the value of kin.

[John Thornton] In the cool night air, a man quietly watches the people pass by around him. His trenchcoat is pulled tight against the chill night air, though his head is uncovered save for the thick mop of brown hair in a conservative cut teased by the scant winds. His expression is untelling, though perhaps a touch stern... Piercing hazel eyes float over the crowd, watching everyone and no one, everything and nothing.

A hot cup of black coffee steams merrily in his leather gloved hand, while eyes that appear to be considering newsprint wander elsewhere from his vantage point on a bench near a news stand.

[Nessa] This eveing, she walks from her most recent um business transaction, rather differently dressed than usual. A warm woolen dress coat, smooth dark boots which hide her otherwise exposed calves and wahtever weaponry she's got tucked away. Nessa has a businesslike briefcase cum messenger's bag thingy over one shoulder, and her hair-- seems to be muuch shorter than it was.

There is makeup, she has features, and they are not unattractive. As she approaches him more closely, she smiles, warm and friendly and not at all murderous. "John! And why did you wish to meet here, outside, instead of warm place? You are not from Moscow's frozen balls of neighborhood!"

[Lukas] (slow, am cooking!)

[Katherine] (ack, sorry guys, the chat did not refresh for me.)

[John Thornton] ((Np))

[John Thornton] "I'm looking for someone... Someone I thought I knew. Perhaps he and I can catch up on old times...

Besides, what better place to enjoy hot coffee?"

John smiles, folding the newspaper into a neat pile and setting it under the bench. So folded, the small cut placed in the crease of the newspaper would go unnoticed to all but the most careful observer. Even were it noticed, most would attribute it to some error of the paper cutting machine, rather than some carefully considered action by John. Hazel eyes that had followed her approach from farther down the street return to their roving view of the crowds before he speaks again.

"You've cut your hair. It looks nice."

[Lukas] There's a place on the Mile where you can get a pretty decent cup of european-style hot chocolate or, as they say, sipping chocolate. This is what Lukas comes out of, complete with liquid cocoa. He's about to head back to the Brotherhood when --

"Nessa. Hey. Didn't expect to see you here." The Ahroun changes course, ambles over to say hi to Nessa and her friend. He's a well-dressed fellow, quite tall, imposing in a black overcoat that shrouds him from neck to knee. A thick scarf muffles his throat; his head is bare. His eyes are sharply blue, and they look at John with unguarded curiosity.

[Nessa] "Ah you noticed. What is phrase? Cookie points for you. Is.. less memorable I think this way. Also, I no longer have to avoid sitting on it. Better place is inside. Where is warm."
She inspects the coffee as she sits beside him, tucks her feet tidily under the bench to one side, one hand resting on her bag. Maybe he needs all the wet warmth he can get. Maybe she should not con his coffee from him.
The woman shivers slightly, just enough, in the cold night air. Touches one arm to her other bicep as if cold, in case he didn't get the po--
BUT con is interrupted, as every hair on her body stands on end in a slow cascade of sensation.
Lukas alert.
Plus, her tribesmate has Chocolate.
Her face lights in an apparently honest, happy welcome as the ahroun pushes his Rage closer and closer, some strategic move likely. Tickles the wild thing inside her, makes her teeth show. "Lukas! Is good to see you! Something smells very holy." Her nostrils flare, a reaction of instinct and provocation.
"Lukas, one of Sam's newest kin. I am sure you have heard?" She indicates John, shows the kin that it is alright, the threat he feels from the garou is... a good sort.
Sort of.
The man IS a Shadowlord, after all. At least whatever threats he makes will be thorough.

[John Thornton] Hazel eyes meet the blue-eyed gaze of Nessa's kinsman, hazel eyes that seem to see too much... Hazel eyes that seem to peer in through the windows of the soul unabashedly.

John sets the coffee on the seat beside Nessa, as if to indicate it was hers for the taking. Then, John stands... Though not as tall as as the Shadow Lord, John's solid frame was not without its own measure of imposition.

"A pleasure... Lukas, is it?"

As the Rage touched him, John got the sense of danger, of threat, that he has experienced on several occasions to this point. His reaction is as untelling this time as it was the last.

There isn't any. Flushed cheeks were common in such cold weather, and there was little telling how long John had tarried in the cold awaiting this man he thought he knew.

[Lukas] (sorry *LOL* back now for good)

[John Thornton] ((wubbah))

[Lukas] "Yeah." And if Nessa got the pronunciation wrong, he'll repeat his name again the right way, Lukáš, with an aspirated Czech s at the end -- but subtly, without any apparent desire to embarrass the woman. He offers his hand, gloved. The fabric is some protection from the sear of his Rage as he shakes the other's hand the human way, palm to palm. "Nice to meet you. I'm one of Nessa's cousins. Sorry, I didn't catch your name."

His grip is firm, but not crushing. He doesn't bear down harder than he has to. It's confident -- not overbearing. Afterward he lets go, straightens, and his posture is much the same: confident, not overbearing.

[Nessa] Her gaze flicks off Lukas's cup-- reluctantly- and towards John, intensifies, hoping he remembers what she told him about introductions.

Her smile is that of contentment, and possibly warmer warmth that before, as she explains to the fenrir's kin, "Lukas is my guardian. Usually is one for each of us, or one for many-- but keeps trouble away from us. Our cousins are creatures of instinct; guardian is good to have, makes us safer. Is not connotation of immaturity as with minor and adults."

And maybe she believes that, and maybe she doesn't. Her words are tame, but not the energy off her body.

[John Thornton] John's handshake is similarly acceptable, the perfect mixture of strength and civility. He smiles pleasantly, the hazel eyes remaining on Lukas and Nessa as they spoke, but periodically moving over the crowd... As if their vigilance knew no respite.

"I'm Detective John Thornton... One of Sam's cousins."

It's a statement, though true, that had caused no slight measure of discord for John in recent days. For indeed, how does one who has believed werewolves a myth reconcile meeting them en masse? Still, the only trace of his trepidation might be the slightest darkening of the flesh around the eyes... Easily missed in the night and the garish lights of the Mile.

And while his statement of tribe was not technically sufficient to meet requisites for introduction, in a public space such as this, it seemed prudent to exercise caution. Walls do indeed have ears.

[John Thornton] ((15 minute warning))

[Lukas] "Yes, so Nessa said. Have you met Sam yet?"

There's a spark of humor in Lukas' eye, or what might be humor. It's always hard to be certain with these creatures who were half-men at best. John might be new to the knowledge, but he is not new to this world. His instinct is wiser than he is, sharper than a human's, and his instinct warns him of creatures like Lukas, who can be charismatic, can even be honorable and good, but are not, in the end, anything close to human.

Nessa gives a small lecture -- Lukas glances at her; the amusement compounds, turning up the corners of his mouth. "What is this, a schoolroom?"

[Nessa] "Da, it is, for some time yet. He only just learned of our world. And your world. I also was not raised to know what I was,"
and was not warned, what I would become, or the cost...
"And so since we are friends, I tell him what I can. Is good?"
The moonlight, lamplight, shines on her pale face as she gazes up with what is likely innocence towards the ahroun; she had not stood when the others had, resting her legs from their recent effort. Indeed, Lukas's nose might find the evidence of recent strenuous activity, at odds with her more professional demeanor now.

[John Thornton] "Some of us hadn't the benefit of certain knowledge in their youth. That leaves few alternatives when opportunities present themselves..."

John's pleasant smile fades, dying a silent death as he speaks. His eyes continue to roam the crowd without abatement, though Lukas' reaction to his words is plainly visible in his peripheral vision.

"As for Sam, we've been acquainted, briefly. That encounter is part of what started my recent educational pursuit."

[Lukas] "Oh, I see. Well." Lukas' brow furrows for a moment in thought; then he adds a bit to the lesson himself. "You should probably know that every kin within a protectorate is claimed de facto by the eldest of his or her tribe, unless guardianship was previously claimed by another, expressly given over, or won by another Garou."

He pauses to sip his hot chocolate, his eyes watching a young couple pass with a casual, thoughtless vigilance. Lowering the cup, he continues.

"Every Garou defines his guardianship differently. I'm pretty lenient; I just ask that Nessa comes to me with any problems, and informs me of any important occurrences in her life. I suppose your Elder would be Kemp. You should probably meet him too."

It must be a little shocking, if not ludicrous, for John Thornton -- a man with a career and a life, maturity and strength and leadership enough to make detective -- to hear this spoken so casually, and so glibly, by Lukas. By human standards, Lukas is the age of a college kid, a junior, a senior, something of the sort. By human standards, the near-feudal practices he calls 'lenient' would be appalling.

[Nessa] Frankly, compared to the OTHER guardians she's had in her life... Lukas is beyond lenient. He's a fucking stoned hippie lying on the couch, only well washed and dressed better.

She nods in a feral contentment as he calls himself 'Lenient', reaches for John's coffee as Kemp is mentioned, turning her face towards the heat of the dark brew.

"Thank you. I did not know as many details of guardianship." These, she files away for later, just as she drinks John's coffee. Such as it is.

[Nessa] (16 degree wind chill here.)
to John Thornton, Katherine, Lukas

[John Thornton] "I understand. I have met Kemp; he elaborated on that which Sam was loathe to discuss."

John then pauses, hazel eyes stopping on one person in the crowd, on a street corner across from the bench where they speak. His tone grew low, dark by comparison, his expression likewise harsh... Nigh unto that of a Half Moon delivering sentence unto one whom has trespassed upon the Litany itself.

"Please excuse me... I see someone I really should touch base with..."

A certain hooded street punk, hocking his illegal wares on the street corner, only just arrived to his business venue for the evening. John's stocky form cuts a swath through the crowd, and all too quickly he disappears among them, blending in neatly as he crosses the street. Like that, John is one of the mob, his head held down so as not to spook the quarry before he's in position.

It's clearly something he's done many times before... And does well.

((Sorry, I gotta jet. We'll say John went after a drug dealer he's been seeking for some time now. Thanks for the scene folks; was a good one))

[Lukas] She thanks him; he shrugs. "Well, now you do."

John makes his goodbye -- takes off rather quickly. Lukas watches him for a moment, then returns his attention to Nessa. He smiles.

"Your friend is nice. Where are you headed?"

[Nessa] "He is.. honest, and doing well in spite of how bewildering first week is, da? I am done with my work tonight. I am going to pick up Luc shortly, then home. Yourself?"
She stands now, feels the soreness in her muscles from the night's efforts, welcomes it.
Success is worth a little aching.
The chocolate smells very good, now that she is a step closer to it. Her stomach growls a little.

[Lukas] Lukas looks down the length of the Mile, growing quiet at last. Then back to her: "I think I'll shortly be heading back to the Brotherhood. What's your job?"

[Nessa] Secret Shadowlord Smile. "I do data entry work for security company." That, she can say in a normal voice. But, no way will she say the last in the same way, uses that certain pitch, a little lower, quieter.
"Also, I have more profitable activities, such as tonight. I... acquire items, information, then ahh distribute, for money. Sometimes, I do Not distribute, also for money. I have.. certain goals."

[Lukas] The Ahroun slants her a glance. "Uhhuh." He says, the way another might say aha. But this is not aha, because he doesn't quite know what she's talking about. Decides not to ask, for now. "Well. Do you want a ride back to your place?"

[Nessa] "How about escort to my van? I am parked four blocks away. Your company would be welcome." So would a sip of his cocoa, but if he isn't offering, she isn't begging.
Yet.

[Lukas] "All right." Truth is, Lukas didn't make a habit of escorting kin home, or to cars, or anywhere else. Still; some random jolt of pity -- the weather, the distance, the assumption that the kin was going to walk -- had spurred the offer, and now it was too late to retract it without seeming the worst sort of rude.

So he falls in beside him, his rage cleaving a path through what pedestrians are left at this hour. To fill the empty space, he asks, "Mind if I ask you what went on between you and Kemp-rhya, exactly?"

[Nessa] Nessa's eyes widen slightly and then return to their formerly relaxed position as she begins to stroll with him, making a point of Seriously avoiding gutters as they pass them.
"I expected this question sooner or later. Is fine. I was not in love with him. My mate had been killed. Kemp was my-- I thought he was my dear friend. I was losing it-- takign huge risks, being ahh stupid I guess. One night, only, with Kemp, just to feel less ahh dead.
Well. Everything changed. What i thought I knew, I was... very very mistaken on. Now, I have Luc, until he can tolerate Kemp's rage. He has set certain conditions for my keeping Luc till then. I agreed.
I think.. that is all there is now."
Around another grate. far away from it, letting Lukas be the bait for squids instead of her own, squishier self.

[Lukas] Lukas listens quietly. They leave the glitz and glamour of the Mile behind. Chicago can be a city of great elegance and culture, but it is also a dark city, with a bloody past full of industry and crime. The farther they leave the lakeshore and the heart of downtown behind, the more obvious this becomes.

The night folds around them. But then, they are Shadow Lords, accustomed to darkness and shadows. It should not bother them.

Beside her, Lukas is a tall and silent presence, pacing the kinwoman as though he were, indeed, her guardian. In truth, on a night like this, the moon full, he's as much threat as ward. No Garou is ever truly calm, especially not one of his moon. He's simply better controlled than most; or a better pretender than most.

When she's finished he glances at her. "Seems like an unfortunate position for you to be in," he remarks, "carrying and bearing the child of a Garou who is not your mate, and did not choose to claim you. It is the place of a kin to make sacrifices for her Garou, as a Garou makes sacrifices for Gaia. But as you say, he is not your Garou."

[Nessa] "There are worse positions. Widow is worse. My mate was Baaku Harah, the Agony Thane and Fostern philodox. My garou is dead, and before he died, he did not give me his child. He wanted us to wait, and I have nothing of him. It was like.. dying with him. That is worse, Lukas. My son is...his life is nothing I can or will regret. I... live again. I am not alone anymore."

This is not an easy conversation to have, but she has done it far worse and deeply, and repeatedly, said harsher things before. Nessa stares ahead, only looks at her companion-- and up--at the very end, meeting his eyes.

Woman has no shame. Not anymore.

[Lukas] "I heard about your mate," Lukas says, quiet, thoughtful. "I've tried to familiarize myself with the history of this place, when I first arrived. I learned the names and deeds of those who are buried in the graves, and I asked the Guardians about those who came before me.

"The Agony Thane was killed by the Fenrir, wasn't he? Now your child is born to the Fenrir; will be claimed by the Fenrir, by what you have told me, when he is old enough to learn from them without fear. What will you do then, kinwoman?"

[Nessa] Nessa doesn't stop walking. But her jaw clenches so hard it affects the words she speaks, enough to show the strain. "My son will not go to the metis who killed him. He will not to go the pack who... Well. Decker himself has said that my son is no Fenrir. Only claim to that tribe is through Kemp."
Ok now she stops. Now she looks directly at Lukas. Intense, and grimfaced, and not at all happy about this, but... Nessa takes a step or two closer, to speak so softly to Lukas... just in case another one is near and can hear. A certain one.
"Kemp is... well. I know him. He is alone. He will join no pack. He is.. Lukas, what are chances a garou who has been fighting so long, is sooo bitter, is so isolated he will no longer trust others, not even to pack, will live another 12 years? Or more? Or however it will take, for Luc to grow to tolerate the presence of one so filled with Rage? Is ugly, hideous truth, and I do not gloat.
But I seriously doubt my son will ever go to Kemp, not if he keeps this way."

If he lets her continue, she does. "If he does... well. I hope to have another child before then. Because otherwise I will be... alone again, and that i hate. Before more children though, I need to make safer place for Luk and myself, one more easily protected, better long term, with room perhaps for other kin and children too. BRotherhood gives me ideas. Perhaps we can talk of that, another night."

[the devil] (can I lurk?)
to Lukas, Nessa

[Nessa] (Sure but i am nearly done here. TIRED. *eyes damon* DO NOT do anything remotely like being terribly interesting now with luring me into more play tonight!)
to Lukas, the devil

[Lukas] Another night, the kinwoman says, and it's appropriate: her van is in sight.

Lukas slows, soon stopping so that Nessa must turn to face him to continue this conversation. "Just a thought, kinwoman," he says. "Perhaps you should not judge yourself so completely on your children.

"There was a time when kin were valued largely for their ability to sire and bear children. I think that time is over now, though most Garou refuse to believe it. But the elders say the Garou who will fight in the final battle have already been born. I think these days kin have better uses are liaisons, spies, wheelers-and-dealers in the human spheres.

"Perhaps you should think less of yourself and your solitude, and more of what use you can put yourself to. For the sake of the Nation -- but for your own sake, your own sense of self-worth, too."

[Nessa] Nessa is as touched as Lukas's cheek, as the gentle, pale hand moves away from it, just a faint caress, likely on still-smooth skin. On her own face is a gooey warmth, like melted chocolate, liquid and delicious.

"Ahh.. I am warmed, and more, by your words! Good thing I am already spy, and thief, and security expert and safe cracker and blackmailer and more, da? But I am also mother, and.. i find.. I love it very much. What is wierd, is that I am good at it. Who knew?"

Nessa pulls out her keys and grins rather widely. " Thank you for everything so far. I must say, of all guardians I have had, not one is like you, Lukas! Good night!"

[Lukas] Another Garou might flinch away, or catch her hand, or turn into the touch. Lukas does none of these things. He remains as he is, neither encouraging nor discouraging: he simply accepts the brief caress as what it is. A sign of appreciation. A communication of gratitude.

"You would not be a very good mother if you did not enjoy it," he notes, wryly, after she has drawn away. "But don't let it and it alone define you. A Shadow Lord kinwoman is worth more than that."

She bids him goodnight, and he nods to her, a faintly formal inclination of his head. He has that air about him: old-world manners; the bearing of eagles. Blame it on his pure blood, or his ancestry, or his tribe, or simply blame it on who he is. "Goodnight, Nessa," he says, and, raising his hot (now cooling) cocoa to sip, turns away and walks back the way he'd come.