Lyra Plays Dog, Adrian Shows Backbone

[hazlogs]

It is currently 18:54 Pacific Time on Tue Jun 25 2002.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is mostly sunny today. The temperature is 88
degrees Fahrenheit (31 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The
barometric pressure reading is 30.01 and falling, and the relative humidity
is 31 percent. The dewpoint is 54 degrees Fahrenheit (12 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waning Full Moon phase (97% full).

Salem has taken a seat on a bench overlooking the river. Silent and
brooding, oozing an undercurrent of controlled rage, he watches the murkily
flowing waters with arms folded across his chest.

Adrian walks up and sits at the edge of the fountain, his fingers playing in
it. Adrian watches the dog and a flash of guilt rolls across his eyes.

Salem glances up as the dog comes close to him, and his eyes narrow
slightly. Shifting his weight, he sits up and gives the park a wary look
'round, his eye lingering on Adrian for several minutes.

Adrian takes his shoes off, rolls up his jenas and dangles his feet in the
water. He looks up at the moon and then down at his reflection. Adrian
stands at 5'6" and appears to be stepping through the doorway to his teenage
years. His long blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail highlighting
handsome, yet delicate features. His blue eyes seem to smile as much as his
lips do. His Nordic features are difficult to miss. He is slightly tanned
and keeps himself in good shape. Though not physically imposing, it seems he
could hold his own in a scrap if needed. A necklace of rainbow colored links
adorns his neck.

Four-Leaves notices Salem's look and glances at Adrian as well, blinking in
a dazed fashion before returning her gaze to Salem. She nudges the Glass
Walker's hand gently. I know you don't like me, so I won't bother you too
long, she whines softly. I just...wanted to know if you'd seen Road-Rage
about. And...if you'd heard about ~Julie~.

Adrian looks over at the whining dog and cocks his head at it.

Salem stiffens, though not at the hand-bump. After giving the wader another
wary, suspicious look, the Walker Philodox bends down and ruffles the
Gnawer's ears, scratching behind them. "Hello, girl," he says evenly, in a
normal tone of voice. His face is turned away from Adrian now, and his
further words are spoken low, pitched for sensitive canine ears. "Not since
Sepdet's binding ritual. What about Julie? Has something happened to her?"
Tension beyond the moon's pull puts an edge in his voice.

Four-Leaves blinks again as her ears are ruffled, wondering why Salem seemed
so nice, and leans a bit into the scratching- might as well take advantage
of his kindness while it lasted. She taps one paw on the ground softly, and
her tail tucks a bit. Her mother is dead, as is her brother, and she stays
with a kin now. ~Vicki~. I had to tell her she was an orphan, the Philocub
says sadly, drifting off in thought a moment before continuing. I had heard
you were fond of the little ones, and I thought you should know.
Sees-True-Nature knows where the kin is, should you care to visit...I would,
but. Well. Bearers of ill tidings are not usually welcomed twice.

Adrian looks over at the guy and his dog, "Cute dog. What's her name?"

"Glissa Nicholson. Michael Nicholson." Salem whispers the names, a flicker
of regret and a touch of anguish twitching across his face. Then, as Adrian
addresses him, the expression's gone, and a wall has slammed down over his
scarred features and mis-matched eyes. He straightens up, turning toward the
stranger with a bland expression and a polite tone of voice. "I've no idea.
She's a stray." One hand continues scritching behind the Gnawer's ears,
absently.

Adrian starts a bit when he sees the guys face. "Ah, sorry to disturb ya
then" The young man turns back to the water.

"Not at all," Salem replies, with automatic courtesy.

Four-Leaves stays by Salem's side, partly because of the scritching, and
partly because of the look that had been on his face just before the boy had
spoken. She lifts one paw onto the Walker's knee, blinking at Adrian for a
moment. Did you know them well? she chuffs, hesitantly, canting her head to
peer at Salem through one green eye. I am sure the little butterfly would
want to see you...

Salem glances back down at Four-Leaves when the Gnawer puts her paw on his
knee. "Hungry, girl?" he asks, and then, in that same for-dogs-only murmur,
answers, "I'd probably scare her. She wasn't very keen on me when we met."

Yes, I am, the Philocub barks truthfully, then rests her head on her paw,
still staring up at Salem. But I think she would like a familiar face. When
my parents died, their friends came and visited me, even the ones whom I
didn't like because they smoked...it made me feel better to see them.

Adrian looks back at the duo, "I hear that strays are being caught cuz of
the wild dog attack last week. I'd hate for that one to get caught" He
smiles at it.

Salem's mouth twitches into a thin smile that doesn't touch his eyes. With
one hand still on the Gnawer's head, motionless now, he looks over toward
Adrian. "Indeed. Alas, my lease doesn't allow pets." He studies the stranger
critically, intently. "Are you new in town?"

Adrian looks at Salem and nods his head, "I'm visiting....relatives here."

Four-Leaves rights her head in Salem's lap, gazing from under his hand at
the boy with soulful, I'm so nice don't you just want to pet me? look. He
should be frightened of us, shouldn't he? the cub barks softly.
Nobody...normal...has smiled at me since I Firsted.

Salem narrows his eyes; the dead one squints almost entirely shut. "Summer
with your aunt and uncle, eh?" His tone is light, almost conversational, but
that intent look in his eye is anything but casual.

Adrian kinda smiles and nods, "Yeah, something like that." He looks away,
suddenly uneasy at the questioning.

Salem says, as if he just realized it, "I'm being rude." Shifting around to
face the boy more directly, he extends a hand. "Jack Salem."

Adrian heistantingly extends his hand, "Adrian Winquist" He shakes the other
mans hand and the boy has quite a grip for someone his age.

Slowly the green-eyed dog slips her head out from under Salem's hand, then
moves around him and nudges the boy in the knee, tail wagging. I don't
suppose you'd have any food on you, Four-Leaves barks again, a soft twinkle
in her eyes. Shame. Maybe he's kin.

Salem has quite a grip himself, though this fact is probably a good deal
less surprising, considering his appearance. He releases Adrian's hand after
a moment. "Pleasure to meet you, Adrian." His glance flicks down to the
wagging Bone Gnawer, then back up to the stranger, gauging his reaction.

Adrian smiles at the dog and scratches her head, he leans down and whispers
into her ear ever so quietly, "I'm sorry". No explanation, just a simple
apology to the stray dog.

"Don't mind her," says Salem, deadpan. "She's an incorrigable beggar." He
cants a glance down at Four-Leaves. "Aren't you, girl?"

Adrian smiles at her, "She have a name that you know of?"

The head of a heavyset man can be seen outside the new walls of the park,
bobbing as he moves to an entrance, and stopping often to inspect the work.

Four-Leaves flicks an ear, eyes closed as she enjoys the headscratch. This
was the reason Lyra stayed in lupus so much... She opens one eye to look at
Salem. Incorrigible beggar? I can't help being hungry...I've been looking
for Road-Rage everywhere. Honestly, you are very mean. The tone is joking,
no real malice at all. The 'dog' rumbles in her throat, the lupine
equivalent of a purr. Tell him my name is Lucky. That's a cute name, don't
you think?

Adrian smiles at the noises of the dog and continues to scratch her.

Salem leans back against the bench, one arm stretched along the back. It's a
casual pose, but the current of lunar fury continues to simmer around him
like a tension-filled thundercloud. His smile remains thin and not quite
sincere. "I've heard some call her 'Lucky'."

Adrian smiles and nod, "Lucky. She doesn't look very lucky, but oh well.
Oughta name her "Callista" with her being so skinny." The young man laughs
playfully.

"I was, personally, thinking something along the lines of 'Eliza,'" says
Salem, without a crack in his expression.

Adrian smiles, "She doesn't look like much of a flower salesgirl though."
The blonde throws his head back with a laugh.

Four-Leaves barks playfully, rearing up and placing a paw on Salem's chest,
then giving his face a vigorous licking. Call me -Eliza-? You're absolutely
horrid, no heart at all. She stops to look up at Adrian, tongue lolling out
in a grin. She barks twice. You know your literature! I think I like you.

Adrian looks at the dog, "Of course I know my lietera..." The young man
stops and blinks. He suddenly looks very embaressed.

Salem lifts his eyebrows a bit at that, perhaps a bit surprised that the boy
actually got his reference to _My Fair Lady_. "But she /is/ a child of
the--" He's cut off by the Gnawer's sudden spasm of rambunctiousness, and
abruptly, all evidence of good humor vanishes. With a sound very like a
snarl, the Walker lurches volently to his feet, throwing her off.

Adrian backs away from Salem.

Four-Leaves suddenly finds herself tossed backwards, then lands
unceremoniously on the ground. She scrambles to her feet, tail tucked and
ears flat, head lowered. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, she whimpers, eyes wide in
fear. I'm sorry, I forgot...please don't be angry...I'm sorry, I...I... She
just cowers there, too shocked to move.

Reggie turns the corner and enters the park at an official entrance, having
delayed to acquire a sloppy hot dog from a cart parked just outside it.

Adrian moves between the man and the dog, "HEY! Don't hurt the dog, she just
licked you is all!" His eyes flicker with Rage a bit. While obvioiusly going
to get his ass kicked, the teenage stands his ground.

Salem's face is contorted into a mask of utter rage and disgust; he takes a
step toward the cowering Gnawer, and then stops. He does not simply ooze
rage, he seethes with it, one short step away from exploding. His eye snaps
up from Four-Leaves to Adrian, and he meets the boy's gaze square.

Adrian kinda trembles where he stands, but stands his ground, "Back off man.
Don't hurt the dog." His blue eyes lock eyes wth the Walker's own glare.
"Come on, why don't ya go find someone you're own fucking size to pick on?"

Half-trembling herself, Four-Leaves weaves around the boy's legs so that now
she is between them. Please, I am sorry. I won't come near you again. I
won't come near ~Lianne~, or any other of your tribe, I won't, I...I just
wanted to be friends, she finishes weakly, looking away from Salem and
pressing herself against the boy's legs. I don't understand why you hate me,
but I will accept it. Please.

Noticing a dog go whimpering around two people in the park, Reggie wanders
closer, and can only marvel at the events to have lead to the drama, or
perhaps it's just the moon. Whichever. Reggie unworriedly chews on his hot
dog, dripping relish, as he watches the soap opera.

Salem's gaze remains fixed on the boy; if he hears the Gnawer's plea, he
makes no sign. His good eye seems lighter than it was previously, more
hazel, the iris larger. "Stand. Down," he tells Adrian. It's not a request.
It's not a suggestion. It's a command, no more and no less.

Adrian reaches up and pets the dog comfortingly, trying to let the dog know
it's ok. Adrian looks at Salem and backs away, he edges the dog back with
him, protectively.

Salem keeps his gaze locked on the boy, not looking away until and unless
Adrian breaks eye contact. His hands clench and unclench into fists.

Adrian doesn't break eye contact with the Walker. He stands protectively
over the stray and backs away some more. "I don't want a fight with you,
trust me, you don't want a fight with me, Mister." It's not a threat, he
speaks earnestly.

Munch, munch, rhythmically goes Reggie's jaw, as he takes in his dinner and
an unexpected show. Deciding that the one person he knows here has things in
hands, he waits to see how this plays out.

"If you don't want to fight," says Salem -- and, amazingly, his voice is
steady -- "then drop your fucking eyes. Now."

Four-Leaves still trembles, but allows herself to be lead by Adrian. She
looks back up at Salem, pleadingly. He doesn't understand the meaning of the
stares. He's just a boy, please- don't hurt him for being kind. Just walk
away, end this. I can be punished later.

Adrian cocks his head, but doesn't drop eye contact, "Drop my fucking eyes?
What are you talking about? Back off man. TRUST ME!" The young man's eyes
flicker with Rage and he starts to sweat and shake a bit as he tries to stay
in control. Adrian stands his ground, protecting the stray from the bully.

Salem stands firm, his gaze locked on Adrian's, and his eye is definitely
golden now; the explosion of frenzy held back by sheer force of will. His
nostrils flare, and at the boy's refusal, the Glass Walker grits his teeth.
"One. More. Time. Drop. Your. Fucking. /Eyes/." The last word whips out in
undeniable command, one backed up not only by Rage but by generations of
pure breeding.

Jamethon comes bursting onto the scene now, running with something beyond
the natural abilities of a human. "LISTEN TO HIM! LOWER YOUR EYES!" He
practically screams out to the cub, but anyone around could hear it clearly.
This said he just increases his pace and sets in another burst of speed to
get to the gathering.

Adrian looks over at Jamethon and drops his eyes, huddiling over the stray
protectively. His body shivering with fear.

Four-Leaves tries to stop her own trembling, feigning bravery for Adrian's
sake. I'm sorry, she chuffs to the boy. I'm sorry. I guess you were right,
I'm not so lucky after all.

As soon as the eye contact's broken, Salem steps back, breathing hard. The
Walker still teeters on a razor's eyes, but the end of the staredown has put
off the imminent tragedy. Closing his eyes, he starts to gather back his
composure.

Reggie puts down the remaining hot dog as the rescue by another person
occurs. There's a term for this in Greek plays, isn't there?

Jamethon practically leaps onto the scene at the end of his run. Leaning
over and heaveing heavily to regain his breath, James soon stands straight
again and looks to Salem with an odd kind of respect for holding back the
urges he must have been feeling. "What... in the holy name of fuck...
happened here?"

Adrian looks over at Jamethon, "What the fuck is all this? What's with the
eye bullshit?" His own eyes show his own battle with Rage, trying to remain
in control himself, "All this over some stray that he was gonna hurt for
licking him? What's his childhood trauma? FUCK!" He looks to Jamethon for
answers.

"Shut him up, please," Salem says, quite clearly, and quite calmly, now.
It's a facade of calm, anyway; his hands are still curled into fists. He
opens his eyes; the good one's brown again, dark, nearly black. Normal. It
flicks down toward the Bone Gnawer, mouth curling into an expression of
disgust.

Four-Leaves stands where she is, eyes fixed to a blade of grass as if it was
the most interesting thing in the world. She's started trembling again.
Fights-For-Hope, she acknowledges weakly. It was my fault. But the boy
should leave.

Jamethon glares at Adrian at his response then looks to Salem, then too the
moon with an expression of sudden understanding. "Adrian. I told you about
the moon and its phases, and what they mean to the Garou. "Salem may be a
mediator now, but he was born under the full moon. This, 'stray', you speak
of has a name to our people. She was a fool to try and be playful with
Salem, who was once known as el Diablo, on the full moon. As far as all the
eye shit. Remember that lesson about respect? That was your first real test
in giving it. Salem here could kill you before he realized he thought about
doing it. So respect him, his is the earned kind. The cub however, deserved
whatever she got. You must give proper apologies to Salem, Adrian. Not for
what you knew or did not know, but because he is an elder to you, and you
did not treat him as such." He then looks to Salem again, "When the moon has
lost her fat, come to the cub and make of him a request. Make it reasonable,
Philodox, I'm trusting in your judgement in this. And Four-Leaves, I will
decide when the boy should or should not leave. You two cubs will remain
quiet till you are asked to speak. This is not a request."

Adrian nods quietly.

Jamethon Ethan Black is a good size of a man, about five or six inches above
six feet and looking to have about two hundred and ninety or so pounds on
him as well, most of this being muscle. The thick and unshaven face of this
Get of Fenris is a mask of concentration most times, dancing black eyes that
always seem to be peering forward yet still seeing all around him. Long
black hair with the beginnings of greying fading into view, cascades down
his back, wild in form and hanging to just below his waist. He isn't to fond
of dressing stuffily it seems, for all that James wears is a japanese style
loose long sleeved t-shirt, and a pair of loose but well-fitted gray
sweatpants, the shoes on his feet are but cork sandles. Under his t-shirt,
covered up and only visible when the fabris of his shirt has been remove, on
his chest is the image of the Get of Fenris' tribal glyph, scarring into him
long ago. A good myriad collection of scars adorn his visage at other
various points as well.

Salem regards the Get steadily for a moment, and then nods curtly. "One of
yours, then, I take it?" A tilt of his head indicates Adrian.

Adrian looks to the stray and suddenly realizes she's a Garou and he blinks
at her.

Jamethon looks to Adrian and then back to Salem. "Not quite yet. But he will
be. I have faith. It would be easier with a full tribe to teach him, but for
now I must make do with what I have at hand. I hope he wasn't too much
trouble."

Four-Leaves looks up at Adrian at the same moment, but the surprise is not
enough to overcome her shame. She lies down and closes her eyes, wishing
ferverently that someone would be gracious enough to shoot her.

Adrian pets Four Leaves comfortingly, trying to let her know it's ok.

Salem grunts. "Mere ignorance," he says. "Nothing I haven't been forced to
deal with before."

Reggie applauds the high drama by tossing the half-eaten hot dog to the
ground, aiming in front of Four-Leaves' muzzle.

Jamethon nods and shoots another glance to Adrian. "Adrian. To Jarred's. You
are to stay there for three days. I do not lock up my cubs generally, but
some immediate punishement must be handed down. I expect you to practice
shifting between forms and walking around in the non-human forms. No
television or games or whatever other toys Jarred might have laying around.
And no sleeping in a bed or on the couch. You will sleep in lupus only, and
on the floor only. Four-Leaves. Stand up, straighten yourself out, and
apologize to Salem."

Adrian looks over at Reggie and starts to say something but notes Jamethon
and shuts up.

The cub starts as the foodmissile hits the ground in front of her and
bounces a bit, hitting her square in the nose. She half gets up, looking to
where it came from and finally notices Reggie. She stares for a moment, her
humiliation squaring itself with every passing second. Four-Leaves finally
breaks her gaze away, turning towards Salem but not looking up at him. I'm
sorry, sir...

Salem glances down at the Bone Gnawer cub, his contempt unhidden, and shakes
his head at her. "Forget it, Lyra," he says, coldly. Then, returning
abruptly to their conversation earlier, he asks, "Where is Julie being
kept?"

Adrian looks at Jamethon, "What? That' bull..." He shuts up as suddenly
remembers Jamethon's earlier threats, "Yes, Jamethon-rhya" The youth looks
down at tthe dog and scratches her ears and then, with slumped shoulders,
heads out of the park and to Jarreds. He gives everyone a last look as he
leaves. Adrian struggles his way out of the park, climbing over the rusted
chain-link fence in the west. Adrian has left.

Four-Leaves' tail tucks a little bit more. With a kin, named ~Vicki~, she
whimpers softly. Sees-True-Nature knows where her house is. I do not.

"I'll find out." The polite tone has returned to Salem's voice, though
nothing else about him is friendly. "Thank you for the information."

Jamethon looks to Adrian as he leaves, then back to Salem and his chest
heaves with a deep sigh. He shoots a dark glance at Lyra. "Please leave us
cub."

Reggie purses his lips as his offering is rejected, then he shrugs at the
unappreciative cub. The unfamiliar name of Vicki turns his attention towards
Salem.

Kaz is wandering down by the river, staring out into it.

Four-Leaves turns around silently. She pauses as she catches sight of the
hot dog, as she hasn't eaten for some time...but the Philocub doesn't feel
like eating anymore, now that she thinks about it. She starts loping off
into the darkness. Four-Leaves struggles her way out of the park, climbing
over the rusted chain-link fence in the west. Four-Leaves has left.

Kaz turns to eye her cub. Something in her posture worries her, since she
heads right after her. Kaz struggles her way out of the park, climbing over
the rusted chain-link fence in the west. Kaz has left.

Something catches the Get's attention and he offers a quick glance and
respectful nod to Kaz. "Salem," he says without looking back to him, "I'm
out of my element here. I've dealt with cubs before. But this Adrian. He
acts like he belongs with the Gaians, not the glory of the Get of Fenris. He
has potential, but he embraces his weaknesses too much to over come them."

Salem passes a hand across his face. He takes a deep breath and then lets it
out, slowly. His hand drops back down to his side as he focusses on Jameton.
"/Is/ he Get?"

Jamethon looks back to Salem now and with a stern expression nods. "Just
looking at him one can see the blood of Get ancestors in his features. But
just because he carries our blood, doesn't mean he carries our soul. He had
no kinfetch, he is for all purposes a lost cub I have claimed. The Get need
to reclaim their blood back into the line... but at what cost will this
vanity and pride be purchased? I cannot fathom. He is a good hearted kid,
and to make him Get. I must break him. Do I have that right?"

"He stood up to me," the Glass Walker points out. "In ignorance, yes, since
he probably didn't know what I was, but still. He stood firm." He folds his
arms across his chest. "You know your tribe far better than I do, and I
imagine that you know the boy better than I do as well."

Jamethon nods to this, simply. "I know him well already, yes. I've named him
Stonehenge because he has been used to standing against the times. He is
gay. He's been persicuted his whole life. He looks on being Garou as
different way to stand up against injustice. But we don't do that, do we?
Human justice isn't our concern. No, the humans can do what they want to
each other... we've distanced ourselves from them enough to not care too
much. The cubs though, they haven't gotten that far yet. They still think of
themselves as human. I wonder sometimes, if perhaps, we don't think of
ourselves as part human enough. We contain elements of all. Human, wolf, all
the spirit that lays in between. I... I ramble. He will be fine. Remember,
he owes you a favor, and I know you Walkers like to collect on favors. Make
it good, beneficial to both you and the cub. I'm going to go, I don't know,
beat on him or something equally Gettish I guess."

Reggie licks his fingers clean of mustard, then starts a frehs cigarette to
keep his hands busy as he stands in one place, slowly blinking while the
others talk.

Salem arches a brow at mention of the cub's sexual orientation, but doesn't
comment on it. He merely nods. "I'm certain that he'll be fine." A glance
over the park allows him to finally spot Reggie, and his expression tightens
a notch before he turns back to Jamethon. "I'll think on that favor."

Along the streetside of the park, a lanky shape hoists up and shimmies over
the chainlink fence. The new arrival notes the gathering around the park
fountain warily as she stalks nearer, hands thrust in pockets.

Jamethon nods and looks to Reggie again with a sour expression. "Tod und
Ehre, haben Sie aber eine."

Salem regards the Get steadily. "Hm?"

The strange language turns Reggie's head towards Jamethon, and, nose
wrinkling, he raises his hand, palm flat, fingers towards the sky.

Jamethon regards Salem and cracks a slight smile. "I'll have to teach you
German sometime. Nothing sounds quite so... perfect."

The tall arrival keeps her head low as she approaches, recognizing a few.
She skirts the gathering and keeps away from the pools of light cast by
streetlamps, headed for the grove of trees surrounding the fountain.

Salem looks dubious, but nods, politely enough. "When things settle down a
bit." He glances, briefly at Reggie again. "If you'll excuse me, I think
I'll be heading home myself. Before things decide to get... exciting,
again." He hasn't noticed Tatt at all.

Jamethon closes his eyes again and breathes deeply, as if testing the wind.
"I know what you mean. Every night we are closer to some kind of deadline
that we aren't quite prepared for, and the boss is going to want to check
our work soon."

Salem says, rather dryly, "Indeed." A muscle jumps under his right eye. "Be
seeing you," he says to the Get in farewell, before heading off.

Jamethon just replies in turn. "Indeed." Before heading off himself.
"Whoever you are that is watching us, I'll not be here to greet when you
decide the shadows are no longer fitting for you." Are his words allowed to
no particular person as he starts to walk away.

Tatt keeps to the shadows as she reaches the base of the tallest tree,
launching herself into the lower branches from a standstill. There's some
rustling as she climbs higher.

Regan Avenue East, Downtown

Red brick buildings rise, some of them crumbling from disrepair and disuse,
others patched together by repairs. Graffiti covers some of the walls near
street level, some rude, most crude, but the occasional drawing is meant for
a lighter-hearted reaction. The graffiti becomes a colorful, almost gaudy
mural at the western end of the district, an announcement of the Regan Hope
Project's presence. Trash litters the majority of the gutters, from Harbor
Park in the east across to just before the Regan Hope Project's domain,
where the trash is less prevalent and the buildings less run-down. Small
shops with apartments in the floors above them span a block here and corners
there: delis, second-hand clothes, textiles, small restaurants, a grocery
store. Sandwiched between the buildings are weed-choked empty lots.

Four-Leaves chuffs sarcastically at that. Public places. That's so I don't
get beaten, right? She scrambles to her paws, nudging the Galliard's leg
with her head. I promised I wouldn't come near the Walkers, Mama Ears. I
can't go back on that now, even if it was a silly promise. I think...I just
need some time to go over this. It's been a busy few days. But if you see
Road-Rage. Could you let me know?

Salem stalks down the street at a long-legged, pavement-earing pace, hands
buried in his jean pockets. The usual clutter of dangerous nightlife gives
the Walker all the room he needs.

Kaz grins, just faintly. "No," she says, "It's so he can't accuse you of
going back on your promise. But whatever, ok, I respect you wanna keep to
it. An' yeah, if I see him, I'll tell him."

The cub nods gratefully, then pricks her ears at the sound of footsteps. She
looks up, spotting Salem, and freezes for a moment before looking at the
ground again, waiting for him to pass by. She doesn't want to chance having
to talk to him.

Salem is, perhaps fortunately, on the other side of the street, and seems
far too occupied with his own thoughts to notice the two Gnawers talking.

Kaz glances toward Salem, snorts gently, and looks back to Lyra. "Anyways."

I'll head to the apartment tonight. Thank you, Mama Ears, Four-Leaves chuffs
softly, before loping off in a direction that will take her to the store.
She didn't want to break down in front of Kaz again- she could do that just
as well in the privacy of her bedroom.

Kaz watches after Lyra, then turns her gaze -- a cross between a glare and
sympathy -- on Salem.

Salem stops short, narrowly preventing a collision between himself and a
night-time skateboarder who just isn't looking where he's going. The Walker
bares his teeth briefly in an irritated grimace, then rubs at his eyes.

Kaz's voice carries. "Hard night?"

Salem's hand drops away from his face; he looks around sharply, spots Kaz
and then, after some hesitation, crosses the street to join her on her
particular line of sidewalk. "You might say that," he says as he comes
within normal speaking distance.

Kaz remains leaning against the wall. "Tell me about it? Or would that just
not help?"

Salem eyes Kaz for a moment, then folds his arms across his chest. "One of
your cubs decided to get a little too familiar," he says, keeping his voice
even and steady. "Which would have been nothing but for the /other/ cub who
decided to play hero unnecessarily."

Kaz quirks the smallest of smiles. "My cub was all 'I am scum and stupid, it
is the end of the world.' She'll get over it. She /better/ get over it.
Fuckin' lickin' people at full moon..." She trails off. "Who was the other
one, though?"

Salem pauses to remember the name. "Adrian... Wind-something. Winquist. A
lost cub, according to Jamethon, but the Get are claiming him."

Kaz blinks. "And he... pushed you?" Her tone seems to indicate she thought
he'd had more sense.

Salem pinches at the bridge of his nose. "Fortunately not. No, he simply...
provoked me. Lyra had gone submissive, which was exactly correct, but Adrian
decided to..." He brings his hand away from his face and studies the
crescent nail-marks in his palm. "...get in my face," he finishes, letting
his hand drop back to his side. "It seems that Jamethon hadn't told him
about staredowns."

Kaz knocks her head against the wall. "Oh. Man. Not a good night at all. /I/
shoulda mentioned that to him, but... I was doin' the Litany first, you
know?"

Salem eyes the Galliard. "You know him, then?"

Kaz shrugs. "He looks all Vikingly. Yeah, I know him. Jamethon introduced
me. I'm Teacher Gal, so I came to bug him. I tell th' Litany to any cub that
don' know it, be they Get, Gnawer, or Fang. He's wet behind the ears,
bigtime."

Salem says, rather ruefully, "Yes, he is. Still, as I told Jamethon, I give
the boy credit for backbone."

Kaz snorts. "Some cases, backbone and ten cents'll get you a cup of beer."

"Spine first. Wisdom later. Hopefully, not too /much/ later." There's almost
a note of humor creeping into Salem's tone at that. He glances moon-wards.
"In any case, I should be heading home."

"That'd be a plus, yeah..." Kaz looks up, herself. "Patrol, f'me. Catch you
later." The unspoken 'be careful' is, as usual lately, mostly in her eyes.

Salem touches two fingers to his temple in a kind of salute. "Be seeing
you," he says, and heads off down the street.