"Do you remember Drew Miller?"

[hazlogs]

It is currently 15:33 Pacific Time on Mon Jul 21 2003.

Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 84 degrees Fahrenheit (28 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the north at 8 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.07 and falling, and the relative humidity is 40 percent. The dewpoint is 58 degrees Fahrenheit (14 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waning Half Moon phase (49% full).

Bridge Street

All the way from Fifth to Twelfth, tenements crowd together tightly, interspersed with a few shops and little stores. A single, larger grocery store decorates a part of the block from Eighth to Ninth. Bars create a grill over the windows of the littler stores, and smells reminiscent of a garbage dump waft from many of the small alleyways. It is nothing unusual to hear a shot, or many shots, ring out from any of the area, nor to see swaggering teenage boys in leather eyeing those who pass, especially women.

Renee is heading south, having just past Regan street two minutes ago. Hands stuffed into her pockets, the Galliard humms to herself as she moves.

Salem is in conversation with a sullen-looking Latino boy who's wearing a leather jacket despite it being a sunny day and in the eighties. The Glass Walker looks dour, leaning in to make some point in a low voice, and the boy -- mid-teens, probably one of the local gangs -- swallows and steps back, raising his hands in a pacifying way. Salem sighs, waves him off, and turns away.

Renee comes to a stop as she catches sight of Salem talking too the boy and watches from a distance, until the boy beats a hasty retreat. Her eyes watch the Latino's progess for a few seconds, before returning their attention to salem. One foot is put infront of the other, until she is relativly close to the new Sept Alpha. "Yo."

Salem glances 'round and, seeing Renee, his eyebrows rise. "Oh, good. I was going to come to see you."

Renee tilts her head to one side. "Yea. Well, I'm headin' back ta my place. Can talk while we walk." And the Gnawer just keeps on walking. "So, what ya got? You ain't normally the one lookin' for people ta give info too."

Salem shrugs. "Yes, well... this is important, since it concerns your family as well as mine." He falls into step with her, keeping his tone low and conversational. "Do you remember Drew Miller?"

Renee grunst softly, as she keeps her eyes on the street. "Yea."

"And you know that John sired a child on her. A boy, as a matter of fact." Salem's tone is grim; whatever news he has is not good news. "Rina's been to see her and... she's not doing well. But she doesn't want any help. Rina thinks she can persuade Drew to let _her_ help, since they were friends... before, but Drew's made it clear that she doesn't want any of _us_ coming near her or her children."

Renee's nostril's flare, as her eyes narrow. "I can undertsand that. Bein' protective is pretty normal for a mom. Even over protective, sometimes. How exactly is she not doin' well?"

Salem glances sidelong down at the girl, his mouth twisted into a wry expression. "She lost the woman she loved _and_ the father of her son, all on the same day." He shakes his head. "Rina didn't say in detail. She's probably depressed. Distrustful of... us. The children are healthy, Di and Russell both. Rina's seen the boy."

Renee nods, her walking pace slowing a little. "Well, the kids are healthy. Thats a good thing. An' ya said that Rina is talkin' with her, so I'll talk ta Rina. I don't wanna push myself on Drew, 'cause it would probably jus' make things worse."

Salem nods, lips thinned. "Exactly my thoughts." He exhales a breath. "There's a chance, of course, that the boy... has the spark. But there's time to let Drew come around, so we can do the baptism with her permission." He glances at her. "That's something else I wanted to talk to you about," he says, and his tone of voice turns... delicate. Like he's trying to be, well, diplimatic. "If he's kin like his sister, there's no issue. But if he's not..." Despite the diplomatic tone, there's a certain stubbornness in his eyes. "I'd want him to be baptized as a Walker. Like his father." He pauses a beat. "As long as Drew doesn't protest, of course."

Renee scowls. "I got a better idea. How 'bout we leave it up ta her an' not start makin' the fuckin' decisions for her."

Salem's jaw tightens. With deliberate calm, he says, "As I said... as long as Drew doesn't protest. There's a chance that she _won't_ come around, despite the one in ten chance that the boy will grow up and be lost completely the way his father almost was." He shakes his head, his gaze turning to the street. "I'm not going to start a war over the boy who, as mentioned, may not have the spark anyway. But I know what Smith would have wanted."

Renee shrugs. "I say that is she does come 'round, we'll jus' ask her what she wants. Straight out. Easiest way ta do things. That way, there ain't any arguin' involved."

Salem inhales a breath, lets it out. Then nods. "Fine. I wanted to let you know. That's all." Look -- no fights, no insults, no authoritive arrogant dictating! Who is this man, and what did he do with the _real_ Jack Salem?

Renee nods. "An' it ain't complainin', not by a long shot. I wanna be there if there is any askin' involved, but thats the limit of what I'm gonna push for. I want arguments 'bout as much as you do." The Galliard stops walking, coming to a stop infront of one of the many tenement buildings and heading up two of the steps. "Thanks fer comin' ta talk with me."

Salem shrugs faintly and gives her the thinnest of smiles. "Welcome. I'll let you know if anything further develops." That said, he turns and heads down the street.