Sally Throws a Snowball

[hazlogs]

[1/26/98]
[Harbor Park Fountain]
[New moon]

The area where the fountain was, and presumably the new fountain will be, is 
  now totally enclosed by high plywood walls. There is a door in one of the 
  walls, firmly locked with a padlock. The walls enclose much of the flagstone 
  area, now, only leaving a little around the edges of the old courtyard. To 
  one side, some ground is being leveled for further improvements. Healthy 
  green hedges line one side of the courtyard, just behind some 
  graffiti-covered benches.
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. The park extends to 
  the south.

Kathryn is sitting by the borded-up fountain, playing her flute quietly. The 
  music is low, mournful and full of sorrow. A look of hope is on her face, 
  although not in the melody.

Salem stalks through the park like an aimless tiger, hands buried deep into 
  his coat pockets. He pauses, turning toward the source of the music, and 
  stops to listen from a distance.

Kathryn's music continues, as she is lost in a world of her own making. Her 
  music tells of loss, pain, and sorrow.

Cutter leans against the gate at the park's edge and glances quickly around 
  the fountain area. Casual drive-by patrolling. Walk-by. Whatever.

Morgan trundles her way up from the south meadows of Harbor Park, near the 
  river. She shrugs her coat tighter around her form.

Salem continues to stand a good distance away from kathryn, just close enough 
  to listen to the woman's flute playing. His face is solemn, cold, saturnine 
  as it always seems to be.

Kathryn, still lost in the music, finally brings the melody to a close, and 
  places the flute on her lap. She appears to be whispering something under 
  her breath, and does not look up.

Salem brings his hands from his pockets and claps lightly, though he still 
  doesn't smile.

Morgan glances around the park and takes stock of Salem's position especially. 
  She just offers the man a quick nod of her head to him. Then her attention 
  flickers back to Kathryn.

Kathryn's head jerks up at the sound of the clapping, and her eyes widen in 
  shock as she realises she has an audience. Kath's face darkens as she 
  recognises Salem, and she lets out a sigh as she notices Morgan.

Piddles pads through the snow in his bare feet, whistling a merry, if 
  unidentifiable tune. His trenchcoat is gathered around him and his wool ski 
  cap is tugged down over his bald head.

Salem's mild applause vanishes as Kathryn turns to look at him. Ungloved hands 
  slip back into his coat, and his shoulders move in a careless shrug, though 
  his face tightens considerably. Only belatedly does the dark man notice 
  Morgan, and he dips his head to her, once.

Cutter quietly watches form his vantage point at the gate, frowning 
  uncertainly.

[Piddles]
A mix and match of different races, Pid appears to be primarily Hispanic and 
  African-American, with a detectable touch of just about every other ethnic 
  type on Earth. His head is shaved bald, his beard is trimmed neatly to a 
  pseudo-Egyptian rectangle that sticks off the end of his chin. His left ear 
  is torn, evidently in a fight, and he has a plethora of other small scars 
  showing along his arms, hands, and face. He is possessed of knotty muscles 
  that stretch his skin and veins to their bulging extent. His face and arms 
  are covered with broad pink and white healing burns, apparently weeks old.
Pid's wearing torn jeans that are too small for him, covered with cribbed 
  notes in various colors of ink that upon inspection are a number of 
  Shakespearian phrases and terms, often with definitions scrawled in next to 
  them, and a baggy sweatshirt that may have once read "Kiss Me, I'm Irish." 
  Over all, he affects a dingy gray trenchcoat that smells a bit like smoke. 
  He wears no shoes on his gnarled and calloused feet. A thin, dogeared 
  paperback is folded in his back pocket. The side of the coffee-stained cover 
  that shows to the world reads, "SHAKES" and under that, "Othel."
Somewhere, he has acquired a battered set of gold (tinged with green verdigris 
  where the gilt has scratched off) wire-rimmed glasses which are missing both 
  lenses. He often peers over the top edge, considering people in a manner he 
  obviously thinks to be urbane and scholastic.

Morgan, wanting nothing to do with the charach, heads over toward the 
  tribeless Garou. It's debateable which one Morgan finds more unpalettable. 
  "Hey," she mutters, eyeing the man. Piddles gets a nod of recognition, as 
  she finally picks him up from her peripheral vision.

Piddles pauses and looks around, recognizing most of the inhabitants. He grins 
  hugely at Morgan in response to her nod.

"Good--" Salem pauses. "Afternoon, Morgan." The cultured voice is even-toned 
  and cordial. With the moon near it's lowest ebb, the Ahroun seems... no, not 
  calm exactly, but far more controlled than usual. "How goes it?"

Piddles listens, ears nearly perking even in homid, and starts to analyze the 
  snow on the ground, pacing around the park carefully.

Morgan arches one eyebrow at Salem, surprised perhaps at Salem's cordial tone. 
  Maybe she was expecting something else. "Well. Things seem quiet today." She 
  glances back at the Fianna Litany breaker and then smirks at Salem, her lips 
  pursed in mild bemusement or perhaps a gentle scorn.

Cutter leans against the gate, preparing himself for a stay. He reaches 
  absently into a pocket, frowns in annoyance and pulls it back out.

Kathryn looks back the the fountain, and trails a finger over the boards. She 
  turns, noticing Cutter at the gate., and seems to recognise him. "Cutter, 
  that you?" Her voice is thick with her Southern Irish accent, soft and 
  lyrical.

Salem follows Morgan's glance toward Kathryn, and then gives the Black Fury a 
  quizzical look.

Cutter lifts his head and studies the park. Then he pushes off the gate and 
  moves down the path.

Morgan's response is one word: "Charach." She says it quietly, lifting her 
  chin toward the Fianna. Her hands slide from her pockets and she flexes her 
  fingers, snuggly wrapped in her gloves.

Piddles studiously circles one broad, bare patch, then pauses, considering it.

Salem's eyes narrow, his gaze shifting back toward Kathryn, expression 
  sharpening into distaste. "Mmf."

Kathryn ignores Morgan's jibe, and it is unclear if she even heard it. Her 
  brow furrows as she looks towards Cutter again. "Richard?" Kathryn looks 
  confused. "If that be you, you've changed some."

Cutter finally gets a visual on the source of his confusion. "Spooky?"

Morgan nods, aftering snorting toward the Fianna, and she gives a quick look 
  towards the river. "Salem? Take a short walk with me?" It's phrased as a 
  request, but it doesn't exactly sound like one.

Piddles takes off his trenchcoat and carefully folds it and sets it down on a 
  bit of sidewalk.

Kathryn pulls a face. "I told you not to call me that. I'm getting better. I 
  don't throw things at walls anymore, I just shout at them now. What you 
  doing all the way out here? Haven't seen you in ages." Her face breaks into 
  a brief smile, which disappears quickly as she realises the company she is 
  with. "Never thought I'd see you again."

Salem murmurs, "Of course," to Morgan, his expression smoothing again, back 
  into a tightly controlled facade of neutrality.

With every step toward the fountain, Cutter seems to throw on a magnitude of 
  fury. "You can tell her to go fuck heself, because I'm *not* going back 
  there! I don't care how you found me, but as far as I'm concerned she 
  doesn't even /exist/ anymore!" He pauses for a breath. "Am I crystal clear?"

Piddles takes a long step into the center of the patch and lies down flat on 
  his back. He begins flailing his arms and legs back and forth.

Morgan's head whirls around to stare at Cutter, and then her nose wrinkles in 
  open distaste. "Fucking crazies," she grumbles under her breath. Her posture 
  tenses for a second, and then she turns her back on the fountain and walks 
  towards the river bank.

Salem offers up no comment, but stalks along at Morgan's side like a 
  bloodthirsty Doberman on a short leash.

Kathryn blinks in surprise. "Rich, I'm not here to take you back, Larissa never 
  sent me to drag you back there. I came here off my own bat. Why'd you think 
  I'm trying to take you back east? I think the Gnawers'd send someone a 
  little more experienced than I, don't you?"

Piddles stops after several repetitions of these gyrations. He rolls over 
  carefully and hops up to his feet in the center. He grins and dusts the snow 
  off his clothes, having effectively made his very first snow angel ever.

Cutter pulls back, his anger put into a cross body check by his confusion. 
  Calmed, but not placated, he chews his lip. "Then... why /are/ ya here?" he 
  asks quietly, rocking on his heels.

Once the Ronin and the Fury alpha have paced off enough distance to keep their 
  conversation private from the rest of the world, she turns her 
  ever-measuring eyes back toward Kathryn and her nutso friend, before she 
  addresses Salem in hushed tones. "These leeches we talked about from 
  before... the Sabbat, you called them... do you know where they like to 
  lair?"

Kathryn glances around, and motions Cutter forward. "Remember those after me, 
  when I changed?" Kath's face is apprehensive, and she obviously does *not* 
  want to talk about this. "*She* tried again. And again."

Piddles hops out of his day's accomplishment and retrieve his trenchcoat 
  carefully, unfolding it and pulling it back on.

Salem frowns, tension slipping through the cracks of his mask, eyes narrowing. 
  "Could be anywhere," he replies, keeping his voice lowered. "They're... very 
  adaptable."

Cutter nods. "Okay. Why *here*?" He doesn't seem upset, merely confused and 
  still a bit suspicious.

Morgan devotes her full attention to Salem now, her lips drooping in an uneasy 
  frown. "I figure if the leeches really are moving back into town, then we 
  should figure out just what the hell we're dealing with. It's easier to kill 
  roaches if you can find their nest." She crosses her arms, looking 
  undaunted. "I was hoping you might be able to help us track them."

Kathryn shrugs. "Why not, Richard? This place seemed as good as any. Far 
  enough away from New York, but not too far so I can not visit. Not that I'd 
  tell I found you, if you want to stay lost. I know how it is to run."

Salem folds his own arms across his chest, his gaze shifting away from the 
  Fury, growing narrow and distant. "Someplace private. Defendable. Hidden. 
  Away from prying eyes. Whether it's in the sewers or some uptown estate 
  depends on their resources." He grunts. "Some of the bastards are as rich as 
  Fangs."

Cutter shrugs savagely, but no longer seems besieged. "Fuck her. She wants 
  t'know where I am, that's her life. I changed my name, changed my home. I 
  live here now, an' if she wants t'come an' be a *guest* then she's welcome 
  to it."

Morgan gives a disapproving grunt. "I see," she says, studying Salem's face, 
  trying to read his emotions. "I don't like the prospect of having a bunch of 
  bloodsuckers running around in this city much. You said they run in packs?" 
  She sounds almost dubious.

Salem moves his eyes back to Morgan. "Yes," he says, tones clipped. "And they 
  have a heirarchy of dominance as well, plus blood rituals that bind them 
  together in loyalty."

A black standard poodle in full show cut, though not exactly poofed and 
  painted, trots up the path, snuffling at the ground.

The cloud around the Fury's face and attitude darkens as Salem speaks. "We're 
  going to have to move fast then, before they get themselves established 
  anywhere." Morgan stuffs her hands in her coat. "If they get dug in, it'll 
  be a bitch to burn them out."

Kathryn sighs. "Well, if that be the way you think, then I have no problem 
  with it. Erika was worried when you left, I think. But she hid it well. I 
  just think that I'll be safe enough here. As will the Sept back home. We 
  kinda picked the same place. Coincidence?"

Piddles looks up and his jaw drops. He starts across the park slowly, watching 
  the poodle warily out of the corner of his eye.

Salem grins slightly, lips parting to partially show his teeth; there's no 
  humor in his eyes. "They train themselves not to fear fire, you know," he 
  murmurs.

Cutter rolls his shoulders. "Yeah. Guess so." he says reluctantly. "An' don't 
  think Erika the Bitch was worried. She was tryin' t'hide her relief that her 
  dirty little piece of evidence finally blew town. Since it wouldn't just 
  die."

Morgan's nose wrinkles again as her face contorts into a feral looking 
  grimace. "That's fine with me," the Fury says in a low, emotional voice. "I 
  figure eviscerating a leech will work just as well."

Kathryn bows her head. "She'll have had her reasons, Richard. She'll have had 
  her reasons." Kathryn runs a hand through her hair, and straightens. 
  "Anyhow, how be ye, then? I haven't seen ye in a while, an' was wondering 
  how you were getting on?"

The poodle catches a glimpse of Piddles' movement and starts after him at a 
  friendly trot.

Cutter glances around the park. "Not bad. Runnin' with a bunch called 
  Untouchables. We kinda keep a hairy peeled on the park, part of our turf. 
  Doin' real well, in fact, since I got outta Nu Yawk."

Salem grunts. He glances around, then turns back to Morgan. "One thing 
  especially you should do." He pauses, to give his next words greater weight. 
  "Guard your kinfolk."

Kathryn cocks her head. "The Untouchables? Kyle and Dillan? They want my hide. 
  Mind, so do most around here. I'm not too popular, due to my actions. Me own 
  fault. I was a little stupid."

Cutter blanches. "Jeezus Kryst. You're the Kath that got Dillan's girlfriend 
  killed, ain'tcha?"

Morgan tries to hide her snarl, but a little gets out of her throat before she 
  masters herself. "What about them?" she asks, her jaw clenching tensely.

Merria sees the crowd from a distance and angles over, filled with evident 
  curiosity. Seeing Pid, she speeds up and waves enormously as she approaches.

Morgan and Salem stand secluded by the river conversing in mostly hushed tones.

Piddles eyes the oncoming, overly friendly black poodle and looks around for 
  escape.

Kathryn is sat near the fountain, speaking with Cutter, and seems to be at the 
  start of an arguement.

Salem leans closer to Morgan, voice lowering even further. "It was the first 
  thing they did to my-- my former Sept. They got to the Kin while our backs 
  were turned. By the time we hunted them down, we were too late. Just a mass 
  of graves, some of them dug out from the inside." The Ronin's face turns, if 
  possible, even more grim. "Later, our Kin fought against us. Leech 
  cannon-fodder."

The black standard poodle, rubber-banded topknot swaying in the wind, 
  accelerates toward Piddles.

Kathryn says "I didn't get her killed! She's probably reformed somewhere. 
  Plus, she made the choice, not me. I didn't stick my claws into her or 
  anything. The spirit made her choice." Kathryn looks hurt at the suggestion, 
  and squirms under Cutter's gaze. "Richard, you know I'd never do that 
  intentionally.""

Cutter blinks. "That means you're the Kath everybody's been frothin' about cuz 
  of..."

Piddles grins hesitantly at Merria and sighs resignedly at the fluffy dog.

Morgan's eyes drop from watching the Ronin, and she blanches visibly, losing 
  her composure. She's clearly disgusted by the thought. "Those... fucking 
  Wyrmspawn bastards." She spits the words out, her anger causing her face to 
  flush a hot crimson red.

Merria bounces over to Pid's side, though she notes the others present with 
  interest. "Pid! How are you?"

Salem's own rage sparks in response to the Fury's, muscles in his jaw 
  clenching. He closes his eyes for a moment, fighting back the waves of 
  blood-red anger until he can speak evenly again. "Yes, exactly."

Piddles points past the grinning canine, as if he were ignoring it. "Pidza 
  doin' okie. He make da snoo anjel." He grins, feeling accomplishful, and 
  indicates the sizable and not entirely neat snow angel a ways away. "Izza 
  furst wun Pid ever dun."

Kathryn nods. "Probably..." Kathryn gazes at the floor, and traces patterns in 
  the dirt with her feet. "What you heard?"

Cutter shrugs. "That you'd gotten outta hand, did somethin' stupid, an' that 
  you'd bin dealt with."

Merria stands on her toes to get a better perspective of the snow angel. 
  "Cool." She grins. "Who's your friend?"

Kathryn says "Did what?" Kathryn's head comes up slowly, and she gazes into 
  Cutter's face. "Tell me what I did. And although judgement *has* been 
  passed, I'm still waiting to be 'dealt' with.""

Cutter looks very deliberately around the park, then looks back. "Not the time 
  or the palace. Capice?"

Morgan spits off the side in the snow, as if it will take the bad taste from 
  her mouth. She inhales a deep breath, trying to grab a measure of calm from 
  the freezing air. "There will be hell to pay," the Fury vows, her anger 
  making her voice quiet, but still edged with a razor keen forcefulness. She 
  looks up at Salem again, her blue eyes like pools of firm resolve.

Piddles groans, even as the poodle arrives, hopping up to lean her 
  forequarters on his hips and bark at him. Her blue nail polish shines 
  through the snow gathered in her fluffy wrist-poofs. Piddles turns agonized 
  eyes on Merria. "Izza Pidz ex-sweeetee." He turns back to the poodle, starts 
  a low growl, then breaks it off. "Sheez jus' too pritteee fer Pid ta brayk 
  up wit." He sighs and slumps his head down onto Merria's shoulder. "Pidza 
  jus' a sucker."

[Net.death and then recovery]

Merria starts to giggle helplessly. "Aw, Pid. Maybe you could let her down 
  gently?"

Kathryn shrugs. "*She* knows," Kath points at Morgan. "She knows, too," she 
  says, indicating Merria. "I'm not sure about the dark one, but I don't think 
  he'd care much, and Pids, well, Pids is a Gnawer." Kathryn spreads her hands 
  wide to make her point. "Y'know what they think about that."

Piddles gives another whimpering sigh. "But sheez too prittee." He straightens 
  up. "Pid, he meen, look." He scritches under the poodle's ear and she leans 
  her face toward Merria. "Howkin Pid chays offa prittee fays like dat? She 
  gots big booteefool eyezz, an de long strate nose, an she smarter'n enny 
  udder sweeetee Pidz had."

Cutter shakes his head. "Ain't my concern who you're sleepin' with, long as 
  there ain't no kids. An' long as the halfmoons got things under control."

"She sounds perfect, Pid," Merria says. "And she obviously thinks well of you. 
  So what's wrong?"

Morgan spits off the side in the snow, as if it will take the bad taste from 
  her mouth. She inhales a deep breath, trying to grab a measure of calm from 
  the freezing air. "There will be hell to pay," the Fury vows, her anger 
  making her voice quiet, but still edged with a razor keen forcefulness. She 
  looks up at Salem again, her blue eyes like pools of firm resolve.

Big brown eyes better suited to children's paintings of stray puppies turn 
  tragically to Merria. "Pid, he not de type to beee... tie doon. Sheeza 
  smartie, so she wantsa..." He pauses to sigh down at his "sweetee" again. 
  "Commitmunt." He says the final word like a funeral gong.

Salem meets the Fury's gaze for moment, his eyes dark to her light. He drops 
  the look before it can become challenge, however, and glances off toward 
  Kathryn and Cutter.

Kathryn rubs her stomach, thoughtfully. "Don't think I've got any in there. 
  Hope not, anyhow. Esther sentenced me. Made quite a splash, didn't I? Like I 
  did back home, too." Kathryn's face twists in a wry grin. "My own fault, and 
  it won't happen again. I know that now."

Cutter nods. "Good call. Repeat offenders don't get a lotta mercy." He glances 
  around the park again, pausing on Pid, Merria and the bitch.

Up from the meadow bops Sally, blonde hair bouncing forward across her 
  shoulders and her eyes bright as she checks out the park for any familiar 
  faces.

Merria puts one hand over her mouth in a failed attempt to stifle more giggles.

Salem fails to notice Sally's arrival. He and Morgan are off by themselves, in 
  what could be called Deep Conversation.

The poodle takes hold of Pid's sleeve and tugs.

Morgan's cheek twitches, the single tic giving her angry inner dialogue away, 
  although she's mastered her emotions enough to smooth her face. She grunts 
  again at Salem, dismissing him, for now, sounding like she's talked enough 
  about unpleasant things. She begins to cross toward Merria and Piddles.

"She must be pretty bright," Merria adds, "to've recognized you."

Salem, discarded like an empty condom wrapper, watches Morgan go. Once her 
  back is turned, his face etches itself into a black scowl, and he pulls out 
  his cigarettes with sharp, tense gestures.

Sally MacKay does not miss Salem in her sweep of the park, but neither does 
  she head for him. Or look at him. "Hey Cutter," she calls out. "Who's your 
  girlfriend?" she asks, nodding at the dog with bright amusement at her own 
  joke. She gives Merria a wave, then a smile and a nod to Morgan as she, too, 
  arrives.

Piddles is nearly in tears. "Pidza don wanna be 
  stupidfuckinassholebastardsunuvabeetch male dat de Fyooreez hate!" he wails 
  quietly into Merria's shoulder. "Pid taut he not bein' dat wen he hook up 
  wit de sweeteeeez!"

Kathryn looks around the park, suprised to see so many people. "Well, I won't 
  do it again, and I will do my penance for it. And I will get back into the 
  Sept, no matter what Brain asks me to do, I'll do it."

Cutter turns and looks up. "Huh? Hey. Sally Mack." He smiles pleasantly enough.

Merria bites her lip and looks up at Pid, worriedly. "Um," she says, taking 
  his dilemma seriously finally. "Um. I don't know about lupes, Pid, 
  but...well, heck, I don't know much about it at all, but I /think/ you're 
  gonna haveta pick one way or the other, an' just stick to it, you know?"

Salem lights up, puffing away at the cigarette with grim, sour determination. 
  He turns his back on the other park-goers and stalks a few steps closer to 
  the river to brood at it.

After giving Piddles a curious look, Sally greets Kath with a, "Hey." She 
  steps up next to Cutter and gives him a friendly nudge, "How's it going?"

Piddles sighs heavily and looks down at the poodle. "Pidza can' jus' letter go 
  wandrin' off. She ain't no citee dog, nohow. Gotta beea gennulmun an' walk 
  'er home, yah?"

Kathryn waves half-heartedly to Sally. "So, Richard. You said you changed your 
  name? I'm interested, do tell."

Cutter nods his head. "Sally, you know Spoo-- Kathryn?"

Morgan finally arrives and glances from Piddles, to Merria, to the poodle 
  bitch and back to the Piddles again. She conjures a tight, polite smile for 
  the Gnawers. "Afternoon," she says.

Sally MacKay gives Piddles a longer look as he addresses the dog, then nods. 
  "Yeah, we hang out together sometimes." As she talks to the pair, she casts 
  a quick look Salem's way, her eyes touching upon his back for just a second 
  before returning to Kath.

Merria grins cheerfully at Morgan. "Hiya." Then, on closer inspection, she 
  says, "Wow. What's wrong?"

Salem continues to stare out at the river, his back more or less to the rest 
  of the park. Smoke curls up from his cigarette.

Cutter turns back to Kath. "Uh. Yeah. First thing was I dumped mom's name an' 
  took dad's."

Shadow Eyes pads into the park, looks around, and pads to Morgan. 'specs, he 
  indicates with an earflick, then bumps Piddles. He sits down to look at the 
  assembled peoples.

Piddles grins feebly at Morgan. Then he startles and looks sheepish. "Uh," he 
  says, "Merria, Morgan, dis is American-English Champion Misthaven's Queen of 
  Sheba. Sheeba fer short. Sheeba, deez Pidz frens." The poodle barks and 
  offers her paw.

"Nothing," the Fury maintains in a flat voice. "How're you?" she asks, canting 
  her head at the poodle before she gives Shadow Eyes an even, careful nod.

Kathryn slaps Cutter lightly on the arm. "I tol' ya not to call me that. Not 
  Richard, then, Dick?" Kathryn grins a little. "So, what you calling yourself 
  now?"

Cutter says "Thomson. Cutter Thomson."

Sally MacKay looks to Shadow Eyes as he joins their gathering, then looks 
  away, starting to dismiss him as just another dog. She does a double take, 
  then nods to him, "Hey, eh- you."

Kathryn nods. "You prefer 'Cutter' or 'Thompson' then? Oh, by the way. After 
  my Rite, I got named. Wolf-Dancer. Don't ask how. Please." Kathryn rolls her 
  eyes as she speaks, obviously embarassed.

Cutter nods slowly. "Oookay. Cutter works f'most folks." He glances back to 
  Sally. "Kathryn's from N'york too."

Shadow Eyes flicks an ear at the mention of Rites in the park, but settles by 
  Pids and his packmates new-found girlfriend. He gives another look and sniff 
  to Morgan, then puts his head on his paws.

Merria nods distractedly at Sheba. "Pleasedtameetcha," she says, and even 
  shakes the paw, but more of her attention is fixed in concern on Morgan. 
  "Mo--rhya, are you sure?" The honorific serves, even if the look had not, to 
  mirror to Morgan how disturbed she must appear.

"Yeah?" Sally asks, looking to Kath. "Upstate or down?"

Kathryn shrugs. "Not up on how the classify things. I lived in Manhattan, for 
  a little while. Near the park."

Sally MacKay nods, her eyes bright as she runs a hand through her hair, 
  shifting it back from her face. "That's down, /down/ state. Upstate's in the 
  sticks, you know? Albany and all points north?"

Morgan lifts her shoulders non-comittally. "Fine," she says, her tone implying 
  that further questions would be extremely unwelcome. "I have to finish my 
  patrol," she then mumbles vaguely, gracefully slipping through the 
  collection of Gnawers. "Tell Jimmy I want to talk with him, ASAP."

The poodle wanders over to investigate Shadow Eyes curiously.

Cutter shakes his head. "Nope. We're from The City. If I c'n make it there an' 
  all that shit."

Merria nods, watching Morgan go, a note of speculation coloring the worry, now.

Merria sees Shadow Eyes. "Hey, hi!"

[Shadow Eyes]
A large brown dog, leaner than most dogs, with a nice friendly expression that 
  also has a wild side to him. Soft brown fur ruffles at his neck, thick and 
  heavy, while his eyes are large and wide, brown and soft gold. He looks like 
  he would like nothing more than to be chasing a frisbee.

Morgan makes her way onto the street in the west.
Morgan has left.

Kathryn stretches, and yawns. "Dead tired. Must have been all that playing. 
  Rich- I mean Cutter, when was the last time you were in the Park, then? I 
  can't remember, really."

Piddles watches the poodle bitch and bends down to skritch Shadow Eyes. "How 
  you, buddeee?"

Cutter thinks a moment. "Harbor or Central?"

Salem takes the cigarette from his mouth, flicking ash down onto the 
  snow-covered ground near his feet.

Shadow Eyes sniffs the poodle, his tail wagging just slightly. Well, hi there.

Shadow Eyes slurps Piddles as well, sloppily.

As the group sort of pairs off and the conversations move on, Sally takes 
  another restless, distracted glance around the area. Though she checks out 
  most of it, she moves over the river area the slowest, and unknown to her, a 
  line furrows across her forehead.

Kathryn looks at Cutter as if he was stupid. "Central, of course. The only 
  place to go in New York, if you go all furry and clawed in arguments."

Sheba sniffs at all the conventional areas of Shadow Eyes that dogs tend to, 
  wagging her own poofy black tail.

Merria murmurs, "Justasec," to her tribesmates, and moves off toward the 
  Ronin. Hands in pockets, bounce only mildly subdued. "Hey, there," she says, 
  before she gets too close.

Piddles slurps Elan back, absentmindedly, then looks a little startled by the 
  fur on his tongue.

Cutter frowns again and looks around the park. "Yeah, but since we're 
  /standin'/ in Harbor, I thought I'd check." He shrugs. "Uh. Bin a while. 
  Din't really mark the calendar or nothin'."

Salem glances over his shoulder. He makes a vague greeting gesture toward 
  Merria with his cigarette hand and then turns back to face the river. 
  "Afternoon."

Kathryn rolls her eyes. "Cutter, I was talking about back home, right? Not 
  here. Actually, when was the last time you were in here? I've been here 
  lots, and never seen you."

Shadow Eyes whuffles at Piddles, and stands. Just stopped by to check on 
  things, when I caught all the scents. Walk well, people. He gives Cutter a 
  friendly bump on his way out of the park.

Merria comes to stand beside Salem, watching the river, too. "What's up?"

The poodle follows Elan out of the park, fascinated.

Piddles blinks in consternation and confusion.

Cutter glances down. "Hrm? Oh. Hey." Then he looks up again. "About eleven. 
  An' before that, about... two or three this morning."

Shadow Eyes shoos the poodle back to his packmate with a quick nip, and leaves.

Salem's shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. "Not much," he says in reply to 
  Merria, his eyes still on the glurky Columbia River. "You?"

Shadow Eyes picks his way south, into the overgrown meadow.
Shadow Eyes has left.
The poodle seems to enjoy this game of hard-to-get and follows Shadow Eyes 
  despite his shooing.

As Merria moves off and joins Salem, Sally folllows the small Gnawer with her 
  eyes before turning away altogether. Arms folding across her chest, she 
  rejoins Cutter and Kath's conversation, though listening with only half an 
  ear.

Brian approaches the fountain from the uptown region of St. Claire at a lazy, 
  unhurried pace. He moves to take a seat on one of the park benches nearer 
  the wreck of the fountain without giving the other Garou in the area any 
  sign of having noticed them.

Piddles looks toward Merria, then after Sheba, then back to Merria, and 
  half-waves at his fellow Gnawer before heading off after Sheba and Shadow 
  Eyes.

Kathryn says "That early?" Kathryn's face shows her suprise. "You must really 
  like this place... Was that a late night or an early morning, Cutter?""

Merria catches Pid's wave out of the corner of her eye and returns it 
  enthusiastically, yeling, "See you soon!"

Piddles makes his way onto the street in the west.
Piddles has left.

Salem turns partly toward the rest of the park, dark eyes scanning the other 
  figures, the cigarette smoldering quietly between two fingers of his right 
  hand.

Cutter shrugs. "Toldja. We keep an -- " He falls quiet as he spots Brian, 
  watching him move in and find a seat. Then, convinced he's not going to 
  short or anything, he turns back.

[Brian]
Eyes of sparkling emerald green stand out from fine-wrought features set in a 
  friendly, boyish cast. The fair skin of his face, marred only by a line of 
  scarring which runs from the bridge of his nose down to the bone of his left 
  cheek, is clean-shaven, his youthful countenance contrasting against the 
  worldly, expressive depth of those eyes to produce a gentle, appealing 
  charm. Gentle waves of raven-black hair are swept back from his forehead, 
  save a few errant strands, and worn long to fall about his shoulders. His 
  left ear is pierced twice, once to hold a thin gold hoop and again to hold a 
  tiny gold Celtic cross. Not past his early twenties, he is solidly built 
  over a fine-boned frame, a shadow over six feet tall with movements marked 
  by an elegant, tireless grace. 
An oversized Irish-knit sweater of heavy undyed wool drapes across his upper 
  body. He also wears a pair of loose-fit blue jeans, belted at the waist with 
  a loop of braided brown leather and wrinkling around the tops of brown 
  leather hiking boots.
Over this ensemble is a battered olive-colored trench coat, its length 
  rustling about his knees. The garment bears the signs of heavy wear, its 
  elbows slightly threadbare and its sleeves a bit ragged.

Brian pulls a folded-up newspaper out of one of his coat pockets, and unfurls 
  it on his lap. He seems to put most of his attention on reading the 
  international news section, though he now occasionally steals a glance over 
  towards Cutter et al.

Sally's hand moves through her hair again, brushing it back from her face with 
  her fingers. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, adding 
  nothing to their conversation.

Merria glances once at Brian, without any recognition at all, and then back at 
  the river, though she does glance at Salem out of the corner of her eye.

Salem's eye passes over Brian, lingering instead on Sally and her friends. He 
  jerks his eyes away with a scowl and glares at the river instead, sucking 
  down a deep lungful of cigarette smoke.

Cutter says "Uh. Anyway. Yeah, we're s'poseta keep an eye on the place. So I'm 
  here a lot. Sometimes I'm on the other side of th'park, though."

Kathryn cranes her neck to see who Cutter was looking at, and almost falls 
  from her perch on the edge of the boarded up fountain in shock. Quickly 
  recovering her balance, she tries to make herself small, and hard to notice.

Brian leafs back through his newspaper a few pages; he scans quickly across 
  the local news, and a frown begins to tug the corners of his mouth downwards.

The Fianna's near-fall catches Sally's attention as their conversation failed 
  to. Raising her eyebrows, she gives Kath a questioning look.
Kathryn feels Sally's gaze upon her, and looks up. She frowns, and shakes her 
  head at Sally.

The kinswoman shrugs off Kathryn's gesture, then starts to shift her position, 
  turning a little, before stopping with surprising suddeness. Sally steps 
  back to fully face the two Garou with her.

Cutter posits casually "So. You, uh talked t'somebody about gettin' let in 
  again?"

Kathryn shakes her head. "I think I should wait until after I've been 
  punished. Then *Brian* will tell me what to do, I think." Her voice is 
  almost a whisper, and the emphasis on 'Brian' is very slight.

Merria glances at the man on the park bench and, even though it would be 
  unlikely that anyone at that distance could hear her anyhow, lowers her 
  voice out of habitual caution.
Merria whispers "What were you talkin' with Morgan about, that's got both of 
  you so worried?"

Salem actually leans his head down slightly to listen to the small Gnawer, and 
  then murmurs back.
You whisper "Vampires." to Merria.

Merria's mouth opens, and she turns to look at Salem, wide-eyed.
Merria whispers "Really?"

Without looking up from his newspaper, Brian clears his throat audibly and 
  calls over towards the conversation, "Cutter, got a minute?"

"Apparently," says Salem, still in low tones. He straightens up, his eyes 
  still on the river as he brings the cigarette back to his lips for another 
  inhalation.

With little clue (or interest) about what the two Garou with her are talking 
  about, Sally's attention wanders once more. Brian's call catches it for a 
  moment, but only for a moment before it moves on again.

Merria whispers "/Here/? I mean, in this town?"

Cutter blinks and stands, frozen like a frog under a flashlight. Then he 
  croaks "Sure thing." and tries to stroll casually over to Brian's bench.

Kathryn's gaze follows Cutter as he walks towards the Sept Leader. She shakes 
  her head, and watches on, hoping she is not next.

Salem glances at Merria as the Gnawer whispers to him again, and shrugs, 
  affecting a an attitude of off-handed calm that's belied by the tension 
  around his mouth and eyes. "Apparently," he says again.

Sally MacKay steps closer to Kathryn as the Lord moves off. "Friend of his?" 
  she asks with idle curiosity.

Merria pauses, regarding the ronin worriedly. She scratches the back of her 
  head. "Um," she says, and then whispers another question.
Merria whispers "Are they the okay ones, or the not okay ones?""

Kathryn shrugs slightly. "I suppose you could say that."

Once Cutter's within a few feet of the park bench, Brian calls his attention 
  to a particular article in his newspaper. "Know anything about this?" he 
  asks quietly.

Stereo far too loud for the middle of the afternoon (or night, or morning...), 
  a far-too familair blue Thunderbird pulls up to park on the street outside 
  the park. The thrump dies down, and shortly thereafter, Dillan pops out of 
  the car, heading towards the fountain.

Merria senses "Salem mutters, "I have no idea. Personally, I'm going to assume 
  the worst, since the worst can be quite horrible.""

Cutter leans over and peers at the paper.

Salem murmurs back to Merria, his eyes still on the river.

Cutter says "The circus?"

Now there's something to get Sally's mind off other things. The blonde's gaze 
  moves towards ths source of the music, and she grins once she sees the car. 
  "Hey, Dillan," she calls a greeting even before he's more than a few steps 
  into the park.

Cutter shakes his head slowly and murmurs something to Brian.

Merria looks...distressed. Just a little. She rubs her upper arms and looks 
  back at the water. Of course, she may just be cold. "Oh," she says, in a 
  small voice.

Brian nods slightly at Cutter, folds shut the newspaper, and passes it to the 
  theurge. "Let me know, hm?" he says.

Cutter takes the paper solemnly and nods. "Sure thing, Chief."

Salem glances down at Merria, considering her from his greater height, his 
  face tight and unsmiling. Stern, even cold. "Could be war," he murmurs.

Brian flashes Cutter a brilliant smile, and then rises smoothly from his seat. 
  A couple of long strides carry him over to stand in front of Kathryn; his 
  apparent humor evaporates mercurially as he approaches her.

Dillan lifts a peace sign in greeting to Sally. "Yo, yo." he calls, waiting to 
  get nearer before continuing the conversation. The Lord looks somewhat 
  amused by what little he can gather of his packmate's situation. "So 
  whassup, vanilla frosty?" he asks, finally nearing Sally.

Merria looks up at the Ronin and simply nods. She doesn't like the idea, but 
  apparently this is as upset as she's going to get. Then something occurs to 
  her, and she murmurs another question.
Merria whispers "What have you seen so far? I mean, what makes you know 
  they're around at all?"

Kathryn stands quickly as Brian approaches, and not knowing what to do with 
  her hands, she folds them across her chest. Her expression, at first 
  apprehensive, quickly turns to a calm, blank, forced state.

Sally MacKay nods to Brian as he arrives, but her grin is for Dillan. 
  "'Vanilla frosty'? she asks with a smirk, then steps up close to him and 
  bumps his hip with hers, "How about a little 'shake', instead?" her tone is 
  playful, mirroring the her expression.

Salem lifts his eyebrows, and laughs shortly, without humor. "Me?" he answers. 
  "I've seen nothing at all. I get asked questions, and I answer questions. 
  Rent, you might call it."

Dillan reels back, mocking shock at the girl's usual antics. "Aw sheee-it. 
  Y'all be playin' dat shump-shump-shumpin' with yo boo-tay. Shake your 
  money-maker any more an' you'll throw your ball joints out of whack."

Cutter looks up. "Yo. Dee. When y'done there."

Seirian makes her way through the tall grass of the south.
Seirian has arrived.

Seirian walks along, whistling softly, hands tucked in her pockets as the 
  breeze plays with her hair.

Merria peers curiously up at the saturnine full moon. "Rent?"

Sally MacKay cops a pose, folding her arms loosely across her chest, cocking 
  her hip to one side; one could almost see the jeans ten sizes too big 
  hanging upon her. She leans back, her shoulder coming to rest against his 
  chest. Tilting her head back to speak to him, she places her mouth almost 
  against his ear, "I'll watch my 'balls' you watch yours." Then she spins and 
  in a twirl of blonde hair, she's away from Dillan. "Her eyes hold his as she 
  points out, "Cutter's calling..."

Salem takes another hit from the cigarette and tilts his head back slightly, 
  exhaling the smoke in a few wobbly rings. "Tan'staafl," he says, 
  laconically. "'There Ain't No Such Thing As A Free Lunch.'"

Brian speaks to Kathryn in a clipped, impatient tone, though his voice remains 
  low enough not to carry very far. "You're not to spend any more time in the 
  city," he says. "Erik's been generous enough to accept the job of knocking 
  sense into you. You'll spend your time with him, learning from him, and 
  associating only with the people he and I are sure aren't going to be any 
  more of a negative influence on you."

Kathryn blinks in suprise, her accent becoming more pronounced in her 
  confusion. "But I though Erik could nay leave the Bawn? An' what about me 
  room at the Project?" Kathryn suddenly remembers who she is talking to, and 
  bows her head. "Sorry, Brian-rhya. No more questions. Just tell me where to 
  go, and I'll be going there right now. No more city, like you said. I'll 
  listen to Erik, and learn. Hopefully."

Seirian eyes the gathering as she walks, open curiousity in her eyes as her 
  slow steps bring her closer.

"Erik's not a Guardian anymore," Brian says, his voice lowering a bit further. 
  "Find a place to stay in Kent Crossing. That's as near to the city you get 
  until I'm satisfied you can be trusted not to bring shame on the whole tribe 
  again. And I best hear nothing but glowing reports from Erik, or I'll let 
  Steven take over your instruction. He also expressed an interest."

Dillan lets out a long breath, and eyes Sally for a moment. "Oooooh dadd-ay. 
  He wiggles his eyebrows, and heeds Sally's directions to Cutter. "Yeah, but 
  Cutter ain't nearly as thrillin'," he points out, aiming his attention at 
  his packmate. "S'up?"

Kathryn nods, and hangs her head. "How'll I get a place there? I've got no 
  money, really. Just a little left over from work back in New York. I'll need 
  a job, somewhere. D'you know of any going there, Brian-rhya?"

Cutter lifts a newspaper and waggles it slightly. "Stuff t'talk about. Won't 
  be a minute an' I'll letcha get back t'ya girl."

Merria gapes at Salem, and then starts laughing and laughing. Realizing her 
  laughter may - no, probably will - be taken amiss, she claps a hand over her 
  mouth and steps backward, saying, "I'm sorry," at intervals around helpless 
  giggles. Unfortunately, one of her backwards steps takes her onto a pile of 
  snow which tilts under her feet, and she ends up sliding to the ground in a 
  rush of snow, where instead of trying to get, she just throws back her head 
  and /laughs/.

"Damned straight he isn't," Sally says with a wink to the subject of her 
  comment. As quickly and as simply as that, Sally's smile is back. She 
  glances around at the gathering, looking for all the world like a little 
  girl just itching for trouble.

"Well, hit me." Dillan moves to confer with his packmate.

Salem freezes, all sign of saturnine humor vanishing at Merria's attack of 
  hilarity. His face tightens, eyes narrowing to dark slits, lips pressing 
  together, the corners drawing downwards in a scowl of displeasure.

Seirian smirks a bit as Merria falls into the snow. Coming up by the Gnawer, 
  she looks down and smiles, "Whatcha doin' down there...makin' angels?"

Merria finally manages to stifle her giggles for the time being. She lies on 
  her back grinning up at Salem, and explains, "That's where I'm from. Free 
  Lunch, in Baltimore."

Dillan shrugs at Cutter, eying the paper. He drops his shoulders, and mumbles 
  a response.

And Sally finds it. With a gleam in her eye, the kinswoman wanders her way 
  towards Dillan and Cutter. "Cover me," she murmurs, just loud enough for 
  them to hear. Scooting down, she grabs up a double handful of snow and packs 
  it tightly. She wanders away from the group, just a little too casually.

Salem's sharp eyes jerk toward Seirian, his scowl taking deeper root. Rage 
  snarls under his flesh, puffing hot breath into the cold winter air. His ire 
  hardly cools when Merria explains the source of the joke. "I see."

Cutter looks up to watch Sally apprhensively.

Seirian catches Salem's look and raises an eyebrow. "Evenin' t'ye too." 
  Looking back down to Merria, she holds out a hand to help the woman up.

Dillan grins at Sally and stands up straight, scanning for her likely target. 
  He fails to share his packmate's wariness.

Brian exhales an exasperated breath, and digs a hand into a pocket. He fishes 
  out a billfold and leafs out some cash, which he then hands to Kathryn. 
  "This should get you started. There are some cheap motels out there, mostly 
  places where loggers live during the season. As for where you'll get more 
  money, get a job. There's plenty of work for waitresses."

Merria sighs, the fun going out of it abruptly. She takes Seirian's proffered 
  hand and pulls herself neatly upright, where she brushes herself off with 
  resignation. She wrinkles her nose at Salem briefly. "I wasn't laughin' at 
  /you/," she says. "You jus' surprised me, that's all."

Salem grunts, taking another drag of cigarette smoke. He doesn't notice Sally 
  at all.

Sally MacKay's meandering steps carry her towards the river, not too far from 
  the group of Salem, Merria, and Seirian. She might look like she was just 
  out for a walk... if it wasn't for that snowball in her hand. Once within 
  range, she lets it fly. As the snowball arcs towards the Ronin's back, Sally 
  continues her slow trip towards the river, watching out of the corner of her 
  eye, totally unable to contain her grin.

Kathryn's eyes widen as Brian hands her the money. "You sure? I can get a job 
  in a bar, or something. Or a restaurant, diner or something similar. Been 
  there, done that. Where will I meet Erik to be taught?"

Seirian's eyes widen slightly as she catches sight of the incoming snowball, 
  but covers a grin with her hand and slowly starts to back up.

Merria catches sight of the snowball only once it's on the fly, far too late 
  to do anything about it. "Heads /up/" she yells with a grin, reaching out 
  without thinking for Salem's sleeve.

Brian shrugs his shoulders brusquely at Kathryn. "That's between you and him. 
  He knows you'll be looking for him."

Kathryn cocks her head, quizzically. "Erik kinda stands out, right? I didn't 
  think he'd move around much outside the Bawn, for obvious reasons."

Salem reacts just a moment too late, and the snowball hits him right in the 
  back of the head, exploding in a spray of wet snow and ice. And the Ronin's 
  temper, too, explodes as he whirls around; it doesn't take him long to spot 
  the criminal. "You fucking little _bitch_!" he snarls. The enraged voice 
  carries far across the park.

Seirian whoas and scrambles through the snow, getting a marginally safe 
  distance from the obviously pissed Ronin.

Cutter whistles low and starts moving toward the river. "Jesus Christ."

"/Stop/ it," Merria says flatly, voice loud enough to catch Salem's attention. 
  "/Don't/ go there."

Arlen, despite the cold, comes down from the grassier end of the park, 
  juggling her soccer ball about as usual.

Brian's attention snaps away from Kathryn and towards the invective; his right 
  hand drops, seemingly of its own accord, to brush back the hem of his coat 
  as if to reveal some holstered weapon. No such weapon rides his hip -- the 
  motion seems to have been more instinctual than anything -- but his lean 
  form nevertheless tenses as if in preparation to hand down some beat-down.

Dillan follows Cutter, looking a little too eager at the prospect of trouble. 
  Sally, apparantly, is a bad influence on the boy.

Sally laughs as her throw finds its target, then harder still at the results. 
  She keeps walking, but turns back to face him as she does. After giving him 
  one of her brightest smiles, the kinswoman actually sticks her tongue out at 
  Salem. Turning back to continue her walk face-forward, Sally seems to have 
  dismissed the Ahroun, though her victorious chuckling continues.

Seirian half-winces at Sally's gesture and mutters, "Oh no...she didnae..." 
  She pauses a few feet from the group and watches a moment.

Salem is already moving toward Sally when Merria speaks up. He stops short, 
  hands out and clenched into fists, the cigarette lost in the snow. Face 
  contorted with hatred and barely-controlled Rage, the Ahroun stands his 
  ground in the snow, shaking with fury, teeth bared.

Arlen stops, somewhat taken aback by the number of people here, and picks up 
  her ball. She drifts toward Merria, vaguely, watching Salem with interest.

Jose Figueroa is wandering down the cement path, stub of a cigar in hand.

Merria stands her ground, quivering. Her voice is small. "I don't want you to 
  get kicked out. Don't hurt her."

Kathryn turns at the sound of the shouting, too. She stifles a sharp intake of 
  breath when she realises what has happened, the perpetrator obvious. 
  "Stupid, stupid lass." Kathryn shakes her head at Sally's life-threatening 
  actions.

Sally MacKay peeks back over her shoulder at Salem, her eyes seeking his. 
  Lifting one hand, she waggles her fingers at him in a sort of mocking wave. 
  Her bright eyes full of challenge, she seems dead-set on egging the Ronin on.

Cutter finds himself casually strolling conveniently between Sally and Salem, 
  muttering to his packmate.

"_Bitch_," snarls the Ronin, eyes still fixed on Sally. "Sheep-fucking, 
  horse-sucking, shit-cunted _bitch_!" Salem spits the words out, each one 
  poisonous.

Arlen mutters to Merria, once she reaches her, "Begging for a bruising, the 
  both of them."

Brian begins moving, long strides carrying him towards the line between Salem 
  and Sally. At the next stream of invective, he begins angling more towards 
  the former, and when he's reasonable near, suggests, "How about you leave 
  the lady alone, friend, and take a walk."

Merria nods tremulously. Cursing is fine with her. Anything that involves 
  Salem standing still is just /fine/. She barely notices Arlen except to nod 
  minimally.

Sally MacKay sidesteps, trying to see Salem past Cutter. "You forgot 'mother 
  humpin'," she calls out helpfully, sounding very much like she's enjoying 
  this.

Dillan sing-songs, rap-style, to himself and Cutter as the duo walk towards 
  the river. "This is a showdown. A throwdown. Hell no, I can't slow down." He 
  nudges his packmate. "Someone needs an attitude adjustment."

Salem turns toward Brian, upper lip peeled back in a snarl of rage. "Piss off."

Seirian moves closer to Merria and Arlen, obviously keeping herself out of 
  this little incident.

Sally MacKay stops walking, looking to Brian with the same expression she used 
  on Salem. "You heard the man, piss off," she seconds brightly. She places 
  her hands on her hips and tosses back her hair, watching the Alpha with eyes 
  alight with humor and excitement.

Arlen eyes the Kinfolk for a moment, and then kicks the ball over towards her. 
  Trotting after it, she says, as she passes, "You're cruising for some major 
  hurt. If you've got a brain cell or two, stop."

Cutter catches up to Sally. "Let's ride. Okay?"

Dillan pauses to critique Sally. "S'ggod, but y'need more soul in it. 
  Y'oughtta be like, yo, beeyatch, yo game is weak. I be kickin' yo ass but I 
  don't need my shoes all stanky."

Brian's eyes narrow slightly, and his shoulders square; it should be 
  abundantly clear to observers that he's rather used to dealing with this 
  kind of thing. "Close your mouth before I knock your teeth out your 
  asshole," he says quietly, his voice kept low. "Take a walk. Now." There's 
  more than a little air of command behind the last four words.

Jose Figueroa notes that the circle of people is reminiscent of an 
  ass-kicking. He moves closer, noticing Seirian along the edge.

"Salem," Merria says, more quietly , "I think she's trying to get you in 
  trouble. Don't let her. Come on. Let's go get somethin' to eat." She taes a 
  step closer to the ahroun. "Come on. Please?"

Sally MacKay tisks as her little game seems to be being forced to an end. 
  After ignoring Arlen, she waves off Cutter and nods to Dillan, though her 
  eyes don't leave Brian and the Ronin. "Next time I'll remember that," she 
  promises. She sidesteps again, gaining a better view.

Cutter studies Sally for a long hard moment, then turns away, muttering under 
  his breath.

Arlen gathers up the ball, and kicks it again, although this time she stays 
  right next to Sally. "You do realize you're asking for him to lose control, 
  don't you. To lose it on you."
Arlen says this quietly, of course.

Salem abruptly jerks his eyes away from Brian, closing them tightly, fists 
  white-knuckled at his sides and teeth gritted as he quite visibly beats back 
  the rising tide of unthinking rage, the fury that comes off him like heat 
  from a bonfire. "Fine," he says after a moment, through teeth still bared 
  against the winter air. Though his eyes remain closed, his words seem for 
  Merria. "_Fine_."

Seirian watches tensely, barely noticing Jose from the corner of her eye.

Sally raises one shoulder slowly, as if Arlen's worry wasn't even worth a full 
  shrug over. She answers quietly enough so that only those quite near her 
  would hear, "Like I'm worried?"

Kathryn quickly joins Arlen, with Sally. "Don't cross that one. I know. He's 
  got a *bad* temper, and he'll use it." Kath's words are also subdued.

Merria nods, and starts moving toward the street, moving slowly until she's 
  sure Salem's coming with her.

Brian remains where he is, likewise waiting to be sure Salem's on his way out.

Cutter moves up near Brian and murmurs "I know the first asshole. Who's the 
  second one?"

Jose Figueroa walks up, stogie butt in mouth. "Que pasa, Seirian?" he inquires 
  quietly, surveying the Ronin and company.

Salem turns on his heel, sharply, and follows Merria in a predatorial stalk, 
  hands still clenched into fists.

Seirian turns her head slightly to answer Jose. "Sally d'cided t'live a bit 
  dang'rously t'night."

The brightness of Sally's smile fades just a degree or two as folks gather 
  around her to offer their warnings. She moves a few steps away from them, 
  watching Salem's back as he goes. Her laughter has vanished and she calls no 
  comments, only watches him leave, her smile ebbing further away.

Arlen bares her teeth, briefly. "Look, if you like playing with fire, do it 
  with fire that can't kill you in an unthinking Rage. He can't control 
  himself, if you provoke him too hard, and he might go into the warform." 
  This is murmured, and quite quietly.

Brian shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head vaguely at Cutter; it's an 
  admission of ignorance as to asshole-identification.

[Salem follows Merria out into the street and to Garcia's Pizza.]

Merria holds the door open for Salem with a shakey smile.

Salem continues to seethe visibly as the pair walk along, and he keeps 
  seething as they enter the pizza parlor.

Merria murmurs, "You find a place, I'll get us some pizza, okay?"

Salem nods once, sharply, and heads for a booth near the back. The Rage coming 
  off him draws several nervous, wary looks.

Merria makes her way up to the counter, with only a few worried glances back 
  at Salem, to make sure he gets where he is going without incident. At the 
  counter, she rummages around for change, and finds enough for a small cheese 
  pizza and two cokes, which she purchases. As she waits for the piza to be 
  ready, she brings the cokes back to the table and offers one to Salem.

Salem takes it without comment, stabbing the straw into the glass with a sharp 
  motion. His face remains tight with anger, and he glares at a spot on the 
  nearby wall.

Merria skins her own straw by scrunching the wrapper down. Then she dips her 
  straw in the coke and touches the wet end to the wrapper, watching the 
  resultant 'caterpillar' expand.

"Bitch," Salem mutters, still glaring at that spot in the wall. "Fucking 
  _bitch_."

Merria nods.

Salem hisses breath out through his teeth and leans forward, propping his 
  elbow against the table, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose, near 
  his now-closed eyes. "God-dammit."

Merria fiddles with her straw. She starts to say something, and then stops, 
  just nodding again. At that point, her number is called, and she slides out 
  from the booth to get it, coming back in a few minutes with a fragrant pizza 
  on a platter, and two paper plates. "Here," she says quietly, setting it 
  down on the table and putting a paper plate at the Ronin's elbow. She slides 
  into the seat across from him again.

Salem takes a couple of slices without further comment and sinks his teeth 
  into one. Slowly, the tides of Rage start ebbing back, though the Ronin's 
  hand trembles visibly; there are crescent-moon shaped red marks on his palms 
  where fingernails have savagely dug in.

"Careful," Merria says. "It's hot."

"Mmf," says Salem, indistinctly. He swallows and sets the slice down, using 
  the napkin to wipe sauce from his mouth. "Yes. It is."

Merria nods, and takes a slice, herself, handling it a little gingerly. "Sorry 
  I couldn't get a medium." She takes an enormous bite.

Salem takes another bite into his pizza slice. "It's fine," he mutters. He 
  hasn't yet looked at the Elephant's Child and seems more than willing to 
  talk about nothing _except_ for the recent incident in the park.

Merria says, "Can I ask you something about what you were saying about the, 
  um, nasty folks in town?"

Salem's eyes slide toward her, unsmiling. "Yes."

Merria takes another bite, and then says, diffidently, "Um, are they, um, the 
  reason you didn't like New York?"

Salem pauses, then finishes chewing his mouthful of pizza. He swallows, washes 
  it with a draught of Coke. "No," he answers. He stirs the ice around with 
  his straw, apparently considering whether or not to add to this.

Merria tips her head to one side, curious.

Salem continues to stir the ice, slowly. Finally, he stops and simply shakes 
  his head once, taking up the pizza slice and biting into it again.

"Tell me?" Merria asks, almost coaxingly.

Salem swallows his mouthful and sets the crust down on his plate next to the 
  second slice. His eyes turn toward her, dark as the Abyss and almost as 
  empty. "You never asked how I became... this," he murmurs.

Merria grins for a milisecond, ruefully, then ducks her head. "Well, I 
  wondered, but it didn''t seem...tactful." She shrugs. "There were lots of 
  other things I wanted to ask you, anyhow." She cocks her head to one side, 
  biting her lower lip as she looks at him. Releasing it, she says hesitantly, 
  "Would you tell me?"

Salem makes the ice clink together in his glass. His lips twitch into a 
  mirthless little smile. "Terrible crime," he murmurs sardonically. "I was a 
  prisoner of war."

Merria frowns. "Why should - they blamed /you/?" she asks, finding it 
  difficult to make this connection.

Salem shakes his head slightly, fingers still lightly holding the straw. "It 
  doesn't matter anymore," he murmurs. "But.. suffice to say that I know a 
  great deal about a certain type of vampire." The small muscle near his left 
  eye spasms, subtly.

Merria's eyes are wide and dark and sad. "I'm sorry. I'm so glad you got away."

Salem shrugs. "A childhood companion hated me enough not to wish for a quick 
  and final death. So." He looks up at her again, solemn as funerals, hard as 
  granite.

Merria meets the gaze, not challenging, just too caught up in her imagination 
  of what it must have been like to look away. "I don't hate you," she says. 
  "But I'm glad you didn't die, too."

Salem's brow furrows slightly, his look turning considering, calculating. "Why 
  _don't_ you hate me?" he asks.

A faint glimmer, not of laughter, but of a smile touches Merria's dark eyes. 
  "'M not in the habit of hatin' people," she says lightly. And then, more 
  seriously again, "Because you try. Because you care." She shrugs a little, 
  itchy at what sounds like self-importance, but she lets the words stand.

Salem sits back in the booth, now slightly bemused as he considers the small 
  Bone Gnawer Ragabash. After a moment, he smirks crookedly. "Mmf. Perhaps. 
  But thank you anyway."

Merria smiles more brightly, and takes a second piece of pizza, having 
  finished gnawing the first one to death. "So, what has /Morgan/ seen, that 
  she was askin' you about?"

Salem grunts, the faint smile evaporating as he, too, takes up his second 
  slice. "I have no idea."

Merria looks puzzled around a mouthful of cheese and tomato. "But--" she says, 
  swallowing, "--what was she askin' you, then?"

"Just general information," Salem replies, once he's swallowed his mouthful.

Merria says, "Oh," wisely, and takes a sip of coke.

Salem suddenly frowns, as a thought finally catches hold in his understandably 
  distracted brain. "Who was that idiot with the green eyes, back at the park? 
  The one acting like the place was his personal backyard."

Merria shrugs. "I dunno. He walks like a full moon or an elder, or both. 
  Someone used to gettin' space around him. I'm bettin' full moon, since he 
  was willin' to stand up to you, but I dn't really know. For all I know, he 
  was the monster under the bed. I never looked." She grins. "I don't even 
  know he's one of us, but...aw, who can tell."

Salem mutters an oath in biting Serbian and then rubs distractedly at his 
  forehead. "It would be just my luck if he's the alpha of the whole bloody 
  Sept."

Merria giggles. "You c'n burn that bridge when you come to it."

Salem makes an exhalation of breath that might be a bitter little laugh or 
  just another half-formed oath.

Merria traces pictures in the condensation on her glass with one finger. "You 
  know..." she says thoughtfully. "Not sept alpha, maybe, but...I dunno. He's 
  in charge of somethin'. Oh, well." She takes another bite of pizza. 
  "Actually, even if he was, I don't think you came off that bad." Her tone is 
  casual, not demanding a response.

Salem grunts. "Well, I didn't break the Veil and tear anybody into bloody 
  ribbons, no."

Merria grins. "Exactly."

Salem smirks wryly at the Bone Gnawer, displaying - momentarily - a flash of 
  actual humor. Dry humor, but humor nonetheless. It's gone almost as soon as 
  it appears as the Ronin's mind goes back over the incident at the park.

Merria turns her attention intently upon her pizza. "She just gettin' back at 
  you for slappin' her," she hazards, "or she goin' to go on makin' trouble? 
  Do you know?"

Salem grimaces. "I told her I didn't want to speak to her anymore. I had a... 
  chat... with one of the Black Furies, and frankly, beating on women isn't 
  something I enjoy enough to risk getting my ass killed or run out of the 
  bloody city." He scowls. "Any fool with half a brain would have been _glad_. 
  But not _that_ little bitch."
Salem bites into the slice of pizza, savagely.

Merria forms a silent 'O.' She nods, and spends a while eating pizza and 
  digesting information.

Salem concentrates on his food for several moments.

"Who was it?" Merria asks finally. "Arlen?"

Salem grunts, making an affirmative 'yes' noise through a full mouth.

Merria nods. "I like her."

Salem swallows, wipes his mouth with the napkin. "She is... reasonable."

Merria grins. "Yeah, she is. She's nice, too. She was the first person I met 
  in St. Claire. Gave me an' apple."

"Ah," says the Ronin, all dry humor again. "You did better than I did, then."

Merria wrinkles her nose. "I got a couple advantages."

"True." Salem finishes the second slice of pizza.

Merria eats quietly for a few more minutes. "Has it always been like this, or 
  did all the nasty things happening make it worse?"

Salem considers the question with lifted eyebrow. "How, exactly, do you mean?"

Merria finishes her second slice. "Um," she says articulatley. "Well. You 
  know. Gettin' kinda prickly." She grins at him

Salem helps himself to a third slice of the small pizza. "You mean my... 
  temper?"

Merria nods several times.

Salem frowns slightly, his eyes shifting away from her as he bites into the 
  pizza. Once his mouth's clear again, he says, "It... wasn't always _quite_ 
  this bad." The admission comes grudgingly.

Merria light up unexpectedly. "But that's great."

Salem blinks once, puzzled. "It is?"

Merria nods. "Don't you see? That means, if things get better for you, maybe 
  that'll get better, too. It doesn't alwys have to be like this."

Salem makes a vague 'mmf' noise of mild disbelief. "Optimism."

Merria laughs, and takes her third piece of pizza. "It works."

"If you say so," replies Salem mildly as he makes a bit more of the slice 
  disappear.

Merria works on her third slice. "Have you seen any good movies, lately?"

Salem pauses, getting that quizzical expression on his face, the look that's 
  becoming quite familiar as the Ronin still is not used to the Gnawer's way 
  of shifting subjects. "Movies? No."

Merria beams. "You wanna go see one with me?"

Salem regards the Ragabash, chin lifted slightly. "Mm. Very well. But let _me_ 
  pay this time, hm?" Again, that flash of dry, deadpan humor. "Allow an 
  outcast a _little_ pride."

Merria grins. "If I get to choose the movie," she bargains mischeivously.

Salem agrees to this with a dip of his head. "Very well."

Merria beams.

Salem finishes the slice of pizza, washing it down with a draught of cola.

[And for once, a scene ends peacefully. Woo.]