"He thinks I stole his fetish."

[hazlogs]

Currently in Saint Claire, it is raining lightly. The temperature is 50 degrees
      Fahrenheit (10 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the 
      south at 6 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.76 and falling, and 
      the relative humidity is 86 percent. The dewpoint is 46 degrees 
      Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing No Moon phase (0% full).

It is currently 18:08 Pacific Time on Mon Apr 19 2004.

Flash

        He's tall but gawky, a rail-thin, bit-over-six-foot beanpole with dark
      blond hair that's almost brown and muddy blue eyes that usually are 
      forced to peer out from behind overlong bangs. While he's not out-and-out 
      ugly, his youthful, nerdish features are not particularly handsome, 
      either, and depending on what he's wearing he looks to be anywhere from 
      his late teens to his mid-twenties. His tenor voice, which tends to rise 
      in octave when he's worked up, has an accent that's hard to pin down.

        Written in simple black letters on his gray t-shirt are the words, "Lie
      like you mean it." The shirt's untucked over a pair of faded blue jeans 
      with huge holes in the knees, and when it gets too chilly, he's got an 
      equally faded jean-jacket that wouldn't have looked out of place in the 
      1980s. Battered LA Gear hightops, white with gray stripes, are on his 
      feet, and tied around his forehead is an American flag bandana.

[Farmhouse, Upstairs]

Megan pages: You will probably hear a great deal of slamming and loud noises
      coming from upstairs.

Megan pages to Flash and Taslyn: There was a solid thump of what sounds like a
      body hitting the floor, Flash.

Taslyn passes by, thumping Flash in the shoulder. "Sorry." She grunts as her
      feet take her on down the steps.

Flash appears at the top of the stairs, having taken them two at a time. He
      gets knocked aside, thumping a shoulder into the wall, then says, "What 
      the fuckity?"

Flash, some moments after Taslyn's stormy exit, pokes his head through the open
      doorway, his blue eyes confused underneath the American flag bandana.

From afar, to Megan and Flash, Taslyn curses, "FUCK!" As she kicks the front
      door open, goes outside and runs face first into Olga.

Megan is curled up in a fetal position, both arms wrapped around her belly and
      in obvious pain. Her jaw is clenched so tightly it's a surprise that 
      teeth aren't breaking, and it may be all that's keeping her from making 
      any noises to give voice to the agony.

Flash's eyes widen in concern and shock. "Alpha?" Forgetting for the moment
      that he's the scum of the earth, he makes his way quickly toward her. 
      "Holy fuck, you a'right?"

Megan doesn't respond immediately, brow beaded with sweat and complexion pale
      even for one of Irish descent. She more whimpers out then says, "Fine," 
      and returns to concentrating on not crying out in pain or moving around 
      too much.

Flash's Adam's Apple bobs as the Stargazer swallows. He stops just outside of
      the Fianna's personal space and doesn't touch her. "Should I fetch her 
      back?" There's no hint of the jokester in him.

"No," the Fianna croaks out. That seems to be about as much as she can get out
      right now.

Flash's mouth thins, and he nods solemnly. "I'll be downstairs if you need me."
      He bows, hands clasped together, and backs up, withdrawing from the room 
      and giving the Adren privacy.

Megan doesn't reply, sucking in deep breaths through her nose, but if he's
      perceptive, he may notice that the episode seems to be waning in 
      intensity somewhat.

From afar, to the Farmhouse, Taslyn yells up, "I'm a damn sight better." And
      then follows it with, "Stupid shit."

Farmhouse: Hallway and Living Room

All doorways in the front part of the house lead to the front hallway, a
      J-shaped area with the short tail starting at the stairs, the front door 
      hitting the bottom curve, the doorless opening to the living room halfway 
      up the long side, and the also doorless opening to the kitchen and dining 
      room at the very top. The hall has a simple wooden floor, and decorated 
      with a generic print of soft-colored flowers hanging on the wall to the 
      right of the front door, and a tall table sitting under the print which 
      serves as a place to toss keys. A closet under the stairs serves as a 
      place to hang coats or to toss shoes.

The doorless opening to the living room is halfway up the side of the hall's J,
      and the word cozy might spring to mind when looking into is, as it seems 
      to radiate comforting vibrations. A long couch sits against the south 
      wall beneath a large bay window curtained only by sheers that manages to 
      obscure the view in but only filters the day's light. A variety of 
      out-of-date magazines are strewn atop a low coffee table; more neatly 
      presented are the plethora of books filling the small bookshelves which 
      line the eastern wall. Three chairs sit about the room, focused inward, 
      to allow group conversations. Large floor pillows are stacked in one 
      corner of the room, except one, which lies carelessly in the middle of 
      the floor, apparently left out the last time it was used.

An opening in the northern end of the hallway allows access to the kitchen and
      dining room at the back of the house, while carpeted stairs twist up at 
      the other end of the hall, leading to the second floor. A door at the 
      base of the J lets out to the front porch.

Megan has arrived.

This woman is rather attractive in an Amazonian kind of way. She looks to be in
      her mid-twenties, with thick auburn hair falling in heavy waves down her 
      back and around her shoulders. Frequent use has sculpted her 5'10" height 
      into a body of strong muscle-definition, long of limb and long of torso, 
      softened only by the definite feminine curves of full breasts and hips, 
      and the inward dip of her waist. Her features display character: fresh, 
      tanned skin stretched cleanly over the sharp edge of jaw, rounding at her 
      chin, across a wide brow and gently sloping cheekbones. Finely arched 
      eyebrows curve over expressive black-green emerald eyes, often found 
      narrowed with keen interest or dreamy in inward contemplation.

Tiny gold hoops encircle her earlobes, two on each side, the lower ones the
      size of a quarter, the upper no bigger than the end of a woman's pinkie, 
      while a diamond sparkles in a third hole to the right. Her faded 
      blue-denim jeans hold the tails of a cotton oxford designed with a 
      patchwork of patterns, the sleeves rolled up casually above her elbows to 
      emphasize her tanned arms, the neck open to permit circulation and a view 
      of her collarbone. Scuffed white keds shod her feet without socks. Check 
      '+detail Megan's info' for other things noticable.

Megan's progress down to the lower floor of the house is slow, the creaky,
      careful process of an old woman navigating the stairs than a young, 
      vibrant woman in her 20's. Her color is still the color of milk, and not 
      a healthy color at that, but she is upright and mobile.

Flash is standing in the middle of the living room, hands behind his back, his
      gaze shifting between the front door and the stairs. As Megan descends, 
      his eyes go to her, worried.

In the back of the house, Cutter slides his feet off the kitchen table,
      settling forward in his chair, carefully not smiling.

Alicia pushes open the doors and heads inside, stretching herself out for a few
      moments with a pop of her back. Her eyes roam over towards the occupants 
      in the room, then frowns as she spies Megan's state at the moment. ".. 
      Hey, Meg, you OK?"

Megan clutches at the nob of the newel post at the bottom of the stairs, eyes
      finding Alicia at the galliard's question. "No, but I'll live." She 
      notices Flash, and gives the Stargazer a brief, curt nod accompanied by 
      an appreciative look, before looking back to the galliard. "Taslyn just 
      sucker-punched me and my scar flared up, is all. I'll be right as rain 
      after I sit down for a while."

"...A regular snarl-fest," Flash murmurs. He hasn't noticed Cutter loitering in
      the kitchen.

"Taslyn hit you? Why? What is going on?" Alicia asks, concern filling her eyes
      as she moves over towards Megan, fingers wiggling a bit, looking to be 
      helpful. "You need me to get you anything to drink?"

Megan ignores Flash's murmured comment, it seems to respond to Alicia. "It's a
      tribe matter. Except, I need you, one of you," she says, glancing at 
      Flash, "to go down to Kent Crossing and call Signe for me, and Layne. A 
      drink would be welcome, though."

"Something strong or will water do?" Alicia asks she makes her way to the
      kitchen.

Flash snaps to attention and gives a perfect British Army salute. "Speak their
      numbers and it shall be done."

"Something strong," Megan answers the galliard, then adds a weak smile. "And
      thank you." She heads into the living room, reaching into a pocket where 
      she pulls out a battered mini-notepad, flipping through it until she 
      reaches a specific page. "Can you memorize it, or should I write it down?"

Flash grins. "I can recite the entire Revelation of St. John, a couple of phone
      numbers won't be a much-a-much. Hit me."

Opening up the freezer, Alicia rustles about the bags until she finds the Vodka
      she left behind on Easter. Pouring a glass, she makes her way back out 
      and hands it over.

Megan rattles off both numbers, having to flip pages to get the second one for
      Signe, then takes the vodka shot with a grateful, "Slainte," before 
      slamming it home. There's a brief hiss through her teeth as she takes a 
      breath after the drink, then puts the glass aside.

In the back of the house, Cutter scoots his chair slightly to one side to allow
      Alicia easy access to the fridge.

"So, what scar of yours flared up?" Alicia asks as she pulls up a seat next to
      her, brows furrowing slightly as she looks the Adren over.

Flash snaps off another salute -- a Rimmer salute this time -- clicks his heels
      together, and goes charging out the back door to get his bike and on his 
      way. He waves to Cutter in passing.

(...)

You paged Signe and Layne with 'Okay! Hi! I've just now been sent biking to
      Kent Crossing to call each of you and get you to come urgently as 
      possible down to the farmhouse. There's been a tiff between Megan and 
      Taslyn. No real details known.'.

(...)

In the front rooms, Megan is settled in an easy chair in the living room, and
      answers a question posed to her by Alicia. "Stomach. Many years ago, when 
      I was barely more than a cub, I had a packmate that joined the Wyrm," she 
      says flatly. "We had violated the Litany. My punishment was to hunt her 
      down. I did. But she left me with this." She makes a motion to her 
      stomach. "At least, it started after that. Every once in a while, I get a 
      burning pain that the gift to resist it won't work against, and I can't 
      act for a short amount of time. It hurts like a son of a bitch, like 
      being on the brink of dying."

In the front rooms, Alicia wrinkles her brow at the tale and then glances over
      towards Olga as she makes her way in. "Hey Olga." She says, lifting up 
      her hand and wiggling the fingers. "Whats up? You look wet."

In the front rooms, Olga skids to a stop and backtracks a few steps when Alicia
      calls her name. She looks distracted and busy, and she answers with a 
      vague shrug, and an explanation of "Rain, yeah. Hi, Ali. Uh, 
      Alicia-rhya," she corrects, with a glance at Megan. "Megan-rhya. 'Scuse 
      me." She ducks away from the door and moves to once more attempt to bound 
      up the stairs.

In the front rooms, Megan doesn't stop Olga in her bounding, only looks at her
      curiously and with mild suspicion, a vague nod of greeting.

In the front rooms, Alicia watches the Gnawer run up the stairs and tilts her
      head slightly, then glances over towards Megan curiously. She pauses for 
      a moment, then lets out a breath. "So, what happened? Why did you two get 
      into a fight for?"

In the front rooms, Layne enters on the tail-end of Megan's answer to Alicia,
      slipping into the living room by way of the kitchen, and turns eyes 
      pointedly to the elder Philodox, brows arched. "Hi. Something's up?" The 
      others get a distracted glance, before eyes snap back to the Alpha, arms 
      snaking over her chest.

In the front rooms, Signe's entrance comes on the heels of Layne's, though she
      comes in from the front door. The Get's mood is obviously sour, already, 
      and the door is closed with authority.

In the front rooms, Megan looks confused at Alicia's question, then explains
      again, "She was of the Wyrm. I had to kill her."

In the front rooms, Olga's footsteps pound against the stairs and wind there
      way through the upstairs hallway. There's a loud creak as Taslyn's door 
      opens, and the Gnawer enters her room.

In the front rooms, Alicia shakes her head. "No.. no, you and... Tas." She
      says, distracted by Layne's voice as she looks to the Half Moon."

In the front rooms, "I told you, it's tribe business," Megan repeats, not
      unkindly, but a trifle curtly. She then looks over as Layne arrives, and 
      pushes back to her feet, the drink and the rest appearing have restored 
      her somewhat. "Yes. We need to talk." Her mouth moves, then she looks 
      over at Signe, and Alicia. "I need to talk to both of you. Alicia...as a 
      follow of Stag, you can listen in, but the discussion is to remain 
      between the four of us. Okay?"

Flash bangs open the back door, looking sweaty and somewhat out of breath from
      his imitation of a Strider on a bicycle. He waves to Cutter again, 
      grinning wanly at the Shadow Lord, and peeks into the front rooms in time 
      to see that Layne and Signe have, indeed, arrived.

In the front rooms, Karl steps in from the porch, closing the front door behind
      him.

In the front rooms, Layne's lips pull down at the corners at that, but she nods
      sharply to Megan, and awaits her lead. "A'right." Signe gets a curious 
      glance.

In the front rooms, Taslyn steps in from the porch, closing the front door
      behind her.

In the front rooms, Olga comes tumbling back down the stairs a moment later, at
      a brisk but easy pace, heading for the front door. She passes Flash a 
      quick look as he moves through the hallway, but beyond him doesn't notice 
      any of the new arrivals, instead moving straight to the front door.

Cutter leans back and nods to Flash.

In the front rooms, Alicia nods her head and pushes herself up from her seat,
      brushing down her pants slightly.

In the front rooms, Signe's mood seems to grow even worse, her gaze falling
      hard on Megan for a moment. She offers no protest, however, and simply 
      follows the others.

Flash drops himself into a chair and pulls off his bandana in order to wipe his
      sweaty face with it. "Holy crap. Hey, Frankie, how is?"

Cutter smirks. "Long walk, huh? Looks like you found them--they beat you back
      here."

In the front rooms, Karl leaves through the front door. You can hear the screen
      door swing shut again with a clatter.

In the front rooms, Taslyn opens the door and looks straight at the floor.
      "Just want my box." As she sees Olga coming from upstairs, she reaches a 
      hand out for it. "I'll be going." Her face tries to not make contact with 
      Megan.

In the front rooms, Megan, on her way towards the stairs, stops as she spies
      Taslyn sticking her head into the door. Her expression sets into a deep 
      scowl, but she's at least in control of herself. "No. You won't. Unless 
      you're going to defy me for a second time tonight. Come with us."

"Long /bike/," Flash says, half-distracted by the goings-on in the front rooms.
      "Actually, didn't even /get/ Signe, but looks like she got here all right 
      by herself anyway."

Cutter nods, not speaking, also watching the living room quietly.

In the front rooms, Olga comes to a quick stop as Taslyn enters, and at her
      request she starts to dig into her jacket, until Megan speaks. The Gnawer 
      then stands awkwardly in the doorway, looking uneasily around at all the 
      stern faces for the first time. Seeing her Alpha there she smiles quickly 
      and thinly, and then steps off towards the front door like a thief 
      fleeing the scene of a crime, trying to be inconspicuous.

In the front rooms, Layne's eyes linger on her packmate, who gets a wan smile
      in the light of current events, before her gaze cuts toward Taslyn. She 
      eyes the other Philodox studiously.

In the front rooms, Alicia glances over to Taslyn as she enters the farmhouse
      and slowly folds her arms about her chest. She shifts her weight, waiting 
      at the foot of the stairs near Megan's side.

In the front rooms, Taslyn then turns and looks at Megan, "Excuse me, Rhya. But
      I would rather not revisit my life at my old sept. Thought this place was 
      different. I guess I was wrong. I believed I could be myself." She wipes 
      a hand through soaked hair. "Please, Olga... My box." She holds out a 
      hand for the hand carved box. "I will stay if you wish... But I will not 
      be made to feel as if I have done anything wrong."

Flash watches the drama as well, wiping at his neck as he does so.

In the front rooms, Megan grits her teeth hard. "You will stay, and you will
      listen to what we have to say. Upstairs," she says with a note of utter 
      confidence in her authority. "Now."

Dale comes in through the back door of the farmhouse and proceeds without
      preamble into the kitchen.

In the front rooms, Signe waits to see what the young Fianna does after Megan's
      words before she, too, heads upstairs.

Cutter leans back, sees Dale, and lifts a finger to his lips.


In the front rooms, Olga's fingers tick nervously against the item hidden
      inside her coat, and while her face shows some conflict it's also pretty 
      much decided. "I'll be waiting for you, Tas," she offers the woman 
      apologetically.

In the front rooms, "Who is we?" Taslyn stays where she is. "I have been put on
      trial before... I will not have it happen again." It is extremely hard 
      for Tas to do anything more than just speak.

Flash glances up at the Get, nods amiably, and then re-ties the flag bandana
      around his forehead. The Gazer has caught his breath, but the sweat's 
      still cooling.

In the front rooms, "Tas, its just a talk." Alicia assures as she lets out a
      soft breath, heading up after Signe, half lidding her eyes.

In the front rooms, Megan's jaw sets again, and as if biting off her words,
      "Taslyn, you are perilously close to being killed where you stand again. 
      You *will* come upstairs with us. You will submit to your elders. Or I 
      will declare punishment on you right here and now *without* benefit of 
      the discussion beforehand. Your choice."

In the front rooms, Layne frowns deeply, and bites her tongue, making her way
      to the stairs.

In the front rooms, Taslyn runs a hand through her hair and looks to Olga.
      "Thank you." As she walks up the stairs, clearly just barely hanging onto 
      what little bit of calm she has right now.

In the front rooms, Taslyn mounts the stairs, pausing briefly at the landing
      before continuing up to the second floor.
In the front rooms, Alicia mounts the stairs, pausing briefly at the landing
      before continuing up to the second floor.
In the front rooms, Layne mounts the stairs, pausing briefly at the landing
      before continuing up to the second floor.
In the front rooms, Signe mounts the stairs, pausing briefly at the landing
      before continuing up to the second floor.
In the front rooms, Megan follows up after Taslyn and the others.
In the front rooms, Megan mounts the stairs, pausing briefly at the landing
      before continuing up to the second floor.

Sly walks in from the woods out back, heading in though the kitchen and dining
      room, silently. He's looking for someone, obviously. He looks pale, and a 
      jacket is draped over his shoulder.

In the front rooms, Sly staggers into the living room, leaning his left side
      against the wall. A jacket is draped over his right should, his arm 
      hanging limply. He sighs, eyes glancing over Olga. He heads for the 
      stairs, looking unsteady on his feet.

Cutter shakes his head quietly. "Damn. Soap opera central, and it's all getting
      taken upstairs," he murmurs.

Flash's eyes follow the pale cub, his expression vaguely smirky but otherwise
      revealing little. "Yeah," he responds to Cutter. "Sucks, don't it? But 
      maybe there'll be more."

In the front rooms, Olga emits an audible sound of relief once the Elders have
      departed up the stairs, something between a sigh and a grunt. She passes 
      Sly a curious look, peering at him as if trying to put a name to a face, 
      and then turns to go outside. As she hears footsteps approach the stairs, 
      however, she turns, and waves him. "Don't go up there," she instructs the 
      cub bluntly, before turning again to leave.

In the front rooms, Sly whimpers softly at her order. Turning towards her some,
      looking even paler than he had a moment ago. "I-infirmary." His voice is 
      low and rasping. In the silence after it, there is a sound of a drop of 
      liquid hitting the floor.

Cutter glances at Flash, as if approving of the sudden truth of his words, and
      rises to his feet.

In the front rooms, Olga turns once again with an exasperated grunt, giving Sly
      a slow, stern shake of her head which makes her opposition to his request 
      quite clear. "Come with me," she instructs him, turning once again to the 
      door, hoping very much to actually reach it this time.

In the front rooms, Dale's eyes follow the exodus upstairs, particularly
      Signe's departure, and he breathes a tense sigh before turning and 
      heading back into the kitchen and dining room area.

Cutter shrugs as Olga leads Sly away and returns to his seat. "Not needed," he
      tells Flash.

Flash blows air out through his lips in a disappointed 'pbbbt' of disgust and
      slouches in his chair. "Boo wah. Looks like someone mauled the kid. And 
      five bucks says Taslyn gets smacked around."

Cutter says "Dude. After that performance, she's lucky she's still alive." He
      shakes his head sadly. "Megan's getting soft in her old age."

Dale pauses in the doorway and lets his eyes focus on Flash. "You," he mutters,
      low and full of distaste. "I have a bone to pick with you."

Flash tips his chair back and props his feet up on the table, muddy sneakers
      and all. "Man, there's a /lot/ of softies in this Sept. I mean, I've been 
      here how many months and /nobody's/--" He breaks off, blinking curious 
      blue eyes at Dale. "Me?"

Cutter smirks. "Speak of the devil. I think the gentleman's here to get hard on
      you."

"You," Dale repeats, with even less patience, and narrowed eyes; he's not
      buying the affected guilelessness. "At moot, last week. I was speaking 
      with Owen and Jamethon; they were asking after the fetish-weapon I had. 
      You seemed mighty interested in it, asking a lot of questions."

Flash shrugs and plucks at his sweat-stained t-shirt. Which says, interestingly
      enough, "Lie like you mean it," in black letters on gray background. 
      "...Yeah, well, it's not often you see a weapon fetish in the hands of a 
      Cliath. Or a Fianna fetish in the hands of a Get." He smiles crookedly. 
      "And a Fianna weapon fetish in the hands of a Cliath Get? Yeah, I got 
      nosy. Why d'you ask?"

Cutter wisely falls silent and goes back to 'watching the carnage' mode.

Dale takes a step closer to Flash, his left hand curling into a fist. "Because
      a few days after the moot that fetish mysteriously disappeared," he says 
      -- and the words are basically an accusation. "Stolen. And somebody who 
      was nosy about it, and yapping the way you were yapping, seems like the 
      kind of person who might be inclined to lift it."

Flash blinks, looking honestly surprised. He swings his feet down from the
      table and grounds his chair to all fours with a thump. "Whoa," he says, 
      losing the smirky 'tude. "You think I stole your axe?"

Dale answers question with question: "Did you?" Now his right hand is curling
      into a fist.

Desiree takes a step into the house from the back door, opening up the sliding
      glass as she sees a few already in the farmhouse. "H'lo," she offers, 
      unaware of what politics are being argued or what have you.

Flash smiles wryly and, cocking his head to the side, shows the Get of Fenris
      his throat. "I would never do something so stupid, Burns-the-Wyrm-rhya." 
      He seems perfectly sincere.

"Right," says Dale; his hands loosen, and he slides them into his jacket
      pockets. "So, in front of a Forseti, you're willing to swear that you 
      didn't take my fetish from my home, then?"

Desiree closes the door to the house softly behind her as she seems to not to
      catch the Fenrir's and Stargazer's notice right at first. The woman 
      travels towards the fridge to read the notes on the door, searching to 
      see if one might have been placed there for her.

The sliding glass door is opened a moment after James steps out
      of the darkness, seen only by the light coming from within. Stepping 
      inside James first notices the slight confrontation of Dale and Flash, 
      before noticing Desiree. All those within mentally taken account for, he 
      turns to close the slider behind him. Standing silently for now, he just 
      watches and waits."

Flash glances over at the new arrivals and then looks back up at the standing
      Get Ahroun. He shrugs. "Yeah, sure. I'll go in front of whatever halfmoon 
      you want."

"Yes," Dale says, nodding. "Yes, you will. And if you've lied to me, God help
      you." His eyes flick away from Flash, then, and focus briefly first on 
      Desiree, and then on Jamethon; he gives both a wordless nod by way of 
      greeting.

Desiree flickers her gaze towards Dale and Flash for a moment before she peeks
      inside of the fridge and graps out a juice box from one of the shelves 
      and meanders to the kitchen table where she sinks into one of the chairs.

Jamethon returns the nod to Dale as the ahroun gazes towards him. His looking
      at Flash right after, seems only annoyed he hears the tale end of 
      accusations being levered at the Stargazer. "Am I inturupting anything?"

Flash just smiles at Dale's threat in a vaguely insufferable sort of way. "God
      help me, right."

Dale, disgusted, shakes his head one last time and turns away. "Nah," he
      answers Jamethon, quietly, and then makes his way toward the stairs.

Cutter lifts a hand belatedly and waves. "Bye now."

Flash stretches his mouth open in a wide, face-splitting yawn and stretches.
      "Whee."

Jamethon eyes Flash for moments longer, and with not so much as even a
      dismissive gesture or look, turns his attentions to Cutter. "Cutter-yuf." 
      His expression turns somewhat more jovial as he greets the one he 
      recently challenged.

Cutter leans back and smiles. "Hey there. You missed almost all the excitement.
      It was vaguely exciting, but then everybody went upstairs."

Jamethon seems a bit confused at this, as he glances over to where Dale just
      headed. "Everybody?... Everybody who?"

Desiree remains quiet with her eyes downcasted as she has a tough time placing
      a straw into a small whole of the juice box. She mutters something in 
      Salish before she is about to give it all up and just head back to the 
      bluff to get some other work done.

Flash gets up from his chair and saunters his recently-sweated-up self over to
      the fridge in order to gulp down some orange juice from the carton; he 
      tips Desiree a wink on his way past.

Cutter nods toward the main room. "The Alpha. A few packmates. Olga. Signe. Uh.
      That new Coggie cub. And of course Dale and our friend Sammy here."

Jamethon suddenly jerks his head up to Desiree, a slight look of surprise on
      his features that disappears just as quickly as she mutters words in the 
      Native language. He just shakes his head after that and after nodded to 
      Cutter's answer, looks over to Flash, "And what reason have you given 
      Dale to kill you today, Gazer?"

Flash swallows and wipes his mouth on his arm. "He thinks I stole his fetish,"
      he says, shrugging.

Jamethon responds with a sigh to Flash's answer and asks almost with precise
      casual tone, "Well, did you?"

Desiree growls and gets up from the table, annoyed with putting too much
      fustration into a single juice box. Placing the juice box box back into 
      the fridge, she heads back out the back door.

Flash shrugs again. "Why would I? What am I gonna do with a flaming axe?"
      Hip-bumping the fridge closed, he leans against the counter and 
      swallowing some more juice from the carton. "I mean, do I /look/ like a 
      fighter?"

Jamethon suddenly opens his mouth, first at Cutter's words then even wider at
      Flashes... he seems to think better of actually speaking however, as he 
      turns towards the living room. "Then, Looks-Nothing-Like-A-Fighter... I 
      do hope the axe is found elsewhere. I go to meet with my alpha."

Flash raises eyebrows, then shrugs and continues to drink his juice.

In the front rooms, Jamethon mounts the stairs, pausing briefly at the landing
      before continuing up to the second floor.

Cutter makes a face. "Guess we bored them. Not enough bloodshed and drama."

Flash tips the carton up and back, draining it to the last drop, his Adam's
      apple bobbling. Then he goes 'ahh' and wipes his mouth. "Well, yanno. 
      Fox. It ain't /about/ the bloodshed and drama, right?"

Cutter shrugs. "Not like I'm a big fan of either of those knobs, so boring them
      off isn't exactly breaking my heart. Comprendez-pas?"

"Si, sen-yore," Flash replies, sounding like Speedy Gonzales.

Cutter reaches back with both arms, stretching langourously. "I haven't heard a
      single explosion or even a satisfying thump from upstairs. What's up with 
      that?"

Flash considers the empty carton, then pitches it toward the trash. Two points.
      "In a way, isn't that a little /more/ full of forboding?"

Cutter says "I'm not up on foreboding. I just want to know what the hell's
      going on. I mean, there's not even a lonely trickle of blood down the 
      stairs."

Flash sucks on his teeth. "Hmm, well." He folds his arms and considers. "I
      /could/ sneak up there and listen in at the door..."

Cutter cocks his head. "Dale's up there. I don't want to cause you more trouble
      than you're ready for tonight."

Flash considers that, head slightly cocked and eyes half-lidded. "Hmmm. ...Nah.
      Had enough excitement tonight." He saunters back to the kitchen table and 
      slouches into a chair.

Cutter nods lazily. "Thinking the same thing myself. Gonna plant a recording
      bug on the ceiling under the infirmary and then go home to bed."

Cutter then sets action to the word, and stands up. "G'night. We should plan to
      force Lucky to join our pack and then Quest as soon as possible."

Flash smiles lazily and tips off a wave to the Shadow Lord. "You bet."

(...)

Flash is stretched out on the couch with a copy of a thick graphic novel called
      _Watchmen_. He's keeping an eye on the stairs.

Alicia makes her way down the stairs, looking furious, fists squeezed together,
      her face red. She darts her eyes about for a moment, then makes her way 
      for the kitchen.

Flash's eyebrows rise. He closes the book, using a finger to hold his place,
      and asks, casually, "Problem?"

"I'd take off and hide if I were you." Alicia fires off to the StarGazer. "I
      hope to Gaia you don't got Dale's axe, cuz I can very well guarantee that 
      you are a dead man if you do." She says, jerking open the fridge, hunting 
      for something to grab on to. "I'm sure Signe and Dale, both /very pissed 
      off/, will be coming down those stairs any moment and guess who is high 
      on their shit list?"

Taslyn comes down the stairs.

Alicia goes through the aperture at the northern end of the front hallway to
      enter the back room of the house.

Taslyn walks by, not even looking at the others, backpack on and headed for the
      door.

Taslyn leaves through the front door. You can hear the screen door swing shut
      again with a clatter.

Flash wrinkles his nose, then shrugs and opens the book again. "So much for
      getting a 'Forseti', huh?" he says, mostly to himself.

In the back of the house, Alicia takes out a bottle from the fridge and twists
      off the cap, staring at the contents for a moment. Instead, she throws 
      the bottle hard at the sink, shattering the glass and spilling the 
      contents about in a mess. Seething, she grits her teeth and then pushes 
      out the back door.

In the back of the house, Alicia slides open the door in the kitchen, passing
      through into the back yard.

Dale returns to the downstairs half of the farmhouse in a decidedly more sour
      mood -- and when he catches sight of Flash, his expression goes even 
      further south. He stalks over toward the Stargazer.

Flash is stretched out on the couch with a copy of _Watchmen_. He glances up
      from the rantings of Rorschach and the musings of Dr. Manhatten to blink 
      mildly at Dale.

Dale's form is already gathering size and mass, though Dedicated clothes
      accomodate the near-man shape's bulk. He makes a move to pluck Flash off 
      the sofa by the collar.

"Oh hey hey hey," Flash starts to say, squirming backwards, "no shifting
      allowed in the--glurk!" The protest is cut off as the Get grasps him 
      firmly by the collar of his t-shirt and lifts. The thick graphic novel 
      hits the floor with a thump, pages bent.

Dale will endeavor to hold Flash so that the Stargazer's face is inches away
      from his own. "If you had a hand in this," he warns, the near-man form 
      turning the words guttural, "tell me now, and return to me what you 
      stole. Because if I find out later that you're involved in any way, I 
      will kill you. But not before I kill your friends. Your Kinfolk. Your pet 
      dog. Anybody you care about. Understand me?"

Flash's muddy blue eyes are wide. He looks astonished. And then he begins to
      laugh... a titter at first, and then a giggle, and then pretty soon he's 
      hooting breathlessly with glee. Coyote himself couldn't top the 
      Ragabash's attack of hilarity.

Dale attempts to cut short the no-moon's laughter by trying to wrap one meaty
      hand about Flash's throat, and squeezing. "Do you understand me?" he 
      repeats, very slowly, as if he's speaking to a retarded child.

Breathless laughter turns to breathless choking noises. Flash flails, digging
      at the Get's hairy sausage fingers, and manages in a thin wheeze, 
      "...don't...have... axe..."

"Did you take it?" Dale relents just a little, just enough for Flash to gasp a
      half-breath beneath the pressure of his fingers. "DID. YOU. TAKE. IT?"

Flash's face has turned a nice shade of red, and despite the fact that he's
      close to having the life choked out of him, it seems that he can't quite 
      keep from grinning, and the crazed little giggles aren't far out of 
      reach. "Wanted to borrow your Playboys. Figured you wouldn't mind. And 
      there it was."

A slight tremble comes to Dale's hand, the one curled around Flash's throat.
      The Fenrir drags the Stargazer up against one of the walls of the living 
      room and holds him there. "Tell me what you did with it." It's effort, 
      but he manages to make those words sound more like an offer than a threat.

Flash's hands clutch the thick wrist that's at his throat. He isn't struggling
      anymore, though, apart from sneakered feet trying to get a purchase on 
      the floor that's just out of reach. His eyes meet Dale's, slightly crazed 
      and completely unrepentant. "Sold it to a man in a yellow hat?" The 
      skinny bastard is making /jokes/.

Dale's lips flicker with a smile, but the expression is very far from amused.
      "Tell me what you did with it," he repeats, and even as he keeps Flash 
      pinned to the wall with his one hand/arm, he'll bring up the other to 
      wrap around the Stargazer's ear.

Flash giggles like Ed the Hyena under the paw of a pissed-off King Mufasa.
      "Um... pawned it for the complete set of Space Ninety-nintey-nine DVDs?"

"Try again," encourages Dale, and the grip of his fingers around Flash's ear
      tightens painfully. A little more effort on the Fenrir's part might begin 
      to seperate cartilage from skull.

Flash squirms, his teeth bared in a way that's as much grimace as grin, and his
      hands tighten white-knuckled around the thick Glabro wrist, and the Get 
      can feel the Gazer's throat work as he swallows. "Or maybe I, uh... 
      heh... heh-eh-eh... took it to Boston." He giggles again.

That, apparently, is sufficient confession for Dale to deactivate his Ahroun's
      Truth of Gaia: he releases both Flash's ear and throat, allowing the 
      Stargazer to drop to the floor. "I promised you I wouldn't kill you if 
      you told me the truth. I stand by that. But I will be bringing this to 
      the Forseti, and demanding satisfaction. You'd better start figuring out 
      a way to get it back from Boston, or to replace it somehow."

Flash's sneakers hit the floor, and were it not for the wall, the gangly
      Ragabash would probably have fallen into a graceless heap. "Forseti my 
      betty," is his nonsensical reply, as he folds his arms over his sunken 
      chest and tucks his hands into his armpits. The manic fool's grin 
      continues to stretch across his face.

"That shit isn't going to fly," Dale warns, his lips beginning to curve in a
      smile. "You knew exactly what you were doing. No casual thief would've 
      found it without trashing the place, much less taken it without stealing 
      any other valuables." As he straightens, his body drops bulk, and he 
      reverts to his breed-form. "Don't think to run, either. No matter where 
      you go, I'll find you." And this said, he turns, and begins to head for 
      the door.

"I'll be right here, sexy," Flash calls out at the departing Get, quite
      cheerfully.