Thanksgiving at Rina's

[hazlogs]

Setting: 11/28/2002, Thursday, Thanksgiving Day, Rina's place.

It's a long, mostly-silent drive from the farmhouse to Rina's building,
but eventually they get there. Salem's knock is short but authoritive.

The apartment is full of delicious smells and classical music. Angelina,
now an active and curious child of two and a half, sits by the couch
building things out of a pile of Legos. Jenny is on the couch near her,
and she calls over her shoulder when the knock comes. "Want me to get it?"

Rina comes out to answer the door, dressed in loose satin jeans and a
long-sleeved red velvet t-shirt, a dishtowel looking incongruous over her
shoulder. She offers Salem a faint, quiet smile, and says to Quentin,
"Glad you could make it, c'mon in."

"Hey," Quentin offers from where he's standing beside Salem, hands tucked
into the pockets of his jacket and a quick and almost nervous smile
flashed over towards Rina as the door's opened, "Thanks for inviting me,
and all.. been awhile, really." A moment's awkward pause, before he steps
along in and out of the way, glancing around the unfamiliar apartment.

Jenny comes to save the day. Her nod to Salem holds something that is not
quite hostility, but might be called distrust; she gives Quentin a
slightly friendlier smile, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. Holding
out a hand, she says, "I'm Jenny..."

Angelina peeks out from behind her, staring at Salem nervously.

Quentin blinks a little, perhaps not having expected to see anyone he
didn't recognize.. but then offers a rueful smile, raising one hand to
take Jenny's in a brief clasp. "Hi. I'm Quentin, ah, good to meet you."

Salem meets Rina's gaze, and though he doesn't smile, the hardness in his
face eases back. He returns Jenny's nod in a way that's amost as wary,
albeit not in the same way, then turns his attention back to Rina. "Need
any help?"

"I'm okay, but if you wanna mash potatoes and stuff I'm just gettin'
started on the veggies." Rina's voice is subdued, somehow.

"And this is Angela," Jenny adds, turning to rumple the little girl's
hair. Wide-eyed, Angela stares at Quentin for a long moment.

"Heya, kiddo." A slightly wider smile tugged upwards at one corner, as
Quentin looks between the two.. and then glances over towards Salem and
Rina, raising one brow slightly. "I can help too, if you want.. I cook for
Rhi all the time. Well, I used to."

Salem glances back toward Quentin. "You can again, if Rhiannon agrees.
Craig's turned out to be family." His mouth takes on a rather wry little
twist.

The tow-headed little girl steps from Jenny's side to Rina's, and tugs on
Rina's leg. "Me too! I'm'na help Daddy!"

Utterly disarmed, Rina looks down at her, and a faint smile comes to the
gaunt, tired face. "S'aright. You were havin' fun buildin' stuff... you
can help me later, 'k?"

A dark brown eye tilts down toward the toddler, and as it does, Salem's
face does an odd little twitch that's difficult to read.

A moment's pause, and then Quentin casts a rather.. irritated look towards
Salem. "What? Well.. fuck." He immediately looks repentent, then, glancing
down towards the kid with a grimace, "..erk. Sorry."

Jenny winces.

Rina glances up in the midst of tousling Angela's hair, and rolls her
eyes. "Like she's never heard it before."

The little girl looks over to Quentin and nods sagely--but before she
starts talking, Jenny takes her by the hand and leads her back over to the
Legos. "I wanna help!" Angela complains--but her attention is soon
distracted by a new building project.

Rina just looks after them, watching with bleak eyes.

Salem gives Quentin a slight shrug. "Fate took a hand," he says, blandly.
Then he moves toward Rina, touching her arm lightly. "You mentioned
vegetables?"

"Sorry," Quentin says with an apologetic glance after Jenny and Angela..
and then he steps along over towards the other two, offering again, "Yeah,
like I said.. I'll help out with the vegetables, or whatever, if you need
help."

Rina lifts her head abruptly. "Yeah," she murmurs, distracted. "Yeah." She
leads the way toward the kitchen, where a sizzle announces impending doom
in the form of a pot boiling over. The stockpot's foamy output suggests
potatoes boiling. Another stockpot with a glass cover holds marinara, the
smells of garlic and spices blending with the baking turkey.

Quentin's nostrils flare slightly as he catches the smells of the kitchen,
a smile quirking instinctively at its promise. "Hey, smells good..
alright, where's the vegetables at?"

Salem moves quickly toward the boiling pot, turning the heat down and
lifting the pot from the coil. "Saved," he mutters.

A tentative knock sounds at the front door.

Rina is a bit slower, stepping toward the stove after Salem does.
"Thanks," she murmurs, turning the heat down. "Just blow on 'em and put
'em back on. Ummm..." She turns, passing behind Salem's back to get to the
fridge. "Carrots need chopping..." One hand holds out the bag vaguely in
Quentin's direction. "Just slice 'em, I think. Turkey's got less than an
hour to go, so if we get those on, then I'll do the pasta..."

Rina's voice trails off mid-thought at the knock.

Salem arches a brow at 'blow on them'; he waits until the foaming bubbling
subsides and then replaces the pot on the now-lowered burner. He glances
up at the knock, then looks over at Rina.

The bag of carrots is taken from Rina's hand, as Quentin reaches out and
offers her a wry smile, "Chop, slice, yeah, sounds familiar.. I suppose
that's all part of my job." He glances towards the door, then moves over
to the counter to open the bag up. And in search for a knife.

Rina pops upright and shuts the fridge, opening a drawer on the way out of
the kitchen to show Quentin where the knives are. She heads for the door.
Angela's voice can be heard, rising with excitement. "More people! More
more more!"

Rina opens the door, and a smile is startled onto her face, seeming out of
place against shadowy eyes and gaunt lines.

Kit gives a sheepish wriggle of her fingers, followed by a quick shiver.
"Hey. Long time no see," she says quietly as she gives the studio a quick
once over. "Mind if I come in?" she asks with a weak smile.

Kit's changed a bit since her journey it seems. She still smiles often
even though it seems forced every now and then and her eyes smolder
quietly when she gets irritated. Her hair has been dyed in the same manner
since her Rite though. A wavy untrimmed lock hangs down either side of her
face from her temples to just below her chin. The last inch of the hair is
died an ivory white, setting a deep contrast between her dark black hair,
which falls down her back in a tail wrapped with small sections of leather
cord. The style of black on white is further continued by her fair skin,
and her dark brown eyes. She's in good shape, like she runs or swims
often, around 5'8", and she ends up being quite attractive, with a well
toned stomach and a fairly ample bosom. She's changed her apparel as well
since her return. A pair of black steel toed combat boots cover her feet
and snake up into the shadows of her gray cargo pants. For a top she now
wears a snug and simple white tank top. (App:4)

Thunk thunk thunk goes the knife on the chopping board, as Quentin goes to
work like a good little kitchen drone-- leaning back a bit to try and
catch a glimpse of whoever's at the door, hearing a voice but not
recognizing it immediately.

Rina glances over her shoulder. "Hon, Kit's here..." She flashes a nervous
smile back at the woman at the door. "C'mon in."

Jenny hoists a clambering Angela down from her lap, and takes the girl's
hand to lead her over to the door. "Happy Thanksgiving, and stuff," she
says, offering a warm smile to the Fury.

Salem leans against the counter near the stove, keeping an eye on the
potatoes, arms folded across his chest. He seems less than interested in
the new arrival, somewhat withdrawn. Brooding.

Quentin flickers a glance towards Salem, noting his expression with a
slightly concerned frown. "Hey," he asks over, reaching out with the hand
not busy with a knife to nudge the older man, "What's with the long face,
boss?"

Kit waves to Jenny as she enters, rubbing her arms a bit as she tries to
caox some warmth back into them. "Thanks," she says to Rina with a tired
smile. She surveys the other inhabitants as she wanders in. "What's going
down?"

"Mm? Nothing." Salem shakes his head, his tone dismissive. "Thinking." A
few strands of hair have escaped the black ponytail; he tucks them back
behind his ear in an absent gesture.

"Just dinner," Rina answers. Her half-smile isn't quite convincing, but
her voice is light. "Put the men to work. You wanna drink? There's
antipasto on the coffee table..."

"Angela, this is Kit," Jenny says. "She's our friend, okay?"

"Right." Quentin frowns at Salem for a few moments.. and then turns back
to the vegetables, making short work of the carrots remaining scattered
over the chopping board. Thunk thunk thunk.

The toddler peers out from behind Jenny's skirt. "Look like Daddy!" she
says, blinking and staring.

Salem narrows his eyes at Quentin, then grunts and turns his attention
back to the potatoes. He listens to the conversation in the living room
with half an ear.

Kit grins at the mention of putting the men to work. "About time they do
something useful," she says jokingly. She winks in the direction of Salem
and Quentin goodnaturedly. She then stares down at the small child in
confusion, but she manages a warm smile. She glances at Rina as she moves
for a seat on the couch. "Explanation?" she asks.

Once the carrots are viciously divided into tiny orange disks, Quentin
regards them for a long moment as though he wasn't sure what they were..
before turning away, the knife left behind, and walking back towards the
living room. "Hey, Rina," he calls over amiably, "Need anything else
chopped up?"

Angela and Jenny follow--the toddler plopping down amid her Legos again,
and the mother sitting on the edge of the couch.

Rina looks over at Kit warily. "Idunno. I guess 'cause you got a
wifebeater on, and we dress a lot the same..." She flashes Quentin a
smile, and heads that way. "Nah, we can probably put those on and do the
pasta at the same time... how're the potatoes?"

"Tamed," comes Salem's reply. He glances up. "And done, I believe."

Kit chuckles faintly at Rina as she plops down on the couch. "Why Rina. I
didn't know you were a father," she says with an amused grin. "Will
wonders never cease?"

"He glowered at them," Quentin explains, straight-faced, as Rina heads
over to where he lingers near the kitchen's edge, "Until they behaved.
He's good at that, you know." A tip of his chin up and over towards Kit,
then, and he offers with a quick smile, "Hey. I'm Q."

"Glasswalker," Rina adds, reaching up to rumple Q's hair.

"She's always been Daddy," Jenny murmurs, leaning forward to pick up one
of Angela's modern sculptures. "What's this, Bug?"

Salem snorts at Quentin. "Ready for mashing, at any rate," he tells Rina.

Rina shoos Quentin off to the living room. "Go, you've discharged your
duty. You guys want anything to drink?" There is, in fact, a big plate of
antipasto on the coffee table; it may have been neatly arranged once, but
the presence of a toddler has destroyed whatever arrangement there was in
favor of artful chaos.

Kit waves at Quentin. "Kit. Truth catcher for the Black Furies. Also known
as Little-Cat," she greets in return. She shoots a grin at Rina as she
catches the comment of Rina being Daddy. "Why am I not suprised," she
says.

Quentin ducks his head a bit at the ruffling, his smile edging into a
slight grin. "Sure, I'll have a coke.. Salem'll have anything but Dr.
Pepper, probably," he says, as he heads over towards the antipasto with
the unerring course of a growing cub offered a large plate of food.
"Kit-Cat?" An amused look towards Kit, "Good to meet you."

Rina returns to the kitchen and pours several drinks. There is a
half-empty glass of red wine on the counter, probably hers. "Kit, you
gonna have anything?"

Salem reaches over and turns off the heat under the well-tamed potatoes,
then takes the pot from the stove and drains the water out into the sink.

Kit shakes her head at Rina and licks her teeth with an amused expresion
playing about her lips. "Nah. I caught something in the woods before I
left," she says mischeiviously. She watches Quentin curously, trying to
judge from his reaction how long he's been garou. Her teeth bare slightly
at the alteration of her deed name, but she turns it into a smile,
guessing he ment no harm.

Mm. Antipasto. Quentin steals a few rolls of meat from the tray, glancing
over with a rueful smile towards Kit again as he does so. "Oh, uh. Right,
I suppose I should give the rest of my introduction and such.. not that
there's much of it. I'm just a cub, galliard, and that's pretty much it."

Rina pours a Coke, and a glass of apple juice, and takes them out to the
coffee table. She drops off the juice with a glance to Jenny, and a faint,
fragile smile.

There is a light knocking on the door from outside.

Kit looks to the door as she gives a tired yawn that exposes her teeth.
"More folks?" she asks curiously.

Rina glances toward the sound, and then goes to open the door. She is
wearing satin jeans and a velvet long-sleeved t-shirt, clothes that fail
to quite disguise the weight she has lost.

The gothic is at the door, dressed in his morbid attire as always. Peering
out from behind the veil of black and blue streaked hair, Jeremy offers a
quick smile to Rina, holding up a bag. "I brought cornbread cupcakes."

Quentin, as he collects the coke dropped off at the coffee table, glances
after Rina with a hint of concern in his expression while she's not
looking; briefly chewing on his lower lip, he remains silent as to
whatever his thoughts are, stuffing the roll of meat into his mouth to
occupy it. Once he swallows it, he calls over towards the door, "Hey bro!"

Rina's smile is brief, fleeting. "Hey, glad you could make it. C'mon in."

Salem, meanwhile, remains busy in the kitchen, turning boiled potatoes
into a smooth mash. He pauses to look up and nod in a satisfied way at the
latest arrival, and somewhere in this the Philodox has gotten himself a
glass of ice water.

Jenny glances across to the door--and a slightly chilly smile comes to her
face. She returns her attention to Angela and the Legos.

Kit does a double take at the new visitor. Her right eyebrow quirks up and
a rather large smirk adorns her face. "Wow. I guess wonders /will/ never
cease. Long time no see," she says to the new kin.

Making his way inside, Jeremy peers out from behind his glasses, handing
the bag to Rina. "Thanks for inviting me. Happy Thanksgiving." He says
softly, then turns his attention over towards Kit. A smile tugs on his
muzzle as he makes his way over to her. "Hey there killer."

Quentin quirks one brow slightly, then.. and shrugs one shoulder in a
rather careless dismissal, turning back to settle down onto the couch's
edge and setting his glass down on the coffee table. He falls silent once
more, glancing over towards the legos the kid's putting together as he
gnaws on some more antipasto.

"Hey Q!" Jeremy says, belatedly as he finally scopes around the room, then
grins over to him. He looked just as shocked to see Kit here, as she was
to him. He smiles, then reaches into his pocket, pulling out a lil wrapped
package, tossing it over to the cub.

Rina takes the muffins and introduces him, briefly. "Um, Jeremy, Walker
Kin...this's Jenny, I don't think you guys have met. And our daughter
Angela."

Quentin glances back up, flashing back over a quick smile. "Hey man. Good
to see you again.. looks like I'll be back in the city again, though."

Jenny gives Jeremy a nod, and then returns her attention to building...
whatever that is Angela seems to be building.

As well, the galliard cub raises a hand to catch the package thrown over,
eying it curiously. "What's this?"

"Christmas present. Hi Jenny." Jeremy says as he waves to the other woman,
rocking a tad on the balls of his feet.

"Little early for Christmas, isn't it?" Salem steps out of the kitchen,
wiping his hands. He looks over at Rina. "Potatoes are done. Need anything
else?"

Rina returns to the kitchen, distracted by the task of getting everything
to the same place at the same time. "I gotta do the gravy," she murmurs,
edging around Salem and handing off a weird implement. "You mash. And then
there's a couple of folding tables and some chairs in the corner, can ya
set'em up?"

"It's already done." Salem's gotten familiar with Rina's kitchen. Fear.
"Didn't know which bowl you wanted them in, though." He pauses before
going for the tables and chairs to study her face. He moves off to set
things up before saying anything more, though.

Rina pages: Determined. She's keeping it together because she has things
to do.

"Oh, thanks.." It is early for Christmas, though, so Quentin just looks
over the package curiously before setting it off to one side-- a crooked
smile offered back over, as he looks to Jeremy, "So, uh. How've you been?
I heard there was some stuff that went down at your place.."

Jeremy rubs at his neck. "Yah.. Looks like your buddy Craig popped an
became one of us. He was staying in my place for a bit, but.. I guess...
Renee snagged him, which is a shame because I think he would have made
great Walker potential."

Quentin's nose scrunches up a bit, "Yeah, I've been stuck out in
no-civilization-land for the last few weeks for no real reason, I guess.."
He shrugs one shoulder, reaching over to snag an olive from the midst of
the antipasto, "..well, I've met a lot of new people anyway. Aiyana fights
dirty, too. Try not to piss her off."

"Thanks," Rina says distractedly. She rattles around in the kitchen,
cooking the pasta and carrots and doing last-minute things like gravy.

Jeremy laughs softly and bites his lip. "I know she fights dirty."

"You would have been out there for a stretch anyway," Salem says in
passing, as he starts setting up folding tables.

"Yeah," Quentin says, flashing over a grin, "I'm sure you do.." He glances
up over to Salem at his comment, and bobs his head a little, "Like I said,
I met a lot of people.. got to hang out with 'licia some more.. oh!" As
though reminded of something, he straightens, looking over to Jeremy with
a determined expression, "You have a laptop that plays DVDs, bro?"

Jeremy nods his head. "Of course. I have it out in the car. Why, whats
up?"

Quentin's hands come together, clasping before him as he replies, "I need
you to bring it out to the bawn sometime.. with the Star Wars Trilogy." A
moment's pause, before he explains in earnest tones, "Sepdet-rhya has
never in her life seen a movie. And she /needs/ to understand who Yoda
is."

Jenny stifles a laugh. "I think she already does, if I remember her
right."

Salem glances over at Quentin, for a moment, one eyebrow on the rise. Then
he snorts softly and continues setting up tables and chairs for the coming
feast.

"Nah, I talked to her about it," Quentin says with a shake of his head,
seeming quite serious about this, "She has no idea /who/ Yoda is, or why
everyone keeps comparing her to him. So I promised to show her, since she
can't really go into a theatre."

Jeremy chuckles and nods his head as he sits down at the table as well,
next to Quentin. "I can bring the laptop to the farm, but I do not think
they allow electronics on the bawn."

Rina's voice sounds bemused, from the kitchen. "What? Why not?"

Quentin shrugs one shoulder, "Well, she can go to the farmhouse. I think
that's about as far as she usually goes from the bawn, though.. so that's
fine." He looks over towards the kitchen with a chuckle, then, calling, "I
think it's the whole 'big wyld spirit' thing, Rina."

"Luddite prejudice," Salem says, rather scornfully. "They get ansty even
at firearms. Except, of course, when said firearms are used to kill
Dancers."

There a clatter of stirring in a metal pot. "No shit," Rina agrees. "Big
wyld spirit can *bite* me."

"Renee went on this big 'the Glass Walkers are too close to the Weaver'
rant on me one time," Quentin observes, reaching over to pick at the
antipasto some more, "I get the feeling that the wilderness-types are even
worse than she is about that, too."

"Rangers," Rina mutters. She comes out of the kitchen with a stack of
plates, heading for the table. "Hey, Bug," she calls, "this is where you
help, okay?"

Angela jumps up, forsaking her legos. "I'm'a help Daddeeeee!"

Jenny watches with a slightly wry expression as the sudden tornado of
toddler energy departs.

Salem snorts at mention of Renee and then echoes Rina's mutter of,
"Rangers." Shaking his head, he sets up the last chair.

Quentin glances over with a grin, as the toddler.. well.. toddles over in
Rina's direction, amusement plain on his face as he pushes up to his feet.

Jeremy grins at all the conversation and grows silent himself. Scary
goth's don't laugh, really.

Rina sets out the plates, and beckons Angela to follow her to the kitchen.
"Okay, we gotta give everybody a fork." Taking a handful of them from a
drawer, she crouches down and hands half to the little girl. "So
everywhere you see a plate, you put a fork next to it, okay?"

Angela nods solemnly and takes her forks off toward the table with an air
of great importance.

Jenny watches the little girl, her smile deepening. She gets up and goes
over to help, taking the knives out and following Angela's progress.

Salem moves away from the table, drifting over toward Quentin and Jeremy.
He leans against the back of the couch with folded arms, watching the
trio, the little girl in particular.

Rina watches mother and child for a moment, and then goes back into the
kitchen. "Hey Jack, you wanna carve or should I? You ever done it?"

"Kids," Quentin murmurs amusedly, watching the little girl carry the forks
around the table so very gravely.. taking a sip of his soda, just hanging
out for the moment.

Salem rubs at his chin. "Once or twice." He straightens up from his lean
and follows Rina toward the kitchen.

Rina pulls out the turkey, setting it on the stove and getting out the
carving tools. She hands them off to Salem, and sets down a platter for
the turkey meat; then she begins dishing out everything else, working
around him.

Quentin leans his hip against the couch as the table's set up and the
dishes set out, keeping clear and out of the way for all the rushing
about. "Just let me know," he offers helpfully, "If you need another hand
or two."

Rina zips back and forth, setting out ice water glasses for everyone, and
bowls of carrots and peas and mashed potatoes. There is pasta, too, with a
garlicky marinara, and a dish of stuffing with bits of apple, pear and
walnut. The gravy is last, getting a final whisking over the heat before
Rina pours it into a gravy boat and brings that out. "Um, who needs
drinks?"

Salem slices into the bird with care; it's been a fair number of years
since he's applied a knife to a roasted fowl. The platter's soon stocked
with meat both white and dark, the legs and wings laid neatly at one end.
Finally, he sets down the carving knife and fork and carries the platter
out toward the table. "I could use one."

"Got mine still," Quentin replies, raising it as though in salute as he
steps over towards the table at last.. looking over the meal with slightly
wide eyes. All of it spread out like that is more food than he's seen at
one time in about a year.

"What'd'y'want, Jack? I got Martinelli's..." Rina pulls down a couple more
glasses and fills them.

Jenny tugs Angela toward a seat. "Hey, bring out the phone books too," she
says.

The halfmoon sets the turkey platter down on an empty spot near the center
of the table. "Surprise me," he tells Rina, glancing her way.

Rina fetches the phonebooks first, dropping them onto a chair for Angela
to sit on. "Your seat, carina angelina," she says lightly. Then she
returns to deal with drinks.

Quentin guess-timates where the others will be sitting, given where the
phone books and the head of the table is, and chooses a chair to settle
down comfortably; his drink set down beside his plate, he leans back to
look after Rina with a crooked grin. "Thanks, by the way, Rina.."

"There, Bug," Jenny murmurs, as she settles the little girl atop her phone
books. She sits down beside her daughter, then.

"Need help with anything else?" Salem asks Rina, still standing.

Rina carries the two glasses out from the kitchen. "No, I got it... where
y'wanna sit?" She is distracted, of course, glancing over the table to see
that everything is as it should be.

Salem glances over toward the head of the table, his mouth thinning, his
expression turning briefly dark. He shakes the mood off quickly, though,
or at least the visible evidence of it. "You have to ask?" His tone is
forcibly light.

Rina looks back to him, a flicker of bitter irony in her smile. "I'll take
point, then, if you don't wanna." She sets her own glass at the head of
the table, and passes his.

Angela asks, brightly, "What's point?"

Quentin glances between the two with a brow's lift.. and then he looks
over towards Angela, flashing her a brief grin. "The front. Like, the
front of the table."

The little girl blinks across at him. Her mouth shapes an "oh" and then
she lowers her eyes to the plate.

There's a knock at the studio's door, brief and curt.

Salem takes the glass from Rina, inclining his head slightly. "Not
tonight," he says, and takes the chair to her right.

Rina sits at the head of the table, and chews on her lower lip. "Yeah."
She glances around to everyone, offering a half-smile. "Jenny? You wanna
say somethin' eloquent?" she asks hopefully.

Quentin glances over towards the door, raising a brow. "Hey, um.. is
someone gonna get that?"

Rina glances over to the door, startled. She abandons her post, to get the
door. Opening it, she manages a shallow, quick half-smile. "Hey, you're
just in time."

Tatt shifts the weight of the guitar strap over her shoulder, gaze hidden
by a pair of shades rendered useless by this time of night. The Strider is
clad in black leather and PVC, looking like she just emerged from a club.
"Evenin'," the lanky Galliard grunts, with a bob of her head. "Heard this
was the place fer orphans tonight." She sniffs dryly, licks her lips.

Surprise flickers across Salem's face at the identity of the new arrival.
"Well." He pushes back a chair and stands. "I'll fetch another chair."

Rina half-smiles, wryly. "C'mon, sit down. You missed Jack chopping up the
turkey, but we haven't started eating yet." She returns to the table.

A tip of Quentin's chair back lets him crane his neck to check on the
newcomer, surprise as well registering in green eyes as he catches sight
of her. "Hey, Tatt," he calls over, raising one hand in a two-fingered
wave, "Good to see ya.."

The Strider moves hesitantly into the studio, as though afraid of sullying
the event. She takes a moment to check her surroundings--and the
company--before removing the shades and setting her guitar by the door.
"Hola," she rasps, her topaz gaze unfocused but vaguely friendly. She
pauses, unsure of what to do next.

Salem nudges Quentin over and sets an extra chair at the table between
himself and the young Galliard. "Sit," he tells his packmate. It's half
invitation, half command.

Tatt runs a rather shaky hand through her hair, and readily obeys, for
once. She eyes the spread on the table with the look of a hungry dog, but
restrains herself wordlessly.

Rina sits at the head of the table, and chews on her lower lip until Tatt
sits down. She glances around to everyone, offering a half-smile. "Jenny?
You wanna say somethin' eloquent?" she asks hopefully.

Salem resumes his seat and turns a mismatched pair of eyes over toward the
Fury kinswoman.

Angela stares at the strange-looking woman with toddler tactlessness.

Jenny glances over, startled, and then passes her water glass to the
woman. "Um. Sure, hon." She takes a breath, and looks over to her
daughter, giving a secret smile to the girl. "We thank Gaia gor the gifts
of the earth, and the gifts of the heart. And for everyone here with us
tonight, in body and in spirit."

Quentin's lips quirk into a smile that's perhaps meant as silent
encouragement to the 'Strider, before as Jenny starts to speak he looks
over attentively-- leaning a bit closer to the table, hands resting on the
edge, as he listens with a slight bow of his head.

Tatt shifts her weight against the chair, ink-marked fingers lacing
together loosely against the edge of the table in some long-lost echo of
'saying grace'. A glance towards the Walker cub, and a small wry smile.
She seems to relax, minutely.

Salem mutters a quiet, "Amen," in answer to Jenny's words, his gaze
shifting toward Rina where she sits at the head of the table.

"Thanks." Rina's face is ashen, as she starts passing the food around.

"Amen," Quentin echoes Salem's own voice under his breath, pushing himself
away from the table's edge as he straightens and reaches over to accept a
bowl passed along, emptying some potatos onto his plate and offering it
over towards Tatt along with an quick grin. "So how've you been, anyway?
Haven't seen you 'round much.."

Tatt clears her throat as she takes the bowl, with a sidelong glance
towards Salem. "Busy," she answers Quentin, with a small shrug. "Traveling
some. Southwest."

Quentin's head tips in a slight nod, as he takes the next bowl passed down
the line, "S'pose that explains it, yeah.."

Rina passes things around, giving a quick smile to Angelina. "You have to
try some shells, OK, Bug? I made you daddy's sauce."

The little girl clangs her fork or her plate. "Daddy sauce! Marinar!"

Quentin just manages to choke back a laugh, casting over a grin towards
the toddler with a shake of his head. "That," he observes, even as he
leans back in his chair to look at his now-full plate, "Is a very cute
kid."

[Rest of dinner handwaved.  After, Salem drives Q home, then returns,
intending to help Rina with cleanup.]