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[3/22/98] [Dark Wine and Roses] "Oh, man. They stuck you with community service work?" The goth apparently finds this to be a bad thing. He's sitting across the table from Sally. "You tried paying off the guy in charge to let you off the hook? Have him just claim you were there?" Salem steps into the cafe, a newspaper under his left arm. The Garou walks with his usual brisk pace, clothes clean and the short beard well-trimmed, though his face is dark and there are lines of tension around his eyes and mouth. Sally MacKay rolls her eyes. "I did. He didn't like the idea at all." The blonde wrinkles her nose again, "You would not believe what I have to do there. It seriously sucks." "You tried making it look like you couldn't do shit right? Foot-dragging and making it rough on him?" Nicodemus, back towards the wall and positioned strategically in order to have the entrance in sight, quickly notices Salem's entrance. The table and seating choice is precisely where someone with a bit of street smarts would grab. Salem glances at the pair, eyes narrowing a moment before his face reverts to something resembling stillness. He moves toward their table. "Evening, Mustang." Shaking her head, Sally smiles and nods. "Yeah, I did. He didn't go for it. But hey, look at the bright side. I only have like, a million more hours to go!" She looks up at the voice, then grins and bounces out of her chair. "Salem!" For an instant it looks like she might hug him, then instead just touches his arm with her hand. Quietly, her eyes on his, "Dude, you missed /a lot/!" Still bubbling over with excitement, she moves her coat to make a place for the Ronin. Salem drops his newspaper on the table and seats himself without asking for an invitation. "Oh?" His eyes move toward Nick and then back to Sally. An edginess begins to creep into Nicodemus as Salem comes over and gets invited to join them by Sally. Of course, this is probably a reaction he's long familiar with by now. For the moment, he keeps quiet, watching the other two speak. Sally nods quickly, sending a wave of blonde down across her eyes. Brushing it back, she grins at him and nods again, but doesn't explain. Remembering Nick, she glances at him. "You two kno-?" she stops and oh yeahs, "You met, right?" She looks between them again. Salem turns his eyes back toward Nick and holds his gaze for an uncomfortably long while. "...Yes. We have. Donut shop, remember?" The Ronin smiles, humorlessly. "Yeah. Yeah," repeats Nicodemus, "I remember. " A returned humourless, tight-lipped smile. Sally MacKay either misses or ignores the tension between the two. Glancing over her shoulder, she nods to the waitress. "You want a beer too, Salem?" she asks, waiting for the lady to make her way to them. Salem continues to stare at Nicodemus, waiting confidently for the other man to drop his eyes. He answers Sally without looking at her. "Beer's fine, Mustang." Nicodemus doesn't look back at Salem for long, actually. His gaze drifts and turns back towards Sally. "Drinks are on you tonight, right?" "Yep, on me," Sally agrees as the waitress arrives at their table. "Beers, all around," the blonde declares, then looks back to the guys, "Munchies?" Salem leans back in his chair, his dark mood partially lifted. "Of course. Appetizers all 'round." Nicodemus wrinkles his nose at Sally's selection. "Actually, I'd prefer a red wine," he clarifies to the waitress before she departs, shooting a somewhat bemused look at Sally. Sally MacKay cocks her head at Nick and blinks, letting Salem pick their finger food for tonight. "Wine?" she asks, amused. Salem wisely selects the all-around platter, which has a bit of a sample of everything appetizer-like and enough for two or three people. "It's pretty simple, really. Wine plus food equals food stays down." Nick then offers a second formula for Sally's edification. "Beer plus food equals partly digested food on the table and floor." Salem turns his eyes back to Nick. "Only for the weak-bodied." His tone is very slightly mocking. Sally leans back in her chair, shaking her head as she grins at Nick. "You just gotta try it!" Leaning foward suddenly, "You'll lear-" She interrupts herself as Salem joins the fray. "Be nice," she scolds with a smile, "or no beer for you." Salem smirks at Sally, his expression arch. "Cruel." Nicodemus looks about to fire a comment back, but checks it as Sally chastises for him. "I have tried it. I don't like all the foam in it." "You ain't seen nothing yet," Sally grins at Salem. Ever since the Ronin's arrival, the kin looks hardly able to contain herself. Salem folds his arms across his chest, regarding Sally with amused superiority. "I'm stunned with breathless anticipation," he deadpans. Sally MacKay bounces a little in her chair, glancing back to check if the waitress is sneaking up behind them. "You should be," she teases as she turns back. Nicodemus ghosts a smirk at Sally's perkiness as he collects both the salt and pepper shakers from the condiment tray and begins unscrewing the lids to them. "Touche," Salem murmurs, and leaves it at that. Sally MacKay's fingers rap, tap, and drum against the table as she impatiently waits. "Whatcha doing?" she leans closer to Nick. Nicodemus removes the lids from both the seasoning containers, holding one out so Sally can look into it. "Checking for rat poison. This place sent a few dozen people to the hospital about two years ago from rat poison in the shakers." "Oh yeah, you said that before," Sally makes a quick snatch for her napkin while Nick's busy and drops it on the floor. Grinning, she glances Salem's way to see if he caught the action. Salem continues to lean back in his chair, arms folded and a half-humorless smirk curving his lips. Nicodemus peers into both shakers and, satisfied, screws the caps back into place properly. He returns them both to their original positions on the table. Sally MacKay scans their table. "Oh look, we need more napkins!" Hardly able to keep a straight face, Sally jumps up and grabs at Salem's sleeve. "C'mon, you can carry them," she grins and waves to Nick. "Be right back!" Salem tenses slightly at the touch, then rises along with Sally. Nicodemus offers with an almost angelic ghosted smile, "Need extra help with those napkins? It'd be no trouble." Waving for him to follow, she heads for the bar. As soon as the two get barely out of earshot, she starts speaking very quickly and quietly. "Guess what! Guess what!" Sally MacKay shakes her head and waves for Nick to stay in place as she leads Salem away. "It's okay! We'll be right back!" Salem tugs Sally further away from the table, smile tense. "What?" Each of her step a bounce, Sally moves further from the table. "Guess what I did this weekend? I learned, like, everything! Everything! C'mon, ask me anything!" she grins at him. Salem's eyebrows lift. "Everything, mm?" He lifts his chin slightly, then takes her up on the challenge. "Name the three guises of the Wyrm." Sally stops short. "Oh," a frown flashes across her lips. "Well, maybe not that, but everything else!" She starts walking again, slower. "Ask me something else!" Salem gives the kinswoman an indulgent smile. "I'll take your word for it." A pause. "Who told you?" "Kyle!" The closer they get to the bar, the more Sally slows down. "We talked, like, all night. It was kinda cool, even," she grins up at Salem. "Hey, and he liked my calender idea, too." Salem thinks a moment. "Kyle... Rohan?" He keeps pace with with the blonde. Sally nods quickly, "Big guy, blond, lits of scars," she runs her fingers down across her throat. Salem nods once. "I know him." Sally keeps nodding and smiling, then steps in a quick circle around Salem as she heads back to the table, "He's cool, I like him." Salem smirks. "You would." He tags gamely along after Sally like a particularly dangerous Doberman. Napkinless, the pair return to the table. "Drinks aren't here yet?" she asks, then smirks Salem's way. Nicodemus doesn't notice or doesn't bother mentioning it. "I'm afraid not. You've only been gone for a minute or two, though. I'm sure they haven't forgotten. No alcohol crisis alert needed quite yet." Sally MacKay jumps back into her seat, looking somewhat more settled now that she has her news out. Salem regains his own seat, stretching long legs out under the table. The air of smug superiority remains settled about him like cigarette smoke, mingling with the underlying tension and uneasily slumbering rage. "Oh, hey. Look what I found today." Nicodemus reaches into a pocket and pulls out a small vial with a tall black plastic cap and a hideous green fluid with glitter within. "Glow in the dark glitter green nail polish. It's so hideous I had to get it." Obviously, this find is mainly directed towards Sally as Salem doesn't quite look like the type who'd be very interested in nail polish. Salem's wrinkled nose and scornful look indicates that Nick is quite right in his guess. Sally laughs and reaches out a hand to take it. "Where'd you find it?" she asks as she looks the bottle over. "Glow in the dark," the kinswoman confirms, then deftly unscrews the cap and holds the bottle between her index and middle finger, trying it out on the nails of her right hand. "Cool." "It's positively awful," Nicodemus comments as Sally applies the varnish to her finger, "so I figured I might try it out next weekend at a club." Salem shakes his head slightly and lets his attention wander toward the counter and the area behind it. His eyes narrow slightly at the wait for their food and drinks. Sally MacKay finishes her right hand just as their drinks and snacks arrive. Laughing again, she holds out her hand for them to 'admire'. Nicodemus collects the bottle and, after making sure the cap is on tightly, drops it back into a pocket. "Just need to find the perfect shade of dark blue eyeshadow and things will be set," he says as he withdraws his arms from the table as the waitress drops off food and drink. Salem gives the waitress a dark look as though to suggest she should have damn well been faster. And indeed the waitress /is/ fast... fast in leaving the trio's table, that is. Sally MacKay misses Salem's look as she answers Nick in a really bad accent, "Blue! Ach! Blue's just your color, dahling!" As she reaches out to snag a fried mushroom from their platter, she winks at the mage. "But of course, dearie!" Nicodemus switches abruptly into flaming drag queen ettiquette with prim-and-proper posture and sharp gestures, and with fair--but way overexaggerated--mimicry. "Oh, you simply /must/ try one of these." Nose a bit higher than usual. Arm raised higher than need be--it extends to the potato wedges. "They're simply /divine/." A dainty nibble, speaking while using a hand held up to shield open mouth while talking with food. "But they cause /such/ damage to the figure." Salem turns his attention toward Nick and just stares at the goth, lip curled slightly in an expression of pure scorn. Sally MacKay stares at Nick before she breaks out in the giggles. "Damn, you're bad." Napkin rescued from the floor at some point, it leaves Sally again as she tosses it at him. Salem's snarl comes slightly before Sally's giggle, so the goth picks up on his vibes first. The whole show melts away like a snowball dropped onto a hot plate somewhere in the tropical zone of Hell. "It was an act," he says towards Salem in half explanation and half defensiveness. "You know? Funny?" Salem lets his lip drop, but the scorn remains in his eyes. "Of course it was," he replies with a mocking undertone, and helps himself to the snack platter. Sally MacKay picks up on Salem's mood only from Nick. She blinks at the Ronin, then glances up. Ceiling hindering her check, her eyes drop down to her watchless wrist, then return to the Garou himself. Forehead creased, she asks quietly, "You okay?" Salem glances at Sally and regards her for a moment, eyes cool. Then he takes a swallow of his drink, apparently brushing the mood away and sending it to lurk in the background. "Fine. You?" Nicodemus keeps his eyes on Salem for a bit longer. He puts the only piece of food he's touched--the potato wedge that was nibbled--back onto the plate. His glass of wine has only been from sipped once. "I think I'd better go. Homework." He starts pulling on his pinstripe coat, preparing to depart abruptly. "Thanks for the dinner Sally." "I'm not the one-" Sally starts to answer, then gets a sly look on her face. If either of them are sitting at the righ angle, they'd be able to see her counting something out on her fingers as she mouths words to herself. Almost beaming, she quietly tells Salem while giving him a meaningful look, "Remember number eight. Eh, or seven?" She glances down to her fingers again, "No, ei- huh?" She shakes her head and stands up as Nick does. "No, stay, I owe you, remember?" As she holds out a staying hand to the goth, she looks between the two men, torn. Salem snorts and leans back in his chair, picking his beer up again. "Good god, man. Stay. I'm not going to murder you right here in the cafe." If there was hesitation before, Salem's words put an end to it. Nicodemus chews his bottom lip once, gaze moving away from Salem and back to Sally, and stands. "It's all right. I'm just not up to being around people tonight, I guess." The suit is tugged into place, as if finalizing his words. "Have a nice night. Both of you," he includes as an afterthought before moving away from the table. "Nick, wait," without a look back at Salem, Sally steps quickly to catch up with him. "Listen," she starts once she's within range. "Sorry. I'll still owe you, okay?" Salem remains seated, arms folded as he watches the pair, his saturnine face full of a demon lord's scorn for mortal man. Nicodemus is slowed just a bit on his way out by Sally. "Fine. If you want. Look, I need to leave. Maybe I'll catch you later at school." He still manages an attempt at subtle humor. Sally MacKay stops walking and speaks to Nick's back. "Yeah, okay, cool," she sounds suddenly tired, drained of emotion. She watches him go till he's out the door, then she turns to walk back to the table, still neither looking at Salem nor smiling at him. Nicodemus has left. Salem takes another one of the breaded, fried mushroom things and bites into it. He watches Sally; no apology is offered, either by word or expression. Sally MacKay doesn't look at Salem and doesn't say anything. Taking her coat from the free chair, she starts digging through the pocket. Salem asks, deadpan, "Something wrong, Mustang?" Finding what she's looking for, Sally tosses some money onto the table. Pulling on her jacket, she starts turn away then abruptly asks, "Why the fuck did you have to snarl at him?" Salem sits up, fixing Sally with a hard look. "That wasn't a snarl, Sally. If I had snarled, your effeminite boyfriend would have shit his pants." Sally MacKay's eyes narrow. "You really know how to ruin a night, don't you?" She spins and stalks towards the door. Salem merely snorts and turns away, scowling at his beer. Sally MacKay hits the door hard with the palms of her hands and vanishes out into the night. [Later] [Harbor Park] Currently on this gusty and cold spring in the general St. Claire area, it is 40 degrees Fahrenheit (4.4 degrees Celsius). The wind is coming from the northeast at 14.1 mph. The ground is snowy and it is snowing. Skies are overcast with a definite chance of precipitation. Salem stalks into the park, a dark gloomy figure making his way through the falling night-time snow. Jenny hangs out by the fountain, leaning against the back of a bench, watching the work crews somewhat wistfully. Salem pauses near a sodium lamp to light a cigarette. His eye falls on the workers, expression twisting into a mixture of anger and scorn. [Jenny] Tall, solid, a definite presence. Even dressed in a flowing white poet's blouse and black velveteen tights, she fails to look elfin. Golden brown hair flows down the sides of an angular, squared face. Confident nose, forward chin, and fearless blue eyes give her the look of a woman born to resist, to contest, to strive, and to win comma dammit. She's likely to have near her an electric guitar and a small amp, which is useful for sitting on. A black belt holds a small leathern purse. If it's cold, she has a leather jacket festooned with bits of chrome. On her head is a brown felt fedora. Jenny snuffles in the cold, not noticing the new arrival yet. Hands are stuffed into her armpits and her head retracted into the yoke of her jacket. Salem glances at the woman, but only in passing; the expression on his face doesn't shift from the look he gave the workers. He snorts once and turns away, inhaling a lungful of smoke and defiant toward the cold. Jenny watches for a few more minutes, then takes a deep breath and turns toward the street. She starts visibly as she finally notices the dark shape, and takes a step back. Salem stuffens at the abrupt motion in the corner of his eye and turns toward Jenny again, eyes narrowing. Jenny moves quickly to the other side of the bench, interposing it between herself and this... person. She does not speak, but slowly drifts away from Salem, regardless of whether it's toward an exit or not. Salem's face twists, moving from scorn to hate in the space of a breath. He glares at the departing woman, cigarette smoldering forgotten between two fingers. Not turning her back, Jenny continues to drift south toward the downs, and then back toward the lit camp of workers. She manages to utterly not look calm and in control. "Sheep," Salem mutters to himself, watching her with burning dark eyes. "Sheep and pissant mice." Once 'safe' in the lit area, Jenny quickly moves to the river side of the encampment and ensconces herself in a group of people. She hardly ever looks up and out into the darkness. Salem leans over slightly to spit into the snow, then turns his heel and stalks out of the park.