Twitchy Gnawer

[hazlogs]

It is currently 17:53 Pacific Time on Sat Sep 14 2002.

Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 76 degrees
Fahrenheit (24 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the
southwest at 8 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.88 and falling,
and the relative humidity is 57 percent. The dewpoint is 60 degrees
Fahrenheit (15 degrees Celsius.)


Osprey Circle Fountain

Situated in the center of the grassy mound is a white marble fountain. The
smooth stone of the fountain sparkles and sends off bright shafts of light
whenever a stray beam bounces of its shiny surface. Perched at the top of
the fountain is a soaring osprey. Directly below the osprey, gentle jets of
water spurt up into the air, making it seem like the spray is propelling the
osprey upwards toward the sky. White marble, about a foot wide, rings the
center of the fountain, allowing the formation of a watery basin. Iron
benches sit slightly back from the fountain.

The asphalt roadway of Osprey Circle rings the grassy mound.


Renee groans, looking away from the sky and at the world around her. She
takes note of Rhiannon's inspection and scowls. "Is there a problem?"

Salem comes into view from the street, a thin brown paper bag wrapped around
a book-shaped form held under one arm. Sunglasses obscure his eyes; the
breeze tugs at the tails of his coat as he walks toward the fountain.

"No problem, I just thought I recognized you." Rhiannon seems unruffled,
perhaps she at least understands the reason for the scowl. Who likes
strangers staring at them. She asks after a moment, "You're not a friend of
Lyra's, are you?"

Renee sighs and rubs at her eyes. "Yea. who're you?"

Salem pauses as he catches sight of the pair then veers in their direction.

"Rhiannon," the Kin tells Renee. She furrows her brow again, and finally
guesses. "Anneka? Or Renee?"

Renee grunts and studies the other woman more closely. "Its Renee an' I
remember ya now. Metcha at Garcias, right?"

As he comes within earshot, Salem greets the pair with a pleasant-sounding,
"Good evening, ladies," and despite the waxing half moon, the Philodox seems
quite amiable.

Rhiannon shakes her head. "No, I don't think so. I've only eaten there once
or twice. Maybe at Lyra's apartment?" She gestures vaguely. "Over near Elson
and the Police precinct." Salem's arrival earns him a nod hello, and a wave
from her book. It's old and tattered, with a cover that resembles an old
black and white photo. "Salem."

Renee on the other hand, twists her face up as if she was just forced to
wear some frilly evening dress. "'Allo, Salem. What brings ya here?"

Salem answers the Bone Gnawer's grumpy expression with a thin, arch little
smile. "Bookstore. How's the job search going?" All very pleasant, yes.
Almost as if he's showing Renee how.

Knowing Salem allows a few more pieces to click into place, and Rhiannon
glances between the two Garou curiously. Salem's manner is of particular
interest, and she gives him a strange look, but doesn't say anything for the
moment.

Renee picks up the bag beside her and gives it a toss, causing the cloth
container to fall at the Walker's feet. A stay Dominos flyer slips free.
"Already got a job," the young woman half-growls.

Behind the dark lenses, the Glass Walker's eyes narrow. "Temper, Renee," he
says, his calm voice dropping in temperature a few degrees. "Complete
courtesy, remember?"

"Complete courtesy?" Rhiannon echos, her voice full of doubt.

Renee snorts. "Complete courtesy doesn't mean that I haveta crawl on ma
belly 'round ya."

"Neither does it mean you _throw_ things at people," Salem retorts. "Or
should I explain the concept of 'middle ground'?"

Rhiannon blinks, and something seems to have suddenly occurred to her.
"Renee." She says them name as if finally hearing it for the first time. She
looks at Salem and asks, "The same Renee that gave Quentin a, ah, love tap?"

Salem is distracted by the kinfolk's question; he glances her way, frowning
quizzically. "Pardon?"

Renee rolls her eyes. "If I'd thrown it at ya, it would have hit ya." Oh,
how she'd love to say more. "I tossed it at your feet. Saves ya the time of
walkin' all the way over here, where I sittin', ta see what I'm doin' Renee
looks in Rhiannon's direction, frowning. Renee rubs at her temples, before
turning her attention back to Salem.

Rhiannon looks at Renee, and her expression becomes cool as her eyes narrow.
"Sounds like this is an undiscussed topic. And I have trouble staying out of
it when it's one of my...family's kids, hermanita."

Salem's frown deepens, his expression narrowing into suspicion. He looks
back at Renee. "Did you do something to Quentin?" he asks.

Renee flinches, before cradling her head in her hands. "Jus' lemme alone."
The girl's voice cracks.

Something like regret flickers over Rhiannon's face, and she looks away with
a sigh. "Probably should leave it for somewhere a little less public, lobo,"
she says as casually as she can.

Salem's nostrils flare slightly as he inhales a slow, careful breath and
then lets it out. All amiability has vanished from his manner. "Indeed," he
says to Rhiannon, his gaze still focussed on the Bone Gnawer. "Renee, would
you mind coming with us, please?"

"No." Thats the only reply that comes out of Renee, she doesn't even move.
"Lemme alone."

The refusal causes Rhiannon to tense, and she looks at Salem. The phase of
the moon weighing heavy in her mind, she begins to wonder how ugly this
could get.

The muscles in Salem's jaw tighten. "Cowardice has never been one of your
faults," he says to Renee. "At least, I never considered it one, until now."

Renee flinches, but remains where she is. Unmoving. "Goin' with ya so you
can beat on me ain't cowardice." Most of the underlining growl that is
typical of Renee's voice is gone. She almost sounds human. "Its called
survival. An' if ya really must know, I hit'em. He was tellin' me about yer
orders, about not talkin' ta me. It made me mad, really mad, so I got stupid
an' hit him. I wasn't even mad at him, I was mad at you." Hands cupping the
young woman's head hold on a little together, turning her knuckles white. "I
was stupid, stupid, stupid." Gaia forbid, Renee voice is cracking even more.
Crying? "I've been lookin' for him, so I can tell'em I'm sorry. I owe'em for
what I did an' I always repay my debts. I know already, I was stupid, so
jus' lemme alone."

Rhiannon, for her part, seems moved enough by the young woman's confession
to stay silent. She glances at Salem, awaiting his reaction.

After a moment's silence, Salem nods. His face smooths out, all tension but
that from the moon fading away. "I see." He pauses a beat, then says, "I
hope this means you won't be making a habit of striking my tribe's cubs.
Because I have never, _ever_ laid a hand on any of yours."

"No." Renee's voice is deathy quite. "Ya jus' mad a habit of killin'em,
before ya came here."

"Not cubs," Salem replies, coldly. "And in war. While they were trying to
kill _me_. But never cubs."

A corner of Rhiannon's mouth twitches, but she doesn't contradict Salem's
statement. "Having a temper is understandable," the Kin allows. She offers a
small concession for accidently bringing the whole thing up. "Quentin's been
staying at my place."

"You'd never know," Renee continues. "Nothin' is more important ta us then
lookin' after family. We don't always get along, but we are family. If
somethin' happened an' if there was a war, we'd all fight. Even cubs. How do
ya know some of those that attacked ya an' were killed, weren't cubs? Ya
can't know an' ya never will, not fer certain'." The girl takes a deep
breath, her whole body shuddering. "You'd kill yer own, but ya get mad when
a few humans die. Are human screams more likely ta haunt yer deams, or
somethin'? I hear enough screamin' in my sleep, but it ain't from humans."

Salem's jaw has gone tight again; he's making an effort to remain calm. His
tone of voice is chilly. "I explained that to you, even if you're too
overwrought currently to remember." His lips thin. "I think this challenge
is causing you undue stress."

Rhiannon doesn't intrude on the discussion, and instead lets her eyes slide
over the area, watching for nosy passer-by.

"I remember, an' I still don't agree with ya," Renee murmurs. The young
woman stands in one fluid motion, eyes remaining focused on the ground.
Passing by Salem, she bends down just long enough to retreave her cloth bag.
"An' yer probably right. I've cast away everythin' that I am, ta fit into a
Weaver spawned mold of 'what I should be.' Jus' ta prove a point. I ain't
got nothin' left ta hold onta and I can practically feel the spiders
crawling over me, jus lookin' for a place ta start weaving." Bag now in
hand, Renee begins to walk away.

Nicodemus enters from a riverfront alleyway, cuts across the sidewalk and
road that circles the centrally located fountain, and his feet step onto
grass. A few other pedestrians are out, but more interested in going in or
out of one of the nearby shops. The goth's steps are automatic, as if he's
all but memorized the path to this location, and his brain is on autopilot
the whole while as he look primarily down at the ground in thought.

Salem has nothing to say in response to that -- not verbally, anyway. The
thin twist of disgust on his lips speaks volumes. Then he shakes his head,
expression switching back to the characteristic neutral mask; he mutters low
enough for only Rhiannon to hear. "I frankly don't expect her to succeed.
Frankly, though, I thought she'd last more than a week before starting to
crack."

"What did she challenge you for?" Rhiannon asks in a low voice. She makes no
move to stop the young Gnawer, but watching her leave brings Nicodemus into
the Kin's field of view. She narrows her eyes, as his attire causes him to
stand out a little more than the other people in the area, then causally
looks back towards Salem.

Renee steps past Nicodemus as she leaves, aware of the people around her and
avoiding them. Despite of the fact that here eyes are focused on the ground.

Salem follows Rhiannon's glance toward the goth, noting him with
recognition, but no other particular reaction. Nobody dangerous, then. "She
objected to me not wishing her to teach our, ah, students." He shifts the
paper-bag-wrapped book to his other arm. "And to my low opinion of her
personally. So, she called me on it, formally."

Nicodemus looks up as his "proximity" alarm goes off with Renee's passing.
He nods faintly to her, continues on his way, then sneaks a glance at her
back as she passes by. Now more alert, he looks towards the fountain area
and his gaze drifts over the pair remaining there. His pace slows slightly.

Rhiannon raises her eyebrows. "Well, I wouldn't've expected her to care
about teaching any of ours." She gives Salem a thoughtful look. "Unless
she's doing it just to prod at you."

"Hrmph. Possibly." The corners of Salem's mouth tug downwards. "She seemed
to see it as her duty, since we currently lack anyone to teach Quentin his
particular career." He snorts. "As if Alicia or Tatt didn't even exist."

Renee doesn't even seem to notice the nod, as she continues on her way.
Moving out of view.

Rhiannon notices Nicodemus' scrutinty, and she watches him, watching them.
"She doesn't have what you'd call a high opnion of Tatt, last I heard," the
Kin says in a dry but absent tone.

Salem makes another 'hrmph' type of noise. "She doesn't have a high opinion
of _anyone_ who allows themselves to be 'trapped' by 'society's webs'." The
sarcasm is thick.

Nicodemus begins a cricle around the fountain to the opposite side from the
pair, so as to not disturb them overly. His hands find their way into his
pant pockets. Keys are jingled absent-mindedly en-route.

Rhiannon looks away from Nicodemus, and out across the street. "I don't
think that's really a bad thing about her. I know for some of you it's
difficult." She runs a finger along the bowed spine of her book. "Just too
bad she's so fucking antisocial about it."

Salem glances over toward Nicodemus again, attention briefly drawn by the
sound of jingling keys. Then he turns back and nods once to Rhiannon.
"She'll grow up, eventually." His shoulders lift slightly, then fall. "Or
not."

"Fair enough," Rhiannon murmurs. "I'd just as soon she did. It's not like
we--or at least they--can't use the help."

Nicodemus settles down on the marble edge of the far side of the fountain.
The jets of water obscure his presence and activities.

Salem grunts. "Kaz sets some store by her, in any case." He gives another
shrug, then changes the subject. "How _is_ Quentin, by the way?"

"He's doing pretty good, last I saw him." Rhiannon grimaces. "Which
admittedly was a couple days ago. I've been leaving early and coming back
late, and he can't quite hold a conversation when we jog." The last bit
makes her smile just a little.

"You've gotten him to run with you? Good." Salem smiles thinly. "I've been
doing similar with Cat."

It's Rhiannon's turn to do the asking-after. "Speaking of. How's *he* doing?
I saw him a couple of days ago, Ms. Miller was there with her daughter." Her
smiles grows more amused. "I think the child made him nervous."

Renee descends down the grassy mound, away from the fountain and onto the
asphalt roadway. Back toward Riverfront Drive.

Salem says, dryly, "Everything makes him nervous." There's a touch of
long-suffering there. "We'll see. I've told him to stop 'mister' and
'missing' everybody around him, and got his hair cut. He's... hm." He says
again, "We'll see."

Rhiannon nods. "Well, the mister and miss thing is the least of your
worries. I remember being told his self-defense lessons were less than
productive. Given his size, that could be a problem." She glances at Salem
for confirmation of this.

Salem grimaces, glancing away to survey the fountain area. "He folds under
conflict. Hides. Still, he mentioned that Rina offered to teach him how to
shoot, and he seemed... interested." He looks back at her. "You heard about
the shooting, yes?" His voice, not loud during this conversation, drops a
notch or two quieter.

"Mmmmmm," Rhiannon responds, her own voice fairly low. "I did. Kept us a
little busy around here, what with our buddy getting shipped off to Salt
Lake. It was generally assumed the hit was somehow related to his
situation." She sighs, and shakes her head. "If she doesn't press charges or
come forward, the police will probably leave her alone."

"...And I doubt that she'll do either." Salem shakes his head, his
expression grim.

"Small benefit, then." Rhiannon shifts in her seat. "I suppose asking her to
stay home, fully recover, and then lay low is a ridiculous idea?" Her voice
is a study in sarcasm.

Salem arches a brow. "You can _ask_ her, surely," he says, utterly dry.
"Whether she _will_..." He shakes his head again. "Nothing can keep Rina
from taking risks. I don't envy John in the slightest."

Mixing with the scent of misting water vapors is the recently added scent of
burning cloves. A faint whisp of smoke occasionally trails from behind the
splashing, gurgling water spray.

"I dunno, a stun gun might do the trick," Rhiannon suggests flippantly. She
shakes her head. "Who am I kidding. I know what she's thinking, I was
thinking it myself about ten years ago."

Salem lifts an eyebrow at Rhiannon, questioningly.

Rhiannon shrugs. "I won't pretend we're alike, but I wouldn't be surprised
if part of it is, risks make her feel alive. Not like a rush, but...like
she's a part of this whole thing, and contributing." She smirks. "The danger
part of it doesn't usually reigster until after you've been hit."

Salem nods, expression turning somewhat rueful. He shifts the bagged book
back to his left arm and reaches up to brush back a stray lock of hair.
"Mmnh. Yes. And of course no one wants to lock her to a stove or anything
idiotic like that, but..." Another head-shake. "I had no idea she might
catch a bullet at the _library_."

"Yeah, it's not high on my list of dangerous locales either," Rhiannon
drawls. "But I bet that's why they chose it. Her guard would be down." The
marshal scuffs one of her feet on the ground. "I'm surprised they went for
something so public, though."

"Maybe a loose cannon?" Salem grimaces, dismissive of his own groundless
suggestion, then glances down at his watch. "Hmnh."

Rhiannon frowns. "Maybe. Although that sounds less likely given there, ah,
current circumstances in Salt Lake." She looks around at the now lamp-lit
park. "Yeah. Should probably get going m'self."

Salem nods. "Give my regards to Quentin... and Lyra, if you see her."

Rhiannon stands and stretches, then gives Salem a nod. "I will. Tell Rina to
stay home if you see her before I do." A rueful smile, since the suggestion
is unlikely to be taken from anyone, even Salem.

Salem seems to feel the same way; his answer is a dry, "I'll pass the
suggestion along." His farewell is a, "Be seeing you," that manages to
capture some of the amiable calm that he displayed when he'd first walked
into the Circle.

With a last glance towards the fountain, Rhiannon sets off back to her car,
intent on a quiet night at home.