Chili Evening

[hazlogs]

It is currently 20:35 Pacific Time on Sun Dec 8 2002.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is foggy. The temperature is 37 degrees
Fahrenheit (2 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric
pressure reading is 30.11 and falling, and the relative humidity is 100
percent. The dewpoint is 37 degrees Fahrenheit (2 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing Crescent Moon phase (28% full).

Barnyard

The lane wends its way back and around the farmhouse to here, where it
widens into a broad, grassy sward contained only by the woods which
encircle it on three sides. Buildings break up the purity of the
landscape: an open-sided structure which serves as a garage and the big
barn, empty of livestock, to the east. A good-sized vegetable and herb
garden furrows the land south of the barn, while a pyramid-like pile of
rocks, of similar consistency to the gravel of the lane, rests a few yards
south of the garage.

North of the buildings, the fields have long been fallow, hastening a
conversion from farmland to natural prairie. A sliding glass door allows
admittance to the farmhouse, the interior obscured by Levolor(tm) blinds
in a wood-grain pattern. The lane leads out around the house to the
southwest. The discerning can just barely pick out the beginnings of a
faint path into the woods towards the southeast.

Catherine is following Alicia. They've come up from the woods, talking
quietly.

Gary is sitting, leaning against the barn, staring up at the sky.

Salem steps out from the forest, hood up and hands buried in his coat
pockets as he stalks toward the house.

Alicia stops chattering as she glances about, then looks over her shoulder
towards Salem with a warm smile.

Movement brings Gary's head out of the clouds. "Hey," he says,
energetically, as Cathy and Alicia reappear. "Cool. Hi."

Catherine, on the other hand, spots Gary. She grins towards Alicia, before
heading over to the Fang. "Hey again."

Gary levers himself to his feet. "You guys, um, clear up whatever?"

Catherine nods, smiling and moving to stand by the cub, before looking
over to the two older Garou. "Yeah. Tell y'about it in a bit."

Salem pulls black the hood of the long black coat and gives his packmate
an unsmiling nod of greeting. "Evening, Alicia, Catherine. Gary." There's
a brief pause before he says the Fang cub's name.

Gary's smile is genuine. "Good," he says, quietly, before glancing to
Salem, and then immediately looking down again. "Salem, sir. Evening."

"Mm.. Salem. Hey." Alicia says as she hooks her thumbs in the belt loops
of her jeans. "How's it going?"

Catherine nods a bit to the Walker elder. "Salem-rhya," she mumbles
politely. "Comin' inside, Gary? I'ma make some chilli rice in a bit."

Salem makes a noncommital noise in reply to Alicia. "It's going," he
answers. "Coming inside?" The Walker seems fairly eager -- in a dour kind
of way -- to get out of the cold.

Gary just nods, and follows her.

Catherine slides the glass door at the rear of the farmhouse open, and
walks inside.

Gary slides the glass door at the rear of the farmhouse open, and walks
inside.

Alicia ponders for a moment, then shakes her head. "Nah, ganna go home. I
got some stuff to do in the city. I'm picking up where I left off."

Salem pauses in his turn toward the farmhouse to look back at Alicia, one
eyebrow rising. "Oh?"

Alicia nods her head. "Talked to Nicodemus the other day, an we're ganna
set up a surveillance of the wherehouse. I may end up doing some stuff
with Renee in lupus, but, who knows. She's not real happy with me as it
is. No biggie."

Salem grunts. "Be careful. I hear you almost got turned inside out the
last time you went on surveillance with renee."

"Well, I'm alive, so, its not all that bad." Grinning, Alicia ducks her
head to him. "We woulda toasted it if we could have went to the big an
fuzzy, but we didn't wanna fuck the veil all too hell. The thing was
strong, all crazy arm'd an shit."

"Rule number one," says the Walker, looking perfectly serious. "Never
start a confrontation in a busy area. People have a way of... surprising
you." He shakes his head, looking rueful for a moment, then turns back
toward the farmhouse. "But, as I said. Be careful."

"Yah. I will be." Alicia says again, sighing lightly to herself. Hitching
a shoulder, she starts for the driveway.

Sliding the glass door open, you walk through into the dining room of the
farmhouse.

Farmhouse: Kitchen and Dining Room

Catherine is, by this point, at the kitchen, armed with pots and pans,
rice and chilli sauce. Gary is looking for a grater and some cheese. "Mr
Salem, d'you want some too?" the Gaian cub inquires, gesturing to the
large can of chilli.

Salem pauses, turning a dark eye toward the pair. In the light of the
kitchen, the Walker looks tired, his eyes shadowed. "Hm," he says, after a
moment's consideration. "Yes, actually. Thank you." He heads for the hall
closet, shrugging out of his coat as he does so.

Gary finally finds it, stashed in a fruit bowl, and starts grating
energetically, if not particularly skillfully. Luckily, grating rarely
requires skill.

Catherine sets a healthy amount of rice in a pan to boil, then hunts for a
can-opener. Finding it, she begins battling the can of chilli sauce,
opening it /without/ getting it everywhere. Success for Cubkind!

Salem returns from the hallway with cellphone at his ear, listening. He
glances again at the pair of self-appointed chefs as he stalks toward the
fridge, getting a bottle of water and taking it back to the table. He
doesn't say a word into the phone, only listens and eventually hits a few
buttons.

Gary eventually finishes grating and steals a few slivers of cheese.

Catherine checks the rice, then begins warming up chilli. Checking the
cupboards again, she snags a few plates down and murmurs towards Gary and
Salem, "Drinks?"

Gary puts the bowl of cheese on the counter, and sticks the grater in the
sink. "Milk," he says, as he starts setting the table. Knife, fork,
plates.

Salem shakes his head, finally taking the phone from his ear and clipping
it to his belt. "Got it." He's taken a chair near the head of the table
and leans back, stretching slightly before taking a swallow of bottled
water.

Catherine dishes rice into one bowl, chilli con carnie into another, and
brings both over with the cheese. "Help y'selves," she murmurs, reaching
for spoons to drop into each. "Don't know how hot it is. Never tried this
brand." Then, she heads for the fridge, pulling out the milk and pouring
two glasses; one for her, one for Gary.

True to his word, Gary has never had chili before, and it's evidently
pretty hot, for him. "'s /good/," he manages.

Salem apparantly _has_ had chili before, and he nods a curt approval. "It
isn't difficult to make from scratch," he remarks after a bite. "Not
really."

Catherine plunks herself down after passing Gary his drink, nabbing rice,
chili and grated cheese for herself, mashing it together before taking a
few bites. "Mmmf. I know that, but I don't think we got the stuff in for
it. Still, this stuff's ok."

Gary downs some milk quickly. Then he asks, "So if you're one of the Glass
Walkers, sir, why do you seem to hang around here so much?"

"Temporary assignment," the Walker answers, stirring his spoon slowly
through the chili. "One month stint as Guardian."

Catherine gulps down her chili like a starving wolf, then once it's
finished, her milk goes down the same way. Then... "I'ma go read forra
bit. See y'in a bit, Gary, Mr Salem..."

Salem gives the Gaian cub a nod as she heads out.

Gary blinks slowly. "Sept have a lot of those?"

Salem frowns, thinking. "Several, but the more the better." He takes
another bite and a swallow of water, then continues. "This past summer,
the caern was attacked by a force of Black Spiral Dancers, did they tell
you that?"

Gary chokes on his chili. "It what?" Evidently not.

A few quiet footfalls on the stairs, and Ashley enters the kitchen. The
waifish girl's hair is damp, and she deftly braids it as she makes her way
to the refrigerator.

Gary says, "Hey. Never did catch your name, did I?" He /sounds/ friendly. 

There's a pot of chili on the stove.

Salem looks up, regarding Ashley with an unreadable expression for a
moment before answering Gary. "For a period this summer, we lost the
caern. They attacked in force, and our Guardians were... well,
overwhelmed." He grimaces faintly, then digs his spoon back into his bowl
of chili. "Since then, Sepdet has gotten several Garou to accept a month
of Guardianship, to bolster the regulars."

"You never asked," the pale girl answers in Gary's direction, lowly. A bag
of vegetables--perhaps the only ones present in the farmhouse, denizens
considered--is pulled from the fridge. Ashley sets a cutting-board on the
counter and chooses a knife, methodically.

Gary seems torn between the Caern and the to-him annoying cub. Eventually,
he settles on both. "Well, I'm Gary. Who're you?" Then he practically
pounces on Salem. "How'd we get it back?"

"In short, by force." Salem's no Galliard, that much is clear.
"Fortunately, before they had a chance to defile it completely."

Ashley chops vegetables one by one, falling silent instead of answering
Gary's question. She keeps one ear trained on the Walker's story.

"Do you wanna go for "in long," or should I ask someone else?" Gary seems
to have forgotten most of his instinctive reaction to Salem, in his
enthusiasm.

Salem fixes Gary with a look that's almost as unencouraging as the ones
he's been getting from Ashley; the lid over the left, white eye tends to
droop a little lower than its brother, giving the Walker's stare a rather
lopsided quality. Then he sighs and sits back, pushing away his empty
bowl. "It's a long story. An _extremely_ long story."

"..It's really boring," the pale girl interjects, as an afterthought. She
assembles the chopped vegetables into a sandwich with deft, quick hands.

Enthusiasm wars with that instinctive reaction. Eventually, though not as
subdued as he was before, he says, "Right. I'll bug someone else." Then he
adds, not looking at Ashley, "So I'll just assume you don't have a name
and call you Hey You, then?"

Salem's mouth thins, tightening. "Her name is Ashley. She's a Get of
Fenris cub, Ahroun by auspice." He eyes the girl and her chopping of plant
matter. "And still a vegan, I take it?"

Ashley wipes her hands neatly on a dish-towel before turning to regard the
Walker. "I haven't even /shifted/ yet," she murmurs, a hint of frustration
surfacing in her tone.

Gary looks at the Get with sudden complete sympathy. "No wonder you're so
pissy," he blurts.

Salem arches an eyebrow at the girl. "No?" The surprise in his voice is
clear. "I would have thought that your elders would have taken care of
that already."

The cellphone at the Walker's belt gives a burring little ring just as
he's finishing his sentence. He frowns, then answers it with a curt,
"Yes?"

From afar, Rina sounds... disturbed, crying perhaps, her voice a little
strained. "Hey, Jack..."

Ashley gives the other cub a withering look, but remains silent as the
Walker answers his phone.

Salem's dour, tight expression changes quite abruptly, turning concerned.
"Rina?" He pushes his chair back and stands, moving toward the hallway,
the cubs forgotten. His bowl and spoon are left behind, presumably for
Gary to clear away. "Where are you?"

Gary admits, "Or you could just be that way naturally," quietly, so as not
to interrupt Salem's conversation.

Ashley leans back against the counter, watching Salem thoughtfully. She
ignores Gary's latest insight.

From afar, Rina swallows, and there is a barely-audible sniffle.
'Driving,' she says weakly. 'I-- I think, is it okay if I c-come by?'

Salem's voice drifts back to the kitchen from the hallway. "Of course.
I'll meet you outside, by the front of the house." The tone of voice he's
using gives every indication that the person on the other end is Very
Important. He's already fetching his coat back from the closet,
one-handed.

Ashley sniffs once, turning her attention back to her sandwich. "It's
always an emergency," she observes under her breath, before taking a bite.

Gary gives the man a wave, and goes back to eating his chili.

The Fang cub's wave goes wasted, bouncing off the Walker's back with nary
a reaction to it, like a draindrop bouncing off a duck.

From afar, Rina seems to gather herself, steadying her voice. "You holdin'
up aright?"

The Fang cub doesn't seem to care. After contemplating his chili for a
moment, he asks Ashley, "So is it that you're picky, or I'm just
annoying?"

Ashley finishes off her sandwich in what seems like two or three
bites--impressive, for such a slip of a girl. She blinks owlishly at the
boy as she chews, actually considering the question. "I don't... spend a
lot of time around people," she says after swallowing. Not apologetic;
simply an explanation.

Salem snorts in reply to the person on the phone. "Too many damned trees,
but yes, I'm fine." He's working at getting his coat one while holding the
cellphone to his ear; he has to switch hands once or twice.

From afar, Rina takes a careful breath. "Good. I... I'm gonna chill out a
little... and then go on."

Long distance to Rina: Salem pauses a beat, then says, quietly, "I'll be
outside. Feeling the need for some fresh air anyway."

Gary considers this. "By choice, or because of training and stuff?"

Salem's voice lowers. Between this and the fact that he's moving further
into the front of the house make whatever he says further inaudible to the
two cubs in the kitchen.

The girl lifts one thin shoulder. "I never had much time for it. I was
always working out or studying for school or something." She gazes down at
her conservative shoes for a moment, then moves to rinse off her plate in
the sink.

From afar, Rina | "'K. I'll be another... Idunno. Ten minutes before I'm
down there."

Gary says, "...OK." He pokes at his chili. "You got time now. Got the
inclination?"

Long distance to Rina: Salem | "Understood. See you soon." *click*

In the front of the house, Salem clicks off the cellphone, finally, and
heads out the front door.

[...]

Lane

Stretching a good quarter mile from the road, this gravel lane leads back
to the Escrowe farm. Trees line the lane, leaves of brown and orange, red
and gold coloring the branches and carpeting the ground around them. In
the distance, the farmhouse looms above the treetops, gleaming white as
the snow from its yearly coat of paint. Silence prevails here, save for
the rustling of the tall grasses in the fields when the wind blows.

The front entrance to the farmhouse is on the porch alongside the
gravelled road which continues on around the eastern side of the house
back to the barnyard. The opposite end of the lane turns back west to
empty out onto Sunrise Road.

There is nothing, at the end of the path, for a time; with the moon this
dark, it's hard to see.

Salem's boots crunch audibly on the gravel of the lane. His breath puffs
out visibly in the cold air -- well, actually, that's smoke from the
cigarette he lighted only a moment after stepping out the front door of
the farmhouse.

"Miz Rina?" a puzzled Cat calls out, suddenly wishing he hadn't left his
sketchbook on the porch steps. The boy is standing out where the lane
meets lawn, trying to peer into the darkness there.

After a while the boy's eyes can pick out the silhouette, out there. She
is walking toward the farm slowly, and her steps soon become audible.

Salem drops his cigarette and crushes it underfoot as he moves forward. He
pauses to eyeball the Walker cub bemusedly for a moment, then focusses his
attention on the arrival.

Rina waits until she comes close enough to be seen, and then answers Cat.
"Hey, kiddo." She lifts her head a touch, hands thrust in jacket pockets,
her shoulders a bit hunched.

Cat's confusion turns to delight when it really -is- Miss Rina. He stands
where he is though, waiting with childish impatience. "H'lo Miz Rina," he
greets solemnly when she's close enough to hear his soft spoken words.
"How're you?"

"Evening, Rina," Salem greets quietly, stalking over with hands buried in
the pockets of the big black coat.

Rina reaches him and stops, tipping her head and managing a fragment of a
smile. She doesn't think up a good answer before Salem speaks--and the
look in her eyes, when she lifts them, betrays a need to evade the
question. "Hi, Jack," she offers, hoarse and somehow... sheepish, as if
she has done something wrong.

Cat blinks, turning over his shoulder to wonder where the Walker Philodox
had appeared from. "Hi Salem-rhya," he adds, clasping his hands behind his
back. "Miz Rina's come to visit again." A note of pride, on that little
comment of perception.

Salem refrains from ruffling Cat's hair as he moves past the boy to stand
near Rina, forming the third point in a not-quite-equilateral triangle.
"So I see. To what do we owe the pleasure?" The question's directed toward
the kinswoman. Though he's relieved enough to see her, the note of concern
that she heard over the phone is still present in his voice.

Rina shakes her head minutely, and ducks it, looking down at the gravel.
"Nothin'. I guess. I just... wanted company."

When Salem moves past him, the cub follows, like an obedient puppy. "Do
you want to come inside?" Cat offers, head canted. "I drew another
picture, an' colored the last one of Gabriel."

Salem tugs his coat closed against the chill, looking over at Rina for her
answer.

Rina swallows, and looks to Cat with a faint smile. "I'd love to see
s'more art, yeah."

Cat kind of quirks a pleased smile, glancing to Salem to make sure it's
okay.

"Let's go inside, then," the Philodox says, quite readily. "Come on."

Rina falls into step with them both, heading for the house.

Rina follows the two of them inside, silently.

Salem holds the door open for the pair of them and, after closing it,
sheds the big black coat. The circles under the halfmoon's eyes are more
visible now that he's in the light. "Have a seat," he invites Rina. "Can I
get you anything? Drink, et cetera?"

Cat had stopped to grab his book and pencils, and now proudly sets them on
the coffee table. "I can't wait till half moon 'cause Rusty said he'd take
me to visit Gabriel," the cub announces to...well, everyone.

Rina glances over to him, and worry flickers into her eyes. They question
without asking, and she says, "Water maybe. I don'need anything."

Salem just shakes his head minutely in answer to Rina's unspoken question.
"Water we can do." His gaze flickers toward Cat, one corner of his mouth
tugging briefly upwards. Then he vanishes into the kitchen, hanging up his
coat on the way.

The cub takes a seat on folded legs, while he eagerly flips to the newest
sketch, those wilted miniature buttercups. "I found a few by the stream,"
he murmurs, almost confidentially. "The stream is okay. And I finished
that other drawing, too." He flips to that one. "It took -hours-." But,
although the lines are crooked, it is very nicely colored, no smudges or
outside-of-the-lines bits.

Rina grins, a touch of shyness in it. She is not used to smiling, anymore,
and the expression seems less than comfortable; it soon leaves. "I like
the flowers. Didja ever see-- no, I guess y'didn't. I did a mural in the
Gnawers' church, where they hang out... it's a stream landscape kinda like
yours."

By the time Salem comes back, the two of them are talking animatedly about
what Cat likes to draw, and what Rina likes to paint, and the possibility
of art classes for the boy sometime.

Salem returns with the glass of water for the kinswoman and settles down
in a chair near her and the cub, legs stretched out and crossed at the
ankles. He watches and listens -- silent -- with tired eyes and a fond
expression; but he smiles even less than Rina does.

Art classes...it's the perfect end to a splendid day, Cat muses. He
napped, drew, made sandwiches with Rusty again, went walking, drew some
more, napped again, talked with Laura-rhya, and drew again...now he might
even get art classes. "I'm going to sleep now, Salem-rhya," Cat murmurs
softly, packing up the pencils and book. "Is that okay?" He's not really
asking for permission, it's just his way of saying 'excuse me'.

Salem makes a 'go ahead' gesture anyway. It's all part of the ritual.
"Sleep well, Cat," the Philodox says quietly.

Rina gives the boy a smile, the first relaxed smile that reaches all the
way past the sadness in her eyes. "'Night, Cat."

The boy vanishes upstairs.

Salem shifts his weight slightly in the armchair, doing a subtle stretch
of neck and shoulders. "Mnf."

Rina perches on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on her knees, dark
eyes watching him. "You gonna talk, or do I hafta start choppin' off
fingers or somethin'?" The wry half-smile says the threat, at least, is in
jest--but her gaze is soberly concerned.

Salem makes a soft, dourly amused 'heh' noise and settles back, rubbing
absently at the side of his neck. "Just tired," he explains. "Slept rather
poorly last night."

She narrows her eyes at him. "Last week is more like it," she mutters.
Then she bows her head, directing that black gaze to the floor, letting
her unruly hair fall forward to conceal her expression. "Usual? Or--" One
hand comes up to cover her eyes, fingers raking up into her hair, her
forehead cradled in the palm. "If it's what happened with me, I'm sorry. I
know it makes things worse, and I--"

Salem is shaking his head even before she gets to the last word. "No. No."
He pauses, lips thinned, then shrugs, looking wry. "Well. Not entirely. I
often have difficulty sleeping."

Rina nods minutely, and doesn't look at him. "I know," she answers
quietly.

Salem gets up from the armchair and joins her on the couch. "Some nights
are worse than others. I'll be fine, though." He leans back, stretching
out long legs and crossing them at the ankles. "Promise."

Rina's hands drop, to hang listless between her knees. She glances over to
him, and then down again, with a nod. "Aright."

Salem tilts his head, studying her. "And you? You sounded, ah, upset on
the phone."

Rina swallows, and discomfort flickers across her expression. Her answer
is low, hesitant. "I just... didn't wanna be alone tonight."

Salem laces his fingers together, resting them on his stomach. His gaze is
sympathetic. "Ah." He hesitates as if searching for something more to say,
then asks, "Have you been having any problems with our, mnh, Russian
friends?"

Rina shakes her head minutely. "No," she murmurs. "I been... stayin' in
mostly. Need to get in touch with Silvio, see how things are on the
street. Whether he's had trouble from them."

Salem nods. "Let me know?" He sighs minutely. "I feel very...
disconnected, out here, hearing everything by word of mouth."

Rina looks over to him, eyes half-veiled behind damp dark hair. "What's to
hear?"

Salem grimaces. "This Neo-Night shit, mostly. And Lyra." He folds his arms
across his chest. "Not that the issues aren't being taken care of, but...
hrmf." Despite the sleep-dep bruises under his eyes, he seems restless.

Rina nods minutely, and rakes a hand back into her hair. "Yeah. I need to
go talk to her." Her voice remains the slightest bit unsteady, as if her
grip on it is tenuous. She seems to hold on to the conversation like an
anchor. Everyday things. Work that must be done.

"Quentin's all ready to go kill someone," the Philodox notes,
conversationally. "Of course. But he'll need help. He's not exactly...
experienced."

She swallows, and gives another quick nod. "Maybe I can give him a hand.
He still s'posed to stay here, or can he go to the city?"

"He's been back in the city since Thanksgiving or so," Salem says. "I'm
planning to Rite him as soon as I finish learning the ritual from Andrea."
He rubs at his jaw. "Cat, I'm thinking, will come back to the city with me
after the first of the year."

Rina nods. "He's stayin' with Mackenzie, or who?"

"Rhiannon, yes." One corner of Salem's mouth quirks subtly upwards. "Who's
happy to have him around, to cook if nothing else."

Rina nods, and stares darkly at the floor. "I'll get in touch. Oh. And I'm
gonna get Cat somethin' to start on... think I should get him a BB gun
f'now?" She looks over to him. "D'you want me to start with that, or teach
him handguns?"

Salem folds his arms again. "Frankly, Rina, you know guns better than I
do. I leave it to your judgement."

Rina's brow furrows, and she nods, looking at the floor again. "How old
d'you think he is?"

Salem tilts his head slightly, studying her for a second before answering.
"Surprisingly enough, he's fifteen."

Rina looks thoughtful for a moment. It's odd, that serious expression on
her face, when her eyes are still touched with red from crying. She gives
a nod. "I'll think a bit."

Salem continues to look at her, his gaze somber but almost calm now. "He's
getting rather good with that sketchbook, too, I've noticed."

The dark eyes look elsewhere, ahead and down as she nods a little; her
expression is bleak. "Yeah."

"Yes," he says, quietly. And then he's silent for a bit, his eyes still
resting on her face.

Whether it's due to the watching or something within her, Rina seems to
slowly be losing her grip on the anchor, sliding down into the black grief
again. She tries, visibly, to take a few deep breaths, to fend off the
darkness.

Salem stirs, sitting up. He clears his throat. "One of the Gaian kin
turned out to be Garou," he says, in a rather obvious effort to distract
her from the downward spiral.

Rina takes a breath. "Yeah?" Her voice, hoarse and unsteady, betrays the
struggle. "That's good news."

Salem nods. "Catherine. She's taking it rather well, too. Fortunately,
she's still the right age. Teenager, lime the rest of the cubs." Mindless
chatter isn't the halfmoon's strong suit -- far from it. But he's trying.
Hard. "Nobody dead when she Firsted, either, and no parental problems,
either. Her mother's kinfolk and in the know, and her father was Garou."
He grunts. "The only thing that could have made things _less_ traumatic is
if she'd had an actual kinfetch. As is, the only casualty was one
contaminated raccoon."

Rina nods minutely. "Urrah?" she asks.

Salem arches a brow, questioningly. "Who, Catherine?"

Rina nods, and glances over. "Where was she brought up?"

Salem ahs, then shakes his head. "I don't think so. They were living in
the trailer park near Kent Crossing. She was taking a walk in the woods
when it happened. I take it she'd been learning woods-lore from one of the
Wendigo." He quirks a faint, highly sardonic half-smile. "So no, not
urrah, not really."

Rina purses her lips in disappointment, and slouches, staring at the floor
again. "Too bad."

Salem shrugs. "Just because she's not enamored with the city _now_ doesn't
mean she won't be in future. _I_ didn't start out urrah, you know." He
lifts eyebrows at her, his expression wry.

Rina shakes her head, ducking it slightly. "No, I din't know," she says
softly. "Just that you're from Bosnia or Serbia or somethin'."

"Actually," he says, dryly, "I was born in Vermont." He lets that hang in
the air for a beat, then adds, "But my parents were Serbian nationals.
Kinfolk." He rubs at his jawline, scratching at the short black beard.
"When I was about fourteen, my father caved to tribal pressure and moved
the family overseas."

Rina swallows. "How long didja stay?"

"I was exiled right after the New Year," Salem answers, after a pause.
"1996." The humor, thin and wry as it was, slips away from him completely.
"So..." He frowns, calculating mentally. "About nine years, I suppose."

Rina bridges a hand across her eyes. "Jesus," she says quietly. "So you
were there for all of it."

Salem grunts. "Yes, well." There's a definite note of reluctance in his
voice. "Between the natural and the supernatural, the Sept kept... busy."

Rina nods. "Yeah. I get the not talking about it, now." She doesn't look
at him.

Salem shrugs, sinking back against the couch cushions and staring at the
dark window. "It's all history."

Rina swallows. "I... don't know what to do, anymore," she says softly.
Then she gets up from the couch, and moves woodenly toward the door.

Salem frowns, then pushes to his feet and follows her, hands shoved deep
into the pockets of his jeans. "We'll think of something," he replies.
"You, ah, heading back?"

Rina pauses, long enough to answer with a graceless shrug. "I don't know."
She steps out, then, onto the porch.

Salem exhales a breath in a silent sigh, the follows her out, still in his
shirtsleeves. "Let me walk you back to your bike, at least."

Rina ducks her head slightly, keeping her face averted from him. "You
don't have to."

Salem is insistant, though. "I want to." He falls into step with her,
easily matching her stride. Cold? What cold?

"Things... remind you," she whispers. "You get to the point where you're
okay and then somethin' reminds you."

Salem grimaces, his face tight. "I know," he murmurs. "I know."

"I'm sorry I lean on you so hard," Rina says quietly. "But I have to. I
get the feelin' you prefer this to the alternative."

Salem passes a hand back across his head, brushing a few stray lengths of
black hair away from his face. "Mm. It's no burden. Whatever I can do." He
eyes her sidelong. "If nothing else... it's good to see you."

Salem adds, "Always."

Rina blinks back tears, and nods a couple of times. She is silent the rest
of the way, and when they reach the bike she stays away from him, only
looking once over her shoulder to offer a grateful smile.

Then the girl mounts the Ducati, puts on her night shades, and speeds
away.