Chatskis

[hazlogs]

It is currently 21:46 Pacific Time on Fri Aug 30 2002.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is partially cloudy. The temperature is 69
degrees Fahrenheit (20 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in
from the northeast at 5 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.04 and
steady, and the relative humidity is 62 percent. The dewpoint is 56
degrees Fahrenheit (13 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waning Half Moon phase (49% full).

Location: Salem's apartment, Red Mill.


"That means y'strong, on the inside," Rina says softly. "You gotta try,
and I know it's hard... but just realize that things are different now. So
you can't act the same. And I bet Jack doesn't want you to act the same,
either."

Cat blinks, stubborn frown set in place. For all the world it looks like a
pout. "Did I do something wrong? Did Mister Salem tell you to talk to me?"
he demands.

Rina draws back a fraction, startled. She looks confused, shaking her head
in answer. "No... no, I just..." Her brow furrows, and she lowers her
eyes. Suddenly the smooth knowing-what-to-do evaporates and she looks...
tired, and pained. "I just know it's hard, sometimes, to change things,"
she says quietly. Her eyes remain focused on her cup, held carefully in
both hands. "When you're... used to things bein' one way, and then
everything goes a different way. And I... thought maybe that was kinda
like what happened, with you."

The frown on the cub's face eases somewhat, although the uneasiness inside
him does not. "And what happened with you?" Cat asks, shameless. Had Rina
been John or Salem, a man who radiated authority much like his father had,
the boy wouldn't have even considered speaking without being told to. But
she was a girl, and girls were oddities, both in the amount he knew/met
and in their behavior, as far as he was concerned. And you could make
allowances for oddities.

Rina's mouth turns wry, when she looks across to him. "That'd take a long
time to explain. If I could even figure it out."

Cat blinks slowly, then looks down at his ignored hot chocolate and brings
the mug to his lips. It -was- good, he acknowledged grudgingly, drinking
the sweet liquid like there was no tomorrow. When he's finished half, he
sets it back down, licking his lips and frowning thoughtfully. "Did Mister
Salem hit you?" is the anxious question.

Rina blinks, shock written across her face for a moment. She shakes her
head quickly, then. "No." Her voice is hoarse, touched with emotion. "No.
He would never-- do something like that."

"Honest?" Cat persists. Perhaps he's heard the same excuses from his own
mouth, before. "He'd never hit anybody? Quentin said he hit him. That
Mister Salem broke his fingers." The information is presented to Rina
challengingly, but something in blue eyes flickers, something that begs to
be told it's untrue.

The scraping sound of a key in the brand-new lock heralds the arrival of
the master of the apartment.

Rina shakes her head minutely, and tips her head. "He'd never hit anybody
... like /that/. Never hit a helpless person, or-- somebody who couldn't
fight back." She rises, setting her cup aside and heading for the door.

The sound of the door also catches Cat's attention; warily, he sips some
more of the yummy hot chocolate as he watches Rina answer the door.
Instinctively he knew it was Mister Salem...and suddenly, all of Rina's
words come rushing into his head. It almost makes him dizzy.

Salem has been doing some grocery shopping on his way home, at least to
judge by the plastic bags he's currently burdened with. Shoving open the
door with a shoulder, he's completely unaware that there's anyone home but
Cat, he of the growing-boy appetite.

Rina holds the door open for him, meeting him at the door and relieving
him of one of the grocery bags. "Hi, hon," she says lightly, rising on
tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Then, as if nothing is amiss, she turns and
carries the bag into the kitchen. "Cat and I were just havin' a chatski."

Salem has a rare moment of severe startlement; he stares after Rina's back
with a look that's half surprise, half consternation. Though he recovers
his composure quickly, it's an image that will probably burn itself into
Cat's mind, at least. "Ah," he says, closing the door behind him. "I see."

It's visible to any who watch that Cat draws his head back, hands suddenly
tight around the mug, eyes wide when Rina -kisses- Salem. That small
action truly seems to disturb him, as does Salem's resulting expression.
His eyes follow Rina into the kitchen, before snapping back to Salem
almost accusingly.

Rina grins at the boy, and gives him a wink. "I /love/ to rattle him," she
murmurs, and then she deposits her things on the kitchen counter.

Salem catches the look in Cat's eye and shakes his head at the cub, mouth
drawn into a wry grimace. "So you do." He sets the other bag down near its
sibling with an audible thunk, then reaches in and hefts out a
fridge-friendly case of Dr. Pepper. "This is the last I'm buying for the
next two weeks," he tells Cat. "Try to limit yourself to one a day?" He
sounds a little prickly.

Still ping-ponging his glances between the two adults (with the sort of
expression you'd find on a child who just found out how he came to be),
Cat nods solemnly to the Walker cliath. "Thank you for buying it at all,
Mister Salem sir," he mumbles earnestly, batting at his hair with one hand
still curled about the mug. "I'll stay to one a day."

Rina gives Salem a reproving look. "Good," she mutters, crossing her arms
and giving the boy a sober look. "Caffeine's bad for you."

Salem puts away the rest of the groceries, avoiding Rina's eyes, still
gathering up the rest of his dignity. "What have you been talking about?"
he asks.

Rina hitches a shoulder, and glances to Cat.

Cat looks into the remains of his hot chocolate, seeking answers...and
getting some, the reflection of other things on the surface inspirational.
"Rina's getting married to Mister Smith," he announces, looking up with an
utterly deadpan expression on his face. Like he was the one breaking the
news to Salem. "See, she has a ring. An' everything." He pauses, then
cants his head as he glances between both adults again. "Isn't that nice?"

The look in Salem's eye darkens, turning hard, but the halfmoon restrains
his more vicious side and answers with perfect calm. "I'm quite aware of
that, Cat. Ms. Vencenzo and I are _friends_. Period."

Rina winces slightly, the good humor suddenly falling a little. "Good
enough friends," she says grimly, "that Jack and Mr. Smith are *going* to
resolve their *differences*, or I'm gonna break some heads." She crosses
her arms and looks over to Salem. "But enough about me."

Blue eyes blink in surprise, then let their gaze drop to the counter. Cat
hadn't meant anything by it, he'd been answering the question. "Yessir,"
he mumbles, staring into the hot chocolate, which was starting to become
merely warm. He ignores Rina's comment, the mild rebuke from Salem
distracting him a bit.

Salem cuts a sidelong glance at Rina once the cub has dropped his eyes.
"Differences?" he asks, blandly. "What differences?"

"You know damn well," she mutters, coming into the kitchen and getting
herself a glass. Pouring herself one of those wickedly caffeinated, sugary
Dr. Peppers that is so bad for you.

Salem gets, for himself, a glass of water, and he makes a non-committal
'mmnph' noise in reply to the kin, sounding vaguely disgruntled.

Cat decides to finish the rest of his drink, and does so, watching Rina
pour one of his Dr. Peppers from the corner of his vision. He doesn't stop
her, but he doesn't seem to pleased by it. After a moment he goes back to
watching the bottom of the mug. She -had- made the hot chocolate...well,
okay. Wordlessly and post-event, Cat gives Rina permission.

Glass in hand, Rina returns to the couch and takes her former seat again.
"So," she says idly, watching Salem. "You're doin' all right, but I think
Cat needs a little more independence." The dark eyes watch him, focused.

Salem remains standing, halfway between the counter and the couch, making
the water swirl in his glass with small circular motions. He glances at
Cat, then turns his eye toward Rina. "Oh?"

Cat glances up, at Rina and then Salem, and then Rina again.

Rina nods innocently, and glances over to Cat. "Yeah." She gives him a
quiet smile. "Thanks for lettin' me stick around, by the way."

"As it happens," Salem says evenly, "I agree. And you're welcome."

Cat squints at Rina somewhat darkly. Somehow, this conversation was taking
a turn he wasn't going to like, and was powerless to prevent.

Rina gives Salem a look. "I was /talking/ to *Cat*," she says pointedly.
And sips her soda. She enjoys a little more silence, and looks from one to
the other. Abruptly, she gives a wry shake of her head. "No wonder you two
get along."

Salem gets that look of mild irritation that causes Rhiannon to refer to
him as an irate porcupine, and again he represses it. He waits a beat or
two, then asks, "And what does _that_ mean?"

The blond boy tilts his head in surprise as Rina names -him- as the
receiver of thanks. "Um, you're welcome," Cat echoes softly, then frowning
at his mug when Salem pesters Rina. He steals another glance at the two
adults, whatever he thought of them unreadable in his expression. He's not
even sure himself.

Rina rolls her eyes at glances to Salem. "'Cause you can stand there and
glower and brood all you want, and have your peace and quiet, and Cat
won't make a peep to disturb you." She turns to the boy, then, folding one
leg on the couch between them and sipping at her soda. The mischief in her
eyes betrays her, though she tries to suppress the slight smile.

Salem's mouth twists into a small grimace, then relents, letting the
expression drop as he drinks his water. He takes the glass nearly to
half-empty, then sets it down on the coffee table and, with a muttered,
"Excuse me," vanishes into the bedroom.

Cat watches Salem disappear, then turns a puzzled frown on Rina. He seems
to be doing that a lot, frowning- but he doesn't understand, and that
bothers him. "I'm just quiet," he murmurs softly, defensively. "Why would
I want to bother Mister Salem?"

Rina lets out a breath, smiling somewhat apologetically and giving a
little shake of her head. "Didn't mean it in a bad way, kiddo. Just givin'
you shit. Friends talk to each other, sometimes." She has another swallow
of Dr. Pepper.

The Theurge cub digests this for awhile. "We have chatskis," he announces
finally, watching Rina carefully. He's very solemn, a pale golden version
of the Philodox cliath, it seems.

Rina breaks into a grin. "Yeah?" She nods, pursing her lips in approval.
"Good." A thoughtful look comes to the Italian-angel face. "Know what you
need?"

Like a puppy tired of playing, Cat gazes at Rina dolefully. "What?" is the
rather unenthusiastic, I'm-going-to-dread-this-I-can-tell question.

Rina's expression shifts, and she wrinkles her nose. "Well. I was thinking
videogames, or... Idunno." She looks a bit crestfallen at his
underwhelming response, that's for sure. And then she asks, quite
seriously, "What do you like to do for fun?"

"..." Either he's hesitant to answer, or he's not sure. "Sometimes Mister
Salem let's me play with his Palm Pilot," Cat answers slowly, uncertain if
that's what Rina means. "Or I read...I used to read a lot, back home. Or
play with my dogs." He looks down into his empty mug, shrugs one shoulder.
"Mister Salem's lease doesn't allow pets, though."

Salem emerges from the bedroom, looking less porcupine-ish, even if not
overly cheerful, and a good deal more casual, having traded jeans for
sweatpants. Barefoot, he retrieves his glass -- carefully dislodging a
cockroach that's trying to climb up the outside, and settles with a grunt
at the other end of the couch.

Rina's smile brightens. "What'd'y'like to read? There a really big public
library here... we could go sometime, find you some books."

A small grin blossoms on Cat's face. "R-really? There's a nice library in
Helena too, I went there once...but, um, don't you need a card or
something? To get books?"

Salem stretches his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. He seems
content to be silent for the moment, to let himself relax.

Rina lifts a shoulder, and echoes the boy's smile. "I got a card," she
says lightly. "You can borrow books on mine, 'till we get you all set up
here." She looks over to Salem, and asks, "Does Gianni know all the
particulars, on that?"

Salem shakes his head. "I was planning to speak with Jeremy on that,
actually," he says. "Since he seems to enjoy making, destroying, and
altering files." He glances over toward Cat. "New identity. You'll need
one."

Cat grins his thanks, terribly pleased by the idea of getting books to
read. The dictionary was okay, but...the grin fades as Salem speaks. "New
identity?" he echoes, confused frown returning. "Um...why? Nobody knows me
around here anyway."

Rina chews on her lower lip. "Yeah, but you're gonna want to have a life.
And that means a new name, 'cause we don't want anyone to come looking for
you, or notice that there a kid here who matches a missing kid somewhere
else."

Salem nods, the set of his mouth thin and tight. "Exactly. Also, if
there's trouble, it would be nice to be able to give a reason why I've got
a teenage boy living with me that _won't_ get me thrown behind bars." Was
that humor? Completely deadpan if it was.

The cub looks from Kin to Cliath (his stare a little long on Salem's),
then just shrugs his shoulders. "Kay. That's all right. I don't want to
get anybody in trouble." Pause. "And if it means I can get library books,
it can't be bad then."

A strange muffled snort comes from Rina, well-stifled. At least she didn't
snarf Dr. Pepper. That would hurt.

Salem glances sideways at Rina, arches a brow, and then sips his water,
perfectly composed. "That, and it'll help you break from your past."

"Ohh." What Cat thinks of 'breaking away' isn't entirely clear, as his
'oh' is stretched out in a yawn. He frowns, this time at himself. Glancing
apologetically to Rina, he slides off the stool with his mug in hand.
"Mister Salem sir, may I go back to sleep? I'm...really tired."

Rina drinks down a swallow, and sets aside her glass. "Christ, I kept you
up... I'm sorry, hon." She gives the boy a wry half-smile. "I'm used
t'stayin' up all night. Too much goin' out late.'

Salem grunts, then waves the sleepy cub over toward the bedroom door.
"Go." That's the second time this week that he's given Cat the real bed,
instead of the pull-out couch. "Get some rest." He himself doesn't look as
though he's planning on sleeping any time soon.

Cat quirks one side of his mouth in a grin at Rina, then nods thankfully
to Salem. "Thanks sir, g'night." He deposits his mug in the sink, puts
water in it so that the chocolate doesn't harden, and then disappears into
the bedroom. Within three minutes, he's fast asleep, back in a wonderful
place called dreams.

Rina watches him go, an oddly fagile, tender smile softening her features.
"He smiled at me," she says quietly.

Salem nods, toying with his glass. "He does that." A glance tilts her way,
and one eyebrow lifts slightly. "What do you think?"

Rina curls up in her corner of the couch, looking over her shoulder to him
thoughtfully. "What'd'y'mean?"

Salem shifts his weight slightly so that he's angled a bit more toward
her. A roach waves its antennae a little close to his bare foot, and he
moves it. The foot, that is, not the insect; here, the mundane children of
the Walker totem get free reign. "Of Cat."

Rina glances down, her smile touched with something wistful. "He needs to
be set free," she says, "but he doesn't want to be. It's hard to let go of
the familiar patterns. The past." Her voice is soft, distant, the dark
eyes fixed on empty air, somewhere toward the floor or beyond it.

Salem pauses with the glass halfway to his lips, studying her, then grunts
and nods. "Suddenly," he says blandly, "I feel less encouraged."

His voice startles her from her thoughts, and she looks over to him,
confusion in the dark eyes. "Why?"

Salem shakes his head. "Nothing. Cat will be fine. He simply lacks
confidence in himself."

Rina nods minutely. "It takes that, or someone yanking you out of the
mire," she says, glancing away from him. "And the confidence works better
in the long run."

Salem wrinkles his nose slightly, then glances down to his feet again. The
cockroach is back, persistant, and is trying to climb up his heel. He eyes
it for a moment, then lets it be. "He and Quentin both have a lot going
for them." His voice is quiet. "Cat already has a better connection to the
spirit world than I've ever had. He'll be a good theurge, of that I have
no doubt."

Rina's smile is quiet, as she leans over to pick up her glass. "Theurge,
huh... what's Quentin's auspice?"

"Galliard." Salem watches the cockroach, which is making its steady way up
to the top of his foot. If it tickles at all, he doesn't show it. He
sloshes the remaining water around in his glass. "Like Roger."

Rina sips from her drink for a bit, any trace of a smile fading at the
mention of the dead man.

Salem glances over at her, then grimaces and looks away. "Sorry."

Rina shakes her head minutely, looking over to him with a fainter, more
wistful curve on her lips. "It's okay," she answers softly. "We can't step
around it forever, y'know?"

"Mnh." Salem leans his head back, tilting his gaze toward the ceiling.
"They found the safehouse through Glissa Nicholson," he remarks,
off-handedly. "And Glissa found the safehouse through me."

Rina's brow furrows, empathy etched into the delicate features--she
understands instantly, of course. "No one could know they would turn her,"
she says quietly. "Could've been anyone." Her throat tightens in a
swallow. "Could've been me." The dark, haunted eyes watch him.

"I know," he says, and then again, "I know." He rubs at his eyes. "It
could have been anyone, and he died well. He died the way he would have
wanted to die, and the explosion... would have pleased him."

The cockroach finishes the last inch of its hike and sits poised on the
halfmoon's toe like a triumphant mountain climber.

Rina lets out a short breath, and finishes off her drink. She heads for
the kitchen, picking up her mug from the counter. A little while later the
water runs, as she washes the several dishes. She doesn't speak.

Salem sits up, finishing his water and shaking the cockroach from his foot
as gently as possible. He mutters something curt under his breath, then
watches the kinswoman ruefully. "I'm a depressing son of a bitch, aren't
I?" His tone is wry, with a generous portion of cynical self-deprecation.

Rina ducks her head slightly, her smile unseen but audible. "Actually...
most of the time, you cheer me up." A pause. "Except for the first time we
met. But then, I was pretty far down, and I think you used the C word..."

Salem winces, averting his gaze. "I don't doubt that."

Rina lets out a breath, and starts drying the mugs and the glass.
"Saright. I forgave you, when you came back a non-asshole."

"Hmmm." Salem studies his empty glass thoughtfully. "Good."

The dishes put away, she comes to the edge of the kitchen. "Get some
sleep, Jack, aright?" A wry smile tugs at one corner of her mouth.
"Otherwise you'll look even scarier tomorrow."

Salem pushes to his feet, glass in hand. "Scarier? You jest." As always,
his humor's utterly deadpan. Bare feet carefully avoid squishing any stray
roaches as he crosses over to the kitchen.

She doesn't touch him, when he passes--just heads for the door, the smile
lingering a bit. "'Night, sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs chew your leg
off." She slips out, closing the door behind her.

Salem snorts. It almost sounds like a laugh. "Good night," he says, just
before the door closes.