"This is as much reconnoiter as it is hunt, but I _don't_ expect it to be a cakewalk."

[hazlogs]

It is currently 17:57 Pacific Time on Tue May 6 2003.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is partly sunny. The temperature is 55 degrees Fahrenheit (12 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from variable directions at 7 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.83 and falling, and the relative humidity is 63 percent. The dewpoint is 43 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing Crescent Moon phase (36% full).

Nicholson Hall

The main room of the Hall is well furnished with beautiful ash floors. Wooden beams support the second floor, while giving the large home a rustic appeal. The room has been divided into two sections, with a clear pathway that leads into the kitchen. One half of the living room with contains sufficient lighting, comfortable arm chairs, and end tables. All of which are situated in front of living rooms main windows. Creating a perfect environment for reading, or simply watching the world go by. The remaining half of the room contains a couch, two plush chairs, and a coffee table in front of an expansive stone fireplace. A spiral staircase is tucked into one corner and leads up to the second floor.

House chairs have been moved into the living room and arranged so that they're all facing each other; other furniture has been moved out of the way as necessary.

Salem's arrived at Nicholson Hall early and is in the middle of getting things set up -- moving chairs, mostly, into a vaguely circular formation, facing inward.

Ebony saunters on in, hands shoved into pockets. The pants make it hard to miss him, as does the cheerful whistle he's got going on. A hand lifts, waving to the elder as he peers around the hall.

Ebis "Ebony" Knight is a tall lanky youth of perhaps twenty years, darkly colored by nature, though countering this somewhat via his mode of dress. To look at, one might assume him to be of African descent; his skin is a dark chocolate hue, complimented by near-black eyes. His hair would also be black if he ever let it grow, the young man perpetually seen with a shaved head. Despite his looks however, his accent would instead belie his upbringing in England, Ebony's polite tones something of a constant whatever his mood.

He's wearing clothes that scream testemony to the fact that he dresses in the dark. BRIGHT green pants cover his legs, made out of some kind of courduroy, and an inch or so too long for him, so they trail over scuffed and grubby boots. Over his torso is a navy blue sweater with the letters, 'RTFM' printed on it in luminous yellow. Probably dayglow, as well.

Francisco strides in just a few minutes after Ebony, but unlike the Kin, his expression is dark. His habitual cheer is nowhere to be found, and he makes a beeline for Salem.

Salem finishes pushing an armchair into place and looks up to nod to Ebony and Francisco; the halfmoon's mood seems good tonight... at least for now. "You're early," he notes.

Ebony flops into a chair roughly opposite the armchair's position, exhaling contently. "Yep," he murmurs. "Managed t'get th'night off work."

Francisco comes to a stop, and shoves his hands into his pockets, a humanlike gesture of unhappy nervousness. "Yeah. I got a phone call about an hour ago from my father." He takes a breath. "I need to go back to Steel Angel."

Salem's gaze shifts from Ebony to Francisco, and his expression grows rather more serious. He nods once, after a moment. "For how long?"

Ebony peers at the unfamiliar Garou, though has the sense to keep quiet.

Francisco whuffs out his breath in a sigh. "I'm not sure. Not long, I hope, but...it's complicated. Messy, more like it." He rubs his forehead, as if it pains him. "I...Shit. I'm sorry." There's definite submission and apology in his posture, even in homid.

Salem stares at Francisco for several long seconds, then grunts. "You'll be breaking with the pack, then?" It doesn't seem to be a question that requires answer, as Salem almost immediately afterwards shakes his head and gestures the other Philodox toward a seat. "Nevermind. I know how things can get. Have a seat... we're set up, just waiting for the others to arrive."

Francisco winces very slightly, dropping his gaze, and nods. "I thought I'd tell you first, so I wouldn't have to drop it on you during the moot," he says, folding his long self into a chair, and promptly proceeding to anxiously chew on one of the rubber bands around his wrist.

Francisco has seen better days. His hair is a mass of uncombed dredlocks (hey, it looks kinda cool, actually) and undyed, left his natural dark brown. All of his facial piercings are gone, healed over as if they never were. He looks perpetually tired, dark circles under his eyes. Those eyes, however, remain sharp and bright, alert with his ferocious intelligence.

He's dressed very simply, and everything in black: jeans, a Clash T-shirt, an ankle-length coat against the chill, and his buckled asskicking boots.

"It's appreciated," Salem replies, and if the response isn't exactly warm, it isn't particularly hostile, either. He takes out a brass pocketwatch and looks at it, comparing its time to that of the room clock.

Ebony seems to be close to dozing in his seat, dispite having only been in it a few minutes. Poor guy can't be sleeping well.

There's a knock on the door, but before anyone can move to answer it, it opens and Leala steps in. She looks composed as usual, but there are deep circles under her eyes. She kind of half waves and mumbles a greeting, shutting the door behind her.

A small smile plays mischievously across the dainty face of the young woman you see before you. Her gold-brown eyes sparkle a little, displaying a mild amusement. Her thick dark blond hair set in a simple chignon, with wispy waves falling around her face. Her facial features are petite and defined, but not angular, with fine brows curving over her bright eyes. She is short of stature, standing no taller than 5'2", and her frame is quite delicate and slender, almost aristocratic, with long limbs, and hint of grace in the way her arms gesticulate as she talks. It is not hard to imagine that many would find her charming, with her cheerful demeanor and brilliant smile.

Today, Lee is wearing a tailored white cotton button down shirt, which looks newly pressed. The stiff cuffs and collar are turned over a finely sewn black leather jacket, which is also tailored to her form. The cropped bottom of the jacket flares slightly at her waist, where it ends abruptly. Her jacket matches the black leather boots peaking out from underneath her pressed bootcut jeans, and the thick black belt at her waist. A violet silk scarf hangs loosely around her neck. She carries a slim aluminum briefcase, and a black leather camera bag.

Francisco glances up, and grins widely. "Lee!" He looks nervous and tired and overcaffinated, but genuinely glad to see her.

"Evening, Leala." Salem settles into the armchair and stretches his legs out. He gives another look to his pocketwatch, then puts it away and folds his arms across his chest.

Lianne arrives too, but remains quiet and in the background.

Leala clears her throat. "Evening all." She smiles at Francisco before taking a seat off to the side. She fidgets with her watch and her case and her phone, waiting for the others to arrive.

Ebony, being as he's half asleep in one of the chairs, does little more than flick a casual salute towards Leala, one eye half-opening as he does so. Then, it's back to blindness for the kinsman.

One of the double-doors is pushed open, and Quentin's blue-haired head ducks in to take a look around.. before, recognizing enough faces to know he's in the right place, he pushes all the way through and strudes along inside. "Hey, everyone.."

Francisco grins toothily at Quentin, from his slouch in one of the chairs. He seems to be in the process of gnawing a rubber band off of his wrist.

Leala looks up from her fixation long enough to nod at Quentin, and continues nervously poking at whatever small gadget she's got in her hand at this particular moment.

Toddling in right after Quentin is Cat, with Rina behind him. He blinks at the unfamiliar faces and seemingly large crowd, picking at the yarn on his wrist; the cub gives a glance to Salem and then looks over his shoulder at the kinswoman balefully.

Rina steps in and shuts the door behind her. The dark, shaggy hair is mussed, and a helmet hangs from one wrist.

"Hey Frankie," Quentin adds, flashing over a grin towards Francisco before turning to look behind him with a twist on his heel. "Hey kiddo.. hey Rina."

Thump thump thump. Running footsteps approach the two doors just as someone slams into them, letting out a surprised yelp. That same person then struggles to get the door open, and, after a few moments, succeeds in their task. Cassiel slides into the room, panting softly as she attempts to shift her backpack's weight onto one shoulder, all while juggling her reptilian companion known as Godzilla. The iguana peers around lazily, then closes its eyes and decides to take a nap. The cub looks nervous, sticking towards the wall nearby the entrance, as she looks around towards the others.

Francisco, attention attracted by all the thumping and bumping and lizards, zeroes in on Cassiel, curious as he hasn't met her before. However she gets a thumbs-up from him, and a "I -love- your hair."

As Rina and the two cubs step in, Salem gives another glance to the clock and then unfolds himself from the armchair, rising to his full six-foot-something height. "We're not all here, but we may as well get started." His gaze travels over the gathered faces, resting briefly on Cassiel and her lizard before addressing the tribe at large again. "First, does everyone know everyone else?"

Rina flashes Ebony a thin smile, and weaves her way around the edge of the room to the chair closest to Salem. She leans on the back of it, and runs a hand back through her hair in a vain attempt to neaten it.

Ebony stirs himself to mostly-awakeness and returns the smile, rubbing a hand over his eyes after removing his glasses. Poor guy looks absolutely exhausted.

Cat blinks and follows Rina doggedly, folding his limbs and sitting on the floor next to Salem's feet with his backpack in his lap. Bright eyes blink around at all the unfamiliar faces- Quentin gets a faint smile -but then he looks up at the elder and shakes his head. No telling if Salem sees though, way down there.

Leala puts aside her gizmo and sits, starting at Salem, still silent. She blinks a couple times.

Cassiel blinks, then smiles shyly towards Francisco. "Thanks. Took forever to do," she replies, letting out a breath as she makes her way towards the others. Salem's given a respectful nod of her head in greeting as she shrugs. "I know I don't."

Quentin reaches over to ruffle Cat's hair in passing before taking a step away, in case the other cub felt a desire to retaliate, offering over a wry smile to Cassiel as he moves towards a chair near where Francisco's sprawled. It's onto it that he clambers, sprawling out a bit and leaning his elbows on the arms before looking, attentively, over towards Salem. "I.. think so?"

Ebony peers around and shakes his head. "Nuh-uh," he grunts to Salem, still somewhat groggily.

Salem rubs his bearded chin, then folds his arms. "Mm. We'll start with introductions, then." His tone is flatly businesslike. "Me, you should know. Jack Salem, Philodox, your Elder. If you don't have my cellphone number, see me afterwards."

Francisco reaches out to fuzzle Quentin's short cropped hair, in Cat's stead. Then, to the room, he says, "I'm Francisco Delgado, Skyscraper, Philodox cliath."

"Ebis Knight. Ebony to most. Apparently born on a new moon, but 'cuz I'm kin, it don't really matter," Ebony offers up, skimming a hand back over his shaven head.

Leala clears her throat and speaks plainly. "Leala Marx, Ragabash cliath, member of Synthesis."

Cassiel rolls her eyes a little at Q, grinning, then turns her attention to Salem as the introductions begin. Lowering herself to the floor she folds her legs under her body, then sets the iguana into her lap. Once she realizes she's supposed to be doing her intro, she blinks and snaps her head up with a sheepish look. "I'm Cassiel Burton, a Galliard cub."

"Quentin Michaels," Q offers up, ducking slightly away from Francisco's hair and batting at his hand with a mock-threatening look and a smirk before looking back to the others, "Galliard cub."

Rina glances around the room. "I think you all know me," she says quietly, "but just in case. Rina Vencenzo, Kin. Don of this thing of ours, at least for now."

Cat glares at Q's back when his curls are ruffled, but when the older boy gets what's coming he can't help but smirk back, hugging his backpack gleefully. He looks up at Rina and Salem, then offers up softly to everyone else, "Cat Harper? Theurge cub."

Salem nods and sits back down. "Now, to business. Does anyone have anything they would like to announce or bring to the attention of the family?" His eye shifts, settles on Francisco.

Francisco clears his throat, and stands up, unfolding himself out of his chair. For those who haven't met him before, his height may be startling, because he's really damn tall, taller even than Salem. He clears his throat again, nervously. "Yes. Thank you, Salem. Some of you know that originally I am from the Sept of the Steel Angel, in Los Angeles. I have, about an hour and a half ago, received a phone call from my father, Power-Chords-Deafen-The-Wyrm, Fostern Galliard of our tribe, that demands my presence again in Steel Angel. It is not something I can refuse, I'm afraid. The business is...family, and complicated."

Daisy opens the door to the house and lets herself in. Meeting in progress, she attempts to be quiet about it, offering only a little wave to those who look her way.

Salem glances up, giving Daisy a nod and waving her toward a chair.

Rina winces slightly, her expression tightening. "Well. We'll miss you."

Cassiel sits there in her place on the floor, idly petting the iguana in her lap. She's not really sure what to say to Francisco's announcement, having not known the guy, so she just watches and listens for now.

Quentin's head lifts up to watch Francisco as he stands, a lock of blue brushing against his brow.. and then as his words are spoken, he frowns, brow furrowing just a bit. Lips part briefly as though to say something, though he cuts off whatever words were coming before they do, sinking a bit further back into his chair.

Salem's gaze shifts back to Francisco; though his expression is grim, he doesn't look surprised in the slightest.

Leala frowns slightly in Francisco's direction, but her face softens. "I hope whatever business you have doesn't keep you too long. Good luck."

Cat just blinks and holds his backpack, watching Francisco.

Francisco says, quietly, "I hope so as well, Lee." He smiles a little, sadly, at Rina.

Daisy eases into the seat Salem beckoned her towards.

"You'll always have a place here, should circumstances allow you to return," Salem says formally. "When are you leaving?"

Francisco inclines his head. "Thank you. Tomorrow. I'll leave my contact information with anybody who wants it." He sits back down.

"I do," Quentin says quietly, before glancing back over the area to see who else is going to speak.

For a moment, Salem almost smiles. "Make sure you say goodbye to Tesla before you go. He'll be upset otherwise." He shifts his weight. "Anyone else?"

Leala clears her throat, looking nervously at Salem. "I had wanted to discuss this with you first, but now is as good a time as any. Since the battle for the cairn, we have been without a sanctuary. I wish to change that. I have the means to fund a new safehouse. We have only to pick a location and I can have arrangements made to purchase, and/or build the desired building. I suggest we take some time deciding what our needs are though. Thoughts anyone?"

Salem's eyebrows lift. "Mm. How much capital do we have to work with?"

"Long-Last-Howl-In-Final-Hour," Quentin offers up, his fingers resting on the curve of his jaw and a brow lifting slightly, "That is, Wilbur Right, Silver Fang ahroun, might be someone to talk to. You've got the money, yeah, but he's in the real estate business.. if nothing else, I don't doubt that he could get us a good deal."

Leala looks at Salem intently. "As much as you need."

Salem seems to consider this a moment, then nods. "Good. We could use a central location again. And this time, hopefully, we can prevent it from being raided." He nods. "I'll speak to the Fang, see what's available, what we have to work with."

"Any available building will probably need heavy structural modifications to make it secure. We may as well have it wired up for networking and security cameras as well." Leala smiles slightly, remembering the old safehouse.

Quentin tips his head in a slight nod, offering, "I've got his number, if you need it. I'm sure Jer could help out with the networking and security system, too."

Rina gives Leala a nod. "Lemme know if there's anything you need as far as people, calls, that kinda thing. Appreciate it."

Salem's eyes narrow thoughtfully. "This time, we should get some security Umbra-side as well." He looks over toward the tribe's only adult Theurge -- Daisy.

"I have a background in video surveillance, so I have that part covered. Jeremy will certainly be useful with setting up network. Wireless will probably be the easiest for most of the facility. Where is the scamp anyway?" Leala looks around, just noticing he's not here.

Cat perks, at the mention of the umbra.

"Not here," Salem deadpans, in answer to Leala.

Daisy nods to Salem at his suggestion. "Maybe get a spirit or two to visit much?"

Leala nods, a little confused.

Salem cocks his head at Daisy. "It'll be your baby." He glances briefly at Cat, then back at the Lupus. "You can take Cat there with you... he needs the practice."

Daisy sizes Cat up with a brief looking over. "Okay."

Cat smiles brightly at Salem and the new face Daisy, hugging his bag happily.

Rina offers Daisy a thin smile. "Just don't take any of his shit. He's a real troublemaker."

Salem leans forward, elbows resting on the arms of his chair and fingers laced together. "Excellent." He looks around to see if anyone else has anything to say or announce.

Daisy tenatively raises a hand.

Francisco chews through his rubber band and starts on his plaid spiked bracelet, which is a more delicate operation but tougher material.

"Miz Ri-na," Cat mumbles, looking up at her with a pout.

Rina glances down to the boy, giving him a wry smile. Then she looks over to Daisy, lifting her chin a little to acknowledge the gesture. "Yeah, Daze?"

Daisy speaks in her characteristically broken English. "I just return in town. Need place to stay. Food." She looks at her attire and adds, "Clothingses."

Cassiel glances over to Daisy. "You could crash at my place if you want. I got room for you to sleep and stuff, long as you don't mind my music."

Daisy inquires cautiously, "No cats?"

"Just the lizard," Salem murmurs, with a note of dry amusement, looking toward Daisy and Cassiel.

Cassiel shakes her head and grins. "No cats. Just Zilla, and he doesn't make any noise. He just sleeps a lot." She nods to Salem, then looks back to Daisy. "Just be warned, I let him run around loose sometimes."

Daisy wrinkles her nose. Lizards. Ick. "Okay." Shelter and food wins out over the nuisance of lizardness.

Salem makes a satisfied-looking nod. "Good. Is there anything else someone would like to bring before the family?" His gaze travels over the group again, lingering over no particular face.

Cassiel smiles. "It's set, then. You can catch a ride with me back to my place, cool? I think I might even actually have some food there, for once," she idly comments to Daisy.

Another car pulls up outside, and after a few moments Rhiannon knocks on one of the doors in classic shave-and-a-haircut style before opening it. She ducks inside and shuts it behind her with a heavy sigh. "Sorry. Traffic on the 90 is a fucking mess right now."

Leala rummages through her laptop case, and pulls out a granola bar. She tosses it lightly to Daisy. "Here. I forgot I had this."

Salem smiles faintly at Rhiannon and waves her in toward one of the empty chairs. "Not a problem."

Francisco flashes Rhi a nervous grin.

The blond cub blinks as Rhiannon walks in, smiling at the kin brightly. "Hi Miz Mac!"

Quentin's head lifts, and he offers over a slightly.. wan smile to Rhiannon as she strides along inside, raising one hand in a brief wave.

Daisy snags the granola bar, tears the wrapper off as lady-like as she can manage (which is marginal at best), and takes a bite from it, nodding her thanks to Leala. But hey, at least she eats with her mouth closed.

Rina gives the woman a thin smile. "Hey."

Rhiannon waves and nods hellos to all those greeting her, "No thanks on the seat. I've been sitting for days. Sitting in cars, sitting in court houses, sitting in safe houses. I think I'll *stand* for a little while." She moves next to Francisco, then pauses and looks at Salem directly. "I--I don't know if cito's already mentioned anything about a phonecall." Her words are both hesitant and apologetic.

Salem shifts slightly in his chair and nods. "Francisco told us that he'll be leaving, yes."

Cassiel's eyes squint a little as she finally snaps out of her daze, focusing in on Rhi. A cold look flashes across her expression for a second, then returns to fuzzy blankness as she starts to pet her iguana again.

Francisco glances up at Rhiannon, eyebrows raised, surprised.

Quentin's expression turns a touch cautious as Rhiannon stands to speak, closing his teeth briefly on his lower lip as he watches the kin and waits for her to continue. A hint of tension, for those who can tell.

"I, well, I'm probably going with him." Rhiannon bites her lip and shakes her head. "Or at least after him. It depends on if I can get a transfer back, which doesn't look too unlikely but you never know." She looks askance at her fellow Los Angelean Walker and adds, "His family's not the only one coming under fire."

Cat blinks, frowning slightly at Rhiannon as though he has particular dislike of this news.

Rina nods minutely. "Understandable," she murmurs.

Francisco shakes his head, his eyes very dark indeed, and pushes himself farther back into his chair, folding his arms, and not saying anything.

Salem's eyes narrow slightly, but the Elder nods in understanding. "I see." He inhales a breath, lets it out. "You'll be missed. And, as I told Francisco, you'll always have a place here should you return."

Quentin starts to say something, catches himself.. and then swallows a lump in his throat with a rise and fall of his adam's apple, saying quietly and simply, "..good luck." That's all he says, before looking back down towards his hands, fingers clasping together.

"Why's everyone going to LA alluvasudden?" Cat pipes up suddenly, still frowning. "If you're in trouble, can't we help?"

Francisco stirs, saying, "It's only us, lupito. We both came from there. And, no. It's ...family, not tribe. Or tribe, -and- family, but..." He waves vaguely, words, for once, failing him.

Rhiannon nods at Salem. "Thanks. You've all been wonderful, and certainly the best family-away-from-family I could've hoped for." She gives Q an amused look. "Don't worry, I've got a week or two until paperwork processes. And I've paid last month's rent, so you'll have the place until moving day." Cat receives a sad sigh. "I wish it were that easy, Cat, but you've got your own Sept to protect. And like cito says, this is a family thing, not quite a...Tribal thing, I suppose." She frowns but doesn't elaborate.

Salem steeples his fingers. "Don't hesitate if there's anything we _can_ do. I hope that you two will keep in touch."

"I'll start looking for somewhere else to stay, then," Quentin says in quiet tones, giving his head a slight shake, "Give my best to everyone down at Steel Angel, alright?"

The blond cub huffs and blows his hair out of his eyes, not pleased with the answer at all.

Cassiel looks up again, towards Q this time. "I think I can make room for one more, if you don't find anywhere else," she offers.

Leala doesn't say anything, but she has a sad look on her face.

Francisco looks at Q, sadly. And nods, inclining his head to Salem. "If there is, I'll call. Believe me, I will," he adds with a crooked grin. "And thank you again."

"You'll have to pry the phone from cito's cold dead fingers," Rhiannon drawls with a wry smile. "We will Quentin, and remember, you're welcome in Casa de MacKenzie anytime you're there."

"Yeah, I know," Quentin replies, a faint smile quirking his lips though it's probably forced as he tips his head in a slight nod to Rhiannon, "Maybe I'll come down, sometime.. when I can."

Cat glances up at Rina, wordlessly asking her permission to visit too.

Salem lifts a hand and brushes back a stray lock of hair. "Right. It _is_ a shame that you two are leaving, but it can't be helped." The Elder's lips thin. "Some of you have heard about the recent vampire attacks. So far, there have been three." He takes a breath. "Unfortunately, that's not the end of it. K.C. has recently found out about two others, and one of them is calling himself Prince."

Rina's jaw tightens, and she shoots a narrow-eyed look at Salem. "Great."

"I guess it's our job to make him the vampire formerly known as Prince?" Quentin cracks the weak joke as though to try and lighten the mood, though he's no ragabash. He falls silent, then, listening with a frown.

Francisco looks up at the news, startled, and his own eyes narrow and he growls lowly, wolf's voice in a human throat. "-Excellent- timing," he mutters, heavy on the sarcasm.

Rhiannon grimaces. "Can't keep a good leech down," she says with narrowed eyes.

Salem meets Rina's eyes briefly and nods grimly. "Yes. In other words," he says, addressing the gathering at large again, "the infestation isn't simply a matter of rogue loners. It could be worse, of course, but it's still not good." Broad shoulders move in a slight shrug. "K.C. knows more, and I was hoping she'd be by to share her information at this meeting, but it seems she's also been held up. No matter. Renee and I, along with other members of Synthesis, will be attempting to hunt down the one whose name we have... later this week."

Quentin, although he knows better, casts over a brow's subtle quirk at Salem as he speaks. From the wry look on his face, though, he knows what answer he's going to get.

Salem returns Quentin's quirked brow with one of his own, and he stares directly at the cub. "Yes, Quentin?"

"I was just wondering if you could use another pair of hands, eyes, and claws," Quentin says, meeting Salem's gaze steadily and with a slight lift of one shoulder, "I'm not part of Synthesis, but I'm around if you need me."

"Until you pass your Rite, you're still a cub," Salem reminds the young Galliard; this is, mostly likely, the answer Quentin was expecting.

Rhiannon glances between Salem and Quentin, curiously watching the exchange.

"I know," Quentin replies, fingertips brushing up slightly from his lap before falling again, a hint of defiance showing, "I'm still asking."

Rina glances to Salem, but says nothing.

Cat's watching too, bright and curious.

"And I'm still saying 'no'," comes the Elder's firm response. Salem's face and voice are calm. "As of now we do not know what the situation is, how deeply they're entrenched, how many there are. This is as much reconnoiter as it is hunt, but I _don't_ expect it to be a cakewalk. No cubs."

"Alright," Quentin replies, seemingly unsurprised by the declaration, and certainly unhurt by it.. simply leaning back in his chair again and glancing to the others to see if anyone else is going to speak. Fingertips absently picking at a loose thread of his jeans.

Salem's gaze lingers a bit longer on Quentin, his expression flat. After a moment of silence he turns back to the group. "Keep your eyes open. If you have to engage, be careful. Most vampires are no match for even one of us, but there's always an exceptional one that could provide you with a nasty, possibly deadly, surprise."

After a bit of silence, Salem continues. "That's it. For now, anyway. If no one else has anything to add, we can bring this meeting to a close."

There is a quick knocking at the door, followed by a grunt and a loud huff.

Salem flicks a glance toward the door. "Someone get that, please?"

Rhiannon walks over to the door and cracks it open just enough to see outside.

The typical Glass Walker Goth is standing at the door, this time wearing a blue polo shirt with a company logo on it, and carrying a brief case. He looks /tired/ and a bit stressed out. Letting out a sigh, he softly mutters. "Just got the voice mail 'bout the moot."

Salem lifts an eyebrow. "We're just finishing, unless you have anything you'd like to announce or any information to pass."

Quentin shifts slightly in his chair, glancing back towards the door with a brow's lift as he catches sight of Jeremy; a faint smile offered over, just a crook up at one corner of his lips.

Rhiannon steps aside and waves Jeremy into the room. "You're just in time. We're up to leeches and leaving."

Francisco smiles the faintest distracted smile at Jeremy, which quickly fades.

Jeremy steps through and rubs the back of his head, then softly says. "I just put down capital, enough to buy my own ISP service. Its a world wide internet provider that will be used only for the Walkers. If you guys want, just to go walkingonbrokenglass, dot org, and well... sign up for it. Family gets in free." He says, shrugs, then settles his bag down.

Rina flashes a quick smile. "Keen."

Francisco perks up a little. "Is it offering broadband?"

"Cool," Quentin offers over with a slightly stronger smile, "I'll check it out tonight."

Salem's eyebrows lift, but he doesn't respond other than to give the techikin a nod of approval.

"Of /course/ its offering broad band. Do you think that -I- would invest in /dial up/?" Jeremy asks with a smirk on his face, a tad proud. "Everyone who signs up for an account gets about a hundred megabytes of online storage space for web serving, and a personal email account. Its all encrypted, pretty heavily with firewalls galore. Had some buds of mine over in the Euro's hook me up with some bandwidth and junk also. Its so ganna rock."

Francisco blinks, impressed. "That's really sexy, Jer. Cool."

"Not bad, Jer," Rhiannon says with raised eyebrows. "I imagine you can do better than my last provider in LA."

"Good job, Jeremy," Salem says. Though less excited about this than some others, the praise is sincere.

Jeremy bobs his head a bit. "Thanks guys." He rubs the back of his neck some, then gives Frankie a light punch on the arm.

"Well, if anyone's up for a late dinner and drinks at my place, we can see if the Glass Chef over here will whip up something for the crowd." Rhiannon glances over at Quentin with her eyebrows raised. "We'll need to stop at the store for supplies, though."

Francisco ruffles Jeremy's hair fondly, then grins at Rhi and Quentin. "Sounds good to me."

Holding his stomach playfully, Jeremy groans. ".. No.. no.. not Q's cooking.. getting... flash... backs.... mystery.. meat... in tin foil wrapping..."

"Fuck you too," Quentin tosses over towards Jeremy with a smirk, pushing himself up to his feet and offering a nod towards Rhiannon, "Sure, I can whip up something. Might not be gourmet, mind you.."

Salem utters a quiet chuckle and pushes to his feet. "Meeting ajourned. I'll catch up after I've set things back to rights here."

Rhiannon gives Jeremy a faint smile. "Well, if you don't want any, that's more for me. He's quite the chef now."

Rhiannon pulls out her car keys and tips her head towards the door. "Okay, I can take 2 besides cito and I, so let's saddle up and hit the store." She and Francisco exit the building first, occasionally murmuring to each other in Spanish. Outside is the 4Runner, dusty as ever, and after everyone's inside it reverses far quicker than necessary and speeds off down the street at speeds that would only be legal on the interstate.

Salem stays behind, as he said, to put all the chairs back and make another walk through the house to ensure everything is as it should be.

Rina stays as well, helping him clean up, the two talking quietly while Cat dozes on the couch.

Quentin doesn't stay behind; he heads after Rhiannon and Francisco, conspicuously silent as he heads to clamber into the back of the 4x4. After all, if he's cooking, he's going to need to pick out the ingredients at the store.