Place :Odeon - Lobby

Odeon - Lobby(#4049RJ)

The Odeon's lobby is testament to a faded and perverted glory. The deep crimson carpet is thick in places but in others stubbly as velveteen, and the rich pattern of tangling flowers is everywhere marred by dark stains. The walls are clothed in kingly purple tatters of wallpaper, and covered with faded posters featuring women and men in various states of undress, posing with various degrees of tastelessness, and screaming out titles like "Male Service", "Bang Bang: a Sexual Explosion", and "A Slip of Her Tongue" in garish lettering. There's no light in the room but what comes in from the street, and during the day the actresses look grey and ghoulish, and the bright reds and purples of the room faded and dusky; and at night, the place might as well be covered in thick black paint.
Immediately in front of the entrance is dull matte turnstyle which no longer turns, where once tickets were taken. To the right are a pair of doors which some joker has labelled "Pimps" and "Hos" with red spraypaint: these are the washrooms. To the left are a pair of doorways which lack actual doors, and opposite is a grand set of boarded doors which lead into the theatre proper.

It's a sunny day, warmer than it's been, warm enough that the streets aren't emptied of people. It's late afternoon and the air is bright and fragile. It blots out the neon lights that normally spill red into the dark grey streets, but it still hangs heavy with a lingering smog that sticks to the walls of one's lungs. The street on which you'll find the Odeon is well past its glory days, the windows are broken and the inhabitants mill about with either a senseless drudgery or a fierce emptiness. The few businesses still around here are faded and sputtering, almost lifeless, except for the adult videostore directly opposite, which flashes weakly XXX in muted red. The Odeon itself is easy to pick out, the marquee of the old theatre still proudly shouting its name. There's a mannequin in the ticket booth in front of the doors, its arms removed, male and female genitals drawn on in thick black marker.

Emma walks along with her new found friend. "It's just up here a bit, but ya gotta be careful. Ya know, the don't get caught going in, and make sure Olga don't blow your face off kinda stuff. She's nice though- you'll like her." That said, she makes her way to the area which is used as a door, knocking a bit and giving out a soft, but audible, "Hey it's me, Em," as she pushes in.

"Blow my face off?" KL says quietly, matching Emma's tone as she follows her through the door. Once inside, she stops almost immediately and looks around, face schooled into a 'could care less' expression, but eyes bright with interest.


At a little over five foot tall and with a slim build, KL is hardly awe-inspiring on first sight. She appears to be around seventeen years old and still carries a teenager's air of disenchantment and irritation. 
Her mid-length mousy-brown hair is brushed back out of her eyes and behind her ears. It's not exactly styled, as it appears to have been hacked at without any hint of hairdressing expertise, but it's at least had contact with a brush at some point recently. She would be quite attractive - in particular she has a very cute, upturned, nose - were it not for the sullen and aggressive set of her mouth and the hostility of her gaze. Her hazelnut eyes look out with disappointment and poorly hidden anger, as if the world were a holiday villa that didn't match the travel agent's description. Her skin is oddly pale, and on her right shoulder-blade a two-inch-square tattoo of a winged horse visible. Physically, she's well proportioned, and her bare arms show a tight musculature that speaks of regular exercise.
She's got a habit of slouching and of leaning up against any available support. When she forgets to slouch, however, she moves with a surprising degree of grace and compact poise. 
She is wearing a faded and beaten up pair of blue jeans that are just a little too large for her, and have holes in the knees, a pair of worn combat boots and a faded red tank top with "And your little doggy too!" emblazoned across the front. The tank top has a badly-repaired tear across the chest, causing the word "little" to be have its second "t" deformed. 

Inside it's dark and musty, the smell dark and organic. As soon as the door opens there's a harsh barking sound from within the bowels of the theatre, but it's muted, like it's coming from beyond a heavy door, or from a great distance. It's raucous though, more dogs than one back there, egging each other on. A couple seconds after, a bit louder but not quite as muddy, there's a rough greeting of "Hey, Em." Olga herself soon follows it, stepping casually out of the office door just to the side, sour-faced but for a cautious grin that doesn't seem to fit in with the rest of her face. She pulls off a 'kerchief with one hand and with the other she tucks a dull-chrome gun into the ragged heap of clothing she wears. "Who's y'r friend?"

Emma takes a step or two into the darkness of the front lobby, sticking her hands in her jeans pockets, trying to make KL feel easy without actually saying anything to her. "Hey Olga," she greets the older Gnawer with a smirk at the gun and at the way she pulls off her hat. "This's KL. She's new in town."


Olga is tall, strong, and pale. Her face is long, her nose protrudes, and her shoulders are hunched up, making her look a little like a bird trying to warm itself in the cold. She is better dressed than one might expect from her poverty: her clothes are trim and well-constructed, and though far from fashionable, far, also, from tatters. She prefers layers of clothing, wearing as much as possible short of sweltering. Her fine blonde hair is always tucked neatly under something, be it a hat or a cleverly tied 'kerchief. Olga has in fact so managed her wardrobe that she looks more like one of the faux homeless, a rich kid in dirty boots and patched jeans, than a real street person; with the difference that Olga wouldn't be caught dead in dirty boots. She wears a long, stiff, green army coat, which while presumably quite warm, doesn't suit her in the least. She's almost always seen with one arm thrust up around a shoulder, clutching the mouth of her heavy orange bag (look Olga's bag). Olga is in her early twenties.

"Heya." KL says, shuffling a little further into the room. She folds her arms across her chest and looks the Gnawer up and down. "I'm kinda new, anyway. I was here a while back, but didn't stay for long. Visited the old church a couple of times." The last sentence ends on a rising note of enquiry.

Olga's sour face displays a different taste now, bitterness, though she doesn't seem to foist it off on the one who brought up old bad news, not too much at least. "Must've been ages ago," the woman says, turning aside when the girl looks her up and down, moving towards the central turnstile, where a fluorescent orange garbage bag, overstuffed, reflects what little light gets into the room. "Church doesn' stand anymore. It's before my time." She glances once at the back double-doors, dark and bolted, which lead into the theatre proper and behind which the dogs bark loudly, and then she crouches over the bag, beginning to root around inside.

Emma nods her head to Olga, "Before you or me were here. Yah. Uh anyway, we we're hoping you could get a hold of Helen, seeing as KL could use talking to her."

"Yeah. I've tried out at the Greek House a couple of times, but no-one's been in." KL says, turning her head to track Olga's movement to the bag. "Could do with talking to her. Letting her know I'm back."

Olga finally yanks out what she'd been looking for, a candle shoved into the lid of a plastic soda cup, where the straw usually goes, to make a rather trashy makeshift candleholder. There's a snap and a spark and the thing's soon lit, throwing a bit more light around the dank room, mixing with the red coming in from outside as the sun sinks underground. "Yeah?" she asks, shuffling back over towards the two younger Garou and reaching out her arm, handing the cup and candle over to Kathryn-Laura. "Yeah, Hel's the Fury Elder. Need to talk to her about chiminage I guess, if you're lookin' to set up here again." There's curiosity in the statement, though it doesn't quite qualify as a question, and she ducks her head and twists it to the side, staring at the Fury curiously. "Can probably find 'er for you. Got a proper introduction on you, kid?"

"That's about it, yeah," KL says, a slightly sarcastic note creeping into her voice. "And yeah, I can do you a proper introduction. I'm Kathryn-Laura Joanne Cole, Cliath Full-Moon of the Black Furies, rited Escapes-From-Money." Each syllable of her introduction is slightly over-enunciated, consciously formal. She folds her arms across her chest and cocks her head on one side, at the end, staring at Olga.

Emma chuckles a little, "She's a real spitfire, huh Olga?" The Get finds a nearby crate, setting down on it cautiously to make sure it doesn't bust out from under her. "Wicked fast jab too."

Olga says a not particularly grateful "Thanks," as she straightens her head. "Olga, Cliath Theurge and Gnawer Elder and Grand Duchess. Fat-Ripper to the Garou, and member of Griphus, a pack devoted to Chimera, claiming turf on Riverfront Drive." Her own introduction is dull as a untreated metal. She glances over at Emma and agrees with an equally dull "Yeah." The Gnawer then retreats to the turnstile again, getting up on top of it awkwardly like a seat, like a throne from which she regards the other two. She glances at Emma for a second, and then finally smiles, almost a smirk, displaying teeth the colour of weak tea which flicker in the candlelight. "You know the riverfront district, where all the tourists hang out, all cobblestone streets? That's our pack's, me and Helen's and Layne's. If she's not at the Fury house, she'd be there likely as anywhere."

KL nods slowly. "Right. Well, I'll try and find her at some point then." She unfolds her arms and looks down at her hands for a moment, then shakes her head. She looks over to Emma, a slightly helpless and confused expression on her face.

Emma grunts, "Olga, why you gotta scare all the new folks into thinking you're such an old nag? C'mon, can you be a little helpful maybe?" She says this all in good fun, and easy tone. "Olga'll tell Helen you're here and looking to get a hold of her KL. Right Olga?"

Olga's head flops from one shoulder to the other, rather like a rag doll's when it's shaken, and she winces at Emma as the Ahroun teases her, plaintively, like Emma never lets her have any fun. "'Cause then next time they come they might bring food," Olga says, a serious grump in her voice, looking at Emma with a puckering of her thin lips. "Yeah yeah," she concedes, lifting one arm to scratch casually at her belly. "I'll tell Hel. I was gonna anyway."

"Yeah, well, the only food I've got right now is scrounged from Emma," KL says, relaxing in her stance. The corners of her mouth twitch into a grin, "Well, apart from some rather rotten half-finished chicken I found in a dumpster." She glances back to Emma, "Hey, at least this time I didn't end up thumping anyone."

Emma chuckles, "Yah she came to the Stone this morning and I thought I let in the Hills Brothers cabbage farm." She rocks on the crate a bit, "So how's things going for Olga land?"

Olga's face sets into a tight grimace at Kathryn-Laura's answer, like she's perhaps regretting now her earlier standoffish welcome and isn't too happy about it. She makes a grumbling sound from between pursed lips as she reaches down into her bag again, groping around in the dark like she knows exactly where what she wants is, lunging in and coming up with a tuna fish sandwich, vacu-wrapped in plastic, the kind sold at convenience stores, which she tosses K-L's way. "They aren't," the Elder mutters back to Emma, slightly sullenly. "Just those Brothers of yours. 'S all that's on my plate right now." The barking meanwhile, in the theatre behind her, as died down, at least a little. "Hey," Olga says to Kathryn-Laura, curious but cautious. "What do y' think of mules, eh? Of Metis."

KL blinks a couple of times and shifts from foot to foot. She speaks slowly, as if thinking about this for the first time. "I think that it's wrong to blame people for what their parents did, or who their parents are. I understand why the litany is what it is, at least most of that bit, I think. I...the Black Furies have a reputation for...well, you know. But actual metis Garou are like...people." There's wisdom for you. And orginality. She looks nervous as she waits for a reaction.

Emma gets quiet now as the topic of mules is brought up. She hmms thoughtfully and watches the interaction between the two with interest. "You got a notch up in Olga's book there with that one."

If so, the Gnawer doesn't immediately show it, Olga's face remains rather blank, the answer brings no softness to her hooked, hawkish nose. "Wasn' an idle question," she tells Emma, with a twist of her mouth, letting her voice lilt a little for her friend. It's still less confrontational when she addresses K-L again, straightening her back. "We got a kid in the back," she tells her, with a jerk of her head and a bob of her chin. "Say hi Squeaks," she calls out loudly towards the door, prompting a high, sharp ~Hi hi!~ which seems to pierce straight through the theatre soundproofing as soon as permission is given, like it'd been waiting there all that time, listening to the three out here. The voice is juvenile, high-pitched and squeaky and broken, like a mouse's complaint at being scraped over a cheese grater. ~Whozzat?!~ it demands, ~Whozzat?~ "Shush back up, now, Squeaks," Olga enjoins the girl, voice softening again, an edge of concern finally entering it, mixed with a very hollow sadness. The monster on the other side of the wall obeys as Olga looks back to K-L, still curious, still cautious, and she leans forward. "Tha's Squeaks," she reveals to the girl. "She's not yet two years old. Anytime you find y'rself hungry, want to earn some food, come on by and look after her for a couple of hours, you'll get a meal's worth out of it. We don't got much, but we'll look after those 'at got less."

KL shrugs, a sloppy, careless gesture. "Look, I'm not much good at childcare, but if you need someone to come and look after her, I'll do it. But not because you'd feed me." She blinks a couple of times. "Um...was her mother...?" The question kind of trails off, and she looks from Olga to Emma and back again.

Emma just sits there, looking rather uncomfortable about the whole mule thing. She keeps her mouth shut and rocks on the crate a bit more.

Olga stares at K-L, her eyes blank, nothing showing in them but a strange sort of obstinacy, of dullness. She glances over at Emma, a quick smile pulling the gloom momentarily off her face. She glances back at K-L as Emma rises to go, and explains in all apparent seriousness, though the darkness makes her face a flickering mask, "Is the mother... Emma?" she completes the question, when Kathryn-Laura's eyes travel however innocently to the Fenrir. "Yeah. But don' let it out. It's a secret."

"Emma?" KL says, incredulous. She turns to the sitting girl, arms apart. "I thought...Renee...But why..." There's a long pause, as the wheels turn very slowly in KL's head. "Wait a moment." She turns back to Olga. "Pull the other one, it has bells on."

Emma glares at Olga, "Real funny, but she's been briefed on the whole thing already Olga. And if she hadn't, and took offense, and slugged me, I woulda been mad at you!" She smiles though at the girls response.

Olga's now wearing a wide madman's grin, she put it on as soon as her ruse was discovered. "Oh, Em," she says, in mock disappointment, perhaps to further rag on the girl, perhaps to distract the two's attention from herself and redirect it at each other. "Scared of a Fury? What would Signe think, eh?" Her tone levels a little as she glances back at Kathryn-Laura, as she asks plainly, "Who told you?"

"She did." KL says, with a nod at Emma. "I knew Renee when I was here before. She was kinda cool to me, so the offer of any help I can give stands. And I don't think she's scared of me." She turns her head to look at Emma. "Are you?"

Emma looks up with some disbelief. "No way, why should I be?" She huffs, "And yah, she asked about some old names and I told her. Don't worry Olga, I didn't make nothing up, just said the plain old truth."

Olga nods her head a time or two, small understanding movements, and she looks at Emma with a faint grin that says it was all, ultimately, a bad joke. "Yeah, Renee's," she confirms, bluntly. "She's gone. Kid's left. We're lookin' after her fine. Got an old Fostern doing it. Too old for much else, but just right for seein' to a baby mule."

KL's arms go back across her chest. "Right. Fair enough. Forget I offered." KL says, a snap to her voice. "I'm sure you're bringing it up real well." Delivered with sarcasm, that's at least an attempt to be cutting. She pauses, and shakes her head. "Sorry. Uncalled for. I'm just...y'know...trying to make my way. And all I really am is a fucking point-and-click Ahroun."

Emma frowns a bit, then shrugs, "Hey, don't shoot yourself over it KL, Olga can take a bit of lip. She's dealt with me since cubhood after all." Olga gets a little look too, maybe even one that has hints of apology in there.

Olga licks her lips and looks at K-L consideringly, like she's wondering whether she should think anything of the comment, or dismiss it. Emma's comment tips the scales and brings and pulls a small, brittle smile to her face, almost against her will. "Look," the Theurge says to K-L, then, "you want to help with Squeaks, thanks for the help. We'll be grateful. You sayin' `I'll help if you _need_ it` I say fine, we don't. I'll never have it said we can' take care of ourselves. I'm as willing to take a helpin' hand as the next Gnawer but I'm not gonna pretend I can't survive without it. Tha's all. You want to take care of the kid, hell yeah. Give 'er a go." She smiles again, more genuinely now, but restrained by an uncertainty that lingers there. She adds then, lowering her chin a little so that she has to raise her eyes to the girl, pre-emptive censure in them, "When Luna's gearin' up or dying down. Kid can make _me_ want to kill 'er sometimes."

KL stands silent for a moment, brow furrowed, lips mouthing the words the Gnawer has just said. "I'm not sure I understand that, entirely," she says, "but I get the general idea. Yeah, I'll help with the kid, if I can." She unfolds her arms and lets them drop to her sides. "I haven't met many metis cubs, certainly not that young."

Emma looks a bit awkwardly, then glances to Olga, "You're gonna show her, aren't you?" The young Ahroun looks as if she is getting ready to get up and leave again. She may not be afraid of a Fury, but that metis will send her running.

Olga rubs underneath her jaw with a dirty hand as K-L mouths her words back at her. "Talkin' too fast again, eh?" she mumbles, more to herself than either of the others. She offers K-L, for the first time, a genuine smile, slightly apologetic, and she takes a step back. She looks at Emma for a long second or two, and she takes a step back, asif in answer, but it halts there and she goes no further towards the theatre doors. She looks at K-L then expectantly, like she's waiting for her to give Emma an answer, delegating the decision.

KL pauses and winces slightly. "If you're going to, go on." There's a note of indecision in her voice, and she keeps shooting Emma sidelong glances. "Ok." she says, more definitely, shifting her feet apart and moving her weight forward onto the balls of her toes.

Emma grits her teeth and winces at the shoulders, moving from the crate, to the turnstyle. Something a bit off the ground and hopefully out of the things attention.

Olga nods her head towards the opposite door, the one leading out onto the street, and she instructs KL, since Emma doesn't seem to be willing to budge from her spot, "Go on and make sure that's locked, 'nd then go stand in front of the office." It's the `office` from which all the light in the lobby that isn't cast by the one sad candle streams, as it's the office that holds the place's only window, the glass completely broken out. Then the Gnawer moves towards the theatre, her form rising as she does, like bread bubbling up in the oven, until she's in her heavy, gruff Glabro, and able to use a raspy wheezy version of the Mother Tongue. ~Squeaks,~ she says to the door. ~Make sure the dogs are back, honey. Going to let you out into the front for a little while.~

KL does as she's instructed, not only checking the lock is home but shaking the door to make sure it's secure. Having satisfied herself that it is, she goes and stands in front of the office. Her right foot moves so that her feet are shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, and her hands are held in front of her. "Done!" she calls.


Born in late April of 2003, Squeaks-Like-A-Rat is small for her age, standing no more then three and a half feet tall. The mule's body is covered with thick grey fur, while black guard hairs form a saddle across her back and a mask on her face. Squeaks' eyes are a deep golden-brown and the pup's ears form two neat triangles, which swivel this way and that. The small Mule's deformity is hard to miss; instead of a normal tail, a long rats tail extends behind the cub. Hairless and far too long, the tail impedes the young Garou's movements and draws heat away from her body.

The theatre door opens and closes soon after, and the reason for all the preparation seems dubious, as slinking out of the darkness beyond the lobby comes a mid-sized beast, bigger than any dog but smaller than a pony, and it seems to be as uncertain about being out here as Emma is about it being out here. It moves on three legs so it looks almost like it has a limp, and it sniffs its ratty little nose, and carries behind it one hand its rat's tail so that it doesn't slide along the floor. The tail itself is bound in bright colours of wool: oranges and reds, purples and greens, all run through into a long tail-warmer that looks almost exactly like an oversized home-darned sock. The creature stops almost as soon as it gets in, looking around and asking in its squeaky, whiney voice, ~Whozzat?~ It stares at Emma, the strange girl atop the turnstile with the stranger expression of a sort Squeaks has never seen before, with rapt amazement. She looks too then at Kathryn-Laura, and she asks, similarly mystified, ~Whozzat?~ slurring the words together so they're one.

Emma does her best to keep a rather plain face about her. She does her share of staring at the creature, but doesn't budge from her position on the turnstyle, sitting there like a rather grumpy gargoyle.

The Black Fury remains still, in the same stance, the light from the office effectively silhouetting her. Her face is expressionless, but she can't help but widen her eyes, and she can't stop herself from staring at the grotesque creature.

~Introduce yourself, Squeaks,~ Olga tells the mule, a blunt edge to her voice, but an edge all the same, like a parent telling a child something he should know well enough to do on his own. Squeaks obliges when she's told, without looking at the Elder, still enraptured by the two Ahroun. ~Squeaks, Gnaw'r,~ she introduces herself, slowly creeping forward, like she doesn't want to scare them. ~Gnaw'r Theurge.~ She creeps a few inches closer, lowering herself into a submissive posture but without really feeling it, the way a big dog tries to put a puppy at ease. ~Gentle,~ she assures them, glancing just once at Olga to make sure she's doing it right. Olga, meanwhile, has been transformed, her dull face transformed into an ear-splitting smile that looks devilish in the candlelight, like this is all some massive and fantastic joke.

Emma remains tight lipped and stationary atop her perch. "Yah right. Gentle like a Cat 5 Hurricane." She folds her arms over her chest and sighs.

"Hi Squeaks," KL says, still motionless. Her voice is higher pitched than normal, as if for some reason she's very tense at this moment. "I'm called KL, and I'm a Black Fury Ahroun." She attempts a smile, but it ends up as rather more of a grimace.

Squeaks of course has no idea of the exact meaning of Emma's statement, but she understands at least that it's a refutation of her own, and this causes her to flatten her ears and look up at Emma, squinting up her eyes, like she's been offended. She lifts her tail as far as it'll go as a result, which isn't very far at all, just putting an odd curve into it, and her ears prick back up, and she moves past the perched Garou with a swagger to her step, rather plainly snubbing her as she walks over to KL. Olga does her best to suppress the laugh that's trying to punch its way out her throat, and she does fairly well, just releasing a tight-lipped snorting sound. ~Hi,~ Squeaks says, as she sits herself down right in front of KL, looking straight up at her expectantly, like she might at any moment do some trick, and even if she doesn't, she's still an interesting thing to watch.

Emma smirks, "That's good Olga. That's an attitude that'll get it real far once it's grown up." She just shakes her head, really looking as if this is pure torture to her.

"So, what do you like, Squeaks?" KL asks, relaxing a little. It's not much of a question, and it would probably be better without the slightly patronising note in it, but it's an effort at least. She drops into a crouch, so that her eyes are roughly level with those of the metis.

Olga walks over now to stand beside Emma, grin still on her face, though there's a trace of apology about it too. Once she's next to the turnstile she wraps an arm around her friend's neck and lets it hang there, and then, a couple seconds after, she surreptitiously raises it again to give the girl's short hair a quick light noogie, saying more in the guesture than she could have in words. Squeaks, meanwhile, seems to be equally uninterested in words. What she's interested in is what lies beyond the office: she can see the glare of the neon light across the street, she knows there's a window there, and beyond that an outside world, and she's unable to hide at this early age that it fascinates her. She keeps pulling her head to one side, trying to see around KL, and not getting very far. ~Whozzat?~ she asks suddenly, pointing straight at the girl, like she didn't get the introduction the first time around. Olga explains a second later, Glabro voice grumbly and rough, "She, uh, doesn' do English so good, yet."

KL sighs slightly, and a look of mild concentration flits across her face before she shifts into Glabro. The most exceptional feature about KL in this form is that somehow her jeans manage to _still_ be too big for her. ~Hello Squeaks~ She says, ~I am KL, Black Fury Ahroun~ Perhaps it is the form, perhaps the repetition, but there is a hint of irritation about this.

Emma feels a bit trapped and it shows. The noogie is taken only with toleration because it is Olga. She whispers to the other very softly.

~Hi KL,~ Squeaks greets her again, the name in her fanged mouth slurred and odd, the mule apparently not having learnt the human alphabet, much less how to manage it in the Mother Tongue. She looks up at her, eyes reflecting the faint glow from outside, as well as something else, a more inner light that springs from some secret purpose. ~Hug,~ the miniature Gnawer decides sweetly, moving forward with furry arms outstretched, though she tries to crook her head in underneath the Fury's arm, squirreling it in and up so that she can spy outside through the window, and it's rather blatant that this's the point of the whole exercise. Olga sees this, well-used to Squeaks' behaviour, and her grip on Emma's arm tightens, and she whispers back.

KL is not really one of nature's great huggers, and it really shows. The net result is a rather ungainly and awkward half-hug, with KL trying not to let Squeaks actually touch her body. It doesn't take her long to work out what Squeaks is up to, either. ~Are you supposed to look outside?~ she asks, as she takes a step away from the Gnawer, seeking to re-interpolate her body between the window and the inquisitive metis.

Emma grunts a bit, leaning in softly to Olga once more. "I gotta get going. You need to tuck her away so I can scoot out?" She glances to KL then too, "You gonna stick around, or you wanna head back to the Stone with me?"

Squeaks answers in utter dishonesty, ~Yes, supposed to look outside.~ She scrambles to do so, her curiosity siezing her now, the object of long months' longing inside the dark theatre so very close now, just on the other side of KL. When she sees that she's not to be allowed though, the claws come out, she scrapes at the arm that holds her in place, teeth coming down around the thigh she's struggling to wriggle over. Her whole body wracks, now, back and forth, trying to tear enough of a hole in the Ahroun to squeeze through. Olga is up immediately, hunched down, moving to grab the kid, moving to interpose herself between it and KL should the latter react in kind to Squeaks' attack.

KL lets out a bark of surprised pain as the Metis' teeth cut through the fabric of her trousers and into her leg, which transforms into a snarl of rage. She kicks her leg, attempting to shake Squeaks clear of her, whilst at the same time grasping for the Gnawer's waist, hoping to lift her off the ground.

"Awe fuck." Emma jumps down from the turnstyle now and moves to the Fury's side to help restrain the Ahroun if she goes a little more aggressively towards the other. Not that she is protecint the mule, no, she is just trying to keep things from getting too ruffled. "Yah, I'd say it's time for us both to go."

Squeaks isn't too hard to move around, heavy though the little Gnawer is the Glabro is heavier, and the scales are definitely tipped in her favour. The only problem is Squeaks just has so many pointy bits and KL is the closest pincushion for her to vent her frustration on. The Fury manages to get her up off the ground, dangling there, largely ineffective until the mule manages to wriggle and get her fangs around KL's wrist. The position the Ahroun's got the tyke in gives the kid a definite weakness, however, which Olga as she rushes up behind is quick to exploit, grabbing Squeaks' tail and giving it a sharp yank, trying to pull the monster from KL's hands, and drag her where her claws can't reach the other's flesh.

A nasty gash on one leg. A score mark down one arm. A vicious bite onto her right wrist. And KL lets out a deep, throaty, laugh that rumbles on. She ripps her arm away from the mule's grip, still laughing, and steps back, hoping that the tail grab is sufficient to hold the metis, at least for a moment.

Emma looks more than a little surprised at the reaction of her fellow Ahroun. She stops to gauge it, wondering if it's that maddened laugh before hysteric rage, or if she is generally amused at the antic. "Uh.." she answers, or perhaps asks, dumbly.

When KL lets go Squeaks goes jerking back with a high squeal, half-angry half-pissed, and Olga nearly lends on her butt as well, taking a few scuffling steps back. There's a dull fury on the Elder's face as she reels the mule slowly in, like a fisherman drawing in a catch. "I think Em's right," Olga says, looking up at the two of them, her voice tense as a drumskin. "You guys better go." Someone's in trouble, but Squeaks, still flailing and trying to claw her way out, doesn't know it yet.

KL nods, the laugh dying away. ~I will see you again, Squeaks~ she says, nodding at the cub as she walks towards Emma. There's the merest hint of a limp about her gait, however, and the blood is only now beginning to stop flowing from the gashes on her arms.

Emma pages to the room: How come Squeaks is so behaved with Joey!? And so obnoxious to Emma? Is it like that whole, cats go to the ones they know don't like em thing?

Emma looks from Olga and the mule, to the Fury. She doesn't bother to ask if the other is alright, just starts leading her towards the way out. She waits until Olga and the kid are deposited safely out of view, and then slinks her way out, "I'll catch ya later O."

R's Comments: I've been saving up that "I'm just a fucking point-and-click Ahroun" line for a while. I think I'll use it again (KL is hardly original most of the time). It was getting very late by the end of this scene, which is why I stop making sense, I think. Still, was cool, though it would be nice to meet someone and make a good impression.

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