great first impression.

[Park] By all accounts, Thursday is the new Friday. Whatever that is supposed to mean. The calendar in Room 4 says that Thursday is Thursday is the night before the new moon; there is a Rotagar living in the Brotherhood who is supposed to be able to use her voice again then, but the wavy-haired Half Moon living several rooms down from the Sentinels is not looking for Josephine Oliver, and she's not hunting tonight.

Last night, she had. She had found nothing. It was discouraging, but the moon overhead had not been heavy enough to renew her inner store of ferocity by a simple glance. There was too much cloud cover tonight for it to do any such thing.

Yet Covered Sky is still a frightening creature to those who have very little in the way of control over themselves and their baser urges, and she has a dangerous edge as she sits at a table overlooking the North Michigan skyline. She is alone, an empty armchair parked across the coffee table from her, and she seems perfectly at ease with this state of affairs. Her dress is just classy enough to be considered as part of the clientele at this establishment: black ballerina flats, a heavy black skirt, and a black thermal shirt without a bra. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and she does not wear makeup or jewelry. She doesn't need to. It gets in the way.

She's drinking a Manhattan because it's the cheapest cocktail on the menu. Slim, unpainted fingers twirl the cherry around the ice-filled glass by the stem, almost meditative in her mindfulness. They're piping smooth jazz through the speakers on the 96th floor of the John Hancock Center, and if she's listening to it, she's doing so quietly.

[OOC: We are here! https://www.signatureroom.com/Signature-Lounge/ ]

[Kate] The last occasion that Katherine Bellamonte had had to be at the Signature Lounge, she had been drinking her sorrows away after she'd been forced to cast off her sibling from her tribe and her family. She had also been alone for a large portion of the evening before her pack-mates discovered her and with a mixture of tutorship, convinced the Half Moon that her self pity would get her nowhere at all.

After that night, it had been some time before Truth's Meridian had the time to return to the pretty, pretty views out the windows of the up-market establishment in the John Hancock Center.

Katherine enjoyed the place because it was 96 stories above everything else and she did appreciate heights -- she was singular to most she knew for this fondness. She also enjoyed it because it was quiet, most evenings, with only the sort of company that a young woman like Katherine Bellamonte would find pleasing. Would find, if not quite on a par with her level of sophistication, at least very near to it.

She arrives some time after Covered Sky, her winter's coat taken at the door and leaving the Silver Fang dressed in immaculate white slacks and a rather lovely soft cashmere sweater, a black belt was fitted around her waist and matched the heels on the Philodox's feet. Her waves of gold hair had been left out and fell becomingly around her neck and shoulders.

She pauses, the newly-made Fostern, when she glimpses the other Half Moon and with a small quirk of her lips takes herself over to Park's table.

"May I join you?"

[Park] The Cliath does not, in her interactions with the Garou of the Nation, carry herself like someone who is used to being referred to as '-yuf' by other Cliaths. She does not seem like someone who is still unsure of her place within their society, who needs to be told where to go and what to do, what actions to take; there is no wariness in her form when she is at the spiritual epicenter of their city, as though she does not understand the significance or the power of a Caern. She makes eye contact for just as long as is comfortable or respectful before addressing another person's forehead or chin. She knows the law backwards and forwards, knows it so well that she can almost present other tribes' versions of the truth without faltering or flummoxing.

Yet she holds no Sept offices. She holds no eldership of any sort. She is, for all the straightness of her spine and assuredness of her actions, a Cliath. There are only two people still in this city who have any idea why that could be.

Covered Sky is willing, even eager, to act as an impartial mediator or a judge for disputes and council matters here in the city, but she is not in quite as large of a hurry to open up to those who she helps. Thus far she and Truth's Meridian, who has called upon her twice for assistance with legal matters, have spoken perhaps a dozen words to each other.

And then there she is, sharply dressed and near luminescent despite the darkness of the sky overhead. The world is colorfully lit by neon, by bulbs; the sum total of the wattage put out into the city is reflected by the cloudy sky as a blanket of pink, giving the landscape an otherworldly feel to it. The Lord pulls her attention away from it sharply, her nostrils briefly flaring with the scent of Kate's perfume--not heavy enough to overpower her breeding; perhaps nothing can do this--before she smiles and gestures to the armchair across from her with the hand that had been stirring her ice with the cherry.

"Please," she says. Once Kate has seated herself, Park goes on, "I heard about your recent accomplishment. Congratulations."

[Kire] 94, 95, 96, and ding, the elevator door opened. Out of it stepped a man who, while dressed in casual clothes which were neither fancy nor vagrant-looking either, looked out of place. Almost like a caveman in the middle of a modern city, and in some ways he was, he felt more than slightly uncomfortable and uneasy about the place. Having grown up in a war-torn country and spending most of his adult life in and out of battlefields, as well as being new to this whole Garou society thing as a whole, the man by the name of Kire was not used to living in civilization, let alone a fancy place like this. Never in a million years would he have dreamt he'd ever set foot in a restaurant this fancy.

He paced himself carefully, walking as calmly and (un)naturally as he could towards a waiter, he dropped the name of the woman he was here to meet. Someone by the name of Katherine Bellamonte. The people at the Caern had given him a name and told him where to go, supposedly, to meet one of the Elders of the Silver Fang tribe, as well as Elder Philodox here. It was a matter of introducing himself properly to the people of importance in the city.

As he waited for the waiter to lead him to a table, as he'd apparently recognized the name and the woman was indeed in, Kire mused of the fight he'd lost earlier that day, a woman not that much smaller than him but probably half his age, he didn't even know her name, rank nor auspice, but he'd been beaten almost completely. They'd traded blows equally for a while before it swung her way completely, and the pain in his kidney was still there, though luckily no bruises were obvious in his current clothes so he could avoid strange looks.

[Kate] Katherine had been, it could be said, very fortunate in her upbringing. She had never not known what her parentage was, what her blood-line meant, why her father's mere presence frightened her senses so and why, one day that seemed in no way superior to any other, her father did not return home.

At the age of six, she'd been presented in the Court of the Queen of her mother's family, and curtsied prettily for the patroness of House Gleaming Eye. She was reared between two continents and was bilingual by the time she reached her eighth birthday.

She was a monster by her eighteenth.

Truth's Meridian had never had so much trouble with her place among Garou society; she knew her role well enough, even as a Cub and then as a Cliath seemed only to bloom as she discovered where her talents and her obligations lay. She has been, perhaps here too, fortunate. The first pack she was a part of was still her pack today -- if re-named and beneath a new totem.

Two of her original pack-mates remain within it, alongside herself.

So, when Covered Sky offers her congratulations regarding her latest accomplishment within the world she's been reared since childhood to become an important part of, Katherine merely smiles in her pretty, polite way and inclines her head in unspoken thanks.

"I admit to a degree I still feel as if it was some dream, not reality, I--"

A waiter approaches the table and the Half Moon turns to check him with her eyes; he flusters and turns to gesture to Kire. "Pardon the intrusion, ladies, but that man seems to know your name, says he's looking for you. Shall I show him over?"

Katherine frowns, and flicks a glance at the other Half Moon.

"You may do so, and if you would be so good, a dry Martini for myself."

[Kire] Soon after, the waiter returned, he had received his instructions and began to lead the strange, out-of-place man to Katherine's table. He seemed to be afraid of Kire for some reason as he didn't seem to want to look him in the eyes or at all if possible. However, that was to be expect, even if you took away the strange and dangerous atmosphere around Garou, he would still seem dangerous, something about the way he carried himself, spoke, and acted, he was a veteran soldier after all. It was a short time until he was finally at Katherine's table, though now unease struck again, harder than ever.

He knew she was a member of the Silver Fangs, and he knew it was she obviously, as well as her name, but he had no idea of her appearance. He'd have to guess carefully between the two, and hope deep down, that not only was he right but that they didn't notice what he was doing. For now, though, he bowed curtly and introduced himself, hopefully she'd show herself before he had to result to guessing games.

"I am Kire Gustarf, Cliath Ahroun of the Glass Walkers," he spoke with utmost respect, but his accent some times got in the way of his words, it was fairly obvious he wasn't from around here or anywhere nearby for that matter. Luckily, after the mishap with the woman at Chinatown the other night, he'd made sure not to make the mistake of confusion Galliards with Ahrouns again, he was sure he wouldn't get off a second time if he made that mistake.

[Kate] The waiter leads the Ahroun urrah over to the table where the two Half Moon's are sitting, having what appeared to be friendly drinks. Katherine's arrives after a moment's forgetfulness on the waiter's behalf, as flustered as he is by all the Rage suddenly suffocating the air. He nods, and quick-walks himself to the bar to fetch a Martini.

It is presented to the Silver Fang on a napkin as Kire Gustarf is bowing and offering his introductions to herself and Covered Sky. The Glass Walker need not have troubled himself over who between the pair was the one known as Truth's Meridian -- her breeding just about screamed it. She was the only among them currently whose blood declared her the daughter of Kings and Queens, of great warriors from a time gone past.

"Bonsoir, Kire Gustarf, Full Moon of the Glass Walkers," she echoes back at him prettily, her voice surprisingly young, and girlish. There was a teasing gleam in her blue eyes for a moment as she studied him, bent forward to introduce himself. She waited for the waiter to deposit her drink and depart before she gestured that he should make himself comfortable.

"I am charmed, to be sure, to make your acquaintance. I am Katherine Bellamonte, Truth's Meridian, Honor's Compass, Fostern Philodox of the Silver Fangs and packed with the Unbroken, child of Christopher 'Grey Claws' Bellamonte, Grand-Child of Gerard 'Striker' Bellamonte, daughter of the House of the Bellamonte, of the House of Wyrmfoe and joined to the House Gleaming Eye. I am also Philodox Elder to the Caern here, and elder of my tribe."

A beat, Katherine seems to find great amusement in her long-winded introduction, and more so in waving a hand toward Park. "This is Covered Sky, she is a Child of Thunder's, and a fellow Half Moon like myself."

[Zeke] The Drive had been uneventful, a day of shuttling to some minor dignitaries come in to oversee some personal exchanges. An aid here, a translator there, a minor official of political standing. None had offered to speak or wished interruption, keeping to themselves behind the black glass. So it was, when Zeke pulled up to the parking, waving off Valet parking in favour of putting the car into a slot on his own, the air was a relaxed one.

An easy day.

The trip into the Lobby was made with a passing glance to the surrounding Humanity, while the punctuating flush of the Chauffeur's suit, was offset slightly by the loosened tie and the doffed sunglasses, tucked into the collar of his shirt. His regard is distinctly zen. Or perhaps, neutral is a better word as he walks through the lobby with careful steps measured toward the Elevator. Hands in pockets, long coat laid open, eyes lost in the vague reflection of marble floors.

[Kire] Kire knew enough to bow curtly to Covered Sky as well as she had been personally introduced by a Forstern and member of the Silver Fangs. Bad with people, yes, but not unintelligent, in fact Kire was quite the opposite. He could probably recite her whole name back from memory at the moment, but that'd probably seem rude. Still, he had a distinct feeling that she looked down on him, as all Silver Fangs generally did to the Bone Gnawers and his own tribe. Such thoughts were best kept to himself and so Kire smiled his best smile, which wasn't much as he wasn't accustomed to smiling, but still.

"It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Truth's Meridian, daughter of the House of Bellamonte. I don't mean to be rude, but might I sit with you and Covered Sky and enjoy a drink? I forgive any insolence on my part, but I am new to this city and wish to introduce myself properly."

[Lukas] The voice that comes out of Lukas does not fit the man.

The man is broadshouldered, with powerful arms and a strong back; a proud carriage. He's several inches over six feet. The way he's built says he should rumble when he speaks; the way he dresses says he should temper that articulation and eloquence.

When he opens his mouth, though, what comes out is an unfortunate, cracked creak some two or three octaves above what one would expect. Even across the room, the way the greeter reacts is visible: a blink, a stare, a too-long pause. Then she asks him to repeat himself.

"I said," he replies patiently, in that same horrid voice, "I'm here to meet friends."

He's let in, and heads directly for Katherine's table, drawn by the pack bond. The easy familiarity with which he grips the Philodox's shoulder briefly before settling himself in a chair -- between Katherine's and Park's, if anyone bothers with details -- says something about their relationship.

[Kate] Perhaps he had not noticed her geniel wave to make himself comfortable, or, perhaps it had been lost beneath the names and titles she had accosted him with upon their meeting. Either way, Katherine inclines her head and suggests with a polite little rise of her brow upward that of course he may sit with them, what a question to ask, as if she'd refuse, so on and so forth.

Then: her attention is drawn, her eyes stray toward the door and this is even before the awful pinched sounds of a Garou suffering beneath Voice of the Jackal reach them. She waits, the Philodox, with the patience of her moon for the form of one Lukas Wyrmbreaker to make himself known and only then does her attention return to fix on the Glass Walker.

She is unperturbed by the hand that grips her shoulder as its owner passes -- to most, this would be enough to have them blinking -- since when did the Silver Fangs and the Shadow Lords greet one another on good terms? Where were the snarls, the hisses, the guarded and suspicious looks?

There was clearly none of that present between these two. In fact, the manner in which Katherine ever so slightly turns her body so that it faces rather than ignores the Shadow Lord suggests much. "Kire, may I present my Alpha, Lukas Wyrmbreaker, Fostern of your Moon, and elder of the Shadow Lords."

[Zeke] The elevator door chimes politely, as if to say 'Excuse me for this noise, please to be carrying on with your meals, Thank you' and Zeke steps out alone, giving the dim and tastefully lit numbers above the double doors a brief flick of a glance. His jaw claps shut, hands tugging at the driving gloves even as he paces past the carpeting and halls to the podium where stands the Hostess who lifts a flick of a glance and blink toward him.

Before she has a chance to say anything however-

"There's a Young woman here, with another younger woman. Both pretty. One asian, one blonde. Business type with a Princes- Ahhh..There." A pause, gaze regarding the somewhat confused Greeter. "Katherine Bellamonte. We're old friends." The smile is benevolent, even excusing of the girl's confusion. He patronizes with impressive quality, patting her hand while he's moving past.

"I'll say hello and leave you to the smile and How do." And he's walking past, gloves vanishing into jacket pockets, the long coat itself plucked from his shoulders to reveal the Chauffeur below. One of the waiter's looks about ready to rush over, turning worried eyes toward the bewildered hostess. When the young fellow arrives, Zeke is tugging at his tie, pulling the windsor knot out with a grimace.

"A rhum and coke. Dark rhum, none of that bacardi business that thinks it's being clever. Single slice of lime. No straw, minimal ice." A pause, the waiter blinking. Zeke's own Rage was not a harsh thing as those that have come before but the effect of that many Garou populating the place has put the staff on edge and in the realms of the timid. Blame not the no moon for taking advantage of such.

The Waiter, pausing briefly, glancing toward the table Zeke is turned to, offers a hurried nod before moving toward the bar. Zeke smiles after him and then turns toward the table, moving with a calm step and regard for the occupants.

[Park] The waitstaff has got to be shitting themselves right about now.

Prior to Zeke's arrival, not a single one of the group that ends up in a cluster around a small coffee table over by the giant plate glass windows could be mistaken for anything but an Ahroun if Rage were the only clear indicator of experience and stature within the Nation. The two Ahroun who are present have an excuse: this is what they were born with, the burden that they must carry as a result of being Gaia's chosen warriors.

The two Philodoxes, however, are an entirely different story. There are several different paths to allowing one's Rage to becoming extraordinarily high. Trauma, loss, bearing witness to the destruction and rape of Gaia... all of these things will cause even the most mild-mannered of Theurges to become furious monsters with the single-minded intent to destroy all who serve as an affront to the Mother. Despite their poise, their bearing, these women have either suffered or seen a great deal of suffering in their lifetime.

To say nothing of what the life of the man ordering a rhum and Coke must have been like.

None of the five of them have led easy lives, and none of the staff on the floor tonight, not the cocktail servers nor the bartender, want anything to do with this lot, this well-dressed, well-mannered group of people who the squeaky-voiced man claimed he was here to meet.

For a time, it seems as though Covered Sky has drifted off into her own thoughts, for her gaze traipses off over the skyline beyond the reflective surface of the window as the Silver Fang and the Glass Walker introduce themselves. She looks up when she hears her name, and smiles a quiet smile, but does not speak until Lukas joins them.

"-Rhya," she says, and lifts her Manhattan to take a quick swallow.

[Lukas] "Evening, Park," Lukas acknowledges in that hideous, whining, grating voice. "Good to see you again."

He doesn't make the slightest attempt to ameliorate the sound of his voice. He speaks at his normal volume and pace; his eyes meet his tribemate's directly, a pale, cutting blue, and then flick to Kire.

"Kire," Lukas repeats, and leans forward to reach over the table, grasping Kire's arm in a brief, solid clasp if it's offered. "Good to have another Full Moon. Which tribe?"

[Kire] Meanwhile, the man named Kire had settled into his seat, slightly uncomfortable in his surroundings and now made even worse by the fact that more and more Garou appeared. He wasn't good communicating with people, on a social basis anyway. Chain of command, orders, cover my back, clear that outpost, things like those he understood and in situations like that he thrived, but this, this was something else. Something wholly unpleasant for him, he had difficulty speaking to one person, he was gonna handle 5. But still, wearing the same smile as he had for Katherine, he addressed Lukas upon the introduction.

"Pleased to meet you, I am a member of the Glass Walkers. I look forward to fighting side-by-side with a fellow warrior such as yourself," the same respectful but heavily accented tone as before, then again even speaking normally his accent always stood out. It was just harder to control it when he was this uncomfortable and trying not to make a blunder.

[Kate] Zeke uses Katherine's name as his entry card into the Lounge, and certainly the young Aristocrat has visited frequently enough and tipped graciously enough for her name to be known and acknowledged as one of their more up-market customers -- so they don't stop the angry young man with the bizarrely pitched voice or the second young man whose confidence and easy naming of the Silver Fang engender him as seemingly 'belonging' to the crowd by the corner table.

They just try their best to stay calm, and overlook the impending sense of doom that emanates in waves from that section.

For her own part, the Philodox elder seems quite relaxed given that she's surrounded by no less than three Shadow Lords now. She's cupping her Martini glass in both hands and occasionally sipping from it, listening with a tilted head to the interactions between the two Ahrouns. She turns her attention to Zeke however when he approaches and her fair brows rise in surprise, and some degree of amusement at finding the Ragabash at the Signature Lounge.

Her eyes flick to Park, and she inclines her head as if to wordlessly ask: is he here for you? before glancing back and greeting the Shadow Lord with a tip of her glass. "Host of Traitors, bonsoir."

[Lukas] To his credit, Kire doesn't bat an eyelash at the Shadow Lord's voice. That gains him a considering look, the grip maintained a moment longer, and then Lukas lets go. "A Glass Walker; I wouldn't have guessed that off the bat. It's not necessary to put on a show of etiquette, Kire, if it's not your nature to do so. We all understand respect isn't the same thing as courtesy, anyway."

He sits back, draping one arm over the low back of his armchair.

"I'm not here for long," he informs the table at large. Indeed, he hadn't even bothered to order. "Just saw Kate here and thought I'd say hi." His eyes lift over Kire's head to find Host of Traitors approaching. A faint smile quirks Lukas's mouth; he lifts his hand casually in a wave. "Zeke."

Ironically, of the gathered, Lukas has known Zeke longer than any but Katherine. To say the tribemates differ in personality and approach would be the understatement of the century; at the shadow moot alone, they locked horns or at least butted heads at least once or twice. Some level of acquaintanceship and ultimately similar goals, however -- and the sheer camaraderie of survival in a rather hot warzone like the Chicago protectorate -- have built some vague level of familiarity between them.

"Still alive, I see," he adds. "Have a chance to touch base with Edwin about our neighbors in the north?"

[Park] Unlike a lot of people must be upon hearing the pubescent wavering and whining of Lukas's voice, Park does not flinch or show much distaste for her elder's jackal throat. Granted... she can't hear the higher-pitched sounds coming out of his mouth, so when a squeak or a squawk sends his words shooting into the upper echelon of decibel levels, it's as though it has completely ceased to exist.

Park has to be aware of her packmate's presence tonight. They share a totem connection now, though it is not such that they can hear each others' voices in their minds. The two Cliaths have to communicate in other ways: phone calls, text messages, email, or showing up at the apartment or Room 4 when something goes awry or needs speaking of. Park knows that Zeke wants to speak to her.

He's also starting to learn that finding her during the moon's waning period is to find her not at her best, to find her faltering somewhat. The darkened half of the moon has passed on to a new phase, and she is starting to regain her footing.

Both Kate and Lukas address the chauffeur before his Alpha does. For her part, she crosses one leg over the other at the knee and turns in her chair to face the bar. Her drink is half finished. She pulls the cherry from the concoction by the stem and pulls the fruit free with her teeth, chewing as she listens to what portions of the conversation she can actually hear.

[Zeke] "...Zeke." The smile is interpretive.

Katherine makes use of Zeke's deedname and he in turn corrects her with a polite expression, gaze flicking up toward Katherine's gaze, only for something to shift in the Metis with sudden, correcting fluidity. His regard does not make it's way past her chin and their is a re-assembling of things within his system that tells of an instant alteration to the young No Moon's inner gears and mechanics.

It is not discomfort, but more a distinct appraisal that turns the smile from something shielded to something genuine. A broadening that threatens teeth, but not quite. He doesn't answer Kate immediately, turning to regard Lukas. If the Metis pays any mind to the Ranking Ahourn's punishment he casts no mention or even grimace.

"Lukas and...Not yet. Edwin's collective is made up of several new bodies as well as multiple tribes. I get the feeling he and his number are mulling the details over. I'm content to let him relax with it for a while before approaching. Ed's a smart fellow. He'll call when he's made everyone ready."

And then on toward Katherine, the greeting and smile interrupted briefly by the peripheral arrival of the waiter with Zeke's drink. He is searching desperately for some place to put it, seeing as the Ragabash has yet to take a seat anywhere. Zeke watches him with a narrowed gaze and a slight purse to his lips. Five seconds and then he's reaching forward to pluck up the glass and nod at the fellow to be on his way. The Waiter all but gulps and back peddles, narrowly avoiding knocking a table askew in the process.

"...Katherine" The tone and word carry a generous amount of amusement and glee "-...Congratulations are in order." The glass of dark liquid is raised toward the Silver Fang, whilst eyes and attention fall briefly to Park. No word. Not yet.

[William Edward Talbot] The elevator doors cut open again, whisper silent. This time, the hostess - sleak in her black cocktail dress and rigid with a sparking sort of tension given her subconscious response to the rage of the monsters in the room - looks up without a smile, her mouth still, her eyes wide, wary, and alert.

The pair that emerge from the elevator give her no cause for alarm, however. The man is tall and fit, well-dressed in a custom-tailored suit that errs on the more conservative side of sharp. Somewhere in his mid-thirties, he has close-cropped blonde hair, and an easy, charming smile that sets the tense woman immediately at her eyes. The woman is smaller, with dark brown hair shot through with wiry strands of gray that she has not ever bothered to dye. They share few physical similarities - he has an immediate intimacy with the hostess, standing close to her as he requests a table, laughing, a flash of white teeth in a face tanned despite the season, when she makes some passing quiet. The woman remains reserved, standing back from the podium, her plain face held in a bland mask, perhaps a frission of irritation evident in the set of her mouth. Both, however, are well and conservatively dressed. And in both, the blood of the mad kings sings its tidal song.

William, of course, notes the gathering - and the Philodox at the center of it - as soon before the hostess has led them two feet past her elegant little desk. He stops her with a touch beneath the elbow, excuses himself indicating the table around which the Garou are gathered with a tip of his head. The hostess cannot supress the shiver of dread that crawls up her spine, and the animation he had brought forth in her sparks and dies again in her eyes. As she returns to her station, William inclines his head to his companion, murmuring a quiet explanation as the pair redirect their steps toward the isolated corner of the Signature Lounge, where mere mortals no longer dare tread.

"Ms. Bellamonte," William greets Katherine, quietly, offering her a smile no less charming that that with which he favored the hostess. He stands on the outter periphery of the gathering of True-Born, and waits for a lull in the conversation to speak. The plain-faced woman stands beside him, a tight, bland little smile on her face, tension evident in the cut line of her jaw, the flat curl of her mouth.

[Lukas] Aha, says Lukas into Kate's mind, is this the reason behind the mona lisa smiles?
to Kate

[Kate] Hush, comes the instant response, peppered with a generous amount of embarrassment and sincere pleasure at the sight of the Kinsman. Be nice.
to Lukas

[Lukas] "That's fine," Lukas replies. Screeches. Yelps. "I'm not in a hurry. Yet. I'll check back with the two of you in a few weeks."

The Shadow Lord's ice-strewn eyes turn on the newcomer, then, and his plain-faced companion. Katherine's table is rapidly filling up; many of the newcomers will have to stand or pull up their own chairs. For his part, Lukas does not appear polite enough to give up his chair for a lady. Then again, a different set of laws of etiquette apply in the company of wolves.

His regard is speculative; then, rather unexpectedly, Lukas laughs. My god, even the laugh matches the voice -- a mad hyena cackle. Some first impression, this.

"You must be Will Talbot. Kate's told us good things. Pull up a chair."

[Kate] Zeke corrects her use of his deed-name, and receives the benefit of a sharp little smile, edged and subtle that creeps around the corners of her lips. "But of course," she all but purrs with liquid grace and it seems certain that he has certified the use of his deed-name from her in the next few interactions they have. Still, when he offers his congratulations on her new rank, she is all politeness and sweet, open expressions as she lifts her drink to toast in return and sips from her martini.

Then: a flicker of something like pure pleasure across the Philodox's face and a warm blush creeps over her cheeks and neck as her Kinsman approaches. Still, Katherine is nothing if not poised, her dignity keeps her seated, and her chin slightly lifted in response to William's greeting.

"Good evening, Mister Talbot, what an unexpected pleasure to see you again so soon," her pale eyes shift to his plain-faced company, and her lips quirk a little at the edges. "This must be the elusive Ms Templeton Gray, non? It is quite a pleasure to put a face to the name."

[Lukas] Hm, well. He seems presentable, though you Fangs are always so good at hiding skeletons in your closets. Lukas is eying Will speculatively. He's not secretly a heroin addict, is he? Or ... a dealer in stolen art and kidnapped women?
to Kate

[Kire] Kire silently sank back into his seat, watching the new arrivals in silence, he was growing less and less comfortable with this arrangement. He'd completed his purpose, he figured he might as well leave soon, these kinds of places were not suited for him. Still, he sat, waiting and watching the new arrivals and the people who were now too focused on conversations with each other to notice him. He was studying them, their movements, behaviors, personalities, you could tell a lot about someone from how they moved and acted.

[Kate] You are so full of suspicions and conspiracy theories it is a wonder to me, she remarks in reply, hiding her smile behind her martini glass. No, he is none of those things. He is actually a useful contact, he manages my family's trust funds among other things, is the managing director of Olyphant Templeton. The dour faced thing beside him is his assistant I believe.
to Lukas

[Zeke] "...Newblood, right?"

The conversation would begin to rise in Etiquette and posture. Well beyond the means and measures of those of lesser 'quality'. A Kin came to the table. Two, in fact and Zeke took the opportunity to slip into place alongside Kire's left shoulder. A hand moved out to tap an index finger against the man, Zeke's features, a trim goatee, flattening out into a brief smile. Small and calculating.

"Company here is a bit much to take in sometimes but we all work the same business." The other hand flicks a white business card, holding it out for Kire to take. The name on it in simple, stylized black lettering

Zeke

Followed smoothly by a number and an Address to an apartment building, tucked away into the lower right hand corner.

"...A lot of work for Full moons in this City, Neighbour. You come find me when you get bored 'n we'll set you up with somethin' real, well-" A glance up toward the rest of the table, his voice having lowered so as not to interrupt the Unbroken and the Kinfolk meeting.

"-A lil' more real than the meet 'n greet anyway, hmm?"

[William Edward Talbot] "Has she?" Will's response is good-natured; he flares a smile from Lukas to Kate, then, the expression finding its way into the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. If he is uneasy among so many Garou, he swallows the signs of it with aplomb. Only the unexpected bray of Lukas' jackal's voice disturbs the well-tempered mask the man keeps, and then only for a fracture of a second - the smile briefly flattening with surprise.

Katherine greets him, and he steps closer to her then, lowering his head briefly, smiling down at her in response. Then, continuing the introduction started by the pair of Garou, Will steps back/pulls his companion forward, nodding to Katherine and, by extension, Lukas as he introduces her. "Yes, indeed. My cousin - and my right hand, Jennifer Templeton Gray. I know I mentioned her to you, Ms. Bellamonte - Katherine."

Tugged by her companion, the woman offers Katherine a polite nod of greeting. Her face is tense, her clear gray eyes alert, roaming over the rest of the monsters in the room without giving any cause for offense. Don't look them in the eye. When the barest necessities of greetings are concluded, she addresses William - "Will, we have to get those numbers to the actuaries by morning." and then deftly excuses herself, with a look back to Katherine. "It's a pleasure, ma'am. If you'll excuse me, though - I would appreciate it."

[Kire] Kire looked around to Zeke for a moment, it was obvious from the behavior that Katherina had around him that he wasn't the most gracious of guests, and yet from his words and the card, Kire instantly knew he was probably one of the few in this room he could truly get along with. Or at least in any way of the word he used it, he'd always had comrades, but barely any 'friends'. Still, he was smart enough to know not to give himself away right now, a small nod for only Zeke to notice instead of an actual response. He silently and carefully, so as to make sure the others didn't notice, slid the card into his sleeve, it was better than hiding it in his pocket for now. Less distance, and much less chance of being seen especially with his hand under the table.

"Ah, yes, this is quite different from my homeland, such horrid memories I have of that beautiful place, Bosnia," he spoke with a sad tone, but he hoped his message would be clear to Zeke, he knew his way around a battlefield, and not just as an Ahroun.

[Kate] The closer he steps to her, the more aware she becomes of him. Of his scent, of the cologne he wears. There's a flare of her nostrils, a very inhuman reaction as he bridges distance and places himself close enough to smile intimately down at her. Katherine looks upward at him with that small smile that expressed good humor and challenge all mingled together.

She was not cowed by him, that much was clear, but then, it took a great amount more to bring out fear in Katherine Bellamonte: most especially in her current company. "It is a pleasure, Ms Templeton Gray, and of course I shall not keep you a moment longer." She was all that was gracious, and charming -- but beneath her smiles and her charm was that hint of something darker; something powerful and capable of much violence.

Her eyes return to William, and she re-iterates Lukas' offer.

"Must you rush off also, or will you stay a moment?"

[Lukas] "On that note," Lukas says, having never even taken off his coat, "I'm heading out too. Kire, William, it was good meeting you. Park; Zeke."

There's no goodbye between Lukas and his packmate. It would be useless. He's literally a voice in her head, and vice versa. Instead, the Shadow Lord gets to his feet, sidestepping out of the increasingly crowded circle around the small lounge table. He smiles down at Katherine briefly, wryly, and without explanation. Then he's leaving the Signature Lounge, his rage a wake of ozone behind him.

[Kate] [addendum!]

When Lukas rises and excuses himself, Katherine merely meets his gaze with a smile of her own, and a decidedly wry arch of her eyebrow in response to whatever conversation has passed between them wordlessly.

[Lukas] The Omni Chicago, is Lukas's parting shot, has excellent suites. You might still be able to get a room tonight, even if Valentine's is only a few days off. I wouldn't bring him back to the Loft, though. I'm training with Sinclair tonight in your pool, and we'll go out of our way to make it one hell of a walk of shame for you.
to Kate

[Kate] Something very rude is said to him in french, and then: You are both wretches.
to Lukas

[Lukas] [night folks! thanks for the RP!]

[Zeke] "...Sad place indeed but beneficial for our line of work. You stay in contact and we'll make sure you're taken care of here."

The No Moon quirks a corner of his mouth, hand balling into a loose fist that pats down on the Ahroun Glasswalker's shoulder. A brief show of understanding and then the Ragabash is turning toward Park, offering a quirk of a brow as the young Asian woman finally catches his eye. The pair exchange a flicker of expressions, too minimal to really be suggestive of anything-

-then abruptly, Lukas stands and makes his good byes. Zeke offers a nod, as does the older Philodox. The pair of cliath Lords regard the Elder of their tribe as he exits the establishment, before they glance to one another with a curt nod. Both pull back from the Table, Park with a soft incline of her head, polite but curt, Zeke with a generous smile to those at the Table and a soft toned-

"Adieu"

Then the pair are turning to walk, slowly, to the Elevator. They would miss Lukas heading down by moments, the Ragabash maintaining a slow pace, interrupting their walk to send the Rhum and Coke back to the Bar with a distasteful clap of his tongue and a-

"...Bartender needs to work on his mix. It's a little hard on the syrup."

[Park] [Thanks for the play, y'all!]