"Have you met your cousins here yet?"

[hazlogs]

It is currently 22:07 Pacific Time on Fri Aug 22 2003.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is clear outside. The temperature is 58 degrees Fahrenheit (14 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the southwest at 5 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.98 and rising, and the relative humidity is 57 percent. The dewpoint is 43 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent Moon phase (31% full).

Dark Wine and Roses - Cafe

This room is bright and airy. The walls are still a cheerful white, and the floors, moldings, and beams are identical to the ones in the bookshop. An oak-and-marble counter is set close to one wall, and a bar can be seen behind it. A swinging door next to the bar leads into the kitchen, which can be glimpsed when the door is opened. In addition to the lights hanging from the ceiling, several fans are also visible. Large windows open onto the patio outside. Tables and booths of various sizes are scattered around the room.

A glass door on the west wall leads out onto the patio, while the archway to the east leads into the bookshop proper. The door to the kitchen is behind the counter to the north.

You paged the room with 'There. So, is she on time? Punctual? :>'.
Calina pages: Early. :)

It's late evening and DWR is almost deserted. This suits Calina fine as she steps in from without, wearing another impeccable suit. She orders a coffee and moves to a back table, the required flower clasped in loose fingers that twirl the stem idly.

Miss Petrov-Levushka is almost a perfect example of a young human woman. Attaining a midway balence between the extremes of petite and amazonian at her height of 5'6, with a build that is neither skinny nor overweight, she moves with a sure grace that implies a knowledge of her body, without bordering on acrobatic. Flawless pale skin compliments hair as black as Grandfather Thunder's ravens, long enough to reach to the small of her back, though often braided tidily out of the way. Sharp storm-blue eyes sit over a pert nose and full lips, strong cheekbones giving her a somewhat arrogant, slavic look to her features. She wears makeup, though tastefully; a touch of colour across her cheeks to save her from looking washed-out, silver along the rim of each eyelid and a coat of clear gloss on naturally-pink lips.

A well-tailored suit-skirt is what Calina wears today, in a shade of indigo so dark that it could be mistaken for black in the wrong light. It's shot through with pinstripes of silver. Cut perfectly to her figure, the outfit consists of an ankle-length skirt tailored to follow the curves of hip and thigh before loosening with a slit on either side from knee to hem, while the jacket is lightly padded along the shoulder and low-joining, the first button just below her bosom. Under this she wears a simple white shirt with a touch of lace along the collar, fake pearls forming the buttons that march up to her collarbone. Calf-high leather boots that lack decoration other than their snug fit case her feet, the heel raising her height by about two inches. Simple jewelry finishes the ensemble; two silver rings on her left index finger, a silver watch on that wrist and a silver chain about her neck with a pendant tucked under the shirt.Her ears are pierced with small hoops, once through each lobe and then again in the top of the left, just to prevent unfashionable symmetry.

The Sept Alpha arrives a few minutes late, perhaps deliberately, and it's not hard to guess his identity when he walks in. If the predatory aura didn't give it away, the unsightly facial scarring would certainly give one a clue. Dressed in casual, practical black clothing, he takes only a moment to skim over the interior of the cafe before making his way toward Calina's table. "Miss Petrov-Levushka, I presume?" he murmurs, blandly.

"Indeed, Mr Salem," Calina agrees, gesturing to the chair opposite her own, stormy blue eyes looking the 'top dog' over critically. Not quite what she was expecting, but then again, he /was/ a Shadow Lord once. "Please, sit down."

"Thank you." Salem's smile is thin and polite, his tone courteous, but his mismatched eyes remain cool. He takes a seat, gesturing one of the wait staff over and ordering a cup of coffee. "How are you settling in?"

Sitting back a little and sipping her own drink, Calina murmurs, "Well enough. This place is....different to what I was expecting, but not in a bad way." Her english is perfect, albeit slightly accented, and there's a hint of perpetual amusement in her eyes, almost mocking.

Salem steeples his fingers and regards her critically. "What were you expecting? And, for that matter, what prompted you to come to our little corner of the world?"

"Expecting? Somewhere a little...bigger, to be honest, given who's taken command. I know it's not a *small* place, but I was anticipating something....more," Calina remarks offhandedly, idly tapping a fingertip against her coffee cup. "As for why I came here....I felt like a change from New York."

Salem's eyes narrow faintly. "'Given who's taken command'?" His head cocks, birdlike, favoring his good eye.

Calina smiles pleasently, an expression that doesn't match the cynical humour in her eyes. "I've never known your kind to be content with a backwater," she replies explicitly. "Not that there's anything wrong with this place, of course. It's a nice little city."

Salem's return smile is somewhat less pleasant. There's the faintest show of teeth and that undertone of snarling beast, carefully leashed. "I've grown rather fond of it." The waiter brings the man's coffee, black, and retreats swiftly; Salem takes up the cup and sips. "So," he says. "You needed a change from New York. Why _here_?"

"New York is so big and fast-moving and....you know. Busy. I felt like coming somewhere a bit quieter, where I could concentrate on building a career, rather than fretting about the sound of police sirens outside," Calina replies casually. "Besides, the people seem....friendly."

"And what career would that be, madam?" Salem arches an eyebrow.

Calina smiles faintly, her humor for the moment genuine. "I work for a modelling agency," she responds, idly lifting her coffee to her lips and taking a sip.

"Ah," he says, blandly. "Of course you do." The insult is very subtle in his tone of voice. He takes another sip of coffee. "Have you met your cousins here yet?"

"As a photographer," Calina corrects gently, the insult unmissed. "Not as far as I'm aware; you're the first family I've met here," she adds, emphasising the 'family' connection.

"I thought that might be the case." Setting down his cup, Salem reaches into the breast pocket of his plain black t-shirt and sets down a business card; it's blank but for two phone numbers written on it. "The top is Jarred Aerhardt, the... head, of your people here. The other's a younger cousin who's rather new in town himself." He gives her another of those thin smiles, the kind that don't touch his eyes. "My number, you have already."

"The younger cousin's name?" Calina prompts, taking out a pen and jotting Jarred's name down next to the top number as she does so.

"Konstantin Radolenko," says the Alpha, smoothly.

Calina jots that down as well, though there's an odd glint to her eye as the name is given. "I see. Well, thankyou for your time, /cousin/," she murmurs, a vaguely bemused smile curving her lips. "I'm sure I'll be seeing more of you around from now on."

Salem's reply is a cool, "I'm certain of it. Is there anything you need to know, or anything I can do to make your settling-in go more... smoothly?"

Calina plucks out a business-card of her own and offers it over, tilted between fore- and middle-fingers. "Give this to Mr Aerhardt if you see him?" she requests politely, tucking her pen back into her purse. "Otherwise, I don't think so. The less time wasted, the better."

"I agree." Salem drains his cup and rises, getting out his wallet as he does so; he drops a couple of bills down on the table and stows away the business card.

"Do svedaneya," Calina bids with another mirthless smile, remaining seated as the other stands. "I'm sure I'll see you again, soon." The latter is almost purred, as if an invitation rather than a mocking reminder of circumstance.

Salem, in reply, simply inclines his head slightly and says, "Be seeing you." And then he leaves, much to the cafe's relief.