[Boy] Boy wasn’t smiling tonight. Not even to Marcus. He nods in response to the greeting, but his head also indicates the still silent so-called-kin.
“Marcus, do you know this guy? He says he’s kin. He’s awfully curious for a stranger.”
[Cecil Smith] *The note pad now reads::* Cecil Smith. Mary Alice, child of gaia kin, mentioned this might be a likely place to find family. Excuse if I’ve interrupted something important.
[John Thornton] John’s hand absently reaches for the bottle of scotch and refills the tumbler with the amber liquor. His eyes remain focused on Cecil thereafter, even as he takes another swallow of the scotch once the tumbler is filled.
His jaw tightens once again in response as the glass is lowered from his lips… A flush beginning to creep over his cheeks and ears as the alcohol gains greater sway over the detective.
[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *Marcus nods to Sinclair and John in turn, but doesn’t interrupt their conversation.*
Marcus turns to look at Cecil, and says.* “No. No I don’t.” *Marcus leans over and looks at Cecil’s notepad.* “Well I suppose that explains it… At least as much as we’re gonna find out right now.” *He smiles at Boy.* “How are you? How is Wendy doing?” *He says politely.*
[Sinclair] When her turn comes to read the notepad, Sinclair just says: “Huh,” and passes it on to whoever takes it from her, eyes still on Cecil. “I’m surrounded by hot old dudes,” she says thoughtfully, and reaches for John’s bottle of scotch again.
[Nessa] “$%&+.”
One word, in Russian, from the laundry room. After a few moments of minor banging around, switching and restarting a machine, Nessa emerges again, faintly disgruntled, her hint of a frown just a little ominous, or perhaps that’s her Shadowlord breeding.
People in the commons room. This time she looks more directly, At the tension in the room, at the faces, instead of swimming with the emotional current away. Never mind that the garou can be perfectly happy and content– their souls are still intense, buffets a kinfolk sometimes like a tree in a hurricane.
She pauses for a long moment, a deep breath’s worth, before allowing her storm to enter their ‘peace’, before she moves to sit near to John, but not too close.
“Privyet,” She offers generally, which is probably easy enough to get away with.
Maybe.
[Maija] She digs her keys out of her pocket and promptly drops them. She sighs and sinks to a crouch to pick them up, then stand again, the slowness of the movement giving away just how exhausted she is. She manages to get her door unlocked, opens it and slips inside, pushing the door closed behind her as she tosses her shirt to the side.
[Cecil Smith] *The man with the notepad inclines his head to Marcus, then waits. Its not like he could whistle to pass the time. A low chuckle rumbles through his chest, and he shakes his head ruefully at Sinclair. A Russian curse catches his attention and he watches Nessa move with interest, eyes flickering over her features. He raises to his feet and approaches her, an eyebrow raised, pencil scratching over paper.* Young Lady. Excuse if I am wrong. You are Kin of Grandfather Thunder, yes?
[Boy] “N-Not bad.” He said to Marcus tentatively, still a little suspicious about the strange new Kin. “Wendy’s Good actually. I told you about–“
He pauses while Nessa slides through the room.
“I told you about our house, right? Things are coming along nicely. You should come by some time. We could use another pair of hands when it comes to repairs.”
[John Thornton] “It’s hard not to be when you wear a coat in warm weather…”
A joke? Save for the simple widening of his lips, not a smile at all, John’s voice belies neither sarcasm nor wit. Still… It was a funny thing to say.
Another swallow of scotch as Nessa approaches, before an idle a brow raises curiously toward her.
“Forget the fabric softener?”
[Sinclair] “Ooh!” she says loudly, and laughs, lifting her fist to bump against Thornton’s, if he’s obliging. “Give the man a prize for figuring out I was talking about him, too.”
[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *Marcus nods and smile to Boy.* “Yeah I’ll help you and Marriack out with that no problem.” *He looks over at Lessa.* “Nessa. Problems with the washing machine or the dryer?” *He says raising his chin up in her direction.*
[Maija] (arches brow)
[Marcus Schwarzkopf] ((Lessa = Nessa))
[Nessa] “Nyet. Not machinery. Ahh… sort of.. pen.. thing I left in. Is not pretty. ”
The older man approaches her; she is not as young as some in the room, in her mid twenties. Neither has she survived as long as he had. When he stops to write in front of her, right in front of her, curiosity abounds, and she finds herself leaning slightly forward to see what the hell he is writing.
“Correct on all points, sir. I am Agnessa Malikoff. ” She cuold ask why out loud, settles for a question in her stormy blue eyes instead.
A flick of the wrist shows the pen in question, or what is left of it. the cap is gone, and inside is a wicked looking (broken) blade. With wet threads snagged on the jagged edge.
[Boy] Boy frowns at the pen/blade curiously.
“That don’t look like any pen I’ve ever seen. Maybe…maybe we can fix it?”
He looked to Marcus when he says it, almost as if he was really addressing him.”
[Cecil Smith] mmmph. *He shakes his head at the ruined little weapon, frowning. He flips back a few pages, pointing to the page about him being “Cecil Smith” then he circles “Kin of Grandfather Thunder”. A cagey grin to Nessa as he leaves the notebok in view for when she gets around to reading it. Clearly a patient man.*
[John Thornton] John’s expression changes little, still, he raises a hand to oblige the fist bump with surprising speed… As though it were a gesture he’d seen frequently. Perhaps, when one spends so much time on the streets, one learns the vernacular as well as the useful.
“Detective. That’s why they pay me.”
Then, the hand again raises the tumbler to his lips, as he drains the scotch remaining in the glass in two swallows.
The flush on his cheeks deepening, as he sets the glass down slightly more forcefully than intended.
Turning to Nessa again, his brow raises curiously.
“What load was it?”
[Sinclair] Sinclair chuckles at John again, and simply sits for awhile, slowly drinking John’s scotch from the bottle.
[Nessa] “Was experiment.” She shrugs. “Never know when sharp objects not expected might be handy. I can replace blade, but.. maybe try something different instead? Ahh, was… delicates, John. Very colorful.”
If she spoke to BOY, that would.. be bad. Therefore, she speaks more in the direction of John. John is fine. Nessa is obedient. As she BENNNDSSSSS the rules. The Shadowlord kin smiles, cat licking the cream, as she breathes in and savors life for a moment.
Cecil finishes writing and she reads what he has put. “Ahh. Pleasure to meet you then, tribesman, and welcome. What brings you to Chicago? And.. may I ask how you knew I was Shadowlord? Interests me–I can’t tell kin apart that way myself. “
Here is a mystery, something new, someone new. The raven-headed woman studies Cecil openly, lets herself sense what might be sensed.
[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *Marcus nods.* “Okay. If there’s not ink in it then we don’t have to worry about it messing up the machine.” *He smiles a bit in sympathy.* “Sorry about your clothes Nessa. I hope it didn’t cut up too many.”
*He turns to the boy.* “Not the pen. It’s just a knife blade made to look like a pen. It looks pretty broke. Doubt anyone could fix it.”
[Cecil Smith] *Cecil nods and obliges, writing.* Your russian. It sounds native. I am not fluent but, know a little. Very colorful. I simply take educated guess. Long shot in dark. A pleasure. I am In the city for to assist in cleaning up of messes. *The syntax is wrong, grammer not right. But the point gets across, or so he hopes.*
[Boy] “Ohhhhhh.” He says a little dumbly. The shoes didn’t help.
Cecil seemed to be alright, according to everyone else’s opinion. He sniffed the air in his direction once, and excused himself.
Only he didn’t excuse himself. He just left and went in the direction of Room 10.
[John Thornton] At this point, John stands slowly, with the measured practicality of one accustomed to drinking well beyond his body’s ability to fight off the effects. Then, his hand grabbing the trench from the back of the chair and folding it uncaring over one arm, his free hand grabs the tumbler of water left over from the ice cubes and shifts it to the same arm as the trench.
“Enjoy the scotch… Nessa. Sinclair. Cecil.”
The others were faces without names for him, he simply nods to them in turn before starting toward the stairs. He avoided stumbling overly much, though upon gaining the stairwell, he takes the steps slowly, the banister creaking slightly as he leans heavily upon it.
[Nessa] As before, her head turns towards John some, as if to explain something to him directly. “Do not worry about my clothes. I can get more,” she threatens the fashionable stores of Chicago. Poor business people, unsuspecting.
She reads the message, then stops to reread something, as if faintly confused. However, either she doesn’t understand the grammar mistake, or chooses to ignore it, or perhaps misses it entirely.
“Is Native. I am from Moscow. Yourself? As for cleaning, well, is mess in washer number three now, and Jenny might want help with dishes downstairs,” for there is no time to tease Shadowlords like the present. ”
[Nessa] “Night John.” She studies her friend as he goes, and now the frown is genuine. Not good. He’s getting worse, perhaps?
[Sinclair] “Hey!” she says to John, as he gets up. “Wait up a sec.”
She hops to her feet, heading after the detective.
[Cecil Smith] *Cecil chuckles, taking a seat in the place John just vacated, eyes squinting at Nessa as he shakes his head in response to her teasing. He doesn’t take his eyes off her as he scrawls. * Terrible Little woman. I am German. East Berlin. And no. Your ruined laces and dishes remain your own to deal with. *He nods in the direction of John.* John?
[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *Marcus looks at Boy as he leaves, and to John as he leaves. Looking at Sinclair for a moment as she leaves. He says to Nessa* “Have a good night Nessa. Cecil.” *He says with a nod before heading in the direction of Maija’s room. He knocks on her door quietly three times.* “Maija. It’s Marcus. You busy?”
[John Thornton] Stopping several steps down the stairwell (though painfully few for any non-drunk), John’s gaze moves back up the stairwell to where the blond approaches. His hand remains on the banister, as if he trusted not his balance without it.
A curious brow raised…
[Maija] She had been trying to decide if she’ go back out there, if there was any reason to subject herself to the idea of being social with people she has nothing in common with, and truly isn’t sure she even wants to know. She peeled out of her uniform, and dumped it in the chair, opting for a pair of boxers (not hers – they barely cling to her bony hips, even though their pinned) and her clean tank top.
That’s about the time there’s a knock on the door. She runs her hand through her hair, and then stands to unlock the door, opening it a crack to see if it is just him, and seeing that it is, opens it wider so that he can come in. “Nah. Come in.”
[Nessa] Marcus says goodnight, and if she WERE To say good night to him, that woudl just get her in trouble wouldnt it?
Cause she’d be breaking a RULE.
But a casual flourish of the hand sort of like a wave, that ends up moving her kinky black hair out of her face, is surely not personal enough to be taken (much) amiss.
And so she continues her conversation, or oral/written examination, as Cecil likes. “John Thornton. Fenrir’s kin. He grieves. ” Cecil sits; she makes sure he has enough room.
“I have never been to Germany, and I am not– well. Not TOO terrible! You clean, then. What sort of messes?”
For there just might be a mess currently. She taps the broken, jagged pen against one palm, smooth side down, in time with the multitude of questions in her mind.
[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *Marcus opens the door coming in the room.* “Hey.” *He smiles.* “I haven’t got a chance to tell you I decided to stick around. I’ve been a little busy since I got back.” *pause* “How are you doing?” *He says standing in the doorway, leaving the door open.*
[Sinclair] Sinclair stops at the top of the stairs. She bends one leg at the knee, right foot against the inside of her left ankle. In the shorts she’s wearing, the lean musculature of her legs is unmistakable. In the faded orange t-shirt — which actually fits, fancy that — he and anyone else can see the subtle tone to her arms. She’s not much over five and a half feet tall, and he can see the tail ends of tattoos on her biceps, glints of metal in her ears and a weird shape pressing against the fabric of her left sleeve.
Her eyes are blue. Very, very pale, and strangely soft underneath all that heavy eye makeup. She cocks her head to the side, standing like a teenager, or a college freshman, or something; she’s that age, early twenties at most, where every woman somehow manages to be called beautiful. It helps that she actually… is.
Now that he’s held up a sec, she blinks, as though not quite sure what to do. So: “…you’re not driving, right?”
[Cecil Smith] Gorey, inconvenient messes. *Cecil gives Nessa a sharks smile, easing into his seat with a careful glance around. The top sheet of paper is rapidly filling with Cecil’s side of the conversation, laid between them now that they are alone enough for his comfort.* I Make things disappear, once they’ve been dealt with.
[John Thornton] The not-a-smile widens upon his deadpan expression again, as he considers her for a few moments without speaking. His head tilts slightly to the side, as he glances down the steps again.
“Worried about me?”
A few moments’ more consideration down the stairs. Then he shrugs.
“I had thought to call a cab… Need a lift?”
[Maija] She moves back into the room, bare feet making no sound on the floor as she settles to sit on the edge of the bed. She pulls her knees to her chest, her feet hooked on the edge of the mattress. He lingers in the doorway, and she pushes her hair back as he speaks.
“See that.” That he decided to stay. Her shoulder lifts into a slight shrug in reply to the question. She’s tired, doesn’t seem to be sleeping, seems to be working too much, something. There are dark circles under her eyes, and she seems to be hiding even in plain sight, disappearing in some vital way. “M’ok. Living here ain’t…” she stops, and then just lifts that shoulder a minute distance again. He knows how she feels about Garou, about Kin – he’s pieced it together during their interactions, he saw the reaction when the door was stuck and there was no way out…
Living here is hell.
Necessary, but hell.
“M’alright.” she says again.
[Nessa] Ahht hat sort of cleaning.
She cocks her head a little at him. “We hauled off number of bodies for disposal last night, from Magnificent Mile area. Marcus was there, John was there. Others too. How do you make things disappear? For is often, lately, things happening which require cleaning. And, wiht regards to last night, perhaps… there is still more to do. I go out tonight, to Listen to what is said.”
[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *Marcus nods to Maija.* “Okay. I just wanted to let you know I sorted a few things out, and I’ll be around. If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask.” *He smiles a bit.* “I’ll let you get some sleep. Until the next time Maija.” *He turns to leave.*
[Cecil Smith] *Cecil nods, flipping the page over and scrawling with a steady hand.* Just my luck. Missed the party. I would appreciate it if you’d keep an ear out. I am good at my job. As for how? A Magician keeps his secrets. Yes? *He gives a low rumbling chuckle and winks, bringing a hand up to rub his salt and pepper facial scruff.*
[Sinclair] She sucks ass when it comes to reading people. Sinclair looks at John’s smile almost warily, head tipping. Her eyes flicker not with concern but consideration, like she’s trying to decide between letting him go and lunging for his throat. It’s hard to imagine either of those options. There’s a strength to her, inherent not even in her body or her Rage but everything about her, and it’s not a kind strength, or a stoic one.
“You smell like my sister’s Tribe,” she says after a second, and it’s likely that anyone, even the most obtuse, would be able to see the slight bristling of her spine, the edginess the words, like her hackles are up. “Can’t just let you go off gettin’ decapitated or killin’ babies by goin’ around drivin’ while intoxicated.” Beat. “And I live here. So, uh…”
Sinclair fidgets. “No.”
And turns on one socked heel to get back over to the couch, and the scotch, as fast as her little toes can carry her.
[Maija] She shakes her head slightly. “Ain’t gonna sleep. Ya ain’t gotta go if ya ain’t wanna.”
More like can’t sleep. Between the noise, the rage, the Garou, the kin, her own sadness… She gestures toward the shelves. “Promised ya could borrow some books – yeh wanna pick somethin?”
[John Thornton] John watches the space where Sinclair had stood mere moments ago, his hand leaving the banister to scrub through the mop of brown hair… Before swiftly shooting back to the banister.
Then, with that overly careful pace, he makes his way further down the stairwell and into the restaurant below to call a cab.
((Fade John; Thanks for the Rp folks *wave*))
[Nessa] “A magician keeps his secrets– only if Shadowlords do not care to know them.” A slow, spreading smile. “Is good. I am staying here for now, while I look for new place. Is not too hard to find me. You give me number? I call if anything is needed, da?
And last night… is good to go see if anything was seen… Maybe I am paranoid.”
MAYBE??
Well.
“But was bad, and we were only seconds away, and is possible we missed something, or someone. Seek out word of anyone who heard anyting like. roaring. da? In the Magnificent Mile area. ” She names the interesction and alleyway, so that he can check into it.
[Sinclair] [Thank you!]
[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *Marcus comes back Maija’s room with a smile on his face, and in a pleasant voice.* “Okay. I can stay for a bit. Talk if you’d like.” *He comes into the room when she mentions the books.* “I would like to borrow some yes. Thank you.” *He touches a shelf, and wiggles it a bit.* “How they holding up? No problems?”
[Cecil Smith] *He nods, writing his number and finsihing his beer He writes one last message on the paper before standing and heading to the door.* I Will do this. Give my number to the lords. Good night.
[Nessa] “Da. I will. I will tell them you do windows, Cleaner.” Damned if her face isn’t perfectly serious. But then, she’s a professional, too.
[Sinclair] Walking back into the common room, Sinclair picks up both her MP3 player and the bottle of scotch, heading back to Room 8.
[Cecil Smith] *Cecil chuckles, narrowing his eyes at her and shaking his head, he points to his eyes then to her.. “I’m watching you girl” then heads silently down the stairs.*
[Sinclair] [Thanks for the RP, folks!]
[Cecil Smith] (wee! Adios!)
[Maija] He comes in, but leaves the door open, and she does not tense because of it, and even accepts the offer to the talk, “Yeah, alright.” though she’s never much for being talkative. She watches him tug on the shelf, and there’s a flicker of amusement briefly flipping through her eyes.
“Yeah, holding up good. Ain’t dumped my shit on th’floor yet.”
[Nessa] Nessa shakes her head, grinning, before she wanders back to the laundry room. “Why people think Shadowlord kin need watching is… silly.”
[Nessa] (night!)
[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *He turns and smiles.* “That’s good. I was hoping the screws would hold up.” *He looks underneath.* “I tried to get them firmly in the supports so it can hold the weight.” *He turns back around.* “You care if I have a seat?”
[Maija] She gestures to the chair with a slight lift of her shoulder. “Ya ain’t gotta ask – I ain’t gonna freak out or nuthin if ya sit down an make yaself comfortable or nuthin.”
There’s that brief flash of amusement, then… she asks quietly. “Ya seemed real pissed off at me when ya was here with th’ kids that night… ya still mad?”
[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *He sits down in the char.* “Did I? If I was I’m sorry it wasn’t directed at you.” *He looks down and chuckles.* “Honestly I can’t even remember what I was upset about if I was. It couldn’t been the moon phase.” *He shrugs.* “Or if you meant after… Yeah I sort. Well I moved out of here to stay with a kinfolk of mine, and… that whole situation with Rhian. Well she basically kicked me out of her place, and then left town. So that’s why I’m back here.”
[Maija] She watches him, carefully, as he explains, and she just nods, slightly. “Was when ya friend showed up, ya told me t’be polite. Like I ain’t never don nuthin to ya, or anyone else that’d seem like I ain’t always toein the line, ya know? An then ya ain’t said nuthin – and left. Figured ya wasn’t gun come back – an’ that it was somethin I did.”
Honesty.
She must be exhausted, to even have the guts to say it.
Then.. “wait, yeh back here? I ain’t know that, either… but I ain’t one t’snoop or nuthin.”
[Marcus Schwarzkopf] “I told you to be polite because I didn’t want you to say something… inadvertently and… well something happen that could’ve been avoided. It was probably a poor choice of words on my part, and I apologize for that. You didn’t do anything wrong, and I was glad for your assistance. Thank you again.” *He says politely.*
*He shrugs and exhales a bit, his eyes looking a little saddened but accepting.* “She left. Didn’t want me to go with her. And that’s all there is to it.” *He says about the kinfolk woman in question.*
[Maija] She snorts. “When do I ever talk at all when folks is around, Marcus? Hell, I ain’t hardly talk t’ya neither most days.” She waves it off though and reaches behind her to grab her blanket and pull it over her legs. As thin as she is, it’s no wonder that she’s perpetually cold, as the Brotherhood doesn’t skimp on air conditioning, and she’s got nothing that might even come close to insulation.
“Ain’t matter none. I jus’ thought I don pissed ya off. Glad I ain’t done it.” When he says that she left, and didn’t want him to go, she turns her head to the window to hide a flash of emotion she knows she can’t quite hide – something she’s unwilling to let be seen by anyone.
She still ain’t heard a word on William, or why he left, where he went, anything. She’s well and good used t’being left.
[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *He nods.* “I just didn’t want you to get hurt. Roxanne has a bit of temper, and she really knows how to handle herself. It was tense situation and I didn’t want it to escalate. But no you didn’t piss me off.”
*He looks at her, and licks his lips for a moment.* “They ever find your friend Will?”
[Maija] She closes her eyes, and doesn’t turn to look at him – she can’t. Not right now, not with the wounded expression, the pain so clear in her face, her eyes. She doesn’t show emotion. She learned so long ago that it only brings more pain, so she concentrates on something out there in the darkness.
A moment, two, than three before she can breathe again, and know her voice will be steady. She wipes her face clear of emotion, clear of the pain, and shakes her head, slightly. “Ain’t heard nuthin. Not like folks tell me shit anyway, but he ain’t been found. Like as not there ain’t nuthin to find.”
[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *He nods, and swallows a bit. And expression of empathic understanding of what it means to feel pain like that crosses his face.* “I’m very sorry. I wish there was something I could do for you.”
[Maija] “Jus seems like all I done since comin’ here is lose folks. Sometimes…”
She stops, and runs her hand over her face, and back through her hair, her shoulders straightening, slightly. “Ain’t like we was gonna be together forever or nothin’. I’ll be alright. Ain’t need nuthin’ or no one but me.”
Or something. She can face him again, and does, the emotional response carefully hidden away once more.
[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *He inhales, and looks at her.* “You should try and sleep. You look exhausted.” *He stands up from the chair.* “I’m gonna go to bed. It was good to speak with you again Maija.” *He says politely.*
[Maija] She shrugs slightly, tiredly. “Ain’t able t’sleep. Too much…” she gestures around, and just shakes her head slightly. “stuff.”
To much noise, too much rage, too much…
just too much.
“Yeah, alright. Night, Marcus.”
[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *He nods to her, but doesn’t really know what to say. It must be difficult her living her with all these Garou. He’s not no answer for that dilemma so he doesn’t say anything.
He walks out of the room, down the hall heading to his own room to get settled in for the night.*
[Maija] She unfolds, follows him to her door, and simply closes it behind him, thumbing the lock as she does so.
[Marcus Schwarzkopf] ((Thanks for the scene!))