you've completely forgotten your place.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The Brotherhood closed early tonight -- Jennifer Coltrane had a hot date with her man. Or a migraine. Lukas isn't sure which it is, but he doesn't mind. It affords him time in front of the dining room fireplace, in those wingback chairs that are occupied more often than not now by restaurant patrons.

Business has picked up here. People have heard about the Brotherhood -- good food at decent prices. Just watch out for all the scary people hanging around the place. And no, they don't mean the gangbangers and the thugs on the street, but the ones that seem to constantly be about in the building. The ones who might not necessarily carry guns or wear baggy clothing; the ones that might look human, might look affluent, might look civilized -- but give off the aura of serial killers.

There's a bottle of scotch on the small side table. It's Royal Lochnagar, which is 'his' brand if Lukas had a favorite. There's a glass beside it, with two fingers of amber liquid in it. Also, a plate of lamb kebab.

[Sam Modine] The bandages are fewer now and barely does the Fenrir have the smallest limp every few steps. His condition is improving, in fact he'd even managed to make it downstairs for breakfast before working through two full buckets of bleach and half a can of polish to get the stains up from the bare floor and up from the coffe table, he'd even sprayed down the furniture to make it smell at least like potpourri-blood-bleach in the room rather than simply the remainders of a three day old crime scene.

Nevertheless, the rug has been taken out to a cleaners where the proprietors don't speak the language and don't ask too many questions. It will be back in the morning. The rest of the furniture is exactly as it normally sits, freshly cleaned and with few permanent marks or stains from the incident. They'd gotten lucky that way. It's late when he finishes moving the large sectional sofa back into place and the full moon decides to head downstairs. The lack of bustle down here is noted and he heads for the refirdgerator and finds some simple ingredients and begins going about the cooking the way he'd been show only a few times by the staff in his helping out in the spare nights he could find in the absent moon.

Lukas will hear him in there distantly as he goes about the cooking alone in the kitchen, he'll smell beef and spices lightly accenting the air of the restaurant. He'll hear a knife on board and a fryer start. Before long there's the opening and shutting of cabinets, the running of water and clinking of dinnerware. Cleanup and serving, perhaps. Regardless he emerges with two plates held together on one hand while the other ducks beneath the bar and snags a pair of beers. It's when he stands up the corner of his eye darts to the outline of his packmate.

Sam turns to him in homid, bruised, and fairly severely. But his wounds are closed and he's not completely covered in bandages beneath the grey of his tshirt. He turns at this point, leading out of the bar cheesburger and fires first and approaches the shadow lord. Low, he asks. "May I sit?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The dining room is large. High, vaulted ceilings. Rustic, with a hint of Andalusian flair. Normally, filled with patrons, it doesn't seem so large, but when it's occupied by one Shadow Lord and one fire, it's cavernous. It's vast as the great hall of some half-crumbled castle.

Lukas's chair is turned to face the fire. The Ahroun is relaxed, slouching with his legs extended toward the mantle, his eyes shadowed and his mind a million miles away. It might be some trick of the light, but Sam could swear there was a hint of a smile at the very corner of his mouth.

It disappears as he sees the Modi. His eyes move; he doesn't turn his head. Looks at Sam for a moment, considering, and then nods.

[Sam Modine] "Alright." He sits down slowly. One of the plate is set in his lap as he takes his seat in the second of the wing backed seats the other is held in his hand as the beers are set at his feet on the floor. Feeding the beast it would seem that is the glabro metabolism he's been wearing the past few days. He cuts the the burger into slices, making it easier to simply pick up between two fingers.

For a time he just sits there in the large empty room, letting the firelight dance silently in front of the two of them. The ballet of a whole element in another world but in this one simply pretty lights. The burger is good and Sam is famished but he does take remarkable pains to eat slowly and to not dirty his clothing. After a few minutes though and the first drink of an opened beer washes through him as he breaks from his dinner and turns to his packmate.

"I heard a Godi say once that the new moon is the time for palaver, if you're interested."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The opening rejoinder makes Lukas's mouth twist faintly. The dark-haired Ahroun draws a breath, sits up a little, picks up his scotch and takes a swallow.

"If you want to talk," he says, low, "I'll listen."

[Gabbie Bellamonte] Earlier in the week, there had been an occurance, to say the least. Sunday night or Monday morning, depending on how you looked at it, after some series of events, Gabbie had gotten some food forced down with much encouragement on Caleb's part, then after some time she'd gone upstairs to an empty common room. She was awake until the sunlight came up and some eerie Hispanic woman she'd never seen before stalked by and out without a word or a sideways glance, then she knocked gently on doors, apologizing if they were occupied until she found a vacant room and slept in that bed. When she woke around 2pm the next day, she returned to the loft and had attempted to best go about her 'normal life' as she could.

But three days dragged, felt more like three weeks to her, and in that time the weight of how empty the very large Loft was and how lonely that made her feel began to splinter her shoulders and collarbone. So here she was in the evening, pulling up to the Brotherhood's employee parking lot and entering through the back door that opened into the kitchen. The smell of freshly cooked food tweeked her stomach some, and not in the best of ways, and after a mental toss of a coin she went out into the dining hall rather than moving up the stairs.

The kitchen door swung open and Gabbie slipped out into the half-lit, largely vaccant room. Her eyes went immediately to the bar, hunting for Danny's shining face, but she found it missing. Then peripheal vision caught flickering flame and large masculine figures set in chairs framing the fireplace. She looked over to them, got a better look of bodies and faces and identities, but did not approach. Rather she stood where she was, watching them, unsure of if she was intruding or not.

[Sam Modine] "Well..." His lips press together and his forehead furrows up in valleys. "I think I'm messing up lately and I want to do better." A french fry, still sizzling slightly on the outside is popped quickly into his mouth and devoured. The motion is repeated twice before he speaks again. He's not looking at Lukas so much as looking down at his plate only occasionally glancing up to signal the direction of the conversation.

"I'm sorry about the other night. Didn't mean for it to get so out of control." Once again he's into the cheeseburger, eating through two of the large slices while he gives the Lord his due chance at speaking.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The sound Lukas makes might be equal parts sigh and scoff.

"Sam," he says, levelly, "do you even know what you did? Or are you just apologizing because Mrena suggested you should try to make amends?"

[Gabbie Bellamonte] The room was very quiet, only words and the crackling of embers reached her ears. There was no background noise to jumble the words, make them voices in what may as well be another language, so she understood what was being said: I'm sorry. Do you know what you did? This wasn't something she should walk up to. So, instead, she adjusted the straps of the chocolate-colored backpack with circular pink and green designs on it over her shoulders and slinked over to the bar.

There, as quietly as she could be, she looked around for a glass, found one, and moved to the soda fountain. She had been doing a good job at being quiet and going largely unoticed up to that point, but when she scooped some ice into her cup and pressed it under the Dr. Pepper spout, it was impossible not to make any noises.

[Sam Modine] Sam just thinks for a moment, taking a long drink of beer and staring into the fire.

"I'm making amends because I want to. And I'm sure there are things I'm unaware of but...." He swallows, winces. Trades silence for memory in the next few moments his tongue pressing the inside of his lip lightly for only a second. "You had a pretty long list of reasons I'm a bad packmate the other night. I get that I've been you know.... not myself lately."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "You've completely forgotten your place," Lukas says: not angrily, but bluntly. "You're out of control. You no longer think yourself capable of error. We accused Caleb of hubris, but yours is astounding. It's completely blinded you. Ever since Ed drifted off, you've forgotten that this pack -- this Sept -- has a hierarchy.

"You seduced Kate's sister under her roof, without her permission. I don't care if you and Gabbie find comfort in each other," or if Gabbie hears, it seems, "but you should've at least had the good grace to ask Kate. To tell her. Not just because she's Gabbie's guardian, but because she's her sister.

"You disrespect Fosterns left and right. You act as though they were equal or below you in rank. Just because you can kick a Theurge's ass or a Fostern's ass in combat doesn't mean you get to ignore their achievements. They earned their rank, just as you did.

"And towards me -- you've lost all sense of proportion, Sam. You threatened me just before I throated you the first time. You told me outright, the night after the moot, that you didn't intend to take orders from me, and I told you I'd throat you again and run your ass out of the pack if you stepped out of line again. You ignore me when I speak to you. You ignore direct orders. A few days ago, you told me you didn't even recognize me as your Alpha.

"So I throated you again. And torn up all over the floor, you couldn't even bend your neck then. You weren't sorry. You didn't think you were wrong. You kept running your mouth. You told Mrena she didn't have to follow orders either. You told me you'd see me dead before you."

Lukas takes another swallow of his scotch. Then he sets it aside, leveling a direct look at Sam -- faintly baffled, faintly dismayed.

"I don't know how to bring you to your senses, Sam. When you fought with Andrew and Hatchet, I thought maybe you'd just made a few mistakes, so I protected you. Then I thought maybe you just needed a stronger Alpha, so I fought to bring Kate to the throne. Then I thought maybe in your mind might made right, so I kicked your ass a few times. But all this has failed to dispel this ... ego of yours. You're a promising young warrior, Mjollnir, but you are a Cliath, and third man at best in a young pack of five. You are not infallible, not perfect, and you are not above the hierarchy.

"If you can't understand that, then you're a loose cannon and a liability to all of us. And I don't see any alternative to cutting you out of this pack."

[Gabbie Bellamonte] Lukas went straight off the handle, but calmly. That makes no sense to most, but plenty to a girl who had grown up in a family of mental disorders and senses of pride, duty, heritage, honor, and self so strong that they would tear a person apart with teeth and tongue, but not physically, and be calm enough to apply make-up or trim their nails the entire time.

She flinched at certain points in that lecture/attack, but didn't turn around to look at the pair. Instead she took her cup to her lips, took a sip, and slinked out from behind the bar. A part of her thought about going upstairs, but that would defeat the purpose of her appearance here, wouldn't it? She came to avoid being alone, so why the hell would she go upstairs and sit alone on the couch, just to skim over a news channel playing a clip about advancements or road blocks in the particularly brutal triple homicide that occurred earlier in the week.

So, instead, she climbed up onto a barstool and sat, removing her backpack and setting it on the counter in front of the stool beside her. Silently evesdropping without really wanting to, she watched the carbonation send bubbles floating to the top of the glass only to pop with quiet fizzing noises. Gabbie did her best to blend into the counter, as well as a pretty young purebred Kin, one of only three people in the room, could.

[Sam Modine] "See," he begins picking apart a french fry and staring into it's inside before dipping it in the blob of catsup on the plate. He pops it into his mouth and chews heavily before finishing and going on. "Those are all things I already mesed up." Matter of fact that. "I can't fix any of it." He finally looks straight up at Lukas. "I can apologize, tell you I know I've been messing up and that I know it..."

He takes another drink, hydrating his mouth to speak.

"What I think we need to get to is," He waits a beat, letting each word hit in it's own time, "what can I do now to move forward. To fix this."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The glass is still in his hand. He tips it back and forth idly, half-forgotten. The firelight refracts through the amber.

"You've had chance after chance, Sam. Why don't you start by explaining why you think you deserve another one? And why should I believe things will be any different from here on out?"

[Sam Modine] "Well..." He furrows his brow and moves the half eaten food off his lap and beside him onto the table. "I think sometimes I don't get a fair shake. I think sometimes I get treated like maybe I'm not as smart as the rest of you, or that I'm just some sort of weapon or tool. I don't think it's fair." He sighs. " But that isn't the point, the point is I only want to do right by the three of you. And that I'll do what it takes to be righteous in the future." He sits up as he continues away from the brief meandering in the subject.

He nods. "To do well by you, by Mrena, by my name and the names of the ones we love. You have my word, which I've never broken for any man or monster." He's solemn, looking his packmate in the eye but indirectly. To be more precise his eyes settle on the other man's eyebrows while he speaks earnestly and slow in a voice to match Lukas's. "I'll rededicate myself to the totem. Hunt down the thing that got Mrena."

He stops, waits. His eyes goes to his shoes again as his face has flushed with color from the ambient heat of the flames in the room. "One hundred percent. Whatever it takes. From here on in I'll tow the line, do what you need me to."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Sometimes I don't get a fair shake, Sam says. Lukas frowns; he's still frowning even after Sam dismisses it, moves on, makes his promises.

When the Ahroun is finished, Lukas says, quietly: "Is that why you think I enforce the hierarchy? Because I consider you a tool to be kept in line?"

[Sam Modine] "No, I understand that a unit's discipline is a necessary part of it's function and vitality." He repeats long ago learned lessons again. "It just seems as though that's how you think of me sometimes."

The last two slices of the burger are eaten in four fast bites and he pokes at his french fries with little enthusiasm in between drinks of beer. He's just quiet like this for the longest time, not speaking not going any further against Lukas, though he'll listen intently to his packmate when he responds; for a minute Sam simply drowns in his own quiet.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Another silence. The Shadow Lord is still frowning; he's troubled and he's thoughtful, both.

The lamb kebabs are abandoned on their plate. One skewer has been eaten, the wood skewer lying forgotten on the plate. The rest -- three or four skewerfuls of lamb and peppers and onion -- are cooling slowly.

"I think more of you than you think I do," Lukas replies. He draws the last of his scotch and sets it aside. "But I think you think far more of yourself than you deserve at this point.

"I know you're not a fool, Sam. But combat prowess isn't everything. It certainly doesn't make up for lack of honor or wisdom, and it doesn't give you the right to ignore the pecking order. It doesn't give you the right to be a bully. You're supposed to use your strength to protect your weaker packmates and septmates -- not grind them into the dust."

[Gabbie Bellamonte] This conversation seemed to be on a slow slide downhill. Occasionally it would plateau, hit a flatline, but then it felt like it was slipping further. She shut her eyes and listened whenever they spoke, furrowed her brows a little every time Sam spoke and Lukas was silent, contemplating his response and whether it would be vocal or physical.

This was going to take a while.

With a faint sigh that was all breath and no voice, she pulled the backpac off the counter, slung it over her shoulder, and grabbed the Dr. Pepper in one hand. Her fanny slipped off the stool and she touched sneakers to the floor, then walked out of the dining hall and into the kitchen, not having said a word the entire time she was there, though she was sure that both men (if you could call them that) knew she was there. Instead she moved upstairs and into the room she'd slept in on Monday.

The backpack was tossed beside the bed, the glass of soda left on the desk beside it. She would talk to them later about why she had a few day's worth of clothes bundled tightly and neatly packed into the casual piece of luggage, explain her thoughts and motives when they weren't busy with pack politics. For now, though, she would slip off her shoes and leave on her hot pink extra soft socks, peel off her hoodie and hang it over the chair at the desk, and lay on the bed in her T-shirt and jeans. She'd spent every other night this week staring at the ceiling and counting the lumps of spackling, why not tonight as well?

[Sam Modine] "I'll do better," He inhales deeply, keeps his voice even and steady. Not in being careful, more in being comfortable in the rhythm of the words between the two of them. Like an old shoe, no matter how far apart they may find themselves...how far can they really ever get?

"I've never really thought of myself as a bully," This unsettles him greatly. The young man's face twists up in discomfort and he squirms about in his chair for a moment. "People don't really see me that way do they?" The concerned look goes to Lukas, not a little self conscious and much more thoughtful than he's seen in awhile. a reflection of the Sam of old in Sam healing on a night where the moon's gone dark.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "I'm starting to." Lukas has a policy of truth. Sometimes it's brutal. "Your packmates are probably starting to as well."

Then, another exhale, something like a sigh. And he picks up his plate at last and takes a kebab. And as he pulls the first chunk of lamb off with his teeth, he says, "Fine. If you want to stay in this pack, this is what the pack needs of you.

"First, apologize to Hatchet-rhya and anyone else you may of offended for your arrogance and your insubordination in the past. That includes Mrena.

"Second, go to Caleb and offer your apologies for poaching the kin of his tribe. Ask his permission to continue the liaison, if you intend to.

"Third. You're on probation. That means you rank dead last in this pack, below even Caleb, and you'll behave as befits the omega of a pack until further notice. If I ever catch you stepping out of line again -- and I don't just mean while I hold the Alphaship, but if and when Mrena takes over as well -- then that's it. You're gone.

"This isn't fair. This isn't nice. But you've had your chances and you blew them. If you fuck up this time, Sam, I won't even bother to listen to your apologies."

[Sam Modine] "I rather be dead last with the three of you than first among anyone else." The very last of the fries is covered save the tail end in catsup but he sets it down to finish answering without food in his mouth. He brushes his blonde hair out of his face and locks eyes with the the other man.

"It's done."

The rest of that meal is finished now and Sam stacks the plates together, leaning back in the chair much the same way Lukas has. Since he's finished his brandy Sam hands over the second of the two black and tans to his packmate. "I think though we can prevent this if we talk more." He sips at his own beer and stares int of he orange heat that splashes both with colors that don't belong to them. "We don't have Katherine to balance us out for awhile so perhaps we should work harder at not needing to do this anymore." He lets that sit, the thought. Lets it move around and saturate, become a goal, a to-do. Sam's one to check off his to-dos.

"One more thing, new subject. Business, more than anything."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] It's done, Sam says. Lukas looks at him for a long moment, his pale eyes flicker between the Modi's as though searching for -- what? Some sense of falsehood; some sense that this is all an elaborate scheme, a game, a pretty apology for the sake of saving one's ass.

Finally, a slight nod, once. "It's done," he replies.

And then, while Sam speaks, Lukas eats his lamb kebabs. He takes the beer as it's handed over, but sets it on the table, unopened for now. Sam has a new subject -- Lukas makes a slight hand gesture that means, Go on.

[Sam Modine] "I've been pulling late recon with the Uktena girl, Soledad." He begins. "Before I left on my trip and then a couple times since I got back. A place in china town, there's some serious Wyrm activity in the basement or underneath the place but we haven't gotten close enough to figure out precisely what yet."

He clears his throat and gives Lukas his attention as he finishes.

"When the time comes, soon she's talking about making a move on it..." His eyebrows raise. "I think we should help them. She and Buried-Hatchet, I mean. Whatever's down there isn't small, I know we've been rivals in the past but I think we should put that aside. It's going to be dangerous and they could use it." He's finished as noted by his taking the final drink of his beer and setting it next to his empty plates for transport out when he gets up. "What says you, Lukas?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Hatchet-rhya's an honorable Garou. Perhaps he could've handled the Bellamonte feud better; but. Past and done now." One thing to be said for Lukas: he doesn't seem to hold on to past grudges. When they're past they're past; he moves on.

It doesn't mean he forgets. It won't mean he'll forgive again, if it comes to that.

Still. He continues, "We'll definitely help them."

[Sam Modine] "Good, I'll tell her tomorrow. I should be fit to be back out on patrol by then." he replies. The rest of it, the things about hatchet and about the rift with Ed and with Katherine he merely listens to. He doesn't say anything, doesn't give anything away. Honestly it's as if he thinks nothing at all on the subject.

"I should go to bed. And you too. We have a long weekend ahead of us."

He stands, the whole frame of him seeming to unfold and unravel out of the chair and skyward in the empty place. It's liek he could take off into the air over here as well, as though he expects to before gravity rips at him. "I'll see you in the morning." With that he's grabbing his dishes and waiting for Lukas to give him leave.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas nods -- but as Sam stands, he speaks up again.

"Just out of curiosity," he says, "and not as your Alpha, or even your Beta -- what do you intend to go with Gabriella?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (ahem. WHERE. WHERE do you intend to go.)

[Sam Modine] "I don't know." He looks to the floor. "It happened very suddenly, too much too think about what we were doing, perhaps." He trails off still standing there. "I put it on hold weeks ago until I could speak with her brother and sister, but they've disappeared somewhere and I don't know how to reach them."

The Fenrir's downcast features are almost sullen at the prospect. "In a perfect world I'd simply claim her as my own and take a mate, as right as it feels with her sometimes." There's more though, an explanation or a forthcoming caveat. "But I don't do her honor or her name any favors by acting out of turn, or allowing her to do the same. So," he bites his lip and raises his eyebrows. "I suppose I'll need to find a solution soon."

It's not much of an answer, but it's the truth and it's what he's got.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas cocks an eyebrow at Sam. And what he says would be obvious, a no-brainer -- if they weren't what they were.

Territorial beasts. Warriors of Gaia. The products of a chauvinistic world, where the rights of kin were as good as worthless.

Still: "Why don't you ask her what she wants?"

[Sam Modine] "I have." That's all he can give right now, as much of Gabriella's space as he'll allow himself to violate.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas considers the Modi a moment. Then he decides not to pry.

"All right." He finishes his skewer of lamb and sweet peppers; sets the stick down. "I'm glad we had this talk, Sam. But don't forget what was said."

[Sam Modine] "Me too." He nods, still waiting on his feet next to the seat with the remnant of dinner still stacked and balanced in one hand.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (annnnd cut!)