incomplete.

[Sam Modine] While the girl is entering into the darkness of the afterhours kitchen downstairs her...whatever he is is upstairs in the common bathroom, washing his hands and sweeping cold water in twin palms onto his face. This Modi is as much wolf as man, perhaps more than is safe even. Regardless it's almost second nature for his head to snap at ninety degrees toward the doorway and let his feet carry him out toward the smell that alerted him before either of the voices in the common room.

Blood.

Gabriella.

Little rivulets of water still cling to the young man's face as he doesn't even bother to wipe it on one of the clean hand towels between the sinks. Instead he's rushing across the hall and into the room with no small amount of haste. When he arrives he's stopped dead at the sight of her, caked in a half a battle's worth of vital grime. "Ah..." Eyes float down onto the table toward the gun. Then go to his packmate and back to the girl. "Hey...hey...." His voice is nothing if not calming, reassuring. It's a low tones that comes out of him as he moves forward with his head low the same way an animal might. "Slow down...take it easy, you're okay now...."

"What happened?" That last turned for his packmate.

[Lukas] Gabbie stammers, and then she reaches behind her back and she whips a gun out.

The moon's still nearly full. He's an Ahroun. She's a bloody kin on the edge, and god knows what she's just been through, and now she's making sudden movements with a deadly weapon. Lukas is instantly, snappingly upright, the book not so much tossed aside as simply slipping forgotten out of his hand. For a second there's such abrupt purpose in his motion, such a lacerating spike of rage in the air, that it's hard to say what he means to do, exactly.

Then she drops the gun. And his hands are reaching out not to grab her but to catch the gun, neatly, even as he's rising to his feet.

He has no familiarity with firearms. She can tell from the way he handles the weapon, inexpertly and carefully. But he's intelligent, and he's seen enough cop shows to know there's a safety catch somewhere, and also a slide to release the cartridge. He makes sure the former is on before he fiddles with the latter, and then all at once the clip pops out of the handle and he sets the gun down, unloaded, its clip beside it.

By then Sam has appeared. "I don't know," Lukas replies, evenly. "She shot someone. Take her to the showers and get her cleaned up. I'll call Ed and let him know."

Ed. Not Kate. Because frankly, Lukas has no idea where Kate is, and hasn't heard from her for ... a long time. But he's not about to mention that aloud right now.

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Needless to say, Gabbie wasn't precisely in the most logical state of mind at the moment. It didn't occur to her that brandishing a gun, even for a moment, would illict such a reaction from Lukas. Later she would think 'Well, why wouldn't it, all things considered?'. Now, though when Lukas was suddenly on his feet, reaching out in her direction quickly, she didn't pause to consider whether he was grabbing at her or the gun. A sound akin to a whimper breathed uneasily out of her nose and she skipped a step backward, huddling her arms to her chest.

He was after the gun. Just after the gun.

She didn't run any further, or back herself against a wall. Just watched him dismantle the gun so it was no longer a threat, then looked over to Sam when he had some skidding into the room. His presence was sudden, no doubt, but not percievably aggressive toward her, so she didn't shy away. Even when he did approach her slowly, easily, with his head ducked and potentially braced for the charge.

She swallowed hard and looked between the two, the blonde-haired and the black-haired, and made another attempt at explaining herself, though it would likely just confuse the situation more than shed any light on it. "I don't want to go to jail, Sam, Lukas! I don't want to associate with the mafia, I was obligated..!"

Ohhhh Gabbie, what have you done?

[Hatchet] The boisterous tenor voice booms from the hallways of the 'dorm' rooms well before footsteps even tremor through the floor enough to be felt in the common room. He was singing in his own room before throwing the door open, and he sings all the way around the corner and down the hall:

"Well, I once met a girl -- a child, I'm told -- I gave her my heart, and she gave me a cold. So now I sit staring here, out in the pouring rain. I'll go down to Kelly's Pub, and cry away me --"

and around another corner, into the doorway to the common room. That's where Hatchet stops singing. That's where Hatchet stops walking. He just stops...everything. He stops breathing, even, for a moment, and his eyes go from fog to silver.

I was obligated!

His mouth is open. He closes it. The Philodox, whose moon is not yet waning in the sky -- and thank Gaia for that, thank her that Taggart does not see blood all over Gabriella and feel compelled by Luna to make an immediate judgment -- licks his lips, and his nostrils flare.

"...the fuck?"

[Sam Modine] Okay that's just ridiculous.

Sam looks nothing if not puzzled, both his hands rising to meet either of Gabbie's arms, moving up and dwon the length of her biceps with his hands on the outside of her hoodie. "Shhh......" he's still quiet. "Slow down, slow down. You gotta tell me what happened." One of his thumbs touched flesh where it should not and when he draws to look at it, it's becomes red, the color of human innards touching air. "You're hurt." His eyes meet her own.

"What happened, what were you obligated to do." He hears the Fianna coming in behind him but doesn't even turn to greet him, doesn't move from right where he's standing now.

[Lukas] Jail? Lukas thinks -- the thought is an abstract whorl in his mind. He looks like he belongs in the human world sometimes; he fakes it well. But he hasn't thought of murder as a crime punishable by imprisonment, possibly death, for years.

And, Mafia? It's an even more abstract idea, one that apparently Theurges and Lightbringers like Milo contemplates, but not one that really ever edges into Lukas's world.

Being Garou changes things. When you are the big bad wolf, the monster in the night, your scales for morals, for fear, for evil -- they all change.

He speaks to Sam, quietly and steadily: "Get her cleaned up first, Sam."

Don't harass her with questions right now. The rest is unvoiced. You won't get much out of her. Get the blood off her hands first, and she'll feel calmer.

And Hatchet enters, singing, then not singing. Lukas looks at the Fostern for a moment; his face betrays little. In the end he neither encourages Hatchet to approach, nor tells him to back off. The Shadow Lord just crosses the room, picks the landline phone off its wall cradle and dials the Bellamontes' number from memory. He braces one hand against the wall while he waits for the phone to ring.

[Gabriella Bellamonte] A too familiar voice touched her ears, she didn't need to look to know who had just joined the scene. Not that she really could if she wanted to, anyways, because Sam was directly in front of her now, his chest and shoulders blocking her view of most of the room now. He shushed her, encouraged her to slow down, then tried to pry a story out of her. She swallowed hard, again, then his hands ran down her arms. One of his fingers would find a hole in the arm of her sweater, blood that's much wetter than the drying sticky mess over the rest of her, and raw flesh a meat just on the inside of her left arm.

She hissed in pain, drawing air sharply through her teeth, and flinched back from his hands. Salty, oily human fingers on open wounds never felt nice, especially not when you didn't realize you were wounded.

You're hurt.

"..Oh.." Her right hand slapped over the open and bleeding area on her left arm, covering it through her hoodie, and if it was possible her face paled more under that mantle of blood, smeared and freckled and patched on her skin. "He shot me... Dear God." Her knees buckled and she wavered some. A realization of how very close to death she had been just hit her like a wall.

[Hatchet] Hatchet steps backwards, back into the hall, and removes himself silently from the common room. Quiet footsteps pad across thinly-carpeted floors, until another door swings open. A few seconds later, the rattle of pipes and the crash of water can be heard distantly coming from one of the shower stalls. It's left on, and Hatchet shows back up. This time he doesn't block the doorway. He steps into the common room, thankfully missing the part where Gabriella realizes she's been shot.

"The water's warming up," is all he says, his speaking voice -- as ever -- quite a bit lower than his singing one.

[Sam Modine] "It's okay." Discerning eyes look over the spot where lad has peeled back flesh from muscle. "It's not bad." He weakly turns his lips up at the corners and glances from the wound to her as though keep ing her own attention away from the spot and on his face as he finishes the inspection. "Like a skinned knee."

Sure. The belated message returned with a thought and a nod against the silence that seems out of place perhaps to those not listening.

"Let's get you in the shower." He's locking his eyes to hers and nodding them up and down. One hand slips away from her arm and circles her back, pressing his palm onto the small of it. "C'mon." The lightest of pressure laid there guides her out of the room, the Fenrir's tall, broad form eclipsing the rear of hers and not allowing her to protest by returning to the assembled werewolves even if she decided to.

"I'm sure Mrena has something for you to wear."

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] ( Got room for another? )

[Gabriella Bellamonte] (( Don't see why not. Scene is open. :) ))

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] Thursday night, and Caleb has come from the caern for a bit of refreshment and relaxation. The front door opened, and the Silver Fang swept into the common room with a sharp gust of chill spring air before it was closed behind him. Turning, he cast his eyes around the room before heading to the bar.

He wore his black three-quarter overcoat buttoned from throat to waist, those boots that laced to the knee and dark grey jeans and a crisp white shirt, the collar highly starched.

[Lukas] His back to the room, his head bent to the phone, Lukas waits for someone to pick up. The other end rings... and rings... and rings.

Eventually voicemail kicks in. Ed's jocular tones or Kate's icy ones; either way, someone tells Lukas to leave a message because the Bellamontes aren't in right now. The Ahroun pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers for a moment, then speaks into the receiver, low.

"Hey, Ed. It's Lukas. It's about Gabriella. Don't worry, she's fine. But she's at the Brotherhood right now and it looks like she was in a tussle. She's a little shaken up. I think she might've killed someone, possibly someone with criminal underworld connections, so if you guys have any strings to pull you might want to get those wheels greased up in preparation."

He shot me, Gabbie says behind him, and Lukas grits his teeth, hopes to god the receiver didn't pick that up too.

"She got grazed in the fight, but don't worry. It doesn't look bad. We'll get her cleaned up and I'll keep an eye on her tonight." Pause. "If you get this message, pass it on to Kate, okay?"

And then Lukas hangs up. And then he tries Ed's cell phone.

[Lukas] HAIL KAHSEENO
to Hatchet

[Lukas] (jumping in the shower, back in a bit!)

[Hatchet] [Is this scene retro? I thought it was set on Sunday night.]

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] ( Close enough. )

[Sam Modine] (yeah it's the wee hours of monday morning)

[Hatchet] [Thanks!]

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Again, her ears felts bogged down with water, because words were half-understandable. Lukas and Oscar, for their being across the room, were impossible to understand even if she could determine whose voice was whose. Only some of what Sam had to say sunk in, but it was enough for her to get the idea. The bullet wound wasn't that bad (no, of course it wasn't, when compared to what she did to those young men, and how Jackie was right now), and she should go shower. Something else about Mrena.

Shivering in a manner more commonly seen in Chihuahuas, Gabbie nodded her head a little and let Sam usher her into the communal washroom, arching her spine some in response to the firm guiding hand at her lower back, as though her body wanted to keep ahead of him rather than have his fingers run the risk of turning to claws and finding themselves a more intimate relationship with her spine.

Her eyes fluttered to Hatchet when she passed him, lingered on him for a few seconds before she was out of the commonroom and her stained sneakers were finding tile rather than carpet.

[Hatchet] His eyes meet Gabriella's when she passes by him, for whatever that's worth. He doesn't hold onto the gaze or let his own linger; it moves up and across to Sam as the Modi goes by, but he doesn't let himself wince until they're both out of the room. A breath leaves his lungs, and he looks not at Wyrmbreaker but at the gun. His nose twitches as though he's smelled something distasteful, but he does not start asking questions, not when Lukas is on the phone.

Hatchet does end up going to the couch, sitting himself down, and staring at the gun somewhat curiously. He's not wondering what it is. He's wondering how Gabriella's arm didn't shatter while firing it.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] When the Silver Fang had gotten his ordered drink - a hot mug of spiced wine, he then headed upstairs to see what may be seen and to see whom was about. Perhaps some of the Circle would be there; it was always good to continue rubbing elbows with those that you were going to pack with eventually.

When he got up there, he saw Sam and someone else ushering Gabriella into the showers. The girl looked in a half-daze, if anything, but Caleb still said nothing. To those that acknowledged him they were given a brief nod of hello before he found himself a place to sit down at.

[Sam Modine] Sam and the youngest Bellamonte make their way through until the flooring changes, where they can begin work on removing the soaking crimson mess that's begun to dry tacky and dark all over her. The Modi get into one of the stall, clothes still on with a quick jerk of the curtain and a twist of the metal control for the pressure and temperature. One hand is placed under the flow to check the temp before he exits and finds Gabrielle again in the middle of the room where he's left her for these few seconds.

"Go ahead and get started, I'll get you some soap and stuff from my room." He rushes past her and toward his own room then around the corner to that shared by the Galliard and theurge of his pack. When he returns he's got a pair or Mrena's jeans, one of his own pullover hoodies which will be massive on the kinfolk and a handful of shower accessores. Body wash, washcloth, shampoo and conditioner along with a towel slug over one shoulder to complete the set. It only takes him a couple of minutes all totaled but it's enough to make him apologize when he reappears with his hand over his eyes. "Sorry, sorry, i'm back. Here, I got you some things."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Sam may or may not help her disrobe. One way or the other, she doesn't really care, though she would appear to require some help at least removing the hoodie she wore which, following the rules of today's young woman's fashion, was snug, hugging her arms, belly, chest and all. Fabric scraped over the wound that she was suddenly aware of after running around with it for two hours or so, and she flinched, then dropped the garment to the floor. Under the hoodie she wore a white T-shirt that was blotched pink in some places, for the most part the hoodie had soaked most of the blood and protected the shirt-- except for along the left side where her own blood had seeped in toward her armpit and down her ribcage.

Doing her best not to look too closely at that, for fear that she might vomit (again, that'd be the third time tonight if she did), she was down to bra and jeans when Sam emerged from adjusting the shower's temperature then excused himself from the room. When he returned, the rest of her clothes were left in a very teenage-esque pile in the middle of the floor, and the slap of fast-flowing water against tile had softened due to having flesh interrupt its path.

Were she not in her current state, she'd laugh at Sam's sudden and inexplicable show of protecting her modesty, going so far as to coer his eyes with a hand and all. However, she can hardly muster an inward smile at this, and instead stood under the showerhead, looking down at the floor under her feet, watching it stain pink as the blood was gradually rinsed off her. She seemed to have lost her voice, she couldn't gather enough of it to call out an acknowledgement to Sam.

[Lukas] Lukas finishes his second phone call a few minutes later. It sounds almost the same as the first. Damage control, is what it is: passing information on where it needs to go in the calmest, most non-hysteria-inducing way possible. Getting the right parties informed so they can do the right things and make the right decisions, and not fly off the fucking handle.

When he's done he hangs the phone firmly back on the wall. Sam has taken Gabbie to the showers by then. Lukas comes back to the coffee table, standing across from Hatchet, leaning down to pick up the gun and the clip. The gun is heavy, even unloaded. The muzzle scrapes over the surface of the table as he's lifting it, and the noise is surprisingly loud.

He does a thing which normal human beings would find inexplicable. Which is to say, he does a thing that Caleb and Hatchet will understand immediately.

He sniffs the gun. Carefully.

[Hatchet] "...the fuck?"

He asked this when he first walked into the room. He asks it again when Lukas is off the phone and standing on the other side of the coffee table from him, looking at the Ahroun as he sniffs the thing. He's not asking about the sniffing. He's asking about the bloody Kinswoman.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] Caleb did indeed understand about Lukas sniffing the weapon. He eyed the thing a bit in askance, but said nothing right at that moment. The gun was also given a heavy eye of contempt - for a man that favored the bow and sword over modern weapons like firearms it was expected. Shoot a Wyrmling, and he'll get back up; shoot him in the head, and he may still get back up; cleave that wyrmling's head from its shoulders and he won't ever get back up.

That line of reasoning has served for centuries ever since bladed weapons first came into play when Man began fashioning them out of bronze and copper. Today's soldier considered such things to be primitive, but it was still no less effective. "Trouble?" he asked as he sipped the steaming mug of spiced wine, to Lukas.

[Lukas] It takes him only a moment to catch a scent he recognizes. When he does his eyes widen for a second, turn hard. Then he snorts, as if to clear his nostrils.

Lukas puts the gun back down. The clip too. And then he takes a seat across the corner of the sofa from Hatchet, where he can include Caleb in his words as well. After all, with both Bellamontes AWOL, Caleb wasn't only a prospective packmate -- he was the girl's guardian.

"I don't know much more than either of you. She showed up bloody, talked about the mafia. Probably killed someone, or multiple someones. Looks like she took a shot through the arm too."

To Caleb then, "Have you spoken to Kate lately?"

[Sam Modine] She's quiet in the shower. Slowly the hand drops from in front of his eyes and he goes about hanging the towel outside the stall and gathering the rest up to hand inside. The clothes are left folded on the edge of one sink, much neater than the pile of her own he steps over.

"Hey, um." He squints and looks to the floor as he opens the curtain just slightly to hand in the various bottles and cloth. He looks up when more words don't come, almost on instinct before turning away again from the naked girl washing away the blood caked across her face and hair and hands and all the other many places where the splatter comes back at you from the muzzle of a weapon. "I-" He swallows. "Are you okay?" This is quiet, something between the two of them while the others make phonecalls and do the damage control.

This is personal, concerned.

[Gabriella Bellamonte] When the bottles were passed through the small space in the curtain, they were accepted and set up in the wire rack tacked onto the wall for just such items. The cloth was accepted also, lathered up with bodywash, then put to work scrubbing the blood away. She was ginger around the underside of her left arm, but everywhere else she scrubbed almost too vigerously, with her knuckles pressed into the cloth rather than fingertips.

A few moments of quiet passed, leaving nothing but steam and the smell of soap to fill the void before she murmered to him, watching every inch of skin she washed as she did so, scrutinizing to make sure all traces of the men she murdered were gone. "I shot them in the face, Sam... What kind of a monster does that?" Her tone was all too solemn, carrying words that were much too heavy for any eighteen year old college freshman to be speaking anywhere outside of a theatrical interpretation.

[Hatchet] He has almost nothing to say to that. He has almost nothing to say, period. Hatchet lifts a hand and scratches at his beard, frowning at the firearm in an utterly different way than Caleb. It isn't contempt in his eyes, but faint bewilderment and a deeper trouble. Gabbie isn't his Kinfolk, she is -- or was, or could have been, or something -- his friend. Who is covered in blood, very little of it her own.

"She is going to flip," he mutters, at the mention of Kate.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] That was probably the pure truth. Unless the Bellamontes somehow showed up from their M.I.A. status, it was likely that Caleb was the only true-born family that Gabriella had. Prospective packmate, yes, but Silver Fang first. "What is it?" he asked, referring to the scent that the Ahroun picked up on.

The spiced wine was sipped again and Caleb sat back in his chair, peering into the winecup and swirling it's contents. Gunfights, the mafia, killings on both sides or only on one and one of his Kinfolk injured. His lips firmed into a narrow horizontal line in distaste. No, near outrage.

"Erick Wujcik had spoken of your tribemate, Milo, having dealings with the underworld. Perhaps he may have a clue," Caleb said in regards to the Mafia. As if they didn't have enough trouble hanging over their heads, now they had the human mafia to contend with as well. "If you would like, I can heal her injuries."

An eyebrow arched. "Katherine? No, I am afraid not." Scarce were the times that he met with the Philodox.

[Sam Modine] There's a long bout of silence between the two of them then, as he thinks on what she's saying, weighs it.

When he does speak again the blonde fullmoon doesn't patronize or try and cajole her into laughing. He doesn't diffuse but addresses her concern earnestly, sticking his head in after her and lowering his face down to hers to look there while he speaks, offering something human to hold instead of falling into an inner abyss, even if that something is sharp and dangerous around the edges like a structure fire.

"Were...the uh, 'they' going to kill you?"

[Lukas] "Milo will hear about it." He answers Caleb roundabout, "The gun seems to belong to a particularly troublesome kinsman of Thunder."

As for healing, "If you don't mind the gnosis, she might appreciate it. Otherwise, I have a sizeable stash of healing talens our previous healer-theurge left us."

No further comment is made on Katherine. Not whether or not she's going to flip. Not whether or not Lukas has seen her since the beginning of the goddamn month, if even that recently. Nothing at all: this is Lukas closing ranks.

And moving on.

"By the way, Rhya," to Hatchet now, "you have a new kinswoman in town. I should have told you earlier, but it slipped my mind entirely. Her name's Liadan, and I don't think she knows much about the Nation. If you give me twenty-four hours I'll get you a phone number."

A pause.

"She's rooming with a kin of mine who doesn't take well to strange Garou barging into her home." An apologetic sort of shrug. "Otherwise I'd give you her home address."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Sam leaned in a little further past the shower curtain, running the risk of wetting the shoulders of his shirt with the spray of water that splashed off her body and into the air. She looked at him, studied his face and everything that it offered, earnest concern and horrible Rage alike, then half-nodded her head. Content, finally, with the scrubdown, she turned to wash her hair next. Halfway through, as she was rinsing pink-tinged shampoo from her hair (note a tiny chunk of bone was now stuck in the drain, along with sludging pink-gray goop that wouldn't go down on its own accord either), she responded verbally.

"I think. They wanted to kill Jackie, they were after him, I was just there. I don't know... They... He only shot at me after I shot at him..." She swallowed hard, pausing as this thought swept over her, the fact that they may not have been trying to harm her after all, then slowly, with trembling hands, reaching out to condition her hair next. "They might have let me be. It was them or him."

[Hatchet] Rhya, Lukas says, getting Hatchet's attention again. He's pondering, which he does with his fingernails in his beard and his forehead furrowed and his thoughts nowhere near the common room. His eyes snap over, though, and then he hears news that is almost as disturbing as the sight of Gabriella blood-drenched and very nearly going into shock. He has a new kinswoman in town.

He winces again, as though this causes him the sort of pain he'd get if Lukas were poking him in the ribs with a pointed stick. He doesn't open his mouth to bitch and moan, give him some credit, but ohh, how obvious it is that he would rather not deal with one of them. 'Particularly troublesome' seems, in his mind, to describe every Kinfolk, of any Tribe, of either gender, ever.

"If it slips your mind entirely again I will not cross you off my Christmas card list," Hatchet mutters, and leans back in the couch, stretching his arms out and then lacing his fingers behind his head. "Thanks," he adds, not as an afterthought; there's sincerity there, if not the gushing sort.

[Sam Modine] "Hey."

Resolute, there's suddenly very little in the way of give to his voice. His expression goes stony serious and holds there as he stands up just inside the curtain, heedless of the water spraying his shirt and soaking slowly through while he talks. "You did right." He catches her eyes and stays tehre, not touching her physically but it would seem there's no closer than staying frozen in another's eyes like his are now. "It was kill or be dead and you're still alive. Now-" He pauses, shakes his head, the Rage bristling as the worry subsides. Whoever had done this, had made her do this is now creeping toward the top of a very unsavory list.

"-I know it's hard. It feels awful right now. You've never killed anybody before." He nods. "But you gotta be strong, you gotta know things would be a whole lot worse if." He softens some, reaches one bony hand up under her chin to lift it toward his face. "If something happened to you..." His forehead rests on hers for just a second before his lips leave just a peck there and he gives her another step's space.

"Should I...?" his thumb jerks back toward the bathroom. He doesn't finish the question though, unsure it seems of what she's have him do and too worried or angry and not least of all confused to continue asking.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] "Indeed?" he said, more of a rhetoric question than anything in regards to the gun yet again. Still Caleb eyed it curiously; how had a Shadow Lord's pistol come to be in the possession of Gabriella? Curiouser and curiouser this whole thing was becoming, from a theurge point of view. Then again, the last thing they all needed was the mob poking their noses into the Garou Nation. Likely some were Kinfolk, many more than likely not. Organized crime factions were powerful, but it was doubtful that they could compare with the full might of Gaia's chosen warriors.

"Certainly," Caleb said. "Save the talens. There may be a night when I or Mrena aren't around. You may have more serious need of them in times to come." No more word about Katherine, and the theurge let it lay. As he wasn't a part of the pack as yet, it truly wasn't his business. Katherine and Edward were adults - if they needed his help, he would give aid, but whatever nonsense they were in he certainly would not stick his head as well.

[Gabriella Bellamonte] The creamy not-quite-a-foam of conditioner was being rinsed from her hair when Sam moved to stand completely inside the shower curtain, still out of the direct spray of the shower curtain but inside the shower nonetheless, which meant he was getting a lot wetter a lot faster than previously. She worked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and back of her throat, perhaps to discourage her stomach from attempting to empty itself again-- it had nothing left to give, you know-- and listened to Sam while he spoke. Precise words were lost, but the idea was grasped just fine-- Kill or be killed, you did nothing wrong.

Then his fingers curled under her chin and tipped it up. Genuine concern and relief touched his voice now, and he leaned down to press his forhead to hers, putting his head under the flow of water and dousing himself in doing so. He didn't seem bothered by that, though, and Gabbie hardly noticed. She just closed her eyes and nodded against his head, though what she was nodding to exactly was hard to say. Then his lips brushed where his forhead was a moment ago and he stepped back, asking if he should leave.

She watched him ponderously for a moment, then nodded, speaking weakly. "I'll be soon behind."

[Sam Modine] "Okay." Sam nods quickly using that same thumb to indicate his meaning once more before taking his leave. "I left you one of my sweatshirts and a pair of Mrena's jeans on the sink." Sam allows a half smile to fall crooked on his face in a half tried reassurance that he knows won't seem anything but patronizing but that he has to give anyway. WIth that though he's turning and leaving the stall, one hand whipping back long blonde hairs that have picked up water and stuck to his face and sweeping them from sticking to his cheeks.

"She's finishing up, it seems like she's calming down." It's the first thing the other three men hear as the Get's tall form strides back toward the common room, nose twitching twice and head catching sight of the lamb when he does.

"Guys." He nods at the two non-packmates fianlly in something not quite a hello as if only just realizing either were there.

"What the fuck was she doing with a gun?" His arms cross over his chest as he leans on the frame of the doorway, for the first time his frustration allowing itself to come forth like a stream vent on his Rage. "I'm going to find whoever gave her that and shove it in a very uncomfortable place."

[Hatchet] His eyes are going to the doorway a split second before Sam enters the common room again. It isn't the awareness of a packmate but the ears of someone more than human that tells him the Fenrir is coming back. He doesn't lower his arms, but a sudden tension flickers through his form, neither anger nor startlement but readiness. Sam speaks, and Hatchet cocks his head to the side.

"...What do you think would have happened if she hadn't had the gun, Sam?" he asks, sounding as curious as a ten year old.

[Lukas] "I won't forget again," he replies to Hatchet, wry. "Sorry for shattering your hopes."

And Caleb agrees to heal Gabbie. And Lukas is about to thank him when Sam returns. And Lukas says instead, to Sam, "Caleb just offered to heal her when she's finished. When she's feeling up to it, you might want to ask her the whole story.

"The gun belongs to a Shadow Lord kinsman. A bit of an ass, but he's Milo's business now. So bring your grievances to him before you shove anything up any orifices."

And Lukas gets to his feet, heading for the phone again.

"Which reminds me. I have to call Maevsky's ass too."

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] Caleb merely nodded his head when Lukas told the Fenrir that the theurge offered to heal the young woman. As he watched on, he became silent, watching Sam's movements and reactions. The man is either acting like a lover out for revenge, or an over-protective brother out for the same. Lips quirking in a half-smile, age-old words floated uncontrolled into his mind.

Hate leads to fear. Fear leads to jealousy, and that leads to... the Dark Side.

Perhaps, Caleb thought, that this is a good showing of the differences between Kinfolk and Garou. This, presumably, was Gabriella's first fight - her first battle, and she had took a life and came out on top relatively unscathed. She was frightened, mortified at her own actions, and rightfully so. Kinfolk were still human, if only just. Garou had a detached attitude about killing as they are surrounded by it. To take the life of another is no small thing, but to them it comes easier. Ahroun, if any, know this well. That is to say that Caleb isn't expecting the young Silver Fang princess to begin behaving as an ahroun searching for battle at every turn.

"She is alive," Caleb said. "That is what counts. She is alive, and has won her first battle."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] The pipes groan quietly when the water supply was cut off in the bathroom. Gabriella peeled back the shower curtain and dropped her eyes to watch her step, to watch the small ledge seperating shower from the rest of the room, and make sure she didn't stub her toe. What her eyes jumped to against her mind's wishes was the cluster of items that didn't go down the drain-- some hunks of flesh, brain, and that dull white chip of bone.

That tipped it. Wet feet slipped and slided over tiled floor as she darted to the nearest toilet stall and heaved nothing but a tiny bit of clear stomach fluid into the bowl. That made three times, she hadn't vomitted that much in one night since she'd come down with the worst stomach flu in the history of existance when she was fourteen. That's precisely what she would have told you the disease was if you had asked her then.

The toilet flushed, she found the towel Sam had brought over and dried herself with it, then dressed herself in Mrena's jeans (they really were almost precisely the same size, though Gabbie might be just a touch broader at the hips), and Sam's massive hoodie, which would fall to her knees, and she'd have to push the sleeves up so she could rinse her mouth in the sink. The sleeves would fall back over her hands the instant she dropped her wrists lower than parallel to the floor, though, and she didn't fight that.

A half-glare was cast to her bloodied clothes, and with one toe she slid them under a sink before padding barefooted out to the commonroom. She seems to have forgotten about her grazed bullet wound again, now that fingers weren't poking it and soap wasn't stinging it.

[Sam Modine] "I....she'd have..." He grits his teeth inside of pursed lips at the red-haired Fostern, narrowing his eyes some. "Shut up."

Caleb gets the same expression as the Modi finds less and less funny about this. "I forgot that's a Full Moon in there washing a man's skull out of her hair and not a ...." He swallows and gathers himself breathing out slow and heavy in a way he'd never have been able to four days prior.

He crosses and takes a seat on the corner of the sectional and props his elbows on his knees running his hands together against one another and scraping fingers through his hair along his scalp alternately until Gabriella returns.

[Hatchet] His coppery-gold eyebrows hop up on his face without amusement as he is told to Shut up by a Cliath. A Cliath who is not in his pack, or of his Tribe. A fucking blind Fenrir who doesn't know that she --

Hatchet, showing more restraint than just about anyone in this room would consider him capable of, bites his damned tongue. He still has his fingers laced behind his head, arms akimbo, and follows Sam across the room with steady eyes. When Sam sits, Hatchet flicks a glance at Lukas, but it communicates nothing, as the Shadow Lord is very likely still in the process of calling Fell Prayer.

He unwinds his hands and lowers them to his lap, looking over at the door as small, naked feet bearing a weight far less than Sam's or Lukas's or his own carry their owner this direction.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] ( brb! Skip me! )

[Lukas] Lukas is, indeed, on the phone with Milo now, his voice low. Or Milo's voicemail. It doesn't stop him from turning at the shut up and shooting Sam a brief stare.

Hatchet had the good grace to admit when you out-fought him. Have the same to admit when he out-argues you, Sam. Particularly when he outranks you as well.

He turns back to the wall, slinging his forearm over the base set while he finishes up his call.

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Gabriella was a little on the petite side, a few inches shorter than the average woman, but nothing so drastic that she could really be called tiny-- unless you were comparing her to the very tall, like Sam for one. But if anything made her look 'tiny', it would be wearing a sweater that dropped to your knees and whose sleeves fell over and hid your hands. Gabbie's hair was still quite wet and lay in curling tendrils down her back, leaving a nice wet splotch on the sweater. The cuffs of jeans that were better worn with a two inch heel or rolled up at least once dragged some on the floor when she walked out into the common room, glanced at those gathered-- a simple look for Lukas, a blank one for Caleb, a complex one for Oscar and a clouded, exhausted one for Sam.

Then, wordless, hugging her arms loosely across her chest (so as not to aggrivate her left bicep) and sliding her bare feet over the carpet to take her to the recliner in the corner, set up near the pool table. This is where she folded herself to sit, drawing chilled naked toes up under herself to warm them.

[Sam Modine] Lukas, as generally has been the case of late; is ignored.

Instead his gaze turns up to Gabbie as she makes her way back into the room and curls up. "Hey," he begins slowly, sitting up in the chair and letting his hands sit in his lap again. "Caleb is going to fix that spot on your arms for you." There's something of a sour look as he says this aloud. He hadn't been exaggerating when he'd told her the wound was inconsequential before.

"While he's doing that, could you tell us what happened?"

[Lukas] "...might want to get it straight from our friend Jack."

And on that note Lukas takes the phone from his ear. This time he pushes the TALK button on the handset to kill the connection before slipping the phone gently back into its cradle.

Then he turns around.

"Sam." Quiet, this, but with a certain note in it that would best not be ignored. Again. "Gabriella is kin to some of the greatest heroes of the Nation. She won't fall apart just because she's been shot and shot someone."

Nor does your concern for her give you the right to disrespect your elders. The transition to totemvoice is seamless. Apologize to Hatchet-rhya.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] ( Back! )

[Hatchet] The look Gabbie gives him as she's walking into and across the common room is...complicated. Hatchet's is merely inscrutable. He could be indifferent, except for the fact that his eyes follow her until she curls up on the recliner and is secured there, cold toes and all. He seems...languid, the tension that ran through him earlier gone now, or controlled to the point that his shoulders are rounded, his hands loose, his spine lazy.

He doesn't stare at her while she sits over there, questioned on what happened, nor does he leave. He stares at the gun on the coffee table as though mulling its very existence over in his mind.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] When Gabriella had entered and found herself a seat, curled up on the recliner, and sat quietly the theurge flicked a glance from the other males to the girl. He had no need to rebuke Sam, for Lukas had done it for him. She was the daughter of kings, and as such she was bred from a tougher lot than some would imagine. After all, she shared blood with Caleb's own House Gleaming Eye. It could be supposed that aside from Edward and Katherine, Caleb was her next closest of blood-kin in Chicago.

Still, Caleb's eyes had rested on Gabriella. "Would you like me to heal that, petite?" he asked the girl, ignoring the others for the present and nodding towards the arm she was so ginger with. "I'm sure it would make you feel a touch better." Physically, at least. Mentally was something all-together different.

[Sam Modine] ((Skip me, I got nothin'))

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Sam asked for the story.
Lukas insisted that her name made her constitutionally resilient to trauma.
Hatchet watched her.
Caleb offered to heal her arm.

Gabriella just sat quietly, eyes focusing on Sam when he asked her to recount the story. She shook her head faintly, and glanced to the side of Hatchet's face-- he seemed mighty invested in that gun that linked her to the crime scene. Then she looked to Caleb when the offer was made, and she shook her head again, swallowing against a repeatedly emptied stomach before she spoke out loud. "No."

Then, a glance back to Lukas. For some godforsaken reason, she was more comfortable asking him this question than anyone else-- he was her siblings' keeper in her mind. "...Why weren't Kate and Edward home, Lukas? Why aren't they here?"

[Lukas] (yo cody, i need an answer -- is Sam ignoring Lukas again?)

[Gabriella Bellamonte] (( I'm crashing fast, need to hit the sack soon. ))

[Sam Modine] ((you and me both))

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] When Gabbie refused his aid, it made him smile. Not out of amusement, but more out of... pride, perhaps, was the closest word to the expression across his face. Constitutionally resilient indeed. The mug of spiced wine was raised to her and he took a swallow of it, nodding. "As you wish, Miss Bellamonte."

Caleb fell silent.

[Caleb Delacourt-Alden] ( Yeah. )

[Gabriella Bellamonte] (( Night! ))

[Hatchet] Hatchet rises. Out of nowhere, while Caleb is offering to heal Gabriella and Gabriella is turning him down. He strides over to the recliner, bends over, and murmurs something in Gabbie's ear. As he straightens again, his hand comes down and his fingertips briefly, almost thoughtlessly massage her scalp. When he walks out of the common room again, he doesn't give another glance to any of the Circle members...or prospectives.

Or the gun.

[Lukas] There's a short silence. Lukas exhales briefly.

He answers Gabbie first. "I don't know, Gabriella," he says, gently, or as gently as this news can be imparted. "I'm trying to find out."

Hatchet leaves abruptly. Lukas speaks to Caleb next: very level, quite polite. "Darkensky-yuf, would you take Gabbie downstairs, please?"

And after that, he watches Sam steadily.