stefan.

[Stefan] The young Serbian has already been to the Brotherhood of Thieves before. He finds the name appropriate. In older times, such places were havens to those who existed outside of accepted society and bound by their own rules and their own code of honor, and even their own lexicon and near-language. Such a description aptly applied to a restaurant that ran as a brewery, but provided safety to the Garou Nation. He dismounts from his sports bike and makes his way inside, unzipping his jacket as he does and heading straight through. His short cut dark hair is a bit ruffled from the ride, but a few quick brushes with his hand smooths it back into place.

He heads toward the mail cubbyholes, pausing there. He is aware of which room is the correct room and he looks directly to that one. He reaches inside his jacket, coming out with a simple but high-end white envelope and slides it into the slot. He smiles a touch and then makes his way elsewhere.

The letter, inserted into the slot for Room 2, has "Cold Victory-rhya" written in navy gray on the outside. The letter on the inside reads as follows, in the same pen and handwriting:

Cold Victory-rhya,

Greetings. My name is Stefan Knezevic, Eyes of Crow, Cliath Theurge formerly under the tutelage of Irina Becomes The Storm of the Sept of Whispering Winds in Pennsylvania. I had the fortunate opportunity to speak to your packmate Warcry-rhya, and she said she would pass the message along but I believed that a more personal introduction would be appropriate.

I have arrived within Chicago and wish to make appropriate greetings. I have enclosed my phone number, as well as the address and room number of the hotel I am staying at. I look forward to meeting with you upon your convenience; in the meantime I am making myself known to the local populace.

I look forward to hearing from you whenever is best. Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,
-S

[Lukas] A few days after the note first arrives, Stefan's cell phone rings. The message is brief enough:

"Care to join me for late night coffee? The Brotherhood of Thieves is Nation-only afterhours. I can meet you tonight around 11."

[Stefan] The voice on the other end is warm, though formal and deferential. When Lukas makes the offer for coffee, the rich baritone sounds to the affirmative.

"That would be exceptional. I will see you then."

And thus it is that at 10:45, his motorcycle pulls up outside the Brotherhood and he slips off of it. He's not ostentatious about his arrival; he doesn't skid or rev the engine. There are times when being flashy is appropriate, but generally Eyes of Crow prefers to keep things low-key. He walks up to the place, running hands through his hair to smooth it into place and rolling his shoulders so that the collarless navy shirt settles right on him after the ride. A pair of black, ironed slacks and boots complete the outfit.

He gives a quick look around the outside and then walks into the establishment. He's a quarter-hour early, but that's because it is appropriate. You always show up for an interview early; it reflects positively. And if there is one thing that's important to Stefan, who's reputation for being a upstanding Garou with potential is well-documented at his home sept and even beyond thanks to the Garou Nation's grapevine, it's being reflected positively upon. He shuts the door behind him as opposed to letting it close and checks to see if Lukas is already downstairs. If so, he makes a slow approach to the man; if not, he moves to sit at the bar, as it is a place he is easily noticeable.

[Danicka] The Brotherhood of Thieves is -- as far as the dining room and kitchen go -- empty at this time of night. They closed some time ago and the staff is efficient and quick about cleaning up. Chairs are stacked on tables. Liquor cabinets are locked, the register drawers counted out and money deposited and put in safes and so forth. The fireplace is, however, roaring -- someone started a fire awhile ago and it's burning cheerily into the cold February night.

There is no sign of Lukas in the dining room. There is, however, a slender blonde woman sitting at the corner of the bar when Stefan walks in. In front of her on the bar are three plain white mugs, a carafe of coffee, and a couple of little bowls bearing cups of creamer and packets of sugar. She's wearing a red sweater with a cowl neck, her hair straightened tonight. From the look of things she could be somewhere in her late twenties or early thirties; there are faint lines at the corners of her mouth and eyes, though the rest of her features seem younger. Maybe it's because of what she is. It's a life that ages you, no matter how fast that Garou blood heals you.

And she does have a taste of it. The woman belongs to Stefan's tribe and he can sense it even from the other room, traceries of familiarity though he's never seen her before in his life. Green eyed, fairskinned, with that light hair that doesn't for a moment suggest the cold, hard, craggy mountains associated with the grandchildren of Thunder. But there it is: she's a Shadow Lord, though something about her scent and her bearing suggests meadowlands and vineyards more than mountaintops. Maybe a storm on the horizon, a rich fall of rain on welcoming earth.

Or hearthfires burning like the one in the Brotherhood's dining room right now. A full belly. Cubs sleeping in a pile nearby. A feeling of warmth, a vague ancestral memory of fertile lowlands and tightly-knit families offsetting the vicious politicking of packs and septs.

She looks up when he comes in. Smiles at him. Seems friendly. "You must be Stefan," she says, something about her words sounding a little more easterly, not a native Chicagoan. She straightens a bit on her stool, turning towards him to offer her right hand. There is a slender ring on the third finger of her left, white gold brushed to matte, the edges a pale rose gold that, though glossy, is half-hidden as it constitutes only the inside of the ring. Other than this, a pair of small gold hoops are the only jewelry she wears.

"I'm Danička. Lukáš will be right back. Have some coffee."

[Stefan] He pauses when he sees Danicka, looking the woman over. The look is one of pure appraisement; Stefan is a devotee of attention to detail. The woman's breeding, her scent, the ring on her finger...it all registers to the Theurge before she speaks.

When she does, he listens. Not the kind of casual, 'kind of there' listening that most people are willing to pass off as listening...he takes her words in, considers them, his attention going nowhere else. Perhaps in a less hospitable environment, he would not give his attention solely on one focal point, but the environs of the Brotherhood of Thieves is one he has been in a few times now. He does not give it the full measure of discretion that he might a safehouse less packed with others, but he at least trusts that a surprise assault is not coming in this particular moment.

He smiles to Danicka when she is finished. It is a warm, friendly expression. With the right twist, it could be considered charming, but Stefan is not here to prove his charm, and certainly not with one who on his initial assessment seems to be involved with the Tribal Elder of the city. He approaches, taking Danicka's hand from under, so that the back of her hand is facing up. Again, he doesn't do any kind of roguish charm trick here--he settles his free hand over hers, forming brief cocoon around her hand, and bows his head.

"A pleasure to meet you, Danicka. Indeed, I am Stefan Knezevic. A pleasure to meet you. And thank you."

He picks up the carafe, pouring himself some coffee. No cream, no sugar. He settles onto a seat, not touching his cup for the moment as he looks at her.

"Forgive me if I am overly early. Better early than late, is the general rule."

[Danicka] Danicka does not introduce herself as Lukas's mate or Lukas's wife or Lukas's kinswoman or Lukas's anything. Until recently that ring didn't exist and still, no one who met her at one of these meetings had much trouble discerning the sense that she was somehow unattainable, unassailable. Even two -- and then some -- years ago, there was something about her that seemed taken. Now it's easy to say to oneself that oh, yes, well, that's because she belongs to Lukas. But it was always there.

As far as charm goes, Danicka has it in spades. So warm, so friendly-eyed, as though she's unware of herself in a way that's inexplicably sweet without being birdbrained. She watches him as he takes her hand though, and he may catch a glint of feral intelligence in those verdant eyes as he turns it, covers her knuckles with his palm. When he withdraws, she returns her hand towards herself and picks up her own coffee to take a sip.

"And better late than never," she adds, setting the cup back down again. "Lukáš told me you just came here from Pennsylvania. Forgive my curiosity, but why Chicago?"

[Stefan] The young Theurge smiles as Danicka mentions that Lukas told her a little about him and then asks what brought him to Chicago. Stefan accepts the question without any sort of reservation, giving a look around and a slight shrug. The expression, the gesture and the look around speaks clearly—why wouldn't I choose here? It's more banter than actual answer though, and indeed an answer is forthcoming as he opens his mouth.

"Irina Becomes-The-Storm, the woman who reared me, suggested it to me. The Sept of the Maelstrom is a young sept, as I am led to understand, and such a place is one that I believe I could contribute to, and which would be good for me to spread my wings, so to speak."

He picks up his coffee now, taking a sip.

"The belief is that it will be a good fit for me. So with the Sept of the Maelstrom, my fortunes lie."

He smiles, the mug held around the handle with one hand while the other cradles the bottom of it.

"What about you? What initially brought you to the Second City?"

[Danicka] The way Danicka carries herself around him suggests a strong backbone. Yet: she doesn't meet his eyes much, nor does she sit with some overinflated self-importance because of Who Her Mate Is. She isn't quaking in his presence, though there's a definite guardedness to her underneath the smiles, the warmth, the amicability.

She also seems to have a clue what he's talking about, as though names like Becomes the Storm don't sound odd to her. A kin who has been reared in this life, then. Or one very, very good at faking it.

"It's a small sept, as I understand," she agrees. "I get the impression that it could use all the help it can get."

At his question, her eyebrows raise a little, though she's looking at her coffee just then. Her expression is thoughtful; no one has asked her that for some time now. Danicka turns to look at Stefan again. "Initially? I came here to keep an eye on an acquaintance -- sort of a friend. But that was, in all honesty, just an excuse."

She doesn't say what it was an excuse for. Because right about then, Lukas is coming back in.

[Lukas] Coming back in is apparently accurate. Something about the way Lukas moves -- direct, certain, expectant -- that indicates this isn't his first entrance to the Brotherhood tonight, and that he isn't surprised to find Danicka there. He's a tall creature, well over six feet, and his auspice is evident in his frame, his build, the rage rolling ahead of him.

He does look mildly surprised to see Stefan there. His eyes flick toward the clock on the wall behind the bar, tucked away where only regulars and bartenders would find it, then back. Pale blue, those eyes. Pulling up a barstool, he sits, then holds his hand out toward the other Shadow Lord.

"Eyes of Crow, I presume. I'm Lukáš, called Wyrmbreaker, Cold Victory. Welcome to Chicago. You've met Danička?"

[Stefan] He looks over when Lukas walks in and rises when he sees him. There is a sense of formality to the Theurge when the Tribal Elder enters, a respect that precludes such things as less-than-perfect posture. There is deference to the other man as well…not cowing submission. There are no downturned eyes. Stefan is not the kind of Garou who gives his throat to everyone who he sees. It is a more subtle thing, an acknowledgment of the other's higher status within Nation and Tribe.

"Thank you, Cold Victory-rhya." He smiles to the other, taking the offered hand with his own. This handshake is more of a standard one than Danicka got, his grip firm and strong. He smiles to Danicka and then looks back.

"We have only just met. We were discussing what brought each of us to Chicago when you entered."

[Lukas] Only it's not a handshake Lukas is after. When Stefan's hand comes out, Lukas's reaches past his palm, gripping his forearm in a brief, solid clasp. The Ahroun is wearing a buttondown shirt, crisp cotton beneath the Theurge's palm; dark-wash jeans. When he lets go, he sits back to pour himself an accompanying mug of coffee.

Stefan and Danicka are facing in their barstools. Lukas has positioned his to Danicka's right, parallel to her, equidistant from Stefan. This means he must reach across her for the carafe, which he does with thoughtless, intimate familiarity. If Stefan hasn't already guessed their relationship -- though surely someone with a name as Eyes of Crow would have guessed it the second he saw them together; the second he saw Danicka here, unsurprised to see him -- that alone would give it away.

"Yeah?" The Ahroun flicks a glance at his tribesman as he pours. There's an implicit courtesy in Lukas, but not so much strict formality. That one word, yeah and not yes, tells Stefan as much. Lukas sets the carafe down, then. Sips coffee, sets it aside, and rests his palms easily on his thighs as his eyes level on his packmate again. "I'm sorry to make you repeat yourself, then. What did bring you to Chicago?"

[Danicka] It may mean something that Danicka quiets when Lukas returns, rather than interjecting, butterflying through introductions and so forth. It might also mean something that she doesn't pour Lukas his coffee for him. She does wear a wry smile when Stefan is asked to repeat himself, sipping at her own. For now, she seems content to sit, and listen, her eyes on the new Theurge.

[Stefan] The adjustment to the forearm clasp is handled with relative smoothness. It is difficult, sometimes, to know which is coming, and Stefan gives an acceding smile and nod to the gesture. He settles back down after Lukas has, watching him as he pours his coffee, studying the other Trueborn. It is a thing done out of habit, and he notes the other's lack of formality. Stefan conforms, but only in subtle ways…an understated relaxing of the spine and shoulders, a tiny bit of a lean in his stool.

His language, however, remains the same. When he needs to, Stefan can certainly affect the speaking habits of other social classes, other subcultures. But for him, it is simply natural to speak in a more formal way. He generally even avoids the use of contractions most of the time, unless people are comfortable with his more formal mode of speech. He smiles when Lukas asks him to repeat himself, and shakes his head.

"No apology needed. As I mentioned in my letter, I have come from the Sept of the Whispering Winds, where I was under the rearing and tutelage of Becomes-the-Storm-rhya." Just in way he mentions her name, the admiration Stefan has for the personified force of nature that raised him is evident. "I have learned, more or less, what I can. The Sept of the Maelstrom was decided on because I believe I can offer my contributions and—as I said to Danicka—a place for me to spread my own wings."

[Lukas] "Sounds familiar," Lukas says with a smile. "I think I had similar ideals when I first came here with my pack. We were the Unbroken Circle then, under Edward Bellamonte."

That's all he says of that piece of history. "I think I've met your mentor," the conversation redirects. "Only once. If I remember right, the Sept of Stark Falls went to great lengths to moonbridge her in for a consult on some crucial spiritual affair. I was very young then and in fosterage myself, so I was rather far from the action and have very little memory of Becomes-the-Storm-yuf. Regardless, the tribe speaks well of you, and I'm glad to have you in the city."

Lukas takes another sip of coffee. When the mug clicks down, he begins to speak -- low, smooth, practiced, as though reading off some mental script long since scribed for just this purpose.

"You should know that as Alpha of the Tribe," he says, "I stand as your de facto Alpha until you join or establish a pack of your own. If you get in trouble, you come to me. If you start trouble, I come to you.

"All otherwise unclaimed kin of Thunder are in my protection. Guard our kin against unpredictable harm, Eyes of Crow, but should any Garou attempt to challenge for claim over them, direct that Garou to me. Should our kin misbehave, direct them to me. Should you decide to take a mate from amongst our kin, come to me first.

"The last thing you should know is that there's a Hive to the north, and it regularly sends sorties against us. Defense of the city and offense against the Hive is coordinated by pack, so you would be well served to join a pack as soon as possible.

"As a Child of Crow, you might consider Harrier's Grace, under Matthieu de Ponthieu. He's a ... rather traditional-minded Silver Fang, though, so I'm not sure he'll welcome one of Thunder's. If you don't mind a more warminded pack, Dark Sky is almost entirely Shadow Lord, and I haven't seen their Theurge for some time. They could probably use your help.

"You should also make yourself known to Rain of Brass Petals, the resident Alpha of the Theurges. I'm sure she'll be able to use your talents to full advantage while you're looking for a pack."

[Stefan] He listens intently to the man as he speaks. The bit of Lukas' own history is given a little smile. He seems to appreciate having that kind of a similar approach to the city on arrival as his elder within the Tribe. It speaks well as to his chances, in Stefan's mind.

When Lukas mentions the Theurge's mentor, he smiles. There is pride there, for the accomplishments of a woman that he idolizes. "You should see her now. It is rather a joy to watch her work." Of course, for many it's terrifying to be within her visual range. The Athro Theurge who reared Stefan from the age of eight is known as a force of nature in and of herself, and few know what that storm is capable of better than Stefan. To the compliment, he merely gives an accepting nod of gratitude for the Ahroun's words.

When Lukas then starts into his expectations, Stefan is nothing if not observant. As with Danicka, when Stefan listens to Lukas, there is nothing less than total attention. It isn't casual, he is not distracted by anything on the periphery. He nods when Lukas talks about kinfolk, and tilts his head while processing the newly-gained knowledge of the Hive.

When Lukas mentions packs, he listens to the ones that Lukas suggests. He does not yet know Matthieu, or the members of Dark Sky, but he nods and files that information away. And the last part, about Adamidas, gets a knowledgeable nod.

"I am arranging a meeting with Brass Petals-rhya post-haste. As for packs, I will consider the ones that you have mentioned. Currently, I have a pending offer from the members of Defiance. Burnout's pack. It is not a set thing as of yet, but I am considering it. They are perhaps not the most typical of packs where I would go, but I do see a fair amount of use that I could offer them."

The statement is left there, for Lukas to advise on or not. "As for the rest, it is certainly noted and understood, no less than I would expect. It is worth mentioning that I have encountered a kinfolk in the city, a Carter Roth. He appears to have some kind of healing capability. He has…not reacted well to me as of yet. He seems very skittish around our kind, unless he is out of arm's reach. I thought I would bring the information to you in case you were not aware of them. There is also another kinfolk in the city, who from what I understand is newly-arrived. Neda Stevic. She is a medical examiner, I believe."

Again, there is no judgment given to these individuals. His statements are matter-of-fact and without judgment.

[Lukas] Defiance -- that surprises Lukas, and he doesn't bother to hide it. "A very warlike pack," he says. "But they do lack a Theurge. It's possible your point of view as a Child of Crow will be a valuable asset there.

"Carter Roth and Neda Stevic," Lukas repeats the names then, affirming. "I'll get in touch with them. Thanks for letting me know.

"Was there anything else?"

[Stefan] A little nod. Truth told, he saw many differences between Defiance and him, and it is far from a sure thing. An initial good encounter was somewhat spoiled by a night at a bar, but the offer is still there, conditionally, and he is considering it.

"That was my thought as well. I could be very useful, and while my martial skills are not the most impressive perhaps, I can hold my own. And even a war pack could use some rounding to it."

As for Carter and Neda, he merely gives a nod of assent.

"There is nothing else at this time. Should I uncover anything that needs reporting, I will be sure to inform you thus. And should you have need of me in any way, you have my number."

[Danicka] Danicka has been present but quiet for some time now, sipping her coffee. She could, by now, likely recite Lukas's spiel to new Shadow Lords and Shadow Lord Kin if she had to, or at least hit the high points. She has a surprisingly good memory. Occasionally her cup clinks as it's set down on the bartop. She notices when their cups are low and, wordlessly, offers to pour more. A shake of the head or a welcoming nod is all that it takes to see her pouring before re-settling once more.

Her eyes flick towards Stefan when he mentions a kinsman with healing abilities. She is still for a moment, paused, hearing about Carter's skittishness, but then she's drawing her cup to her lips again, sipping silently.

After the conversation returns to the talk of what pack Stefan might join, Danicka does interject, in a tone that suggests she's only musing aloud: "Just about anyone can learn to fight, and fight rather well. But even moderate ability in the spirit world is something you are born to." Her cup is near her mouth, but she doesn't quite sip yet. "Usually, at least."

She drinks her coffee, silent again, more listening than talking, more aware than engaged.

[Lukas] Lukas nods in return, setting his coffee -- he does accept a refill -- aside to clasp forearms again briefly.

"Thanks for dropping by, Stefan. It was a pleasure to meet you. Feel free to stick around, but I need to make some calls. Excuse me."

Rising, he brings his mug with him, pausing to add to Danicka, "Budu jsem svém pokoji, lásko."