Youth and Wealth

[hazlogs]

It is currently 20:12 Pacific Time on Tue Oct 27 2015.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 51 degrees Fahrenheit (10 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 29.95 and falling, and the relative humidity is 92 percent. The dewpoint is 49 degrees Fahrenheit (9 degrees Celsius.) For more detail, see: http://www.wunderground.com/cgi-bin/findweather/getForecast?query=98501

Currently the moon is in the waning Full (Ahroun) Moon phase (100% full).

The Hub: Main Floor

The main floor of 'the Hub' is a spacious, almost sprawling room, with a two-story high ceiling and a large loft that looks out over the room itself, accessed via a winding metal staircase set at the opposite end from the heavy security door. One side of the floor is completely open, with a bank of windows facing north and offering a brilliant view of the city, especially at night. The other side contains a series of doors and doorways that lead into other rooms, large and small. One is clearly a kitchen (a very nice large kitchen with its own island and eating area), one is a bathroom, and one a repurposed conference room with a smaller central table than likely existed before, and comfortable rolling chairs that have clearly been reclaimed from various goodwill sources. Other rooms serve as storage, with one standing out as a well maintained server room, from which the local Walker server, various databases, and hardware responsible for the block's free wifi can be accessed.

The open floor itself sports several areas clearly designated for various purposes, though none have been walled off from the rest in any real fashion. One contains a comfortable, beat-up couch and armchairs arranged in a semi-circle around a large flatscreen TV and coffee table, another is a bank of multiple computers, each with their own desk and office chair, while a third is a modest exercise area mostly consisting of an open space of floor covered in a cushioned mat and several free weights. A number of monitors have been mounted on the wall next to the security door; the largest displays the area immediately on the other side of the door, with another showing the interior of the private elevator. The third and largest is split into sections, with one section dedicated to the sub-basement, another to the roof, and the others switching routinely between various parts of the interior and exterior of Maxwell Tower.

The moon is fat and heavy, but in spite of that--or perhaps because of it--the Hub has been quiet most of the day. Now with night fall the television has been turned on, volume kept at a very low hum, barely understandable. The person responsible isn't sitting in front of the boob tube, however; she's sitting in the exercise area in the process of stretching her left leg. Ghost's tension is easy enough to see, but so is her control. She must have arrived only a short while ago, she hasn't been here today otherwise.

Salem emerges from one of the guest bedrooms upstairs, where he's sequestered himself for most of the day doing who knows what. He looks shabby in sweatpants and t-shirt, the very picture of sullen adolescence. He leans against the loft railing, peering down into the main floor at Ghost.

Ghost seems occupied with her own thoughts. There's no sign that she notices his arrival, not immediately. She tucks her left leg in and extends her right. Nothing fancy, the most basic stretches. Her mouth is set into a thin line, and only when she's about done with that leg do her eyes tic up from the mat. "Mr. Salem." Her chin jerks toward the quietly humming television. "Is it bothering you? I can turn it off."

Salem wrinkles his nose. "Maybe you shouldn't do the 'mister' thing with me anymore. It sounds... off." He heads for the stairs, limping down to join her. "The television's fine. What're you watching?"

Ghost's eyebrows twitch just before she nods. "Yeah," she agrees. "Not the best idea, I guess." There's a glance spared for the television. "I'm uh, I'm not really sure any more." A beat. "To be honest, I wasn't really sure when I started."

The boy raises eyebrows. "Just wanted the background noise?" He glances over at the TV. "I don't blame you."

Ghost nods again. "It's nice to have one to turn on. I'm just not really into it tonight I guess. Hard to focus, too many commercials. And uh, and I don't really know what's on these days anyway." She finishes stretching her leg and tucks it in as well, so that she's sitting mostly cross-legged on the mat. "Nothing's changed for me so far, good or bad."

Salem exhales. "Well, that's not /bad/ news, at least." He sits on the weight bench nearby, stretching his legs out. "Are you still watching the park?" His tone is one of idle curiosity.

"Yeah." Ghost's eyes have returned to the mat, which is apparently fascinating by the way she's studying its surface. "Less in the Umbra, these days, because..." She lets her voice trail off, but makes a vague gesture with one hand.

Salem nods, idly scratching at his arm. "I don't blame you." He tilts his head, eyeballing the rogue Walker thoughtfully. "What do you think of Briari?"

Ghost's eyes move back to Salem, sidelong, and there's a long moment in which there's no answer from her, verbal or otherwise. Her body language seems as carefully controlled as her emotions at the moment. "She means well," she says, after a few moments. "We, uh, don't usually get along when we talk for any length of time though."

Salem shifts his weight, then hops off the bench and limps off a short way, pacing, restless. "She means well, yes. She has a lot of... very wild ideas. Half the time I don't know if she's serious or if I'm just over-cautious and paranoid. And sometimes..." He trails off, shrugs. "I don't know."

Ghost rests her arms on her knees. "I think she's usually serious," she replies. Her eyes follow Salem's pacing now, though it's not quite enough to be called staring. "But she doesn't always follow through. And, uh." Hesitation. "Well, that's probably good for everyone."

Salem nods, his expression distant, mouth set into a pensive frown. "She's /young/. I don't remember being that young, at least not like /that/. Obstacles don't seem to exist for her. Or consequences." He pauses, eyebrows going up like something's just occured to him. "I think I envy her."

At the first remark, something small cracks in Ghost's controlled demeanor--there might, maybe, have been the start of a grin there, but it's gone before anything happens to it. She looks and sounds entirely serious when she actually does respond. "I don't. But I wouldn't complain about having that much money." She seems to consider her own words almost immediately, as she says only a moment later, "but I think maybe I'm better without it anyway."

Salem turns his focus back to Ghost and gives a tight, guarded smile. "I grew up in a big house on a large acreage in Vermont. I don't know if we were /rich/, but we had horses and people to take care of them, and the house was big enough for family visits. Mostly from my mother's side." He rubs his chin. "When we moved overseas to where most of my /father's/ family was, again there was a large house, isolated, a lot of undeveloped land, people to take care of things. Mostly cousins." He pauses again. "...Money insulates. Even Garou."

"Horses," Ghost echoes as she shakes her head. "I, uh, I grew up in a warehouse, mostly. After the Purge anyway. It was okay. Good as my family could make it. I've heard stories about where metis grow up in the Nation, so no complaints. No real money though. Food was tight. Mostly it was dangerous, we ended up staying there too long."

Salem pushes his hands into his pockets. "Too long?"

Ghost nods once. "Years. It was the longest I ever stayed anywhere. We were careful, but eventually we got found out, so we had to run. Too uh, too comfortable in one spot, you know? After that we weren't really able to settle anywhere for very long. I think if we had multiple places and moved between them, it would've been better. Mmn. Impractical though, until I was taken care of."

"I think this is the longest I've slept in the same bed for some years," Salem says, glancing upward toward the loft. Then he looks back at Ghost. "I wish I could have met your family. I gather they were quite remarkable."

There, there's something around her mouth again, more of a vague, brief smile than a grin. There's no humor in it, but there might well be some gratitude. "Yeah," she says with quiet emphasis. "They stuck with me...we stuck together. You know? My father--adopted father, I mean--Elliot? I know what shit it was keeping me alive and safe, but he never left. Never gave up." What remains of the smile fades near the end as some thought seems to cross her mind, but she doesn't voice it. "Maybe you guys would've liked each other. I don't know."

Salem is quiet for a moment after this, then says, "I'm sorry," and starts back for the stairs. He pauses to glance back, at the still-murmuring TV and then Ghost. "Where are you staying, by the way?"

Ghost's expression, her body language, remain unchanged at the apology--solemn now--but she answers the question easily enough. "That place you showed me, sometimes. Emma let's me stay at her place too, it's quiet."

Salem nods, says, "Good," and heads back up the stairs, heading up to the roof.