Alicia Wants In

[hazlogs]

It is currently 19:40 Pacific Time on Mon May 6 2002.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is raining lightly. The temperature is 45
degrees Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from
the west at 9 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.15 and steady, and
the relative humidity is 68 percent. The dewpoint is 35 degrees Fahrenheit
(1 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent Moon phase (35% full).

[Safehouse lobby]

	This small tenement building is a work that any interior decorator
would be proud of. The building is somehow filled with light and space,
despite the fact that the room is far from large. Mirrored surfaces and lush
green potted plants are much in evidence - jarring only slightly with the
video cameras that perch unobtrusively in various locations. A small sign on
the wall lists the number of apartments upstairs as eight, though there are
no names next to the apartment numbers. A very thick door leads downstairs,
with no visible method of being opened - except a keypad next to it. A
monitor is perched above the entrance, showing images from the hidden camera
that watches the outside of the building.

	The lobby branches off into what appears to be a small recreation
room; for use only by residents and their guests.


The door bell rings a few times.

John gives a short grunt, getting up to get the door himself; interrupting
the Packmates' conversation. He checks the screen, giving a soft 'hm' before
opening the door. "C'mon in," he rumbles, leaving the door open and moving
away from it. "S'Alicia," he adds, calling in to the rec room.

Salem arches a brow, then gets up from his chair and moves toward the
doorway between the rec room and the hallway. There he folds his arms across
his chest and leans against the wall.

Heading inside, Alicia closes the door behind her, then lumbers into the rec
room to the two. "Hey guys." She says, running a hand back through her hair.
"Anything good on the tube?"

Salem's gaze follows the Gaian through into the rec room. He glances briefly
at John, then directs a wry look toward Alicia. "The usual. Child-molesters,
natural disasters, and bitter fighting in the Mideast. Nothing particularly
new."

John gives Salem a faint nod, indicating that It's OK. He stalks back into
the room, moving over to the armchair with a glass of whiskey on the floor
next to it. "How's things? And what brings you here?" John. Ever tactful.

"Bored. Franky told me that ya'll got the pack thing up and running. Thats
pretty dope. I gave him a wicked Tat' of Cockroach the other night." Alicia
leans against the doorframe a bit. "Congratulations."

Salem unfolds his arms and pushes away from the wall, making for the other
armchair. The Philodox sinks into it gracefully and leans back, elbows
resting on the arms and fingers laced together. "Thank you."

John inclines his head in acceptance, also murmuring, "Thanks. We're looking
forward to getting to work, soon, but the Rite of Totem was a good unifier."
He reaches down to find his glass. "Staying long? Have a drink. Take a
seat."

"Thanks.. " Alicia says as she settles down upon a chair, legs crossing over
as she leans forward a bit, peering at the two Walkers. "I also came to
inquire about something.." She reflects for a second, then says.
"Pathfinders have broken up and well.. I was looking for a family..again.
Mostly because Elan inspired me to not give up." She lifts her gaze,
leveling them at the two Walkers. "And I was wondering, if I had a chance in
hell of becoming apart of yours, even though I'm not of your tribe."

Salem's brows lift. His good eye shifts from Alicia to John, letting the
pack's alpha answer.

John pauses, with his glass almost at his lips. Looking at Salem for a few
moments, he continues the movement, sipping at the whiskey, and lowering it
to regard Alicia thoughtfully. "Well," he says, mildly. A little taken
aback.

"And I hope you don't tell me that I'm a frail lil tree hugger who may get
hurt if I run with you guys." Alicia says, cracking a grin, arms crossing
over her chest.

"We follow Cockroach," says Salem, fixing his eye back on the Gaian. "Do you
understand what this means? Fully?"

John snorts in amusement at her comment. "Hardly. I just-- ...hmm." He looks
to Salem again, as if seeking some indicator of the half-moon's thoughts,
listening to the question and then watching Alicia for a response.

"Well, I have yet to pack under him, and my knowledge of your tribal totem
is limited. But, from what I recall from my many days of camping out with
Andrea and Laura, I take it that the roach tends to keep secrets and is a
child of the weaver. I'm not completely educated upon him though. I'd like
to know the rest, obviously." Alicia says, always willing to learn as much
as one can cram into her head.

Salem is keeping his cards close to his chest; the Philodox has a damn good
poker face. Still, he doesn't seem adverse to the idea. "Hm." He glances at
John again.

John's frowning slightly. "I know you got what it takes. And that you're a
good Garou." His mouth twists wryly. "And if you took orders, you'd be an
even better one." He looks to Salem, again. "We... need to talk about this
some, though. Ask the pack. I... don't think they'll have a problem." He
glances at Alicia, suddenly watching her keenly. "Why do you want to join
us?" Emphasising the 'us'.

"Because, I know you, Roger, Salem, Franky. You are all about buisness. You
all aren't going to stuff your ass into hiding the second the pack is
created. You guys wanna get shit done. I know you pretty good John, if not
personally then word of mouth. Pathfinders sat around and listened to me
bitch about doing our jobs. I want to be usefull. I want to be a damn Garou,
and its hard as hell to do that without a pack that gives a damn." Alicia
dips her head at her words. "And I can take orders just fine." She adds.

"Without arguing?" John adds, with a faint suggestion of a smile.

One corner of Salem's mouth quirks upwards.

Grinning, Alicia counters back. "Long as its not something stupid like..
'Hey Alicia, go take on those four spiral dancers by yer'self while I watch
the rest of Jerry Springer."

John tilts his head. "How do you feel about being told to hang back a moment
while I waltz with those dancers on my own?" Still studying her eyes keenly.

Alicia rolls her shoulders a bit some, then says. "As a treehumping Coggie,
its my duty to heal yer' stupid Full Moon ass up if you decide to rush in
there by yourself. If you tell me No.. then.. well... ergh.." She bites her
lip in thought. "Lets just hope that it never comes down to that, and its
not four against one, ey'?"

"'The leader may not be challenged at any time during war,'" Salem quotes.
He cocks a brow at Alicia. "That's *particularly* the case in a battle
situation."

Alicia grunts under her breath, then dips her head. "I know. Its why I said
I'd heal him. Ya'know, after the smoke clears and all that good shit."
Rolling her shoulders back a bit, she also says. "I understand the rules of
the litany and all."

John inclines his head. "Every second I spend arguing with a packmate, is a
second I spend with my mind off the job. A second I spend defenceless. And
seconds count. Big time. I'm not in any hurry to commit suicide. I've got
too much to lose, these days. And I'll die before I put my people someplace
I can't get 'em out of. In return, I know they'll never let me down if they
can help it. Everyone's parts are there. That's what you've gotta trust in,
if you're gonna run with us. That whoever's in charge is thinking about
these things, and how best to use every member. We're not about heroics.
We're not about making names for ourselves. We're about efficiency."

"I can tell. Probably the biggest reason why I want to run with you guys.
Because yer' efficient. I'd be proud to run with a buncha people who know
what the hell they are doing." Alicia lets her shoulders fall back a bit.
"But, you won't get an argument outta me. Yer' th'big dog, ya'd'be calling
th'shots, definitly." Shifting her gaze back and forth between them, she
reaches up a hand to pull away few strands of red and brown hair from her
face.

Salem's cellphone, hooked into a pocket of his jeans, goes off in a series
of quiet, no-nonsense little beeps. He frowns and gets up, taking it out.
"Excuse me," he says, and steps out to take the call.