[Izzy Montoya] It’s a rare thing, this. It is not a crime scene, nor an arrest, nor something job related where we find Izzy today. No, it’s actually dinner time, on time for a change, though she is still, technically, always on call. It’s been on the warm side, still, though overcast and threatening rain, and as such some of the more ambitious of little eateries have jumped the gun and opened their patios in a case of Spring Fever.
It’s seated at one of these patios that we find one Detective Montoya, an empty plate set on the edge of the table with the remains of her dinner, and a cup of coffee nearby. Directly in front of her, a manila folder that she’s thumbing through, pausing to read and compare and take notes in her little notebook.
She pauses, and lifts her coffee for a swallow, dark eyes searching the street asshe does so, before she returns her attention to the files. Quite the workaholic, Izzy.
[Thoth Massri] New city, new streets, new patterns. All must be taken into account when one walks a new place and having had a very restful morning, Thoth is breathing it in, soaking the city into his soul so that he may properly defend it when the time came.
He walks slowly along the sidewalk his steps measured and steady, his trunk like arm’s swinging gently in the air. His face is neutral, his gaze watchful, and while his rage is hidden deep beneath a trained mind and body people move around him more because of his bearing, and his height.
He is dressed fairly simply a dark green cotton shirt adorns his torso and covers his arms, while a dark grey vest hangs loosely around his body, there are no buttons on that vest, only old leather ties, an outmodded fashion, or style from another place. His legs are hidden beneath a pair of old and faded jeans, and his feet encased in a pair of sturdy, age worn boots, the make unknown to America, made somewhere where boots are still meant to last you a lifetime.
[Imogen Slaughter] “Your case made front page – ” the path that Imogen made to Izzy Montoya is thus: From the other side of the street she exits a small office building. Crosses the road – jaywalking, after having looked both ways and found a gap in the traffic.
Then, having seen the detective, she climbs the stairs to the patio and heads for her table. She’s slight, slim and poised in her business suit and leather coat. Though she carries a newspaper under her arm, she does not pass it over, perhaps presuming that Izzy would not care quite so much as to what to pore over the entire article.
An eyebrow cocks slightly, as she tucks the newspaper further beneath her arm, allowing herself both hands free to retrieve the paraphernalia of her addiction – cigarette case, zippo. “Did you see?”
Half a block down, a man in unamerican attire, with rich dark skin, walks like he could walk forever. She catches sight of him out of the corner of her eye, and lifts her gaze. It lingers there, her eyes narrowing, before she turns her attention back for Detective Montoya’s reply.
[Izzy Montoya] She arches a brow, slightly, as Imogen closes the distance, and makes her pronouncement. Slender fingers close the folder in front of her, and flip the notebook closed as well, setting the later on top of the former, laying her pen next t it.
“Did it?” Apparently, she hasn’t seen. A beat “Which one? I haven’t seen the paper yet today – been moving since ohgodthirty.”
She follows Imogen’s gaze to the man in unamaerican attire, and the back to Imogen, a brow cocking slightly in question, curious. “Have a seat if ya like.”
[Thoth Massri] He continues along his path in their general direction, so far having not taken the time to notice them. His gaze is fixed on the buildings around him, more then the people. After all you found people everywhere, and more often then not, they were the same no matter where you went. The buildings though…there was a notable difference.
He steps up along the patio now, and his gaze turns towards the building, and by proxy the people gathered there. His gaze would have continued along, but instead it catches sight of the two kin, which brings him to a slow stop. He regards them for a few seconds, considering them.
[Imogen Slaughter] “The Hamilton case,” she answers, pulling back a chair and lowering herself into it. The newspaper is dropped onto the table, and her cigarette is fitted between her lips and lit up. Her next works come on a cloud of smoke.
“The one tha’ happened at quarter to ‘oh-god’.” The way she handles the dramatization of the time seems to be in response merely to Izzy’s. She would never use it herself, but now that the other has, she uses it as a form of humour, cutting and dry.
Thoth slows to a stop and looks at the kinfolk – both are purebred, though their tribes are different. Both are attractive, though in different ways, Imogen bright as flame and pale as porcelain, her body seemingly fragile and slender. Izzy with her darker hair, strong featured face, a stubborn set to her jaw. One is a police officer, the other is not. It would not take much to figure out who is who.
Imogen turns her head to look at the newcomer, her gaze coming to rest on him in the seconds that he considers them.
It is all the time he is given.
“You might as well come and introduce yourself,” she says, pitching her voice to be easily heard by him.
[Izzy Montoya] “Ah, yes. That one.” Her lips curve into a bemused smirk to hear Imogen use the phrase, the humor cutting, dry, and no less amusing.
The paper is dropped on the table, and she reaches for it, turning it a bit to check out the headline. Fortunately, no horrible picture of herself accompanies it, instead showing the taped off crime scene. A nod, slight. “Explains the influx of press – and the frazzled looking Yates.”
Imogen invites the man staring at them to introduce himself, and Izzy starts to dig for her own pack and lighter, to join Imogen in their shared addiction, muttering “I swear, there’s someone new staring every time I turn around…”
[Thoth Massri] The man strides up onto the patio with considerably few strides then there were stairs and moving over to the pair. He nods politely, but his face does not smile as he looks down at the pair. “Good evening, was I so obvious?”
His voice rolls from him like distant thunder, at this range he smells of sand and open places, or fresh water and ancient lands. He stands there, not taking a seat, simply watching the two of them. Imogen in particular, given her brazen act of calling him. If he finds it disturbing though, he shows no sign of it.
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen’s gaze cuts to Izzy at her mutter, and lingers there, briefly. A small, infinitesimal nod, and she turns her attention back.
Her gaze is even, direct. Unflinching. She has lowered her cigarette and rests her wrist on the table’s edge, the fag caught between her middle finger and fore, the ember slowly burning, eating away paper and tar.
“No,” she says simply, “but the signs are there if yeh know where t’look.”
Her own voice is a singer’s trained, rich and warm in a way her tone would never be. It is pleasant to the ear, carefully modulated.
“Are you recently arrived to Chicago, then?” she asks, lifting the cancerstick back to her lips.
[Izzy Montoya] She finally locates her pack and lighter and goes about freeing a cigarette from the pack and propping it between her lips, flicking the battered bic to set flame to the end of paper wrapped tobacco. An inhale, and she’s dropping the lighter on the table and leaning back, exhaling toward the street, away from her companions.
Imogen answers the Garou’s question and asks one of her own, and Izzy – shock of shocks – remains quiet, and waits for the answer.
[Thoth Massri] “Perceptive…an important trait to have these days.” He says slowly, meaningfully before his gaze shifts between the two, he doesn’t move his body much as he talks, he stands there, straight and tall, but at the same time somehow resting.
“I have recently arrived yes. I am simply gathering a feel for the streets, the parks, the buildings. My name is Thoth Massri.” His voice is thick and strange, wherever it is from, it is not native to the america’s. He stares back into Imogen’s eyes, his own a deep brown, so much so that they almost meld with his face the only sign of separation being the thin whites of his eyes. He shows no sign of discomfort or anger at her stare, instead he simply guages the woman.
[Imogen Slaughter] “Imogen Slaughter,” she says in return, her introduction concise and without anything resembling frills. It matches the other’s perfectly. Neither offer tribe or affiliations. Her gaze does not waver as he meets her eyes – they are blue, the colour of twilight, or the spaces between the stars.
“A pleasure.” This is by rote.
She takes a drag from her cigarette, a deep inhale, her hand lowering, her arm extending so that she can tap ash into the ashtray. She turns her head away as she exhales, blowing the smoke away from the Garou, the other kinfolk.
“Ha’ you been directed where yeh need to go?” she asks, turning back. The way she asks it – it sounds like she says it to every Garou who is new to the city. It sounds like she’s said it a lot.
[Izzy Montoya] “Detective Izzy Montoya.” she adds, on the heals of Imogen’s introduction. She doesn’t add her tribe, either, as she watches the interaction. Her own gaze is no less direct, though they look at each other rather than her.
Which, to be honest, is perfectly alright.
Imogen finishes her statements with what she must have said hundreds of times, and Izzy reaches for her coffee and takes a swallow or four, before setting the cup back on the table.
[Thoth Massri] Thoth does not break her gaze, it might even seem unsettling as they almost stare at each other. There is no menace in his gaze, only a measuring, weighing look. When she asks her question a thin smile spreads across his lips. “I do not enter a city without knowledge of where to go before hand. It is something you learn on the road…always know where you are going.”
He almost looks like he would break his eyes from her at last. But he doesn’t instead he speaks once more. “Your eyes are quite pretty.”
[Kire Gustarf] The day had started normally, but as it went, it grew stranger and stranger. Kire had woken up, shaved enough so that his beard didn’t look so wild, gotten dressed in a red t-shirt, black flight jacket and dark blue Dickies pants, and gone to work. When he got there, however, he discovered it closed, an accidental discharge of some kind, now one of his co-workers was hospitalized from shooting himself in the shoulder. Now, he had a free day and didn’t know what to do with it. For him, it wasn’t so much a pleasure as a nightmare, he lived his life too strictly, too disciplined from being on the battlefield on and off his whole life, take out something of this magnitude and his day fell apart. And in an attempt to salvage it, he had decided to go to a shooting range, and had gotten stopped by the police on the way. He managed to talk his way out of it since he had all the credentials, but his plan had been shot to pieces because now he didn’t want to risk an incident or getting in trouble.
Now he was on his second attempt to find something to do, and slightly desperate, he didn’t have many hobbies that didn’t involve either firing guns, killing things (which was related but not always) and locking himself in a dark room to play with gunpowder and other volatile chemical substances, smelt some metals, and just generally play mad scientist as he tried to find a new way to make make his bullets maintain efficiency while lowering the recoil and wear. This time it’d be foolproof, he was going to get something eat and maybe take a walk around town, which was roughly what he’d done all day in the first place.
[Imogen Slaughter] He watches her without menace, with more of a measuring, weighing look. She has a certain defiance in her gaze. Daring him to look at her and find her flawed.
He compliments her, and her eyebrow lifts. “So I’ve been told,” she replies, “However, there is a time and a place – neither of which you will find with me.” Their gazes break as she turns away, picking up her cigarette from the ashtray. She taps it free of ashes, and picks it up again, taking a final drag before she stubs it out.
“I’m goin’ to get a coffee,” she says, turning her attention back to the unfamiliar Garou, “if Detective Montoya does not object, you are welcome to join us. Otherwise, welcome to Chicago.”
[Izzy Montoya] Sometimes, one’s training is called unexpectedly to the fore. This is one of those times. The unfamiliar Garou decides to flirt with the good Doctor, and other than the briefest arch of a brow, Izzy remains expressionless. She does not show her amusement – if indeed she is amused – or anything else. No, she simply lifts her cigarette to her lips, and take a drag, and watches it all unfold.
Including the verbal smackdown before Imogen heads away to get her coffee. Izzy doesn’t say if she objects or not, just yet – no, she instead waits, and studies him. She misses very little – she is quite a perceptive person all things considered, which is partially why she isso damn good at her job. Should he ask, then she flicks her fingers in absent gesture toward a chair, suggesting she doesn’t mind.
Call it curiosity… or something.
[Thoth Massri] The smack down is delivered, and it seems to wash around the man like water over a stone. He says no more to Imogen, as she walks away, his gaze following her before he turns to Izzy. He turns those same eyes onto Izzy now, but they part from her when she offers the chair.
A small smile breaks across his lips and he nods his thanks, sitting himself down slowly, the chair creeking slightly as it takes his weight. “Thank you Detective.” His gaze slides back to Imogen as she departs to get her coffee. “She is not fond of us.” A statement, more then anything else.
[Izzy Montoya] “And by ‘us’ you mean you.”
A smirk finds familiar space across her lips as she continues to watch him. There is no fondness in her gaze either – but a wariness, a determination, a defiance that likely matches that of Imogen’s- even if it is less refined, and more prone to acts of aggression.
“However, I’d suggest not making snap judgments on thirty seconds of conversation, one flirt and resultant smack down. Anything you garner in that amount of time is likely to be incorrect at best, and incomplete at worst.”
[Imogen Slaughter] The red-haired doctor disappears into the cafe. There are a few people in line. Her back to the patio as she stands there, she could almost be one of the sheep – but even through glass and distance, her breeding hangs in the air. Even through it, her hair sets her apart.
(And! With perfect timing, eating dinner, brb! Imogen stands in line for this time.)
[Thoth Massri] “I was not flirting.” He says specifically, and he means it as his voice rumbles. His face betrays as little as before, his eyes level with Izzy’s as he sits there in that chair, unmoving. When she offers that advice he nods. “You can learn much about a person from the first impression, but you are correct Detective, you cannot learn everything.”
At that he seems to decide he’s said enough on that topic, and he falls silent for several long minutes, looking away at the buildings once more. Before speaking again. “Are all the kin in this city so distant?”
[Kire Gustarf] Kire’s trip through the city had taken him many places, first the Mile, then Chinatown, and now the Lake View, a place he definitely didn’t hang around usually. It was a breath of fresh air in a way, since now he was genuinely interested in his trek, maybe if he hadn’t been having such a frustrating day, he would have done what he usually did and ignored the sight of another garou he didn’t know, he’d attempted to introduce himself to others recently and found it wasn’t the best of ideas.
Now, his strategy involved only getting to know them when circumstances ended up bringing them together, like the battle at Bronzeville a while back, and the battle in the Umbra of Grant Park just recently. Today, however, he decided otherwise, he chose to change path and head towards the large man, who seemed to be speaking to two other women, neither of them seemed all that happy, though maybe it was an effect of the angle he was looking from and the distance. He was certain of the man’s garou nature, not just because of instinct in the back of his mind, but simple logical fact as people seemed to avoid moving near him, just like they did to Kire himself due to his own, rather powerful, Rage.
((Sorry for the slow rate, I’m multi-tasking))
[Izzy Montoya] She smirks, and lifts her cigarette to her lips again, takes a final drag, and exhales toward the street as she stamps out the butt in the ashtray. She settles back into her chair, folding her hands in her lap as she continues to study him.
“As I have not met all of them, I couldn’t say. I’m sure if you are seeking an open armed welcome wagon, there are those individuals that would comply.” And it’s just as obvious she is not one of them.
[anymore]
[Thoth Massri] “I am looking for neither, I am looking to find out how this city is built, and more importantly, how it will stand when tested.”
He says calmly watching the city move around them. When he spots kire, his eyes narrow slightly, feeling much the same thing that Kire seems to have felt with him. He doesn’t smile, and he doesn’t frown, he simple ensures that Kire knows he is aware of him, before turning back to Izzy.
“I hope you will not mind another, for he is approaching as we speak.”
[Izzy Montoya] There’s a sound at the back of her throat, undefined, and unexplained.
She shifts her gaze toward Kire, however, when he approaches. and the smirk reappears at Thoth’s comment. “As in many things, I’m certain I haven’t much choice one way or the other if I intend to finish my coffee.” Which she apparently does, as she reaches for it and takes another drink.
There is a subtle tension along her spine, a reaction that is not wholly uncontrolled, as the rage in the air thickens noticeably. She crosses her legs under the table, smoothing her slacks along her thigh, and waits.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] A face hovers just round the corner of the coffee house and then promptly draws back in. Combat boots scuffing against asphalt as the diminutive figure slides halfway down the wall, listening to the leather of her coat scrape against the brick surface. A round, cherub face twists in a snarl of pain, bottom lip tucked inward, biting back a whine.
Long and curly, bleach blond hair falls across her shoulders, sticking out at all ends from underneath a black knit cap. She leans to the side again, head poking around the corner as she can see the people on the patio, talking, their voices drifting back to her ears as she tries to decipher words.
The little Gnawer draws in a deep breath, shoving herself away from the wall and begins to exit. Her gait is a slow shuffle – each step carried with a small wince. She straightens her shoulders, pulling the long leather coat with its wide fur trimmed sleeves more around her frame. Dust and mud cover her clothes, the unwashed scent of body odor and blood clings to her as she heads towards the group chatting outside.
[Kire Gustarf] With the other man’s glance, Kire’s pace steadily sped up, at least now he wasn’t approaching completely unexpected, just unannounced. By the time he was a few feet from the pair, he slowed down to a near halt, preferring not to intrude into their person space just yet. Once he was at an angle to be in their line of sight, Kire simply gave a curt nod towards the man, and another towards the woman. No words or introduction yet, he wasn’t exactly waiting for an invitation, but at least he could judge what to expect with the expression they gave him.
[Thoth Massri] Two people approach from different directions, some garou might take that as a threat. Thoth just sits there waiting, if they were going to attack him, they they would. He gazes briefly, cooly over at Kire and nods, before turning his gaze on the fluffy haired gnawer approaching them. He regards her approach, letting her know that he see’s her, and is watching before turning back to Kire.
“Good evening.” Is all he starts with.
[Izzy Montoya] She says nothing, though her attention is drawn to the gnawer, who walks with a limp. There’s a slight lift of a brow, questioning. A flick of her dark eyes to Kire as he nears, Thoth as he speaks, and then back.
She’s beginning to feel surrounded. It can’t be a mistake that such a feeling results in her adjusting her jacket, slightly, and sliding a hand to the small of her back, checking the placement and availability of her weapon. Her hand returns – empty – only to reach for her cup again, and take a sip.
Shockingly, she remains quiet.
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen approaches – and her steps falter slightly at the door, seeing two approach from two different directions. A copper eyebrow wings upward and she flicks a dark eyed gaze from one to the other before walking back toward the table.
“Popular place,” she observes, dryly, not bothering to hide her commentary.
She retakes her seat, leaning back to watch the oncoming Garou.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] The pedigree swimming off the women and Thoth is overwhelming. Her nose wrinkles up as if she has smelled something bad, or worse than she did. Eyes, wide and blue, blink suddenly. Another round of shuffling steps brings her closer to the group as Imogen’s face draws a tilt of her head.
Lips twist into another snarl of pain. She pulls a hand out from beneath her coat, waving red-stained fingers at them before it disappears back inside to press against her side.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] (Imogen’s voice! Not face!)
[Imogen Slaughter] (I was just gonna say! SHE WASHED IT THIS MORNING!)
[Mama Ankle-Biter] (Shush! =P )
[Kire Gustarf] Kire remained silent at Thoth’s words, his gaze on Izzy, studying her movements as she seemed to tense up. Her movements were noted, but before he could say anything, Imogen returned. He turned to her for a moment, and nodded just like he had when he approached Izzy and Thoth, he felt slightly nervous now at the crowd, now that he noticed another’s approach, he was bad with people and this wasn’t making it easy.
“Hello,” he spoke almost mechanically towards Thoth, it wasn’t on purpose but that was how it came out, the other off thing was his obvious and thick accent, Eastern Europe or such an area if they knew enough to recognize it. Then, he gazed at Izzy again. “I wouldn’t recommend that, the people here could probably rip out your throat before you could get a shot in.”
His comment was meant neither as a threat nor a warning, just some advice, unfortunately if he knew any better, he’d realized it probably wouldn’t be taken as such.
[Thoth Massri] Thoth watched Izzy as she checked whatever it was behind her back, he’s not familiar with firearms, but he is familiar with that age old location for hiding one’s weapon. A single brow rises barely a centimeter, but he turns his gaze to Kire when he says his hello.
“Are you going to join us brother? or stand on the street all night?” He asks, firm and slow, that thunderous voice rolling over Kire before he turns his gaze once more to Mama. He almost frowns when she wrinkles her nose like they smelled bad, however when she waves blood stained hands at him. He rises from his chair and starts towards her.
He approaches slow and ponderous, giving Mama plenty of time to react if necessary, she might not be certain of his intent as his face is a blank mask as he approaches. When he is closer he speaks to her, softly, from a relatively generous distance. “What did this too you?”
[Izzy Montoya] She arches a brow. “Wouldn’t recommend what, exactly? You know what they say about assuming, don’t you…”
She remains sitting exactly as she has been, one slender leg crossed, her back straight, yet settled against the chair, clearly not drawing a weapon, though she did make sure it was settled where it’s supposed to be.
She arches a brow at Mama’s bloody hands, but remains quiet as Thoth goes to check on her.
[Imogen Slaughter] “I don’t know about where you’re from,” Imogen says mildly to Kire, “but here, the kinfolk are wary, not stupid.”
Then her attention is caught by Thoth rising. her eyes move toward Mama, flick downward to see blood stained hands. A line forms between her eyebrows and she shifts, straightening a little in her seat.
Still, she makes no move to follow.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] She has to swallow several to try and erase the dryness that has formed in her throat. Her upper lip peels back in a half-snarl of pain once more as it laces up through her side. She tilts her head back, eyes rising up to follow the full length of Thoth that towers over her like a dark shadow. He keeps his distance, the little Gnawer tilts her head, casting a nervous glance over one shoulder back behind her and then the other.
“Dancing…” She murmurs in a shallow voice, “Spiral… town north of city… run distance… Lost… pack.”
[Kire Gustarf] Kire was about to apologize for his ‘assumption’ when he heard the new addition’s explanation, he snapped around to her and studied her, trying to make out how wounded she was and if he had to, offer some first aid. His interest in it was mostly because it gave him something to do, rather than any actual thoughts of her well-being. “Spirals… Where exactly? The other day, we encountered some in the Umbra of Grant Park, they were using a unicorn spirit to lure us into a trap.”
His eyes might seem like they were shining with anticipation to anyone else who looked in, it was obvious the Ahroun was thirsty for some blood. Or at least something to distract him.
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen’s attention has also latched upon the unfamiliar Garou, her eyes narrowing, before she looks away and about them. Though they are hardly in a crowd, it is a street which is populated by humans, in front of a cafe patroned by humans.
“We should get her out o’ the street,” she says, quietly. “Blood’ll draw attention.”
[Thoth Massri] Thoth only nods at her description as he takes the last few steps up to her and kneels, unconcerned with the others about. “I will ask specifics of you later. This is not the place we should be. Come we should leave.”
He says stepping asside allowing the wounded woman to move of her own free will, or aid her if she cannot. His gaze is still appraising, still judging even now. His gaze falls on Imogen at that moment as she suggests it as well. “Would you know anywhere we can take her in the immediate area Imogen?”
[Imogen Slaughter] Her mouth twists slightly, a wry and dry movement with out anything resembling humour.
“I would recommend the shadow,” she says displaying something resembling an uncommon knowledge of Garou and their terms.
A tilt of her head, “That alleyway should hide yer passing.”
[Izzy Montoya] She watches, finishing of her coffee, and setting the empty cup on the table as she listens, and keeps an eye on the street.
(eating dinner!)
[Kire Gustarf] Kire simply follows them silently, keeping an eye on the group and whatever they decided to do, waiting for some information on the location so he can set off to ‘investigate’. Though he wasn’t foolish enough to think he could do it alone.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] She sucks in a quick breath, face scrunching up, listening as they try to decide where to direct her. She doesn’t look like she will move quickly, the small gnawer already taking shuffling steps as she looks towards around in the direction they want her to go. The thickening scent of blood fresh as it begins to soak through the layers of clothing under her long coat and taking the stockings covering her legs as it races down in a line into her left boot.
[Thoth Massri] Thoth finally grimaces the idea unpleasant to him. “I would have preferred a location on this side, but very well.” He says as he looks to Mama. “Come.”
At that he turns and goes to move towards the patio’s exit. He stands at the exit and watches those who follow and he frowns when he sees how slow Mama is moving. “Do you need assistance?” He asks directly, not wanting to waste time with preserving anyones dignity here.
[Izzy Montoya] She arches a brow slightly, that Thoth would prefer someplace on this side. Weird. She says nothing, though, and reaches for her pack of cigarettes, lighting another and propping it between her lips as she slides the files she was working on into the briefcase that rests against her chair.
[Imogen Slaughter] “It’s too far,” Imogen answers without much by way of apology. “The shadow is right here.” Her eyes lower to the other’s wounds, then the blood streaking down her leg. Imogen gets to her feet, uncoiling from her chair, and turning away from the bay windows of the cafe. Why, becomes quickly apparent.
She slides out of her leather coat, then the suit jacket beneath it. Her weaponry, two guns, at the small of her back could occasion comment from humans, or at least concern – though they are only briefly visible, wedged between the silk of her blouse, the waistline of her slacks, before she obscures it again beneath her leather coat, shrugging back into it.
She bunches her suit jacket in her hands as she steps forward, holding it out to the Gnawer.
“Hardly a bandage,” she says, “but better than nothing to staunch the blood.” She isn’t being kind, a significant and deliberate glance to the blood drops on the sidewalk before turning back, “I don’t need it back.”
[Mama Ankle-Biter] A snarl of pain vibrates along her lips, exposing a full row of teeth at Thoth for a second. Her head canting down as bleach blond curls nearly blind her as they cling to her cheeks. Sweating beading along her forehead. The hand inside her coat pressing harder to a hidden wound.
Fatigue wears on the small Gnawer who is starting to shake. She watches Imogen with a feral tilt of her head, eyes narrowing slowly, until she realizes what the kin was doing. She accepts the offer of the jacket, the bloody hand pulling out from under her coat once again. Dark and sticky with fresh blood as she takes the wad of cloth and stuffs it back inside, pressing it to the wounds.
“Halp…?” She continues to shuffle forward not moving nearly as fast as Thoth would like.
[Kire Gustarf] He followed them, quietly listening to them discuss what to do, and watching the seemingly apathetic woman give her coat out, even if it seemed like it was just to avoid a mess rather than anything else. He preferred to avoid this as well but kept quiet, the experience with the unicorn still fresh on his mind. Instead, he offered what little he could in the way of help. “Once we get there, if you give me a moment I can at least patch you up until you can get some real help.”
[Thoth Massri] Thoth simply nods and moves back to aid the woman, he considers the size difference between the two of them, and though it may not please her to have it happen. He kneels down to pick her up, if she resists that, he will simply take an arm over his shoulder and allow her to lean on him before continuing towards the alley.
A last look given to Imogen and Izzy before he turns his attention fully to the wolf in need.” Good evening, it was good to meet you.”
[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen’s breath exhales softly, some sort of amusement at Thoth’s politeness. “Goodnight,” this to all, or none, as she turns away, heading back up the patio.
As they are limping, or carrying and being carried toward their alleyway, Imogen picks up her cup of coffee and brings it back to where they’d stood, dumping the hot liquid over where the interloper had stood, then dropping the cup, its lid to the ground.
Art: coffee cup askew, with its contents spewed over a sidewalk in grey. Red blood hidden and washed away underneath.
Or something like that.
She turns her head to glance at Izzy, an eyebrow arching. “I think that concludes the evening, don’t you?”
[Izzy Montoya] She chuckles as Imogen rejoins her, and stands, resettling her coat about her slender form as she does so, before she bends to pick up her briefcase.
“I should say say so.” A spark of amusement dances in the darkness of her eyes, as she nods. “Maybe next time we can attract four of them…”
The Garou do tend to flock their direction. Too bad neither woman is really accepting of such attention.
[Mama Ankle-Biter] The little Gnawer releases a sharp exhale of air, breath rolling out in a loud gasp as Thoth plucks her up like she were nothing and starts to carry her off. Her voice rumbles out in a small growl of pain at the Strider.
“Rat-eater…” Her head slumping forward, chin coming to rest on her collarbone.
[Imogen Slaughter] (and i’m out! thanks so much for the scene, guys, I had a lot of fun!)
[Thoth Massri] ((Later Mei))
[Izzy Montoya] (Me too – and ditto! :) )