on the way to dinner.

[Lukas] They have certain unspoken boundaries -- or at least, they haven't really spoken of them yet. It's the way she behaves when there are others about; it's the way she restrains herself, and he restrains himself, even when others aren't.

All the contact she allows herself is her hand against the side of his thigh, through his jeans. All the contact he allows himself is a brief drop of his hand atop hers, his palm against her knuckles.

Dinner, Danicka says, which makes Lukas slant a wry glance at his half-a-lamb rack. Well; at least he hadn't eaten much of it, yet. "I don't have a car anymore," he says. This is also wry. "It met a dismal fate the night we avenged Mrena. Do you want to call a cab?"

She's in four inch heels, after all.

[Danicka] As those currently pale, crystal eyes slide over to the half-eaten rack of lamb, Danicka's lips twist faintly in a smirk of restrained amusement. Yes, she noticed his dinner. But it had no existence in her mind, no reality, when on a whim she decided to adjust her course away from the restaurant she'd been intending on going to and decided to come here instead, come to him instead.

The smirk doesn't last long, because it is replaced so soon by a slight furrow between her brows. He doesn't have a car anymore. That frown deepens when he tells her it met a dismal fate...and when.

But then she smiles. "I hate riding in cabs," she says quietly, and it's strange, because she's from New York City, she didn't own a car until shortly before moving here, and one would think she would have spent a lot of time in cabs. Maybe that's why she hates them. Danicka leans back slightly, letting her spine relax. "Besides. You have lamb."

[Lukas] He wants to tell her not to look at him like that, not because he doesn't want her pity but because he knows it's not pity, it's genuine, it's something like pain -- and he doesn't want that, either. He wants to tell her it's okay, death for a Garou wasn't like death for a human or even a kin, and he has a broader understanding of cosmology and fate and the cycle of reincarnation, though perhaps that's not entirely true, because when she showed up on Evan's arm, pale and shaken, his heart had nearly dropped through the floor.

Lukas doesn't tell her any of this, though, because she says: I hate riding in cabs. And he looks at her suddenly, with an unexpected and slow-dawning smile.

"I remember," he replies.

He has lamb. This draws his attention back to his dinner, which he'd split with Caleb. "Yeah," he says, on a quiet laugh, and picks it up again. He offers her the plate; whether she cuts herself a rib or not, he resumes eating.

A pause. Then, "Was I out of line to remind the Uktena of your mother earlier?"

[Danicka] It would be insulting to tell Danicka that it's okay, that death for a Garou isn't like death for a human or even a kin. It would be dismissive, to inform her that he knows better, that her pain or her empathy is not needed, to tell her that he understands the cycle of life and death and ancestry and spirits better than she does. Her answer would be simple. Her answer would be things he already knows.

Though, given the way he left her at the beginning of this month, given the circumstances and the reasons, it's possible she would tell him more. It's possible she would sit down with him in private sometime and tell him about where her father's family is from, this town with the iconic church and the vineyards. It's possible that she would tell him about the Dvoraks, about her Russian and Polish ancestors, about the extended family in Detroit that she's never met and the extended family in Prague that she writes to at least once a year.

It's possible she will tell him all of this. Now, after everything else.

She takes the offered plate, plucks a rib off of its surface, and starts to tear pieces of meat off the bone to pop in her mouth. She pauses, her fingers holding food, her mouth open, when he speaks. Her mouth closes and she tilts her head at him, then shakes her head. "No. It was familiar." And she eats the lamb, somehow making eating with her fingers remarkably tidy, remarkably demure.

[Lukas] There's a wolfishness to the way he eats his lamb: the rib held in his fingers, the meat held still, his head turning this way and that to strip the bone clean. Back when the Bellamontes led the pack, Lukas made an effort to keep a napkin close at hand even here, in what might be termed the privacy of his own home. These days he does that less; saves it for the dining room downstairs, the restaurants. It's hard to say if it's intentional; if he even realizes this.

"All right," he replies; he doesn't search her face to see if she's telling him the truth, but he does watch her for a moment. "You speak of her so little. I wasn't sure if referring to her would upset or hurt you."

A pause.

"I wouldn't have said anything at all," he adds then, quieter, half-meditative, "only I felt insulted on your behalf, even though I knew it was only a wolf-born's lack of social graces." He's done with this rib; he sets it down on the plate with a light clink, a pale slender arc of bone darkened at the edges by the oven. "I suppose when you come down to it, I just didn't like the way he stared at you when you walked in -- as sophomoric a reaction as that was.

"Anyway." Almost as soon as the words are out he swings the subject away. "Why don't you like riding in cabs?"

[Liadan] [Manip+Subt]

[Liadan] Líadan has been awake for some time within room 7 of The Brotherhood of Thieves. She has kept to herself for the day, laying in the small bed in her borrowed clothes. Her sleep is fitful, and she is tormented by dreams of claws reaching for her from a pitch black void. When she finally decides it's time to risk running into other people, it's night time. She leaves room 7 for a stop in the bathroom. She does what she can to wash her face and straighten her hair. The braids she had plaited the afternoon before are messy and tangled. It's difficult to run her fingers through the mess, but she makes do, and she pulls the thick red mass from her neck, twists it in place with a hair tie.

When she enters the common area, her intent is to perhaps find Taggart. If he's not there she'll go down into the kitchen and speak to Jenny, or Reuben, and ask one of them if they can contact her roommate. She wants to wear her own clothes, sleep in her own bed. Hell, she'd settle for just a nice hot shower right about now.

Who she finds instead are Danicka and Lukas. Líadan's face is haggard, but she smiles and looks happy to see them, or at least Danicka. She can't image what she'll think of her, all tangled mess of hair, borrowed yellow tee shirt, borrwed red shorts, bare feet. It's not an outfit she would have put together in a million, no a billion years. But she wears it anyway because she would have had to ask someone else for something different, and she wasn't ready to face people until just now.

“Hey, guys, what's up?” She sees the dinner, knows she's intruding, doesn't care. It doesn't show.

[Danicka] On occasion, Lukas has seen Danicka devour the food in front of her. He knows that she's wicked with chopsticks and will have drinks and dessert, as well. But that's in private. At Spring, and now in the common room of the 'dorm' area of the Brotherhood, she eats carefully. It is not 'almost' ladylike. It is entirely polite, so much so that she doesn't even even to lick her lips after a bite to make sure her mouth isn't messy.

Lukas goes on about her mother, or at least the fact that she doesn't speak about her. Danicka would normally pause and tell him that there is not much to say, but there isn't a lot of room in between his words. So she chews the lamb, her lips together, and glances at the wine on the coffee table thoughtfully as he goes on. Sometimes he speaks and she could answer, but he does not seem to need her to. He asks no question of her, and does not pause very long for her to expound on anything, so...in the end...Danicka just tears off a bit more lamb and eats some more.

The corner of her mouth pulls in a small smile. It's gently amused -- Lukas subduing a snarl because Wahya stared at her. It passes from her expression rather quickly; she hasn't forgotten the night in the kitchen when he made her laugh...and then made her terrified.

"They smell, they're uncomfortable, and I -- Dai?"

It sounds like die.

Her eyes are up, looking at the door between hallway and common room, and her back is suddenly straight again. Danicka looks like she's about to go out for the night, perhaps to a play. Her skirt is shifting blues and greens, made of silk and just barely above her knees. Her camisole is soft, fitted, and white. The shawl looped over her elbows is silvery gray and there's a long chain around her neck, strappy four-inch heels on her feet.

And her roommate standing in the doorway. And surprise written all over her face...for a moment. Then she wipes it away, subduing her expression. "How have you been?"

[Lukas] And she -- dies?

No; wait; Liadan. Lukas wonders in what language Liadan's nickname would be Dai. He doesn't ask. The way they're sitting, Danicka merely looks past him; he has to turn his head around. There's faint surprise when he looks at the kinswoman, who is not his kinswoman -- not by blood, and certainly not by claim.

Liadan thinks she's intruding, but even she can tell, at a glance, that they haven't come back here from a night out on the town. Danicka looks fresh, like she's about to head out; she looks a little dressy, classy, and her heels are fucking provocative. Lukas looks like he might've come in an hour or two ago, and his gear is snappy and casual: dark jeans, a light linen shirt in pale blue, with thin, broadly spaced stripes of white and two shades of sand.

His feet are bare. There's a shine of sauce at the corner of his mouth, which he wipes away with the heel of his hand in a thoughtless, unembarrassed swipe. He sits up and reaches for a cloth napkin, with which he wipes his hand off.

"Hey, Liadan." He thinks back, refilters his immediate memory of the past few moments: he heard a door open down the hall, didn't he? His curiosity is casual, "Did you crash here?"

[Liadan] Líadan smiles. Shrugs and Danicka's question. There are no pockets in the shorts. When she raises her hands to discover this, she hooks her thumbs into the waistband instead. She stays within the doorway leading to the bedrooms, leans against it. On a normal day she'd be wearing jeans, a tee shirt, she'd look like she could almost be someone who belongs with these two. She looks casual, relaxed, fine. She's dressed like a lunatic. Or a five-year-old who's been given permission to dress themselves.

To Lukas' question she bobs her head once. “Yeah. You guys headed out or something? Could I maybe hitch a ride? If that's alright. I'd kinda like to take a shower, maybe wear some real clothes.”

It sounds like she 'crashed' here suddenly, borrowed someone's clothes, didn't borrow that someone's shower supplies.

[Danicka] [Perception + Empathy, Reflexive]

[Danicka] So far Lukas hasn't heard 'Dai' refer to Danicka as 'Vyv'. He doesn't know that they first met as Udainao and Vývratku, later as starseed42 and LithiumFlower. Then again, though he knows that Danicka plays World of Warcraft and peruses books on Perl in her spare time, he has no idea that she is a role-player, that she has watched a ridiculous amount of anime, or that she once corrected a teacher during AP Calculus.

That AP credit, in the end, meant nothing.

Liadan does indeed look odd...just...off. Danicka can't see it in her eyes or hear it in her voice but her clothes are, strictly speaking, fucked up. Lee doesn't dress herself like Danicka does, but she doesn't walk around in red shorts and a yellow t-shirt looking like she hasn't showered in a day or two. She blinks in response to Liadan's nod that yes, she stayed here. Crashed here. And then makes an assumption.

It is incorrect. She has no way of knowing. But it doesn't flicker in her eyes or make her go ohhh silently. She just lets it pass, and starts to lower the rib of lamb she's been picking at. "His car has joined mine in the netherworld. Do you...do you need money for a cab, or..."

[Lukas] Remarkably, Lukas does not immediately leap to the same conclusion Danicka has drawn, despite knowing more than she does of who, of which tribe, also lives under the Brotherhood's roof. This is possibly only because he has his own assumptions on Hatchet's sexual orientation now, and because ... well. She doesn't smell like Hatchet.

"There was some talk of going out to dinner," Lukas says and, out of politeness, doesn't mention that this proposal was already vetoed by reason of lamb rack.

Liadan's not blind, though: there are bones on one plate, a half-eaten half-rack on the other. Danicka has a rib in hand. There's a bottle of cognac and two glasses -- though closer observation would note that Danicka and Lukas appear to be eating off the same plate, while the other belonged to someone else now absent.

"If you want to shower and change," Lukas adds, "I can see if Dylan has anything you could wear."

[Liadan] Dylan. Líadan doesn't recognize the name. “Hm.” Is all she says at first. She leans so that her upper body is flat against the door frame. A hand comes up, fingers lightly brushing her bottom look as she considers the offer. She doesn't like going a day without washing, and if there's a chance of her being seen in public, she would prefer to be clean. And not wearing mixing yellow with red.

“I could go for food,” she says idly. Her eyes raise from the spot on the floor she was staring at contemplatively, meet Lukas', then Danicka's. She finally notices her roommate's attire, really looks at it. This Dylan person's clothes had better be awfully nice to match against that outfit. “If you guys aren't hungry, I could just go for some Hardee's.” Pause. “I could pay you back. I left my wallet at home.”

[Danicka] For all Danicka knows -- or truly cares -- Liadan was here fucking Sampson. They had a brief chat about pure breeding the other day, about the way so many Garou seem...attracted to it. She doesn't know if any of the males or females are Fianna, but that makes no difference. The first time she had sex under this roof it wasn't with a Garou of her own Tribe. She'd worn her own clothes home, which she now realizes was lucky; given the way Lukas has reacted to her sometimes she would not be surprised if one of these days he rips apart a three-hundred-dollar dress.

In which case she would be walking home wearing four-inch heels and an outfit not unlike the one her roommate is currently sporting.

She doesn't judge. She's the last person on earth to judge anyone for who they fuck or what drugs they take or the shit they get up to at three or four in the morning. Lee, in particular, she has no room at all to look down on. Especially since it's only in those four-inch heels that she even matches Lee's height.

Her brows furrow slightly when Lee says she left her wallet at home. Bullshit, she thinks, briefly. I call shenanigans. Her eyes move over to Lukas as she lowers her rib back to his plate. It never touched her mouth, just her fingers. "You know, I think I'm going to call a cab and get Lee home. If the two of us keep needing this Dylan woman's clothes we'll empty out her wardrobe." She wipes her fingertips on a nearby napkin and reaches into her bag, pulling out her iPhone.

[Lukas] "No need," repayment.

Lukas was a tower of generosity tonight. The Shadow Lord's eyes are the palest of blues, clear as ice. His gaze ticks over Liadan, impersonally, critically, taking measure of her. Presumably, it's to find something that fits her. It's hard not to feel judged by that glance, though, from her ghastly red shorts to her bright yellow shirt. For a moment it's thoroughly believable that this man grew up in New York City. Only on the streets of Manhattan does one find this sort of regard: the impression that the entirety of one's existence is summed up and judged in the space of two or three seconds based on what one wears, how one looks, how one carries oneself.

Except -- Lukas didn't grow up in Manhattan. He grew up in the ethnic neighborhoods of the Bronx, in an enclave of Russians and Poles and Czechs. You wouldn't know it, though, from the way he dresses, the way he behaves, the way he masters a room by simply being in it. That's because he grew up, really grew up, around creatures far worse than Manhattan sharks. He grew up around Shadow Lords, and that's enough to teach anyone to conceal weakness; to sink or swim.

He's getting to his feet when Danicka says she's going to call Liadan a cab instead. Lukas's head turns; for a moment Liadan has a quarter-view of him: the back of his dark head, mostly, and the edge of a wide, sharp cheekbone.

Then he settles back. "All right," he says; he doesn't seem to mind either way. "Why don't you sit, Liadan? This place is pretty out of the way, and it might take dispatch a while to get a cab out here."

[Liadan] Líadan catches the glance, the eyes weighing her appearance, and...she can't help it. Standing in the doorway, several feet away, leaning on the frame with arms crossed over her chest, her head tips down. A brow arches. The first time this man, this man who terrified her, saw her, she was wearing pajama bottoms and a tank top. The last time he saw her, she had just spent several hours alone in the woods in the middle of the night. He seems to have a knack for catching her at her worst, and that worst just keeps getting worse. The fuck did he know?

When he starts to rise, she tenses, preparing to defend herself if need be. When he settles back down she said, “I'll stand, thanks.” Her voice is flat, despite the almost amiable look on her face.

[Danicka] [Perception + Empathy: You know what Kahseeno? I'ma give it to you slow tonight. Nice and sweet. Mmhmm.]

[Danicka] Neither of them grew up in Manhattan. Danicka did, however, spend most of her late adolescence and early adulthood there. She dresses like it, talks like it, walks around town as though there is nothing more natural than pretending like you are not afraid of the empty streets and emptier eyes. As Lukas moves to stand, offering Lee a place to sit, her eyes don't move from her phone. She's putting the phone to her ear, informing the company of where and when, only returning her full attention to her 'boyfriend' and her 'friend' after the call is through.

That is when she sees Liadan tense up. If she were an animal she would be making herself bigger. As a mortal woman she is visibly threatened, even though she gets past it quickly. Danicka does not frown, or suddenly gasp. She remembers the first time Luks met Liadan, how she stayed away from him, how she tried to avoid coming near him while Danicka...danced.

Her eyes flick to Lukas, not to communicate but gauge, and then she rises, picking up her purse and leaning over to him to plant the sort of polite, barely-there kiss on his cheek that people in high society will greet a total stranger with. She is out of reach a second later. This is the second time they've touched in five days. "Actually, we should head downstairs and raid the kitchen while we wait. We have absolutely nothing of any nutritive value at home," she says dismissively, waving a hand and pulling her shawl back up around her shoulders.

"Dai?" she inquires, adjusting the fall of fabric and shifting her hair out of the way. Her voice is oddly gentle...inherently familiar. "Shall we?"

[Danicka] [LUKAS. NOT LUKS.]

[Lukas] (aw. *disappointed*)

[Lukas] (hey look, i have moar empathee now!)

[Lukas] All at once both Shadow Lords are looking at Liadan, and though Danicka does a better job of concealing it -- is better, in fact, at gauging the entirety of one's present existence in the space of two or three seconds -- both of them are reading her.

Lukas's eyes stay on Liadan a beat longer, cool and measuring, curious. He tilts his head slightly to accept Danicka's kiss, and though his eyes stay on Liadan while her lips brush his cheek, they shift to the blonde as she straightens. A phrase swims into his head:

...your masks of social graces.

and out again, flickering away like an individual fish into a flashing silver school. He hasn't been to the Aquarium in a long time; this thought occurs to him too, and matters as little as the other.

"The pot roast is always popular," is all he says. He gets up too, stacks up some of the soiled plates, refills his snifter of cognac. "I'll be in my room."

[Liadan] Líadan nods to Danicka, her eyes not leaving Lukas still sitting on the couch. “And Hardee's would be nutritious?” she asks, all smiles again as she follows her down the stairs. The stairwell is not well lit, the light coming mainly from the rooms above and below, something that didn't bother Lee when she came to the Brotherhood last. But as she begins to make her descent, she feels something on the back of her neck. Perhaps it's just a stray hair escaped from her ponytail. Perhaps a small insect. To Líadan, however, it feels like the chilling caress of a claw. Startled, she tries to turn midstep to look behind her on the stairs, keeping her hand on the rail, twisting her upper body. Were she on level ground she would have leapt in place to face her assailant, body poised to fight with all the fury her weak human body could muster.

But there's nothing on the stairs behind her. It was, in fact, just a stray hair that grazed her neck, and for this error in perception she earns herself a misstep. She stumbles when her foot connects with the wrong stair but doesn't fall. She's tired, she tries to tell herself. It's hard to sleep in this place filled to the brim with Rage. She turns back to the front to see if her roommate heard her faint squeak of surprise, the thud as she stopped herself from crashing into the other woman.

[Danicka] She might have let Liadan go first, so she could stop at the top of the stairs, look over her shoulder, and mouth a soft I love you to Lukas. That is, if she were the sort to do so. She may be. No one thinks so, to look at her, to watch the way she walks in those dangerous heels, that she would be so cutesy, so coyly affectionate. That kiss on his cheek was cold as ice, the sort of thing Katherine Bellamonte did as a matter of course.

Instead, she leads the way, saying only, "Dobrou noc, Lukášek," before she grasps the handrail and starts to descend. He will be in his room. Apparently she will not be joining him there later, or returning to say a more intimate goodnight.

A few steps down the stairwell, she hears Lee stumble behind her and glances back briefly, without pausing her own steps. "You all right?" she asks, sounding merely...curious.