Glass Walker Moot

[hazlogs]

Logfile from GM -- Salem.

It is currently 17:58 Pacific Time on Mon Aug 12 2002.

Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 90 degrees
Fahrenheit (32 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the
west at 12 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.04 and falling, and
the relative humidity is 27 percent. The dewpoint is 52 degrees Fahrenheit
(11 degrees Celsius.)

Nicholson Hall

	The main room of the Hall is well furnished with beautiful ash
floors. Wooden beams support the second floor, while giving the large home a
rustic appeal. The room has been divided into two sections, with a clear
pathway that leads into the kitchen. One half of the living room with
contains sufficient lighting, comfortable arm chairs, and end tables. All of
which are situated in front of living rooms main windows. Creating a perfect
environment for reading, or simply watching the world go by. The remaining
half of the room contains a couch, two plush chairs, and a coffee table in
front of an expansive stone fireplace. A spiral staircase is tucked into one
corner and leads up to the second floor.


"Mmmhm," Rina murmurs, kissing him again lightly, a smile felt on her lips.
"Fuck 'em."

A quick, businesslike double-knock is heard at the front door. Rap-rap.

John grins slowly, reaching up to pull the upside-down girl towards him.
"Get over her-- ahhh crap."

Rina draws away, laughing as she goes to answer. "Or not," she says,
checking and then opening the door, a slight flush on her cheeks as she
beams at Salem. "Come on in. You were just in time."

Salem takes off his sunglasses as he enters, one eyebrow on the rise. He
glances at his watch. "Actually, I'm a half hour early," he says, completely
deadpan.

John pulls himself up from a lounging position on the couch, with a groan.
Rubbing his face a little as he spots the Philodox, he sighs with
resignation, and waves a hand in a lazy salute. He goes back to lying down
in short order.

Salem dips his head toward the Elder. Moving toward the couch, he slips the
sunglasses into his jacket and then shrugs out of the leather garment.
"Wasn't interrupting anything, was I?" he asks John, dryly.

Rina clears her throat, and rubs at the back of her neck. "Nah. Want
somethin' to drink? Either of you?"

Lying on the couch and staring at the ceiling, John shakes his head slightly
with a sigh. "Could've been on time," he notes mildly, then lifts himself up
again. Legs lift, swing out, and flop to the floor. "No thanks,"

"Just water," Salem tells Rina. He's decided to be dull tonight, apparantly.
And he takes the other end of the couch, legs stretched out in front of him
and plenty of room between the two male Walkers for the Elder's fiance.

The large room's the same as always, for a moot - every piece of seating has
been pulled out and is gathered around a central point. This time, however,
it's not some circular pattern for a conference... but rather a cluster
around the gigantic TV and DVD-player that have been set up in front of the
empty fireplace.

The rumble of Francisco's muscle car comes up the driveway, and dies down.
Shortly thereafter, more knocking occurs at the door.

Rina makes her way to the kitchen, and comes back in short order, handing
Salem a glass of ice water. She promptly heads back to answer the door. Her
voice carries back to the two. "Hey, Frankie, c'mon in." Her grin is broad,
as she steps aside.

Another engine sounds not long after Francisco's arrival, and there is yet
another knock on the door, this one a bit tentative.

Francisco, vivid in the first different clothes he's worn since the
safehouse went, grins down at Rina. He's accompanied by Rhiannon, also
decked out. "Hi. Not too early, are we?"

Salem lifts his glass toward Rina in thanks, then takes a long drink of
chilled water. As other members of the tribe arrive, he tilts a glance
sidelong over at John. Briefly, there's a glint of humor there.

Rina beams at Francisco. "*You* look marvelous." The grin shifts to
Rhiannon. "And so do you. Sit, take a load off..." She smiles to Leala.
"C'mon in."

[Francisco]

	He's no longer a skinhead. Francisco's hair has grown out about half
an inch or so. Of course, he's already bleached and dyed it; this time, a
lovely intense blue.

	Apparently, he's also gone shopping. A pair of matte-black PVC jeans
and a blindingly white short-sleeved shirt, which is decorated with several
purple feathers dangling from a PVC strip across the chest, plus his
favorite buckled boots make up his new outfit. The boots have a new look: a
thin black pyramid-studded strap loops around the ankle and under the arch
of each. His plaid spiked bracelet is where it always is, on his right
wrist, and a dog's choke-chain has been wrapped around his left wrist. The
chain jingles when he moves.

	He looks like his mood and general well-being is improved, no doubt
due to more sleep and food lately. Also, he's got a new laptop in a soft
leather case. That probably has something to do with it, too.

Leala enters the room, finds an empty spot and sits down, smiling tightly to
the others in the room.

[Rhiannon]

	Rhiannon is fairly tall for a woman, standing only a little under
six feet while carrying herself with a stature that implies she thinks it's
more like six and a half. Her build is lithe, but even beneath her clothing
there's evidence of strength, and she moves with casual economy. She's
neither ugly nor particularly beautiful; if one is of a mind to appeciate a
strong chin and sharp features, she might be considered handsome, but even
that's a compliment. Her hair is a rich olive brown, unbound and falling to
a little below her shoulders, with the slight hint of a wave curling it
gently. Her eyes are almost black, and taken in with her hair and facial
features she seems to have some Latino heritage, although her skin is
typical of a mixed European background--pale, but not ghastly.

	In a side of her rarely seen, Rhiannon is dressed for a good time
out. A close-fit, short-sleeved, baby-tee in white sports a small picture of
a seemingly innocent, fluffy kitten sitting in a huge, green dog-food dish,
which is labeled 'KILLER'. Her dark denim shorts reach to about mid-thigh
and fit snugly, and her hiking shoes have been replaced with plain, black,
Vans deck shoes. The ever-present flannel shirt (this time blue and black
checkered) is tied around her waist, concealing the gun holstered at the
small of her back save for a small bump in the set of her clothing.

Quentin, in the other hand, is still in grey sweats.. although it appears
he's stolen a pair of sneakers from Jeremy somewhere along the line. He
steps along behind Francisco and Rina, stepping a bit to one side and
offering a tenative smile to the lot, "Hey everyone."

Rhiannon waves a hello to those assembled, pausing long enough to give Leala
a curious glance before moving to stand with Rina. "I've got some news about
the trial," she says once she's in easy distance, her low words not carrying
too far.

John folds his arms as he leans back in the couch. Resignation fights off
the urge to sulk, and he soon rises to greet the new arrivals. He's wearing
the same old street uniform as usual - minus coat or jacket. The black
t-shirt reveals that mangled mess of his right arm perhaps a little too much
to look at comfortably. "News, we share in full when we're all here.
Regardless of how trivial."

Ok, so this must be the place. Or if not, there will be some very fast
explaining to do for some disturbed inhabitant. Nevertheless, the lone
Gnawer ragabash draws up to the main doors of this huge house, feeling very
selfconscious all of a sudden. She knocks. And immediately brushes down the
rest of her clothes to get rid of some of the dust that's been kicked up
from her walking. And adjusts the bag in her hand as well.

Francisco comes in, jingling slightly from various ornaments, and sits
himself down in one of the plush armchairs, setting the laptop case down
beside him and stretching his long legs out, crossing them at the ankles.

Salem relaxes, or comes as close to the appearance of relaxation as he ever
does without intoxication or unconsciousness. Neither seems likely tonight.

Rina nods to Rhiannon quickly. "Salem said, yeah..." Then she goes to the
door again, greeting Z=Yi with a pleasantly surprised grin. "Hey! I din't
know you were coming!"

[Yi]

Vigilance is a shroud around her, ever watchful of her surroundings and the
beings around. Almond-shaped coffee brown eyes gaze out evenly for awhile,
though sometimes they turn distant in memory. A cascade of deep brown
highlighted hair layers off to outline the curves of her face and sometimes
mask her eyes. Scars peek through the hems of her clothing, hinting at the
wounds not quite healed that seem to cut much deeper into the spirit.
(+detail Yi's Scars) Always, she tries to keep herself behind a calm,
invisible mask, hiding away the darkest pits in her heart and mind. Her
clothes are aimed for a silent edge, humble yet hiding something. A black
long-sleeve shirt is covered with a waterproof zip-up navy blue jacket. Her
black pants are comfortable, held by a steel-buckled belt. Scuffed, worn-in
black sneakers make up her footwear. A Native American looking bear pendant
tied on a sinew thong around her neck is added as a finishing eccentric
touch. (+detail Yi's pendant)

Rhiannon turns to John. "Wasn't sure you'd want to be bothering anyone else
with it, since only a handful are involved anyways," she explains.

Yi pushes down the urge to jump the moment the door opens. Her grip on the
bag in her hands tightens a tinge with nervousness carefully hidden by the
quiet crinkle of the bag. She bows her head at Rina. "I am honored to be
invited," she says to her, awaiting some indication of where to go.

John inclines his head, with that ghost of a smile flickering briefly across
his face. "Best that everyone at least knows, and can be told the full
story. Full disclosure."

Rina's expression softens from the brilliant smile, and she steps aside,
motioning the Gnawer in and waving a hand at the couches and chairs. "C'mon
in... you want a beer or anything?"

As Rhiannon heads for Rina and Francisco heads to find a place to sit,
Quentin makes his way along through the other faces familiar and unfamiliar
to head along towards where Salem's seated.. alone now, on the couch. "Hey,"
he says with another quick smile, "How's everything going, sir?"

Francisco looks up in the process of getting out his new laptop (he couldn't
resist any longer), at Yi's voice. "Blades! Hi!" he calls, plainly happy to
see her.

Rhiannon nods to John. "Fair enough." She looks over at Yi with the same
sort of vague interest she had for Leala, but doesn't make a move to
introduce herself, allowing nature to take its course.

John simply stands before the gigantic TV set up in front of the fireplace.
His arms are folded and he scans the new arrivals thoughtfully, grim-faced
as he waits.

Salem gives the cub a thin twitch of a smile. "Not badly. Enjoy the cleaning
up?"

Yi clutches the bag carefully as to not disturb its contents. Again she
bows, perhaps stirring up all the politeness of a girl who's just come to a
high profile meeting of parents and business partners. The Gnawer steps in
gingerly and looks around carefully at the interior. Only to be startled a
little by someone calling her Other name. All these Walkers. No, there's no
hiding here. "Good evening," she says to the gathered, vaguely wondering if
she should take off her shoes. Then again, it doesn't look like the others
have. She'll keep the recently polished, slightly scuffed boots on.

Leala sits silently, watching the goings-on, taking a mild interest in those
she hasn't met before, but not offering any introductions herself. She
appears perfectly calm, except for the fact that she's pulling on a thread
at her white cuff.

Quentin's lips quirk upwards just a bit at the corner of his mouth, a slight
grin that doesn't fade after a moment. "It was okay. It was good to be,
like, doing stuff other than sitting around in the apartment or hanging out
behind you listening to things.. interesting, too. First time I've seen a
spirit." A bit of wonder in his eyes for a moment, though he chuckles at
himself even as he does, and settles down to the couch near where Salem's
seated. Not too close.

Salem rests the glass of water on the arm of the couch, keeping it there
with one hand. "When the moon's fuller, we'll take a field trip into the
Umbra." There's a bit of a glint in the Philodox's eye as he says this. The
Bone Gnawer, Yi, is generally ignored, but in his glance over the rest of
the gathering, he does note John standing and waiting by the television. His
expression sobers.

Rina leans against the wall by the door, and watches John take charge. A
faint smile tugs at one corner of her mouth.

Yi sort of stands there near one of the entrances of the massive room. The
massive house itself, overwhelming. There would be no way she could even
dream of living in someplace like this. She waits, vaguely remembering where
she is now, and then reminds herself of the bag in her hand. A clunky paper
bag, sure, but she checks inside it. The Gnawer does her best not to stick
out amongst the gathered.

Still scanning for a moment across the small group, John finally straightens
a little and clears his throat. Enough to give advance warning for silence.
"Everyone get comfy," he order lowly. An eye strays towards Rina and lingers
for a moment before he returns to regarding the Tribe... and Gnawer. "While
this is a Tribal Moot, Yi is our honoured guest," he announces smoothly.
"Others were invited but unable to attend." He takes a deep breath, looking
around. "Tonight's not going to be a formal affair. No Rites of opening.
We'll simply start with a few announcements I have for the Tribe, and a
little minor discussion of things that anyone else has to bring up." He
arches an eyebrow expectantly. "Anyone planning on doing that?"

Rhiannon catches John's eye, perhaps unnecessarily, and nods an affirmative.

Salem flicks a look over toward Yi when John calls her guest; his expression
is cool, even bland. Then his attention's back on the Elder. The glint of
humor, the faint smile he gave Quentin just a moment ago, all completely
gone. He's completely business.

Yi wets her lips, the mention of being an honored guest just making her
stiff with etiquette. She half-bows again, the bag crinkling again with the
action. "I brought this," she says with a swallow of her building tension,
opening the top of the bag. "It is... customary of bringing gifts when
invited to someone's house, is it not?" The Gnawer moves forward and offers
the bag to John.

Francisco, having closed his laptop when John began to speak, smiles at Yi.
She's so -cute-.

Leala remains silent at John's words, which is not really a surprise,
considering she hasn't spoken since arriving.

John smiles slightly as Yi approaches, and he accepts the bag with a low,
slow nod. Opening it up, he narrows his eyes at the metal box inside. The
faint scent of dog food or some kind of canned meat wafts out - smelt by the
more sensitive to these things - and when John pulls it out, he smiles a
little more widely. "Roach motel?" He enquires of Yi, peeking at it.

Yi steps back a pace as John takes the bag. She meets his nod with another
bow. "Yes. The roaches are from the university. They are..." she tries to
remember the name. "Madasgar roaches? They're big." She ducks her head. Her
pronunciation was probably all wrong.

Francisco laughs. "Hissing roaches? Very cool."

Quentin's eyebrows raise at the offer, but before he can say anything John
starts to talk.. so he falls silent, respectfully, and buries both hands
between his knees to keep from fidgeting any. Noticing the Gnawer's unease
at all this attention, he flashes over a quick grin, before dropping back
into his 'good attentive student' posture. It almost succeeds.

The Walker Elder offers Yi a wink, then clears his throat again. He lowers
the 'roach motel' to the floor, near the fireplace. "Thanks, Yi. The gift is
highly appreciated. Now. Anyone else?"

Salem's eyebrows rise at the Gnawer's gift, but if he approves, he doesn't
deign to show it. Calmly, the halfmoon sips his ice water, his posture still
a facade of casualness.

Yi nods again, stepping back to her place quickly now that she's gone and
presented her piece to them. At least it was well received. The biologists
at the uni didn't exactly appreciate their display subjects gone missing. Yi
smiles vaguely at Francisco. She remembers him too.

Rina's smile softens a little, as Yi presents her gift; the expression is
touched with something wry, almost wistful. She comes over to the chairs and
couches, seeking out a place to sit at one end of the arc.

There is a knocking upon the door from outside, a light rapping, followed by
a murmur of hushed voices.

Rina glances to John and slides from her seat, going to get the door. She
opens it, offering a mercurial smile. "Yo."

Both Jeremy and Alicia are at the door, chattering away together. As the
door opens to reveal Rina, the Gaian strides in first, offering a quick
grin. "Hey you." She says, followed by a soft. "Hi" from the kin.

Yi follows Rina's back with her eyes, looking towards the doorway and
tensing a little. The revealing of Jeremy and Alicia ebbs the stress away.
Yi leans back against the wall she hugs silently.

John does a quick scan, greeting Tribesmate and Packmate with a nod each.
"Have a seat," he murmurs to them, before looking around at the others. "So
it's just Rhiannon?" He looks to the US Marshall. "You'd better take the
floor. Explain... everything, please."

Rina offers Alicia a smile, and flashes Jeremy a quick and warmer grin.
"Come in, have a seat, party just started," she murmurs.

Rina is likely gonna have to do the same at some point, but she's just gonna
listen anyway.

Francisco settles down to listen to everything, paying intent attention, but
not speaking.

Jeremy ambles his way over to Yi and slips down next to her, drawing a knee
to his chest, staring over his crossed arms as black dipped bangs sprawl
into his face. He is looking extra gothy today for this meeting.

Alicia flops down into a vacant chair and crosses her legs, leaning back
with a widened grin on her face. Her attention turns towards Rhiannon,
curiously tilting her head.

Quentin, settled in on the couch beside Salem, raises one hand and flashes a
grin over in greeting to the newcomers of Jeremy and Alicia.. and then leans
in a bit to murmur curiously to the aforementioned cliath, "Uh.. I don't
want to sound stupid, but.. what's the big thing about the roaches?"

Salem lifts his glass of ice water toward the new arrivals, then gives
Quentin a quizzical look. He answers quietly. "Our tribal patron. The
cockroach. I'll explain in detail later."

John winks at Quentin as he moves off to one side - towards Rina - to give
Rhiannon space to speak in.

Rina steps over to slide an arm around John, leaning on him casually as she
watches Rhiannon. Her eyes are dark, intent, her expression serious.

Rhiannon steps forward so she's separated from the sidelines and looks first
to those she doesn't know--Yi and Leala--and introduces herself. "Rhiannon.
US Marshal. Kin." Her lengthy description complete, she moves on to far more
interesting things. "Back in June, a drug dealer named George Costas was
shot and killed in his apartment. You might've read about it in the paper.
Our very own Rina was arrested ostensibly on the charge of murder, because
the cops had a witness who could place her at the scene. However, she had an
alibi and so got released at arraignment." Here the Marshal pauses,
surveying the room to make sure everyone's following so far.

Quentin blinks, his expression a touch dubious as he regards the other
woman.. and then shakes his head and turns back to watch the goings-on,
allowing the subject to drop until later when he can explain in full.
Mercifully he doesn't catch the wink from the Big Cheese, listening instead
to Rhiannon's talk of murder. A frown begins to form.

Salem's expression turns solemn again as Rhiannon starts to speak; he
focusses his attention on her completely.

Leala remains motionless, although she does seem interested in Rhiannon's
words, and her face was particularly thoughtful when the woman introduced
herself as a US Martial.

Yi blinks a few times, once at Jeremy's change of clothing taste. The other,
at the mention of US Marshal. Crap! Now all she needs is INS to pop up
somewhere. She swallows once, saying nothing but keeping a rather close eye
on the policewoman. Who cares if she's kin?

Satisfied that no one has any questions, Rhiannon continues. "There were
some issues with one of the arresting officers, an annoying twerp named
Jackson Schulte. His background's hazy and he might be an undercover Fed,
although it's hard to tell. He was pretty gun-ho on nailing Rina for the
rap, but he dropped that song and dance as soon as new information came in.
The police received an anonymous tip that pinned another drug dealer, Dylan
Seagrave, for the murder. This time they had a murder weapon and a means of
entry. The witness who'd ID'd Rina the first time around rolled on Dylan,
and confessed to being a paid accomplice. Dylan was arrested, indicted, and
has been on trial for the past few weeks. His father has mob connections,
particularly in their home town of Salt Lake City. Russian mob." She stops
again, letting that tidbit sink in.

Jeremy nods his head, knowing this much already. Running a hand back through
his dark hair, he puffs out a soft breath, fingering his collar lightly.

Salem shows no surprise at Rhiannon's news. Not yet, anyway. Grim and dour,
he sips his water and listens, sitting back on the couch with his legs
stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles, almost loungingly.

John just stands like some kind of silent sentinel, an arm slipping
protectively around his fiance's waist.

And now, for the rest of the story... "The trial ended very hush-hush on
Friday. Dylan changed his plea to guilty, and his sentencing hearing is this
week. But the rumor around the courthouse and the office is, the hearing
date is a smokescreen. He might be turning state's evidence. I won't know
for sure unless I hear something else, or, I get the dubious honor of
packing him away in some safehouse." Given Dylan's mob connections, the
significance of this statement is weighty.

Yi still watches the marshal warily. Whether at the news she gives, or just
at the woman in general, is a bit of a puzzle. At the end of the trial
story, Yi slowly draws out a breath she had been holding.

Salem simply grimaces.

John speaks up, grim. "Is there any way we can influence negotiations?"

Rina's eyes are narrowed slightly. She says nothing, her expression sinking
into familiar grim lines.

Rhiannon looks both resigned and a little tired. "Probably not. The less I
hear, the more I become convinced the FBI's gotten involved, since witness
protection is a very Marshal Service thing. I've gotten less reliable
information that Dylan and daddy had a falling-out, and that's when Dylan
rang up the DA and agreed to rat out people who would happily eat his heart
for breakfast."

Yi makes no comment about eating hearts for breakfast.

John looks to one side, frowning. "Mmhmm," he murmurs softly. "There any
more?"

Rhiannon shakes her head, and steps back, moving to stand next to Francisco.

Salem looks unsurprised with Rhiannon's news, but still displeased about it.
He shakes his head slightly, expression pensive.

Yi sort of looks at the gathered and their reactions, and then to John and
the big TV screen. Wow, such luxury. Another brief glance goes to Rhiannon,
and then the Gnawer is looking to the Walker elder. Geez, what a depressing
crowd.

John nods a few times as he takes the floor again. "S'getting on. That's all
I was aware of that we needed to be updated on. Everything else I may do via
the Tribal voicemail. You know how to access it." That last sentence doesn't
seem to encompass the two non-Walkers, then. The Elder takes another breath
in and looks over his shoulder at the TV and DVD player. "Well. I, uh... I
guess we play this thing," he mutters, turning and crouching to turn the
equipment on.

Alicia leans forward a bit and peers intently, blowing out a soft breath.
Propping her chin up in the palm of her hand, she waits, patiently, almost
fearfull.

The DVD spins up for a second and a screen appears. "Password, Jeremy?" it
blinks in big black letters on a white background. A 'virtual keyboard' is
on the screen below that word and a textbox awaits being filled with the
password to unlock the DVD.

John looks over his shoulder at Jeremy - already lost. "I'll... take a seat.
You cool to handle this, Jer'?"

Rising up from his seat, Jeremy ambles over to the TV, dark trench coat
billowing about his willowed frame. Kneeling down slowly, he slides out a
hand and rapidly punches in a seven digit number into the keypad, soon
watching the screen blur away and dissolve into the picture.

Once entered, without any opening menu, a new scene appears on the screen.
Roger in his apartment, looking a few years younger then he did when he
died. Roger stands from the couch of his apartment. The camera and tripod
mount system tracks him automatically and seems to keep centered at Roger's
center mass at all times, getting most of his body in frame at any given
moment. He turns away from the camera and picks up his glock. Aims it as his
own head and pulls the trigger. *click* He sighs and tosses the gun away.
"I'm a disgrace. I came here expecting a difference, all I got was pissed
off elders who want me dead but are too polite to do anything about it." He
paces a bit, camera following him, "Whatever, I'll do whatever I have to. I
don't matter, only. Whatever. If I have to die, I'll die for her. Gaia,
mother of us all, even me I'd die for you." He then leans over and picks up
a remote control from the chest, and with a button push the camera goes to
black.

Rhiannon looks at the assembled equipment with interest, then lets her eyes
roam about the room, surveying the expectations and reactions of those
assembled. She stops a little longer than usual on Yi, not having missed the
Gnawer's earlier scrutiny, but doesn't give her anything more disconcerting
that a half-friendly smile before she looks back to the TV.

Rina chews on her lower lip, and turns away, pacing into the kitchen.

Quentin shifts in to lean against his knees, both elbows and forearms
resting there and hands clasping together as he watches the screen flicker
to life.. and at the sight of the man with the gun he blinks a few times,
brow furrowing deeply. "Wha.." He catches himself before talking, biting his
lip and listening in disturbed silence.

John stands for a moment, looking at the screen, then at Rina. And back
again. Torn for a few moments, he exhales and follows Rina quietly.

A moment later the screen comes to life again, Roger looks about the same, a
bit longer hair perhaps and a rougher beard. He is lying back on the couch
now, looking to be almost high. "I just smoked pot for the first time." He
grins and laughs, "I figured I was getting so uppity with all the speed, I
needed to balance out. It's cool, a totally different state of mind. I don't
hear voices, I don't see things. I think so much I can hardly think. It's
amazing. I feel almost normal. I'm not though. I'm a fucking god. A demon.
Or both. Shit, if I went to some third world country, I could take over and
be their messiah or some shit. I'd make them sacrifice cows to me and I'd
eat like a king. A dirty third world king, but a king." A pause. "Fuck! What
the hell am I talking about? I'm so fucking stoned. Whatever." He reaches up
with the remote, and again darkness.

Jeremy takes a few steps away from the television, letting out a breath. He
flops back down next to Yi, even wrapping an arm around her for positive
reinforcement.

Yi misses Rhiannon's smile a bit, catching a fleeting part until the TV
shows Roger. At which point, she stiffens at the sight of the gun to the
head, and even slits her eyes in anticipation. Click. Nothing. Right... the
Gnawer's breath slows from its quickening. She looks at Jeremy momentarily,
confusion writing itself on her features at his touch, but not specifically
protesting it at the moment. Okay... yeah.

Rina leans on the kitchen counter with both hands, her head slightly bowed,
eyes veiled by a few shocks of her hair. Her expression is taut with pain,
as she watches the TV over her shoulder. She doesn't make a sound; the girl
might as well not be present, save for the dark, haunted eyes watching
Roger.

Alicia presses her lips together and releases a loud sigh. Absently, she
itches her arm, where its pocked with scars from the past.

Salem leans over, setting his mostly-empty glass down on the floor near his
feet. Then he leans back, arms folded across his chest as he watches the
screen, at the images of his dead packmate. Amazingly, it's only been a
little over two months.

Leala frowns a little at the screen, lips tight, breathing softly.

Another scene, Roger in the kitchen stir frying something in a wok with his
back to the camera. "My mother called. Told me she'd support me. I'd never
have to do anything for money. She'll keep sending the checks and paying my
bills. All I have to do is charge everything to her credit card. Seems in
exchange all she wants is the chance to start over again. Without me. She
loves me, and wishes I was never born." He stops moving for a moment,
staring intently at the wall. "DAMN IT ALL!" He screams and knocks the wok
to the floor, covering himself in burning meats and vegetables and sauce. He
doesn't seem to care about, nor feel the pain. He then, growling in a
crinos-like fashion still in homid throws his head forward onto the ceramic
cook top, and the sizzle of burning skin can be heard audibly. Eventually he
screams an elongated cry of pain and rips his face away from the burner. He
turns and looks at the camera, breathing deeply, half his face burned like
the Phantom of the Opera. "This is what I am. I'll always be. You can only
see half of me at any time. The inside or the outside. If the two were to
ever mix well, on that day the world around me would burn. Like I burn." The
less severe parts of the burn start to heal up even in the homid form,
attesting to his being a metis. Roger then, tears streaming from only his
burnt eye over temporarily ruined skin turns and calmly turns off the stove,
and opens the cabinet reaching in for a pill container. He then opens it,
downs the entire contents, and throws the bottle in the trash. He walks away
from the span the camera can reach and when he does so, it cuts to black
again.

John wraps arms around Rina, murmuring quietly to the kin as they both look
at the TV. He turns her a little to acknowledge the viewing. Though the
Ahroun looks away from the screen as the metis recounts his mother's words.

Small muscles in Salem's jaw clench. He does not, however, look away. Not
for the briefest second does he look away.

Jeremy bites his lip hard and sucks in a slow breath, squeezing his eyes
shut for a few minutes to block out the image.

Yi clenches her jaw tight at the burning, still saying nothing, still only
daring to keep breathing shallowly.

Rhiannon ducks her head a little, although her expression doesn't express
much more than faint regret. She looks up again quikjly enough, and
continues to watch, her eyes calm.

The delay between scenes is minimal. There appears to have been no
editing... just entry after entry. On the rooftop the next scene appears,
this time from the view point of a more distant camera on another roof. In
the distance, Roger appears on his own roof. He pushes a button on his
remote and the view chances to a much closer camera. "Excellent." Are his
only words and with another button push the scene turns black again.

Yi takes a mental note of the view from the rooftop there. She'll find the
camera later, perhaps.

Leala looks vaguely impressed for a moment, but it passes quickly.

Jeremy mms to himself after watching that scene. Nothing new to him, he
lives there.

The next scene is back in the apartment, Roger sitting on the couch again.
"I fought Rides-Fire yesterday. I wasn't thinking and lost soundly then I
lost myself and went bye-bye in the brain again. I'm lucky to be alive. I
have to apologize and thank him sometime. I, and the Garou race, owe him
that much." He sighs and continues, "The Walkers seem to be leaving town,
one by one and all at once. I'm the only one left. Me and Rik and he can't
be counted on for day to day things, just for when shit hits the fan. He's a
fucking burn out, I hope never to be like that. Dakota, Daisy, Bailey, Salem
everyone in some way or another has left. That makes me the eldest Glass
Walker in the Sept. But I'm far from elder of anyone. We'll see where this
leads, hopefully some Walkers will hear of the vacancies here and will want
to help reestablish our rightful place here. St. Claire isn't complete
without a family. We'll see we'll see." Click. Black.

Salem shifts his weight slightly on the couch, though if he feels any guilt
for skipping town, he doesn't let it show on his face.

Quentin's gaze, otherwise focused on the screen, briefly flickers over to
look at Salem with a shift of his body.. no sign of what he was thinking,
though, before looking back to the DVD playing.

Yi doesn't break her gaze from the screen, even as Salem's name is
mentioned. She wets her lips again, even if her mouth has gone dry already.

Next scene. Roger stands, pacing back and forth fuming. "Lucca! FUCKING
LUCCA! That name will haunt me to the next twenty lives! God damn! She is a
retard bastard child of that which carries the essence of stupidity and
uselessness. I have ten times her skills, knowledge, common sense, combat
training and experience, and not to mention I live in the real fucking
world. Not that fantasy place she seems to think we live in. She is so
frustrating. There is a challenge, I win, but because no one wants /ME/ to
be elder things are twisted around against me like Lucca is somehow a better
choice. I know what I am and a half-deaf, blinded, leg-less, anemic dwarf of
a Metis would be a better choice then that mental midget. Damn her. Fucking
damn fucking her fucking god damn it! Gah!" Click. Darkness.

Alicia furrows her brows at that scene, leaning forward and intrigued. She
heard of that name before, thinking maybe she even met her. Ah, yes, the one
obsessed with Poke'Mon and arcade games.

John actually smiles a little - a fond look at the memory of Lucca and
Roger's constant bickering.

Yi remembers Lucca. She remembers that little incident with the spaghetti...
and the spit. She bites her lip in effort not to smirk.

Light once more and Roger appears on the couch. This time the camera is
zoomed in and closer in on his face. "More Walkers have been appearing. One
named John came into town and he seems to be just what we need. I don't know
something about him. I can smell potential on him. Now watch him turn out to
be more fucked up then I am. Heh. Well, just wanted to remind myself, and
who ever watches this after my passing that we're here for a reason. We have
a world to save. Not just for ourselves. For everyone. Humans as well as the
animals and all other things. All are of Gaia. To forget a part of her, is
to forget all of her. To forget Gaia is to forget yourself. Don't walk this
path-- you may as well already be dead if you do." He stands and walks off,
camera goes to black.

Rhiannon smiles, maybe a touch triumphantly, at those words.

John's faint smile fades away slowly. He leans forward a little to inspect
the screen - and Roger - more closely. Trying to pinpoint a time, perhaps.

Yi's brow arches at Roger's words. She steals a glance to John. It's not a
long glance, but significant for her. Then her eyes are back on the screen.

Roger appears in view and in his lap is a remote control truck. "Like it?"
He asks the camera with a broad smile; he looks wired like a speed junky. "I
finally finished it. The first one. The prototype. The Bombarding remote ATV
detonation system. Or Brads. Ain't he cute? Like his daddy. It's been a
while since my last entry... we're going into the sewers tonight and I'm
bringing this along. It's got a light, a camera, can traverse the sewers
relatively quietly... and best of all will kill absolutely every last mother
fucker anywhere near it. I'm such a genius. Really... I am." Another genuine
smile and remote click to darkness.

One side of Salem's mouth quirks upwards, very slightly.

John just shakes his head at that, stifling a soft groan. "Bloody truck," he
mutters.

Yi again, makes no comment save the glimmer in her eyes. Now who's going to
build those explosive trucks? She sighs, softly.

The next scene is... by the looks of it, quite soon after the last.

Another scene emerges, and this time Roger looks in pretty bad shape, burns
covering him. "Ok. Sewer trip was a mixed success. I killed that thing they
called Deadpet but there were sideeffects. Or so I gather... I wasn't really
all there at the time. John broke my toy, said a bane was hiding in it. Not
to mention everyone being caught on fire when I blew deadpet up. Whoo boy.
Oh, and John. Walks-Thin-Ice... well, I wouldn't say anything to him up
front... but I already consider him our elder. Daisy may go through the
motions, but when it comes to it... John is the one I look to. He's like a
brother I could never have ever had. I trust him and in some odd way I feel
that trust is returned. Not like a trust of a friend though, I don't think.
Like a trust that I would never let him down... a trust that I would die
before I would break my word to him. A trust that I would die for him. His
ideals are my own. On a different note, Lucca appears to have left town.
Thank god. They turned to her to make our phone system too. It looks like
some kind of diseased bastard child of a crack-addicted pop-up toaster. I
could have made a more effective system deaf and blindfolded. Good
riddance." Darkness.

Now that gives the Ahroun pause. His face might as well be a stone mask, for
all the expression it belies. Though he does swallow and look from the
screen for a moment, at the vows of trust. He gives a half-hearted noise of
amusement at the note on Lucca.

Salem grunts something that sounds like agreement, his gaze flicking
sidelong toward John.

Rina turns a little in John's arms, reaching without looking to rest a hand
against his cheek, reassuringly.

"Holy shit!" Roger appears again standing, "Salem is back! The son of a
bitch came back! Fuckin' one eyed demon. And without Sally around I wonder
who El Diablo will be fucking this time. Of course... that's just
unsubstantiated gossip. But damn... Salem. He's different too. But that's to
be expected. Nothing ever stays the same about him. Tribe, moon. Shit, I'd
not be surprised if he renounced his breed and suddenly started over as a
lupus. He owes me... I wanted to turn his ass in for lying to the Sept when
he faked his death. But no, I kept quiet. I hope I made the right decision.
He seems in the right. I hope he is. He gives an image of being some brand
new Garou. But I pushed his buttons like only a Galliard can to push him to
the edge and not over it... and he did well. All the Salem, half the
calories. So to speak."

John arches an eyebrow, looking now at Salem with a quizzical expression.

Alicia laughs softly at that, glancing over to Salem with a thumb's up.

Quentin gives a start at that, blinking over towards Salem with a rather
startled look.. he bites his tongue again, though, and turns back to see
what's next.

Yi at this point does look towards Salem. This surly looking Garou, a former
Ronin? There's something to chew on. The ragabash goes thoughtful, turning
back to the TV.

Salem's face tightens. He's too dignified to squirm, but he _does_ mutter,
rather indignantly, "I _never_ fucked Sally MacKay."

Rhiannon covers a smile with one her hands, looking away and trying to
appear nonchalant.

John tilts his head up, smiling at that reaction. But the video continues
before the issue can be debated.

Next scene. Roger sitting on the couch, looking quite serious. "Ok... I
think its time. Those in this room that know me. Those who I have met now or
will meet down the road. Thank you for being here. The rest that don't know
me, thank you anyway... I made this DVD to live on so to speak. If you are
watching it you must have the password way back at the beginning. I'll be
giving the password to Jeremy, so he'll probably be the one to unlock this.
No one could ever guess or crack it, so I've no worries of any veil
breaches. Anyways. Moving on. I am Roger Cohen. Howls-When-Dreaming. Metis
and Galliard. Glass Walker. I was born to parents who felt their love
warranted a child despite our laws. My father died for the crime and my
mother took down an entire pack of Spiral dancers single handedly to earn
back the respect she once had. I showed no signs of being a metis at birth.
Hell, if I didn't tell you, it'd be a while before you found out for
yourself. But I know what the problem is. In my head. It's all mixed up.
This blessing. This curse. I am the smartest man in this entire city. I know
this to be true... but I'm dangerous. I could with the slightest effort,
blow us all to hell. And honestly, I wouldn't mind too much." Darkness.

Yi simply swallows again. Damn, she should have accepted the drink offer.
The Gnawer drops her eyes, thinking of Roger and how little she knows about
him.

Jeremy perks up a bit when he hears his name, but doesn't make much of a
reaction. He listens patiently, then runs a hand through his hair.

The Walker Elder's smile remains despite the sobering new entry, but with a
turn for the grim. He gives the TV screen a silent nod of approval.

Francisco shakes his head a little, his expression bemused, but doesn't take
his eyes off the screen.

Salem shifts his position on the couch. He eyes the video ghost with a
rather sour expression. He shakes his head slightly as the screen goes dark
again.

A few more scenes come and go. Trivial and not so trivial events go by.
Roger changes little in appearance, always in a suit... always looking like
the corporate being he lived like. In one of them, Roger recites some
information he feels the Glass Walkers will need. "Ok all. Just going over
some things that have been forgotten recently. Bioelectric tags for the
doctors in the hospital. Jeremy will know what to do with them, you'll just
need to front the money to get them and the manpower to get the doctors
under your power without them knowing. Secondly, the bombsuit. Good idea,
but impractical application to it. I love that thing, but I know you can
improve on it Jeremy. The problem is, if it gets knocked around the
calibration could whack out and kill the person wearing it. So, you need to
create a larger version of it. A large ring of explosives. Think of
something five feet in radius that can be carried in, dropped, and detonated
up and outwards without any possible injuries of the person inside. Just a
thought. Oh, and women. You people need to get laid. John's already taken
care of in that department. The rest of you, get some kin and get fucking.
Consider it an order." Darkness.

The couple in the kitchen alternately clear throats or blush.

Leala raises an eyebrow and then scowls softly.

Jeremy blinks his eyes, then blushes. "... Um.... errr..." Wow, thats
uncomfortable.

Francisco laughs to himself, under his breath.

Rhiannon sighs and shakes her head, looking amused and exasperated all at once.

Salem merely snorts. Roger's already dragged his potential sex life out into
the open.

Quentin's eyebrows both leap upwards.. and then he clears his throat a bit
and shifts back against the couch at that last part. He's not blushing.
Honest.

Yi is lucky, being spared this bold sting by not being part of the Walkers.
However, she does look around at the various reactions of the tribe members.
And again, hides a smirk.

Then, after about twenty minutes of other scenes one comes up that looks
quite different. Oh, the couch is the same and all... but Roger is
different, the way he was when he died. Short spiky hair. T-shirt and jeans.
Looking almost... happy. He lifts the remote to the camera and it zooms in
to just show his face. "This is about all of you. John. Rina. Alicia. Salem.
Leala. Francisco. Dizzy. Sophia... my wonderful little Sophia who has so
much potential... Kaz. Sepdet. Yi... Yi. Last but certainly not least...
Jeremy. I'm dead, man. I just know by this point... if you are watching this
far, I'd have stopped you by now if I were still alive. So... well. Death.
Hrm... what do I do now that I'm dead? I supposed I'll just lay there a bit.
Or maybe not? I mean, who is to say I wasn't cut into pieces, or eaten by a
bane, or blown up in one of my own amazing explosions. Who is to say but all
of you. John and Rina. I love you both. But John, you take care of her or I
swear to god I'll come back and break you... you know I would. And challenge
for Fostern you lazy son of a bitch! Kaz is right next door, what are you
waiting for?" A grin. "Alicia, fuck girl. You'd one crazy bitch. But in a
good way. I trust you are going on well without me, and I fully expect you
to have written a song for me... just wouldn't be a worthwhile death without
Alicia spinning a tune. Then there is Salem. I want you, in full view of
everyone right now... to genuinely smile for me. It would mean a lot. ...

After scowling briefly at Roger's comment to himself and his fiance - who he
kisses on the hair - John looks to Salem. The pause is lengthy on that
video.

Oh dear. Now there's a nigh-impossible last request, at least in Quentin's
mind, and he turns to regard Salem with a curious expression.. curious,
though there's a thoughtfulness behind his eyes.

Alicia glances over to Salem and GRINS widely herself, brows raising. "C'mon
Salem honey, show us that killer sexy girl snagging smile."

Yi lifted her eyes when even -she- got mentioned in the DVD. That was a
surprise. But more of a surprise is Roger's words to John, and then to
Salem. Well... the ragabash looks at the Walker philo.

"Jesus bloody fucking Christ on a _polearm_." Salem pinches at the bridge of
his nose, then gives the ceiling a resigned glower. "Cohen, you mad bastard.
_Fine_." So, yes. He smiles. Last request of a dead packmate, after all. And
it's about as genuine as it can possibly be, considering how much the metis
put him on the spot.

Roger looks expectantly at the camera for quite a while, still - evidently
expecting the struggle to be a more powerful one. "...Thanks, I knew you
could do it. Leala, I knew you only briefly but already I call you my sister
and packmate. Keep taking pictures, show others that film can dazzle you
with the wyld as well as the weaver. I know you can. Frankie. Skyscraper.
Thanks for being there when we need you. We can all trust in and count on
you for all things... /true/ dependendability is rare thing to find and
again I thank you for it. Dizzy Dizzy Dizzy. Damn girl. I know you are like
a step away from your rite of passage if you haven't already taken it. So if
you haven't, fucking take it already. Demand to. Right now. I'm waiting..."
There's a similar pause as to Salem's request. "...Ok, either you're already
a cliath, or just demanded the right to become one. Or, hell, you might not
even be there... but that's nothing to consider right now. Moving on.
Sophia. I hope you liked your rite of passage. It took me and Cockroach a
good while to take care of crafting it for you. It should have been
illuminating. Don't let me down girl, I expect the world from you. Kaz. Fuck
shit ass cock bitch pussy. Did I cover your vocabulary well enough?" A
genuine smile, "We never got to do that challenge... but I still don't
concede it to you. The next time we meet, and we will meet again. We'll have
that boasting match, so be ready for it. When John finally challenges you
for Fostern, be gracious and say 'yes'. You know he deserves it. Sepdet. I
doubt you're there, but even if you aren't. Did I live up to what I needed
to? I know what you planned for me once, but you never went through with it.
I hope I deserved that from you. Yi. Learn how to use that gun. Don't let it
go to waste. I trust you. We're kindred souls, you know I'm sure you know
what I mean. Finally... Jeremy."

John just stares at the screen for a little while, at all the Challenge
talk. He murmurs under his breath - in mild disbelief - "You cocky little
shit. How th--" He pauses and just shakes his head again.

Jeremy blinks his eyes a few times and leans forward, eyes widening behind
the thin wired glasses. He is holding his breath, nearly choking on it. Eyes
are wet, nervous.

Yi looks a little surprised, not just because of the out of character
Salem-smile, but that she gets a mention in the DVD. Kindred souls? And the
gun. Err... yeah. The one she gave to Nevada? Right. The ragabash blinks.

"...Jeremy. My protg. My brother and son and father and friend. My rock in
the middle of the raging ocean. The one I left it all to. Take on what I
have done in my life and continue with it. The Walkers are going to need a
whole lot of help with me gone and they are going to need you especially.
Feel free to live in my apartment. My mother pays for everything blindly, so
it's be a totally free living. Nice huh, feel free to take over my room...
make my home into your home. Do whatever you need... just don't sell my god
damn game systems. They are fucking classics and I swear no amount of money
is worth my original colecovision! Ahem. Anyways, Jer. I trust you with this
responsibility and honor. This privilege to be chosen to follow me. I may
sound like some egotist... but really. Who at the sept can do what I have
done and could do? Who else? No one... no one except you Jer. Make me proud
and show them that just because you don't have fangs... doesn't mean you
don't have a wicked bite. And move on. Without me, you are still you. I
didn't desert you. I didn't run away. I died... we all die. The question is
why and how? I hope I died like a Garou. Like a Glass Walker. Did I?" His
eyes are almost looking watery at this point, a questioning expectation on
his face. "Did I?" He sighs once more and the camera zooms out to show all
of Roger once more. "Thank you all. Gaia bless." With this he leans down and
picks up an acoustic guitar and rests it in his lap.

"Pay attention, Jer," John murmurs softly, at the words on fangs.

Jeremy bites his lip as tears spill down his cheeks. He takes a moment, then
lifts himself up, turning and heading into one of the back rooms, choking on
a sob as he presses his face into his hands. It seems that he wasn't
expecting any of that. For the first time in his life, he feels like a
person, not a toy.

Yi gazes after Jeremy. Then back to the group. She takes another deep breath
to calm down those emotions that threaten to come up, and runs a hand
through her hair.

Salem is listening, but not looking at the screen anymore. That smile was
damned brief, and now he's just rubbing at the side of his face, fingertips
tracing the array of scar tissue below and around the dead eye.

Leala looks sadly at Jeremy as he leaves the room. At least he got to know
how Roger felt about him, however.

Francisco rests his chin in his hand, looking thoughtful and somber, leaning
back in his chair. His glance follows Jeremy as the kin leaves, and he sighs
very quietly.

At the words concerning Jeremy, Quentin looks over towards him.. half
raising one hand before dropping it back to his knee and twisting his
fingers together. The apple of his throat rises and falls in a hard swallow,
and he looks back to watch the screen in silence again. His expression
closed, but thoughtful and more than a little sad.

The couple in the kitchen fade out of sight, behind counters and cupboards.

Rhiannon watches Jeremy go, and sighs a little. She makes no move, though,
and continues to watch impassively.

The video continues as Roger picks up the guitar. "This is for you Ellie.
I'm with you now... I love you." He moves into an original piece of music,
no vocals. It is a moving art piece, starting calm and quiet, blowing gently
like sand in a breeze. Then moves on to a faster more organically changing
rhythmic section of high notes that almost calls out in Roger's rage. His
expert playing continues to another gentle section, but still tinged with
that same rage... just not as purely evident. Finally it moves into
something Ellie played once for Roger at the bar... a fast moving, foot
stomping Irish-style folk song. With a flute and beautiful dancing red head
it would be perfect. But that dancing red head is dead, and so is Roger. As
the piece comes to a close Roger sets the guitar down once more. "I'm sorry
I had to go and die on you. I promise I'll never do it again. You all take
care... I figure this will end the DVD, no need to go on after this. If
something important happens, hell... I might just start over. But our Caern
has been taken by the Dancers. It's being defiled as we speak... and I swear
that all my being will go into reclaiming our home. I've done much work. The
Safehouse is a Safebomb, let the fuckers try to take that one. I've made
many toys. Kaz's bomb suit works beautifully, just needs to be used
properly... My most beautiful achievement. I expect such fits of genius from
you as well Jeremy. Don't let me down. Good bye every one. This has gone on
long enough. To the Walkers of St. Claire, Walk on. To the rest of you
all... you were all my family. Don't let something silly like a different
tribe get between you. Tribes were our ideas Garou-made concepts. Gaia
didn't separate us and say, 'Hey. I would rather you all didn't get along
and practically caused my destruction.' Tribes aren't the end all be all. Be
a Garou before you are a Glass Walker or a Bone Gnawer or a Child of Gaia or
whatever... we're all Children of Gaia by any name. The tribe name Children
of Gaia is just redundant. No offense, you reflect your tribe's ideals well.
Oh, and Salem. Remember what I said to you with the tea after you finished
digging Owen's den? It's still true. We overcome. We always overcome. Rock
on everyone. This is Roger Cohen, Howls-When-Dreaming, Cliath Galliard of
the Glass Walkers here in St. Claire and metis. Signing off forever." Roger
slowly, finally, raises up the remote control towards the camera, nods once
with a rare full smile, and with a press of a button, the screen goes black
and comes back up with the screen asking for a password again.

Alicia lets out a slow breath and wipes at her eyes a bit, obviously moved
by the speech in general. She sucks up a breath and reaches over, snagging
Frankie's hand, giving it a squeeze.

Yi drops her eyes, closing them for a long minute. When they reopen, her
eyes are no longer on that verge of tears. The Gnawer ragabash just nods
one, slowly, to the words of Roger. "We got the caern back," she says softly
to the TV. "As promised."

The little Gathering appears to be Elderless, and down two kin, at least.
And the screen sits there, white with black text, blinking. Waiting. That's
all folks.

Leala gets up, walks to the door and lets herself out into the night, not a
backward glance nor word spoken the entire evening. A moment later, an
engine rumbles close, stops, and then retreats.

Salem exhales a long, slow breath, then looks up. His face is a mask again,
revealing damned little. He reaches down, reclaims his glass, and drains
most of the rest of the water from it. The ice has melted away.

Francisco squeezes Alicia's hand in return, glancing at her with the
faintest smile.

Alicia twines her fingers with Frank's and gives another good squeeze,
letting the pair of hands dangle between them.

Yi finally pushes up off the wall. There's a fleeting moment as her
uneasiness again shows, wondering if this is technically an end to a tribe
moot.

A few moments later, John emerges - without Rina. "That's all we have to
discuss tonight," he says lowly, and soft-- his tone sombre, but not unkind.
"Someone see to Jeremy. Get the password. You can view it again if you wish.
That is all." With that dismissal, the Ahroun turns and heads for the
kitchen-- more specifically the kitchen exit of the building.

Yi glances over the others. Ok. Well. Right, dismissed. She blinks again,
and with a dip of her head to the others, starts again for the front door of
the Huge House these Walkers have. Lucky them.

As though he needed no other excuse, Quentin pushes himself up to his feet
from the couch at the words from their elder.. and he heads along with a
quick step towards the room where Jeremy disappeared into, his thoughtful
look fading into something more concerned.

Salem murmurs something in Serbian and drains the rest of his glass. Then he
sets it down and pushes to his feet, reaching for his jacket as he does so.

Jeremy is sitting in the other room, staring at his feet, sucking in a deep
breath. No longer crying, but simply... in shock? Or winding down?

Yi leaves out the front door surreptitiously, not asking for any rides back
to the city. She'll walk.

Francisco murmurs, "Vaya con Dios," in final farewell to Roger, that crazy
mule. He glances at Alicia and Rhiannon then, to see if they want to go.

Quentin's pace slows as he nears where the kinfolk's sitting in chock, and
he drops down to a slight crouch beside him.. arms folding over bent knees
and head tilting with a shower of dark hair across his brow to look up to
his face. "Hey," he murmurs in quiet tones, "You gonna be okay, Jer?"

Alicia stands up and gives Frankie a bump to the hip, tilting her head. "Hey
hottie, lets go party or something."

Rhiannon simply nods to Francisco, and looks in the general direction of
Jeremy and Quentin. "We'll need to fetch them, though."

"Mm.." Jeremy murmurs as he lifts his head up a bit, peering out of his
spikey black hair. "Yah." He says softly, swallowing. "M'ganna be alright."
Rolling his shoulders a bit, he stands up. "M'ganna go home.. " He wipes at
his eyes. "I'll see yeh' later."

"Do you need a ride, Jer?" Francisco asks quietly.

A slight nod, and Quentin straightens fully once more. "Okay, man.. if
you're sure. I'll be around, well, 'course I will 'cause I live in your
apartment, but.." A pause to gather his words, and he finishes with a wan
smile, "..if you wanna talk or anything. You know?"

Salem finishes shrugging into the hip-length leather coat and slips the
sunglasses back on -- nevermind that it's well dark outside by now. Not
making the slightest move to join any of the others in their exodus from the
house, the ex-Ronin picks up his empty glass and carries it off into the
kitchen.

"M'alright. I got a ride home." Jeremy says as he shakes out his hands a
bit, then nods his head to Quentin. He murmurs a soft thanks, then heads
past them and out the front door, heavy boots thumping hard upon the ground.

Francisco nods, putting his laptop back into its soft leather case, and then
standing and stretching. "Long-winded Galliard," he remarks with a crooked
grin. "Ladies? Quentin? Shall we go?"

Rhiannon nods to Francisco and follows behind Jeremy, favoring the TV and
DVD player with only a momentary backwards glance.

Alicia nods her head and loops her arm through Frankie's, dragging him.
"C'mon dude. 1,2,3, shake your ass and dance with me." She sings a bit,
bobbing herself along.

Salem returns from the kitchen and, since no one seems to have thought of
it, turns off the television and the DVD player.

Quentin's gaze lingers on Jeremy for a minute, even after he's left.. and
then he gives his head a shake, stepping along over to Franky's
non-Alicia-claimed side and flashing him a quick smile. "Yeah, lead on."

[...]

Salem lingers until all the rest have gone, jingling his keys in the pocket
of his coat as he stands near the television. Once alone, Jack gives the
dead screen a smile. It's a wan expression, even tired, but in its way far
more genuine than the one he'd been commanded to display earlier. "You
insane son of a bitch," he says in Serbian. The smile's gone, and after a
moment's silence, he says quietly, in that same language, "I'm sorry." Then
he leaves, making sure to turn off all the lights and to turn the door latch
on his way out.