maddox.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The Ukrainian Village is surrounded by the Polish Downtown, which means there's stuffed cabbage aplenty here.

Lukas is sitting in a little hole in the wall diner on the border of the Village. He's eating beef-stuffed cabbage drenched in tangy-sweet red sauce, sipping hot tea and potato vodka. He has a book on Bronze Age cultures of the world open in front of him; he seems absorbed, interested.

The nerd.

[Maddox] A nerd of a different kind makes his way inside the establishment. A perpetual traveler, Maddox doesn't pause in the doorway like a confused tourist, glancing around and feeling out of place. He marches himself right in and looks around for a seat. Spying the vodka-sipping nerd, the Theurge tilts his head. There's no guitar strapped to his back today, just a messenger bag that appears to be quite heavy, judging by the way the strap digs into his shoulder.

He spots the vodka-sipping Ahroun and his brows lift. Then lower. Lukáš. Dani&+269;ka. Haha. Duh. Not waiting to be noticed or invited, he makes he way over for hellos.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Maddox," Lukas greets the Theurge without looking up. "Try their stuffed cabbage. It's excellent." The book's new enough that the spine crackles as he closes it. He smiles across the table at the Fianna, leaning back. "Recognized the way you walked," he adds by way of explanation.

[Maddox] Lukas greets him without looking up, and it gets raised brows as a response. "Really?" he asks, pulling out the chair opposite. "I'm flattered you were checkin' me out, mate, but you should know I don't swing that way. D'you mind?" he asks, ass already in the chair before he remembers that this guy has a lot of Rage and a lot of rank on him.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] There's a sort of animal confidence in Lukas; a natural-born alpha's assurance of his place in the world. His mouth quirks crookedly at the quip. He's secure enough to quip, "I'm devastated. Now I'll have to drink myself into a stupor and take home a few Russian hookers to heal my wounded heart.

"Be my guest," he adds. "I wouldn't have suggested the cabbage if I wanted you out of my sight. Wódka?"

[Maddox] Maddox is no alpha, far from it. He's not a leader, would never dream of taking up a position of leadership. All the same, there's an air of confidence about him, his own special brand of assurance. It lets him joke with an Adren Ahroun and warmaster of a sept about his sexuality without fear of reprisal. And if Lukas took offense? Well, that's never happened before.

"If you do, make sure to ask Ты трансвестит? Sometimes it's hard to tell with European birds. And certainly," he says to the question of vodka, removing his bag and dropping it to the floor with a thunk.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The entirety of this ... diner/cafe/hole in the wall is one small room, about the size of a large bedroom. Four tiny tables, most of them with two seats, one with four chairs crowded 'round. Bare wooden floors. Largely bare walls, with one tiny pencil drawing of some onion-domed Ukrainian landmark. Lukas wouldn't know; he's not Russian, not Ukrainian, not even close.

There's a single waitress sweeping the floor in the corner. She's midfifties, iron grey hair, a tough old battleaxe unfazed by russian mafiosos and Ahrouns alike. Lukas waves for her attention and then gestures for another shotglass. She snaps something back, heavily accented -- In a minute, I'm sweeping!

Wyrmbreaker turns back, giving Maddox this sort of expression:

O_O

before laughing under his breath and eating his dinner. "You speak Russian?" he says, curious.

[Maddox] [actually, I guess that would be blokes?]

[Maddox] The place is small, the kind of crowded that's either cozy or claustrophobic, depending on your desire to be close to strangers. Maddox doesn't seem the type to care either way. He would be neither comfortable nor uncomfortable anywhere, though his slight bit of Rage tends to give him some small pocket of privacy in crowds.

Lukas looks all kinds of surprised that the not-even-close-to-looking-European young man speaks Russian. It's Maddox's turn to chuckle, grinning. "Да." He turns his head and whistles to the old battleaxe, busily sweeping away, points at Lukas' plate of cabbage and gives her a questioning thumbs up. She glares at him, utterly unfazed by his charming grin. "Oh right, you called Veles Volos," he says, twisting his wrist to gesture upward with pointed finger. Of course.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Don't piss her off. She'll spit in your borscht." Lukas seems dead serious. He probably is. "Probably mine too next time I come here. So what's a black-irish boy like yourself doing speaking Russian?"

[Maddox] Maddox waves his hand. "That's just gives it an extra kick." For what it's worth, however, he makes a mental note to be extra nice when food and drink eventually gets to them. It'll be too late for those servings, but maybe it will save Lukas' future trips.

"Ah, not Irish, actually," he says, resting his hands atop the table and lightly drumming his fingers. "I'm a London mutt, so I guess there could be some leprechaun in me," he adds with a shrug of a shoulder. "And I get bored. I usually only stick around a town until I finish the book I got in the one before. 'Cept my new roommate's got about a billion, so looks like I'll be stuck here a while."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas laughs under his breath. Out of the blue the sturdy old broad whistles from across the room. As soon as Lukas's head turns, an empty shotglass comes sailing at his head. He catches it, more reflex than intent, and then sets it down for Maddox.

"Thanks!" he calls. The waitress is already disappearing into the back. "I believe she and her brother own the place," Lukas adds, pouring Maddox a shot of potato vodka.

"Are you one of the Rovers, then? Whispering, Wandering Rovers -- what is that camp's called?"

[Maddox] It's good that the Ahroun has reflexes, speed, and hand-eye coordination. If it had come at Maddox it more than likely would have popped him in the face before he knew what hit him. Maybe if it had, Maddox's cabbage could be saved from the old woman's saliva. All he can do is offer the woman a smile and a wave of gratitude. "I think she wants to eat my liver.

"Whispering," he corrects, scrunches his nose, and shakes his head. "Nah. If they were the Wandering Rovers, then maybe. But the Whisperers..." He flicks his brows upwards, huffs. "That'd require some sense of direction."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "I suppose Wandering would be redundant," Lukas muses. Refilling his own shotglass, he raises it to clink against Maddox's. "Na zdraví. To unspittled stuffed cabbages."

And gulp. He's too used to this sort of thing to grimace, but his eyes narrow for a moment; he breathes out evenly. Setting the shotglass down, he uses the side of his fork to cut another chunk of stuffed cabbage off; coats it in tangy sweet tomato sauce, eats it.

"So who are you running with these days, Maddox?" Lukas doesn't even bother being subtle about it; he says it flatout: "Because we've been looking for a Theurge for a few months now."

[Maddox] "&+1044;&+1083;&+1103; &+1076;&+1088;&+1091;&+1078;&+1073;&+1099; &+1084;&+1077;&+1078;&+1076;&+1091; &+1085;&+1072;&+1088;&+1086;&+1076;&+1072;&+1084;&+1080;." he responds back. Friendship between nations. Or tribes. Or Garou and angry waitresses. Then he, too, gulps back the drink. He pulls a face that's not quite a grimace, but not so controlled as Lukas'. Setting the shot glass back down, he rubs at the lower half of his face with his other hand.

And stops, watching the Ahroun. His dark eyes can be intense at times, but like so many others of his moon, also faraway. Tonight, the gaze is more direct.

"Just the spirits, mate. I haven't run with a pack since," he pauses, squinting one eye closed while he attempts to calculate, and shakes his head. "A long time. To be honest, I was gonna bugger off again, but there's some seriously bad mojo coming courtesy of our friend, Black Sun. Envy, strife, and that's just for starters. Kristen and I are going to see what we can do to hold it off, maybe keep it from tearing up the Umbra. I hadn't thought about sticking around longer than that," he answers truthfully.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "What keeps you moving?" Lukas asks, genuinely curious.

[Maddox] "It's not what keeps me moving," says Maddox. It's something he's thought about before, usually as he's shoving his belongings into his bag and getting ready to head off again. So the answer comes a little more readily than one might expect. "There's nothing to keep me in place. That and I get bored."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Bored, he says; the second time now. Restless rover. Quick-firing interest, flaring and then gone.

"Well," Lukas says, "I'm offering you something to keep you in place."

[Maddox] "That you are," he muses, considering his own hands. Tapping fingertips on the tabletop. A tether. A bond to other wolves. No more wandering, no more sad, lonely road. His gaze flicks up to Lukas' face. "You follow Perun, yeah?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas nods; then a faint smile. "Hard master. Can be way worse than Nana Babushka in there. Strong and unrelenting, and not one to look lightly on failure. Specifically: if you accept a challenge and fail, he goes away for a short while. If you issue a challenge and fail, he goes away for a long while while.

"That makes people think we're all about winning, but we're not. We're about only fighting the battles that count. Not the ones between Garou and Garou, tribe and tribe, but the ones against the Wyrm."

[Maddox] He chuckles. "Yyyyeah, you may have noticed when you were checkin' me out, but I'm not exactly rippling with muscles. I'm not big on unnecessary fights. Or challenges. And I'm not much of a healer, either, aside from what I can rope a spirit into. I work mostly in spirit contracts and dealings. If you're fine with all of that, consider me on board."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "We generally do all right with gourds and bandages," Lukas says, "but we could really use some help with spirits. I've been painting glyphs and doing raindances.

"I'll show you the Loft when we're done here," he adds. "It's Kate's, but she's pretty good about letting people stay there, or eat there, or swim there or whatever. We actually just got another prospective too. I promise," smiling, "it's not some sort of Rush Week for the Unbroken Frat or something. I met the both of you pretty much at the same time, and you're both ... well, potential good fits, I think.

"So. Yes. She's a Coggie by the name of Margaret. You should ask her about her deedname. It's an interesting story. You'll also meet Katherine there, if you haven't already, and Sarita. Sinclair's sort of a cameo these days, as she's taking care of business in San Diego, but you'll probably see her sooner or later.

"I think they're about to close," downing his last gulp of beef'n'cabbage, then washing it down with a shot of vodka. "We should probably get out of here before Nana Babushka chases us out with a broom."