Party at Sally's

[hazlogs]

[2/28/98]
[Sally invites Sarah and Salem to her apartment for some beer and stuff.]

Sally's Apartment(#3982RFJ)
Though not actually located on campus, the decor of this small apartment 
  screams 'dorm room'. At one side of the room stands a futon with its back 
  down, a few random items of clothing resting upon it. Across the room is 
  what's either a small entertainment center or a funky dresser, the contents 
  of one of the half-opened drawers suggesting the latter, although there is a 
  television on top of it. An alcove to a kitchenette occupies the third wall, 
  and the door to what is probably the bathroom shares the wall with the door 
  leading back outside. 
 
 While not exactly messy, the place does have plenty of personality. Album 
  covers and tee-shirts from concerts are tacked in seeming haphazard fashion 
  to the walls, and a row of different colored glass bottles from beer and 
  harder drinks are lined up across the sill of the room's single window, 
  sending an aray of colored patches of light onto the walls when the sun is 
  at the right angle. A rug of a rather deep shade of purple covers most of 
  the visible floor, adding its own skew to the image the apartment presents.

Salem drops onto the futon, making himself arrogantly at home. "Mm," he 
  replies.

Sally MacKay returns with three beers anyway. Tossing one to Salem, she walks 
  the other to Sarah and offers it. "It's up to you," she says, looking as 
  though she believes the offer of beer is enough to keep anyone pretty much 
  anywhere.

Salem catches the bottle and cracks it open. He takes a long swig and then 
  leans back, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles.

Sarah hesitates, looking Sally over again, before taking the beer. She 
  gestures with it, then, almost a salute, and answers, "Staying. Thanks."

Sally MacKay raises her own unopened bottle in return, approving of her 
  decision. She takes the long way to the futon, turning on some music as she 
  goes. Folding her leg under her as she sits, Sally waves towards the 
  kitchen, "There's food if you're hungry."

Salem takes another pull on his bottle, his eyes half-closing. "Mm." He grins 
  crookedly, and then sits up, turning to Sarah. "So. What /does/ bring you to 
  St. Claire?"

Sarah shakes her head, and says, "Thanks," as she cracks the bottle open, and 
  pulls up a patch of floor, coat still on. "Curiosity," she answers, and 
  drinks.

Sally MacKay opens hers and tilts it back for a long drink, then relaxes 
  against the futon's back. "Where're you from?" she asks the other woman.

Sarah lets the bottle rest on her knee. "New Mexico."

Salem snorts and takes another pull of beer; the Ronin clearly is wasting no 
  time in draining his bottle.

Sally MacKay's working her way through her own bottle slower. "Never been 
  there. You didn't like it, or what?"

Sarah twists the bottle on her knee. "Never been there, you won't get it." She 
  lifts the bottle again. "Res ain't exactly high scale life."

"Bloody pit," is Salem's assessment of New Mexico. "Fucking hell-hole." He 
  tilts the bottle back, draining it empty.

The blonde nods, accepting their views on it. "I'll cross it off my list of 
  places to visit," Sally comments not too seriously, then drinks again.

Salem smirks and gets up, striding into the kitchen to get himself another 
  beer. "You're so horribly suggestable, Mustang," he chides.

"I'll put it on my list of things to change," Sally calls after him, then 
  shakes her head to Sarah.

Sarah jerks her chin after him. "Good friend?"

Sally MacKay mmms and pretends to consider her answer, though her smile gives 
  her away. "Yeah, we hang out some. He's pretty cool."

Sarah nods mutely, and drinks again.

Salem returns from the kitchen with a beer in one hand and a six-pack in the 
  other. He sets the latter down within reach of anyone and drops back onto 
  the futon, looking insufferably comfortable.

"Hope you don't expect a tip," Sally says out of the corner of her mouth, then 
  drinks, trying to use the bottle to hide her grin.

"I've already taken it," the Ronin retorts, smiling humorlessly.

"Why are you here?" the Uktena asks, in return, bottle pointing at both Sally 
  and Salem, in turn.

Salem's smile withers slightly. "Damn few places left to go."

Sally MacKay holds the bottle with both hands, her fingers loosely interlaced. 
  "I transferred in to SCCU. Moved off campus as quickly as I could, though."

Sarah's eyes linger on Salem longer than strictly necessary, before she tips 
  the bottle back, and empties it. "University," she says, in answer to Sally, 
  then. "Studying what?"

Salem works steadily at his second beer, his good mood having gone sour now.

"Psych," Sally shrugs at her own answer and drains her bottle. "Where're you 
  staying while you're here?" Leaning forward, she snags herself a fresh one.

Sarah's shoulders rise and fall. "Gotta place."

Sally MacKay sounds amused, "That's good. No sleeping in the snow for you, 
  huh?" She glances towards Salem and notes the change. "Hey, you okay?" she 
  asks quieter, leaning over as if to bump him with her shoulder but she stops 
  before reaching him and sits back up.

"Lovely," replies the Ronin. His slips twitch into something resembling a 
  smile, but it isn't reflected in his tone or eyes.

Sarah's eyebrows lift marginally. "Sleeping in the snow?" She smirks. "'m not 
  a bum, thanks."

Sally MacKay nods and half-smiles towards Sarah, but she's clearly distracted 
  by Salem. Her expression mellows as she watches him, then she takes a long, 
  long drink.

Salem abruptly turns toward Sally. "Do you actually go to classes?" he asks, 
  belligerently.

"No," Sally answers, her own tone light despite his. "Been busy," she adds 
  almost as a joke. Another long draw from her beer.

"Don't they expel you for that sort of thing?" Salem asks, his grin sharp.

Sally MacKay drinks again, finishing it off. She answers as she reaches for 
  another one, "They might if I didn't quit first." She holds it in both 
  hands, not opening it yet as she looks off towards the radio.

Salem chuckles humorlessly. "Touche." He finishes off the beer and sets it 
  aside, leaning forward to help himself to a third.

Sarah says "Why go, if you ain't going?"

Sally MacKay's eyes shift back towards Salem, a quick peek as a swimmer might 
  dip a toe into a lake to test the temperature before jumping in. She opens 
  her beer. "Reggie's needed me to cover more shifts, and besid-" She pauses 
  at Sarah's question, then smiles. "My folks wanted me to," she shrugs, 
  "They're big on that kinda thing."

Salem leans back, cracking open the beer and swallowing a large mouthful of 
  it, like a man determined to get as drunk as possible in a short period of 
  time.

After lifting the can again, Sally looks between the two. "That kid ever show 
  up again?"

Salem says, "Kid?"

Sally MacKay nods. "That guy who was getting in her," a nod towards Sarah, 
  "face?"

Salem snorts. "No. Bloody pussy."

The topic seems to be improving Sally's mood. "Gonna whup him if you find him 
  again?"

Sarah says "He's a kid. Let 'im go."

Salem nods in agreement with Sarah, and then smiles nastily. "Naturally, 
  though, if he decides to take revenge..." He lets the words trail off 
  significantly, murder glinting in the dark eyes.

Sally chuckles, or at least she does till she glances Salem's way and catches 
  the look in his eye. Setting her drink down, she quickly rises and starts 
  for the kitchen, "Hungry?"

You say "Yes."

Sarah doesn't answer, though she watches Sally.

Sally MacKay vanishes into he kitchen. The usual noises follow, then she 
  reappears with a pizza box and a pile of napkins.

Salem tilts his head, his eyes falling on Sarah. He watches her watch Sally.

Sally MacKay places the box down on the floor and flips the top open. She 
  tosses the napkins down and returns to the futon and her beer.

"You take in anybody, Mustang? Invite them in, feed 'em?" Sarah's tone is 
  calm, quiet.

Salem's eyes narrow slightly. He's aware of Sally's actions, out of the corner 
  of his eye, but he watches Sarah more closely.

Sally MacKay shrugs and shakes her head at the same time, "Nah, only if I know 
  them. Friends can always come and crash."

Sarah's attention shifts back to Salem, though she does say, "Nice," at Sally.

Salem's eyes focus on Sarah's automatically as the woman turns his way. His 
  posture tightens a notch.

Another shrug, then Sally's answer is aborted as she notices the mutual look 
  of the two.

Sarah sits forward. "Said it before," she says. "Oughta be a private party."

The growing tension from the Ronin seems to prompt Sally to speak again, "Nah, 
  Bailey said he'd be by, and he'll peobably bring Elan and them, too."

Salem frowns. He keeps his gaze locked on Sarah for several long seconds, and 
  then sits back abruptly, breaking the stare. His mood takes another sour 
  downturn, and he swallows some more beer.

Sarah climbs to her feet. "Got some place I can pitch this," she asks, 
  gesturing with the bottle.

Sally MacKay points to the kitchen. "Under the sink." The empties around her 
  and Salem continue to multiply.

Salem watches Sarah with a tight, suspicious expression now, and makes no word 
  or gesture to discourage her from going.

Sarah disappears into the kitchen, with the resultant thunk of bottle in 
  trash. She returns, scratches the side of her nose, and jerks a thumb at the 
  door. "C'n I talk to you, a minute? Salem?"

Salem grunts and pushes to his feet, draining the bottle (his third? fourth?) 
  and setting it aside. "Fine."

Sally MacKay occupies herself with drinking, and soon enough helps herself to 
  one of the last two beers.

Sarah takes Salem just outside the door, shuts it behind her, then tucks her 
  hands into her pockets. She considers her shoes a moment, then looks up. 
  "Problem?"

Salem folds his arms across his chest and regards Sarah with sour dark eyes. 
  "Maybe."

Sarah cracks a one-sided smile. "Wanna fill me in?"

Salem lifts his chin a bit, and then, deliberately, fixes his eyes on Sarah's 
  again, locking on. "Maybe," he says again. He and Sarah are out in the hall, 
  Salem with his arms folded across his chest.

Sarah tucks her arms across her chest, in response. Her eyebrows again lift, 
  marginally.

Bailey leads his packmates up the landing to Sally's place. He blinks at the 
  sight of Salem and Sarah. "Hi." he says, and smiles a little. "Found a few 
  friends who wanted to come. Party still going on?"

Currently the moon is in the waxing No Moon phase (18% full).

Salem's face twitches in abrupt anger, and he jerks his eyes away from Sarah 
  and toward the arriving Sons of Dog. The Ronin scowls blackly and then turns 
  to head back into Sally's apartment.

Hank arches an eyebrow, looking curious.

Elan pads up the stairs behind Bailey, leveling a steady gaze on Salem, then 
  cocking his head in curiosity at Sarah.

Sally MacKay is sitting where they left her, on the futon. There are empty 
  bottles around her half of the couch, as well as where someone else was 
  sitting next to her. On the floor is one last untouched beer and an opened 
  box of (cold) pizza.

Raul Arcadio moves with a smooth, powerful grace behind his packmates, 
  watching the ronin and his former conversation-mate with interest.

Sarah calls, "Salem! Not through, are we?" She looks over at Cavall, though 
  she doesn't greet them.

Bailey heads towards the door quickly, and flashes another smile to Sarah. he 
  turns back to the others. "Guys, this is Sarah. Sarah, these are some 
  friends of mine."

Elan gives Sarah a little smile. "Heya. I'm Elan."

Hank nods to Sarah. "Hi. I'm Hank." He smiles.

Salem stops with his hand on the doorknob. Then, slowly, he turns around 
  again, face tight with a smile that is definitely not friendly; a small 
  muscle twitches near his right eye. "/Are/ we through?"

Sarah nods to the gentlemen, one for each. Her words are saved for Salem, 
  though. "No. We're not. Not yet." Then she looks at Bailey. "G'wan in. 
  Mustang's inside."

Raul Arcadio smiles at Sarah, white teeth flashing. "Raul," he purrs in a low, 
  rolling Spanish basso.

Salem's jaw clenches, the anger coming off him in waves despite the thin moon, 
  rage ebbing far too close to the surface. He folds his arms across his chest 
  again and waits, teeth gritted.

Bailey gives a tight nod to the Uktena, and moves past Salem to open the door 
  to the apartment, a little too quickly, mind. he enters Sally's pad, and 
  looks around.

Elan walks in past Salem, not even really seeming to notice the man. He 
  glances in, looking for Sally.

Sally MacKay is sitting on the futon, casting half-troubled, half-curious 
  glances towards the door. There are empty bottles around her half of the 
  couch, as well as where someone else was sitting next to her. On the floor 
  is one last untouched beer and an opened box of (cold) pizza. "Hey," she 
  smiles as the group enters, jumping up off the couch.

Raul Arcadio moves past, nodding respectfully at the Rageful ronin.

Hank edges around Salem, and moves inside. He nods to Sally, smiling. "Hiya."

Salem casts not a flicker of a glance to the members of Cavall, his attention 
  divided between controlling his anger and the source of it.

Bailey smiles at the Kinfolk. "Hey, told you I'd catch up," he says lightly. 
  He makes a beeline for the pizza, and smiles a little wider as he realizes 
  it's cold. His eyes, however, keep glancing towards the still-open door.

Sarah licks her bottom lip. "What's the problem? Nobody started with you. All 
  of the sudden, you're all tight-wired. So?" She shrugs.

Salem closes his eyes and takes several deep breaths, attempting to calm 
  himself. "Hair-trigger temper," he says flatly. "Inherited."

Sarah hehs. "You're gonna blow it, like that," she says, waving a hand at the 
  door. Her eyes narrow, and she tilts her head to one side.
Sarah says, "Introduce yourself. Please."

Salem frowns, his stance shifting minutely, defensive. "Jack Salem."

Sarah uh-huhs. "Jack Salem. And what does Jack Salem," she says, pointing at 
  his chest, "have against Sarah Montoya?" Her thumb hooks toward her own 
  chest. "Never met you before the other night. Never heard of you."

Salem's lip curls as she points at him, baring a few teeth. He represses the 
  expression quickly, mercilessly, but it was definitely there. "Maybe it 
  should have stayed that way."

Sarah nods a couple of times. "Maybe," she agrees, then falls silent again, 
  studying him. "What're you afraid of?"

Salem's eyes narrow. "Afraid?"

"Afraid," the Uktena repeats. "Man gets tight, for no reason, he's hiding 
  something. So." She folds her arms across her chest. "What're you hiding?"

Salem tilts his chin up a bit, lips tightening into a grimace. "Nothing I 
  would tell /you/."

Sarah tilts her head, and nods. "Nothing you'd tell me. Ok. That's fair. 
  Who're your people, so I can go and ask? Family? Who should I call?"

"Bloody nosy, aren't you?" Salem regards her with the kind of gaze that 
  novelists and poor roleplayers describe as 'piercing the soul'.

Sarah, in response, flashes a bright, edged grin at him, all tooth, and 
  nothing pleasant about it. "Truth. 'smy job. Who do I call?"

Salem, unsmiling, replies, "No."

"No." Sarah looks, for an instant, honestly surprised by that. Then, she 
  shrugs. "Drag you to someone who knows and ask, then."

Salem pulls his lips back in a humorless, feral, even challenging grin. "You 
  can try."

Sarah bows her head, and chuckles into her chest. "Don't piss me off, Jack 
  Salem. See," she lifts her head. "You had my respect, in the bar. No shit. 
  Respect."

Salem lifts an eyebrow. "Yes?" he says, sharply. "And?"

Sarah lowers her voice, narrows her eyes, and leans in closer. "And, unless my 
  guess is wrong, and you're one of the lucky fucked up humans with too much 
  hormone to keep from being stupid, you got too much piss and rage in your 
  veins to make you worth much. Respect ain't somethin' you get very much. 
  Yeah?"

Salem's face contorts, twisting in barely-repressed rage. "What the hell 
  business is it of yours?" he demands.

Sarah flashes that grin again. "Gotcha." She straightens up, leaning away from 
  him again. "'smy business, 'cause it'd suck shit, to find that girl in there 
  with her head ripped off. Gutted, maybe?" She watches him a moment, then 
  adds, "My business 'cause I been there. Go there. Like clockwork. Every 
  month."

Salem's face smooths itself, though his eyes remain narrow, suspicious. "I'm 
  in control," he says, tightly. "I'm not stupid enough to risk her life."

Sarah hehs. "Stupid enough to risk a fight, but not the girl. Least you got 
  your priorities straight."

Salem smirks, the rage still glimmering behind his eyes. "She has powerful 
  friends."

Sarah smirks right back. "So could you."

Salem snorts. "At what price?"

Sarah shrugs. "Same question. What're you afraid of?"

Salem studies her face. "Is that the price? Answering that question?"

Sarah chuckles. "Start of the price, maybe. Probably not that easy. I don't 
  like dicksize contests. At a disadvantage, you know?"

Salem smirks. "Dicks come in many forms. Yours seems big enough."

Sarah says "So who are you? Really."

He shrugs a shoulder. "Jack Salem. No other name."

Sarah's eyes narrow. "Full moon. Who do you belong to?"

Salem paces half a step back, frowning. "Full moon. And I don't belong to 
  anybody." He pauses. "Yet."

Sarah says "Yet?"

Salem jerks his head in a curt, single nod. "Yet." The suspicion hasn't faded 
  as he watches Sarah.

Sarah muses, "Too old for a cub. Yet yet ..." She snaps, of a sudden. "No 
  tribe. Ronin."

Salem answers with a grunt, but his face is all the confirmation anyone needs.

Sarah hehs, and nods. "Who'd turn /you/ loose on the world?" It's a rhetorical 
  question, apparently, as she goes on to jerk a thumb at her chest again. 
  "Uktena. Full moon. Tastes the Fire of Gaia's Wrath, yadda yadda long boring 
  shit. Oh. Yeah." She scratches her chin. "Adren." A shrug, then. "You show 
  me yours, I show you mine."

At mention of her rank, Salem's posture shifts subtly, so subtly that perhaps 
  only another Garou would notice it. Adren. His arms remain folded across his 
  chest, his stance firm, but he's not meeting her eyes now. Adren. "Full 
  moon. No tribe. No name."

Sarah shakes her head. "You have a name, even if you made it up. Take your 
  tribe, take your rank, but nobody ever takes your name." She taps her own 
  chest with a finger. "'swho you are."

Salem's expression tightens. "Who I /was/ is /dead/."

Sarah glances skyward. "Forget the macho, rage against the world, toughguy 
  bullshit, Jack. Didn't say it's who you were. I said, it's who you /are/. 'm 
  not attacking you. Ok? Take a breath, maybe two."

Salem grimaces, the muscles in his jaw clenching. He inhales a breath or two, 
  carefully, and says nothing.

Sarah nods. "Good." She says nothing, likewise, for a moment, then asks, "We 
  ok now?"

Salem smiles thinly. "We okay now," he echoes.

Sarah nods again. "You got a party waiting for you."

Salem starts to turn toward Sally's apartment, and then pauses to look back at 
  Sarah. "You coming?"

Sarah shakes her head. "Don't like to crash. Enjoy yourself."

Salem nods and heads up the stairs.

Sally's Apartment(#3982RFJ)
Though not actually located on campus, the decor of this small apartment 
  screams 'dorm room'. At one side of the room stands a futon with its back 
  down, a few random items of clothing resting upon it. Across the room is 
  what's either a small entertainment center or a funky dresser, the contents 
  of one of the half-opened drawers suggesting the latter, although there is a 
  television on top of it. An alcove to a kitchenette occupies the third wall, 
  and the door to what is probably the bathroom shares the wall with the door 
  leading back outside. 
 
 While not exactly messy, the place does have plenty of personality. Album 
  covers and tee-shirts from concerts are tacked in seeming haphazard fashion 
  to the walls, and a row of different colored glass bottles from beer and 
  harder drinks are lined up across the sill of the room's single window, 
  sending an aray of colored patches of light onto the walls when the sun is 
  at the right angle. A rug of a rather deep shade of purple covers most of 
  the visible floor, adding its own skew to the image the apartment presents.
Contents:
Sally MacKay
Obvious exits:
Door  

Salem returns without Sarah, his mood sour, but not ready to explode.

Sally MacKay's still on the futon, right where they left her. It looks as 
  though she's been making headway through the six-pack he had brought from 
  the fridge. She looks towards the door as it opens and asks what's becoming 
  her usual question to him, "Everything okay?"

Salem grabs a beer and drops into an empty seat, scowling slightly. 
  "Everything," he says, "is fucking dandy." He takes a long pull on the can, 
  and then says, "She's one of them."

Sally blinks and glances back at the door, then ohs. "I guess that's why she 
  wasn't worried about that guy at the pool hall, huh?" Either the beer or 
  something else has mellowed the kinswoman's voice, her words quiet within 
  the small apartment.

"Not just /any/ one of us, either. A fucking /Adren/." Salem shakes his head. 
  "My fucking luck. My bloody fucking luck."

After a sip of her beer Sally asks, "A what?" She wiggles back into the corner 
  of the futon, her back half against its back and half against the arm so she 
  can better face him as they talk.

"Damned fucking high on the totem pole," Salem explains. "Not living legend, 
  not yet, but fucking close."

The blonde ohs again. "What was she pissed off at?"

Salem answers simply. "Me."

Sally MacKay shakes her head a little. "But why? What'd you do?" She leans her 
  shoulder against the futon's cushion, her drinking slowing as the alcohol 
  starts to hit her.

Salem shakes his head, turning the beercan in his hands. "It isn't important." 
  His mood is sinking rapidly into gloom.

"Anything I can do?" The longer they talk, the softer Sally's voice gets.

You say "No."

Sally ohs again. Even with the music, the quiet seems to draw on until she 
  asks, "Can you fix it?"

Salem shrugs wordlessly and tips the beer can up again, drinking deeply.

Sally drinks too, then her eyes wander the apartment, coming to rest on the 
  pizza box. "Hungry?" she tries.

Salem shakes his head. Finishing off the beer, the Garou rises and grabs up 
  his coat. "I should go."

Sally MacKay doesn't try to stop him. "Okay. See you around."

Salem grunts something that might be a goodbye and departs.