Time/Date :April 11 2007
Place : Safehouse
Weather :Currently in Saint Claire, it is mostly cloudy. The temperature is 39 degrees Fahrenheit (3 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the northeast at 3 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.90 and falling, and the relative humidity is 93 percent. The dewpoint is 37 degrees Fahrenheit (2 degrees Celsius.)
Moon Phase :Currently the moon is in the waning Half Moon phase (41% full).
Safehouse: Common Area(#2947RAJ)
The foyer of this house is set off from the living room with its octagonal bump-out by a four foot high halfwall. Stairs lead up from the foyer, turning and disappearing to the right, and a wooden door with a keycard lock claims the wall opposite the living room. The rest of the main floor is taken up by a small bathroom across the hallway from a dining room which is separated from the kitchen at the back of the house by another half-wall. The decor is decidedly sparse - white walls, beige carpeting in the living and dining rooms and down the hall, unremarkable vinyl in the foyer and kitchen.
A used couch and a pair of recliners are grouped around a coffee table in the living room, with a foursome of wooden chairs claiming the bump out for quieter conversation. The dining room boasts a white laminate table with four aluminum and vinyl-upholstered chairs - too new to be 'vintage', too old to be trendy. The appliances and cupboards in the kitchen are new - or at least refurbished to look like it - and a door leads out to the backyard from there.
Up the stairs are a number of empty rooms where anyone affiliated with the Sept can crash and an office for private meetings. The Glass Walkers have their own area accessible via a locked door off the foyer. The main doors themselves lead back out to the front porch of the house.
Sometime over the last couple of years, a teen girl with a poor attitude and a hair-trigger temper has grown up, and matured into a young woman. With a poor attitude and a hair-trigger temper. KL is a little over five-foot tall - no late growth spurt for her - and slimly built. She moves quickly, and is rarely still for any length of time. Her natural balance and co-ordination are clearly evident in her movement, but any hint of grace is smothered with her air of irritation, hostility and restrained aggression. She manages to turn even simple activities - like ordering fries - into not particularly subtle attempts to provoke fights.
Her mousy-brown hair is pulled back into a plait that hangs down to the small of her back and is fastened at the bottom and top by dark brown leather bands. She's really quite attractive, perhaps not a pin-up, but far from ugly, with a cute upturned nose and wide expressive hazelnut eyes. However, any level of appeal her physical appearance might have is swamped by the anger in her gaze and the sullen set of her mouth. She stares at people - particularly people she doesnt know - with a cold fury, as if trying to decide exactly which way to kill them.
KL has pale skin, and on her right shoulder-blade is a two-inch-square tattoo of a winged horse. There isn't much in the way of excess flesh on her, her cheekbones are clearly visible and her bare arms have a tight musculature that speaks of regular and plentiful exercise.
She is wearing a pair of blue jeans that look brand-new, and have a designer label clearly visible on the rear, a pair of combat boots that also look new. On her upper half she is sporting a rather snazzy black leather jacket over a clean new white t-shirt.
A burly, hulking figure, well over six feet high and topped with a shock of dark hair atop a face with hostile intent carved in its features. Between the face and the strongly muscled body, the general impression is of a thuglike man, not one to meet in a dark alley by night. His hands and feet in particular appear huge even for one this size, and his fingers curl as though they cannot wait to be doing some mischief.
One of Kevin's feet is clad in its usual running shoe, and is on the ground. The other is bare, and is resting on the coffee table -- how unhygienic! -- as its owner peers at it. "Nope," sighs Kevin. "Gone for good. Oh well, a scar is a scar."
Kevin's peaceful contemplation is disturbed by a thumping at the safehouse door. A less-solid one would rattle with the force of the blows, but this one is substantial enough to withstand the pummeling. Whoever is at the door seems unfamiliar with the concept of "doorbell". Or "discretion", really.
Kevin turns his eyes heavenward. "If you've forgotten your key, Basil, I shall disembowel you," he vows, moving (with a slight limp) to the door and jerking it open.
It's not Basil. Obviously. After the ferocity of her knocking, KL seems to have undergone a sudden attack of nerves, and has stepped back slightly from the door and wrapped her arms about her stomach. "Hi Kevin," she says, lifting one hand in a little wave.
"Oh my /gawd/," Kevin gasps, his mid-atlantic accent falling apart for a moment and reverting to pure Mummerset. "KL! I've not seen you for /months/. I thought the Wyrm had got you! Come in! It's so great to see you!" He retreats from the door with a light tread of pleasant surprise, barely limping at all in his delight.
KL enters, a grin on her face. "I've been away," she says, with a little shrug. She pushes the door closed behind her and steps into the house proper. "Do you usually answer the door in glabro?"
Kevin gasps. "Oh hell! N-o-o-o, I don't... been stuck in it for days while trying to fix my foot." He lifts his bare foot off the ground and waves it in KL's direction. "Clean forgot to shift back to answer the door! Don't tell the philodoxes... So how've you /been/?"
Another shrug. "I think I'm better now," she says, her voice flat. The Fury looks concerned, and peers at the proffered extremity "What happened to your foot? Were you trying to move furniture again?"
Kevin looks down at his foot, which is missing the outermost three toes. Then back at KL. He's silent for a few seconds, as though planning how best to answer that question to maximum effect, then responds with "Oh, I just got into a fight for the alphaship of my pack." All nonchalance, as though he's talking about popping to the store for milk. "I won," he adds with even more of a throwaway attitude.
KL looks impressed, raising her eyebrows. "Congratulations. Everyone's gone up in the world. Emma's a fostern, you're a pack alpha." She wanders away from Kevin into the living room, momentarily lost in thought. "Basil?" she asks, eventually, looking back over her shoulder. "And do you still make coffee, or is that below you now?"
"I'll make some!" Kevin offers, showing that he can still move quickly despite his scarring by scooting towards the kitchen. "Basil quit the pack," he adds over his shoulder. "Silly boy. The challenge was against Morgan."
"Oh." KL says, sitting down onto one of the recliners and raising her voice so that Kevin can still hear her. "And she bit your toes off?" There's an odd sort of distractedness about her, as if she's only partially paying attention to the conversation.
Kevin returns in a few moments, having set coffee on the path to readiness. "I guess so," he replies as he sits back down opposite her. "It all happened so fast." He looks at the foot again, and wiggles its two remaining toes. "Might have been claws. She was crinos. I wasn't. Anyway." He looks back at KL. "What's the news from your end?"
The Fury grimaces. "Well, HAVOC is a bit short of members, so we're recruiting. Emma seemed very down when I saw her, but I think I cheered her up." She sits herself up a little bit, shifting forward on the recliner so that she's leaning towards Kevin. "I'm trying to decide what to do about this fucking kin guy that seems interested in me." A shrug. "Not a lot else."
Kevin chews on his lower lip for a second. "I'm not the first person you should probably come to about issues of the heart," he understates. "This kin guy? That would be wossname, Iakovos?"
"No," KL says, looking very sad. "Kovo's...gone away. This guy's called Alexander. I just can't understand him at all. One moment he seems interested in me, the next it's all "duty to the tribe" crap." She shakes her head. "I should just rip him into shreds. That would solve the problem."
Kevin chooses to take that as a joke, and chuckles. "If you do it'll only give people the wrong idea about ya," he quips. "Does his idea of 'duty to the tribe' involve you having lots of babies?"
"I think it rather explicitly does," the Fury says. "And I'm not sure I'm ready for that. Maybe when I'm twenty." She grins widely, as if this is some incredible joke. "What wrong idea, anyway?"
"Well, /you/ know what they say about your tribe," Kevin replies, rather more cautiously than his last statement. "Twenty's a good age," he goes on quickly, as though to forestall any outburst of anger from KL at his comment upon the Furies. "If Aimee'n me are still together then, we might go for it. I'm eighteen in two months, you know..."
"You've got a fucking awful memory, you know," KL says. Her tone is pleasant, but there's a dangerous glint in her eyes. "You're eighteen in two months? You can't be. You're not fucking old enough." It's all still under control, but she's very irritated about something.
Kevin meets those glinting eyes for just about two seconds, or, if preferred, one second too short for it to be construed as a staredown. "I remember," he says simply, and looks away. There's a moment's tense silence, then he continues. "I bloody am going to be eighteen, you know. But if you don't believe me, fine, don't come to my party..."
KL snorts. "Only if you don't come to mine first," she retorts, anger dissipating in a wash of amusement. She sits back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other in a surprisingly elegant gesture. "So what's been happening? Emma was a bit useless when it came to news."
"Ooh, you having a party too?" Kevin chirrups. "News... ehh, what's been going on? Ridgeline split up and Jacinta quit as Lord High Referee. That Silver Fang lupus has it now, and Jamethon's trying to put a guardian pack together. /Basil/ has been out there acting as guardian," he smirks, as though this statement is intrinsically the funniest thing he's said tonight.
"Basil?" The Fury sounds totally disbelieving. "He's...the guardians spend the vast majority of their time on the bawn. With trees. And bushes. And that doesn't sound much like Basil." A pause. "Blackriver is..." Her expression darkens. "Wow, she's ambitious, isn't she? Vera had better be careful."
"I know. Ludicrous, isn't it?" Kevin agrees. "Especially since Basil is always going on about how garou are idiots and our way of life is outdated. As for Blackriver, I don't suppose she's got the cunning to dislodge our beloved leader. These lupus are simple folks. Now, what's this about a party, eh?"
"Well," KL says, "It's my birthday in May. So maybe a party would be a good idea." She spreads her hands wide. "Sort of combine it with a 'hey, I'm back' thing. Might be quite fun. Alexander has been working on my alcohol tolerance quite a lot."
Kevin's eyes narrow as he looks at KL. "...you know, I can't picture you tiddly," he says, in what seems to be complimentary tone of voice. "Your spirit is too fiery, too rampant, to be drowned and diluted by the earthly waterlogging of alcohol." He looks faintly surprised once he's delivered those words, as though he didn't expect to wax so unexpectedly poetic.
The Fury looks a bit confused at this. "Do you want a copy of Watchtower to wave around? Or perhaps the Pearl of Great Price?" She stares at Kevin, half-irritated, half-incredulous.
Kevin grins broadly, and possibly irritatingly, at KL. "Seriously, KL. You know what I reckon about alcohol and drugs and that. Bad medicine." He wags a sanctimonious finger. "Always having a go at Basil over it."
"Yeah, but you're wrong," KL says with a shake of her head. "Well, maybe not about having a go at Basil. But alcohol...well...some alcohol. It's traditional." Her eyes go distant. "A good friend gave me my first ever drink. Coors beer. And everytime I have one of those - which isn't often, before your horse gets any fucking bigger - I drink it to her." She blinks, coming back to the here and now. "More importantly, have you got any idea where it's dwelling and breeding? I need to get back to work."
Kevin gives a semi-amused snort. "Hey, I've been known to knock back a bottle now and again. Highdays and holidays, like. It's when you get to the point you can't function without it, that I call foul ball. As for dwelling and breeding," he says, sitting back and putting up his feet on the coffee table again, "try everywhere. As usual. Though my pack's turf is pretty clear, and I'd expect yours to be too. The city could be much worse than it is. There's been some weird stuff going on out at Kent Crossing, if you believe the papers, but I get the distinct impression it'd be unwise to ask too many questions at the farmhouse about that, know what I mean?" He winks knowingly.
The Ahroun looks totally blank. "No. Not a clue. What do you mean? Or are you trying to say that the weird stuff going on at Kent Crossing is due to people at the farmhouse being indiscreet?"
Kevin shrugs. "I could be off beam, but when you hear tales of a wolf attacking some guy and biting him to death, and then the story changes to oops-sorry-it-wasn't-a-wolf-after-all, something rings little bells in my nasty suspicious mind."
"Ah, yes," KL says, with a dismissive wave. "You're probably right. Is the coffee particularly slow-brewing, or have you forgotten about it?" She grins insouciently. "I guess I just want something to do. I didn't come back here to sit around in living rooms."
"Oops, I forgot," Kevin admits for the second time in this conversation. "It'll still be hot, though. That's the joy of having a coffee machine. Hey, why don't we have the coffee, then go out for a walk round some of the city that isn't your turf or ours? Just to see if anything's brewing that shouldn't be."
"Sounds good," The Fury says with enthusiasm. "I went on an aeroplane, by the way. Not an experience I'll be repeating in the near future. Bad for the world, and fucking annoying. They have these fucking awful bread rolls. And they don't let you have the plastic knives for 'security reasons'. Fucking roll is a more offensive weapon."
Kevin laughs from the kitchen as he pours out coffee. "Not been on a plane since the one that brought me to the States," he calls through. "Not planning to do so either. There's a lot of air between you and the ground..." He returns, a mug in each hand.
"Yeah. It wasn't that I objected to. It's the fucking attitude that everyone seems to have. I mean, do I look like a fucking terrorist?" She seems genuinely irked by this. "You don't ever intend to go back to England? Not even for a visit? Might be worth it to close off loose ends. Worked for me."
Kevin takes a deep breath, and a sip of coffee, in that order. "If I go back," he says frankly, "I may not ever return here... and that'd be bad."
"Here is better than other places," KL says, before drinking her coffee. "I've decided so, anyway. Mmm." She holds the coffee mug close to her chest. "I only drink coffee here, you know. Usually I'm a water and milk girl."
"Yeah. I know what you mean. St Claire's so far from perfect it's not funny, but somehow... it's where we belong, innit?" Kevin looks at KL over his coffee mug. "As though the world's a big chess board, and we're a couple of pieces, and Gaia just moved us both over here to be part of some brilliant combination..." He sets the mug down. "I must stop burbling like this," he chides himself. "Where shall we go once we've drunk the coffee? Up to the old hospital, then along to the bridge and back round here via the south side?"
"Sounds good," the Ahroun says, with a grin. "Nothing like a nice walk staring at people until they go away to get back into the swing of things." She takes another gulp of coffee then glances at the Glasswalker's foot. "Can you walk? Or am I going to have to carry you?"
"I can walk," Kevin says. "Just can't run very fast any more. I think they do special shoes for people like me, but I haven't had time to look into that yet."
KL grins. "Finally! I can beat you in a running race!" Always one to find a silver lining. She drains her coffee mug and sets it down. "How're you doing with your coffee? Ready to go?"
Kevin drinks the remainder down in one. "Am now," he says once it's gone, and he fishes his other sock and shoe up from the side of his chair.