AnneMarie | Pack and Kin

Her hair is cut boyishly short, her features strong, her makeup flawless. She is beautiful (though she would deny it) and striking figure, and the filth of the Downtown streets are better for her presense.

“What the fuck? Get off me!”

Frowning as he shook his leg again to dislodge the offensive wrapper. It was as he was cursing and shaking his leg that he felt the tickle of pack. Lifting his gaze to locate the direction it came from about the same time he saw Nora down the way. Jacket flapping open showing silver at his throat.

A simple shift in direction, and she begins to close the distance, still with the same, unhurried, purposeful stride.

“Daaaaammmnnnn! Ya go off and come back all done up. Did ya get your hair did too? Hold out your hands, got your nails did?”

Boy was Tristan missing it.

But her gaze dances with her amusement, and a whisper of wings across the Totem Link can be heard. And you have grown tall, Rotegar. Though you could use a haircut.

Snorting as the dark mass whipped across his eyes again. Attention shifting towards Nora as she grew closer to his one-sided seeming conversation.

“Ann, ya met Nora yet?”

Reaching out to touch Nora’s arm as she drew abreast of them.

However, she turns her gaze to Nora as she is halted by Kemp, pale gaze sweeping over this one, the purity of Fenrir rolling off of the kin as if in waves. A lift of her chin says hello. Eagle style. Otherwise, however, she remains silent.

…oh. the shock..

Nodded towards AnneMarie.

“She also hates it when I call her Ann, Annie, hey you or any other thing I call her. Since her name is AnneMarie, which is just too damned much to say at once for me. Anyway, part of the pack. Never says much, cause well, she can’t.”

Shrugging as he looked back to AM.

“Nora can do her own honors since she knows them better than me.”

They’ve gone their rounds, herself and Kemp, and gained something of an even footing just before she left. It seems that it has survived her absense as well. The more things change…

Looking back and forth between them before he started for the Cafe down the way. Wanting to avoid the little board or pad of writing doom that might come in to play.

Afterwards, (poor Kemp)she slides her other hand free, fingers holding losely the small notebook sized whiteboard and pen. Small, neat, easy to read letters are written on the slick surface, and it is turned for the kinfolk to read afterwards, automatically doubled via Totemphone speach for Kemp – she remembers how he hates to read. It may be safe to say she forgets very little about every packmember and their interactions.

Written+phoned: AnneMarie Hoch. Modi. Pleased to meet you. And he is correct, my name as given was Bitter Grace, then translated in whole to AnneMarie. I prefer the full first name. It is a wonder I have not beaten him yet.

And, then – she follows Kemp. You’re buying?

But she was going to have to put up with his mouth if she wanted a free meal. Raking one hand back through his hair as he headed down the sidewalk in an easy swagger. Leaving the board writing behind him. He absolutely hated that thing.

“I’m starving. Been hours since I ate and that was just a few burgers and some fries.”

She’s put up with worse.

Looking over his shoulder at her as he lead them towards the Cafe’. Even pausing to wait for them at one point outside the door as the wind whipped around them, bring a chill that tugged at clothing and hair alike.

To my home sept. They requested my aid to defend it against attack. They lost many, but the Caern remains.

And if there is a break in thought, a pause before the mention of loss, it is not expanded upon. However, he may notice she does not speak of Giselle, who left with her.

“Plenty has happened while you were gone. Not going to get into all that though. I’m sure some of the others filled ya in.”

Dragging his chair out to fold his long legs under the table on sitting after shrugging his jacket off to drape over the back of the seat.

Hyde mentioned some of it, yes.

Fingers lace easily in her lap, the press of another packmate nearby causing her to raise her head and look toward the door. Across the totem. Godi. We are at the Cafe. and the streetcorner named.

A last glance up and down the street and he crosses. Hopping up onto the side walk he opens the door to the cafe and steps in, ducking though the doorway. He’s pretty much the same as when any of them see him. Steel toed combat boots. Black cargo pants, a thick leather belt with two tongues on the buckel, buckskin shirt, recently mended from the explosion, forarm bracers, and the small hammer of thor necklace around his neck. His head has been recently shaved and he’s got his digital cammo boonie on over it. Pulled down low over his eyes.

Turning he glided though the diner towards them. Surprisingly graceful for a man of his size. Giving a nod up to the pack at the table.*

(I think so too -lol-)

She nods toward the waitress, but there is no smile, only the press and fire of rage under her skin, compounded by Hyde’s arrival as well. The skittish waitress takes the orders as fast as she can, as best she can, before scooting away once more.

A chin lift towards Nora, slight, as she watches Hyde, bemused. This one is quiet. Have the Eagles a kin that does not speak back, at long last?

AnneMarie here says you’re quiet.

*He looks to AM and shrugs* Got something going with Kemp…

Odd. Perhaps the kid has grown in more then just height.

*As for Moira, Hyde shrugged again* She’s… taking it Ok. You missed a scene eariler when she and I walked up on Nora and Kemp…. Noone screamed or cried or threw rocks… but I’d rather battle a Spiral any day.

So…. you still in shape or did your trip get you all flabby Hooch? *He grinned a bit to Nora* Hooch here just loooves kickin’ my ass.

For the other comment, however, perhaps another Eagle would show the strength by smacking Hyde, or instantly starting a throwdown. She, however, simply looks at him. I trained in preparation of gaining rank. Daily. If I could kick your ass before, I can devastate you now.

Only he would catch the underlying tease there. They’ve sparred for fun more then once – there is little more that the Modi loves.

Poor Nora, hearing only one side of the conversation. AnneMarie makes no move to solve that little problem either, leaving it up to Hyde to translate what he will, when he will, to spoken word for the benefit of the Kinfolk.

Her plate arrives, and she turns it until the burger is toward her. Then, she carefully uses the knife and fork to cut the burger in half, and then in half again. Only then does she pick up a piece and eat. Her manners are impecable for one of her birth, for one of the Eagles. Without seeing her in the midst of battle, it is difficult to see how she fits in with them at all.

So, what are your intentions with Kemp?

She watches Nora as she speaks, gathering the information, as well as nuances with each word.

She lifts her hand and catches the napkin, using it to wipe a bit of ketchup from the corner of her lips before placing it back on the table. And – surprise surprise, she remains silent.

*He stood and fished out some money and put it on the table* Yalls…. whatever is yalls. Just keep in mind he’s our packmate. ANd keep Moira in mind too….

*He nodded to AM* Catch ya later Hooch.

*He pulls out his boonie hat and unrolls it, sticking it on his head* Yeah, you too Nora.

*Turning then he heads for the door*

~I am not much for conversation, but I listen well. I do not know the full of the situation, but if you have need of an objective ear, I am here.~

~The question is, perhaps, how you intend to do that. Two hearts that wish the notice of the same third is bound to cause grief. I have not spoken much to Kemp – I am female, so he avoids me too – so I am unsure how he feels in this situation. And I am not supposed to meddle with such matters on my own, so my understanding is limited. Moira has loved him long. He has never given in. Perhaps that is as it was supposed to be. Either way – someone will end up hurting. There is little that can be done for that. All you can do is tred as carefully as possible. And be certain of yourself before taking action.~

~I was new once, within the Eagles. It took many months to be accepted, and still more to find my way. Hyde accepted me first, for the heritage we share. Decker, for my steadfast determination to make Eagle proud. Kemp – has never quite accepted me, for I am female. The day I was accepted by Eagle and received the ability to speak to those bound with golden feathers, He refused to look at me, or speak to me in any manner.

The Eagles are a close knit group. Acceptance creeps in so subtley that you will not know when it happens, it simply exists where it once did not. I imagine it is the same for Kin. One cannot go wrong in following their heart – you alone can decide if any collateral damage is worth the quest.~

~I know well the feeling of being an outsider. Many then most. Locked in silence, I learnt early to listen.~

There’s a pause, and then she nods. ~You had no interest that way – has that changed?~

~You can solve nothing if you spend all your time convincing yourself of lies.~

Some days, it is very hard to remember she is a Modi – she is proof that they are not all battles and blood.

~I missed my pack. It is good to feel them close by once more.~

It is not quite an answer, or rather only a partial one. Chicago holds many memories for the Modi – and not all of them are good. Her home sept is the same way, with quite a few, especially recent, of the bad variety.

~ I am Modi. I go where the war demands. ~

~My father refused to acknowledge me. I killed my mother with my birth. My grandmother raised me – it is her that I mourned after her death. The Eagles are the only family I have. To be back is in part a coming home, with all the pride and pain it brings.~

~As I cannot pretend to understand the life of a kin. By your blood you are ours to protect, and that is a duty none would shirk. I cannot help with matters of mating, other then to offer an ear as needed. However certain you may be of feelings, you are kinfolk, and there is a duty in that. Be certain you are prepared for any fall out before you make a final choice. There are more then you and Kemp who must live with each decision.~

~Not all Modi’s are brooding fighting machines. Though I could break you in one hand if necessary.~

No threat – it is much the way she teased Hyde.

~Whenever you have need of me, I will listen. I understand well how it is to be the outsider.~

~Thank you. I will keep that in mind. However, to business. As Modi, it is my job to assure myself that you are versed in defending yourself. There is a mission upcoming that you may be involved in, as I hear it. You will report to me for training so that I can hone what skills you may posess in hand to hand combat. There is a training room in the Kinhouse. We will make use of it. ~

~You are the daughter of a Modi. You cannot always rely upon a pretty face, and shapely form. I do hope you bruise easily. It makes it ever more amusing for me.~

Again, that hint of tease in the paleness of her gaze.

~Come. We will head there now. Perhaps later some Fenrir will kiss away the pain.~

And with that she stands to slip her coat on, letting it fall to settle against her shoulders as the kinfolk reads the proverbrial writing on the wall.

~No matter the circumstances, a Fenrir hides from nothing, nor dips their chin in defeat. War waits for none – and you are claimed by the Eagles for however long this battle lasts and you remain in Chicago. I would prefer you have a fighting chance, whether then be returned to your father in a box, John’s Daughter. I taught my… kin. I taught Moira. All bruises fade, but the knowledge of how to strike, and when, may save your life. As for kissed bruises – there are more fenrir then the Rotager. And it was a joke – as much as I am able.~

Once read, she lets her hand fall from the kinfolks chin, and swipes the board again, only then turning to lead the kinfolk from the cafe and into the night beyond it’s lighted interior.

But the threat of the rain would put a damper on his production. The Pander perched against the wall of a building, an open guitar case strewn out beside him with its tattered velvet innards expose to the cold, the faint glint of metal and a few crumbled bills scattered about like treasure.

The calloused tips of thick digits ran along the strings, plucking out a few random cords on the acoustic guitar. His head was bound down, covered mostly by a black beanie pulled low to cover most of the upper portion of his face. A three week’s growth of beard stubble graced the sharp lines of his jaw. He looks as if he’s been sleeping in the same clothing for a few weeks now, covered with the dust of the road.

“I can hear what you’re thinking,
All your doubts and fears,
And if you look in my eyes, in time you’ll find,
The reason I’m here.”

The words of a song, spilled from his lips, catching on the air to carry out to any pedestrian’s that care to stop. It manages to snare the attention, something in the voice, a deep baritone that holds a strong pitch and manages to lure the listener in.

She does not say the kinfolk will likely not be thankful after hitting the mat a few hundred times. Such things are better experienced, then spoken of.

She, as always, says nothing, simply lifts her chin in hello.

Chicago…

Nearly snorted out as his gaze swept back and forth. Knowing he’d get no verbal response from the Mute packmate but still asking just the same with a narrowed look.

“Whatchu two up to?”

It sounds like there is a twang to his voice, the tune of the song carries a certain feel of a little Country to it. Not quite Johnny Cash, but more towards a Mark Collie song, as he covers the tune. His head remains bent, never quite meeting the eyes of those that stop long enough to listen as he sang.

“…You know your days are numbered,
Count them one by one,
Like notches in the handle of an outlaw’s gun.
You can outrun the devil, if you try,
But you’ll never outrun the hands of time…”

Change drops into the velvet opening of the guitar case, his head bobs in a nod of appreciation to a woman that drops it in, suddenly pulled away by her boyfriend as she wanted to linger to listen to last bit of the song. His fingers dance across the cords, quickly, breaking into a instrumental chorus as he falls silent.

“What the fuck went on while I was gone?”

Lifting his arm to sniff his pit.

“I know I don’t stink and I didn’t fart either. What? Did I suddenly get uglier or something?”

I don’t think she is fond of my insistance she learn a bit of Self Defense. I even suggested that certain Fenrir may wish to kiss away the bruises. Perhaps she would rather learn… wrestling from you…

That quirk at the corner of her lips? Almost the beginning of an amused smirk.

“She is a female relation. Not one of us, not built to hold up like we can. Give her a fucking gun to use if she needs defense. Give her simple basics, not an ass kicking. Only thing ya learn from that is pain and resentment. Better yet, give her instructions to duck, tuck and run the hell away.”

Turning his gaze on Nora now.

“Ya don’t need to do or learn anything ya didn’t learn at home. Don’t be pushed, pressured or cornered. Trouble comes, scream your damned head off for attention and run like hell.”

The song ends on an abrupt note, the last chorus not even breached as something draws the Pander’s attention. His nostrils flare out to breath in the cold air, the different odors of bodies, washed and unwashed, tainted by the manufactured chemicals of perfumes and deodorant.

His head lifts up, the streetlight catching his eyes in a slight feral glow as it would a predator’s in the dark. It draws the sharp gasp of a woman that had lingered on the edge of the small circle of listeners. She quickly flushes when his attention turns onto her. When there is no more music to hold the sheep in thrall, they begin to awaken as if from a dream and something…

… tells them not to hang around this man any longer. It could be the flicker of that gleam in his eyes, or the rolling wave of heat that seem to wash from his aura, that leaves an electric-crackle sensation on the fine hairs of someone’s arm, or nape of the neck. The heat of rage…

With that, she starts to walk again. Let the Rotager deal with his problems on his own, then.

Another tug at the base of her spine, between her shoulderblades – this one unfamiliar. Pale gaze is drawn to Skadi down the way, and she pauses to watch her.

Jaw clenched tightly.

“I am sure Nora’s father taught her what he wanted her to know.”

He sets the guitar down to lean it up against the wall, attentions focused on the money in his case as he seems to be done performing for the night. Alone now, he doesn’t seem to acknowledge the people that go slightly out of their way to avoid him. But to some others, there is a slide of those eyes to the side, settling on the loitering form of Vorthsven.

*Lachlan’s movements seem to say “shows over” and now Vorth needs to pay attention… cause he might have been caught looking*

Hissing to get Skadi’s attention as he looked back towards his packmate.

“Whatcha think on this shit?”

Something stops her. Perhaps he is lucky it is his moon, and not her own. Instead – there is a very, very careful control as she pulls herself back, and straightens her shoulders, and lifts her chin. Only once she has regained control does she reply.

Lexi had a gun. It got her dead. You wish to arm your kin the same way, fine. As for Gisele, she is none of your business. And my name is AnneMarie. If you cannot wrap your tongue around it, some day you will wrap your tongue around my fist instead, Rotager.

And to to Skadi, she turns her attention. If you mean the prodical Modi, then yes. Calmness returned, so do her hands slide again into her pockets.

He takes another look over to Vorthsven to acknowledge him with a nod of his head in greeting, and then slides his eyes towards the group. Change rattles in his hands, lazily counted before it disappears into the pocket of his jeans. His eyes fall on the prettier females of the group, settling on Skadi first with an appreciation for blonds and then to Nora.

“Yeah.”

Just getting that out before AM’s move. He was bristling instantly. Gritting out, as he knew at least Skadi got all this across the link too.

“Many things worse I could call ya. Ya want to try hitting me, go ahead, but expect it back in spades. I really don’t give a shit to be honest. Teaching this girl to dive in there with her fists is a sure why to get her hurt, but hey, what the fuck do I know? I ain’t never seen it happen before, have I?”

*he walks up to Lachlan, to get a better feel, money in hand*

“Riiiaaaghtttt. That’s what it is. I want to run in and rescue her where I won’t be. And ya just want to wrestle around on a mat.”

Lifting his hands in the air.

“Well excuse the fuck out of me.”

Tall enough to easily see the curious Lachlan and Vorthsven at 6’3″. For a moment his gaze narrowed on one then the other before swinging back to Nora, muttering.

“Sorry, I know ya get one part of this fight and I know damned well you’re standing here. I’m a fucker, what can I say other than that in my defense? Hate me or whatever. Won’t be nothing new there.”

One arm shot out for the taller man, wrapping it across the expanse of his back to cup hand over shoulder and haul him up to Lachlan’s side, as if they were long-time buddies. He looks back to Vorthsven with a grin, which only widens when it drops back on Nora, catching the intensity of her piercing gaze.

“’Tis just me, mah friend, or is something most a’foul, you think?” A slight gesture of the group, trying to catch what he makes out of the conversations, only, and his attention seems diverted, always darting back to the females. “You like girls?”

When AnneMarie turns and snaps back toward Kemp, she finds Skadi standing shoulder to shoulder with the Rotagar. Skadi is faster than the both of them: instinctually faster, the ever-present gift of the spirits. Kemp seeks comment on this, and then that. Lachlan stares at her, drinking in the long legs in the well-fitted jeans, the lost in the sheepskin coat, the loose blonde hair, half of it trapped beneath the turned up collar.

The prodigal Modi. and …I will teach her nothing now.

Skadi says nothing; not over the totemlink, not physically in person. She just stares at AnneMarie, her expression closely held and unreadable.

“I ain’t never gon’ understand you people.” This, to Kemp, low, as his attention swings back to Nora. “Fuckin’ never.”

“When there is time for women… you must be a charm for them eh?”

*he may be a werewolf, but he still can’t hide his Minnesota accent… eyes never leaving Lachlan*

“You and me both. You and me both. Now ain’t the time to call out or nothing or I’d intro you two. Wait, let’s try the good ole Vulcan mind meld.”

Sending across the totem link.

~This here is Skadi and as ya can probably feel, pack. And gorgeous here is Skadi, once again, pack. Rest is up to ya if ya want to do more.~

“Yeah I know, we suck and I’m sorry.”

“When there’s time fer a woman, mah friend, the world’ll stand still and you’ll feel lost. It’ll hit’cha hard in jibblies, down south of your gut. When you feel that tightening… Ya’ll know… just know, she might be the one.”

He starts to laugh, a rakish sound, as his eyebrows wiggle at the young man. “Not from around here are ya?”

“No.”

“I mean, not from Chicago. What about you?”

“The fuck are you apologizin’ for, anyway?”

She doesn’t reply to the introduction Kemp offers; there is a subtle, supple acknowledgment shared across the bond and a briefly flicker of her intense gaze over AnneMarie’s retreating back.

“Me either…” waving a hand to the street, the cars, and the city in general, “From around here I mean.”

His eyes are back on the group, hands sifting through the usual routine of packing up the guitar, so in-grained into him, he could do it while asleep. It’s handle with a great care and then the case closes with a soft click of the latches.

Snickering with a wiggle of his brows as his mood shifted like quick-silver.

“Want me to sing it to ya?”

Manners. In an Eagle. The shock…. it could give someone a heartattack where they to contemplate it too much. Of course, she doesn’t turn back, her welcome clearly outlasted by two of the three – perhaps all three. She does not go far, however, slowing a bit as she nears Lachlan and Vorthsven, who both seemed interested in their conversation down the way – or partial conversation, as the case may be.

“What, you leaving? I was going to tell you, your song, it was… well, you know.”

Attention redirects back to Vorthsven, watching him with raised eyebrows as he coughs. “What of mah song?” His eyes narrow, glistening with a feral gleam as they caught the light, ready to take offense if the right words weren’t spoken with care. He shakes his head, flicking his eyes back to the oncoming Modi, the silent one, and nods up to her.

He was just a guy, to quote another, and this was just a night like any other that found him on the streets with a wheezing dog, both as past their used by dates as the other, cigarette in hand and leash in the other, with a pair of slightly bent glasses perched on his nose.

Renko halted, body strung taunt, legs trembling and a growl resonated from the canine’s body. He barked, backed up in preparation to charge, and with the sound of voices carrying toward him – peed on Hunter’s boot.

“I cannot believe you just did that.” The dog panted up at the Detective, tongue lolling out and shook himself off in satisfaction as the Bone Gnawer kin grimaced and stuck his cigarette in his mouth, shaking off a boot.

Snickering as his humor slowly returned. Adding after a second’s thought.

“Ya know that trip we talked about? The run to the woods? When we get time I could use it.”

*too much… he has seen where this sorta of madness gets when it gets going*

“Just that I was listening… haven’t made my mind up about it. Does it matter?”

*edges back a bit catching the Lachlan glance wondering if there is something else happening that he isn’t reading into*

A car flashes down the street, smearing them all with the brilliant, blinding flare of its headlights, casting the lot of them in start relief. Skadi tenses, her features breaking into a neutral mien as she squints against the glkare, studying the frame of the vehicle as it passes.

Nothing.

And the moment passes, the legacy of the headlights still spotty across her field of vision. “Shit,” Skadi elbows Kemp in the ribs, and lifts her chin down the street, where Hunter stands with his barking, pissing dog. ” – you didn’t steal no one’s bone, didja?”

*he sniffs and says almost in a whisper*

“Anyone know what the moon’s doing tonight?

“Ya don’t have to stay here if ya don’t want. Ain’t gonna force ya to do nothing or hold ya. Free world, free choice.”

Grunting when Skadi elbowed him.

“What? Naw, I got a bone alright but it ain’t his. Wanna see?.”

Tightening his muscles for the next elbowing as he wiggled his brows, egging her on.

His head drops down, voice lifting up as he broke out into a line of a song, his gaze unfocused for several seconds until the pupils almost dilate. He blinks, running a hand over his eyes as he turns to stand, one hand snatching up the strap of the guitar case, sliding it over his head.

He looks up between Annemarie and then back to Vorthsven, “I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.” He cuts another glance over to the woman, starting to grin. “The strong silent type, I like that in mah women. It’s usually better to save all the screaming for the bedroom.”

With a chuckle etched on his lips, his eyes flick away to the passing car that makes him squint when headlights strike his face, back to the two others that had remained, the antics of the taller male drawn his attention and then back to the slight blond he apologizes to. His chest lifts with a sudden indrawn breath, before letting it all roll out in a fine, warm mist.

There are many here that she does not know, but that are known. Perhaps she assumes these are some of the same. Perhaps not. Either way, she walks on, unless stopped.

They don’t spar; when they fight: it’s for real and it’s for keeps.
”
“Why doncha show her,” the Modi nods at Nora. ” – see if she knows what ta do with it, hmmm?”

*relaxing a bit, maybe he’s wrong, being in a city like Chicago, trying to sense just who is tainted a little from those that roll in it is almost pointless. He wasn’t looking for People, just a meal and maybe a lead on… the thought catches him, damn it he forgot again if only for these minutes*

Turning with a wiggle of his brows at Nora while rubbing his flank.

“Ya don’t want me to show ya, do ya?”

Snickering as he cocked his head towards Skadi.

“Cause she is one scary bone!”

Dancing away as he said that one.

His head swings away to watch Annemarie, pondering something, he turns to face Vorthsven, “If’ll ya ‘cuse me. Good night.”

With that, Lachlan steps away from the wall, waiting until Nora has passed by him and begins to fall in step behind the blond. His nostrils flaring as his slow gait seems to carry him several paces behind the kinfolk and he’s heading in the same direction as Annemarie, leaving, or following, however one wants to perceive it.

Snickered to Skadi as Nora headed off. Waving to her as he turned his attention back to Skadi again.

“I’m hungry and irritable. I know something went down while I was gone. Just ain’t sure what, but I’ll find out sooner or later, then deal with it. Meantime, about those woods.”

Skadi’s money’d be on Poo-Poo, but it’s a close thing.

The Rotagar’s attention returns to Skadi; however, the Modi’s attention is outflung, down the dark street, narrowed on the pools of light and oceans of darkness through which all these many people walk.

“We’ll go, an’ soon.” Skadi replies, sobering. “Afore then, that girl – ” her head dips in Nora’s direction. “why doncha walk her home?”

She steps to the side, conveniently near a wall, which she turns her back too, watching the walk, and street before her. Which also, conveniently, allows her to watch the oncoming group.

*just give him a lead, she’s probably getting in a car near here… you’re wrong… you’re wrong*

He didn’t question the sudden seriousness from Skadi. He felt it all along his nerve endings. And in the next moment he was breaking off to jog past the following Lachlan in no time at all. Infact, he made sure he bumped against him as he passed to catch up with Nora.

He exhales, and its idle notice he pays Kemp and his partner, the flash-flutter of rage registers as they grow closer but it’s a sensation he’s grown accustomed to. Merely a static charge that dissipates as surely as it builds.

It could be as simple as she does not like those she does not know walking behind her. Or she wants to watch the cloudcovered sky. Who knows – she certainly gives away nothing with her gaze.

“Come on, I wanna see ya safe somewhere. Your choice where.”

Adding in a husky whisper against her ear with a flick of his tongue and gentle tug of lips to her lobe.

“I wan’t bite. Much.”

He merely flashes an upturned glance to Kemp and says nothing, not even an apology. He turns to watch Nora, concentrate on the fine lines of her body and the way it moves when she walked. Her breeding tickling at his nose as he breathes in deeply. His eyes darken, clouded by some unreadable emotion, that has him pondering a thought, almost opening his mouth to say something to her, but his wit fails him.

Instead, he focused on Annemarie, pushing his gait to move faster on the pavement, skirting around Nora as his elbow brushes against her arm, on the side not flanked by Kemp. He slows down when he reaches the quiet Modi.

Waiting.

*maybe he watches too closely but he pauses too long on Annemarie, looking at her looking for something*

“I’m already on it.”

Lachlan draws to a stop, three feet from where Annemarie stands. His head swivels back on his neck to stare directly at Kemp when that growl of a warning issues out. His head tilted up, nostrils flaring out his muscles drawn tightly in the line of his jaw.

He flicks his eyes to Nora, offers her a wide grin, flashing perfectly white teeth at her and dips his head to her in farewell. His attention returns to Annemarie, waiting until the pair has dispersed further down the sidewalk, out of earshot as he faces the Modi.

“Do you like stories, Silent One?” his hand rifles through the pocket of his coat, pulling something out, “I have something here… it may strike your interest.”

She does not feel like mirth now.

Instead, then, she studies Lachlan. A brow lifts, slight. The corner of her lips twist into that barely there smirk. Her pale gaze drops to where he digs for something, then up to watch his mouth move again. It could be said that her continued waiting is curiosity. But then again, she’d never tell – though her gaze does drop again to whatever he pulls from his pocket, a hand sliding from her coat to reach for it.

“Shit, if anyone can handle herself, it’s Anne. Remember this is the woman that wanted to teach ya how to fight while beating your ass in the process of teaching. Now come on.”

Taking her hand with a tug and wiggle of his brows.

“Ya wanted to talk to me and I can’t wait for ya to whisper whatcha want me to do to ya in my ear. I want to taste your mouth again and feel your ass…ets…”

Another wiggle of his brows as he pulled her along.

“The eyes can say so much more than the mouth, Fräulein.”

From the corners of his eyes, his attention strays to the pair, his ears caught some tail end of Nora’s words and he appears amused by this as he watched them leave.

A nod. Understanding.

She offers the pendant back to him then, and pulls her other hand free from her pocket. Held in her hand, the small whiteboard, and a pen. Once he has taken the pendant back again, she writes. Her handwriting is neat, precise, and easily read when she turns it back to him.

~I am AnneMarie Hoch. You are?~

Taking advantage of those lips as she lifted her face towards his. Gently plucking her lips with his own before pressing his tongue in for a an exploring kiss. In the next moment lifting his head with a tug to her hand.

“Come on, show me your place.”

He opens his eyes in time to see her begin to scrawl across the whiteboard, his assumptions correct about this one. Eyebrows lift up in a bit of surprise, but he flashes a sly grin.

“Lach—“ the grin suddenly melts from his face, Annemarie can see a change in his demeanor. The frame of his body tightening with great tension as he bows his head, nostrils flaring and there is that familiar, yet far off look in his eyes. Like he wasn’t all there at that moment.

“I’m sorry, there is… trouble and I am needed elsewhere. Can we… speak soon, if I live to return?”

Though if he declines, she simply nods. They will… speak. soon.

A flare for dramatics this one had… “Godspeed, lady.”

And with a turn on his boot heels, the figure of the musician becomes fleeting, crossing the street and heading in a direction that takes him North and outside the city limits.

*he starts off quickly and lies almost non-chalantly*

Excuse me… I think he gave you something that’s mine.

*sorta gestures with his hand to his neck and then shrugs*

Didn’t he give it to you?

~You will have to do better then that.~

No seriously, I thought my buddy was just kidding when he said he was going to make me talk to you ladies tonight… didn’t think he’d pull this…

…let me just see it.

~If it were yours, you would describe it, rather then demand to see it.~

And she turns, and begins to walk away.

*he reaches to tap her gently on the shoulder…*

I just need to see, it’s very important. It looks silver but it’s not. Not even valuable to you I’m sure.

((roll Persuasion Gift should I? ))

He touches her. (I just need to..) She spins, and grabs his hand, and strong arms him into the wall. Not enough to hurt, but enough to get his attention. Pale gaze flashs as she glares at him, the heat of rage pounding at her temples, under her skin. It’s been a long night. She’s already pissed – and the bemusement at Lachlans comments gone with the audacity of someone. touching. her.

He’d better talk. And fast.

((if you want I’ll roll it – but that would risk her actually hurting him. heh. She just wants to get his attention.))

“Hey! No need for… I was only trying to watch out for you. Not that you need it… oh damn it. Look I’m hungry, and tired, and that guy… ”

*he goes silent staring at her*

She backs off, and steps away, straightening her coat and smoothing her clothing against her skin. Her chin lifts, and she waits for him to finish his sentense.

I am done pretending. I have heard that Chicago could be made into a welcoming place. Given time and the right people.

*pulling out his own glyph laden totem, noticeably the Fang house emblem having been removed*

~If you find the right people, be sure to let me know.~

And with that read, she swipes the board across a thigh, tucks it into her pocket, turns and walks away.

((No worries. *g* I vote sleep – and now they’ll have a place to start upon next meeting.))

*he snuffs… watches he go… and thinks to himself*

“Been a long pathetic day.”

((reference to intro story *L*))