passing the word.

[Ezra Turk] *Chinatown. Ezra is swaggering from the vice district smugly. Leather of his jacket creaking in the cold. New. Which for Ezra, more often than not was also synonymous with "stolen". Clouds hang heavy overhead, unable to decide between rain and snow, brooding overtop of the city and dimming sunlight into something grey and dismal. The neon lights of massage parlours and sex shops casting a rainbow glare in half melted puddles. A chill lazy wind makes his hair move like a living thing atop his head, as the theurge drags knobby fingers along the brick of a building as he passes. He's people watching, and what people. Bastards and Deviants all. This was his kinda place.*

[Edwin Morr] ((Because I can.

Blur of the Milky Eye))
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 8, 8, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 8)

[Edwin Morr] ((Because I want to.

Dex + Stealth + Fox, diff = 6))
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 6, 6, 8, 8, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[Edwin Morr] Little seen, lesser known, the ghosts of Chinatown roamed of their own accord. One, perhaps even less substantial than those of sepulchral nature, moved like a wraith in the darkness. No one saw him. No one noticed him. He was, in all senses of the word, a figment... A spectre... A Bogeyman...

Perhaps Delmar would have a sense of him at the edges of his vision, perhaps not... Whatever the case, Ezra's form is ghosted as surely as by his own shadow, so tightly did the darkness cling to this one.

Then, a voice is heard right by Ezra's ear... So close he could feel the breath brush his hair.

"Well, well... Lawng time, no see."

[Ezra Turk] [I'ainta afraida no ghost! - Manip+subterfuge]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 4, 4, 5, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Ezra Turk] *Something was stalking him, but Ezra was blissfully unaware of Edwin's presence as he moved down the street, fingertips experiencing the wet grainy roughness of brick and the frozen bite of smooth glass. He doesn't realize there's a creature nearly riding in his pocket until the Bogeyman drawls in his ear, a greeting and a warning all at once. It takes will to keep his spine loose. Not to curl his hands into fists and snap around with an inhuman snarl. Ezra manages, however. Surprised huff of breath turning into a derisive snort. His voice a craggy rasp.*

Careful Edwin, pant at my neck and whisper in my ear, You're going to get yourself fucked like a kinfolk.

*The wild haired man looks over his shoulder, cheshire grin wide and pointed. Black eyes flashing with sinister humor. His fingers however, begin to tap against black jeans. Rat. tat-tat-tat-tat. Rat. Tat-tat-tat-tat.*

Good to see you.

[snail] (crashable?)

[Edwin Morr] "Yer welcome ta try, boy-o. 'Course... If'n ya cain't see me comin', howdya know I ain't got uh knife 'gainst yer back even's we speak?"

Edwin grins that lopsided grin, backing away ever so slightly, giving Ezra a bit of space. His hands rested in the pockets of a brown denim jacket, as shaded eyes turn to the street beyond.

"Reckon likewise... Up ta yer ol' tricks?"

[Delmar Meister] Ezra was on the move. Edwin was stalking his prey. And, ever the odd man out, Delmar just stood there.

There were only a few reasons why any man stands at a street corner in this kind of neighborhood, and none of them were very good. But he was Low Key, and living up to his name. While vendors and pedestrians alike hustled and bustled up, down, and around the way, he remained on the edge. Out of the way. Unseen.

Which is, perhaps how he could get away with rifling through three different wallets so far.

Blue eyes take in a quick survey of his surroundings, and settle quite suddenly on the approaching Ezra. Here comes another sucker.

[Izzy Montoya] That's the thing with working Homicide. You get called all over the fucking city by virtue of the fact there's simply not enough cops to go around. And, truth be told, Chinatown gives the Detectives quite a bit of business. Fortunately, it makes it all the easier to snag some takeout.

Which is exactly what lead one Detective Montoya to her current position - not very far from the Bogeymen and their prey; leaning on the side of her [unmarked] car, a take out container in hand, busily shoving chow mein into her mouth. It's shocking, really, considering what she'd just seen inside the door down the way, now marked with yellow caution tape that flutters in the Chicago Wind. Several of the beat cops saw her eating and gagged at the thought alone - which amused the fuck outa her.

Damn, but she loves her job.

[Lukas] (i'm at work, but i should have a chunk of free time here. however, if i get really slow, just go on w/o me.)

[Ezra Turk] *Ezra snerks. At 5'10 and around 170lbs, He's not one to stand out in a crowd. Black eyes, black hair. Broad shoulders on a lean frame. His features are vulpine and sly, his eyes intense and glinting with manic energy. His hair waves uncontrolled atop his head, and his features include a prominent nose, trim goatee and thick, darkly arched eyebrows. There's something of unhinged malice about Ezra Turk, coupled with a pointed cheshire smile, unshakable confidence and sinister charm. Shadowlord, if the blood sang true. His voice a low rasp, as though the man had swallowed glass and was too stubborn to cough it up.*

Are they tricks if you never stop doing them?

*He takes in Edwin, calculating, appraising. The man was a sneaky fucker, He'd give him that. For all Ezra's bravado, his fingers were still tapping along the window of a pawn shop, moving to brick as he carries on. Edwin at his back apparently not troubling him. Cocky as he was. He jerks his bearded chin in the direction of police tape and Izzy, Delmar in his peripheral. Gravelling lowly in something akin to warning.*

Get.

[Lukas] Superficially, a totem is about all Ezra and Edwin share with Lukas. Where the new moons are sly and disreputable, downright devious at times, the full has a sort of savage nobility to his bearing. Some would say it's a throwback to older times; others would say he's been hanging around Fangs too much.

Nonetheless, there he is, at the corner with a paper bag from one of the more expensive chinese restaurants in the area. In a city like Chicago, such things exist. The light turns. He crosses the street. There's a pause when he sees them, and then he heads toward his tribemates.

"Edwin," when he's within earshot. Then his pale eyes fall on Ezra, direct, curious. "Who are you?"

[Delmar Meister] Shit. If it isn't Mr. Bitey Chomp Chomp. It had been a few moons since their run in at the fire-ghost theater. Less time since he'd seen him go batshit at some fang at the moot. And now he was...

Delmar pushed off the corner of the building, weaving through the foot traffic as he approached the Shadow Lords, Shoulders haunched, and right leg held slightly stiff.

[Edwin Morr] Edwin pauses as Lukas approaches, his sly grin widening as Lukas' asks after Ezra's name.

"Even assumin' he tells ya true, how like'r ya ta believe't, Lukas?"

Then, the shaded gaze returns to Ezra.

"True dat 'bout th'tricks... An' as fer th'Get, can't throw uh stone 'roun' here 'thout hittin' one. Dey's like rabbits in dese parts. But don' worry, 'bout th'one."

He shrugs, leaving it up to their interpretation which wasn't to be worried about. The shaded gaze of the Lord grows vacant for a mere moment, returning with the sly smile in full force.

"Whut brings you out ta Chinatown t'night, Lukas?"

[Izzy Montoya] Izzy isn't the type to miss much, so it's no surprise when she notes the two Shadow Lords talking, a Fenrir approaching, and another Lord joining the party.

And they think the Get breed like bunnies...

When Edwin looks her way, she lifts her take out container slightly in a hello, but doesn't approach. Their current path will cross her's soon enough.

[Ezra Turk] *Lukas' presence was overpowering. Rage strong even for an ahroun, though held in steely check. Ezra's head lolls to the side lazily, gaze sharp on the fostern. A rasping chuckle as Edwin speaks for him. Explains about the get. Izzy gets a flash of teeth in hello, Delmar a nod. Lukas, well, he gets a name.*

Ezra.

*Knobby fingers jab a rhythm against brick as he makes to lean against the wall. Grin wide and insincere as ever. He rasps.*

Ezra Turk.

[Lukas] At the moot, Lukas went batshit at some Fang. Bore down on him like a goddamn engine of destruction, bellowing, browbeating, snapping and snarling in his face.

After the moot, Lukas beat that same Fang into unconsciousness three times in a row when he refused to submit. The third time, he killed the Fang. Deliberately. As a tactic. Forced him to rage back, just so he could cowed him into submission and win.

Mr. Bitey Chomp Chomp. Mr. For the War. Mr. the Enemy is the Wyrm.

He looks at Edwin flatly for a moment, saying nothing. He's not an edifice of ice. People have seen him laugh, smile, act in kindness. There's very little of that tonight. Then his eyes swing back to Ezra for the response, meeting his eyes for a long second, then flickering down over the rest of him, face and form.

When he speaks again, it's unexpectedly low, cordial. "Welcome to Chicago, Ezra. I'm Lukáš Wyrmbreaker, the alpha of the tribe in this city. Until you find and join a pack, you're my responsibility, for better or worse."

Then he turns back to Edwin. "To find you, actually, with a couple of questions." He glances over his shoulder -- Delmar, approaching. Back. "Are you staying with your pack, then?"

[Delmar Meister] "Uhhhh..." Comes from the man in the coat and black hood. Great, not only was he a slouch with a limp, but a stupid slouch with a limp. He wasn't much to look at either. That pasty skin and those thin, constantly frowning lips don't make for much of a Casanova.

While he formulates his answers his eyes move over to Izzy across the way. there's the look of recognition, and a smirk gets thrown in with slight upward nod she gets before he turns back to Lukas.

"Why wouldn't I?"

[Lukas] (he's talking to edwin!)

[Delmar Meister] ((Oops! Scratch that last bit then.))

[Ezra Turk] *Ezra's eyes are hard to meet for long. Its not due to any terrible rage, or overwhelming threat of overt violence. Its not because they dazzle or draw a person in. Its because they're black, reptilian, and because they almost vibrate with a manic energy that makes it seem as though at any moment they'll separate from the theurge's skull and attack on their own. Ezra was, in short.. rather strange. He grants Lukas the same frank appraisal Lukas granted him, fingers tapping a beat against brick like a personal soundtrack to madness.*

Pleasure's all mine Wyrmbreaker-Rhya.

*As no doubt, being responsible for a creature like Ezra Turk was a pleasure to no one at all. He watches the interplay between Edwin and Lukas with cagey interest, a break in tapping as he runs a hand through wild hair.*

[Izzy Montoya] Delmar looks her way and tosses her a smirk, which she answers with a lopsided one of her own. She takes another bite of her chow mien, and watches the group as they talk. She isn't close enough to hear - and is likewise not inclined enough to change her position.

Doesn't mean she isn't watching closely though - because she is.

[Edwin Morr] "Well... I thought thangs over. An' I jes' dunno if'n yer totem'n me'd see eye ta eye. An' given some yer packmates ain't fond uh li'l ol' me... Bringin' me on might be more trouble'n worth."

Edwin shrugs, his hands stuffed in his pockets. The shaded gaze swings to where Izzy stares, and with the eye that Lukas can't see, he winks at her. Then, as the gaze swings back to Lukas, he continues.

"'Sides... Fox's been mighty good ta me'n mine. Reckon she'd be awful dis'pointed if'n I's ta leave 'er in th'lurch. 'Course... Dat ain't ta say I might not change m'mind, further down th'road.

I git dis feelin' dat decides yer next line uh questionin'..."

[Lukas] Lukas shakes his head, negating not Edwin's decision but the necessity of explanation. "Fair enough," he replies. "For the record, when I offered on Thanksgiving Day I was under the impression that your pack was still you and Blast, whom I hadn't seen for months. I'm glad to see you're expanding.

"And, no, actually, it doesn't. It's more tribal business. A word of caution. You've seen the Silver Fang around, Dirge of the Covenant?"

[Ezra Turk] *He's listening. Absorbing. A fixture of the building he leans on, letting his gaze drift to the kinfolk doing much about the same thing. Izzy. The tapping quieter as he looks from Delmar to the kin in interest. A dark eyebrow raising in silent question above his pointed smile.*

[Edwin Morr] "Well, ain't e'sactly big, but growin'... Dat said, ya knows whut me'n mine'r good fer. 'Tleast 'til ya gits yerself uh feller ta fit th'bill fer yer lonesome ownsome, reckon we'd be more'n happy ta lend uh han'."

Edwin nods, his grin growing less pleasant... More sinister.

"Yeah, reckon I seen 'im brayin' like'n ass dere't th'moot. Yer 'bout ta tell me he's gunnin' fer Lords ta stir up trouble. Right?"

[Izzy Montoya] Edwin winks at her, and that smirk slides into a chuckle, as she takes another bite of her noodles, and continues to watch. She shifts her position slightly where she leans on the side of her car, and crosses her legs at the ankle when she's settled once more.

Ezra glances her away this time, and she arches a brow slightly. Her coat is open as always, and it's no mistake that her hand drops and pushes the ride side to open it a bit more. He'll recognize the move. She'd done it once before.

That said, the smirk, lopsided and sure, still rests easy on her lips.

[Lukas] Lukas's pleasantries are in short supply tonight, but the edge of his mouth does turn up in a brief, wan smile. "I know, Edwin," he says.

And then, a faint scoff. "Yeah, exactly. I had a look into his flaws while we were having a shouting match. Our friend is schizophrenic -- I'm guessing the paranoid variety -- and has a vindictive streak a mile wide. Most of that will undoubtedly be directed at me and mine, given what's happened. But considering his pet name for our tribe seems to be 'usurpers,' I'd say he's convinced that our entire tribe exists purely to tear him down from his imagined throne.

"Keep your guard up around him, especially if you have to go into battle with him. We know who the enemy is, but I don't think he does." The Ahroun's pale eyes cut suddenly to Ezra. "That goes for you too."

[Delmar Meister] He sniffs, once and abruptly, as if battling the first signs of a cold. And then his eyes are turning to Ezra, eying the guy with not even a hint of subtlety. That hair, that new jacket, that eyebrow and pointed smile. That Distinct smell of Shadow Lord as strong as his own sense of Fenrir-ness about him. His face twists into a mock grin, one ugly as sin, and he lets out a quiet 'Hurr' sounding laugh to go along with it.

[Ezra Turk] *Ezra's smile is a wide and growing thing. Izzy flashes a gun, and Ezra's eyes flash with something like amusement, as he adjusts his casual stance against the brick. Delmar laughs and there's a low rasp in the Theurge's throat. A nod to Lukas, and a kiss blown to Edwin. Yes. A Kiss. Low chortling following him as he slips down the alley and away. Business to attend to. Ezra wasn't one to wait on people for any length of time. *

[Ezra Turk] [i"m out to make supper! adios!]

[Izzy Montoya] Ezra smiles, and then disappears down the alley and away, as Izzy, pulls her coat back into previous position. Something subtle in that, of course, the interplay between the Theurge and herself.

She doesn't seem inclined to clarify the subtleties for anyone.

[Edwin Morr] "Well, don' sweat. He ain't th'only one I don't aim ta ever git hung out ta dry by...

Fools abound."

Edwin nods, considering...

"Seems ta me we give 'im 'nough rope, he'll hang 'isself fer us. But me'n mine'll steer clear... So long's he don' make't too serious ta 'gnore. Dat happens..."

Edwin's lopsided grin turns sly, almost as if to say how much fun the Bogeymen would have at their antagonist's expense if it came to it.

[Edwin Morr] ((Gotta go soon.))

[Lukas] (no prob! i think lukas is at a wrap here.)

The Ahroun nods, then shifts his cooling dinner to his left hand. "Good to know." Turning to go, he pauses again a few feet away. "One more thing. I heard about that deal with Lonna. Not exactly honorable, but Joey walked into that one with her eyes wide open. If she offered, you deserve to take. Hatchet's a sly bastard and he'll weasel out of it if he can, but he is a Half-Moon when all's said and done. He knows her word is her word. If Joey hasn't repaid you adequately, demand something else from her."

[Edwin Morr] Edwin nods, grinning widely.

"Fair 'nough... 'Sides, when've ya ever known me ta take anythin' less'n whut I felt I's owed fer anythin'?

Be uh cryin' shame if word got all 'roun' th'caern whut Joey's track record on holdin' up 'er end uh th'bargain was... Cryin' shame if all dat honor got fritter'd 'way jes' cause Hatchet don' wanna pay up.

So... Don' sweat. I'll git m'pound uh flesh fer't. Th'one way 'r th'other. Th'only question's how mis'rable I gotta make Hatchet a'fore he sees th'error uh his ways in dat respect."

At this, Edwin chuckles darkly and nods.

"See ya 'roun', -rhya..."

[Delmar Meister] ((Yeah, afraid i can't stick around. 7:00 is no hour to be at work still.))

[Lukas] Lukas's laugh is shallow and quiet, little more than an exhale. He turns to go again, his free hand dipping into his pocket for his car keys. "Goodnight, Edwin."