A Walk with Rina

[hazlogs]

It is currently 19:44 Pacific Time on Thu Oct 18 2001.

Currently the moon is in the waxing No Moon phase (10% full).

Currently in Saint Claire, it is mostly cloudy. The temperature is 52
degrees Fahrenheit (11 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in
from the north at 7 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.27 and
falling, and the relative humidity is 89 percent. The dewpoint is 49
degrees Fahrenheit (9 degrees Celsius.)

Regan Avenue, Downtown

Tenements, small businesses, and tiny restaurants line the street. Heavy
metal bars encase the glass fronts of the stores. Battered cars, almost
falling apart with rust, are parked haphazardly here and there along the
sidewalks. People travel in groups, here, wary of the small gangs of young
boys at street corners. Several blocks have the same dull repetitiveness,
from Fifth Street all the way to Twelfth. Only the graffiti marks a
difference between the blocks, the occasional rudeness sometimes broken up
by light colors and strange designs.

Salem steps out of the safe house, pausing to tug on his gloves. He scans
the street, his manner alert and brisk.

Rina is sitting on the steps, drinking from a paper-bag wrapped bottle.
She looks over her shoulder when the door opens, and then gives him a
swift smile. "Hey. Cheers."

Salem arches a brow at sight of the bottle, a not-quite-approving frown
tugging at his mouth. "Evening, Rina," he says lightly. "Celebrating?"

One corner of the girl's mouth quirks upward in her wry smile. "There
somethinna celebrate?" she asks blithely.

Salem asks, dryly, "Are you drowning a few sorrows instead?" He tugs
minutely on his left coat sleeve. His smile's a bit thin. "I was planning
to take a walk to the park. Care to join me?"

Rina flashes a grin. "Sure... y'want some Martinelli's?" She rises, taking
another swig from the bottle and holding it out to him. It looks like a
green wine bottle, and has a snap-on plastic top.

Salem shakes his head slightly, regarding the kin with a wry, rueful
expression. "No, thank you. I should keep a clear head."

Rina raises an eyebrow. "It's carbonated apple cider," she stage-whispers,
behind a hand. Then she holds out the bottle again. "It's good.

Salem's expression is dubious, but he accepts the bottle. He takes a wary
sniff.

Rina's grin widens a little. Her eyes are bright, mischievous. "Would I
lie to you?"

Salem's mouth twists into a lopsided smirk. "You'd be advised not to. I
can tell the difference now." He takes a swig and passes the bottle back
to her.

Rina's grin widens, and she takes the bottle and starts walking alongside
him, toward the park. "Where did that come from, anwa?" she asks softly.

Salem folds his hands into his coat pockets, strolling along at an easy
pace with her on his blind side. He's in no hurry. His face tightens
almost imperceptably at the question, but he tosses it off with a
dismissive shrug. "It's a long story. The short version is that I was
tired of hurling through life fists-first."

Rina nods minutely, and her voice softens a touch further. "Sorry
f'askin'. I just... want t'make sure you're good with it." A tentative
glance over, and she says, "It seems right."

Salem smiles faintly. "To me, too." His expression sobers. "No need to
apologize. I've just... gone over the explanation several times the last
couple of weeks. I suppose I should have expected that, but... mm." He
turns his head to glance at her. "How much did you tell John, by the way?"

Rina shakes her head minutely. "Only a little," she answers, glancing over
to him. "I... told him that you'd had some trouble."

Salem utters a sound that's part snort and part laugh. "Quite an
understatement."

Rina hitches a shoulder, and grins up at the sky. "Yeah, well. He didn't
want to think you might be /more/ trouble, so I reassured him some." She
glances over to him with a wry half-smile. "You usedta scare the crap
outta me. I remember."

"I used to 'scare the crap' out of a lot of people," Salem remarks,
swerving to avoid stepping on a small pile of dog shit. "Except for Sally.
Remember her?" He grimaces, though whether at the shit on the sidewalk or
memory of Sally MacKay is hard to say.

Rina wrinkles her nose. "Yeah. Tom survived her, and he's still around."

Salem glances at Rina again, one brow arched. "Tom?"

Rina licks her lips, and nods. "Yeah. Guy she was goin' out with for a
while. SCU." She gives a shake of her head. "Nevermind."

"Hm," says Salem. "What happened to her, I wonder?"

Rina frowns slightly. "Think she went to Seattle."

Salem's attention is briefly caught by the mural near the Regan Hope
Project. "Hm." He turns his head to regard Rina briefly, a slight smile
flickering across his scarred face. "And you? What were _you_ up to in the
time I was gone?"

Rina's smile flickers into being, uncertainly. "Trouble, mostly." Her
expression shifts slightly, brittle.

Salem nods, his smile taking on a rather sardonic cast as he turns his eye
back to the street. "A common ailment in our family."

Rina wets her lips, and then glances down. "I, ah. Got some tribe business
we oughta talk about, sometime," she murmurs. "But not here or now."

Salem nods again. "Understood." For a few moments afterward, he walks in
silence, looking thoughtful.

[Eventually, they get to the park.]

Rina leads the way into the park, going through a time-honored gap in the
fence. "Home sweet home, which no longer sucks ass," she says lightly.

Salem utters an amused-sounding snort, following. "Yes, if you don't mind
the bodies in the fountain." He straightens up, brushing something
invisible from his coat.

Rina hitches a shoulder. "An more a those turned up lately?" she asks,
kicking at the grass.

Salem shakes his head. "Not that I've heard of. Still, I find the fact
there there was one rather disturbing."

Rina nods, studying the ground.

Salem glances at her, then turns his attention toward the river. He makes
a musing 'mm' type of noise, then abruptly changes the subject to
something a good deal less deep. "Seen any good movies lately?" Even then,
he can't quite help letting a touch of the sardonic seep through.

[Scene fades to black.  Ended, etc.]