"Trace, Zach. Zach, Trace."

[hazlogs]

It is currently 20:17 Pacific Time on Wed Jul 26 2017.

Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 78 degrees Fahrenheit (25 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the northwest at 7 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.03 and steady, and the relative humidity is 48 percent. The dewpoint is 57 degrees Fahrenheit (13 degrees Celsius.) For more detail, see: http://www.wunderground.com/cgi-bin/findweather/getForecast?query=98501

Currently the moon is in the waxing Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (21% full).

Harbor Park -- Fountain

Situated in the center of a large, open meadow is a clustering of six trees, a flower bed, a few steel-and-wood benches set firmly into concrete, and a flagstone courtyard that is dominated by a large fountain.

The fountain is a wide circular pool of water some fifty feet across and about five feet deep in most places. The sculpture in the center is a mix of old and new, traditional and modern: eight concrete-and-stainless-steel slabs about six feet high are set in a rough Stonehenge-like circle around the center of the fountain. Water flows from their tops, cascading in bright mesmerizing sheets to the pool below. Rising above the steel circle is a large marble statue of the Water Bearer, an androgynous figure draped in robes of flowing water. It bears a large jug carved with various Greek symbols, from which pours a seething torrent of water into the pool at its feet.

Cars on the nearby street have an excellent view of the park as do any residents of the tall buildings which line the waterfront.

The murky waters of the Columbia River flow swiftly along the east side of the park. Bracketing the park to the west is First Street and the city of St. Claire. Recent construction work is creating an earthen berm several feet high all along the borders of the park in all directions.

"It won't be enough until something gets done about Hanford itself," Trace says, "until then anything..." he looks over at the river, but he's not quite talking to Zach any more. Both of them are a little bit off from the fountain, a few feet away from each other, having a conversation of sorts. Trace shakes his head then and looks at the fountain, and snuffs out his cigarette on his boot before tucking the extinguished butt into the pocket of the training jacket, then pulls out another cigarette. "Then again." He shrugs.

"You ever been?" Zach asks, thumbing roughly 'up river' or as best as he can figure from where he's standing. This suggests that he hasn't, yet. But... "I've heard it's a mess. Cleaning that up's a tall-ass order."

Salem comes a-slouching along one of the park's walking paths toward the fountain, doing a pretty decent impression of indifferent youth, earbud wires trailing out from his ears and into a pocket, hood up on the light cotton hoodie. Good enough for a casual glance, especially since many normal folks wouldn't want to do more than that anyway, what with the Curse and all. A perceptive eye might note that he's too alert for someone with music blasting in their ears, or that the slouching walk is a little too deliberate.

Trace shakes his head, and lights the cigarette. Most people are leaving Trace and Zach alone, for that matter. "If the mess down here is anything to judge it by, I'd say you're right," he agrees, and then there's a quirk of a smile except that too seems all too predatory, just a little bit too much teeth showing, but whatever else that Trace was going to say, he's distracted by Salem walking down the path, although he manages to not /quite/ straighten to attention. But Salem does get a bit of a wave.

The wave pulls Zach's attention, and there's recognition there when he spies Salem. That's when Zach looks back and forth between Trace and Salem and there's a non-verbal sound like Zach puts something together. "'Sup," Zach tosses Salem's way, not really caring if it's loud enough to get through the headphones or not - the non-verbal components of the greeting might be enough anyway.

The teenaged Philodox plucks out one of the earbuds; no sound of music is forthcoming from it, not even faintly. "'Sup," he says, echoing Zach. He eyeballs the pair of them. "Didn't know you two knew each other."

The ahroun blinks and shakes his head, although that last bit of excess tension seems to have faded with the other Glass Walker's arrival and recognition of Zach. Which still leaves plenty of tension to spare. "We didn't," he says, "or don't. Or--" Now the ahroun looks slightly confused, for a moment, and gives further study to looking at Zach. "I was just on my regular afternoon jog a little bit... early, and we kinda ran into each other."

Zach makes a gesture towards Trace that's something like, 'what he said,' for Salem's benefit. "Some day, though, I need to chat with your guest again, if you've got the time. Basically no rush." It might be a test, it might be fishing. It's an odd thing for Zach to lead with, perhaps, but there it is.

Salem's mouth goes tight; he nods. "That can be arranged, certainly." He looks between the two of them, then makes rough introductions. "Trace, Zach. Zach, Trace." He explains further: "Trace is a cousin of mine with a similar interest in cockroaches. Zach is... an ally in the know."

"Oh good, I don't have to try and make awkward small talk about the weather and what I do to pass the time anymore," Trace says, and offers both of them a slightly brighter grin.

Zach gives Trace a blank look and snorts. "Ahhh, naw." He says, shaking his head. "Jesus. How long were you wondering? I mean," he gestures towards the fountain, "I freakin'... see?" He turns to Salem, "This. This is why all this tiptoeing is all horseshit."

Naturally dark hair is parted from the right, feathered so that unless one looks him directly in the eye, it obscures the left eye and most of the left side of the face of the man, somewhere in his mid-to-late twenties perhaps, who wears it. It's an otherwise normal white/caucasian face showing only minimal scarring from the usual encounter with acne in his youth. He has a pair of hazel eyes, calm and showing some age beyond their years but the rest of his face seems a touch younger. He keeps cleanshaven. His jawline is on the square side but not harshly so, his chin juts a little bit, below full lips.

He's of trim frame, athletic and in good shape, though not exactly the poster child for a health club. His strength is quiet - tone rather than muscle definition. Wiry, is the word. He carries all six even feet of himself about with a casual sort of grace but one that has a tense edge to it - like his presentation isn't entirely to be trusted. At rest his body is always loose, relaxed, but again there's that edge to him. His clothing today seems focused on a military-casual theme, all shades of grey and black with cammo in as many places as he could put it.

Black leather boots are laced to the top, providing a good amount of support and containing the bloused-out cuffs of the urban-cammo miltary cargos. The pants are in the style of the US Navy Working Uniform, a pixellated hodebodge of blues and greys. The pockets installed all over the pants seem occupied by a variety of small effects, and the pants themselves seem to be both durable and fairly new. They are belted in black leather, above these is a simple grey T-shirt which reads, "He who dies with the most toys..." on the front, and "...Still dies. No Fear" on the back. His hands are unadorned save for a cheap athletic watch on his left wrist.

Salem squints up at Zach, his expression still tight. Tighter, if anything. "That's a debate for another time." He tucks the earbud back into his ear. "Call me when you're wanting to come visit."

Trace lifts his shoulders in a little bit of a shrug, and inclines his head towards Salem. "Heya, uh." There's a pause, the ahroun /still/ not quite sure how properly to address his teenaged tribemate, and so settles on no additional anything, beyond the information. "Emma an' I found a weird piece of paper out at Edgewood today, and she's got it now. Had a bunch of cryptic stuff on it that was probably less nonsense than it struck me as."

Zach gives Salem's brush-off little more of an acknowledgement than a smirk and a nod, at once accepting the postponement and also shaking his head at the whole thing. As the apparently younger of the two of them seems about to make his exit, Zach doesn't spare him much more attention. "So there we are."

Salem eyeballs Trace; this wasn't news he wanted to hear. "Ah, shit." He shakes his head and heads off. Got places to be, obviously.