Platinum?

[hazlogs]

It is currently 16:18 Pacific Time on Fri Jan 17 2003.

Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 51 degrees Fahrenheit (10 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the northeast at 7 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.33 and falling, and the relative humidity is 58 percent. The dewpoint is 37 degrees Fahrenheit (2 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing Full Moon phase (98% full).

Whispering Pines - Jeremy's Apt

This apartment gives a look of high expense, not in the building itself, but it's contents. The walls and ceiling are painted pure black, and the carpet matches the darkness, save for some off color fuzz, being that it's a pretty new carpet. Across from the door in the living area is a large black entertainment center consisting of a not suprisingly black 42" TV, a large fully digital stereo system with CD and tape players, AM/FM stereo, a setting for the TV, and a useless setting called 'phono'. There are various gaming systems tucked into the entertainment center as well, baring names like Dreamcast, Playstation and Playstation 2, various systems with the word 'Nintendo' upon them... 3D0, NeoGeo, and finally something called a 'colecovision'. This system is complemented nicely by a high quality Bose surround sound speaker system. Two black leather couches are on the left and right of the living area, angled at the entertainment center. A large chest rests on the ground between the couches and the entertainment center, working as a foot rest. The only sources of light are the LEDs on the stereo, the TV, and a small blacklight bulb in the fan in the center of the apartment. A door to the right of the apartment leads to Roger's bedroom(+view) and the small kitchen is visable on the right side of the apartment, almost a part of the living room. The kitchen is lit up by a hallogen lamp, resting next to the front door, pointed towards it.

Salem's knock is quick, sharp, and authoritive.

Ebony is, for once, awake and at home, and not on his computer. Fancy that. From the kitchen he walks, a half-eaten apple in hand, pausing to check the monitor before opening up the various locks on the door and holding it wide for his tribal Elder to wander in. "Yo."

Salem stalks in. Draped around the tall Garou's form is a new coat, a long black leather duster, the tails of which fall nearly to his ankles. For once, he neglects to remove the black mirrored shades as he enters, and his whole manner is tense, restless and vaguely impatient. "Moon as it is, we should keep this quick," he says. "What do you have for me?"

Ebony lets the door close, absently crossing his arms. "Got a message through from Renee earlier," he murmurs. "First, she wanted me t'look up some stuff on the other fourteen warehouses in the area. Wanted t'check that with you." He straightens his back slightly as he adds, "She also said somethin' about the raid you guys were plannin' t'do. That the weapons they got ain't silver. Platinum."

Salem

Tall and dark, he stands a few inches over six feet, a well-built and rather dangerous-looking man somewhere around thirty years old. A mane of thick black hair, usually gathered into a loose ponytail that hangs nearly to the middle of his back, frames a somber, hawkish face, the left side of which is twisted by scars. If not for this disfigurement, he could be considered handsome -- albeit in a dour, moody, saturnine kind of way. His face is one designed for brooding and cynicism, and the short black beard that lines his mouth and jaw makes him look all the more satanic. His left eye is dead white, lost within the tangled jungle of scar tissue covering that side of his face; his good eye, on the right, is dark brown, not quite black. Both are shadowed, as if from lack of sleep. In short, he has the look of the very devil about him, or of a Christ figure gone bad.

A red and black flannel shirt hangs loosely open on his tall frame, revealing a plain black t-shirt over a pair of black BDUs. His combat boots are black as well, somewhat scuffed and certainly well broken-in. Something hangs from a cord around his neck but is hidden under his shirt. The tails of the long black leather duster sweep around his ankles; the coat appears new and is in excellent condition.

Salem frowns, his mouth thinned out, hard and cold. "Looking up the other warehouses is fine. Useful information. Now, what's this about platinum? How the hell does she know this?"

Ebony shrugs loosely. "Fucked if I know," the kinsman replies genially. "She didn't hang around long enough f'me t'ask questions. Again, prolly 'cuz of the moon. Just said I should tell you." A pause, before he muses, "Nice coat, by the way. Very...Blade-ish."

The kinsman gets a twitch of a smile at that. "Thank you. Had one like it before, but it was destroyed last year." The smile vanishes. "Hm. I'll have to have a word with Alicia. She's the one who found out about the silver. But... platinum?" He scowls. "Doesn't make sense."

Ebony mms, nodding a bit. "Yeah. Anyway, I won't keep y', if y'feelin' angsty. 'less there's anythin' in particular you need me t'look up in addition to what I'm workin' on?"

"There was something..." Salem hesitates, frowning, and then shakes his head. "Which I can't think of right now. Hrmph. I'll give you a call if I remember."

Ebony nods slightly, reaching over to open up the door once more. "Alright dude. Stay cool, yeah?"

Salem snorts. "Not difficult, in this weather. Give Jeremy my regards, all right?" He sweeps out the door.

Ebony flicks a casual salute, before letting the door swing close, and heaving a sigh of relief. Damn ragey Elders.