"Alluring, isn't it?"

[hazlogs]

It is currently Sat Aug 23 2003.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is clear outside. The temperature is 43 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 30.09 and rising, and the relative humidity is 100 percent. The dewpoint is 43 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent Moon phase (28% full).

It's only a couple of hours until noon... less than that, actually, and well past the time when Salem usually gets up. Between woods and city, he hasn't been home a lot, and the past few days have been even busier; he didn't get home last night until nearly five in the morning.

Mel makes her way back home with groceries, a small load - only one bag. Paper, not plastic, one of her own little unspoken quirks. "I'm home!" she calls, kicking the door closed, and running a hand tiredly through her tied-back hair. Sinfully tight blue denim jeans and a form-fitting white tank are the order of the day, for the woman. Groceries are deposited on the kitchen counter, and she simply pauses there a while, staring at them dully.

Salem's door opens while she's staring at the groceries, and the man himself emerges part-way, squinting and just awake -- rumpled hair, sweats, stubble and bare feet. He shakes off sleep-bleariness and moves toward the counter, saying, "Let me. Coffee?" As is, is there any?

"Quarter of a tin of instant left, but I just got some newly-ground stuff for the plunger, if you can wait that long." Green eyes regard the Walker with wry amusement, her expression suggesting she has her doubts about how much longer he should go without caffeine.

He has, apparantly, similar doubts. "Instant will have to do." Leaving her to put away the groceries, he sets about making the wonderful hot black stuff. "How's Drew?"

"Crap, last I checked. Don't get a mug f'me, I wanna try this new stuff." Mel slides gracefully around the counter to put away the groceries on her own after all.

Salem grunts. "The children?" He turns his head slightly, watching her out of the corner of his eye. His good eye.

"I think Di's got it in for me, cause she keeps thinking... enh. Russ is fine. Happy. Healthy. A little too quiet, though." Her head's down, expression clouded. "Well. More than I expected of a baby, anyway."

Salem's brow furrows. "Yes... well." He shrugs faintly -- not uncaring, just out of his league on the subject of what's 'normal' for infants (as if having a werewolf hitman for a father could be considered 'normal'). "What does Di keep thinking?"

"Whenever I come in, she keeps thinking it's Chaser coming home," the kinswoman murmurs faintly. The placement of goods in the pantry has a dull, mechanical motion to it.

Salem grimaces in sympathy. "Fuck." He runs the water, filling the coffeepot, mouth retraining that unhappy little twist. "She's... how old?"

"Four? Five? I dunno. Should be getting close to five, now." Mel pretty much stops, after closing a cupboard, and stares blankly at the packet of coffee beans she's left out. "S'at water still boiled, babe?" she murmurs dully.

"Still? I haven't put it on yet." He does this now, though, and cocks an eyebrow at her, studying her critically. "What's the matter?"

Obviously not entirely together, the kinswoman starts, looking over to Salem curiously. "Hm? Oh. Enh." She waves a hand with a dismissive flick. "Tired. Not entirely sure what to do with my weekend."

Salem leans an elbow on the kitchen counter near the (now-activated) coffeemaker and tilts his head at her. "How about a drive uptown later?" One corner of his mouth quirks upward. "I can show you Cockroach Mansion."

Mel rolls her eyes, and smiles despite herself. "Oh God. More roaches. /Just/ what I need."

Salem smirks. "Oh, you'll love it. It has," he states rather languidly, "a tower."

She grins, murmuring, "You're fuckin' kidding me. A tower. Where is this place?"

"Uptown, as I said. Fifteenth street." About as far from their current neighborhood as one can get and still be in the city, almost. Salem rubs a hand over his jaw and straightens up. "Let me get cleaned up, and we'll go after breakfast." He glances over at the clock over the sink. "Or lunch, since that's a bit closer."

"Decadent soul," Mel murmurs, accusingly, with a quietening smile. "Hurry your ass up."

He gives her a faint smirk, and with a wry, "Yes'm," prowls off to shower, shave, and dress.

Mel straightens up and makes her way over to the couch, while she waits, spending the time in a simple cat-nap. Sprawled out and yawning.

She's awakened by a hand on her shoulder, shaking lightly, and the smell of recently brewed coffee. "Rise and shine, Melanie." That's the first time he's used her full first name. "You get to pick what you want for lunch."

"Unhh." The redhead lifts hands to rub at her eyes, and frowns. "Midday naps without having even eaten," she murmurs. "I really am out of it." She frowns, murmuring idly, "What'd you call me?" But rises, also, and adds, "Let's go somewhere uptown. We'll go dutch, so it won't hurt y'pocket too much."

"You're far too kind," Salem replies, heading for the door with a quirked half-smile. "Ladies first." He is, yes, in a good mood -- has been for the past few weeks, in fact.

---

After a pleasant lunch, Salem drives into a neighborhood of high-priced homes, most of them with gates and walls. St. Uriel's, church and school, are in the area, as is the tall, four-story mansion known as the Dominion. It's the front gates of this that Salem pulls the Yugo up to, rolling down the window in order to tap several numbers into the keypad. "Leala and Jeremy are working on upgrading the security system," he says off-handedly.

"My. Fucking. God..." Mel murmurs with amusement, lips twisted wryly as she slips her tiny, round sunglasses down a little, to observe the entrance of the mansion. "Who'd you have to kill to get this?"

Salem chuckles quietly, glancing sidelong at her as the gates swing open. "The previous owner's been in Italy for the past several years. I suppose he decided that he wasn't going to come back." He drives slowly up the gravel driveway, toward the massive house. There really is a stone tower, too.

The redhead winds down her window and leans out of the car, a little, resting her elbow on the edge. "Huh. Whaddyaknow. I wonder..." Pushing the shades back up onto her nose, Mel queries, "What're you gonna use it for?"

"Family," says the Walker, putting the Yugo in park and cutting the engine. The orange car looks out of place in this environment, despite the fact that he takes good care of it (it's probably the best-cared-for Yugo in town, if not the only Yugo in town). He turns his face toward her, head cocked and gaze thoughtful. "A place to meet up and live in, for Garou and kin. Walkers, mainly, though there's few enough of us that I'm thinking of opening it up to select other city-types as well."

Mel's expression turns carefully neutral, as she murmurs, "Uh-huh..." thoughtfully. She gets out of the car, (whose paint colour she has remarked upon more than once) and bumps the door closed with that tiny derriere. Strolling towards the entance, she has her thumbs hitched in jeans pockets.

Salem's mouth quirks into a crooked grin when her back's turned. He follows her out of the car and toward the front door, the grin contained into a faint ghost of itself, hand diving into his pocket for his keys. Reaching past her, he unlocks the door and pushes it open, gesturing. "After you."

The kinswoman smiles brightly, "Such a gentleman," and walks inside, slipping off the shades and tucking them into her belt.

The interior of the big house is cool and dim, though the lights do work, as Salem proves by flipping a switch. He gestures vaguely, encompassing the visible interior, the dark-stained wood panelling on the walls, the hardwood floor, the huge hourglass-shaped staircase, all of it. And mostly unfurnished, still. "The bedrooms are upstairs. Leala and Cat have already picked theirs out... and Leala's thinking of setting up a darkroom as well."

Mel seems to study the place, simply standing in the 'lobby', and looking thoughftul. "Speechless, I am," she murmurs faintly, taking in the general impression of age, wood, and dignity.

Salem tilts his head, looking keenly at her. "Alluring, isn't it?"

Mel rounds on him, tilting her head and frowning slightly. "Have you got a girlfriend, Jack?"

Salem blinks, taken aback. "What?"

Mel folds her arms, head tilting and expression wry. "That's not an answer."

Salem grimaces, mouth thinned, and shakes his head -- not in negation, just grumpily rueful. He casts a glance upward toward the second floor, then looks back at her and nods curtly. "There's someone. Please don't spread it around."

"Name." Interrogation time.

Salem shakes his head again, and this time it _is_ a negation, his expression flat. "No one that you know."

Mel's eyes narrow slightly, and her expression could only be described as... determined. Or suspicious. "That doesn't really matter. I'd just like to know the easy way, rather than the hard way." A pause, and she steps forward, looking him over. "You shoulda' told me, oaf."