"I never _did_ want the job, to be perfectly honest."

[hazlogs]

It is currently 19:53 Pacific Time on Wed Nov 26 2003.

Currently the moon is in the waxing No Moon phase (19% full).

The Dominion Estate

The temperature is near freezing and Renee's breath steams in the air, as she pushes the intercom button. "Hey! Anyone home! I'm fuckin' freezin' out here!"

The reply comes not from the intercom, but from the jet-black metal gate, which silently opens for the Bone Gnawer. At the end of the long driveway, a few lights burn in the ground floor of the mansion.

Renee snorts and stuffs her hands into her pockets, before making her way up the driveway and to the front gate of the mansion.

Salem opens the front door as Renee trudges up toward it. The grounds are well-lit -- a security measure, one might imagine. "You're a little out of your way," the Walker says by way of greeting. "You didn't walk, did you?"

Renee shrugs. "How do ya think I got here. Ain't exactly got a car, or a bike fer that matter."

"Should get a bicycle, at least. When four legs isn't convenient." Stepping aside, Salem invites Renee into the warmth of the Glass Walker safehouse. "Can I offer you anything?"

Cockroach Mansion -- Downstairs

The heavy, dark opulence to this mansion known as Dominion is perfectly exemplified by the room vistors first enter, this front hall. Dark-stained wood serves as paneling on the walls, gleams with high gloss in the hardwood floor, and supports a semi-circular balcony in carved pillars. The heavy double doors, made of oak, open into the hall from the south, opposite the huge, hourglass-shaped staircase composed of red and black gneiss which soars up to the balcony; both are fenced in with a wooden railing of simple spiraled posts. Several doorways can be made out on the second floor, nearly blending in discreetly with the back wall. The wall to the left of the front doors is composed entirely of windows which run from the forty-foot-tall domed dark wood ceiling to the floor; if drawn, the heavy velvet drapes of deep red would completely mask them from view, but when parted, as they often are, one has a marvelous view of the grounds outside.

A doorway to the right of the front doors leads to a parlor, and towards the back are the kitchens, the large dining room, and Salem's office.

Renee scratches at the back of neck, as she follows the Walker inside. "Somethin' warm would be nice. Coffee, if ya have it."

"I just made a pot," Salem says, leading her toward the back to the kitchen. Which is big, like the rest of the place; they pass through the dining room with its long wood table. The central heat keeps things quite comfortable, but there just aren't enough people habitating the space.

Renee looks around her as she walks down the hall, nose wrinkling up as she examines her surroundings. "looks like the place cost ya a pretty penny. Ya here all alone?" She asks, shrugging off her outter jacket and draping it over the table. "S'big," the Galliard adds, rubbing at her scared arms.

Salem is dressed plainly in a white t-shirt and black sweatpants; he's barefoot as she's seen him before, when he lived in the little apartment on Elson Street. "Leala's money paid for it. She lives here, along with a few others. Mel, too." He glances back at her, the narrow face twitching into a thin, humorless smile. "Yes, it's big." Then he shrugs, preceding her into the gleaming, spacious kitchen and toward the coffeemaker. "Milk, sugar?"

"Both," Renee replies, as she takes a seat. "Thanks. So, I heard ya handed Alphaship over ta Luke."

Salem pauses briefly in reaching for a cabinet handle, head cocking. Then he nods, his back mostly turned toward her. "I did, yes." He gets down a couple of mugs and sets them on the counter next to the coffeepot. "News travels fast."

Renee smirks. "Gatherin' info is my line of work, ya know. Decided ya didn't want the job after all?"

Salem gets the milk from the fridge. He grunts. "I never _did_ want the job, to be perfectly honest."

Renee hehs and runs a hand through her hair. "Couldn't agree more with ya. Thankless job."

A subtle tension in the Glass Walker loosens. He smirks and sets to pouring coffee into the two mugs. "Luke has big plans. Whether or not he can accomplish said plans... hmph." He shrugs, pushing one mug toward her and pouring his own; she can milk-and-sugar it to her own taste. "I have my doubts. But I've been wrong before."

Renee smirks. "An' almost non of them involve the city. Boy really has no clue, when it comes ta the shit that goes down here." The girl drags the coffee over and inhales deeply, before adding some milk and suger.

"Fiannaboy Mark Two." Salem lifts his mug in a cynical toast, then takes a swallow.

Renee sips from her own mug and leans back. "Remember that was some word of a Corax, before ya left? Seems the bird has been kickin' around the Farmhouse some. S'got a couple of hackles raised."

Salem makes a 'hrmph' noise. "Why am I not surprised." He leans against the counter. "Could be a useful ally, though."

Renee mmms, running her finger over the rim of the mug. "Craig and Trevor have seen the thing. Talkin' ta the two of'em, its seems that our bird is a girl an' was feedin' Luke info about vamps. S'probably how he figured out where the warehouse was."

Salem cups his mug in both hands, nodding slightly at her words. "Feeding info is what Corax _do_. Feeding info and finding out secrets. It's what Gaia made them for." He takes another sip.

Renee mmms. "All I know is Trevor was all up an' arms 'bout the bird hangin' around the cubs."

Salem lifts an inquiring eyebrow. "Trevor?"

Renee runs and her nose, then sips from her mug of coffee. "Fianna, Galliard. Knows a shit-load of Rites."

"Someone new." Salem frowns slightly, though not at the Gnawer, then shakes his head as if dismissing some thought.

Renee yawns and rubs at her eyes. "Startin' ta wonder what I'm gonna do with Craig. He managed some sort of deal with the dead guy in his head, with the aid of a Theurge down at the Green. Guy'll leave him be, if he does three big favours for the Gaians. No fuckin' idea what he could do for'em and Alicia ain't bein' much help."

Salem wrinkles his nose. "Three big favors? How big?"

Renee shrugs. "That wasn't specified, not ta me. Suppose anythin' they consider useful, or reasonably difficult."

"Hmmm." Salem sips his coffee, eyes narrowed in thought. "Well, he _is_ a Ragabash, and the Gaians don't have any apart from a cub. He _could_ teach her a few things, theoretically."

Renee mms. "I'll mention it ta him." The last of the coffee is drained off, then the mug is set aside. "Oh, an' if ya do manage to run across Craig, don't be too surprised if he acts kinda weird. Yer a half-moon an' a Fostern. That'll be enough ta set Standing-Stone off. Guy is a royal pain in the arse," the Galliard grumps.

Salem shows that crooked, cynical smile of his. "Thank you for the warning. I'll be on my guard."

Renee sighs cheeks puffing out. "I should head back. Tired."

Salem nods, then drains his cup. "I appreciate the visit. Need a lift back?"

"Be nice," Renee replies after a moment of thought. "It aint a short walk."

Salem straightens up. "Let me get my coat. And some shoes." He sets the empty cup in the sink and heads into the back, toward his office and personal quarters.