing at the bus shelter, Marni on its roof.”)
[Eddie Vaako] “Yeah I know-” abruptly the hound- like detective settles into things. Hissing and carrying on at the one ally he’s found in all of this doesn’t seem a great way to go about things, so his words cut off as he scrubs a hand across stubble and settles himself- very like an agitated crow that’s found itself the target of stones.
He cocks his head to watch Imogen. Clear curiosity shimmers in pale eyes for a moment before being swallowed in the maw of a very practised cynical front. Stone faced and calm again, Eddie settles into the wall.. feeling the cold sweep of wind, the crisp scents of Chicago’s grimy environs. This part, he never gets tired of. The startlingly fierce rush of life flooding back in where it was going to be lost a moment ago. The man’s eyes sink to half lids and strangely, he almost luxuriates in it. Usually its the zing of a bullet that brings him here…
Maybe some of the kin stick around for the rush.
[Marni] (and again…)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 5, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6) [WP]
[Imogen Slaughter] There is a certain amount of challenge in the way Imogen regards Eddie while he looks at her, curiosity in his eyes.
“If you have something to ask, ask it,” she says, even as it is swallowed by the pragmatic or cynical side of the Fury Kinfolk.
She takes another drag from her cigarette. There’s some distance between the two Kin. Eddie against the wall, and Imogen standing unassisted a few feet away. Both smoke, but the detective smokes a slender cigar. Imogen smokes Dunhills.
[Kora] The Garou of her tribe tend to stand out on streets like this one, amidst the high-rise condominiums and brand spanking new sushi bars. They have a distinctive look: juvenile (and not-so-juvenile) delinquent or crazy person, or some combination of the two usually covers the spectrum. Kora fits in better, here. From a distance, she could be a graduate student in one of the more useless iterations of the liberal arts. Literary theory, maybe. Or Slavic languages, with a specialization in medieval Polish.
Dressed in a second-hand dark wool peacoat – with missing buttons buttons and a frayed collar – over worn jeans tucked into a pair of old Doc Martin’s, she’s not remarkable from a distance. Up close, though, there’s that same juvenile delinquent vibe – the suggestion of danger tattooed into the surface of her skin, the wolf in her close to the surface, a feral substructure to her too-human superego. The young woman exits one of the stores opposite the bus stop, tucking something into an inner pocket of her wool coat. Then she stops, her face a pale smear in the darkness, her expression lost in distance and darkness, looking up at the plastic roof of the bus shelter, and Marni perched there. She stays where she is, in the middle of the sidewalk, and a couple holding hands unconsciously parts to walk around her rather than brushing up too close. She’s used to that now. Mostly.
Traffic’s light. Kora cuts across the street without trouble, half-jogging through the slush captured and then erased by the spotlight of the headlights of a car making a left turn at the light. Ducking just behind the bus shelter, Kora shoots another look up at Marni, bemused, then continues on toward the kin.
[Marni] Speaking of sticking around for the rush, a bus rounds the corner and heads for the stop. People or no, they always stop for at least a few seconds, and a few seconds is all Marni needs. She shifts her position till she’s crouched easily on the top of the shelter, and as the bus pulls to the edge of the curb. She gauges the distance, and then stands, takes a two step run from one end t the other of the shelter, and leaps..
…and lands neatly and gracefully atop the bus, sinking with the impact to let the shock roll through her slender frame, fingertips finding the roof of the bus t keep her balance, as she settles.
The bus pulls out, starting on it’s way, and for a brief moment Mari stands, her arms outstretched, and laughs out loud, tipping an imaginary hat to Kora and the Kinfolk with a bow – before she sinks down, and finds a comfortable spot and position to relax in so se can move with the vehicle as it gather’s speed…
[Marni] (wow. way to typo your own name, Marni. *L*)
[Eddie Vaako] “Kiddin’ me, crazy bitch? You mouth off at garou-” He sweeps a hand almost playfully to the side. “I’m definitely not gonna be able to take you.”
The banter stills as the other garou moves closer. Its nothing the rangy cop can put his finger on.. just a sense of waiting bleeding from the brick. Of pregnant pauses strung together while a predator passes by. Being a predator himself, though a smaller one, Eddie takes notice. The long, strong fingers of his warlike right hand flex and stretch against each other as he plucks the smoke from his mouth with his left and turns slightly, milky green eyes sweeping the alleyway at both ends..
..the hairs at the back of his neck prick and stiffen.
[Kora] The creature spares a glance for Eddie settled against the wall; the look fixes as he casts a sweeping glance up and down then alley, then falls away toward the slight kinswoman near him. “Doc,” a corner of her mouth twists. It could be read as sardonic, but most of the Fenrir woman’s features are scored by shadow and her eyes, particularly, are dark and unreadable. The bus, with its newest non-paying passenger cuts past them, passengers staring out from the glowing green interior slack-eyed and tired, none the wiser as to Marni’s presence.
Kora looks up as the cloud of the bus’s exhaust briefly envelopes the trio left behind on the street, picking out Marni’s silhouette against the curved roofline of the bus. “I was going to tell you that there’s a woman on the roof of the bus stop, but she’s jumped onto the bus. Bit more extreme than your usual fare-skipping.”
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen’s features tighten, her jaw clenches. She is a woman of subtleties, of slight expressions, but subtle though she is, there is no mistaking her flare of reaction when he calls her a crazy bitch – jokingly or not.
“I have a name,” she says, “and it is neither crazy nor bitch. I would appreciate it if you kept it straight.”
That Kora is close enough to hear – Imogen does not seem to care.
However, with that, she turns toward the Garou, her irritation subsuming, settling.
“I get the impression she likes it,” she says, of Marni’s bus surfing. “Though I must say, it’s not particularly -” a pause, as if to search for the word, “Subtle.”
[Eddie Vaako] Imogen’s reaction brings the joking to a crashing halt. The cigar is drawn slowly back toward his mouth as interest flickers through the too- lean cop’s face. Gone as swiftly as its born, Eddie doesn’t reply. Fragility of ego could be called one of his faults, but not in situations like that. The momentary awkwardness isn’t allowed to settle if it was there to begin with. Only a beat later than Imogen’s, Eddie’s attention sweeps to Kora.
Content for now to read the line of jaw, the angle of form in comparison to others, whatever esoteric trivia consumes cops upon meeting strangers.
Especially strangers with the sort of vibe that makes one take notice.
[Kora] “It’s a game of expectations, I think – ” Kora’s features are settled, but there’s a curl of amusement that twists her mouth and sparks in her eyes as the thought occurs to her. She reaches up to push her hair away from her face, to tuck loose strands behind her ear. There’s one earring there, a thick ring pierced through the inner cartilage, with a long tapered charm the size of a child’s fingerbone mostly hidden behind the shell of her ear. Her fingers are long and strong, with blunt nails painted a peeling black. There is the suggestion of ink on the inner hollow of her wrist, beneath a handful of braided leather bracelets. “How many people look up? You see what you expect to see in your world, and find a way to explain away the rest. If I see her again, though, I’ll give her a bus pass.”
Kora shoots Eddie another look, tipping her head in his direction. “Friend of yours, doc?” There’s something tight in the inquiry; leashed and alert.