risk vs. reward.

Soledad
At some point during the week that Soledad had set up residence at his home, after her very few belongings were tucked out of the way and her spear set up in a corner somewhere accessible, Soledad almost off-handedly mentioned something to Giacomo.

"Another Garou wants to meet with you. His name's Lukas. Says you should find him at The Brotherhood of Thieves."

Lukas
Lukas is a night owl, but with the long northern summer days he's up before nightfall. The door of room 2 is ajar. Through the crack, one can see the Ahroun at his desk, standing with his weight cocked onto one leg, idly sifting through his mail. Letter after letter drops lightly onto the desktop: credit card invitations, auto insurance mailers. His phone bill he drops in a separate, smaller stack.

Giacomo
When Giacomo finds his way through the back of the brotherhood asking one in every four or five people if that staircase is in fact how he might find 'Lukas' he looks like he might've just stepped off the golf course. The fingers of a single glove coming out of the back pocket of his pressed khakis further confirms this. The Garou will note the man a few years older than himself doesn't back away even slightly at the wash of Rage in the room. That might immediately shrink anyone else before him.

There's a flash of recognition, brief and silent while the kinfolk, older by a few years sizes up the other man.

"You wanted to see me?" It's not a challenging or snide statement but it's one of ingrained confidence. The conquistatore speaking to a representative of a foreign nation. So there he stands, upright, waiting, cautious without showing caution granting audience to a monster on unfamiliar ground.

Lukas
Lukas's back is not wholly turned to the door. He's side-on to it, and instead of lifting his head merely turns it to see Giacomo just outside.

"Come on in, Giacomo."

The room is small, sparse, and humble. Lukas frowns at one last bill, tosses it into the Save pile, and then sweeps the Trash pile into the wastebin.

"Have a seat." He indicates the single desk chair, which he sets out for the kinsman, taking the bed himself. "I asked you here because an Uktena by the name of Soledad Gutierrez came to me a few days ago. It seems she's rather into you and wants to lay claim over you. She assures me that this is what you want as well, but the last time and only time I saw the two of your together, she appeared to be trying to kill you. Then she tried to conceal your identity from Milo Maevsky and I.

"You might understand why I have reservations.

"You're kin to my Tribe, which makes your safety and wellbeing my concern. So I want you to answer me honestly, with the trust that I'll have your best interests in mind:

"What do you want?"

Giacomo
"It's Jack, please." The kin smiles, not offering Jackie. His friends call him Jackie and all things considered he doesn't know this man.

"Well," he seems to ponder the ides with hands folded atop the profile of his right foot which itself props over the opposite knee. "Sol's living at my place, we've been seeing a lot of one another." There's something pained in the way he frowns and squints just slightly. "But I don't like the idea of being claimed by anybody." The other man's eyes are caught, there's a command to the way he looks at him, an unflinching air not generally worn by men even the kin of wolves.

"Now you gotta understand my position. I've met maybe three of my tribe, ever. Half a dozen werewolves in my life. What I'd like, to be candid Mr...." He trails in looking for a surname by which to call the eastern european bruiser in front of him. "Is the opportunity to breathe a minute in alla this. Sol's got me some of the way along but...it's a little fuggin' much to take at once, y'know?" He takes a breath.

"What's claimed entail, precisely?"

Lukas
"Just Lukáš," the werewolf supplies.

"For all intents and purposes, you're already claimed by default -- by me, as the tribal elder in this city. You may not like the concept, but unfortunately facts are as they lay.

"If you had another Garou in your close family, a sibling or a parent or even a cousin, an uncle, an aunt, they would hold the true claim over you, and I would only be acting as their proxy in this city. But since I assume you do not have a close Garou relative, you are essentially my kin.

"What that claim means will differ depending on who holds the claim. To me, a claim entails responsibility and accountability. I am responsible for your health and safety and, indirectly, everything you do. I have the right to ask favors of you, whereas other Garou must come to me first unless you offer of your own free will. Your actions are accountable to me, and other Garou will also hold me accountable for whatever you might do. I will punish you if I must. Other Garou might seek to have me punished should you offend them in some way. I will not dictate your every move, nor dictate your daily life, but I do expect to be informed before major life changes -- which is why Soledad came to me to raise the issue of claim.

"As for what claim means to Soledad -- that's something you need to discuss with her. But I will tell you this: if she were to claim you, then in the eyes of the Nation she may as well own you. She can do whatever she likes with you. I'm not saying she would abuse or misuse you, but if she did, the Nation would turn a blind eye until or unless another Garou wanted to challenge Soledad for you. And I will warn you -- not as a threat, but merely so that you understand this -- if you pass out of my hands of your own free will, I will not intercede again on your behalf."

The terms are cold, clinical, and perhaps deliberately so. Lukas isn't pulling any punches here; he's trying to make sure Jack understands as clearly as possible what Soledad is asking for.

"Now, the way Soledad phrased it to me, she was essentially infatuated with you, would lay down her life for you, and wanted you all to herself. You felt the same way. Therefore, she was challenging me for claim over you.

"I wanted to hear it from you."

A beat; and then he repeats, "What do you want?"

Once upon a time, he said to someone else altogether, a deliberate distancing, a deliberate dose of cold reality: Pretend the choice is yours. He doesn't say it now.

Giacomo
"Minchia." The emphasis is a frustrated whisper. A curse to be sure. Two fingers find spots on one cheek across from where his thumb is on the other, thoughtfully placing his hand partially over his mouth. The thick east coast accents of his voice aren't heard for a long collection of seconds.

"I don't claim to be well versed in the inner workings of you people." Indeed, it seems a Cosa Nostra all their own up here on the middle floor of The Brotherhood of Thieves. Truly an irony for it then to host a man like this one. "But the way I'm hearing it this isn't a decision to undertake lightly. Doesn't really sound like it's a decision in my hands."

His hand drops again to trace fingertips along the white and black of his soft-cleats.

Frank he can be too, evidently. "What's my end? What do I get for staying, and what do I get for going?"

Lukas
Lukas exhales, a faint, wry sound. "Frankly, Jack, if you're still thinking about Soledad in terms of business, you're probably not ready for the sort of attachment I suspect Soledad has in mind." There's no censure in this; only level fact. "When a Kin goes off with a Garou not of his own tribe, true fucking love is generally one of the reasons, if not the only one. What I might get out of it is not.

"Originally, I only meant to ascertain that you and Soledad were genuinely attached to one another despite the ... rocky start to your relationship. I wanted to know that you understood the dangers of being essentially mated to an Ahroun, and that you wanted it regardless. Then I would've accepted Soledad's challenge and worked the logistics out with her.

"After what I've heard from you today, I'm inclined to decline her challenge altogether. I don't think it's necessarily what you want. Nor is it in your best interest or the best interest of the tribe to give you up to the Uktena.

"If you have objections, now's the time to voice them."

Giacomo
"Man did you read that one wrong." He's chuckling on the verge of laughter. "This has nothing to do with business." His gaze levels on the Garou's.

"You look like me, you talk like I talk, you even wear clothes and eat the same food I eat." His face twists into a smile that one gets the feeling is better suited to the wielding end of a firearm. "But under your skin, you're ten feet tall with enough tooth, claw and muscle to kill me where I stand. Dangerous enough that i had to make sure I have men with guns waiting outside for all the good they'll do to make sure I come out in a few minutes with the same number of pieces as when I came in." He slows, considers how he's going to begin the next set of phrases.

Calmly, the kinfolk decides is best. "I love that girl, sure, while we're putting our cards on the table. But my question is an assessment. One of risk," one hand goes palm up beside the chair followed by the other opposite like scales on either side, "versus reward. Love is no reason to die and neither is not knowing what you're getting yourself into."

"So yeah, I object. I object to not having a goddamn clue as to what I'm actually deciding."

Lukas
Lukas's face changes imperceptible when Giacomo mentions men with guns. He doesn't grow visibly angry, or distraught, or alarmed, or ... anything, really. There's simply a sense of closing, as though a door had silently but surely shut.

"If you know they'll do no good," he replies quietly, "then don't insult my honor or your own by bringing your armed mobsters again. This is a safehouse for the Nation. I won't have the other kin and Garou living here threatened because my own kin doesn't feel safe in my presence."

Pause.

"As for what you're deciding -- if you haven't the faintest clue, then 'that girl' has been wasting my time. It was my understanding that Soledad has already spoken to you about claiming you and clarified what she wants from you. If she hasn't, then she needs to do that before bringing the matter to my door. Go back to her. Request an explanation. Get it clear.

"You also keep asking me what you get from me. The answer is: nothing more or less than what I offer any kin under my guardianship, and nothing more or less than what you've always had from me, whether you knew it or not. I'll protect you and help you if I can. I'll keep you in line if I have to. I'll ask for your help only if I need it, but if I ask I'll expect you to help me if you can. And I expect you to come to me if shit hits the fan in any sense. Other than that, I'll try to leave you alone to lead your life the best you can.

"Weigh your options as you like. When you come to a decision, return to me. I want to hear it from you, face to face. Until then, tell Soledad her challenge is not accepted."

Giacomo
"Fair enough."

"Give me your number, we'll set something up." Calmly, almost serene the man draws his phone from his pocket, it's a blackberry, the pearl model the line to the world of any twentysomething who can afford one. Quickly he snaps a picture flicking his eyes over the display to explain, "for when the number comes up." Either Lukas provides the information, or he doesn't. Should he ask for one in return it's given with the explanation, "that's the hotline."

The kin stands and offers, "Good to meet you." A hand is offered on the end of a strong darkly olive tanned arm, exposed from his white polo shirt, the hair on the backs of his limb sheens from the summer weather slightly.

Lukas
Lukas doesn't hesitate to give Giacomo his cell number. There's something wryly amused, faintly skeptical in Lukas's look when Giacomo explains the reason for the picture. The Ahroun doubts that's the only reason Giacomo wants his face on file. He doesn't complain, though. There's no point; what Giacomo grabs is public domain, and there are a thousand other ways to get a picture of him that he can't, and doesn't care to prevent.

There are Garou who are obsessive, damn near paranoid, about living off the grid. Lukas doesn't try; it's too much trouble, too damn inconvenient. He has a social security number, a driver's license, credit cards, bank accounts, investment portfolios, cell phones, car titles, credit reports. A google search might turn up his goddamn junior soccer league picture.

"I hope to hear from you soon," he concludes, and stands to see his 'guest' out.