"So this Raul--some mutt--put you in a bad mood? Come off it, Jack."

[hazlogs]

It is currently 19:50 Pacific Time on Tue Apr 22 2003.

Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 57 degrees Fahrenheit (13 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the west at 7 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.85 and falling, and the relative humidity is 45 percent. The dewpoint is 36 degrees Fahrenheit (2 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waning Half Moon phase (58% full).

Harbor Park -- Fountain

Situated in the center of a large, open meadow is a clustering of six trees, a flower bed, a few steel-and-wood benches set firmly into concrete, and a flagstone courtyard that is dominated by a large fountain.

The fountain is a wide circular pool of water some fifty feet across and about five feet deep in most places. The sculpture in the center is a mix of old and new, traditional and modern: eight concrete-and-stainless-steel slabs about six feet high are set in a rough Stonehenge-like circle around the center of the fountain. Water flows from their tops, cascading in bright mesmerizing sheets to the pool below. Rising above the steel circle is a large marble statue of the Water Bearer, an androgynous figure draped in robes of flowing water. It bears a large jug carved with various Greek symbols, from which pours a seething torrent of water into the pool at its feet.

Cars on the nearby street have an excellent view of the park as do any residents of the tall buildings which line the waterfront.

The murky waters of the Columbia River flow swiftly along the east side of the park. Bracketing the park to the west is First Street and the city of St. Claire. Recent construction work is creating an earthen berm several feet high all along the borders of the park in all directions.

The high-pitched sound of a well-tuned Ducati engine zips through the city, and eventually grows louder, running above the hum of evening traffic. The bike pulls up at the park's edge, finding a spot between two awful-looking pimped Cadillacs.

Salem sits facing the fountain, half-slouched on a park bench with the air of a resting, brooding panther. He's on the latest of some uncounted number of handrolled cigarettes and near its end. Hearing the distinctive sound of the Ducati, he looks up and in that direction, then takes another drag on the cigarette.

Cat hops of the bike first, tugging his helmet off and grinning wildly at Rina. "That was fun!" he tells her happily, hugging his helmet to his chest. "I can't wait till I'm sixteen. Motorcycles are more fun than cars, lots more."

Rina taps Cat's leg with a gloved hand, signaling the boy to get off the motorcycle before she backs it into place. Both of them are wearing helmets for once.

Salem shifts his weight on the bench, eyes narrowing behind dark lenses as he considers. His head tips back, mouth opening to blow a smoke ring at the still-lit sky. And waits, not knowing if that was truly Rina's bike he heard, and knowing that if it was, she'll be coming his way shortly.

After parking the bike and killing the engine, Rina dismounts with the ease of long habit. She strips off her helmet and hangs it on one of the bars, then heads into the park, gloves hands running through her hair. It has grown shaggy and mussed since John's death, a mop almost as long and unruly as Cat's; the two are like mirrors of each other, angelic blonde boy and dark leather-clad street tough.

The slightly smaller boy doesn't have gloves to run through his hair, but luckily the helmet covered most of it and it's still kinda clinging to his head. He tilts his head, and then, on a whim, bows to Rina and offers her his arm. "May I take the lady on a s...stroll?" he stammers shyly. That's a line from one of his books, but shh.

Rina's laugh is carefree enough to carry--though it might be an unfamiliar sound by now. "Of course. Ever so gentlemanly of you." She slides her arm formally through his, just like she does with Mister Salem; scanning the park, she spots the dour Walker in short order, and they head in that direction at a leisurely pace.

Cat's standing as tall as he can, chest puffed out in pride. He spots Salem a few seconds after Rina and just smiles a bit, as if to say, Look! Isn't it nice? She's happy!

Salem has his scarred face turned toward the pair and watches them approach with veiled eyes, smoke curling up from the cigarette held between two fingers of his right hand. He offers up a casual-sounding, "Evening," once they're within speaking distance.

Rina purses her lips, a wry smile twisting at them--a familiar cynical expression that belongs to her. "That's bad for ya."

Something makes Rina trail off and study the Walker with a touch of seriousness or maybe concern. She tips her head slightly, and unthreads her arm from Cat's, letting the young teen's ebullience and good mood carry the conversation while she watches Salem's face.

"Happy Easter," the theurge calls out to Salem cheerfully. He stands next to Rina a fidgety boy full of energy. Someone's had Dr. Pepper recently. "We visited your house, but you weren't there. Are you talking a walk too?"

"Whatever doesn't kill me makes me stronger," Salem says in reply to Rina's remark, his tone sardonic. His face is difficult to read, especially with the sunglasses masking his eyes, but there are subtle signs that his air of relaxation is more than a little feigned. He focusses on the boy. "Keeping an eye on things. Hearing things. Like certain young men who have been wandering alone into places they shouldn't."

That cuts the strings to Cat's cheerfulness. His smile falls off his face, and he hides his hands in his pockets quickly. "I...I..." he stutters, lamely trying to find some reason to explain what he did. Blue eyes glance sadly and fearfully at Rina. "It...I was...I found it and I thought..." He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the lecture and possible blow. "It worked," he adds sadly.

Salem's mouth thins into a frown. He takes another drag from the cigarette and exhales, slowly. "It worked?" he echoes, his voice quite mild.

Cat winces. "Am I in trouble?" he asks timidly.

"Why did you do it?" the Philodox responds, flatly.

The boy risks a glance at the Kin and then at Salem, reluctantly pulling his left hand out of his pocket and sticking his arm out for the Philodox's inspection.

Salem frowns, then sets the cigarette between his lips and sits up, leaning forward to take Cat's wrist and push up his sleeve. His grip is firm, but not painful. Yet.

Wrapped around several times his wrist is bright red yarn, and hanging from it is a circular mirror, the size of a half-dollar. It's cheap and chipped on the back- they used to make dining room chandeliers and lamps out of this stuff. Cat's quiet as he lets the elder see his 'invention.'

Salem studies the cub's decoration for a moment, then looks into his face; Cat sees a dark, distorted reflection of himself in the halfmoon's sunglasses. "Explain." He still has Cat's wrist.

Rina wraps both arms around herself and only watches, her eyes narrowed. She never takes them from Salem.

Cat looks at the ground, anywhere but Salem's glasses and his outstretched arm. "You can get into the Umbra by mirrors, and I wanted...I wanted to see if you could do it from -any- mirror. Not just bathrooms." He risks peeking out of one eye at Salem. "So if there's an emergency, you can go in an' out anywhere. You don't have to run to a sink mirror."

Salem's mouth thins in displeasure. "I could have told you that. Any Garou could." He releases Cat's arm and sits back, taking the cigarette from his mouth and tapping ash off the end of it.

A strange, almost neutral expression comes to Rina's face. "You hafta be careful, Cat. It wouldn't hard to wait for someone to go with you."

"Oh." Cat looks down at his wrist in disappointment, rubbing at the skin where the yarn has irritated it and then just stuffs the offending appendage back into his pocket. "Well, um...I just wanted to see if it could work." He looks up at Rina, frightened and sad at once. "It- it was just an experiment! I wasn't going to stay long, it's just these people showed up and-" He clamps his mouth shut. Oops.

Rina finally turns her dark eyes to Cat. Now she's angry, yoo.

"Which is how I knew," Salem says, taking another drag. "One of them was a Bone Gnawer. New one in town named Raul. Who else?"

"I...I don't know," Cat admits, dipping his head and closing his eyes tight. "One of 'em...had a funny coat on. One had a coat of fur and the other had a coat of shiny plates. There was a girl, an' she turned into a wolf and still had lots of earrings." He bites his lip, still not looking up. "I'm sorry...I wasn't wandering. I just wanted to see..."

Salem considers this. "Was the man with the fur coat tall and overweight?"

Rina's expression tightens further, as she listens.

The boy considers, then nods unhappily. "Kinda."

Salem grunts. He takes a final drag off the cigarette, then extinguishes on the edge of the bench. "Sounds like Reggie. The man with the plates on his coat was Raul." With a flick of his fingers, he sends the butt into the wastecan nearby. He scowls at Cat. "I'm getting tired of this, Cat."

"Cat," Rina says quietly, "why don't you go wait by the bike."

Blinking unhappily, Cat mumbles his goodbye to Salem and turns away, starting at a slow walk and then running to the bike. He skids to a halt next to the bike and stands there with his back to them as he hugs his helmet to his chest, and waits for Rina to collect him.

Rina's gaze returns to Salem, and her jaw works for a moment. "I didn't know," she says quietly. "I'm sorry."

Salem watches the boy go, still frowning, then shakes his head and reaches inside his coat for the black cigarette case. "Mnh." His voice turns milder. "Not your fault. It's not your job to watch him twenty-four seven. He should have known better."

Rina crosses her arms a little tighter. "Yeah, and I oughta teach him better."

Salem grimaces. "_I_ taught him better," he grumbles, taking out another of the handrolled cigarettes and putting it in his mouth. "Thought I had, anyway. Hmf." The case snaps shut.

Rina looks away, off toward Cat and the Ducati. "Jack," she murmurs. The dark eyes return to him, and she swallows again. "What's going on?"

Salem repockets the case and fishes for his lighter. "Nothing. I'm irritated at having to find out about my cubs being idiotically disobedient from dogs who think that washing their hair in the fucking park fountain is acceptable behavior. Extremely irritated." The unlit cigarette, loosely held between his lips, bobs as he speaks.

Rina's chins lifts slightly. "So this Raul--some mutt--put you in a bad mood? Come off it, Jack." She reaches over to pluck the cigarette from his lips.

She succeeds in this, but gets a curt, rumbly grunt in response. The beast is out tonight, and it's feeling mean.

Rina sits down beside him, carefully--too close for the comfort of that beast. She turns the cigarette over and over in her hands. "Jack..." Her voice is quieter, her posture focused on him in that absorbed way she has. "Is that all?"

Salem shifts his weight, shoulders rolling in a tight shrug. "It's been a bad day, that's all," he says, folding his arms across his chest. "Thousand little minor irritants. Cat's fucking field trip is just the fucking cherry."

Rina wets her lips. "When did it happen? Just so I know."

"Last night," Salem replies.

Rina nods grimly, lowering her eyes. "Nothing else big? Just... just a bad day?" She sounds terribly worried, but she makes an effort to keep her eyes on the cigarette in her hands.

Salem cocks his head slightly, favoring his good side as he eyes her. "Oh, yes, and I discovered that I'm a member of a dying race fighting a losing war." There's more than a hint of the sardonic in his voice; he gives her a thin smile, all cynical humor. "Then the world ended. It was, as they say, 'a real bringdown'."

Rina flicks the cigarette over her shoulder. "Old news," she says, and reaches up to touch his cheek. "And it's not over yet, y'know."

The Philodox makes a little 'hrmph' noise. "There's a fine for littering, you know." He's being stubborn. Contrary. Not quite joking, nor quite serious.

She seems to be dead serious, in fact. "Yeah?" The dark eyes remain sober, but a faint smile tugs at one corner of her mouth. "I'll get it later."

"You do that." He shifts again, stretching. "Feh."

"Hey..." She watches him intently, and straightens a little. "Let's go out. Tonight. I'll take Cat home, fix dinner, then maybe you and me can go shoot some pool or somethin'. Risk life and limb."

Salem sits forward, then takes off the sunglasses. His eyes have sleep-dep shadows under them again... or rather still. "If you want, sure," he says, slipping the glasses inside his coat. "Meet you at Reggie's, then?"

Rina grins, relief mixing with worry. She nods minutely, and lifts a hand--but she doesn't touch him, instead cutting the gesture short, turning away and standing to look for that tossed cigarette.

Salem pushes to his feet. As she looks for the cigarette, he takes out his cellphone and dials. She hears him speak into it a moment later. "Mel. It's Jack. I'll be in late tonight... don't wait up. And don't worry, it's not business." He pauses, glancing toward the kinswoman, then adds, "See you," to the message and then clicks off.

Rina pockets the cigarette, and then offers him a faint smile. Then she straightens, and visibly puts on her game face, looking sober as she paces toward the bike and Cat.

Salem puts the cellphone away, his gaze following her as she heads away.