lights out!

[Yvonne Miyake] "Of course, Andrea." She replies, about her own name. Extending her hands out to take the kit from the other woman, Yvonne offers a smile. "Just a small scratch. Nothing to be concerned about. I want to clean it out before covering it up." That's all. Rusty metals from the middle of Chicago have got to be carrying some nasty germs. She's not about to take her chances with it, no matter how small the cut was, and especially not with the sort of things she had seen in that area.

Tucking the kit under her arm, she turned from the closet. "I'll come and put it back when I'm finished. Maybe we can have that coffee later on." With a last glance, and a small smile of her pierced lip, the barely twenty-one year old headed for the communal bathroom to get herself cleaned up.

[Zeke] "Mmmm, yea'. Just a shame. Had that piece for a while..."

A hint of nostalgia runs through Zeke's voice, before he's pushing his way a little further into the Brotherhood's main kitchen area. If the kin present give glances or run eyes in their direction, Zeke pays little mind to it. There is a purpose for being here, after all.

"Anycase, Fomor was part of something bigger. Been catching whiffs around the Mile while on a few deliveries. The flip side" Zeke's and other's slang term for the Umbra "looks a little worse for wear. Weird black lines running through the fog and such. Spirits are scarce too."

He reaches the stairwell leading up to the second floor and begins the ascent.

"...Need to talk to one of the Pack's seers. Nice enough girl from my own tribe. Seems the best of the bunch according to gossip but then...that's gossip." He shrugs back at Matthias as he reaches the first landing and scales toward the second level.

"...And he may be No Moon, but at least he's a Fenrir. Says something about you and your Tribe, Matt. Bad ass knows no Moon sign."

[Matthias] "No one is molly-coddled... That is true."

Then, Matthias thinks for a short time, his brows knit once again in thought. With regard to kin in the kitchen staring at him... He seems oblivious or uncaring.

"Do you trust her, knowing your shared heritage? What was she promised to aid our cause?"

[Soledad Guttierez] Her sandwich had been cut in half, diagonally, like it ought to be when served at a restaurant. It took her about a minute and a half to finish her first half of the sandwich-- she ate slowly, took her time, not necessarily for the sake of savoring the taste or truely enjoying the food, but just because she was distracted and thoughtful. She could be intensely focused when she wanted to be, this showed when she was in the midst of a battle or when she was on the hunt, but at times like this she allowed herself to drift. No need to be on edge when you were in your den, especially not with so many other Garou and Kinfolk around to watch your back for you.

With the last bite of her first sandwich half popped into her mouth, chewed and swallowed, she found herself less hungry and more thirsty. So she looked at her plate for a couple of seconds, then rose to her feet, took the plate in one hand, and headed to the bar. A couple feet to Danicka's right, Soledad leaned up against the counter, her left arm folding to rest on the counter top, her right arm reaching out to set the plate on the tender's side of the bar.

The man (more a boy than a man, really) behind the bar was tall, thin (thinner than Sol even), with red hair and a fresh face. Soledad waited for him to notice her, then nodded to him and spoke in a voice that was a low alto, not quiet but not loud either, just clear and noticable. She had the kind of voice, and the kind of demeanor, where when she spoke you felt compelled to listen, because it was likely something that happened once in a blue moon.

"Danny-- my sandwich half to you for a house brew."

[Zeke] "Nothing. It was her cause as well apparently..."

He pauses at the top of the Stairs to glance up at Matt as the Ahroun joins him.

"Didn't so much suggest she help as I offered her and her pack the chance to get some Renown if they looked into some stuff. Nothing they couldn't handle and given our own numbers less then impressive roster at the moment, I didn't want to push us into something we couldn't handle right now. Got a few things to sort out before we go knee deep into it all again."

[Danicka Musil] If Soledad had spoken to Danny from her seat rather than getting up, it's possible that the blonde at the bar might have turned and looked at her in confusion. As it is, she maintains her straight posture when the dark-haired girl gets up and walks over to a space between barstools not far away. She offers the bartender half of her sandwich in exchange for a beer, which makes it seem like she actually does work here, or she and Danny are friends.

The woman in the velvet coat looks down at Soledad briefly, glances at Danny, and drinks her sidecar.

[Andrea Locke] "Of course, of course." She waves her hand in one of those occasional mannerisms she falls into, purely Iberian in origin, that tendency to talk expressively with ones hands -- in this case waving away any such worry about the First Aid kit -- some of her guests she can't trust to pick up after themselves. It's clear she doesn't put Yvonne in that category, thank God. "And, yes, the coffee will be delightful, I could use a cup right about now---"

The words are flowing from her lips, with ease and grace, cut off only when the oddest [the expected, the inevitable, the god damned price of not being able to hire a layman electrician] thing happens...
The lights go out all over the building.

Cast into sudden pitch darkness, given the absence of windows in the hall way, Andrea straightens abrubtly, blinking... blinking...

"....pigfucking sonuva swivin' pox ridden fish smellin' WHORE." Is shouted, grunted, growled from the common room.
Resisting the urge to slap a hand over her face, Andrea grimaces, her back mollars grinding slightly. "Carrajo, Reuben! Coño! Are you alright..." Using the light that comes from the common room - which does, indeed, have windows and is thus not quite as pitch as the hallway - she begins to pick her way back there.

[Sampson] Sampson pops in.
Literally.
In and down, as if he was higher up than the floor when he crossed over, rolls with the decreased velocity into the couch. Course, its suddenly dark. But that's ok.

[Andrea Locke] ooc: Alright, folks, if no one minds, Fianna Wonder over there just managed to fuck up the wiring in the building. If people DO mind, then I can just say it was the second floor. Otherwise it's building-wide.
to Andrew, Caleb Delacourt-Alden, Danicka Musil, Ewan Selwyn, Lukas Wyrmbreaker, Matthias, Sampson, Soledad Guttierez, Yvonne Miyake, Zeke

[Soledad Guttierez] (( I think building wide makes it more interesting! ))
to Andrea Locke, Andrew, Caleb Delacourt-Alden, Danicka Musil, Ewan Selwyn, Lukas Wyrmbreaker, Matthias, Sampson, Yvonne Miyake, Zeke

[Danicka Musil] [Building wide, definitely!]
to Andrea Locke, Andrew, Caleb Delacourt-Alden, Ewan Selwyn, Lukas Wyrmbreaker, Matthias, Sampson, Soledad Guttierez, Yvonne Miyake, Zeke

[Sampson] (Don't mind!)

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] ( Sorry. I was on the phone. Now wtf happened? )
to Andrea Locke, Andrew, Danicka Musil, Ewan Selwyn, Lukas Wyrmbreaker, Matthias, Soledad Guttierez, Yvonne Miyake, Zeke

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] 11:30pm is a perfectly reasonable time to get up. Lukas' room door opens; the Ahroun comes out, yawning, rumpled, his hair sticking up in the back, not paying anyone anywhere any heed.

He has his toothbrush, toothpaste, shaving cream and straight razor in a colorful plastic mug, a clean towel over his shoulder. The shower stall door shuts behind him; the towel, then his pajama bottoms, are thrown over the door. Still yawning, he whisks the curtain shut. The water blasts on.

....

Annnnd then all the lights go out. Shit, Lukas thinks, I hope the hot water doesn't --

"FUCK." The hot water runs out. Ice cold water starts blasting from the showerhead. "FUCK." The sound of shower curtain whisking back open, then a confusion of wet feet on wet tiles, a clatter of curtain rings popping loose from the curtain, a rather painful thump of someone's bareassed self slipping and falling. "Ow!"

[Matthias] The large blond man nods, considering while his heavy soled boots clomp their way up the steps. Steel gray eyes look at Zeke in quiet contemplation, just in time for the lights to go out.

Wordlessly, a large bowie knife is eased out of its scabbard beneath the green button up shirt. Held in his free hand, whilst the other remains on the railing, Matthias waits...

Giving Zeke a solid 5 seconds to proceed into the room before he starts forward again, as quietly as he can manage. Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps it was an attack. Regardless, Odin's Eye would not to be caught unprepared...

[Yvonne Miyake] Yvonne, just a few strides down the hall, stops as the place descends into darkness. Reuben's curse has an immediate reaction, a merry and delighted laugh that flows from where the Kinfolk had been standing. And still, with the undercurrent of her laughing tone, she called back towards Andrea and Reuben both,

"By the sounds of it, he's had better times."

Placing her hand to the wall, she navigates her way towards and into the bathroom. She was staying in room seven, so she knew the block of it well enough. Creeping through there when everyone was sleeping was something of a thing she already required. Waking sleeping Garou wasn't ever high on her list.

.. Right to the bathroom door where she hears cursing. Male cursing. Part of her hopes the lights come on now. In fact, she prays it does. Her smirk is concealed in the dark.

[Andrea Locke] ooc: Because someone just thought to ask: The fire in the fireplace downstairs runs on wood. Ya won't freeze, heh.
to Andrew, Caleb Delacourt-Alden, Danicka Musil, Ewan Selwyn, Lukas Wyrmbreaker, Matthias, Sampson, Soledad Guttierez, Yvonne Miyake, Zeke

[Soledad Guttierez] Danny did his job well as a tender, every drink he served he served with a brightfaced smile and an excess of cheer. With the outrageous (and growing) number of Garou kept in the building, he had become increasingly jittery, so his smiles had a bit of a nervous edge to them, and he talked just a little faster than usual, but he was still pleasant, still eager to please. A little bumbling, not necessarily charming, but difficult to dislike anyways.

Soledad offered him her sandwich half, and he responded, when he came over, with a laugh. The girl was eerie and intense, but weren't all Garou deep down? This one's animal was just closer to the surface, that's all. So long as she didn't take his throat out he could be nice with her. "No problem at all, Sol. But I don't want to take your sandwich from you. Besides, don't tell Andrea, but I've been sneaking muffins and bear claws here and there." He winked, he grinned, and he turned to fetch a drink.

Then all went dark. The fire flickering in the fireplace cast enough light for people to see shapes and shadows, but not faces, not for how big the restaurant was. There was some light from the flickering streetlamps outside casting a touch of light on the floors and tables near the windows, but at the bar, in the center of the room, it was at its darkest.

Danny grumbled something under his breath, made a comment about Reuben's handiman attempts.

Soledad straightened up and glanced around, but said nothing.

[Zeke] "You be-"

Zeke blinks as Matthias, the second floor and the rest of the world inside the Brotherhood goes into darkness. The lights flicker off and the Ragabash freezes in place. As Matt measures out the usual five second run these sudden situations demand, Zeke is on pause, listening to the sudden eruption of voices and sounds that come with the lights off.

"Matt..." Zeke pauses. "I heard the blade come out. Let's not get hasty. I think this is mundane..." I think. The pack had not been the most stable of sorts. Not for a while now. If paranoia had a comfortable bedmate, the Cackling Shadow would more then likely have been it.

"...Ummm..." Zeke lifts his voice a little higher so as to be heard within the halls and open corridors of the Second floor "...Don't suppose this is an attack or something? If it isn't, that's good. If it is, could you, ya know, give me a sign so I can start pissing myself or something more useful?"

There is the faintest...faintest...absolutely most vague edge of mirth in Zeke's tone as he takes a few meddling steps forward into the under-lit confines of the second floor.

[Barcode] *A shadow shifts though an alley a block or so north of the Brotherhood. A bit of a slip on some ice and a hand reaches out to grip the corner and catch the man from falling. A pause is effected there and the guy glances up and down the street before sloughing though the snow and slush to step out onto the sidewalk.

He's not clad in what most would call designer duds. Sneakers, well worn in, thick wool socks. A pair of cargo pants that might have started off as a gray but have been worn till they're now a permanent dark charcoal color. A hoody in a dark crimson with a simplistic rat's head on it in black, hood up, and lastly a surplus jacket from some war before this one, the many pockets full of this and that.

Feet were put, one in front of the other. Slowly pressing against the onshore freezing wind off the lake and approaching the Brotherhood.

As the lights went out, the man paused, face deep in shadow of the raised hood and peered though the window, then moving to the door. Opening it and stepping inside, turning to push it firmly closed, then slowly turning to look around the room. The light from the fire, not quite sufficient to show his face*

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] Caleb was off in his own reverie, staring into the flames when the lights suddenly went out. He had the cup of coffee halfway to his lips before the event occured. Calmly, casually, he set the cup aside by the burning logs in the fireplace. A reddish glow was cast around the room from the flames, giving a bit of light.

The lights faltering suddenly gave him two things to think about: An attack, or a power-out. Given the time of year a power-outtage was likely, but even then it would of been probably the entire block that went down. In large cities, things like this didn't happen the way they did in rural towns. The Silver Fang stood and slipped off his black-suade three-quarters coat. A hand went to his wrist, as he drew out the sword dedicated there from his flesh when no one was looking.

"Andrea?" he called out, seeking the woman whom he knew to run the establishment. Hopefully she remembered him being a friend to Mrena and Katherine. "What has happened?"

[Barcode] *The tall man by the door stiffened when the dude by the fire drew a sword. Hands slowly raised, clad in gloves, held out in that universal sign of placation* Whoooa there... I come in peace?

[Andrew] There came a grumbling and muttering from the fifth room on the second floor. End of the long main hall back to the bedrooms. A door creaked faintly as it opened at the end. A vaguely man-sized and shaped form moved into the space of the window, silhoutted there for a moment. Then faint footsteps as he started down the hallway.

And paused infront of room three, where Mrena usually slept. His hand didn't lift from his side as he banged twice, with the bottom of his hand, on the door. "White Eyes." A barking statement, more than a question.

[Andrea Locke] It is likely a good thing that Matthias thinks to allow Zeke the Point position of the night -- Andrea would generally not appreciate being eviscerated and she is just walking past the door to the stairs when the pair enter... which brings her rather to a sharp halt to avoid a full collision with Zeke -- better yet described as an absolute stranger. To her credit, she doesn't scream so a half-strangled sound does cloy its way along her throat.

"Meirda!" It comes out, low and brutal. A hand is somewhere over her erratically beating heart, but, otherwise, she manages to keep her wits about her, shaking her head though the motion is all in all useless in the dark. "No, señor... not an attack. Unless one considers bumbling, pigheaded old men to be a general attack of some sort which may actual be the truest words ever spoken. And, really, I'd prefer you not piss yourself either way... horrible smell, urine..."

"Dontcha go mouthin' off, dammit, Andy, get in 'ere n' elp get me the fuckin' torch ' oi'll 'ave it right in -- AUGH." A thud, a loud one, says that Reuben isn't so good at climbing down ladders in the dark.

This time Andrea does slap her palm to her face with a groan, then moves past Zeke, feeling her way along, her heels clicking along the floorboards as she goes, like so much Morse Code in the dark. "Are you hurt? You'd better be hurt... If not I will remedy the situation!" She snaps the words, though, in truth, concern laces the undertones.

[Yvonne Miyake] [maybe just a small suggestion, people are starting to get confused. If we put a quick *Upstairs* before our posts, or *Downstairs* so we know who is where might help keep track of whats going on.]
to Andrea Locke, Andrew, Barcode, Caleb Delacourt-Alden, Danicka Musil, Lukas Wyrmbreaker, Matthias, Sampson, Soledad Guttierez, Zeke

[Matthias] ((Upstairs))
In the dark, Matthias smiled grimly. Zeke knew how to make a joke, even in the darkest of times. Still, hasty or not, Matthias waited. Unwilling, unable, or both to give up the advantage of weaponry. Old lessons died hard. Men died easily. Garou were somewhere in between.

Then, as the false alarm is called by some woman in the dark, Matthias sheathes the bowie knife and speaks again.

"The Trojans thought the horse was mundane."

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] [Downstairs]

Falcon's Eyes cutted to the owner of the voice by the door quickly. The sword was raised, but not in challenge for the moment. It was also held in one hand, but it could be noted by the ease and familiarity Caleb carried with the weapon that he was no slouch or stranger to using it with deadly accuracy. "Who are you?" he asked, calmly but sternly. "Did you cause this?"

This, meaning the lights going out. Coming out from behind the circle of chairs, Caleb was half the distance to the door and still making no threatening moves. One eye was kept on the stranger, while the other swept around the room looking for possible threats to immobilize. Seeing none for the moment, he scabbarded the sword back into his arm where it turned to an ordinary looking tattoo.

Muttering something in French, he looked up and called out again. "Andrea?" he said, louder this time before casting a look to the hooded man. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the zippo lighter with a spitfire skateboarding logo on the front. It was a talen, containing a fire elemental, but he didn't release it. Instead he flicks the lighter, lighting it as he starts to head for the stairs carrying his make-shift torch. He also kept a firm mental control over the zippo so that the elemental wouldn't escape and blow the place up.

[Sampson] (upstairs) Sampson is at the door instead, since his packmate is not. Course, he came from the general direction of the couch, having unravelled himself and stood up. No blood, but a hell of a lot of energy.
"She is not free. What do you want?" The sounds of his Nandi accent are smooth, calm, which means he's defintely up to no good, and they are coming from behind Andrew.

[Zeke] (Upstairs)

Zeke maintains a certain level of 'calm'. That is, he pulls up short where Andrea is concerned and reaches for the weapon that is not there anymore. Which brings about a very quiet 'Fuccckk' while she is explaining about the lack of an attack. This brings about a quieter sigh of relief and a glance back at the larger silhouette of a man behind him.

"We're good, Matt." Andrea doesn't really get much of a reply, both for lack of something to say in regards to her comments as well as her need to assist the fellow that's gone and dumped himself into disrepair. It leaves Zeke and Matt on the second floor landing for a moment. Zeke pulls forward, letting his eyes adjust, flicking across the open space of the brotherhood's second floor common room.

"...Yea' but the Trojans had some fun and drank like Kings before they felt like fools the next morning."

Zeke's attention turns to one of the Hallways, where the sound of banging and voices can be heard.

"Hmmm...Mrena's supposed to be living in one of these rooms but there's no way I'm playing Nicky Nine door with this much Fur and Fang under one roof." He moves gingerly toward the couches that sit in the middle of the common room, careful not to bump into too many things along the way.

[Andrea Locke] *Downstairs*
People get nervous when the lights suddenly go out. And given the general influx of Rage-radiating patrons to the restaurant, the mundane-sorts of humans were already a might keyed up to begin with. There are murmurs of confusion, tense and irritable. A few shaky laughs. One man calls out that he wants his damned check. Now.

Jennifer Coltrane emerges from the Kitchen, stepping in through the swinging doors that are between the bakery counter and the fireplace. She's wearing an apron, and hastily drying her hands with a dishcloth, squinting in the dim lighting of the restaurant. All in all, it isn't pitch black here -- there is the fire place and there are candles upon the tables. While certainly darker and moodier than those humans like - given the tingling in their spines - it isn't impenetrable darkness by any means.

"Ah, excuse me, Ladies n' Gentlemen... seems my husband has gone and set us back a century or so. Everythin' in the kitchen is back up on generators and the stoves are gas run, so we're good there. If we could all just wait a moment, I'll let you know soon enough what is going on. No cause for alarm at all, folks."

[Soledad Guttierez] [Downstairs]

The faint sound of metal sliding out of a sheathe into the air touched Soledad's ears, and the sensation of something spiritual rippling through the air fluttered against her skin, against her soul. She blinked once, unconcerned with her beer or the sandwich at this point, and turned around to look at the man standing by the fire... wielding a sword.

She blinked once, blinked twice, then scowled heavily and shook her head. Her hand tapped the counter once, then she turned around, hitched her elbows up on the countertop behind her, and leaned her weight against it. Her ankles crossed, and she spoke in that alto voice of hers that carried quite well, even in the confusion of the darkness.

"Your reaction is unecessary. You're skiddish like a colt."

The man she'd never seen or met before shoved his sword... back into his arm... He then grabbed a lighter from his pocket, flicked the flame on, and made his way back into the kitchen. Soledad's eyes followed him, hard and cold, shadowed by low-pressed scowling eyebrows. This she certainly logged into her memory, they'd address this later.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] UPSTAIRS:

"Ow," Lukas is still saying -- quietly now, to himself, because goddammit, if you just slipped and fell on your ass on bathroom tiles, cracking your hipbone on the way down too, you'd be in pain too. "Ow, fuck." The rustle of the shower curtain. Hm, he doesn't remember it coming down this far ... aw shit, he pulled it off the rings. He wads it up and tosses it aside. The water's still blasting, the sound changing now as he throws the curtain under it.

He gets up to his feet, wincing, reaches under the icy spray to wrench the shower off. Then, by memory and feel, he finds the door to his shower stall, whipping the towel off the door and wrapping it around his waist.

He fumbles the lock open, then, stepping out into the bathroom proper. It's pitchblack in here too; no windows, only fans in vents. His raised hand finds the shape of opened shower stall doors -- he seems to remember he picked the third one from the door, and counts his way back. His hand contacts the wall, and from there, the bathroom door.

Shoving it open, he steps out. Compared to the total darkness of the bathroom, the hallway is merely dim, and the common room, with its windows, is nearly bright -- ambient streetlight filtering in enough that he can see shadows and shapes.

No one's in a good mood. Some people are worried about attacks. Lukas, for his part, just got doused in frigid water and then dropped on his ass by the slippery floor. There are strangers on the second floor, or at least, relative strangers. Zeke's voice rings a bell; he can't remember where from.

"What do you want of Mrena?" he demands of the pair.

[Barcode] (Downstairs) *Barcode watched Caleb's actions and tilted his head. A bit of a pause and a glance around the fire illuminated room* Depends on your definition of 'this' might contain at the moment.... *He certainly didn't cause the sword to be whipped out or returned to one's flesh. Moving laterally from the door he headed towards the bar, the light from the fireplace reflecting off of his eyes under the hood. As he got there, hands explored the dimensions of the stool before one leg was hiked up and he sort of half sat. Keeping his eyes on the swordsman heading for some stairs.

Another shake of his head and fingers quest into a few pockets before coming out with a small "pocket" maglight. It's twisted on and he turns looking at Soledad, who was a bit closer. His features under the hood wern't ugly, but the man looked drawn. Perhaps ill. Hard to tell in this light* Good evening miss... might I trouble you for a glass of... water.. and a lime?

[Yvonne Miyake] Upstairs.

Amusing herself as she listens to Lukas shuffle around in the bathroom and move his way out from the stalls to the room proper and then beyond, Yvonne had stayed quiet the entire time with the first aid kit under her arm and her shoulder just to the wall inside the bathroom. Her dancing eyes are hidden in the darkness, much to everyone's relief. Imagine if they found a Kin laughing in their face when it came to already bruised egos.

Waiting until he has moved beyond, she set the medical kit on the floor and pushed it against the wall with a foot. She'd come back for it later to fix herself proper. But for now she felt her way to the basin, having let her eyes adjust to what darkness there has been, and turned on the water. Her jacket whispered off her shoulders and fell to the floor. The scarf soon followed and buttons of her top was undone until she could bare her right shoulder. Scooping water in a hand she rubbed it on the raw and tender area, cleaning it by feel of her fingers, caring little of the frigid water and their staining drops on her clothes.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (speak of the devil! *clever*)

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] Pausing in his venture to the stairs, Soledad makes a comment, after the Coltrane woman speaks. There was a nod for the woman from the kitchens, but his eyes found Soledad as the owner of the voice and quirked an eyebrow at her. The sword was drawn from the arm, and replaced hence. Perhaps it might of sounded like metal on leather, but he wasn't in the mood to take note of it. "There is a difference between caution and fear," he said caustically to her. "Until I ask for your opinion, keep your teeth together."

Turning his attention back to Barcode, he shrugged. "Apparently not," he said. "My apologies, good sir."

Holding the lighter aloft, he ascended the stairs casually to find the others.

[Zeke] (AH HA. AH HA. Ahhhhh...)

[Matthias] ((Upstairs))

"What business is it of yours?"

Matthias folds his arms over his chest while waiting in the common room upstairs with Zeke, watching the now nude Lukas as he challenges the pair. He has not sat, indeed... Much for his sheathing of the large bowie knife, he still seems ready to be pounced on by a horde of Wyrm creatures at any given moment. He seems... relaxedly tense, like a coiled spring.

Steel gray eyes look through the dark at the nude man... unblinking in a grim visage.

[Andrew] [upstairs] He turns his head and looks directly at Sampson, even in the darkness. Then grunts irritably. "Wanted to talk to her." It's that simple. And the implication that it's none of Sampson's business is simple too.

But he hears the dulcet tones of Lukas nearby. His head tilts. His senses, already stretched out further than most, picking up the man's scent wafting through the interior. Andrew lifts his head, sniffs a few times, and then walks the short distance around the public bathrooms to Lukas. Approaching him from behind quietly, but chuffing softly to alert the man of his presence.

[Sampson] Why does everyone want Mrena now? What is this?
Suspicion there, but the Ragabash has the Andrew covered at least. Sort of. More covered than Lukas is.
Now Andrew moves to Lukas.
In the darkness, the ragabash disappears. No sight. No scent except water, and that already fills the floor from Lukas's shower. Gifts conceal him.

[Zeke] "...Matt."

The tone isn't stern but cautionary. Zeke settles into the couch with a comfortable sort of air, cracking knuckles like popcorn cooking, the sound a sharp static through the entire floor.

"Easy. Foreign turf here, remember? Diplomatic anonymity." Zeke motions at Matt, points at one of the couches nearby.

[Soledad Guttierez] [Downstairs]

The pretty blonde woman disappeared in the darkness, out the door, and that was probably one of the wisest moves she's seen all night. Danny, still fussing behind the counter, was on the back of Sol's mind as well now. She found a flashlight beam being cast to her midsection, illuminating her face but not blinding her, and she turned her head to look at the man with the flashlight, who was addressing her like a waitress. Her expression was completely deadpanned.

"...I'm not a waitress." He was lucky to even get that much from her. The poor guy didn't know better. A gesture was made with her thumb, back toward the red-haired man behind the counter, to signify that he was the one the man with the hood should talk to.

And then Caleb told her, quite bluntly, to keep her mouth shut unless she was spoken to first. The way that her Rage rose in response to that comment was best described as a force of nature-- a hurricane or a twister. It was a low roar, a rumbling on the horizon, and after a couple of moments it became stronger, more intense, an insistant hum, almost insect like, of heat and electricity about the Ahroun. Her back teeth set together, hard enough for her jaw to ache just a little, and Soledad pushed herself away from the bar to follow Caleb up the stairs.

Her tongue was still for now, she was silent, but her fists were clenched at her sides. It was not difficult to tell what the Uktena was feeling judging by the fact that her black eyes had gone from cool and distant to sharp and angry.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] For the record, Lukas is not traipsing around nude. He is wearing a towel tucked around his waist, one hand on the fold -- though the truth is if a fight were to break out, he'd probably let go the towel and let it do as it pleases.

Andrew comes from behind; he chuffs, but still, Lukas moves so that he is at right angles to both Zeke and Matthias, and Andrew.

"She's my packmate, and I am her Beta." Lukas replies, flatly. In the darkness he's just a shadow, imposing, his skin dark against the pale blur of his bath towel. "That's my business. Now what do you want of her? Don't make me ask again."

And totemic: I'd like to know that myself.

[Zeke] (Ohhh mannnn! Who the hell would have thought a simple blackout could mix into a cauldron of frothy doom!)

[Barcode] (Downstairs)

*Barcode watched the interaction with Caleb and his reply. A slight shake of his head and he shook the little maglight when it flickered and threatened to go out.* Ahhh. Sorry. Saw the towel and.. I'm so... *Soledad got PISSED at Caleb and headed after him.

Being a naturally curious person, Barcode's head turned to follow the pair. Then a few finger taps on the bar and he slipped off his stool and went to follow* Charming guy, that?

*Not that he overly much cared if Soledad fucked up Caleb from behind, but he at least wished to watch.*

[Sampson] the ragabash strider sends his position to his beta, for whatever steps he takes, no one is watching him.

[Sampson] Behind the two new ones.
His position is simple, and ready.
to Lukas Wyrmbreaker

[Yvonne Miyake] Upstairs:

Quietly hissing under her breath, she poked and prodded and generally irritated the wound in her shoulder until she was sure that the water had done what it could. For now she'd leave fondling bottles in the darkness, she didn't want to be splashing something she shouldn't be into an open wound, however small it could be.

Buttoning her top back up, relying on the feel of her fingers, she listened to the conversations going on in the hall. All men, speaking about a single female Garou. She hopes that there are more of them to level the odds. No wonder this place stank. It was all the testosterone.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] [Upstairs, now.]

As Caleb came to the landing, he saw something he quite didn't expect. A nude man, that Andrew that made Caleb's hackles rise, and some others he didn't recognize. Soledad was nearly at his heels, a ball of anger and fury packed into a woman's frame. She was ignored for now, though he did cast one look over his shoulder at her. If the woman had any scrap of honor, she wouldn't attack from behind. Not here.

They were talking about Mrena, it had become apparent. That meant the nude man was Mrena's beta, this Lukas she had mentioned. The light cast off by the lighter was flickering softly, the metal growing almost uncomfortable to hold due to the flame. In a moment he was going to have to put it out.

As Caleb positioned himself, with his back against a wall. Sampson was right beside the theurge, but he didn't know of the man's presence just yet. A No-Moon's gifts were useful things, for stealth and hiding. "I take it someone has been playing with the fuse box," he said nonchalantly.

[Zeke] (*snickers* He isn't naked! Just towel'd)

[Andrea Locke] *UPSTAIRS*
Great. Absolutely fantastic. She has a 50-something-year-old man to help up from the floor [though the thought of kicking him when he's down may very well cross her mind, truth be told], a business literally in the dark, god only knows what the state of affairs is downstairs... and now the Garou have decided to get edgey with one another.

"In all honesty, viejo, I don't think the electrician would have caused this much trouble... ugn." Reuben is rather a well-built man and has lost none of that in his middle-age... so Andrea's helping him to his feet requires no little amount of effort on her part. But, you know, don't anyone rush to help or anything. God knows, people are looking for Mrena.
"Oi, cheers then... Oye'm fine, yeh. Leave off girl.... Jenny'll flay me I aggrivate that cut... Oye'm fine, Oye say!"
"Fine! Terco ingrato! Now... can you fix it?"
" 'Corse Oye can, woman! Give us a mo'! Jus' got t'get downstairs is all... might want t'boot out those downstairs though... could take a mite."

By that point Reuben is rummaging in his tool box, find a flashlight, clicks it on and proceeds to heft up the box and make his way towards the stairs, presumably to try and fix the problem, albeit with a slight limp now.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (dude i thought reuben fell DOWN the stairs. i'd written him off as dead. HAHAHA.)

[Andrea Locke] ooc: (dies) Heartless bastard -- he fell down a couple steps of the ladder.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] ( ...And in come the Lasombra pack raid.)

[Andrea Locke] ooc: Had it been the stairs he would have yelled "Yaaaa hoo-hoo-hooie" like goofey. (smirks)

[Matthias] ((Upstairs))

"Very well. She offered to speak to a something for us. As I have not spoken with her directly, I will allow my associate to elaborate."

Matthias watches quietly, then abruptly moves closer to where Zeke is seated. Blond brows knit silently in the darkness, wary... watchful...

[Yvonne Miyake] [please please get into a fight. Yvonne wants to see naked, wrestling male Garou. Andrea and her can sit back with some wine with score cards.]

[Matthias] ((Mel - Much fun as it sounds, I'll probably have to go before too much longer. Dunno if I have enough time left for nude wrestling.))

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] ( Will someone post already? )

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Introductions would be appreciated." Lukas cuts in. He doesn't snap; his tone is level. Nonetheless, there's a finality to it.

There's light now -- a flickering flame from Caleb's lighter. He comes from behind the pair of strangers, and thus they are backlit, their features indistinct. Lukas has the (dis)advantage of direct lighting, but then, he's farther from the stairs as well. They get a sense of his hard, warhoned body; his height; the way he stands with his balance distributed between his feet, his strength coiled but not quite tensed.

His face is difficult to make out. Wide, high cheekbones -- narrow, wideset eyes, some pale, glittering color that catches the faltering light. His breeding is indubitably Shadow Lord.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (IT'S BEEN 4 MINUTES. HOLDJER HAWSES, COWBOY.)

[Sampson] (omg lukas is hard and in a towel!)

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] (*impatient. chomps at the bit.*)

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (facepalm. going back IC now.)

[Soledad Guttierez] Soledad was perhaps five steps behind Caleb. She didn't stomp her feet, didn't charge after him, but she stalked instead, moved at an even pace. The man following her up the stairs was more or less ignored. If he felt entitled to go through the kitchen in order to get up the stairs, then she assumed that he had a right to do so. She wasn't security, wasn't a bouncer, it wasn't her job to chase people off from places they shouldn't be. There were paid folks for that.

So Caleb moved out of the way of the mouth of the stairwell, and added to the crowd that was gathered in the common room. The grumpy old black man, growling about his fall and cuts and wife, made his way downstairs, and Soledad stepped aside for him to do so. From the sound of it, Reuben had been trying to fix the electricity (was there something wrong to begin with?) and cut out everything for the whole building. There were voices she didn't recognize, but she wasn't too worried about that now.

Eyes skimmed from one figure to the next, then landed on the focus of her ire-- Caleb's shoulder and side. In a tone of voice that was surprisingly even for how high the degree of her Rage was at this moment, she spoke to him, her voice clear and carrying as though she were addressing the whole room or speaking publicly.

"You are aware that your stunt downstairs with the sword very well could have been seen by one of the human patrons of this establishment? And that you are damn lucky that you recieved no points, screams, or demands of explaination?"

[Zeke] Zeke sighs, loud and prolonged. The air on the second floor was growing a tad stifling as the Rage[/b[ began to pile up in the corridors and hallways. Shadows were stark and heavily edged from the scraps of light coming in off the various windows, and Caleb's fluttering zippo flame, making each movement from the surrounding Horde of gathered patrons rather abrupt and peripherally nerve wracking...

...Or was that the [b]Rage too?

"...All things considered? This place is getting a touch choked. Irritation in an open place with this much heat could spell wrong in a whole other way. In a closed area like now? Riot town.."

Reuben comes piling out of the room, Andrea quite possibly in his wake, the elderly Kin crashing headlong into the swimming whirlpool of Luna's mixed blessing. Vaguely concussive, especially as Soledad comes storming up the stairwell, shoving more of that ozone-stink fury under his and everyone else's noses. The old man probably makes a quick escape down the stairs, even as Soledad's voice lifts into the already tense air.

"...Yea'..." He flicks a glance up at Matt. "We'll do this later. Mrena can wait. I'll try and catch her tomorrow." He lifts off the couch and glances up at Lukas. "Name's Zeke. Just need to talk to your Seer about something she brought up. Info. Can do it another time. You understand." It wasn't a request or a bold faced demand. It was more a logical plea for space from...well...

...This.

Zeke makes his way around the couch, seemingly intent on the stairwell and the door.

[Zeke] (HTML how I loathe thee)

[Barcode] *When Soledad stopped he did as well, the light from his small flashlight pointed down at the floor now. A bit of a cough. Not one of those "pay attention to me" coughs. Just a normal cough, covered by his other hand and an absent wiping of his nose. Listneing he watched the interactions and peered up the stairs from under the hood of his hoodie. A slight shuffeling of his feet and he nodded to the guy descending and absently looked away as the guy passed.

Then Zeke is standing and heading for the stairs. Eyes peer up into the dimness and Barcode gives the man a bit of a nod, his shadowy face looking drawn, but slightly amused*

[Yvonne Miyake] Leaving her jacket under the basin, pushed out of the way and against the wall where the medical kit awaits, she ran her hands over her hair and began for the door. Her fingers trailed across the wall and the other was gently placed out in front of her to stop from face planting into any (hard - couldn't help myself) surfaces.

Avoiding where everyone was crowded by the stairwell, she slipped through the second floor, along the hall and in towards the common room where the sofas was. She recalled, with ease, where the ladder had been and how the lay out was. Keeping to the wall, she found the recliner tucked away in the corner, behind the pool table and a good deal away from the stair well.

She patted it first, double checking that there wasn't already someone in it, before she slipped down over the arms edge and made herself comfortable. There was a voice that stuck out in the darkness.

Before Zeke could run off, her Asian accented voice slipped through the air and was probably lost in the chorus of everyone else talking, but she had said it anyway. "Is that you Lincoln Chauffeur?"

[Andrew] [upstairs] He grunted and stepped back a bit. Waiting. Obviously Zeke and Matthias had some things that needed being said to Lukas before Lukas had time for telling him about things like where Mrena had wandered off too.

In the flickering half-light thrown off by the lighter his eyes seemed to almost glow, a flicker of gold behind the usual brown. He had no shirt, only sweatpants, and the many scars and irregularties in the skin of his chest threw strange shadows across his flesh.

Hanging from his hand, limply, and looking rather snakelike was.... well... a snake. The light glitters in its dead glassy eyes. The diamond-shaped patterns on its back standing out.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] No one in this city knows how to do a bloody introduction, Lukas grouses.

"My name is Lukas Wyrmbreaker, Cliath Ahroun of the Shadow Lords, Beta of the Unbroken Circle." He says this before Zeke has even quite turned away; his gaze is direct, and he's obviously waiting for some response from the pair.

[the devil] (okay, I am totally coming IC)

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (............. *says nothing.*)

[Sampson] (Upstairs, giftedly DAMNED hard to find)
So teach them manners. You scratch politeness off your balls. Flick some at them.
At some signal from Lukas, the Silent Strider-- and yeah, he's actually silent just now, enjoy it while it lasts-- makes sure that in the flickering shadows, no one from the pack blocks the way of Zeke and Matthias to leave. Least of all himself.

[Matthias] ((Upstairs))

"I am Matthias."

Matthias, for his part, grins grimly at Lukas as he follows Zeke to the stairwell... His demeanor and step without concern, much as his heavy soled footfalls effectively cover Zeke's back. Still, that relaxed tension, that seeming like a coiled spring, remained...

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] The zippo clicked shut, extinguishing the flame and plunging the room back into total darkness except for those that had flashlights and the like. Soledad seemed to try and scold him like he was some child, a foolish one at that. For the moment she was ignored, and spoke to the whole room that seemed to now be only Kin and Garou.

Lukas demanded introductions. It made sense. He didn't know many of these people. "Le Compte de Morres, Caleb Delacourt-Alden, Darkensky to the Nation, theurge of the Silver Fangs. Scion of House Gleaming Eye, Protector of the Wood." That would work for now, as he turned his attention back to Soledad.

"Their eyes are not as good as ours in the dark," he said. "The humans were busy worrying about the light and what had happened, not one man. Are you aware that you are over-reacting? And that instead of a simple fuse being blown or a breaker tripped, that something nefarious could of been at hand? Personally, Nameless Woman, I like to be cautious. Do not question my methods, for you do not know me."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] There's something, some sound, low and soft, deep in Lukas' chest.

"I'll have the rest of it, tribe and auspice and rank."

[Zeke] ...Zeke freezes in place as his eyes catch sight of the familiar face on the Stairwell. The bewildered look is accompanied by a-

"...Bar, what the hell-"

And then a call from a familiar voice, that sets a random muscle in his face to twitching without provocation, his head snapping around toward the direction Yvonne was enunciating from, which is accompanied by a-

"...The fuck are you doin' here-"

Followed closely by the terrible proper introduction from, yet, another Thunder. This brings Zeke's shoulders up and his head lower, turning in place to thrust his head in Lukas' direction, eyes narrowing out of some inborn reflex, before everything expands back into a normal sort of...well, paranoia. A quick glance as Matthias introduces himself, in brief, then toward Lukas again.

"Ahhh. You're the Lukas." Like the Ahroun 'Lord was some display model on a shelf somewhere. Zeke doesn't respond right away, lifting his gaze up toward Matthias, a small shrug offered that was both a How the hell? and a Why not?.

"Zeke." He states, turning back to Lukas. "Name's Zeke. The nation called me Host~of~Traitors. Ragabash, Cliath of the Shadowlords. Part of the Cackling Shadow." A deep breath and he rolls his shoulders as Caleb and Soledad's conversation continues into more confrontational realms.

"...And Matthias and I, were just leaving." Once again turning to the Stairwell, motioning at Barcode with a quick (It is Not frantic) flash of his hands, to go back down.

[Zeke] (*meek* Sorry about the big post...)

[Andrea Locke] Perhaps spurred on by the amount of rage now amassing in the upstairs common room, Reuben doesn't linger. He makes his way by any assorted Garou in his path, moving to circumvent them, yes, but obviously with a goal in mind, Garou Issues notwithstanding.

Andrea lingers for the moment -- not because she has any great desire to be around all this, but rather due to Yvonne's re-entrance to the common room, the sound of her accented voice as she addresses one of the two strange Garou. In the dim light of the large, open space, Andrea slowly and unobtrusively moves towards the Asian woman, the better to grab her and yank her into a joint run if something were to happen. Something being a highly flexible, though generally bloody word when it comes to unknown Garou tersely demanding and making introductions. And, more so, an Ahroun calling out another Garou on an apparent near-breech of the Veil, something that does cause Andrea's eyes to narrow as her gaze slips over towards Caleb, briefly.

[Zeke] Zeke turns to stare back at Lukas again, brow cocked.

"...You've got my name. That's all for now. We'll intro up proper when there isn't so much heat in the air."

[Barcode] *The hooded man seemingly at the bottom of the pile up just softly shook his head. A sneeze, covered by his hand follows and then he looks back up the stairwell. A couple of intros are tossed back and forth and then a hand signal.

Click the little maglight is clicked off and returned to pocket. The room a bit dimmer now for it's lack of illumination. The hooded figure at the bottom of the stairs steps back to let folks down and though. Moving to follow Zeke and Matt should they make it down and not be stopped with more conversation. If they are stopped. He just waits. Seemingly content to be mostly ignored.*

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "I'm the Lukas," replies the Ahroun with a ghastly sort of smile, all teeth, no humor. "And I'm speaking to your packmate now."

The 'packmate' bit is inferred. It's not hard to -- it's in their body language.

(...er. presuming they ARE packmates.)

[Zeke] (AHAHAHAHAH!)

[Barcode] *Peek! The hooded head peeks back around the wall and up the stairs.*

[Zeke] ...To which, Zeke sighs and turns to Matt. There was no order given or permission granted here. Zeke just waited, as if this decision were measured by the individual need/desire.

[Soledad Guttierez] Soledad's teeth grind, and her voice rises when she responds to Caleb. He chose to answer Lukas first, whatever, she didn't care. When he turned to address her, though, speaking as though he were high and mighty and more intelligent than she by far, her consideriably lengthy fuse (for an Ahroun) was chopped down to its last centimeter of length.

"So you base your protection of the Veil on assumptions? You assume that no human is looking your way, and draw a full fucking sword from your arm in the middle of a bar, by the sole source of light available, and simply assume that humans are dull both of mind and eye, that they will not be concerned about you and your sword, and will be too busy clucking over the failed light to notice?"

Her voice grew louder here, just short of a yell, and she hit the heel of her hand against the wall beside her, echoing a loud 'thump' through the stairwell she hovered at the mouth of. Rage positively blazed off her in its own force of heat now. "Who are you to endanger our secret, asno ignorante??"

[Yvonne Miyake] She sat quietly listening to the cluster fuck. When Andrea came closer, and she knew it was the other woman unless they had a Garou Transvestite in the house who smelled of very lovely perfume, which Yvonne highly approves on, she smiles quietly in the dark. Curled on the chair, legs tucked in, she seemed quite content to absorb the introductions, the tones, and the gruff Rage that flowed through the room.

[Sampson] Sampson continues to be a hidden snot. His hackles come up though at the yell in the stairwell.

[Sampson] (hey! how can i be snarky bitch if you dont read my IMs???!))
to Lukas Wyrmbreaker

[Barcode] *A soft chuckle imminates from the one at the bottom of the stairs, soft voice following* She's not wrong... I know my eyes were drawn to the firelight playing off a few feet of steel...

[Matthias] Matthias pauses as well, his eyes widening at the sight of Barcode, but saying nothing of it. Zeke had dealt with that issue; it needed no further elaboration from him.

However, he does turn and meet the gaze of Lukas Wyrmbreaker. Without flinching, he speaks...

"I am Matthias Jorgenson, called Odin's Eye of the Get of Fenris and Modi of Cackling Shadow."

At that, the large blond man turns and starts toward the stairwell again, his eyes flitting toward the stairwell as Zeke turns to him.

[Matthias] ((I gotta go next post.))

[Zeke] ...and an unconscious step away from Soledad is taken, another deep breath floods his system, light tremors beginning on the edge of his nerves and working their way into his limbs.

"...Bar...Not helping." Admonishing? No. More like an Are you nuts?.

Zeke looks up at Matt, indeed, nodding as if the Fenrir had gotten out of his system what was needed to complete this little jaunt and stepped backwards with an attempt at being casual about it. The motion ensured he was between the flaring Soledad and the Fenrir Ahroun.

"...Meet you at Home."

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] "Lower your voice," Caleb said harshly to her at a normal tone. "If you do not, that is a near breach of the Veil, the very secret you seek to protect. Whomever is downstairs may here you, femme stupide."

Caleb hadn't spoken out of anger. Quite the opposite - he was sort of amused with the whole spectacle of a woman shouting at him as though she were his mother. An eyebrow cocked at Barcode. "And if you aren't too blind by your own fury," he said to Soledad, "you would of realized it was out and away in a matter of seconds."

A heartbeat.

"You still have not told me who you are to be questioning me, Nameless Woman," he said.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (thanks for the RP!)

Some tension releases in Lukas, a knot loosening in the musculature of his back. He gives his head a short shake, not a negation, not a human gesture at all.

Then, even as they turn to go: "Good to meet you." That's not necessarily true, but he will be courteous about this now that the misunderstanding is averted.

This is a sort of olive branch: "This safehouse is neutral ground, and she," a jerk of his head toward Andrea, "is our hostess. She provides us room and board and hot meals for a more than reasonable price." A small shrug, "It's a good setup."

They leave soon thereafter, presumably -- Lukas turns his attention to Caleb and Soledad.

[Soledad Guttierez] (( Willpower // Let's not throw the first punch... ))

[Barcode] *Room and board????!?!?! The hooded head turned to look at whom Lukas had indicated. His new best friend! He was sure of it. Yes. Totally sure. Damn. She wasn't hard to look at either. Bonus!

A gloved hand is raised and a little finger wave offered in Andrea's direction.* Sup?

[Zeke] "...Seems like it."

Spoken with the same sort of courteous professionalism, inherent in the Tribe. It wasn't flat, but there was distance there. From honesty or truth or simple fact, didn't matter. There was distance in his voice.

"I'll find White Eyes soon. It's about the Mile." Spoken as if Lukas already (naturally) knew. It served as a Good Bye as much as it did an appeasement on their presence.

Zeke descended the staircase, ensuring Matthias and Barcode were ahead of him. Teeth and jaws held in check, even as the frision of Rage threatened to boil over.

"Bar...we have a place. This isn't it." He heard something inarticulately vicious try to emerge from Soledad's throat.

"Not at all." He motions with his hand.

[Andrew] [Upstairs] He grunted and shook his head. Great. Now these two were fighting. Ugh. They should go beat each other up and be done with it. "Tell White Eyes I was looking for her."

Turning on his heels, he stalks back down the halls away from the moody gathering of Garou and their issues. He's got other things to worry about. Like the proper care and feeding of his dead snake.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The Mile, he said. Too late now, a penny drops. Perhaps Zeke sees it in the lift of Lukas' chin.

"I'll pass the word on," he replies -- to Andrew, to Zeke, to both.

A pause; "Rhya." This, to Andrew. Lukas turns if the Lupus does, facing the other, quirking an eyebrow. "What's that for?" He nods at the snake.

[Matthias] ((Thanks for the scene, folks. I had a good time. *wave*))

Matthias follows Zeke down the stairs, past Barcode, without answering. Zeke had already done so. He shoots Barcode a look, as if to suggest not pushing it, and continues on as he might any other stranger who wasn't dead set on a formal introduction.

Teeth ground together like the turn of a mill, as his imposing bulk made its way to the door.

[Barcode] Oh... Ok Well that's even better. *Still a smile could be glimsed in the shadow's under the hood* I see we're still making friends and influencing people. That's good.

*Reaching up he pushed back the hood and let it fall. Revealing a rather normal looking face. Unassuming but not toally ass frak ugly. Short cropped hair that probably appeared black in this lack of light. His skin palor was sickly, but that wasn't a surprise. Again it's hard to tell in the dark but the guy looks washed out and sick.

Lagging behind Matt and Zeke he lingers still watching the pending confrontation, though he'll probably get yanked out any second*

[Soledad Guttierez] Her fists clenched to the point of her dull nails biting into the palms of her hands. Mercifully, she wasn't remotely concerned enough about her physical appearance to keep them long enough to draw blood when she did so, for them to bend or break or cause distraction in the middle of battle or physical work. Her shoulders shook with Rage, and she moved out of the stairwell to stand directly in front of Caleb, her face dangerously close to his. Her boots boosted her up to about 5'10" or so, so she wasn't too much shorter than the men around here. Her chin was up, her eyes were flashing, and her voice was positively a snarl at this point.

"The most they will hear is a muffled yell, you idiot. They cannot make out my precise words, not enough of them to piece together what I am saying. However, you fool, your sword flashed in front of their FACES!" She roared this last word, and slammed her fist into the wall about a foot to the right of Caleb's head. Now her chest heaved up and down with her effort to contain her Rage.

"Do not lecture me about the Veil when you draw weapons from your very flesh in front of their EYES!"

[Andrew] Andrew pauses, turning back to look at Lukas. His body twitches from the impact of Soledad's fist into the wall. His body slowly squirms as he tenses and untenses his muscles, letting the tension roll over him and past.

"Many things. Maybe make you come back better than the last time."

[Andrea Locke] For a moment it seems Andrea is about to miss Lukas' mention of her, his brief explanation of this building and all it's, ahem, wonders. All in all her attention is now rather avidly focused on Caleb and Soledad as she stands behind Yvonne where she sits on the sectional. Her posture is... tense. It could, of course, simply be the rage. It could be the idea of well-intentioned by foolhardy Garou who should probably know better. It could be a stiffness at her side, it could, indeed, be anything, but the stance certainly speaks of displeasure.

But in the end she does sense someone speaking about her and looks over towards Lukas, apparently truly making note of him for the first time. Her eyes do slide down his form in the dimness, a twitch of distracted amusement at the corner of her lips at his general state. Another unknown garou [Barcode] nods enthusiatically her way and Andrea nods in return, her lips curving barely - moved by the air the man exudes, perhaps - but with feathers still too ruffled to slip back into her usually pristine role as hostess.

Everyone has bad days.

Yvonne murmurs something and Andrea, despite herself, snorts somewhere deep in her throat, then shakes her head, her lips moving slightly in return.

[Yvonne Miyake] Chuckling quietly in the recliner seat, where the two kinfolk women have taken then sanctuary - well out of the way, she looked from Andrea to where the others were and spoke quietly in return. These words are slipped in between other conversations. She doesn't interrupt others. Besides it was between the women, these girlie things. .

[Sampson] Swords from flesh??
That does it.
This is serious Lukas. Soledad is a bitch, but Veil, yeah. Where's Katherine? KATHERINE!!!
The ragabash's rage is in the mix, but such a little touch (for such a leggy man), it is surely lost. His gifts drop, or one of them does at least. Still no scent to speak of.
The Nandi warrior-- as indicated by appearance and footwear because pretty much the entire tribe wears Nikes or similar running shoes-- steps out as if embedded in the wall, silent, disapprovingly dark, staring at both Soledad and Caleb.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] "Keep pounding on the wall," he said quietly, "and some may come up to investigate that." Soledad was right in front of Caleb, perhaps in his face and crowding his personal space. With his back to the wall, the Silver Fang did not like that one bit, not at all. Still, in the face of her roaring and carrying on, he remained calm and impassive. Theurges were not prone to the fits of Rage that Ahrouns were.

"You still have not told me who you are. Perhaps you have no name?" he asked, a touch too innocently, sweetly. That voice and tone did not match the near-scowl acrossing the cajun's face. "A fatherless, nameless whelp from the barrio."

Caleb's hands were not down. No, never that. One hand cupped his elbow, while the other played along his chin. "I would also remind you to keep a firm hold on your temper, Nameless. I find that anger and fury, barely held in check, can reduce one to frenzy. That, of course, does mean a breach in the veil."

Caleb's eyes, light green and alluring, deadlocked with Soledad's.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas does not jump as Soledad's fist slams into the wall. His eyelids flicker; then he glances behind himself at the kin -- a casual, measuring regard.

He shifts his position: moves sideways two or three steps, without hurry. Now his unscarred back faces the kin squarely, and he stands between them and the two angry Garou.

His attention goes to Andrew, though. The lupus would not have seen this before: surprise on the young Shadow Lord's face. He's quiet for a moment, as though measuring his words.

"If you do that, I would thank you, Rhya." He would not have heard this either -- genuine gratitude, and perhaps some hint of respect. There's another pause, his brow faintly knit. Then, as though abruptly decided: "It is not right for a Theurge to play the role of a Full-Moon in battle. That was my only complaint. You are a more than capable fighter, Rhya, but you would be far more powerful wielding the eldritch powers of your own moon.

"If you will ... give me your word to do so," and perhaps it's presumption, for a Cliath to ask a Fostern for a promise, "I will not seek a reckoning at the moot."

[Soledad Guttierez] (( Willpower // Again, attempting not to break Caleb's teeth... ))

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] ( For the record? Caleb isn't angry. )

[Barcode] I knew a "Namless One Jr" once... weird sort of dude. Liked to lick pigeons.. Like... pounce them. Grip them and lick them. Nasty habit, and none too fun for the birds either..... *Not that they were likely listening to him at the bottom of the stairs. Nor is he being loud. Maybe he's talking to himself. Or... an imaginary friend*

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] We didn't see it, Lukas replies in thought. We have only the word of the Uktena(?) against the word of the Fang. I don't know either of them; can't vouch for either. Leave them to it. If she's serious about it, she can bring it up at the moot. Or try to beat his head in. It's not our business.

[Andrew] He pauses. Staring at Lukas for a few moments. Considering. Perhaps it's best when people can't see the scars on his face and the mangled mess it makes his expressions. After a few moments of consideration, his head bobs in agreement. "I do my best. Your White Eyes has helped."

But now... well... the angry one was making noise and the Theurge was mouthing off like a no-moon. His eyes rolled, a strangely human gesture that likely went mostly missed in the darkness.

And he came trudging back. He was no Judge, but he seemed the ranking Hothead at the moment. His voice was an irritated, grumbling bark. "Calm yourselves." As he stalks back towards Soledad and Caleb.

[Soledad Guttierez] The fact that Soledad's fist does not next land on the Silver Fang's face is amazing. Her frame, which would be considered frail were it not for the hard, hard muscle that coated it in slim layers, positively shook, hummed with the same sort of tension and energy that came when two magnets came too close together but refused to touch-- when they pushed away from one another. Pure anger and insult rose in her throat like bile, and by some miracle she swallowed it back down.

Her hand still rested on the wall beside his head, knuckles on paint, or stucco, or whatever it was the wall was covered with. Her eyes flashed manically, and she was dead silent for a few seconds, glaring hard directly into Caleb's light colored eyes. She did not blink, she refused to.

Then she wrinkled her nose, almost in disgust, and spoke in a very low voice.

"Insult my blood all you want, Wyrmbringer. We will discuss this at the next moot, under the eyes and ears of the Council. We will see if they find your feeble excuses as sturdy as your arrogant eyes do." For a final time she slammed her hand on the wall, palm down this time, and jerked her head forward as though she was going to attack. The same sort of 'fake out let's see if I can make him flinch' maneuver that teenaged boys with too much testosterone and pride often used on one another.

Then, with a hiss, she shoved away from him, pushing with the hand that was on the wall, spun about, and stalked her way from the common room into the pitch black of the living area. She needed cold water, and lots of it, to attempt to cool herself down.

[Sampson] Kinfolk. They have no way out but that stairwell. Would it not be better, Lukas, to order Soledad and Caleb hell into Umbra? I can feel the heat of her rage like the hot sun from here. We would not wish our hostess to be burned, nor your kinfolk there. Who is that new one anyways?

Not all that casually, he moves to place himself between Andrea and Yvonne, and the arguing werewolves. Adressing himself to her, he smiles and says,
"Andrea. I must say! That your kitchen makes blissfully good food! And my second wife's belly grows fat on your muffins! We will have a baby who smells of muffins!"

[Barcode] *Barcode flattened himself against the wall to let Soledad pass. As she does, one might note he's rather tall. Probably 6'5" but not 'HUGE" or over muscled as some garou needed to be. He regularly missed meals and dealed with spirits. It wasn't the best lifestyle for putting on great amounts of mass.

A respectful nod was offered her* Ma'am.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The nod is oddly out of place on Andrew, as though his human form didn't quite fit right -- something about the angle of the head, the movement of the shoulders. Sometimes it's starkly clear that the Theurge is not human; was never human; was never even close.

But Lukas returns the nod, regardless, bowing his head a fraction lower than the other. The gesture is smooth, with a touch of formality. Perhaps the details are lost in the gloom. It doesn't matter -- it was a peace accord, quiet and subtle.

The Fostern goes to deal with the angry Garou. Lukas looks up at the still-dark lights, then turns away from the Garou, faces Andrea and the woman he did not recognize.

"Are we ever getting our lights back, Ms. Locke?" There's a hint of wry humor in this; the first since he woke up, got doused in ice water, and fell on his ass. "Or should I go buy candles?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (shit. i keep missing the totemlink) We don't have the right to order anyone to do anything, Lukas responds levelly. And frankly, if the kin are stupid enough to get in her way now, that's their problem.

Also, I have no idea who she is, he concludes. Why don't you find out? I want to put my pants back on.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] Caleb did not reply to Soledad, not did he even flinch when she feinted at him. A ghost of a smile did cross his lips at the woman's departing back. She still had not told him whom she was, and that she hadn't managed to do anything but snarl and scream in his face gave Caleb a small victory. A hollow one, but a victory nontheless.

Andrew addressed him, a theurge and a higher rank. He gave a short nod to the man as he turned to Andrea. "My apologies, Madamoiselle." A pause, as he considered how to proceed. It was a touchy subject nontheless, and while there was no presiding Philodox to oversee this matter? He still felt he owed something.

"That nameless woman speaks the truth," he said. "I did draw my weapon, but in defense of your establishment. Cities are not known to have one-building black-outs, and I err on the side of caution. A simple reason for the lights going out, of course, but better safe than sorry."

Heartbeat.

"The sword was out and well away within the span of but a moment while confusion reigned." He swept a bow to Andrea, the hostess. It wasn't a bow of mockery, but one of sincere apology. "I apologize again, my lady. The defense of your home while I am in it concerns me."

[Yvonne Miyake] Since the others have drifted over their way, or rather, have turned around to face them now instead of the hot headed Garou on the stairwell, she uncurls her knees from where she had them tucked and crossed one leg over the other, sitting properly.

She can only see so much of them in the dark, but she glances from one to the other. Silent as Andrea is addressed. Yvonne seems content to listen and observe. She's in no hurry to leap into conversations with Garou.

.. Especially bowing, sword carrying, old-world ones. Its too close to home.

[Andrew] He nods firmly at Caleb's apology and apparent willingness to let the matter be resolved at the moment. He seems pleased with Soledad's decision to take it to the moot as well.

But he doesn't need to really get involved anymore. He grunts to Caleb, "Leave her be." A growl turning the end of the sentence, if you can call it that, down into the bass register. His irritation at having to stop a dispute, not a roll he can remember having found himself fulfilling before, is evident. "I like it here. It's warm." And it stands to reason, he wouldn't have to leave the place if a veil breach happened. He's not well spoken, but who says he can't communicate?

Finally he turns back towards the hall and starts down it again.

[Sampson] We don't? Cryptic werewolf.

[Andrea Locke] Each impact of Soledad's hand on the wall causes an instinctive flinching - there is simply not helping it really, not when - at any moment - those signals of aggression could become far, far worse. Despite her brief banter with Yvonne, Andrea is simply not amused as is the younger kinwoman. No, for her there is nothing that is amusing about the situation at all.

But, in the end, Soledad leaves. Discretion being the greater part of valor and all that. At that, Andrea breaths an unconscious sigh of relief, that is cut off somewhat by the Silent Striders patently silent approach. Which causes her to stiffen, if only briefly... then she finds herself smiling at the words that stream from his mouth. There is still a tightness around her mouth, around her eyes, but it doesn't stifle all of her natural humour at least.
"I am glad she likes them; the risk to your child - congratulations, by the way, please pass that along to her - aside, I will have Jennifer make up a nice selection of them for her. "

Lukas addresses her and she looks his way, chin slightly uplifted in a casual, if somewhat distracted show of attention. Her lips quirk again, this time is sheer wryness however. Count on Lukas to point out a deficiency. "I'm sure Reuben will sort things out eventually. It may take some time though -- and we have candles in the linen closet. As well as the fire place for this room. I can--"

Whatever she can or can't do is lost when Caleb approaches and begins to speak. For what it is worth, Andrea gives him the full measure of her attention though her gaze is hardly adoring or submissive or happily hanging on to every word. She doesn't interrupt. She shows no favorable or unfavorable reaction when he explains - what happened and why it happened. When he is done, she nods, then speaks - quietly, accented in the sibilance of her native Spanish.
"If you'll permit the observation - I believe that ultimately both of you were, in some manner, great or small, concerned for the safety of this place. You in an immediate sense. She in a long term sense of my continuing to have a place to offer."
She isn't nagging. She isn't superior or condescending or anything of the sort -- she gives her opinion on the matter. That is all. Followed by, "Thank you for your apology, monsieur." And the last isn't lip service either -- she may not be ultimately pleased with what happened, but his intentions were good; she isn't about to question a Garou's battle/survival/defense instinct; and she appreciates people who take to the time to show her at least a modicum of respect.

[Andrea Locke] Andrew's comment of 'I like it here. It's warm.' well, that gets a faint look - a faint smile - a slight nod. Her own way of saying Thank you to the man of few words.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Got it."

Not here. It's neutral ground, and if we compromise that, someone higher ranked will be able to follow our precedence. So unless you want Hatchet ordering your ass around at whim, leave it be.

He's already heading for the linen closet as he says this. Thinks this, whatever. He opens the linen closet, fumbles around noisily until his fingers find the cool, waxy columns. Dinner candles, 12" long and slender: perhaps at one point Andrea had thought of making this establishment something classier.

Lukas takes a good half-dozen, passing them out to whomever wanted one. Then, holding his own out to the one that had introduced himself as Caleb, "Do you mind?" He gestures at the man's lighter.

[Barcode] *Seeing that the excitement seems to have died down, gloved hands slip up and grip the edge of the hood and flip it back up. The surplus army jacket over it is pulled tighter and he slipps down and towards the door*

[Soledad Guttierez] Soledad would feel her way through the familiar hallway, which she commonly travelled in mild darkness, as her morning routine occured before the sun rose most days, to the one of the four doorways into the communal bathroom/shower room/locker room/what have you, the one closest to the archway that led out into the common room. It was pitch black in here, and she found herself completely unconcerned with modesty at this point. Nudity was expecty in washrooms anyways, right?

So she left a trail of clothing on the tile floor, gray T-shirt, inside-out, followed by a black and white striped long-sleeved number, also peeled away so it ended up inside-out, wadded up and tossed on the floor by her feet. This left her in her denims, her boots, and a sports bra that kept what modest amount of bust she had flat and secure to her chest. She stopped at the sinks, gaze focused harshly down at the sink she chose rather than the huge length of mirror that ran in front of her, and she turned on the cold tap. The water ran for a few seconds, and she cupped her hands under it to douse her face, hair, ears, and neck.

Yet she couldn't help but glimpse herself in the mirror in her peripheal vision, and the reflection of the world within it...

[Soledad Guttierez] (( Wits + Occult // Let's not lose ourselves... ))

[Sampson] "Thank you. Chepchumba also sends her regards."
Whatever does or doesnt go on in totemphone conversations is absent from his rather friendly face. Maybe friendly. Ears that big, its hard to feel truly intimidated. He flops into a chair across from Yvonne and Andrea, lets his long--really long-- legs sprawl, takes up as much space as he can.
"Who are you, girl?" the last is aimed at the quiet chick, his head cocking to the side, studying her with curiosity for the New Kid.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] "Of course," he said to Andrea. His previous statements were not meant to charm the woman, never that. A married man such as Caleb had no need to charm other women for the sake of charming them. He agreed, somewhat, with Andrea's assessment of the situation. Of course that still left it up to the elders at the moot - if and when that ever came. There hasn't been a true Council of Elders here in quite some time, either, but let-come-what-may.

When Lukas held out the candle to be lit, he offered the man a smile. "Certainly," he said as he dug out the lighter. A look of concentration came about his features as he lit the wick again to keep the elemental under wraps as he went about lightning candles as needed before closing the zippo and replacing it into his pocket.

[Andrew] ((Now there's a roll to fail...))

He glanced over at Andrea and gave her a twisted half-smile. It's probably for the best that she couldn't see it. His face was definitely of the caliber that required a bag on the head during bedroom fun-time.

He called over his shoulder to Lukas as he went back down the hall. "Tell White Eyes, I want her help. We get you some armor."

[Soledad Guttierez] ...The mirror seemed to wobble, to ripple as though someone had tossed a pebble in the water far away and the disturbance was only just reaching her at the other side of the pond. Then the rippling and wavering extended from the mirror alone, reached out into the world itself, and wrapped around her. She almost felt a hand, cold and unforgiving, grabbing the back of her head, and the next she knew it felt as though her feet had left the ground and she was falling through the mirror.

There was pressing, and cold, and it lasted for what felt like an hour and a half a second at the same time, and her feet found ground again, but she felt weak. Her knees buckled, and her hands, somehow still gripping a sink, though this one felt different, slipped forward. Her elbows caught on the sinks beside her, her chest hit the sink's front, and she let out a sharp gasp followed by a sucking in of air, like someone who'd just jumped into a lake in Minnesota in mid-January.

For a few seconds she breathed, adjusted to the fact that, against her will, she'd fallen into the Penumbra. When she recognized what had happened, understood the situation completely, she let out a yell of frustration and, for the third time that night, hit her fist against something inanimate. This time, however, it was the very mirror that caused her this untimely slip across the Gauntlet.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] In the gloom, Lukas had missed the tall stranger, standing quiet in the gloom. As candles flare to light, he has enough light to see the hooded form disappear back down the stairs.

"Who was that?" he asks -- Sampson, primarily, but really anyone who would listen.

And, addressed by the Fostern again, Lukas turns, one hand on his towel to keep it from slipping, the other holding his candle upright. He inclines his chin, a nod.

"Thank you, Rhya." It's casually spoken. Anyone else, and it'd be lipservice -- but then, this is Lukas. He rarely says a word he doesn't mean.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] ( Okay. Srsly. BRB. Nature is screaming my name through a bullhorn and a microphone. )

[Andrea Locke] "Yvonne Miyake, this is Sampson, Lukas, and -- well, alas, monsieur," To Caleb. "I'm afraid I don't know your name."

Assuming Caleb supplies it, she nods, takes a candle from Lukas, and then moves crouch in her suit and heels in order to tend to the fireplace, going about the ritual of setting up nice burn within the hearth.

[Andrew] The snake flops and sways in his large hand as he stalks back down the hallway to his room. His shadowy form turns the corner and vanishes into his room again. The door shutting itself. His snake was getting cold and he wanted to tend to it before then.

[Yvonne Miyake] Girl?

She's quiet for a few heart beats, looking over to where Sampson has made himself comfortable. Where Yvonne and Andrea had retreated to avoid the Garou and their little pissing attitudes. That Andrea is afforded different tones and a complete other level of respect hasn't escaped her notice. Garou were fickle and arrogant creatures. Levels of courtesy were dropped here.

Andrea saves with grace. Yvonne could have said anything. Instead she inclines her head which is more of a tiny bow, as her culture tends to do, from where she is primly seated. "A pleasure to meet you all."

[Soledad Guttierez] In the Penumbra Soledad would stay for now.

Unconcerned about the impact of the shattered mirror in the real world, she stalked her way out of the bathroom, out of the Brotherhood entirely, where she doesn't have to see faces or hear words that would only enrage her further.

She went out to burn off some Rage.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas had been heading out the door to the hall, and then the bathroom to collect his clothes. He pauses as he's introduced, turning to the woman.

In the flickering glow of candlelight she can see his features clearly now -- pure east europe. He studies her for a moment. Then he returns the nod, though on his part it's simply that: a nod.

"Likewise. You're kin?"

[Sampson] "He seemed to be called 'Bar'. Maybe he drinks too much." The Kenyan shrugs, grins and turns his attention to Andrea, studies her eyes for a moment. "Likewise, Miss Miyiki." The shadowlord girl had not introduced herself, had needed help. His lips turn up in a wry smile at the older kin, she who can step in when needed, then leans forward to turn on the television, messes with the channels.
Some sort of movie, the less comprehensible the better.

[Yvonne Miyake] Her gaze zoned in on Lukas when he inquired more. She nodded in return, a singular motion that confirmed as much. "Shadow Lord Kinfolk, yes." There was no hesitation in the way she said it and nor did she boast. But she didn't look at him too long, at least not in the eyes, their gray colour shifted across the playing lights on his face then moved away - looking across Caleb to..

.. Sampson.

And back around to the others, the moment Sampson was interested in the tv.

[Andrea Locke] Gritting her teeth, Andrea pushes herself to her feet after preparing, lighting, and stoking the fire. The actions strains areas that would be better left un-strained, the heels certainly not helping [ah, the vanity of women], and truth be told she sways a fraction when she rises fully, her eyes briefly clothing. It isn't by any means a dramatic display of something amiss. It is what it is and nothing more and soon enough she is smoothing her hands over her suit jacket, slipping her own zippo back into a pocket.

Yvonne's announcement does earn a look, of course. Interested but, ultimately, distracted. She doesn't quite have the heart at the moment to tell Sampson the TV won't work with the power off -- though if he should start to pound the poor controller in a furious attempt to make it work she might step in.

[Andrew] ((Thanks for the RP folks!!))

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (likewise, man!)

Lukas makes a vague sound of amusement under his breath. "We're multiplying," he says, mock-ominous, flicking his eyebrows for effect.

He starts out of the room, headed for the bathroom. No; stops --

"Andrea. When you have a chance," meaning asap, "could we have a word?"

[Yvonne Miyake] "I've been in the city for awhile." She says to Lukas, slipped in before the other had been directed to Andrea. "Do you know of others outside --" Never mind, he's leaving.

People came and went here, there was no doubt about it.

She stretches her legs and leans down to unzip her boots while the others talk around her. Its quiet now and the Rage has began to lessen in the room. Yvonne, at least, is thankful for it.

[Sampson] Push push push. Button button button. He scowls at the controller, then aims it at the tv,
then SCOWLS at the controller.
There's a threat. Man figures it out pretty quick, but that doesn't stop a long spiel of nasty-sounding foreign words in some African language.
"What do you want to know, Miss Miyaki? Did you ever watch Karate Kid?" Because name like that, she had to, right?

[Andrea Locke] The sight of Lukas showing humour is, well generally rare. The sight of Lukas being mock-ominous, flicking his eyebrows and, well, what not...
...Andrea cants her head to the side, eying him the flickering, golden-play light from the now fully-roaring fire; as though scrutinizing a new breed of man before her.
Not that he is man at all.

He moves to walk past and there is a goodnight on her lips, but he stops. Asks for a word, which, whether he is in a good mood or not, usually amounts to a command from the Ahroun. Her expression is quite unreadable at the moment, but she nods, then looks towards Yvonne, Sampson and Caleb in turn...
"Good night all, in case I don't see you again this evening."

Then she turns back to Lukas, lightly waving a hand, slightly raising an eyebrow, clearly in lieu of saying: Lead the Way.

[Andrea Locke] ooc: afk for about 15 min.. need to run to the gas station.

[Yvonne Miyake] .. He was almost to telling her name right.

Unzipping the boots from beneath her black pants, she slipped them off and placed them to the side of the recliner. She was not sitting in the main part of the room where the sofa was, with the coffee table and the tv nearby. Yvonne was sitting in the single chair by a small table nearby the pool table. Its the same place she sat last night when Lukas and Nessa had been sprawled on the sofa.

Straightening back up, she looked over towards Sampson. "I have never watched The Karate Kid."

She smiled to Andrea, "Coffee tomorrow then." Clearly she understood the beck and call of the Garou. "Goodnight, Andrea."

Grabbing the lever on the edge of the recliner she pulled on it and eased the chair back. Stretching out her legs, she crossed over ankles and rested her hands on her belly. "I wanted to know if you knew of any other Shadow Lords outside of The Brotherhood." She answers Sampson, finally.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] ( I gotta run for a bit. Assume Caleb will say his goodbyes, to the women first - chivalrous one, isn't he? - before leaving. )

[Sampson] His eyes light with the dark of his moon, so close now that he can taste everything not there. Feel it. "Oh! Yes indeed, Miss! There are many Shadowlords walking on Gaia's many faces and places, who are not inside the Brotherhood."

the man's feet, large feet, in red nikes, waggle slowly back and forth, lazy wagging in place of the tail which is absent just now. His lashes lower, sleepy perhaps, or just naturally tending towards concealment.

[Yvonne Miyake] Her smile is light, indulgent, even if he was staring at the back of his eyelids. "And other Shadow Lords in Chicago, do you know any of them?" While English isn't her first language it comes close to level. Her words are flavored in that distinct way that Asians are.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Something about her preemptive goodbyes makes Lukas laugh aloud -- a single short sound of mirth before he controls it.

She follows him. He leads the way, his candle casting a dim golden glow over the walls as he passes. Behind him, his shadow stretches huge, engulfing her.

In the bathroom, he hands the candle to her for a moment. She can see his pajama bottoms still thrown over the shower stall door. She can also see that he's managed to pull the shower curtain of that stall off its rings. It's balled up in the shower itself now, as though hurled there rather spitefully.

The bathroom's empty, except for the two of them. They are not lovers, but they were lovers for a night. Lukas doesn't bother with false modesties. There's nothing she hasn't seen already. He undoes the towel and tosses it up over the door (the proprietress side of her likely sighs at the prospect of more cleaning up after this particular, housework-unfriendly Garou), then pulls his pajama bottoms down and steps into them, tugs them up to hang off his hipbones. His hair is still damp from his incomplete shower, lying closer to his skull than usual when he lowers his head to do up the drawstring.

After, he takes the candle back from her. "Come on. Let's talk downstairs. It's getting cold up here. Your guests are all gone, aren't they?"

[Sampson] His own accent is fairly strong, with a curious rhythm, as if he performs each word rather than merely speaks it. A song, of sorts. His people are beautiful in every way, run with him everywhere.
"I might. Or I might not. Many ways to know a garou. When I see all of your tribe in Chicago, I will be sure to let you know what of them I know." He is cryptic, but then, its in his blood.

Something occurs-- he turns more to her in concern, his expression gentle. With Lukas gone, the faint touch of rage in Sampson must be like balm to what was before. His question is merely that, and no demand. "Who is your guardian here in Chicago? Are you alone then?"

[Andrea Locke] While holding the candle she does indeed survey the one stall that is rather in a state of shambles. At the moment she says nothing about it, though her lips do press together slightly. It's an ongoing battle and, ultimately, one that Andrea knows full well she's already lost. It doesn't mean she's thrown in, so to speak, but the acknowledgment [private though it may be] is enough to make her swallow back any comments. Even, yes, when he drops his towel with just as much disregard.

Indeed, his naked form is something she's seen before. More so, she has seen many a naked man -- she is not what anyone would call virginal, after all. At the same time, it isn't a sight that inspires her to sudden lust. She doesn't demure away, nor does she oggle him. Watching him pull up his pajama bottoms is all together a non-event, it is merely the passage of time until he takes back the candle and speaks of talking downstairs.

"Yes, I am sure they are. Jennifer would take care of matters downstairs." While Andrea usually has a very hands on approach to running the microbrewery and all it entails, she trusts the Coltranes to handle matters as well. She isn't always around and they do a fine job -- well, when Reuben isn't plunging her building into the 19th century.

Making her way out of the bathroom, she moves closely with Lukas simply because it doesn't bother her and he is, after all, holding the candle. Before they brave the pitch black steps, however, she pauses to remove her heels, bending rather gingerly to take them up in one hand.

[Yvonne Miyake] "Thank you." She says of his offer, cryptic or not.

Lifting a hand from where it had interlaced on her belly, she tucked her buttoned shirt more over her shoulder, briefly fingering the tenderness there. She's drawn from her thoughts back to his curious concern, and she glances across the fires darkness to where his dark features reside.

"Are we ever alone, Sampson?" She smiled at him and it was warm. Its the sort that reached the eyes.

But that's not what he wanted to know and, after tonight, its best not to push the buttons of even the most game loving Garou, "I've been alone in Chicago for some time."

[Yvonne Miyake] - The bathroom contains Yvonnes jacket and the medical kit stowed under one of the basins. Tucked neatly out of the way so its not tripped upon.

[Andrea Locke] ooc: Andrea is going to give Yvonne a GOLD STAR for BEST GUEST OF THEM ALL status. Soon followed by dusting Lukas' clothes with itching powder.

[Yvonne Miyake] [Can I have a scratch and sniff strawberry sticker instead? I always liked them as a kid. *sniff*]

[Andrea Locke] ooc: I suppose, yes. (pats)

[Sampson] So much for his private conversation. The ragabash interrupts.
Hey Lukas! You wanted to offer all the unclaimed Shadowlord kin your protection, yes? Here is one who is very alone. She has said alone now several times. This is a sad thing. This should not be. Shall I tell her she is no longer abandoned?


"We are never alone, for we are all one Nation, Miss Miyaki. All roads are one road, and they all touch Gaia's face." She is lucky to meet Sampson, who loves kin. Often as he can. Though there is nothing in his attitude of impropriety towards Yvonne.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Yeah. If she's kin to me and none have a prior claim, I'll act as her guardian. You know how it goes.

Lukas pauses to pick up the jacket discarded in the corner. And then he sniffs it, rather like a college kid sniffing his shirt to check if it was still wearable. Then, balling it up in his hand, he leads the way out of the bathroom again.

It doesn't bother him to walk ahead of her. Her presence at his back, it seems, does not unnerve him.

Passing through the common room again, he tosses the balled-up jacket at Yvonne -- doesn't bother to ask if it's hers; doesn't interrupt their conversation. If she thanks him, he tips her a wry, two-fingered salute. Then the glow from his candle retreats down the stairs one step at a time, bobbing its way down to the first floor.

Andrea might expect him to grab a bottle of red; that does seem to be his modus operandi. But not tonight. He gets a glass of water -- from the tap, not from a bottle or a can. He likes the chairs by the fireplace, and it should be no surprise when he makes a beeline for them, pinching out the candle when he's close enough to the fire as to not need its light.

He gestures her into one of the chairs, takes the other. He watches her sit, not quite easily.

"Side's still sore, is it?" he asks then, sardonic.

[Yvonne Miyake] Her brows raise and drop again, easily overlooked from their distance, his eyes closed and her separation from his immediate area. She falls into silence. Whether its because she has nothing more to say or because she was pondering on private thoughts really didn't matter. Her hands clasp back over her stomach and she closes her eyes to the soft glow in the room.

[Sampson] His eyes open again, and beaming at her occurs. "Well, Yvonne Miyaki! You are no longer alone. Lukas will act as your guardian! We now have three of your kinswoman with our pack, including our lovely hostess here, and then my four wives--though we are Silent Striders of course, and then my five children. We are a large pack, and well able to protect you. Today! is a goood day!"

Whoops. So much for her solitude. Its severly intruded on now. "We should celebrate your great good fortune! Oooh! We could raid the kitchen! Shall we find muffins??"
He's standing, and looming some, but then overly long-legged men do that, and he seems to mean no harm, though he's far from harmless.

[Sampson] (THE Unbroken Circle! Eats Shadowlord Kin!)

[Sampson] (Clearing out, next post! thanks for scene!)
to Andrea Locke, Lukas Wyrmbreaker, Yvonne Miyake

[Yvonne Miyake] The jacket is thrown her way, the heavy fabric splays across her. Of course her eyes snap open and she glances towards the direction it came. She watches Andrea and Lukas, while she silently arranged the jacket over an arm. There's no thanks from her.

Pushing her weight forward, she put the foot of the recliner back into place with a quiet clink. She's getting out of the chair when Sampson becomes animated with energy. "That's very kind of you, Sampson. Thank you."

"I think they intended some privacy." She says about going down to the kitchen, "And I'm not particularly hungry. But please, don't let me stop you. I've got something to take care of first. If you will excuse me?" She waited for a nod or what have you, paused and ready to leave the room for the bathroom beyond.

[Andrea Locke] Downstairs is definitely better lit than upstairs - the kitchen has emergency lights in place, as well as a generator which keeps the fridge and freezer running, among other things. Just as they are entering the kitchen, Danny is climbing up from the basement, shivering slightly -- seeing Lukas he hesitates slightly, but then bobs his head a bit and turns to Andrea.
"Hey, Miss Andy -- Reuben says another half hour to an hour and he should have it fixed."
Up until then her expression was all together introverted. A pensive mask. At Danny's appearance and ever eager-to-please words, she smiles, taking in the young man kindly and nods. "I'll cross my fingers. Jennifer is down with him? Good. Why don't you warm up by the fire in the kitchen, Daniel..."

Lukas gets his water and moves into the restaurant proper. The candles on the tables have all been doused, but the fire is still going to help heat the floor as a whole. There are a few dim exit signs glowing red as well, and the street lamps from outside filtering their watery yellow light in through the multi-paned front windows.
Instead of taking a seat, Andrea chooses to stand before the fire, her back to Lukas, warming her hands, her face, her front as a whole. She nods, however, visible enough as ebony curls sway with the motion.
"A bit." His tone is sardonic, hers matches it. She looks over her shoulder at him, a half-smirk on her lips just daring him to even think it's because of their tryst of a few nights ago. Hardly. Then, looking back to the fire. "The cut became a bit infected. It's been treated though."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] He's not longer smiling when she looks back at him. He looks at her seriously; speaks seriously.

"Are you going to tell me where it came from?" A beat. "The same place that scrape on your neck came from, I wager."

[Sampson] His chin raises a little as she oozes out of his offer, prepares to flee the room for other tasks. "Yes! It was kind of me, wasn't it?"
It's a message, of sorts. He offers only a, "Good night to you, then."
And settles in on the couch, completely determined to outlast the power outage and watch his damned movie.
And if the power isnt on soon, he's gonna go HELP.

[Yvonne Miyake] [thanks for the play!]

[Andrea Locke] A moment.; a beat of her own... she turns around then, warming her backside and facing him with a measuring look -- then she shrugs slightly, delicately. "I help a group of Kinfolk - spread throughout the country - who run a sort of... Underground Railroad, to use the most popular term. For fellow Kinfolk. About a week ago, now, I had a 'passenger' to help and in the midst of seeing him settled for the night, he attacked me. He's gone now - I haven't seen hide or hair of him since."

[Yvonne Miyake] After stealing one of the candles for use, she heads through the second floor and secludes herself in the bathroom for a time, cleaning out the cut and inspecting it in the darkness. The skin growing darker and ugly by the hour. It will take a week or two to go but its nothing to be concerned about. Repacking the medical kit, just the way she found it, minus a sticky strip that covers the cut near her collar bone, she stows it back into the closet where Andrea had showed her.

[Yvonne Miyake] Its not long after that when Yvonne is locked away in room seven. Her jacket and boots collected and kept well and neatly in her room. She's up early and beds down for the night, asleep before the power is restored.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] (thanks back!)

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] He listens quietly, gravely. When she's finished he sits up, leans forward to balance his elbows on his knees. His shoulders are rounded from this angle, sloped, hulking.

"Why did you lie to me the first time I asked?" -- softly.

[Andrea Locke] She doesn't pause. She doesn't take on a look like a dear suddenly caught in headlights. She doesn't even blink.
"There are things I might tell you or Mrena that I would not reveal before your pack."
No apology. No shying away, though in truth the hands that flex at her side do so more from instinctive tension than from seeking to soak up heat as one might assume.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "You could have called me aside."

[Andrea Locke] "I could have."
She watches him, steadily, but says nothing more on the matter. Her eyes seem pitch black, as she stands with her back to the fire. They may smolder with her refusal to beg any more reasons or apologize, but in the lack of light it is probably impossible to tell.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] There are some men, some women, who would never quite recover their original boundaries after a sexual encounter. There would always be lingering glances, or eyes that either stared too long or strayed away too soon. There would always be a different in the way they spoke, the way they interacted; a seductive quality, or an awkward one, or pure avoidance.

They do not seem troubled by such things. She keeps him at as much of a distance as before; he regards her with the same ice-eyed focus, intense and unwavering.

Then, quite abruptly, he stands up. The chair does not leap backwards; he doesn't shove himself up out of it. He stands, and that's all: silently, smoothly, the gathered energy in his body unraveling suddenly into this motion. He laces his hands loosely behind his back, then, the firelight warm on his bare chest. For someone so often dressed as carefully and elegantly as if every moment were a sort of performance, he wears his undress well. It suits him.

"Don't lie to me again," he says, very quiet. "Ever."

[Andrea Locke] It is instinctive. She could no more stop it than she could stop herself breathing -- he rises, abruptly, and every ounce of her being tenses at the ready. And whereas once he might simply have thought her skittish, he has seen the evidence someone else left behind, reason enough for anyone to be wary of a Garou. That she can associate with them as she does, that she does so willingly, that, yes, she can even bed them sometimes -- well, she's come a long way. But even so, she remembers. In the depths of her she always, always remembers and so it is questionable if she'd ever be able to be fully, completely at ease around any Garou. Ever.

She might well have backed up away from him if it hadn't been for the conflagration at her back.

As it is she holds her ground, but she is taut as a fine strung bow.

And meets his words only with silence. No assurances and neither any arguments. She watches him, her pulse rate increased, her breasts rising and falling marginally faster... but says not a word, nor gives any means of body language that distinctly agrees to his wishes.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] He doesn't need her agreement. He would ask for it from a Fostern, even a Cliath -- but then, in the end, she is only kin.

There's a silence: he watches her, she watches him.

Then his eyes flicker down her body, as though he might be able to see the slow-healing wound through her clothes. He cannot, of course -- and a moment later he takes his seat again.

"So what's this 'underground railroad' for kin? What are you ferrying them away from?"

[Andrea Locke] If she perceives the condescension behind his lack of concern for not answering [which, in all likelihood, she does] she shows no sign of it. There the faintest prolonged exhalation, then she simply moves to sit down at the armchair opposite his, crossing her legs and unbuttoning the sole button of her tailored, glove-fitting suit jacket as she speaks. "Whatever it is they need to escape. The need is not overwhelming but it exists and I aid it."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Is that how you got the scars?" It must be jarring how he slides so easily from topic to topic -- bruise to bruise. "Helped the wrong kin away from the wrong Garou?" Before she can reply -- "Or was it your own mate that did that to you?"

[Andrea Locke] "It was my mate." She doesn't whisper the words, like a wounded woman might very well do, but she speaks quietly all the same. Her detachment is clear, though - within she rages. Without she merely gazes into the fire, answering his questions simply. Shortly. Plainly. Without flinching.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Why?"

[Andrea Locke] Nothing.
For several moments nothing, then her eyes close and she shakes her head.
"Why do you ask me this, Lukas? Why would you even need to know? Please... just... caring does not move you. Curiosity is one thing - the need for information. But this has no barring on you. It has no barring on any way I might be of service to you. Let it lie."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] They're a good yard away at their closest; their faces, their eyes, are nearly double that with the way they sit in their chairs: she with her legs crossed, elegant; he with his weight far back in the chair, at repose. Still, there's an intensity in the air between. The silence is heavy, tastes like copper and ozone.

Then she closes her eyes, as though she could no longer bear the sight of him, implacable and somehow savage, stripped out of his fine sheep's clothing. In the darkness behind her lids she can hear him draw a breath, release it; the faint sound of his hair against the back of the armchair as he turns to look at the fire.

"I am not ... heartless," he says, as though it had taken him a moment to find the right word. "War is a brutal thing, but it does not have to be honorless. Those scars are not anything I would inflict upon anyone, much less a kin of my tribe. A mate of my life. I cannot imagine the justification." His regard comes back to her, and she can feel it, whether she opens her eyes or no. "I want to know why your mate would do that to you."

[Andrea Locke] There is a subtle restlessness to her hands tonight. Her fingers move and shift over the smooth, dark leather of the armchair, and it is perhaps the only thing that speaks of any internal turmoil. Strife. It is in her to snap back that if he is not so heartless he would leave her be. He wouldn't ask her to speak of such matters, when, as it is, she lives with the reminder of them every single day. She leans back into the chair, her own face turning, away from the fire, away from him, her cheek rubbing along creaking leather, vaguely like an animal seeking comfort. Escape.

At long last she releases her bottom lips from where she's snagged it between her teeth and speaks, except now it is a whisper, and so he will have to war against the crackle of the fire, perhaps, to hear her. "I loved another man before my mate. A kinfolk, like myself. It was an innocent love. I was just a teenager... I wasn't... innocent. But our love was. Or... we knew neither of our families would allow us to marry and so we did not act on our love. But it existed. My Uncle warned my mate of this when we married. He would risk nothing marring the family repuation. And my mate took it to heart... he was never faithful to me. I knew this. I was to him, though. I never strayed." She doesn't say it with the heat of righteous defense or indignation... all the while she whispers with those restless, restless fingers. "When I became barren... I couldn't lie with him. I couldn't bring myself to do it. And because I wouldn't, he construed it into proof of my infidelity. He blamed my supposed looseness for the illness I contracted and he swore all my lovers would know... he wouldn't be mocked. So he marked me."

She stops. She breathes. She looks towards the Garou across from her, finally - finally.... and sneers. "Do you want a play by play account of that too? I remember it all very clearly. Extreme--" With a suddenness she buries her face in her hands, very much like she is covering herself from shame or from screaming or from any number of things, but ultimately merely whispering again... "I'm sorry... I'm... please forgive me that. It was cruel. Forgive me."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] He listens expressionlessly. It's impossible to tell what he's thinking. His face is blank, save for the faint furrowing of his brow, which is impossible to read. It could be distress, to hear of her woes. It could be unease, to know his tribemate had done such a thing. It could be anger; it could be fucking boredom, for all she knew.

She snaps at him suddenly -- his eyebrows rise a fraction, but before he can speak she catches herself, hides her face, apologizes.

There's a long silence. Then she hears him get up, his bare feet quiet on the hardwood floor, or whatever it is that covers the ground of her establishment. She hears him walking away; a clink of a bottle somewhere. He comes back. Even if she hasn't looked up by now, she can tell he's near by the sound of it, and by the wash of his rage.

She can hear him unscrewing a bottle. Then she can smell it: scotch whisky, perhaps the very same they'd drank a few nights prior, the last time they'd had anything near a conversation at all.

He stops in front of her, holds the bottle out. No glass.

"I don't think there's anything for you to apologize for," he says.

[Andrea Locke] By the time he returns, her hands have slipped away from her face. As easily as it begins to be lost, she is recovering her composure once more. It isn't an entirely successful endeavor. The signs of distress are still there. But it is, if nothing else, a valient effort.

Her eyes, for the record, are devoid of tears.
Tears would help, of course. The release of endorphins would be welcome. But sometimes there is no such salvation, no such release. And she may well have cried herself out a long time ago. Eventually tears must end, least they merely drown you.

She accepts the bottle. "There is." Tilts it back. Tilts her head back, exposing the lean, slender stalk of ivory bathed in firelight. She doesn't guzzle down from the bottle, but she takes a long draw to be sure... then holds it back out to him, swallowing, licking its reside from her lips. "But thank you."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] He takes the bottle back. It's perhaps not a surprise when he screws the cap back on without drinking, sets the bottle on the small table with a click.

"All right; apology accepted, then."

He returns to his seat; frowning now. For the space of nearby a minute he seems to have forgotten about her. He stares into the fire, his brow knit, his fingers drumming restlessly on the arm of the chair. He doesn't seem to realize that, because when he does, he stops and curls his fingers into his palm.

"Who was your mate?" His regard returns to her.

[Andrea Locke] "Valgos Leonte." She doesn't hiss or choke on the name -- it is, ultimately, merely the name of a man long dead. "Shadow Malice - when we were mated he was an Adren. An Ahroun."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Another long quiet.

"Our tribe," he says at last, "has never been one to coddle our kin. And perhaps our reputation for valuing results over honorable approaches is rightfully earned. But it disturbs me to know a Garou like that could have risen as high as Adren." He stares at her; a muscle flexes in his cheek. Abruptly, "An Ahroun should be honorable. Otherwise we're nothing but bullies and thugs."

[Andrea Locke] Now - perhaps simply mellowed by the long drag of scotch, or simply reaching that point of emotion where you cannot continue constantly keyed up - she watches him as he speaks. More than listening to the words, she watches his eyes. His expressions. The muscle that flexes at his cheek.
And then, finally, in low tones, husky from the subterranean turmoil of moments before that still roils within her somewhat. Husky and slightly ragged from the harshness of liquor that just went down her tender throat... "I can only hope you still feel the same way if and when you reach such a rank."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] He smiles at that, but there's little humor in it. His eyes turn from her again. He looks at the fire, popping and crackling on the hearth. His thoughts are his own; he does not voice them. Indeed, he says nothing at all for some seconds -- half a minute or more. All through it his regard never wavers. It's a distinctly inhuman thing, that. A human is taught not to stare, that staring is rude. A Garou may have been taught such things, too, when he still thought himself human. But those lessons fade with each passing year, as do all memories of life before this.

This blaze; this war; this burden; this blessing.

"I am sorry," he says at last, "for what happened to you. I would offer to try and make reparations if I thought you would accept them -- but I think you've survived it yourself."

As if on cue -- and totally without warning -- the lights come back on. There may or may not be a distant yell of triumph. Lukas looks up at the lamps blinking on, and his mouth pulls into a faintly ironic smile.

"Well," he says, and gets to his feet, "guess you're back in business."

[Andrea Locke] From down below in the basement, there is, indeed, a primal wail of elation. Man has concurred machine. Man will reign supreme. Or something to that effect -- there's no knowing how much whiskey Coltrane consumed while working down there in the same of 'keeping warm' -- it's the wonder the wiring didn't catch flame.

She blinks somewhat like an unearthed mole in the sudden returned light, her pupils contracting to make up for the difference. Then he rises and she doesn't speak of reparations or survival or anything of the kind. She rises as well, taking up the heels she discarded at the fireplace mantel and running a hand through her tousled hair. Slipping the heels back on, she then stands straight, stretching gingerly and looking over her shoulder to him. Her gaze is, all in all, rather somber. Direct.
"It's bound to be a while before the rooms warm up again. Truth be told I'd sleep better with some shared body heat."
It isn't seduction, that's true. At least, not deliberately so. She is adept at seduction, but it isn't something she'd try on Lukas. Nor is it desperation or the neediness of a wounded woman. She makes the offer - quite plainly - and her happiness does not rest on his accepting it. Nor, does it seem, would be be ashamed by his refusal.
She's survived. Remembering is never easy -- but it doesn't mean she hasn't moved on.
But it's cold. It'll be so for a while as the heating system does its part. And she can think of worse things in life.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] There's a hesitation; these things are rare with Lukas, who possesses such extraordinary self-control, such quiet confidence. His chest rises and falls with a sudden, deep breath as if to re-center himself, and reorient himself in the scope of his world.

After, a little ruefully, the edge of his mouth turns up. "I think maybe I shouldn't," he says, gently. This answer is probably not a surprise; then again, the opposite, perhaps, would not have been either. And then, courteous to the bitter end: "But thank you."

He holds his hand out to help her to her feet. She probably doesn't need it. After she's begun to head for the stairs, he picks up the bottle of whisky, the pinched out candle, follows a moment after.