Time/Date : It is currently 13:01 Pacific Time on Tue Dec 11 2007.
Place : Greek House: Common Area(#2409RAJh$)
Weather :Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 35 degrees Fahrenheit (1 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the north at 3 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.21 and falling, and the relative humidity is 92 percent. The dewpoint is 33 degrees Fahrenheit (0 degrees Celsius.)
Moon Phase : Currently the moon is in the waxing New Moon phase (13% full).
Greek House: Common Area(#2409RAJh$)
This is the central hub of the house. From here, you can still see the entrance foyer, as well as the stairway that heads to the second story. Towards the back of the common area is a set of glass doors that lead out to a courtyard. To the east, an arched doorway leads to what apparently serves as a library, office, and workroom, and to the west, an arched doorway leads to what appears to be a kitchen and dining area..
There are several chairs here, simple, elegant, yet functional in their design and intent. The room has a comfortable feel to it, but is a bit ascetic in design. The walls are off-white, the molding dark cherry wood and decorated with acanthus-leaf ornamentation at the corners. A pair of antique spears are hung crossed against each other on one wall, and a wall-relief depicting a scene of Grecian warriors hangs on the other. Above the mantle of the fireplace is a small statue of Artemis, on either side of that, dark metal candlesticks with ivory pillar candles. The entire room is a study in the contrast of light and dark.
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 hangs loose around her shoulders, the front falling to frame her face. Her hair looks like it has been cut recently, and by someone with at least a little skill. 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 white T-Shirt and a pair of white cycling shorts, white sports socks and a pair of white trainers. All of the clothes look new, or at least very well cared for. There's a large bandage wrapped around her right calf.
Around her neck hangs a pendant, an oval disk made of some kind of bone. It looks like it's been decorated with carved designs, which are somewhat hard to make out on casual inspection. The pendant is hung on a leather thong.
Laora is a big girl, not fat, but burly, with broad heavy shoulders and beefy hands scarred and hardened by manual labour. She stands at a height of five foot nine and fills out from there, built like a top, all arms and chest. Her skin is freckled and sunburnt, and her shoulder length hair is dry and frayed, its auburn colour burnt almost to straw. Her eyes are a bright expressive hazel, which light up every time she smiles.
Laora wears a pair of stiff blue jeans, heavy leather boots, and a form fitting t-shirt (which is still a size XL). A simple steel torc, unadorned and gently sweeping, clasps around her neck.
Looking like she just stepped from the gym, Stratonike befits her Fury tribe. Her hair is short, not styled at all and growing out from what looks to be a bleach job. Her body is toned and slim and she's always ready for battle. She isn't one that people would call attractive and her demeanor doesn't lend any more to how people would see her. When she smiles, which isn't that often, her teeth tend to show off a slightly twisted canine tooth which gives her a bit of fang look to her smile. She's tall, around 5' 10", and her form follows her function as an Ahroun. She wears a white a-shirt and over the top of it an unbuttoned oxford in light blue. A pair of what seem to be new khaki cargo pants adorn her legs. A pair of beat and battered Doc Martens make sure her feet are protected.
It's early in the afternoon and Nike is sitting, plopped down, on the front porch of the house. She looks out from the front and finally gets to her feet and goes inside. Once there, she does a normal turn around the house as she checks all about for intruders. Once satisfied, she moves to the couch and stretches out to catch 20 winks.
The front door swings open, and then slams shut as the other Fury Ahroun enters with her typical level of care and good manners. In one hand is a wad of papers, in the other a carrier bag with some groceries in it. Entirely unaware of her napping Alpha, she is humming (fairly tunelessly) and happily to herself.
One eye cranks open and Nike peers to KL. "Well. Look who decides to come back home." She rights herself on the couch once more. "How's things?"
Laora looks like she had a fight with a wood chipper and lost. Her normal bulky frame is made even bulkier by the bandages around her belly. Her face, well her face has been all but destroyed. She currently has an unnerving resemblance to two face from Batman. Four clear claw marks start at her temple and end at her chin, the claws having put out her eye during their progress across her face. Having made her way here in from the Bawn and in Glabro, she shrinks down in to Homid before knocking on the back door.
KL starts, surprised at the sound of Nike's voice. "Pretty good. I've solved my big problem, and now all I need to do is sort out the small problem." At the knock on the back door, she raises an eyebrow. "Expecting anyone?" she asks, putting down her things in a purposeful manner. There's a tension in her body, all of a sudden, as if she's expecting trouble.
"No." And Nike is up off the couch to open the door. "What the fuck do you want?" She says as she opens it. She looks upon the face and raises a brow. "You okay now? Nothing wrong?" She asks, raising a brow. "Looks like someone kicked the shit outta you."
Laora grins widely, although one half of her mouth doesn't work quite right. "Should see the shape I left Cole in. Or Cedric, or Beth. Had a busy week." The smiles drops. "Cedric is your packmate, right?"
"Who..." KL starts to ask, walking up behind her Alpha and peering around her. As Laora speaks, her jaw literally drops. "You!" Arms go across chest instantly, and her expression hardens. "What the fuck are you doing here you fucking wyrm-infested fucking disgrace for a fucking Garou." Not, perhaps, the most coherent or eloquent introduction. The shorter Ahroun's muscles quiver, as if she's a hair's breadth away from doing something energetic.
Nike gives a nod of her head to Laora and then gives a gaze towards KL. "Well now. This should be interesting. Yes. Cedric is our packmate. The three of us. What of it?" A hand is held to KL to calm down.
Laora's remaining eye blinks and you can nearly see her hackles lifting, as she bares her teeth at KL. "And who the fuck are you?" She snarls. "I'm Laora Steel-Claws. Cliath Galliard and Elder of the Fianna."
KL does calm down slightly, in that the quivering stops, but her expression doesn't really relax at all. "KL Cole, Escapes-From-Money, Cliath Ahroun of the Black Furies, packed under wolverine as part of HAVOC," she's almost spitting the words at Laora, especially the last part of it. Still, at least she's stopped swearing, for the moment.
"And what the fuck have I done to piss you off, so fucking much?" Laora asks.
Nike gives a growl to both women. "MY house. Shut the hell up. Both of you." Nike looks back to Laora, "If you want to have the pissing contest, do it at the farmhouse. Get it?" She calms slightly, "Now. What did you want?"
"You..." KL starts to respond, then at Nike's instruction subsides into a baleful silence, continuing to glare at the Fianna, her hands clenching her upper arms so tightly that the skin turns white beneath her fingers.
Laora's nostrils flare. "Your packmate is fucking insane. His Klaive is fake. Fuck. I made the fake Klaive he is currently carrying and it has Glyphs on it announcing that it isn't real. I was having a conversation with him and he started talking to the bloody dishrack. He is your packmate. I am giving you the chance to deal with him. I'm not about to let someone go around saying that they have a Klaive, when it's nothing more then a silver plated sword. It's an embarrassment to this Sept and the Garou as a whole."
Nike gives a slight tilt of her head and a vertebrae cracks as she does so. "Then I will speak with him." She states, plainly. "You get that taint off you?" Nike asks, "And were you tainted when you took Elder from Cole?" She keeps between KL and Laora. "Told you before... You gotta calm that temper."
KL gives a little shrug, and the corner of her mouth twists into a little grin. "Cedric's not the only person around here without a klaive," she comments. She does seem noticeably cooler now, though her eyes don't thaw or leave Laora for a second.
Laora uhhs at KL, looking a touch confused. "What do you mean by that?" She asks, bristling a little, Irish accent impossible to miss. "I had been cleansed," Laora says through gritted teeth. "Would have been nice if someone had bothered to warn by that those fucking bugs tainted you when they hit you. I never even had the slightest clue I'd been tainted, until after I was fucking cleansed."
"A lot of us don't have Klaives, I guess." Nike shakes her head, "Still, being tainted is not a good thing." She blows out a low breath. "I will speak to Cedric and see what is going on. If you have problems, see a Philodox."
KL remains silent, not bothering to explain her somewhat cryptic comment. She takes a slow step back and to the side, finally dropping her stare and letting Nike handle the issue.
"Just ask to look at it," Laora growls out softly. "The Glyphs are on blade. You can't miss them. He seems to think it is real and the one he had before our Challenge."
"It is not the same one?" Nike questions.
KL's brow furrows, as if she's a bit lost too. "What?" she asks, puzzled rather than hostile. Her arms drop away from her chest to her sides.
Laora huffs out a breath. "No, it isn't. Didn't I just tell you I made the one he is carrying and calling real? I made it as a display piece. Never actually intended to use the fucking thing. I snapped his old one, to prove it wasn't real. I left him the broken one and the one I'd made at his bedside. I had no use for it any more. I'd made my point. At least, I fucking thought I did."
Nike gives a rub of her chin, thinking now. She shakes her head and sighs. "This needs the philodox... Not just me."
Melodie opens the door and walks in exactly as Nike says the word Philodox. She pulls off her coat and drops it on the floor near the door, before heading towards the women.
KL's jaw drops again, and she rolls her eyes. "Silver Fangs!" she breathes, staring at the ceiling. "So, right, you don't have a klaive?" she asks Laora, all trace of hostility gone. "And in fact, did not break one in Cedric." She shakes her head slowly.
Laora shrugs. "As to look at it. There are glyphs on the blade, declaring it a mockery and a fake. My mark is under the binding around the fucking handle. I tried telling the arse it was a fake, twice. Pulled the damn thing on me the second time."
Nike throws up her hands, "He's my packmate. I tell him it's a fake. Okay? That's all I can do. If you want more than that... Philodox!"
Melodie grins at Nike. "Elder." She nods her head to Laora. "Someone else's Elder." And she looks at KL for completeness, pausing a second. "Badass."
"Me?" Laora says, pointing at herself. "Fuck no. I had the one Cedric has now. Id made it as a fucking displace piece. Try and prove to the arse that you could fake a Klaive. I ended up stabbing him with it, instead. It didn't damn break. Nicer piece of work then the shit that he'd been carrying."
"Hi Mel," KL greets the Philodox. She still seems mildly shocked by the information Laora has provided, and turns away from the door they are standing around and takes a few steps back toward the centre of the house.
Nike looks to Melodie, "Her. Talk to her. I'm tired of having to make decisions when it should be HER doing it." Her hands keep pointing at Mel.
Laora's nostrils flare. "I'm telling you, because he is your fucking packmate. Doing you the curtesy of letting you save his ass, before he makes a total idiot out of all of us."
Melodie looks a little confused. "Did someone break the Litany again? I'm glad to help, if I can. You're talking about Cedric, right? He's a really strange man."
Nike rubs a hand across her forehead and sighs. "I said... And I repeat... I will speak with him of this knife. Okay?"
"Cedric has a klaive that isn't a klaive," KL explains, "but he thinks it is. He's a bit odd, you're right. Laora seems to think it's a matter of honour to stop him saying that it is." She shrugs. "He's my - and Nike's packmate - and I don't think it's a problem. I mean, given the crazy shit some people seem to believe, it seems harmless to me."
Laora's remaining eye twitches, as she turns her attention to Melodie. "He is insane. He claims to have a Klaive. An Honorable weapon, that only the greatest warriors ever get to wield. They are fetishes, most are ancient, with great and powerful spirits bound in to them. To claim that a silver plated /modern/ blade is a Klaive is..." The woman seems lost for words for a moment. "Unthinkable and disgraceful. How harmless will it be, when he goes in with the delusion that the damn thing makes him invincible, or some shit like that?"
Melodie puts her hand on her chin, thinking. "Hmm. I don't think it's against the litany, exactly. But it's certainly not wise. And it's not very honorable either. We can hear things other than straight Litany violations, I'd be willing to take your case to the Philodox to hear, if he isn't willing to drop it. Because being Wise, and Honorable, and Glorious, the creeds, those are important too." She nods her head decisively. "That's what I think."
Nike remains quiet, but still in the doorway as the others speak.
KL listens to Melodie, obviously not entirely convinced. She props herself up against a wall, slumping back against it and shaking her head minutely from side to side.
Laora rolls her remaining good eye. "I'm done here. Gaia watch." That said, Loara lifts a hand in farewell and prepares to leave.
Nike lifts her own hand to Laora, "Same to you as well." As she moves away from the door finally, leaving it slightly open in case anything else is said.
Melodie smiles at Laora. "No guarantees, but I don't want anyone to think that the Philodox don't listen to complaints! We're here to help, si? See you later, Fianna-rhya."
KL gives a curt little nod to Laora, watching her as if to make sure that she actually is leaving, then peels herself off the wall, still shaking her head.
Laora heads out the door, shifting back in to Glabro when she reaches the woods.
Nike blows out a low breath. "Too much damn anger around here." She huffs into the kitchen and throws open the fridge.
Melodie smiles at Nike. "Good thing it's a small moon, huh? Anyway, it doesn't feel like home if someone isn't a little cranky."
Nike cannot help it and cracks a smile at Mel's words. "Too true. Welcome home, KL." As she returns to the couch.
Now Laora is gone, KL seems all happiness and light again. She goes and grabs her pieces of paper. "Hey, Mel, what do you think of this?" She hands the piece of paper over - on it is drawn some sort of bear-like creature, slavering at the jaws, with the words "No Mercy" beneath it.
Melodie takes the paper, and looks at it carefully. "Hey, that's pretty wicked! Where you planning on getting it?"
"Ah, good question," KL says, shrugging. "I was thinking on my arm," she pats her upper left arm. "But...dunno. That might be a bit obvious." She ponders. "I'm never going to work in an office, I guess."
Melodie grins, "Yeah, arm is good! You want it somewhere you can see it too. And that's too big for an ankle design. And then whenever you wear something sleeveless, it looks super cool."
KL looks at the piece of paper again. "Yeah, I think I'm happy with it. Bit nervous, it's rather more of a statement than my current one." She grins. "Still, you only live once. And for some of us, not for long." She blinks. "Wonder if I should do something else? And when do you want to go? We've probably got a couple more days before someone stabbing me with pointy things becomes problematic."
Melodie grins. "I love your Pegasus. I think it's good, it's not like most people don't already react to you like you're scary. I'm free anytime! I've got an idea for something cool, too."
"Oh?" KL asks. "What? And...um...how about now? Unless you're busy. Before I get second thoughts." She grins. "Or pick a fight with the wrong person and end up in the infirmary."
Melodie tries to describe her thought. "I want it around my ankle, staring out as a line of caterpillars, and then when it comes around again from behind it's a line of butterflies instead. To symbolize that we can't ever give up, because sometimes things that look like the Wyrm can become something beautiful by the end. ANd it'd be pretty too."
KL's brow furrows, as she tries to visualise what Melodie is describing. Eventually, she either gets it or gives up. "Sounds cool. You know anywhere good in town? And do we risk the bus or run?"
Melodie pages to the room: That's your cue, Dre. :-)
A new 2008 Grabber Orange/Performance White Shelby GT 500 arrives on the drive in front of the house. The engine is heard cutting-off and the door opening. A mid-twenty-year-old Hispanic man is seen stepping towards the front door, in which he rings the doorbell.
Most noticeably of Hispanic-decent, Andreas is a slender, roughish and perhaps even dashingly handsome man. His dark hair is shaved closely to his scalp. A five o'clock shadow often looms over his face. The irises of his eyes are dark. His nose is long and broad which arrive to lush, full lips. His built is fairly average, showing a mixture of muscle and natural-looking body fat. There is often the smell of spicy-smelling aftershave or cheap cologne that rises faintly from his clothing. He is often found wearing a pair of khaki-colored Dockers with a fitted tee-shirt. On his head is regularly a baseball-cap and on his feet a pair of tennis shoes. Around his neck hangs a rosary.
Melodie goes to answer the door, "No, but I kinda know where the Tattoo parlors are." She opens the door, and bounces into the man's arms in a startling hug. "Dre! Just perfect! We so need your wheels." She lets go, and introduces. "Dre, this is our tribesister KL. KL, this is my actual blood-brother, Dre. So he's our Kin."
The Fury Ahroun grabs her jacket, and heads for the door. She's about half-way out, following Melodie, when she sees Andreas and freezes on the spot, almost entirely motionless, the jacket half over her shoulder. "Hi," she eventually manages to say, uncharacteristically hesitantly.
Dre oofs lightly as Melodie bounces into his arms. "Hey," he greets with a cheeky grin. He looks up at Kl, smiles, and nods. "Andreas Lorenzo Ortego," he greets, offering his hand out to the woman.
Melodie doesn't seem dissuaded by KL's hesitancy. "We wanna go to a tattoo parlor, can you give us a ride? And do you know any good ones in town yet? I bet you got some, huh?"
"KL Cole," KL responds, taking his hand, shaking it slowly and smiling. "And this is your weavercart?" she asks, looking at the car in the driveway. With a little start, she realises she hasn't released his hand, and lets it drop. "Yeah, can you take us into town?"
"I don't know of any good tattoo parlors in town," Andreas replies. "I'll take you, but don't you have to be eighteen to get a tattoo without parental permission?" The kin raises his brow as he looks to Melodie. Then, to KL, he replies with a release of her hand, "Never heard it refer to a weavercart before, but... uh, yes, it is."
Melodie shrugs. "I got some money still from when we took out that porno guy, I can probably just pay extra to be 18. Besides, even tattoo guys are gonna be scared to piss _us_ off, huh?" She beams.
KL nods. "People don't usually say "no" to me. Well, not twice." A rather nasty grin, which softens as she looks back at Dre. "Nice," she comments, flicking a glance at the car. "In a world-destroying way." She takes a couple of steps towards it. "I call shotgun?"
Dre steps down towards his car. "Who taught you all this shit?" he asks. "What are you... like sixteen?" He pushes a button on the keys to unlock the doors. "You heard her," Andreas says to Melodie with a playful smile, "You have to take the back seat."
Melodie grins, and happily slides into the backseat. "Well, I'm Cliath, that's all that matters, really. But thanks for thinking I'm 16, that's sweet. I'll let you two talk, huh?" She doesn't bother looking for a seatbelt.
The Ahroun slides in to the passenger seat, looking around the interior with a kind of "impressed but not wanting to be" expression on her face. "So...um...how long have you been in town?" she asks. She does put on her seatbelt, and sort of half-twists towards Dre.
The vehicle still has that defined 'new car' smell. "Uh, like a month or something like that." Dre replies. "I have been busy getting my business together and have not spent much time around family."
Melodie asks, "You got a job, right? Tell her about that!"
KL nods, "I've been away myself, just got back." She leans back in the seat. "So, what do you do? I hit things a lot, and shout at other things." Her lips curl and she gives a little definite nod. She looks back over her shoulder at Mel, one eyebrow raised, and then back at Dre.
Dre glances at Melodie in the rear-view mirror. "I remodel houses," he replies. "Yeah, a lot of Garou do that." The man turns on the stereo, although keeps the volume low enough for him to still be heard. "Sorry, I forgot if you had mentioned it or not, what is your auspice?"
Melodie explains, "See, that's steady work, and it pays good too. And he can fix up accidental holes and stuff, that's really useful. I broke the farmhouse cupboards one month, and I'm just a half-moon!" She looks encouragingly at Dre in the mirror, trying to be the best 'wing-man' that she can be, however obvious she is at it.
"Ahroun," KL says, "cliath, packed under wolverine." She grins at Melodie's joke. "And I destroy chairs and things occasionally. Oh, and a door, but I don't really remember that." She lifts her hand and smooths her hair back behind her ear. "I guess it won't take us as long to get to the scab as it does in Anji's little car?"
"Ouch," Dre replies when KL mentions that she is packed under the wolverine. "Does Anji obey the speed limits? I do."
Melodie grins, "Yeah, she drives like a grandma. But that's cool, Nike's lucky to have such a patient mate, huh?" She smiles to herself, managing what she thinks is more subtle.
"Ouch?" The Ahroun queries. "And I don't think Anji's car *can* break the speed limits. Good, though, keeping to the law. Cars scare me a bit. Not used to going so fast." She peers out of the window. "It always seems much further when I run it." A pause. "I run a lot. Exercise is good. Do you work out?"
"Being a Ahroun and packing under the wolverine?" Dre answers with a weak smile. "I'll make a mental note not to piss you off." The kin stops a a traffic light to take a moment to look over at KL. "Not really," he replies. "My work keeps me as fit as I need to be."
Melodie nods, "That's even better, huh, because you won't fall out of shape if you get busy or something! And you get real muscles, not showy muscles."
"Oh yeah," The Ahroun agrees. "I can go from conversation to whirling claws of death in microseconds. But I don't with people I like." She considers that. "Often. Try to be careful, anyway." She seems to sense that this might not be quite the right line to take. "I probably exercise more than I need to, but it keeps me sane. Oh, and I arch. Do archery. And can fletch my own arrows."
The car lurches as it pulls from the light, heading forward down the street towards town. "Start looking out for parlors, Mel." He then replies to the other Black Fury, "Archery, huh? Woods-y type are you?"
Melodie watches out the window. "There's a porn store, we're in the right area. Those places are so gross inside, I'm never going in one of those anymore."
"Not really," KL says, somewhat hurriedly. "I'm sort of a jack-of-all-trades. Havoc, my pack, was a city pack, though we're probably moving out to be more country-based. I've lived rough in cities from time to time, when I was younger." She grimaces. "Not the greatest of experiences, but it was necessary at the time." She grins. "I'm a city kid, originally. Denver.... hey, what about there?" She points at a shop which has "Wicked Ink" in neon on the front.
Melodie points hurriedly, "Look, that guy's pulling out, grab his spot! Score!"
Dre looks over at KL's side of the car and sees the illuminated sign. "That looks like the place," he says as he pulls into a parallel parking spot. "You know what you want, Mel?" he asks his half-sister while stepping out of the car.
KL takes a deep breath as Dre parks the car. "Well, here goes," she says with a grin. She takes her folded piece of paper out from the pocket of her jacket, looks at it, then climbs out of the car. "Ready?" she asks Mel.
Melodie grins widely. "Ready! Yeah, I got a plan." She slides out of the car, and heads boldly into the store.
Wicked Ink Tattoos and Piercing(#1971RJ)
The front of the tattoo parlor is mainly a waiting and browsing area, with an assortment of chairs and benches. End tables and magazine racks are stacked with binders, full of photos and drawings of tattoo designs and finished ink; there are a few magazines as well, devoted to tattoos and "alternative" lifestyles. A low counter separates this area from the back; it is glass on top and in front, and shelves inside the locked enclosure display a selection of body jewelry in stainless steel and a few other finishes. The counter has no cash register, but it's usually minded by one of the staff; there's an old office chair behind it for whoever happens to be on duty.
Dre follows along behind the girls at a casual stroll. He apparently has no intent on getting a tattoo tonight.
The store seems quite quiet, today - perhaps Tuesday's aren't a big day for tattoos. KL pauses on entering the parlour, and furrows her brow in concentration, before walking up to the counter, where a guy who's close to a walking advertisment for the business sits. "Hi," she says, obviously working very hard not to be intimidated. The man looks her up and down, patently unintimidated.
"Heya," he replies. "What can I do for you?"
KL hands him her piece of paper. "I wondered if I could get that done?" She pats her arm. "Here?"
Melodie immediately plants herself in front of one of the binders of art. "You go first, KL, I wanna look at these. Oh, check out that Unicorn one, that's wicked!" She flips through the pages, delighted.
The kin quietly sits in one of the waiting chairs while the two girls fuss over which tattoo they are going to get.
The tattooist studies the picture closely. "Yeah, I can do that," he says. "Now? Will cost you sixty bucks, take about an hour."
KL nods. "That's cool," she says, handing over the money. The man thrusts a form at her, and she fills it out carefully. "Wish me luck!" she says, to Mel and then flashes a grin at Dre.
Melodie finally stops on one, of a really cute butterfly on someone's boob. "Ooh, yeah, that's what I'm looking for. Good luck, KL! I'm sure it's not so bad, I'm gonna do one too. It's just needles."
Dre smiles back at Kathryn-Laura and even winks. "Good luck," he says. Then, to Melodie, "Do whatever you want, it's your skin...." He lingers off, as if to say, 'You could always rip your skin right off if you don't like it.'
The formalities complete, KL is led back into one of the booths by the tattooist. After a few minutes, the whirring buzzing sound of a tattoist's machine can be heard. There's some conversation going on between the two, but the voices are inaudible above the noise. There's also a marked lack of screaming, rending and general violence, so it's probably going OK.
Melodie grabs one of the blank pieces of paper, and starts to sketch out roughly what she wants. "See, it's a cute little caterpiller, down on my ankle, and it inches around back, and there's a sparkly poof part, and then around front again, this purple butterfly. You're a cool brother, Dre, helping your little 'sis out like this. So, are you gonna ask KL out or what?" She looks him in the eye, expectantly.
"I am not your mom," Dre replies simply and shrugs his shoulders. Then, he replies, "I don't know. Am I supposed to?"
Melodie gives him a look. "Yeah! She's totally into you, honest. And she's fucking hot, didn't you notice? Just don't ever call her cute." She smirks, remembering.
"Why?" the Hispanic man asks. "How can you tell she is all into me?" He places his keys to his Shelby into his pocket while he waits for the two to get their tattoos done.
Melodie smiles, "She asked you if you worked out? That's girl-code for saying that she's noticing your muscles, which is totally good. And she asked to sit in the front seat, that's a great sign. And I know she's on the market for a boyfriend, we already talked about that. C'mon, I'll be sad if I get done and you're not making out, okay? You wouldn't want me to be sad, right?" She gets a wicked grin on her face.
Dre rolls his eyes. "Alright," he answers, "but I really haven't had a girlfriend since juvie." The kin shakes his head and smiles at his younger sibling.
After a fair old while, KL emerges from the booth. She looks a little tired, as if it's taken quite a lot of energy. A loose gauze is over her upper left arm. "Heya," she says, waving her right arm. "All done! Wasn't too bad at all." She smiles. "So, gonna do it?"
Melodie grins, and hops to her feet. "Yeah, I'm totally gonna! Rock on!" She goes off to discuss her design with the tattoo guy, who seems to understand what she's asking for. "And cute, not scary, yeah! A little cartoony is okay, sure." Money is exchanged, and she heads back to The Chair.
Dre watches to see as Melodie goes to the back of the shop. He is left alone with KL, in which he smiles bashfully. "I cannot wait to see it," he replies.
KL sits down next to him. "I'm not supposed to remove the dressing for a couple of days," she says. "I'll probably leave it a day and then..." her voice lowers. "...cheat." She grins conspiratorially. "So...um...what do you like to do that isn't remodel houses?"
"I like going to the gun club and out drinking," Andreas replies, "although not at the same time." He is quite for a long moment. It appears the man isn't used to talking so much. "Um... so, Melodie says that you... um, like me?" he asks.
The direct approach seems to take KL aback, rather. "Um..." she says. "It's kind of difficult for me. You're decorative enough, and you seem nice, even if you have a weavercart and, apparently, like weaver-bang-sticks." She actually blushes at this point. "I don't know. I've had like...one boyfriend ever. So I'm a bit...lost." She takes a deep breath. "Would you like to go out somewhere? Like, a date? Maybe we could find out if we like one another. Just...one thing. Don't do the whole...whatever the tribe wants...thing" Her voice is very low, preventing people from overhearing. "It creeps me out. If you're not interested, that's cool. If you are, that's cool too." She seems nervous, but determined. "Oh yeah, and I might not like guys at all. Just a warning." She blinks. "So, how about it?"
"I am not much of a dater," Andreas admits. "but hey... I'll go on a date. I haven't had any company for awhile." Then, he shifts in his chair, turning in order to see the Ahroun better. "I don't want to settle down with you or anything. Just a harmless date."
"Just a harmless date," KL agrees. "No expectation, no... you know." She smiles. "And it'll need to be within the next week, or it's keep-away time." A pause. "And I apologise in advance if I accidentally rip you into tiny pieces."
"You don't need to apologise to me," Dre says in amusement. "Melodie you might." Then he tilts his head to one side. "How about the movies tomorrow?" he asks.
"Oh cool," KL says, enthusiastically. "I never get to see movies. What's on? Can it have fights in it?" She nods her head energetically. "I like those sorts of movies."
"You like fantasy?" asks the kinfolk. "I hear this one movie based off some book is pretty good." He seems to hold his attention more now on the girl.
"Yes!" KL says. "The last two movies I've seen had lots of people with swords hitting each other. And one had a fawn in it too, which was cool." She considers. "OK. It's definitely on. Will you pick me up in the weaverthing?"
"It's called a car," Dre corrects. "and I can if you want me to?" He looks up, glancing back at the room they took Melodie into.
"Sure," KL says. "Easier than me getting into the city by myself." She follows his gaze. "No shouting. She'll be fine," she says, reassuringly.