Missing Person

[hazlogs]

7/23/02

Currently the moon is in the waxing Full Moon phase (86% full).

Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 91 degrees
Fahrenheit (32 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the
north at 8 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.81 and falling, and
the relative humidity is 29 percent. The dewpoint is 55 degrees Fahrenheit
(12 degrees Celsius.)

Location: Jeremy's Apartment.


Salem's customary double-knock is heard on Jeremy's door.

Quentin's head lifts from where he's playing yet another game on the
entertainment center, pausing and pushing himself up to his feet before
walking along towards the apartment door. A quick check to see who it is,
and then he unlocks the door and pulls it open before stepping back.
"Hey."

"Evening, Quentin," says the Philodox coolly as he enters. There's a
definite tension in his body language, though for the moment it's tightly
controlled. He eyes the video game. "Keeping busy?"

As he enters, Quentin backs up a step or two from the door to give him
room to enter.. or maybe just to keep clear of him. "Yeah, mostly," he
says in quiet tones, raising one hand to rake back through his mussed
hair, "Just sorta killing time right now. Kaz said she was going to give
me some tips on that.. changing stuff, but she hadda go before she could,
last night.

Salem grunts an acknowledgement, shrugging out of his jacket. "Most cubs
find it easier, at least at first, to change by focusing their rage.
Others by simply imagining themselves a wolf and exerting their will to
make the imagining a reality."

Quentin's gaze follows the jacket for a moment, then falls down to the
sweats he's wearing. "..I could kinda use some new clothes, too, just as a
side note. Sweatsuit.. not exactly a fashion statement." A slight tip of
his head then, and he frowns down at himself, "I guess I should give it a
try again. Uh.. someone mentioned there's five different things we can
turn into?"

"Practical, though," Salem notes blandly, settling himself onto the couch
with an air of false relaxation. "Yes, five forms, including the one you
were born in, homid, and the half-man, half-wolf form of the berserker,
crinos. The others are called glabro, the near-man, hispo, the dire wolf,
and lupus, the wolf."

Quentin purses his lips just a bit as he considers, and finally says with
a slight tilt of his head, "I think I've seen all of those but the.. hispo
one."

Salem arches a brow, mildly surprised but not displeased. "Let's correct
that, then, first of all," he says, and gets to his feet again and, in an
effortless twist of bone and flesh, expands upwards into crinos and then
drops to all fours, taloned hands melting into paws and the whole body
becoming more firmly quadrupedal.

At the very least, this time Quentin had some warning.. so he doesn't jump
completely out of his skin, just backs up a few slow steps as Salem's
flesh erupts upwards and then outwards. A slight quickening of breath for
a moment as he forces himself to relax, swallowing once before taking a
closer look over the massive dire wolf before him.

The pony-sized Salem-wolf gives himself a quick shake and then advances on
the cub, padding forward with complete self-confidence, head and tail held
high.

Quentin drops back another step, nearly tripping over the tangled cords of
the game controllers as he edges further away from the threatening
presence of the giant wolf padding towards him. "Okay.." A hint of
nervousness in his voice, eyes growing darker as he continues to back up,
"..I've seen it. You can change back now.."

Salem stops dead, his body language quizzical, with just an edge of
exasperated scorn leaking through. But he shifts back to human form, the
reversion to breed taking far less time than the transformation from it.
His expression is completely composed, betraying only the vaguest hint of
irritation. "I'm not going to _bite_ you, Quentin."

Quentin's lips purse tightly for a moment as he regards Salem as he shifts
back to human form.. and his brows draw together a bit. "Yeah, right," he
says dubiously, "How the hell do I know that? You broke my fingers.. Jacob
said one of you guys shot him.. how'm I supposed to know when you're going
to decide to beat on me some more?"

A knock is heard at the door.

"_One_ finger," Salem corrects tersely. "And that to help you achieve your
first change. The faster that was done, the better. Jacob was shot to
demonstrate to him that his body could _take_ such damage and not only
live, but not be long inconvenienced by it. His teacher, Francisco, took a
bullet first." That said, he stalks over toward the front door and opens
it a notch. The half-moon directs a frown at the umfamiliar face. "Yes?"

Benedict looks around Salem for a second, glancing into the apartment.
"Hey there Salem, the master of the house home?"

Salem's eyes narrow, a bit suspiciously. "...No, he isn't. Do I know you?"

Quentin, who was about to say something, drops silent again.. and he
simply watches the door, and Salem, since that's all he can see.

Benedict blinks a second and gives a sudden expression of remembering.
"Ah, yes. We haven't really met yet, just knew you from my sister's
description." He offers his hand to the Walker cliath, "Benedict Jackson,
Alicia's brother. Some call me Clocktower, but it ain't quite like you
all's names for each other."

Salem's tension eases back a notch as the young man introduces himself.
"Ah. I see." He grasps the kin's hand for a moment, then opens the door
further and steps back to let him in. "Pleasure to meet you."

Quentin tips his head a bit to one side, craning his neck to see who it
is.. relaxing a bit more from his wary stance, he moves slowly back
towards the couch to try and catch a look at the visitor.

Benedict looks over Salem a moment then steps inside through the offered
open doorway. "You too, though I feel like I know Synthesis already. She's
quite in love with all of you, you know... like the family we never had a
chance to have." Benny then tilts his head around noticing Quentin. "You
though... have no idea who you are."

Salem closes the door behind his packmate's brother, his gaze following
the new arrival steadily. "Go ahead and introduce yourself," he says, with
a brief glance at the cub.

Quentin slants a look back towards Salem as he's asked to introduce
himself, lips curving in a slight and faint smile before he looks back
towards Benedict for a moment. "I'm Quentin. Glass Walker, ah, cub." A
pause, and then he remembers to add, "Galliard, they say they think."
Another look at Salem, as though he's afraid he did it wrong.

Benedict gives the cub a golf clap and a calm smile. He gives Salem an
uneasy glance to finish off the smile almost seeming to move unconsciously
away from Salem towards the couch. "Know when J-Dog will be back?"

Salem gives the cub a sharp nod of something that, in his current dour
mood, resembles approval. He takes only a few steps from the door, arms
folding across his chest. "I've no idea, unfortunately."

The door has barely been closed for a few minutes before more knocking is
heard.

"I think he's been avoiding the place," Quentin says, relaxing a bit and
even smiling slightly at the seeming approval before settling back onto
the couch again, "It's been kinda.. crowded. Lately."

Salem, at that, pauses in mid-step, jaw clenching slightly, and then turns
back to answer the door again. Rhiannon, however, receives a more
receptive first response than Benedict did; he actually inclines his head
to the US Marshal as he opens the door for her. "Good evening."

"Hey," Rhiannon says by way of greeting. "I bring news, most of it
annoying."

Benedict nods to Quentin, then glances to the door as it is knocked upon
and opened. He offers just to Quentin, "Yeah, part of why I came over. I
heard he wanted to move into another apartment a while back, but needed a
room mate. Was wondering if this was still the case." With this he settles
on the couch Quentin isn't on, looking over the back of the furniture
towards the new arrival, intrest painted on his face.

Salem exhales a breath. "Rains and pours," he says ruefully, crossing back
to the couch where he'd draped his jacket. "More about Rina's, ah,
'friend'?"

Rhiannon steps into the apartment, and waves hello to Quentin, answering
Salem. "No, this is about the new guy." Her posture alters oh-so-slightly
when she spies Benedict, whom she doesn't know. "Who's this?" she asks
Salem, indicating the other with a nod of her head.

Quentin lifts one hand, fingers wriggling in a slight wave to the kin as
she walks in. "Hey, Rhiannon.." A pause, then, as he looks around the room
a bit with a frown. "..there's someone newer than me?"

Salem turns an eye toward Benedict, unsmiling. His voice is even and
sounds perfectly calm, however, as he says, "This is Alicia's brother
Benedict. Gaian kin."

Benedict offers a charming smile and a half nod towards the new woman.
"Rhiannon," he says in greeting as if testing the word for its weight,
"What Salem said. Nice to meet you."

Rhiannon nods to Benedict, apparently willing to take Salem at his word,
noting his not-enthusiatic introduction. Quentin's question earns the cub
a grimace, and she replies, "No, you are the new guy. Until we get another
new guy, anyways."

Quentin's brow furrows just a bit then, his head tilting a little as he
asks cautiously, "Do I want to know what this 'annoying news' about me
is?" He says that in a 'is someone going to shoot me?' sort of tone.

Salem settles down onto the couch, stretching his legs out and crossing
them at the ankles. "Calm down, Quentin, please," he says with a hint of
irritation.

Benedict nods to Quentin at this point. "Yeah. Last thing Roger would have
wanted was a cub to frenzy on his couch and tear the leather, I'm sure."

Rhiannon sighs, and reassures Quentin. "Nothing you did yourself, don't
worry." She seems ready to continue, but instead stops and looks at
Benedict, then Salem. She's hesitant to continue.

Quentin casts a slightly sullen glance in Benedict's direction, saying
quietly, "I never met Roger. And I /am/ calm." Sure he is. Cool as ice, is
Quen. Rhi's words seem to relax him some, then, and he nods over a little.

Salem glances from Quentin to Rhiannon, notes her expression, and reins in
his natural prickliness. "Please go ahead, Rhiannon," he says.

Benedict seems to have picked up easily already on all the dodging going
on around him, and finally his expression sobers. "Damn it. I'm kin to you
all, just blood related to my sister and through her the Children of Gaia.
You want me to leave because something is too 'sensitive' for me to hear,
sure, whatever. But don't look at me like I could be your enemy. I know
all about what has happened recently, I'm here to help. However I can." He
stares at Rhia for a few moments now. "Accept it, or don't. Doesn't matter
much to me, just don't be...like that."

Rhiannon eyes Benedict once he's concluded his speech, her eyes narrowed.
"You know, you being Kin is great and all, but I don't discuss Tribal
business in front of non-Walkers without permission." Her voice is even
and almost infuriatingly calm.

Benedict cracks am eerie smile and a shrug. "That's your business,
obviously. Go on."

Quentin purses his lips slightly at Benedict's words, and Rhiannon's
retort.. looking, rather than wary at how this might turn out, somewhat
curious for some reason. A flicker of green eyes to Salem, to see what his
reaction will be.

Salem's irritation creeps back into his expression, but the Walker remains
seated on the couch with his arms folded. "Enough. Rhiannon has a point.
Benedict, I apologize, but do you mind stepping out? Jeremy may not be
back until quite late."

Benedict grins towards Salem now, and was expecting that. "Thank you
Salem." He says, quite sincere, "This was my point exactly." With this he
stands and heads outside.

Rhiannon watches Benedict go, a little regretful. "Sorry, I'm not trying
to foster, like, inter-Tribal issues, just wasn't sure if this was a public
info session." With that general apology, more directed to the absent
Benedict than anyone else, she finally gets on with it. "Quentin's family
have reported him missing. He's on today's watchlist for missing teens.
The problem is, because there was no note and nothing was
missing--clothes, that sort of thing--they're considering it for foul
play."

Quentin's nostrils flare ever so slightly in a snort at that news, as he
observes rather dryly, "I told you they would." A shift against the couch,
his head resting against its back as he listens to see what they're going
to do now. He's been doing a lot of that, just watching reactions to
things and letting everyone else talk rather than ask questions.

Salem pinches at the bridge of his nose. "...Of course." He glances
briefly at the cub, then turns his attention back to Rhiannon. "When did
the report come in?"

"Just today," Rhiannon confirms. "I think we may have a few days grace
period to pull something off. Fran mentioned maybe a feigned death, and I
like the concept but I think it might draw unwanted scrutiny. We might be
better off having someone sneak into the house. They can grab some stuff
and leave a good-bye note." She now looks at Quentin. "Written by yours
truly so they cops think it's legit and we at least avoid the crap that
goes with a kidnapping investigation."

A shift where he sits, and Quentin leans forwards with a hint of eagerness
in his manner. "Really? So I could, maybe, get some of my stuff back from
my room...?" That sounds better than being dead, really. Even just on
paper, it's creepy.

Salem mutters, "And less distasteful than procuring a corpse to play
stand-in."

"Exactly," Rhiannon agrees with Salem. "It can't be you, Quentin, because
they'll be watching for that. We'll need to have someone fairly good at
B&E, and you can give them a list." She chews on her lip thoughtfully.
"Unless any of our Tribe qualify, we may need to ask around." The marshal
doesn't list the obvious candidates, given the moon's phase and Salem's
proximity.

Quentin wrinkles his nose a bit, suggesting, "They'd probably look for
fingerprints to see if someone else has been in my room, wouldn't they..?
Or maybe not, I don't know how real police stuff works." A hand raises to
scratch back through his hair, "..it'd be nice to have some clothes again,
though."

"Whoever it is can break in through the spirit world," Salem notes to
Rhiannon, glancing up at her. "The moon will be good for it for several
days."

Rhiannon can't resist waggling her eyebrows at Quentin. "Well, someone
good enough won't leave any evidence," she tells the cub, conveniently not
specifying what 'enough' entails. Salem's suggestion earns him a nod.
"That can work. We just need someone to do it, and a list of what to get."

Quentin just blinks a little back towards Rhiannon, as though utterly
uncertain how to take that eyebrow-waggling, before giving his head a
shake to dismiss it. "Yeah.. yeah, I can do that tonight if you want.
There's not much I'd take if I left anyway, so, won't be too hard to
figure. What kinda note do you want?"

Salem thinks for a moment, frowning. "The quicker this is done, the
better. Tomorrow night is the moot, which I hope to take both you _and_
Jacob to, Quentin, so let's say Wednesday night. I'll go."

Rhiannon considers the question of the note for some time, before
answering. "Make it pretty final. And try to deter them from looking for
too long. You know them better than we do, so you'll know what works. If
they won't go for nice and simple, then get mean. If mean is certain to
spur them on, be gentle. Whatever will work." Her voice becomes rather
insistant as she says, "*Please*, please, don't make it sound like a
suicide note, or a kidnapping note. That'll attract attention."

"I could make it sound like I'm going back to Duluth to look for my dad,"
Quentin proposes, raising an eyebrow a bit and looking between the two as
though for approval on the idea, fingers drumming lightly against my knee,
"That could be plausible. And it'd get them looking out of town instead of
in town.." He trails off, then, and blinks, "Moot?"

"A gathering of Garou," Salem explains. "A meeting of the entire Sept. Are
your parents apt to contact your father to get you back?"

Rhiannon snaps her fingers and points at Quentin. "Excellent." It's the
only thing she has to say on the idea, but she does answer his question.
"A Moot is, well, a meeting. Usually only Garou attend. So many of you
all, near a full moon, on the Bawn--too much for the Kin." There only a
little regret in her voice, and no bitterness.

"I don't think my mom's seen him since before I was born," Quentin says
with a slight frown, fingers drumming against his knee, "She never told me
anything about him, was always pretty close-mouthed about it." Another
look between them, and he blinks a second time, "You mean I'll actually be
getting /out/ of here for once?"

There a strumming on the door from outside.

"Yeah, so watch yourself," Rhiannon warns him, very little humor in her
voice. "Make sure to show proper respect and submission to *any* Elder.
Some of them can get pretty damned pissed about the chain of command
thing."

Salem's mouth twitches into the thinnest of smiles. "Escorted, but yes."
He catches the note in Rhiannon's voice and looks somewhat rueful himself.
Then his eye goes sharply toward the door.

Rhiannon regards the door ominously, but remembering that Benedict might
still be outside, she walks over and opens it slightly.

Quentin briefly catches his lower lip between his teeth, worrying at it
for a moment before slanting a look back over towards Salem and asking
sheepishly, "So, uh.. what passes for proper respect? I don't want to say
the wrong thing."

Salem considers the cub for a moment. "To be perfectly safe, hesitate
before speaking, keep your voice polite, and unless someone is a cub like
yourself, don't initiate staring contests. And stay close to your fellow
Glass Walkers."

Alicia glances up at Rhiannon, raising a brow. "Aren't you a bit too old
for Jeremy?"

Quentin nods slowly at Salem's instructions as he leans down against his
knees on his elbows, "Okay. That sounds easy enough, I guess.."

Rhiannon manages to not smile at the the joke, but it's a near thing.
"Haven't you ever heard of Mrs. Robinson?" she responds dryly, one of her
eyebrows arching. She also doesn't open the door any further, although she
does seem to be trying to put a name to the face before her.

"You'll do fine," Salem tells Quentin, before turning his attention toward
the doorway. "Alicia?"

Perking her attention, Alicia peers past Rhiannon. "Yo. Dude... what
th'fuck? Party at Jer's house and ya'll didn't invite me?" She smirks and
glances to the older woman. "I'm with him." She says pointendly.

Salem explains to Rhiannon. "The token non-Glass Walker of Synthesis.
Alicia Jackson." He eyes the Gaian. "Your brother was here earlier, by the
way."

Rhiannon gives Alicia a final once-over before stepping back and opening
the door further to allow her (and anyone she might have brought) inside.

Quentin leans over slightly to look towards the doorway, a wan smile
offered back to the woman and one hand raising in a slight wave-salute
against his brow. "Hi," he says simply enough, "I'm Quentin." The greeting
offered, he shifts back against the leather of the couch, arms folding
loosely across his chest.

Salem's description seems good enough, and Rhiannon's rather chilly
countenance finally fades into something a little warmer. "Rhiannon
MacKenzie. Walker Kin, and doorstop."

"Yo. Guards-The-Flame, Moondancer for the Children of Gaia, inspiration
and all that shit. Kicks-The-Wyrm's-Ass as per lately." Alicia grins
slightly and nudges Salem's shoulder as she moves to him. "Packie
ta'Synthesis, and total roach lover."

Salem smiles faintly at the Gaian, though the warmth of the expression is
rather curdled by lunar tension. "Indeed." He squints at her. "You _do_
have a brother, yes? Named Benedict?"

Oh, right. "I'm, ah, just a Glass Walker cub, and a Galliard," Quentin
adds quickly to his introduction, lips twitching in a faint smile as he
continues, "Of no particular other titles whatsoever just yet."

Alicia nods her head. "That is my twin brother, actually. He was here?
Fuck.. man.." She trails off, sighing. "I was hoping to catch him.."

"He was looking for Jeremy," says the Philodox. "Who is, unsurprisingly,
out."

Reluctantly, Rhiannon adds, "He may be a little put out. We had to discuss
Tribal things."

Alicia furrows her brows some. "Oh. I see..." She trails off, then glances
back to the door. "Well, I'll catch up with him later I suppose. He and I
got a lot of stuff to talk about. I'm ganna see if I can hook him up with
some Garou'ee, stuff and get 'em ta'help out."

Salem nods, giving a glance to his watch. "Anything in particular that
he's interested in?"

"Yeah, I can use as many eyes and ears out there as I can get," Rhiannon
murmurs.

Alicia shrugs her shoulders. "He is a manager at McDonald's, he likes
football." She smirks. "And he's willing to do whatever it is to help us
out."

Salem pushes to his feet, grabbing his jacket as he does so. "Give him my
number," he tells Alicia. "The _apartment_ number, not the cell."

Rhiannon hmmmms. "He may actually see more than he's aware of. Can you do
me a favor?" The question is directed at Alicia, and the marshal pulls out
a rather simple business card. "Give him this, if you see him before I do.
If he sees anything, I mean strange, or note-worthy on a police level, he
can call the cell. I always answer that."

Alicia nods her head to both, sliding the card into her pocket. "Aiight. I
can do that." She glances to Salem and grins. "Taking off big guy? Have a
good one."

Quentin's head lifts as it seems that Salem's about to leave, and he
offers a slightly wan smile over towards him. "Ah.. see you tomorrow, I
guess, Salem."

Rhiannon gestures toward the door. "I'm afraid I need to get going as
well. Can use the sleep."

Salem nods. "Early to bed, et cetera." He gives another of those thin,
tense smiles, and then nods to Quentin. "Wear a pair of good shoes and
something you don't mind getting dirt on. The moot will be in the middle
of the woods."

Alicia nods her head at that, letting out a soft breath. She looks to
Quentin, then slugs him playfully in the shoulder. "Well, I guess you are
stuck with me."

"...I don't have any shoes," Quentin says with a slight furrow of his brow
at that request, glancing down at the grey sweats that he's wearing, "I
don't even have /clothes/ outside of these sweats, I mean.." The punch to
his shoulder breaks him off in mid-stream, derailing his thoughts as he
offers back over a slightly wry smile, "Or vice versa?"

Salem shrugs into his jacket, eyeing both cub and packmate. "Maybe you can
Dedicate something for him, Alicia?" he suggests, and then opens the door,
letting Rhiannon exit first.

Rhiannon waves a goodnight to Quentin and Alicia. She reminds the cub,
"Don't forget the letter," before preceding Salem out the door.

Alicia grins at Quentin. "I can do that for him, definitly. Good night you
two. Be -good.-"

Quentin raises one hand in that wave-salute again, and then looks
curiously back towards Alicia. "'Dedicate'?"

Salem snorts. "Naturally. Be seeing you." Then he exits, leaving the Gaian
to explain.