Mr. Sensitivity

[hazlogs]

It is currently 09:05 Pacific Time on Mon Oct 8 2001.
Currently the moon is in the waning Gibbous Moon phase (60% full).

Walker Safe House

Kaz, humming 'If I Had A Million Dollars' under her breath, a bag of
bagels in hand, buzzes the general doorbell. Apparently, she doesn't know
individual codes.

[Kaz]
        Beautiful, this woman isn't. Most people wouldn't even call her
interesting, although there is a spark of something, deep down in there.
Even so, most people would call her homely, if they bothered to call her
anything at all. She's about 5'6" tall, and burly. Not fat -- It's the
kind of burly that's all muscle, just not well defined muscle.

         Her hair is brown, distinctly curly, and in her eyes. Constantly.
The part that's not in her eyes is about shoulder length. Her eyes are
distinctly odd, although it's hard to tell, given how often she hides
behind her hair. They're yellow, and look almost cat-like. The rest of her
face isn't offensive, just boring. The nose is a bit big -- maybe it's
been broken, or maybe she was just born that way. Her chin is broad, as
are her cheekbones. Classic features for a man that don't at all work on
her. There's a wry, cynical smile often playing about her lips that does
nothing to add to her mostly non-existent charm. Makeup, it's clear, is of
very little use to this person.

         "Battered" would describe her choice of clothing quite well. Grey
trenchcoat, tired blue jeans, an oxford shirt hanging open, with a t-shirt
underneath. Her sneakers are black, and she often has a black hat jammed
over her head.

[Salem]

          Tall and dark, he stands a few inches over six feet, a striking
and rather dangerous-looking man in his late twenties. A mane of black
hair, well past shoulder-length, frames a hawkish face, the left side of
which is twisted by scars; apart from this disfigurement, he's quite
handsome -- albeit in a devilish, saturnine kind of way. His face is one
designed for brooding and cynicism, and the neatly-trimmed, short black
beard makes him look all the more satanic. The dark sunglasses don't help,
either. In short, he has the look of the very devil about him, or of a
Christ figure gone bad.

          His clothing tends toward dark hues -- black jeans, navy-blue
t-shirt, and a pair of combat boots that have been well worn in. The
attire, though worn loose for comfort's sake, is kept clean; it's casual,
but not messy.

The only surprise Kaz has is that it's Salem opening the door and not
anyone else. The man himself... She expected sometime. There is an
answering glint in her eye, but there's no indication she's going to
launch herself at him. "Well. Hail and well met." Any trace of her usual
casual accent is gone. "And how would you be this fine morning?"

Salem looks like he's been awake for hours, at least, and if he feels
anything but perfectly healthy, he shows no sign. His mouth curves into a
sardonic half-smile. "Excellent, thank you. And yourself?"

Kaz's smile could not be called warm, but it's certainly there. "I'm quite
fine, actually. I have a pack, I have a Totem... My life seems to be going
fairly swimmingly, in point of fact. Would you happen to know if John is
around?"

Salem folds his arms across his chest. He still hasn't invited the Bone
Gnawer in. "Alas, he's not," he says; he actually sounds regretful, even
apologetic. "Though I will let him know you stopped by. Would you like me
to take a message?"

Kaz shakes her head. "No. Thanks. I mostly just wanted to drop off the
bagels." After a moment, she offers, "Want a poppyseed one?"

Salem's smile grows a little thin, but the polite amiability in his tone
never falters. "Thank you, but no. I've already had breakfast."

"Oh." Kaz certainly notices the thin-ness. She also reverts, suddenly, to
her usual accent. "You sure? They's fresh an' everythin'."

Salem shakes his head. "I'm sure they are, and the cubs will certainly
appreciate them, not to mention Mr. Smith himself. But I'm quite satiated,
thank you."

Kaz shrugs. "Your loss." She considers him for a moment, and then asks,
"What's with all this Mr. and Ms. crap? You tryin'a make sure we're kinda
dancin' far away from each other or somethin'?"

Salem unfolds his arms and hooks his thumbs into the front pockets of his
jeans. "A little quirk of courtesy," the now-Philodox replies smoothly. He
even inserts a mild touch of self-deprecation in his voice. "Would you
prefer 'Ears'?" There's a touch of emphasis on the name, there, but it's
subtle. Subtle enough that only those listening for insult would probably
catch it.

Kaz shrugs, that glint rising again. "What I would /prefer/ is Kaz. 'Less,
with this Ms. Jones stuff, you /want/ me to treat you like you're a
human."

Coming down the stairs with an anything-but-silent thumping of paws, Nails
catches the words but not the drift. He peeks cautiously around the edge
of the wall as he gets to the bottom.

Salem inclines his chin a notch. "Kaz, then." And now's he's nothing but
polite to listen to him. Polite, but distant. That calm, casual aura is
eroding from his body language, however. Slowly, but eroding nonetheless.
The rage is there, even if it's under tight control.

Kaz seems to sense this, but she doesn't do anything about it. "Kind of
you. Anyways, it ain't like I call John Mr. /Anythin'/. An' it ain't
'cause I disrespect -him-." The emphasis on that word is very slight.
"Just seems kinda excessive." She hasn't seen Corey yet.

"We all have our little idiosyncrasies," replies Salem. "In any case,
don't let me keep you. I'm sure you're quite busy these days."

There's a smile. It's even fairly sincere, if also just slightly
predatory. "Yeah. Specially now that I ain't no cliath no more. Anyway,
yeah." She hands the bagels over. "Tell John I stopped by. Tell 'im we got
stuff to talk about."

Nails deliberates with himself when he sees who's at the doorway. New
elder he doesn't understand yet, and self-admitted newshound. Oh, what the
hell. Nails chuffs in an attempt to get attention and exposes himself a
little more, showing the collar and half the sleeves of the outfit he's
been wearing for Gaia-knows how long. Has anyone seen John?

For a moment, and probably to the Gnawer's satisfaction, the mask slips;
his smile turns distinctly brittle. "Well," he says, accepting the bag of
bagels. "Congratulations." By the time he looks over his shoulder at
Nails, his face is all neutrality, even his voice. "Not today, no."

That would certainly be what Kaz was looking for. "Thank you," she says.
She keeps any and all gloating tone out of her voice, but her eyes are
dancing. "And no," she adds, not reacting at all to Corey's outfit, "I
ain't seen him. 's why I'm talkin'a this... guy... here, 'cause I wanneda
find him."

Salem turns back to the Bone Gnawer. The smile is gone, retreating to give
way to a chilly courtesy. "As I said, he's not here at the moment, but I
_will_ let him know you stopped by."

Nails's ears droop. He eyes the doorway speculatively. Maybe he's thinking
about going out to find Ice-Walker himself. Maybe he's just considering
finding something extremely vile and expressing his utmost displeasure
with this outfit by rolling in it.

"Actually," Kaz corrects, gently, almost, "He is here. He just ain't
awake, I bet. He keeps weird hours anyways. But yeah, lettim know. Corey,"
she adds, tone much friendlier, "B'fore I book it, how you doin',
gen'rally?"

Salem hefts the bag of fresh bagels slightly. "I'll go put these away. Be
seeing you, Kaz." It's not the most graceful retreat he's ever made, but
if it were not for all the icily brittle conversation earlier, one could
hardly tell that there was anything wrong. The seething rage underneath
Salem's skin is another giveaway, but the moon's still gibbous, after all.

Nails's expression picks up as he lifts his gaze to Kaz. I'm not bad, all
things considered. Can't think of a time when I've been more bored. And at
least nobody made pictures. He suddenly freezes. Did they?

Kaz says, grin not touching her lips, "Well, /I/ didn't. Can't promise Diz
didn't, or nothin', though. 'f y'bored, y'want me t'bug y'some?" She
doesn't look at Salem while making this offer.

Salem is already gone, down the hallway and into the rec room, presumably
to put the bagels away. It's surprising how quickly the ex-Ronin can move
while still keeping his dignity.

Nails shakes his head. Just something else to put on Spins' list of sins
if she did it. Yes, I'd would like Kaz to bug me more. He glances along
his flank, still covered by the sailor outfit. But... later, when I'm
dressed more comfortably.

Kaz still doesn't comment on it. "OK. Works for me. You know m'number,
right?"

Nails nods, then grins. Speed dial is a wonderful thing.

Kaz grins back. "I tend t'think so." She calls out, "Bye, Salem!" in a
cheery voice, tells Corey, "Have fun with Mr. Sensitivity, there," and
heads back down the steps.

Salem, if he hears, does not deign to respond.

Nails only pauses briefly before making a run out the door after Kaz
leaves. Time to put plan 'B' into action.