"Heard from Drew today."

[hazlogs]

It is currently 23:33 Pacific Time on Thu Feb 19 2004.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 35 degrees
      Fahrenheit (1 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric 
      pressure reading is 30.25 and steady, and the relative humidity is 92 
      percent. The dewpoint is 33 degrees Fahrenheit (0 degrees Celsius.)
Currently the moon is in the waning No Moon phase (4% full).

Cockroach Mansion -- Elder's Office
Salem's office is an extension of the same elegant display of wealth which
      characterizes the rest of the mansion. Most noticeable, from the doorway 
      in the southern wall, is the large black-veined white marble fireplace 
      taking up half of the northern part of the room, contrasting sharply with 
      the ebony-paneled walls. A rug of forest green carpets the floor from 
      wall to wall, while red velvet frames the wall of windows to the west.
The other decor is typical of the private office of a wealthy, old-world
      businessmen, from the ponderous mahogany desk along the eastern wall and 
      the equally heavy chairs set before them, to the brass and glass 
      chandelier dangling from the ceiling. A reproduction of Van Gogh's 
      _Starry Night_ hangs above the fireplace, and the bookshelves behind the 
      desk are, so far, nearly empty.
A door at the far end of the office leads into an adjoining bedroom and
      bathroom. This door is usually kept closed.

Rina comes in quietly, her jacket making its usual noise. The door closes
      heavily. Stripping off her extra layers, the Kin reveals lean-cut leather 
      jeans and a fishnet shirt, the cuts livid on pale skin.
Salem looks up from the glow of laptop screen; that and the dance of flame from
      the fireplace are the room's only illumination. Seeing her, he taps a few 
      more keys, then closes down the window he was working in. His 
      expression's difficult to read thoroughly, but he seems pleased to see 
      her.
Rina appears at his door like a dark ghost, eyes huge against the lightness of
      her face.
"You all right, Rina?" he asks quietly.
Rina nods minutely, and swallows. "Yeah. I was... just thinking."
Salem closes the laptop carefully and sits back, nodding her toward a chair. To
      one side, on the desk, sits a bottle-shaped velvet bag with some dutch 
      lettering written faintly on it. "Thinking about what?"
She swallows again, avoiding his gaze as she sits down. "There was something on
      the news. The day after I had my... disagreement." Her hand moves to her 
      shoulder, scratching a little at the wounds there. "They... found a body. 
      A girl in the Montrose, stabbed to death."
Salem's face tightens. "...Shit." He scowls. "You're sure you can't remember
      the bastard's name?"
Rina shakes her head, her eyes half-closing. "I don't even know if I ever knew
      it," she murmurs. She closes her eyes tight for a moment. "She looked 
      like me."
Salem passes a hand over his face, muttering something under his breath. Then
      he looks at her with grim, shadowed eyes. "Maybe you should keep clear of 
      the studio for a while. You don't have to stay here if you don't want to, 
      but if he knows where you _live_..."
Rina looks to him, her eyes narrowed slightly. "If he knows where I live, let
      him come," she says grimly.
Salem stares right back, frowning. After a moment or two of unhappy silence, he
      grunts and sits back. "Heard from Drew today."
It seems to strike her, like a physical assault; she turns her face away from
      the blow, her eyes lowered. "How are they?" she asks, quiet and hoarse.
"They're in Portland," he says evenly, his gaze steady upon her. "House with a
      back yard. Family nearby. They're getting a puppy, Di says." The lean, 
      scarred, hard face turns wistful.
Rina looks at him, blinking suddenly--wearing the blank uncomprehending look of
      someone impaled on a spear. It's an expression he's seen before, and 
      hoped never to see again. "She-- she left?" Small words, in a small voice.
Salem grimaces, looking away, studying his folded hands on the desk in front of
      him. "Too many memories here," he murmurs. "Too many ghosts."
Blinking, she averts her gaze--slowly absorbing the shock of it. The hurt shows
      only as a numb, distanced look; she seems unaware of the tears that run 
      slowly down her cheeks.
Salem glances up at her and then sighs. "It's better for them. The children.
      Better than some crappy apartment near a bunch of raging, backward 
      beasts. Maybe they can get away from... all of this. Live a normal life." 
      He pauses a moment, as if unsure whether or not he should say what he's 
      going to say next.
"Are they both marked?" Rina whispers. Her face is blank, distant.
Salem passes a hand over his face. "Di is kin. Russ... no. By the time she let
      us near him, it was too late to do the ritual." He grimaces, then shrugs 
      minutely. "So I'll have to keep tabs. She's not breaking off all contact, 
      at least."
Rina swallows. "At least," she says numbly. Abruptly, she stands up and turns
      to leave the office, a blind and unhurried progress.
Salem swears in Serbian, then calls her name as he gets up from the chair,
      following her quickly.
She catches herself against the doorway with the uninjured arm, her head bowed.
      "What," she asks in a broken voice. Strained, unsteady. "I can't-- I--"
Salem stops just within arm's length, looking frustrated. "I shouldn't have
      told you, probably. But I couldn't _not_ tell you."
She ducks her head, choking on her tears. "I-- I--"
Salem sighs silently, then takes a step forward, touching a hand to the back of
      her neck. "Shh. Catch your breath."
The scar there is rough under his fingers. She shivers with tension, ducking
      her head hard, a sob catching in her throat.
"Come on. Sit down." Salem's voice is calm, soothing, persuasive. "I'm sorry.
      My timing is shit. I should have waited to tell you."
Rina swallows, trying to get the tears under control, to steady herself. She
      turns and paces, obediently, to drop back intop the chair. "That's not 
      fair," she murmurs, listless.
Salem arches a brow. "Pardon?" He walks around the desk slowly to settle into
      his own chair.
Rina swallows. "You did something," she says quietly. "Because I was /so/
      leaving, and now I'm not." She looks across to him, her eyes dark with 
      thought.

[Unfinished, obviously.]