"Don't feed my paranoia. It's quite healthy all on its own."

[hazlogs]

It is currently Sat Sep 27 2003.

Currently the moon is in the waxing No Moon phase (8% full).

You paged the room with 'Oh! One more thing. Mel's birthday was sometime in August. Present was a Night Out -- dinner at a nice restaurant (the kind you make reservations and have to wear a tie for) and a night at the theater... on a new-moon evening so Salem'd be at his best. And full gentlemanly treatment, of course, proving that the bastard can be damned charming when he puts forth the effort.'.
From afar, Mel claps her hands gleefully!
Long distance to Mel: Salem wore a tux and the cufflinks she gave him and _everything_.

It's just after noon on Saturday when Salem returns from his morning errands, carrying a paper bag with a few minor grocery-things that needed picking up -- half-gallon of milk, some bread, that sort of thing. He's been in a good mood the past couple of days, though today seems somewhat preoccupied and thoughtful. Probably something to do with what goes on out in the woods -- which is where he was last night, patrolling on that place called the 'bawn'.

Mel's upside-down on the couch, in that position she likes to take, which leaves her free to swing mostly-bare legs in the air idly and view the world from a different perspective. Often necessary, when on hold to the phone company. She sighs idly, arching an eyebrow in greeting as he enters.

Salem returns the greeting with a nod, keys vanishing into a pocket as he heads for the kitchen and starts putting the milk and such away. "Had any thoughts about lunch?" he asks, absently.

"Foccacia. With salad. /Fresh/ salad. And maybe a few types of meat. Bacon... ham..." The redhead sighs faintly, eyeing the phone sideways. Her fingers are well and truly tangled in the cord - it'll be a wonder if she can untangle them.

Salem hrmphs. "We'll go out after you're done there, then." Closing the fridge, he leans against the breakfast counter and casts a look around the apartment.

Boxes hidden discriminately, and most clutter also cleared away. Items of essential day to day living (by her standards at least), are still there - TV, stereo. Lamps. A few books. Things have been cleaned, scrubbed spotless. Mel takes a long, deep sigh, and deftly starts untangling the phone cord, leaving it knotless. "Twenty-five minutes. Think I'm gonna call on a /Wednesday/."

Salem's smile is thin and crooked. "Your sacrifice is appreciated." He turns back into the kitchen and starts opening cabinets, seeking the few glasses that haven't gotten packed away. "Get you a drink?" he calls over.

"Surprise me." Mel reaches over extending a long, delicate finger, and hanging up with some aplomb. She stretches and extends the legs even further, pointing toes at the ceiling thoughtfully. The handset is returned to its cradle. carelessly.

Salem replies with a dry, "As you wish..." as he gets down a couple of glasses. "A word of advice, Mel. Never talk to a Theurge when he's been communing with the spirits. By the way. Spoken to Renee lately? Or Lyra?"

"Renee stopped by. Pretty rattled about the Gnawerhouses going up. Mostly about the kin dying. She's pretty cut up." Sighing and lowering herself to a more dignified and ladylike position, on the couch, Mel notes absently, "Been checking up on her? She could probably do with it..."

Salem grunts. "Not yet... I tracked Raul down. He lost his, mm, mate and pups. Decided to indulge in a few days of forgetfulness." He comes into the living room area with two glasses of fruit juice, with ice, and hands her one. "Chatted with him a bit. He should be all right."

Quiet green eyes accept the information as her hands accept the glass, without change, more watching the Walker and his own behaviour. Reclining with grace and ease, Mel sips in silence.

Salem clearly doesn't think very highly of Raul; there was a subtle grimace at mention of the mate and puppies. He takes a perch on the arm of the couch near her feet. "The church, the Rialto, _and_ the junkyard." He frowns. "I don't suppose she told you exactly what happened?"

"Dancers or kin linked to..." Her own jaw tightens there, a subtle rigidity entering her lithe form. "Seattle, came and blew up those locations. Took themselves out in the process, apparently. They suspect Glissa was responsible for revealing the location. Meaning... probably anything Glissa ever knew about, isn't safe." Her tone's soft and neutral, which is somewhat telling. There's steel underneath that.

Salem's jaw tightens. "Damn," he says quietly. "Again?" Frowning, he sips his juice, his eyes narrowing as his eyes shift away from her. Thinking for a moment. "The farmhouse." He thinks a moment more, then looks back at her. "I don't think there are any other safehouses Glissa knew. Still..." His frown deepens. "They might hit Harbor Park next, or... Shit." He grimaces, looking irritably down at his glass.

"Where I'm planning to move in to?" she asks sweetly, smiling a smile that's only a few tight steps away from a grimace.

Salem glances up. "No. Glissa never knew about the Dominion." He snorts. "We only just _got_ the place. But her old home, hm. Lianne owns that. I'll have to warn her." He grunts, gets to his feet. "Speaking of the safehouse, you want to bring some things over there and pick your room?"

"Yeah. Though honestly, I think it doesn't really matter where you go, if they know /who/ you are." Mel looks down to the glass, swirling the liquid inside, absently. "A... wise man used to say, if you're determined to find someone... the worse your reasons for doing so, the more likely you are to find them."

Salem's mouth thins. "Don't feed my paranoia. It's quite healthy all on its own." He walks back into the kitchen, draining his glass as he goes.

"Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean everyone's not out to get me..." she quotes again, from popular lore. Rising, Mel grunts, "I'd rather be protected by someone paranoid than someone self-secure."

Salem makes a low 'mm' noise. "...Have to discuss security with Leala..." This is more to himself than the redhead, though. Water runs in the sink as he rinses out his glass. He gives her a gallows smile. "Well, if nothing else, if the Dominion blows up, it will be a _very_ big bang."

The redhead glides over, tipping back her glass on the way, and then leaning over to use the sink as well. "Whatever you say, Jack." A pause for a beat, then, "How's the weather out there? I need a coat?"

Salem shakes his head. "Mid-seventies and sunny. You can do without." His glass goes in the dish-drainer and he wipes his hands dry.

She nods and turns to head to her room, starting to unbutton the shirt she's wearing, already. It's hanging open by the time she closes the door, allowing more of the perfume to escape. She re-emerges moments later in a tight dark grey tank, emblazoned with the legend, 'You got five seconds. ...Stop looking now.' Skimpy blue shorts have been replaced with more respectable (but no less ass-hugging) long light grey cargos, a heavily studded belt around them, pulling the waistband down, it seems, purely to show off some midriff. Artfully chosen in the space of seconds. "Got a place in mind?"

Salem is dressed in his usual black t-shirt and BDUs; the pocketwatch she gave him provides one of the few sparks of color in the dour ensemble. He grabs a box on the way out. "There's a nice little cafe near Fifteenth Street. You'll like it, I think."

She smiles faintly, nodding once in confirmation. "I know the place. Never eaten there, though." There's a sudden hint of recollection, a flash of fire behind her eyes. "Mmm... Yeah. You paying?" she advances cautiously.

Salem cocks an eyebrow at her. "If you want," he says, amibly enough. "Why?"

Mel wrinkles her nose and shrugs. "Nothing. I was thinking if there's a certain girl working there, I'd do all the paying and leave big nasty tips to show her I'm in the money and stuff, then you'd buy lunch for the next five times or something." She winks, slipping hands into her pockets. "But that'd be immature. Let's just have something nice."

Salem utters an amused snort. "Yes, let's. Keep your karma pure." He nods toward the door, his own arms full of neatly-packed and neatly-labelled box.

She lets him cart it, declining to do so for herself, in any way. Before he can ask, she opens the door for him and queries, "You sure you wanna move stuff so quickly?"

"I'd rather do it a little at a time than all at once, say," is Salem's reply.

"Sounds familiar. Sure. You carry one every time, we work out OK..." Mel rests a hand on one tilted hip, watching him thoughtfully. "I like when you behave like a gentleman, Jack. A little bit doormatty, but also more endearing than the dark anti-hero thing you got going."

Salem leads the way down the stairs. "Women like the bad boys," he replies sardonically, "but they never bring them home. Certain exceptions aside." He hrmphs. "I'm glad you approve."

Mel follows, closing the door and strutting behind with her hands behind her back and a wry smile.

Lunch and moving stuff follow. Handwaved. Later...


Zoo Main Office

The doors to this squat, ugly, single-story, 3,000 square foot cinder block building were stolen long ago. The floors throughout the building are strewn with trash, often piling up in corners of rooms to five or six feet and with an occasional hypodermic needle or used condom visible here and there. Broken glass twinkles all over. The entire place is dark, devoid of water and electricity. All the toilets have been stolen. Unsurprisingly, the place smells of shit, urine, and vomit throughout. The only saving graces to this dungheap are the building's roof, which doesn't seem to leak, the windows in each room, which save the building from being pitch black inside rather than just dark, and the relative privacy from the outside, fenced off city.

The Glass Walker pockets the Questing Stone as he arrives, and he gives the abandoned zoo a dour look, nose wrinkled. Since the office building lacks doors, Salem raps a knuckle against the empty doorframe and calls into the stinking dimness of the interior, "Anyone home?"

Someone moves around inside the building and Renee steps into view a short time later. "Yo."

Salem focusses on the Bone Gnawer and looks her up and down a moment before nodding. "I apologize for not stopping by sooner," the Glass Walker says from the entrance. "Apart from the kindogs and the lupus pup... any casualties? How's the junkyard's owner holding up?"

Renee slowly shakes her head. "No. Lance seems ta be doin' fine. Searchin' out new places fer us. This one need some work, but it'll do."

"I can donate some ammonia... and disinfectant." Salem smiles thinly. "The Dominion's open if anyone needs a place to stay... or to retreat to... until you get things settled. Or if anything goes sour." He takes a few steps into the dim interior, hands hooked into the pockets of his BDUs. "What happened, exactly?"

Renee wrinkles her nose. "Fuckin' Dancers from Seattle, decided ta send us a present. Some guy from the postal service, complete with truck showed up with a box at the church. Was all fuckin' weird. While we were tryin' ta get some info outta him, he grinned real wide all of a sudden an' the box blew. Musta been Dancer Kin, or some shit."

Salem grimaces. "I suppose we should feel grateful that they waited _this_ long to start fucking with us again," he says, pacing along the walls slowly. He grunts. "Well. That's the last of the safeplaces that Glissa knew about... except for the farmhouse. Mm. I wouldn't be surprised if they went after that next... or Harbor Park, if they're planning to cement themselves in the city."

Renee bares her teeth and growls softly, as her eyes track the Alpha's steps. "Gonna be in a nasty surprise, if they try goin' fer the Park."

Salem makes a low noise, not quite a 'heh', not quite a grunt. He pauses, cocking an eye at her. "I talked to Jamethon last night. Seems he's been chatting with Chimera, who says that there's a fire coming. Though we're not to fear 'the fire that doesn't burn' or something equally enigmatic."

Renee perses her lips. "Fuck, thats all we need. Our liver-eater is back again. In some old lady's body this time." The Gnawer looks around her, scowling. "Need ta work on gettin' lupus kin again. We do have three left, but they're only 'bout a year old. Gave'em ta Aubrey, before the shit hit the fan."

"I'd heard about the old lady from our newest Shadow Lord," Salem says, not commenting on the whole 'Gnawer lupus kin' issue. It's a new moon; he's allowed to be tactful. "What's your opinion on her?"

Renee shrugs. "Seems eager ta please, ta get shit done. Seems fine ta me."

Salem mms. "That's how she came across to me as well." He continues his circuit of the room, stepping aside to avoid a disturbing-looking stain on the floor.

Renee quirks a grin, as she watches the other Fostern. "Gonna haveta disapear from the city fer a little bit, in a few months."

Salem pauses at a window, glancing out of it. "Oh? Why?"

Renee stuffs her hands into her pockets. "Like I said, got somethin' of a sad situation when it comes our lupus kin. What good blood-lines we had are gone. Need ta start anew, if we're gonna keep survivin'."

Salem turns his eye toward her and, after a moment, nods. "Going to adopt some from another location?"

Renee mmmms. "Not quite." The Gnawer smirks. "You might even end up aprovin'. We'll see."

Salem chuckles briefly, a low 'heh'. "Indeed." He changes the subject. "How's Lyra?"

Renee frowns and briefly glances over her shoulder. "She ditched the toys. Seems ta be getting better, on te whole."

Salem nods. "Growing up," he says quietly. He shakes his head. "Do you know, some time ago she came to me wanting to be judged for her relationship with Quentin?"

Renee tilts her head to one side. "No, she didn't talk ta me 'bout that."

Salem leans a shoulder against the windowframe and folds his arms across his chest, looking at her. He nods. "Wasn't long after Quentin moved back to Steel Angel." He pauses a beat, then adds, "I told her I wouldn't do it."

Renee grunts softly and frowns. "I see. I'll keep that in mind. Jus' so you have some warnin' Salem, I had my ass kicked my a Leech jus' over a month ago. Ended up wakin' up in Hilliard."

Salem arches an eyebrow. "Not our 'friend' Ebony, I presume?"

Renee shakes her head. "Jackass that started ripping out throats in the middle of the Temple. Rina was there, before I ended up with my head bein' kicked in. Made a brief run by after I skipped outta the Hospital. Seemed okay. Police have my face an' are keepin' an eye out for me, 'cause I disapeared on'em before they could start shootin' off questions. Moved outta my old place."

Salem scowls. "Oh, _that_... yes, Rina'd told me about that. You're sure it was a vampire?"

Renee frowns. "Had fuckin' fangs, Salem an' was suckin' away at the guy's necks. I'd say so."

Salem nods, his mouth thinned. "All right." He seems satisfied with this, though not at all pleased. "Konstantin was there, too, apparantly, though he obviously was laying low."

Renee grunts. "Wouldn't surprise me."

"Well, he _is_ a Ragabash..." The Walker trails off, lips pursed, his gaze going distant for a moment. "Mel and I are going to be moving into the Dominion... as soon as she can get someone to take over our lease for the old place."

Renee forwns. "Hmm. Sure thats a good idea? Going ta take time, but the twitch factor is gonna build up."

Salem shrugs. "It's her own decision... and, anyway, she hasn't had any problem living with _me_." He smirks faintly. "And in much closer circumstances than the Dominion."

Renee smirks. "Hey, gotta mention it. She is the one that keeps sayin' she wants nothin' ta do with us."

Salem snorts. "I think it's more apt that she doesn't want anything to do with the _Fianna_. She seems to like us urrah just fine."

Renee shrugs. "You know her better then I do Salem. Not about ta argue with ya."

Salem smiles faintly. "If I see her getting twitchy, I'll put her up somewhere else. But I doubt she'll go even then. She has a certain amount of pride."

Renee nods. "Sounds like a plan ta me." The Gnawer sighs, cheeks puffing out. "Fuckin' mess, this whole place."

Salem casts a look around the room and wrinkles his nose, obviously agreeing. "It'll be a good spot, though, once it's cleaned up." He eyes Renee. "Tell you what. There's still some work that needs doing at the Dominion. Mostly on the grounds. If your people will consider helping out with _that_, we'll help you get _this_ place cleaned up." He straightens up, mouth quirked into a distinctly wry half-smile. "We'll combine elbow grease."

Renee smirsk. "Sure. Why not. More of us here, more creep-factor we'll get." The Gnawer points toward the fencing. Little patching her an' there an' we'll have some privacy, along with the ability ta set up some alarms. Trip wires an' shit."

"Don't neglect the Umbra," Salem says, in a tone which suggests he figures this warning isn't really necessary. "Get Raul to set up some defenses there... he seems to have a nack at spirits."

Renee smiles. "Heh. Oh fuck yea. Considin' how close we are ta the hospital? Once this place is liviable, we'll be focusin' on the Umbra for a fuckin' long time. Gotta take a bit ta properly clean out the area."

"Let me know if you need an extra pair of claws," Salem says, taking out his pocketwatch and glancing briefly at it. He looks back at the Gnawer Elder. "As far as I'm concerned, the more safe and _clean_ places we have in this city, the better."

Renee smirks. "You an' me both. Ya look like ya got shit ta do. Catch ya later?"

Salem nods. "Stop by the Dominion if you've a mind. It's over on fifteenth street." He smiles sardonically as he heads for the door. "It's not hard to spot... look for the house with the tower."

Renee smirks. "Cool. Catch ya later."

Salem lifts a hand in farewell and leaves.