Bully

[hazlogs]

[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.