unless your tribe compels you otherwise.

[Shepherd] It hasn't been all that long since anyone last saw him here. The moon hasn't even made its way through a full cycle, showing the extent of her mischievousness, and he's back already, his reason for coming here in the first place as yet unfulfilled.

That Uktena hadn't told her Alpha that he's back, or she told him and something happened, or she told him and he doesn't give two snorts, and either way he isn't going to be spending too much time trying to track down someone who's just going to keep lying to him anyway. What she said was right, though. Ryan can do what the rest of them do and track the Gang's leader down on his own.

So here he is, dressed as though he hasn't known rest or sustenance for days and miles, dusty and sweaty and carrying a duffel bag with him. He's dressed like he's come straight from the state that's responsible for the way he talks, in cowboy boots and Levi's and a plaid work shirt, leather cowboy hat upon his head, and once he makes his way through the kitchen he pops out into the dining room to check and make sure he isn't hanging out on the first floor before he makes the trip up to the dormitory floor.

He stands looking around too long and gets bumped in the backside by the swinging door. A step forward, and he heaves a breath out of his thin chest before walking to the bar. Danny recognizes him from a long time ago. How couldn't he, the way he was carrying on?

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Last night Gabbie had crashed upstairs in one of the vacant rooms. Then she'd left this morning for school. This was the last week, it was nothing but finals. Thank God her Monday class required a final paper rather than an exam. That was finished, she was able to email it in before the day was through. So turned in another paper today and took an exam, went out with the one student that also attended De Paul who she could consider an actual friend, and they had dinner. The night wound to an early end, said friend was a chronic procrastinater and had to finish an essay due tomorrow morning.

So Gabriella pulled her car into the Brotherhood's parking lot around a quarter to eight in the evening and entered, as was becoming custom, through the kitchen door. She considered the backseat of her car as a locker, so she didn't need to carry any bags or books in with her. She came in with her purse over her shoulder and nothing else, and lifted a hand to offer a wave to anyone/everyone that was currently working the kitchen before moving to a fridge, be it walk-in or standing.

Fruit sounded awful good right now.

[Maija] Sometimes, she just wants to get away, to be alone - yet not - to be forgotten - but not. It's not to say she doesn't love living with Will, having a warm bed and all the books she can read, and a kitchen to cook in. She does. It's just that.. well, she can't hide out in his home forever, right?

Thus, for the past hour, or two - maybe even three, she's been sitting sideways in a corner booth, with her back pressed against the wall, her beat to hell boots on the seat beside her. Even as warm as it is in here, she has that same old hoodie on, with the hood up and pulled low over her face, hiding her features from the rest of the room. Her jeans are threadbare, and oft repaired - though threatening to bust through the patches at her knees again.

On the table is a soda, half dunk, and a plate of cheese fries, half eaten. She's not quite as starving as normal - part of those "with benefits" of the friendship with William. The other benefits will go unmentioned, as not only is he a decade older then she, she's also under age.

Tsk.

Her journal is open on her knees, and she idly sketches while she works her way through that plate of fries, one at a time.

It's the bootsteps that get her attention, moving toward the bar. There's a glance, and then a double take, and somewhere hidden in shadow there's the ghost of a smile that appears and flits away again. "...Ryan?"

[Lukas] Lukas is coming down the stairs around the time everyone else is making their way into the Brotherhood in one form or another.

He's dressed to go out -- not the soft pajama bottoms and strictly-optional undershirts he wears around the Brotherhood, but nice clothes, sharp and well-tailored, expensively casual with an urban edge. His hair is wet and he's doing up the buttons of his shirt, which is striped dark and pale blue, deliberately rumpled. His feet are still bare in his shoes, the socks hanging out of his shirt pocket.

"Got any more of those lamb kebabs, Jennifer?" He finishes with the buttons, rolls the sleeves up to his elbows. "I'll take a plate by the fire. Couscous on the side if you have any. And ... maybe some of that mediterranean salad. Thanks."

The swinging door admits him to the dining room, which is seeing pretty good business on a Friday night. Lukas is glad to see the wingback chairs are, for the moment, deserted -- though there are dirty plates piled on the side table near them. He clears the plates away, transferring them to an empty table instead, and takes a seat, kicking his shoes off to put his socks on. His bare feet are big and bony, and after his socks are on he leaves them out of his shoes for a while, stretched toward he fireplace, soaking up the warmth.

[Shepherd] Were it not for the fact that the girl calls his name across the scantily-populated bar he likely would have walked right past her. Stalked right past her. Either way he is looking past anyone who is not a tall, scruffy blond male, and so few of the males in this establishment meet the first two requirements. When he realizes that the one he's come in through the back door to find isn't out in the open he decides that he's going to have himself a shot of bourbon before heading upstairs, and that's when.

... Ryan?

Looking over he finds a girl who is far better fed, far better groomed than the hitchhiking, near-mute girl he had picked up on the side of the road that hot, dusty day last year. His young--the man had never given his age but he didn't look too much older than Maija, if one were willing to ignore his height--brow bunches up with bewilderment, and his posture tightens up almost as if he were startled.

"Maija?" he counters, somehow making the simple two-syllable name sound longer, his Texan twang sounding out without apology. Once the shock wears off he blinks and moves further forward, coming to stand by her booth and removing the hat from his head. "Ain't thought I were gonna see you 'gain, miss, what're you doin' up this way?"

The way he winces, he's got to know how he sounds to the educated Yankees sitting around him.

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Gabbie had been hidden by the fridge door when Lukas breezed through the kitchen. Or at least that's what she told herself, excusing him not even bothering to acknowledge her with ignorance of her presence. One way or the other, though, when she straightened up with an orange in hand, Lukas's well dressed self was walking out the swinging door and not looking back.

Huffing a little to herself, she fetched a bowl and moved out into the dining area from the kitchen as well. The weather was very warm and humid out, despite the overcast skies and constant threat of rain, so she had dressed for that by wearing a pair of denim capris, white sandals with a tall cork heel, and a white halter top with a clunky necklace with gold, turquoise, and coral colored trinkets and gems handing off it.

Not much of a look-around was made. She knew where Lukas had his favored areas to sit-- either in that 'claimed' chair upstairs, or that certain spot on the sectional, or in the very wingback chair in front of the fireplace that he was settling into now. She made a beeline for the fireplace, and without bothering to ask if she could sit, she came to sit in the chair beside Lukas's. Her feet slipped out of her sandals so she could cross her legs indian-style, set the bowl in her lap, and start peeling the orange into it.

No 'hello' or similar greeting was offered. Rather, she jumped right to the punchline. "Have you figured out what's going on with Ed and Kate yet?"

[Maija] She's better fed, but still - for the most part - mute. She ain't talk to many folks even now. Will has to practically pry things out of her, and when she does speak she doesn't give away anything, not anything that could be used against her. Not if she can help it, anyway.

For the first time in the Brotherhood since she's been coming here, she actually reaches up to tug that hoodie back a little bit, to let Ryan see that it is, indeed, her. Still painfully thin, for all the carbs and fat she's currently shoving down her throat, still with expressions sliding across ehr face so quickly it's almost impossible to catch before they fade away again. Her hair is shorter now - cut due to the impossible tangling hitch-hiking cause, but the important things... the things that make her Maija, are all still there.

Including the little smirk that tugs at the corner of her lips at his question. What is she doin up here? "Followin' you." A bony shoulder lifts in a shrug as she waves toward the empty half of the booth in invite. "Seen ya a few months back a ways from here. Since I was comin north anyway, thought I might follow a familiar face. Seem'd t'thing to do at th'time."

There's a wealth of story behind those few words, but ain't none of it told. Not outright and upfront, anyway.

[Shepherd] Even the slightest indication that his presence isn't an imposition seems to be as large of a surprise as her remembering and calling his name had been in the first place. His eyebrows lift, once, quickly, and then he carefully tosses the short duffel bag--the same one that she had seen when their paths had first crossed in Oregon, only with the nylon worn, the handles fraying--onto the seat before dropping his hat with a crumpling plop on top of what's left of his life.

There isn't any indication of what has brought him back to Chicago, what he's doing in this particular place. There's no reason for him not to be here. This is where the Garou go for warm beds, warm showers and warm food. Sometimes there are alcohol and carnal relations to be had, but for the most part this is just a place to recuperate from the horrors of war and get back on the road again.

Something in Ryan's eyes is an indication that while the war is still out there waiting for him he isn't going to be hitting the road for some time.

"It's real good to see you," he drawls, with honesty in his tone, as he thunks his forearms on the table. The sleeves of his work shirt have been rolled up to his ashy elbows, and his forearms are left bare, tanned and roped with thick veins. "Where're you stayin'?"

[Lukas] Gabriella appears, and whether or not Lukas had blown by her on purpose, the Ahroun seems faintly surprised to see her settling into the chair across from him.

The wingback chairs are enormous, large enough that even Lukas's six-four, vast-shouldered frame is comfortably ensconced within. Coming from behind, all anyone would see of him are his legs and a forearm, a hand on the scrolled arm of the chair. Gabbie, much smaller and slighter, can easily curl up and disappear into it.

Which is nearly what she does, lifting her legs up to sit crosslegged with her orange and her bowl.

She jumps right into it, but Lukas looks at her a moment, possibly bemused, possibly startled. Then he smiles faintly. "Hey, Gabbie. You're underfoot again." The smile doesn't last long; it drops off his face soon thereafter. "The Talons of Horus spoke of some sort of extended emergency quest in the Umbra. I don't have a lot of details, and I get the feeling that the less we know about it, the better. Kate, Ed and Dylan have all been recruited to the cause. They're fine, and together -- but they may be gone for some time."

[Maija] He sits, and she closes her journal - the same one he's seen her sketch in before, when she's not doodling on napkins or her jeans, or whatever strikes her current fancy - and slides it aside to take a spot on top of the book that's off to the corner as well, in case she decided to take a break. She doesn't turn in her seat though, sitting sideways has it's purpose - like seeing who enters from the kitchen, as well as the front door. Keeping track of who is where, and what her options of escape are.

The more things change...

"You too." is what she says, and then she shrugs a shoulder idly. "Was stayin' here for a while, fella named Decker sent me this way. Then met a friend - stayin w' him in th'Green for now."

She doesn't say how uncomfortable it was for her upstairs, or even how often she sat here in this booth huddled and hoping no one would see her, while she sketched various faces that came across her path. "Things went bad in Florida while back. So was movin this way steady - random coin toss o'direction, ya know - when I saw ya rig." A pause. "How ya been?"

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Lukas told her she was underfoot, and she managed a faint grin in return to his smile. However, when his smile drifted away, hers did precisely the same. Fingers pulled away the rind of the orange with no trouble, and while most would be content with that Gabbie was being a little more finicky by peeling away most of the white clinging to the fruit leftover from the inside of the rind. That or she just needed something more to keep her fingers preoccupied for just a little while longer.

He mentioned a spirit, the pack spirit as far as she was aware, and that her siblings were 'somewhere in the Umbra'. ...Well isn't that dandy? That was about as informative as saying that they were somewhere in space. That could be anywhere, she sure as hell didn't know how big the Umbra was, but she suspected it was much larger than the planet Earth. Honestly, she didn't think many Garou knew how big the Umbra was.

But she'd nod all the same and, after a few moments of silence, pull the orange in half and hold one half out to offer it to the Ahroun. "Who'd the leave as my babysitter? Or did they not specify?"

[Lukas] Lukas takes the half an orange, eating it slice by slice.

"They didn't have time to specify anything," he says. "They had to leave immediately. We -- the pack -- didn't even know until I asked the totem personally."

A pause; Lukas has a sister, but she's nearly two years older, and he's never had to take care of her in any way. How does one take care of a sister? He hunts in his mind, remembers idle comments about school, lessons; realizes he doesn't even know if Gabriella is in college or high school.

"Are you still staying ... at the loft?"

[Shepherd] "Honest?"

He's lost weight since the last time she saw him. Not enough to be worth stirring up a fuss over, but enough that it's noticeable--his face is thinner, his clothes don't fit his rangy body as well, and he seems more like a terrifying modern day Marlboro Man than a prepubescent ranch hand now. He hasn't been taking care of himself recently, and it's likely he would just keep his mouth shut were it not for the fact that she asked, and he hasn't got any reason to lie.

"I done quit the trucking gig so I could stay up here permanent. Got a friend here what said he was gonna help me out, get me settled an' all but I'm runnin' into a spot'a trouble tryin'a track him down."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Lukas wouldn't know if she was in high school or college. He probably wasn't certain of her age, she may be nineteen by now for all he knew, it was doubtful he had a pinpoint on her birthday. On top of that, he slept through the day and lived somewhere seperate so he had no real grounds on which to keep track of how long she was gone every day or when she left in the mornings. Which was fine, 'how's school?' is a cop out question if there ever was one. A sure fire way to walk into a brick wall of a conversation ender. How's school? Fine. End story.

Rather, he asked a question that was a little more significant, of course after adding that she wasn't left with a proper guardian, which made a part of her all kinds of happy inside. She hid this well, though, primarily because there was too much weight in her mind and heart at the moment to be estatic about something that trivial. Rather, she lifted her eyebrows at his question, pulled a slice apart from her half of the orange, and ate it.

"I was, yes, but it's very large, very empty, and very quiet. Depressing to stay there, particularly when I know that my siblings are all but lost to the rest of you. So, for now, I'd rather stay here." Another slice was consumed. "Company's precisely what I feel I need right now, not a summer spent cooped up and alone."

[Maija] "An' here I was hopin for a road trip." The brief flitter of a smirk across her lips let's him know she's teasin' even as it disappears again almost as fast as it arrived. She pushes back her hair, and tugs the hood down a bit almost in the same motion. not so much as to block her face from him, but from the rest of the room. Old habits die hard, and in this town ain't no one but two what seen her face bare - cept he makes three.

"Some chick here paid for me to sit for her - like i'm some interestin subject or some shit - she saw ya face in my journal, an said she knowed ya. Ain't run into anyone else - but then again, I ain't much for friendly banter most days."

There's a glance toward the shadowlord in the wingback chair, then her attention falls on Ryan fully again.

[Lukas] The Ahroun smiles; not one of his slight, polite smiles but the real deal, the sort that spreads slowly over his face and, if only for a moment, softens his cold blue eyes.

"Good. I was going to ask if you wanted to do that. It'll be easier for us to watch out for you, and we'll be around if you need anything." A moment's thought. "I think you can probably take over Dylan's bunk while she's gone. Or if you'd prefer a room to yourself, I think there are empty ones available.

"How are you doing for money? Are you in college yet?"

[Shepherd] When they had first met up last year Ryan hadn't been particularly stricken by the near skittishness of this young woman. She was the same age he had been when his parents decided they couldn't handle him anymore and shipped him off to the Gulf, and unlike other girls her age who did not have the Rage within them themselves, she was not bothered by what was so palpable in him. It was hard for him to go into places populated by humans because his presence was intolerable for many people; yet she had been able to fall asleep in the passenger seat of the cab of the rig.

That had been one of many clues that day of who and what she was, what her role in the war was.

As she explains what she's been doing to keep busy since arriving in the city he finds her falling back into old habits that weren't all that surprising once he talked to Delia about them. The girl was running from something. She was being vigilant. That was something all of them would do well to be.

So when Maija looks over towards the unlit fireplace, he turns around and catches sight of the back of a pair of heads that he cannot recognize from this distance.

"Yeah," he agrees, somehow managing to pronounce each syllable, as he turns back around. "Who's this lady says she knows me?"

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Lukas's smiles, the real ones that melted his eyes from chips of ice to pools of crystal blue, were infectious. Gabbie blinked at him once, and couldn't help but smile back in return. Her smiles usually were real, so there was nothing unordinary about how it covered all of her face rather than just staying central on her lips.

"There's an empty one that I'm using for now. I think I'll just stay there, in case Dylan comes back just as unexpectedly as she vanished and wants her bed back." Hey, if it could happen with Dylan it could happen with her brother and sister, right? She could hope. Nay, she needed to hope. She would hang onto this notion, and try and rely on the Umbra's unexpectedness rather than be fearful of it.

Then, two dinnertable questions. The kind that older relatives asked their nephews and nieces when they ran out of things to talk about and needed to kill the silence. She smirked just a little at him in reply, popped an orange slice in her mouth, then answered verbally. "Our family fund will be fine for quite a time to come, I'm hardly concerned about money. And it's actually final's week right now, Lukas. I took my math exam this afternoon." Finals. Exams. These were college terms. Christ, a whole year already?

[Maija] She'd been able to sleep next to him, holed up in the corner of his cab, while the radio played hour after hour of Hair Band Mania. Part of it was being so damn exhausted she couldn't possibly stay awake another minute. Part of it was that even though she recognized the rage in him - it wasn't a man with rage at all what had her on the run.

He never asked for details.
He gave up his shampoo.
He didn't make her feel like a bitch for wanting to pay her way when she could.
He gave a shit.
That was enough to gain her trust.

"Name's Mrena." The terse way her name falls into the air between them tells a story in and of itself - she's don't trust her, she isn't exactly keen on the arrangement, but it was money and beggers can't be choosers. She then lifts her chin toward Lucas. "He hangs w'her from what I kin tell."

[Lukas] They're dinnertable questions -- only Lukas seems to actually care about the answers. She says she's doing fine for money and Lukas interjects, "I ask because if you're not staying at the loft anyway, you might considering renting it out to supplement your income.

"If I understand correctly the 'family fund' has something to do with this dreaded uncle of yours. He might sit up and take notice if you start withdrawing more from the fund than he expects, and he might not approve of you running around Chicago without family supervision."

She tells him about exams and finals, and Lukas frowns at her. "Are you in college already?"

[Gabriella Bellamonte] She nods thoughtfully when he suggests renting out the Loft. It was something to consider, but that would require moving Katherine and Ed's personal effects and finding a place for them, not to mention their entire extensive closets (Katherine's in particular). She'd think about it. But when he spoke of her withdrawing more funds than her uncle expected (and thank god Lukas understood that he was dreaded by her, even though Katherine revered Lucien so much), she lifted her eyebrows in surprise, then dropped one and left the other arched high in question with a splash of attitude.

"Yes, I came out here to start the fall semester at the De Paul University of Art. ....Lukas, why do you think my spending habits would change?"

[Shepherd] Ryan turns around again, and he has no better view of the man's face, although the fact that she grants the name 'Mrena' and indicates that the man in question is in his pack narrows it down a bit.

"I ain't know much about 'em," he confesses, turning back around. "Mrena helped me out oncet, though. Got hurt real bad when I weren't expectin' it and she and this other fella in their group got me on my feet again. Reckon I owe 'er one."

An uncouth clearing of a frog in his throat, and he continues.

"Fella I'm looking for is with the other group out this way. Them's what aren't with us call him Oscar Taggart. Rest'a us call him Buried Hatchet. Or jes' Hatchet. If you met him once you'd remember him."

[Lukas] "Art school," Lukas says, and he sounds pleasantly surprised by this. "Why are you taking math in art school?"

They're interrupted: Lukas's order has finally arrived. It's more of the lamb kebabs he enjoyed last night, couscous on the side, and a salad that he might just pick the cherry tomatoes off of and leave otherwise untouched.

He thanks the waitress, whomever it may have been, and as she departs, picks up a skewer of lamb before offering the plate the Gabbie.

"I always assumed your siblings were responsible for the day-to-day fees of your life. You know; the food bill, the cleaning bills, the laundry bill, the utilities. Now that they're away, you'll have to shoulder those yourself."

[Maija] "I jus' know she's a fuckin' lord." there's no missing the distaste she feels when she says it, but she shrugs it off with a lift of a bony shoulder, before she takes a sip of her forgotten soda. "She ain't done nuthin' unprofessional..." ...yet. She don't say it but 'yet' is definitely implied. Seems the little gnawer girl don't have the best of histories with those of the Tribe of Shadow.

She hasn't met anyone named Hatchet, but she's seen a few people around. She takes up her journal and flips through a few pages. There's one of Danny behind the bar, a couple of quick sketches of the waitresses, general people she's seen here, all on the same page, occupying all the nooks and crannies with a decidedly doodling feel. On the page opposite is a man playing a guitar, sitting in the wingback chair that currently holds Lucas. "these're most folks I done seen round here. Not much details t'go on, but..."

She shrugs, slightly, and slides the journal across the table to him.

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Gabbie chuckled a little at Lukas. "The De Paul University itself is quite large, and covers more than just one subject. So on the campus there is the De Paul University of Business, or the De Paul University of Literature, as well as my University of Art. We all are required general credits, though, before we can graduate. The math is a part of my general studies."

He offered the plate, and she looked at it thoughtfully, then nodded her thanks, popped the last slice of orange in her mouth, moved the bowl onto the table between the chairs, and accepted a kabob. Rater than eat the food directly on the stick, she'd pull it apart one piece at a time, starting with a still-hot vegetable that she'd pop into her mouth and chew behind a covered hand so she didn't burn her tongue and the roof of her mouth by chewing with closed lips.

From there, after swallowing, she waved a hand dismissively. "While that is true, he'd find out even if I didn't pick up these expenses. He and Katherine have frequent phone conversations. After a month of no contact from her he'll figure it out."

A moment of quiet passes with Gabriella staring into the fire. Then, quietly, without looking over at Lukas, she spoke. "I don't want to live with him, Lukas." She wasn't whining. She wasn't asking for him to find a way to stop it if it came around, pleading for him to come up with a way that it wouldn't have to be. She was just stating what she never bothered to hide.

[Lukas] Lukas frowns at Gabriella for a moment, the muscles in his lean cheek working as he chews a chunk of rare, seared lamb.

"Why does he have such power over you and your family, Gabbie?" The question is almost abrupt, and genuinely baffled. "He's kinfolk."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] This question got Gabriella to look away from the fire and over to Lukas. She observed his face, the muscle of his jaw working on the piece of meat he was chewing up, then his wet hair and nice attire. A part of her wanted to turn the topic on its head-- What are you all dressed up for anyways? But she knew Lukas better than that. He'd just look at her as flat as a snake's eyes and tell her to answer the question. You don't play games like that with Lukas.

And honestly? Tonight she didn't want to. He was, in the absence of her siblings, slowly shifting away from 'cousin' to 'surrogate brother' in her mind.

"Because he's ruthless." She popped some lamb into her mouth to eat before expanding on that. "When my father passed, Edward was too young to shoulder the responsibility of patriarch. In most opinions, mine included, he's still not mature enough to take on that responsibility and all it entails, including heading up Bell Textiles. Lucien is as smart as he is brutal. It came down to him and Edward when Daddy died, and that was all."

Simple as that.

[Shepherd] [Subterfuge+Manipulation: I Like Rolling Dice!!]

[Lukas] "All right," in a tone that says I'll allow that as a given, "but he's still kinfolk. And if Caleb says you can stay in Chicago, I don't see how he can prevent it."

He eats with a swift efficiency: politely, always chewing with his mouth shut, keeping his face and fingers clean, utilizing his napkin judiciously. Even so, there's something faintly unnerving -- savage -- about the way he pulls meat from the skewer, tears into his meal with such gusto.

"Though, he might cut off your funds, if he's feeling particularly uncharitable."

[Shepherd] Ryan's rough yet somehow artistic hands accept the journal as it is passed across the length of the lacquered tabletop, and he is careful not to smudge the pencil or the page with the dirt visible on his fingertips. His eyes, blue as the sky is supposed to be this weekend, train themselves on the pages, and even when he cannot immediately recognize the face or the profile of the subject on the page he does not flip past idly but instead stops to admire her work.

He'd seen her doodling on a napkin that first night they'd met. If it weren't for the fact that there're folk out there that can't afford to even travel the distance to finish high school he'd be wondering if she were going to be going to art school when she got to be old enough. That isn't even a dream he has for his own little girls. They're going to be warriors and mothers, and that's about it.

Unless she looks closer, she won't see much more than a flicker of pleased recognition on his stoic features.

"You got him," he says, fondly, before pushing the book back towards her. "That's who I'm looking for. If you see 'im can you tell him I'm looking for him?"

[Gabriella Bellamonte] "I wouldn't doubt that he would find a way, if he were particularly determined. From what I understand, I'm quite the bartering chip for alliances. If he finds an alliance he wants, he'll wrap me up like a pretty present to get it, and he'll fight Caleb cloak and dagger to get it done." He saw to it that Bleeds-the-Fray, his own brother, Fostern Ahroun, was out of his way. Surely Caleb would be no trouble for him.

As for money... Gabriella shrugged at that and took another bit of food off the kabob to eat. "While I do enjoy the luxuries of life, I don't need them. He can cut me off all he likes. He'd be doing me a favor to disown me."

[Maija] A brow arches, slightly, as his voice goes fond, and he looks pleased at her depiction of this Hatchet. She nods, slightly, and then... "Ya want it? I got one of you too, from before, if ya want it too."

Will keeps telling her that she needs to persue it, to do more than idly doodle and keep it all locked away in her journal, that people will play good money for her "doodles". She don't quite believe him, but figures that if she ever does become rich an' famous, those she likes enough to give their portraits too can sell em for millions an' live off the cash in some sort of long range repayment for helpin her when she ain't had no one at all.

"I think he stays upstairs with th'rest o'em. But yeah, I'll tell'im if i see'im again."

She studies him a long moment. "Ya look beat, dude. An' in need of a shower. Don't try'n stay awake for my sake. I pop round often enough, we ain't gotta do all our talkin tonight..."

[Lukas] "He won't disown you." Lukas has never been much of a comforter. He's one hell of a teller of brutal truths, though. "If you're a bargaining chip to him, he'll only cut you off to force you back to the nest."

A pause.

"He doesn't know about Sam, does he?"

[Gabriella Bellamonte] She chuckled, and the sound was a little harsh for a girl like her. Normally she was cheery, bubbly, earnest and full of cheer. Yet it never failed that when the topic turned to Lucien, she became bitter, and it wasn't very becoming of her. It was a little uncomfortable to experience Gabriella in such a mood. It certainly wasn't a recent development.

"I doubt it. If he did, I probably would have gotten a phone call warning me to 'halt my promiscuous ways' complete with an hour long lecture about how it's my God-given duty to continue the family line in mint condition."

As mint as a line of insane royalty could be.

[Lukas] Another man might've pitied her now, or told her pretty lies about how it'll be all right, Lucien won't force her to do anything she doesn't want to, she won't end up shackled in a loveless matehood to some up-and-coming Garou somewhere for the Good Of The Family.

If Lukas pities her, or feels sorry for her, it's hard enough to tell. His eyes are pale and clear as ever; they flicker over the girl, and then to the fire.

"If you don't think you can fight your uncle or escape his influence," he says, quietly, "then I think you should make the most of whatever freedom you have, for as long as you have it."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Gabbie had finished about half of the kabob before her fingers stopped pulling food from it. She glanced down at the lamb-and-vegetable stick, twisted it in her fingers a few times, then looked up and held it out to offer the rest to Lukas. She didn't have the appetite to finish it, she'd only gone out to dinner with Margaret some two hours earlier or so, and it'd be a shame for it to go to waste.

Besides, have you ever had a meal with a Garou? They're garbage disposals. It's always 'Are you gonna finish that?' this and 'Hey, can I have a bite?' that.

If he took it, great. If not it was balanced on top of the bowl of orange peelings, and a napkin was used to clean her fingers and the corners of her mouth before that, too, was tucked into the set-aside bowl.

"That's precisely what I'm attempting to do." Then, quietly. "Until I can figure out something better, anyways." She wanted to talk about it, really, but this wasn't something she could report to Lukas. She couldn't tell him that she entertained fantasies of escaping the entire Tribe and living a relatively more 'normal' life. Or, at the very least, the life of a Kinfolk that wasn't attatched to the Silver Fangs, able to chose or decline their own suitors. If these words went in Lukas's ear, then out of duty they would somehow, eventually, find their way into Katherine's.

She couldn't blame him too harshly for it, it was a part of pack obligation or something.

[Shepherd] When she asks if he wants it, Ryan looks as if she's just asked if he wants a trip to Mexico, or his own ranch in the Texas plains. Not the panhandle where it's dry and dusty and a body's as likely to be bitten by a rattler as he is by fortune but out where things grow and prosper. She saw plenty of photographs of his children on the visor of his truck, saw one woman to account for the darkest of the four of them, but there were none of the guitar-playing man.

He hadn't known him back then, but now that he does he still doesn't have any sort of pictorial reminder of what he looks like. Perhaps that's been for the better. It's been less to explain.

"I don't need one'a my ugly mug," he says. "If you don't mind partin' with the one'a Hatchet that'd be mighty kind of you."

That settled, she moves on to the obvious condition of his exhaustion, his hygiene, and their status as settled for the time being. Ryan doesn't smile or laugh or do anything so human as acknowledge that this young girl's right, that they don't need to stay up half the night further wearing him out when Gaia knows what he'll encounter in the morning, and so he nods and starts to stand.

"Thank you kindly," he says. "Maybe I'll see if'n I can't get a room'er somethin' upstairs, too. Beat stayin' in the woods, I reckon."

He doesn't say it, but it would also make it easier for her to find him if she needed to. So far as he can tell there ain't too much Trueborn Gnawers left in the city, and this William fella isn't going to be able to protect her much if he ain't one of them.

"You have a good night, miss," is his farewell. The last time, it had been 'Good luck.' He's the one walking away now, drawing in one hand, everything he couldn't bear to leave behind in Texas in the other.

[Maija] If she ain't mind, he says, and she grins a little as she looks down to carefully remove the portrait from her journal, and pass it to him. "If i minded, I wouldn'ta asked."

He lets her know he's gonna room here, and suddenly the Brotherhood don't seem to be so unfriendly anymore. She nods, slightly. "Does indeed. Night, Ryan."

She watches him go, and for the first time anyone could say so, she's almost... relaxed. Well, cept for when she's at home with Will and they're....

...reading. Yes. Reading.

Only after Ryan is gone does she turn her attention to the plate of now cold fries in front of her. Ain't bother her none that they's cold though - not judging by how she digs into them all over again.

[Shepherd] [HOLY SHIT LESSA AND I GOT A SCENE! *glomps and goes night*]

[Lukas] (LOL, night folks)

[Lukas] Until I can figure out something better.

Lukas studies her for a moment, as though something she'd said struck him awry, or strikes off something else, and something else, and something else -- a whole network of associations that leads to certain assumptions.

His eyes flick down as she offers the half-a-skewer back at him. He shakes his head, holding a hand up in a small, polite gesture of declination. He still has a plateful of them, and he's only put down two emptied skewers. After she sets her food down atop the orange peel, he shifts in his seat, sits slowly forward.

"Gabbie," he says, "you're not thinking of asking Sam to claim you so you can escape your tribe, are you?"

[Gabriella Bellamonte] He wouldn't need to study her too hard to figure out if she's lying or not. The way she looks at him when he asks her that would say it all. Her eyes go wide with surprise, her lips part just a little, and you can almost see her gears running over that possibility in her head. Obviously she hadn't even considered it.

That or she faked it very, very well.

After a few seconds, she blinked those wide earnest eyes, then shook her head. "Oh, no no no. Sam is..." She pauses, and hunts for the best way to explain herself. "...Sam is one of those that will head to his grave faster than others might. If I were to do that, I'd lose him less than a year into the relationship. Why would I do that to myself?"

[Lukas] "Did I say you wanted the relationship to last?" Wry, that. "I asked you if you saw that as a valid method of escape."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Gabbie studies Lukas's face for a few moments, then her face goes flat and her tone rather stern.

"I'm not like your brand of Kinfolk, Lukas. I wouldn't do that."

[Lukas] There's a flicker in the Ahroun's eyes. His face doesn't change nearly so perceptibly. After a beat, he reaches for another lamb skewer.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that." And then, "And what exactly is 'my' brand of kinfolk, Gabbie?"

[Gabriella Bellamonte] "Concerned with 'number one'," she responds as calmly and cooly as he, no doubt, asked the question, but without the barb of a baited hook underneath. If she knew better than touching into these waters with Lukas, it didn't show. She leaned back in the chair that was entirely too large for her, unfolded her legs, and stretched them out in front of her, wriggling toes whose nails had been painted a soft lilac color. He had food to keep his hands busy with, she didn't. So she took to toying with the long necklace hanging around her neck and resting on her chest.

"I wouldn't be content using others for my own means like that." A pause, then a thought, and a question that could be viewed as an attempt to change the subject if she wasn't truely curious about it. "...I heard you on the phone on Sunday night. You said Jackie's name. You know him?" Speaking of Lord kin...

[Lukas] "No." He cuts her off when she goes on to speak of phones and sunday nights and Jackie. "Let's go back for a minute."

He doesn't sound angry. He sounds -- controlled. And indisputable.

"Explain to me what you mean, exactly, by those remarks you just made."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Gabriella sighed a little bit and nodded, letting the necklace rest and instead getting comfortable in another way. Her legs folded up, both to one side, and she leaned her torso against the arm of the chair closer to Lukas, so she was facing him. Her arms folded on the arm and she leaned her weight into them.

"Just like everyone knows that we Silver Fangs are all mad and the Fianna all love to drink, we all know that Shadow Lords have maintained their positions of power by any and all means necessary, which leads them to a tendency to look out for themselves and their own and let everyone else be damned." She shrugged her bare and slightly freckled shoulders. "I adore Danicka, I do, but what she did with Sam I don't think I could bring myself to. I don't scorn her for it, it's not my business. I'm just saying that it's not my way.

"As for Jackie, I only brought him up because I figured that if you knew him, you would also like to know that he's in the hospital with five gunshot wounds in him."

[Lukas] The skewer of meat and peppers and onions hovers motionless in his hand. Laden as it is, awkwardly balances as it is, it doesn't quiver so much as a millimeter. So much as a micrometer.

His expression hasn't changed. His posture hasn't changed. But his eyes have changed -- subtly -- they've gained a sort of burn that wasn't there before.

A beat. Then, "Let me ask you something, Gabbie." The skewer turns a slow twist in his hand; then he sets it aside and leans forward until his elbows are balanced on his knees. "Who exactly has been telling you stories about Danička?"

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Gabbie lifted her hands and held them in front of her, palms facing Lukas, in the traditional 'hey, hey, I don't mean harm' signal. She shook her head some, then let them fall back onto the arm of the chair.

"This smells precisely how the conversation about 'what Hatchet did is bad' went. Just as what I heard of that story came from Hatchet's mouth, what I've heard here came from Sam's. But, again, I'm not taking sides, I'm just looking for core facts. They were together for a brief affair, Sam thought it was something more than it would be, and Danicka wasn't interested in that. It was, apparently, sternly sex. She went for you instead. I feel like I need to repeat myself in saying that I don't judge her, or anyone really, for what happened. I'm just saying that I couldn't do that."

[Lukas] A strap of muscle pulls tight in Lukas's cheek.

"Sam's been talking to you about this?"

[Gabriella Bellamonte] She shook her head, the gesture as slow and casual as it would be were she sitting in a classroom disagreeing with something another student said in open discussion. It wasn't the frantic head swinging of someone sparking flint over the dried grass of this particular Ahroun's Rage.

"This was a while ago. I had called him to get a ride, and when I got in the car I could tell he'd been hurt romantically. I asked him who broke his heart and he told me. He wears his emotions on his sleeve and can't lie to save his own mother's life. I pressed for the tale, alright?"

[Lukas] "When Sam tells a story," Lukas says flatly, and even if Gabbie had missed the discontent between the packmates the last two times she saw them, she can't possibly miss it now, "he'll always star as the hero and the victim both, and never the villain.

"Don't assume you know everything that happened, Gabriella. Don't assume you understand. And don't tell me 'my' brand of kinfolk is 'concerned with number one', particularly if you're going to try and claim that you aren't judging anyone. That disrespects me, and it disrespects my kin."

The Ahroun sits back in his chair, his brow faintly furrowed now. His knuckles tap on the arm of the chair for a moment. Then, as though coming to some sort of decision --

"I don't want to hear about this again -- to my face or behind my back. If anyone speaks to you about it, kindly direct them to me."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Gabbie frowned a little, then lifted her arms to prop her elbows on the arm of the chair and rest her chin in her hands.

Incoming: stupid question.

"Tell me the story, then."

[Lukas] Yet rather than flying off the handle, shouting at her, smashing her across the face or -- worse -- spewing the entirety of the story out, all Lukas does is shake his head.

"I don't think it's anyone's business but mine, and Sam's, and Danička's. Just because Sam can't keep his big mouth shut doesn't mean I'll follow suit. All you need to know is Sam is hardly the innocent victim he likes to think of himself as. His actions contributed as much as anyone's."

He picks his plate back up, turns his attention to his food.

"I think this discussion is finished. Was there anything else you needed to address, Gabbie?"

[Gabriella Bellamonte] He dismissed her quietly, refused to tell her the story, and, in so many words, called Sam a loud-mouthed idiot that only wanted to make himself look good. She watched him blandly for a few seconds, then shook her head and lifted her chin out of her hands. Adjusting her position some, she leaned back into the chair rather than focusing her weight on its arm.

"Just double checking to make sure you picked up on the part where Jackie's almost dead. That aside, I can leave you alone if you want me to. Looks like you have somewhere you wanted to go anyways."

[Lukas] "Jack Castellano isn't my business," Lukas replies. "He's Milo's. But thank you for the head's up. I'll pass word on to Maevsky."

Somewhere you wanted to go, she says. Lukas neither confirms nor denies. He starts in on his kebabs again, pausing only to flick her a glance.

"I'm glad you're moving into the Brotherhood, Gabbie." This is a relenting -- perhaps a sort of olive branch after he shut her down a moment ago. "At least for the time being, I think it's for the best."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Lukas ignores her comment that he had somewhere to go, which led her to believe that he was going to head out to meet Danicka at some point. After all, he had that part of his life shut down under iron doors and the thickest padlock available, didn't he? A tiny glance was cast her way, and then a verbal olive branch was extended shortly after.

She let it slide, and simply nodded her head and went along with the direction he set the conversation in now.

"I am too. I can't handle being so utterly alone all the time. Even if I am shacked up with asses like you, it's worth it." There's a grin accompanying that, a flicker of humor in both her eyes and her voice, then they dropped away just as quickly as they'd arrived when she made the next amendment. "It feels very temporary though, doesn't it?"

[Lukas] A ghost of a smile; then gone. He shrugs.

"I'm sure your brother and sister will be back soon. And then they'll want to take you back to the privileged surroundings they're accustomed to. Still," and he tips his head back to look around the high-ceilinged room with its bare rafters and its smells of good hearty cooking, "it's not bad here. Always exciting."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Exciting.

That's a word for it.

You never did know when you'd find blood sprayed all over the common room or clothes that spoke of horrible wounds that loved ones had barely survived in trash cans--... oh wait, yes you did. That was every other night. She tapped her lilac-colored fingernails, painted to match her toes, on her kneecap for a few moments in the quiet.

I'm sure your brother and sister will be back soon.
No, no they won't.
But I have to at least hope that they will, even while accepting the probable.

She pulled a deep sigh in her chest, held it there like an inhalation of drug, then breathed it slowly out her nose before looking back over at Lukas, studying his profile some before speaking up again. "....Lukas, can I ask you another question?"

[Lukas] Lukas stirs slightly in his seat. He's on his last kebab now. The salad is nearly untouched, though he did pick the cherry tomatoes off the top. And he did eat some of the couscous.

"Yeah."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] She was quiet for a moment, perhaps pondering the best way to word the question. Or perhaps considering the option of snatching a cherry tomato from Lukas's salad without getting her fingers slapped. One of the two. Either way, there was a pause before she proceeded with the question she'd been granted permission to ask.

"If Katherine and Edward don't come back, will you guys send me away or let me stay?"

If they don't come back within six months, a year, three years.... Ever...?

[Lukas] The question makes Lukas's eyebrows rise. He pulls the last chunk of lamb free -- leaves the piece of pepper and the piece of onion that still remains on the skewer -- and lets the skewer fall to the plate with a quiet clink.

"Well, what do you prefer, Gabbie?"

[Gabriella Bellamonte] "To stay."

There was no hesitation there. This was, obviously, something she'd thought about before. A glance was cast to his salad, once more, before she decided to reach over, snag a bit of lettuce that had some dressing splattered on it, and munch on that. She'd leave him his cherry tomatoes, he seemed to prefer them to the rest of the dish.

"What are my other options, really? The pack is twenty times more a family to me than Lucien will ever be."

[Lukas] "Then you stay, unless your tribe compels you otherwise." Simple.

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Of course.

She rubbed at her arm lightly, where the grazed bullet wound had scabbed over and already begun to heal. It now just looked like a particularly deep scrape more than anything else, as though she'd fallen down and hit a wicked rock when she landed. It didn't raise too many questions that she couldn't dismiss with an 'I'm a clumsy oaf' story, so she decided it'd be fine to wear her sleeveless top rather than sweat to death under a 3/4 sleeve tee.

A minute of silence passed, then Gabbie tapped her hands on the armrest before unfolding her legs out from under her and standing up, slowly mind you because the circulation was taking its time returning to her feet and shins. "Well, I won't keep you any longer, I suppose." An awkward pause, and she slipped her sandals with the cork heels back on. "Thanks, I suppose."

[Lukas] He watches her stand, setting his plate aside. A nod as she gives her goodbyes: "Night, Gabbie."