it's nothing.

[Edward] He'd asked for a night out, drinks, two old friends, and now he's getting it. There are nerves there as he sits on a couch around a low table with a drink [barely touched] in front of him . . . chewing his nails. Lukas has known Ed since only a few months after his first change, knows how rare it is that the Ragabash bites his nails where anyone can see him, though the signs are always there. It's a thing.

And now, he waits for his Alpha.

[Lukas] Lukas is running a little late, which for a Silver Fang would doubtlessly be a popularity ploy, and for any other Shadow Lord would be a psychological tactic. In his case, it's simply rush hour traffic.

He comes in, though, and immediately zeros on Edward. Crossing the lounge bar, his rage precedes him as a wave of hushed voices and nervous glances. It's nearly warm in Chicago, and the Shadow Lord is in spring gear: dark jeans, buttoned shirt, also dark, a light coat in pale grey to shield him from intermittent showers.

He shrugs out of the coat on his way to the table, tossing it over the back of his armchair as he holds out his hand to clasp Edward's briefly. "Ed, hey. Sorry about that. Traffic." He sits, snaps up the drink list, skims it, decides, puts it aside for when the waitress came. His pale eyes flick over Edward the same way -- taking in what's noteworthy in a few quick strokes. "What's going on? You look wound up."

[Edward] "Oh," he says, standing and offering Lukas his hand - not for a shake, but to draw into a hug of greeting. It's been a while since he's done this - with Lukas, with anyone. Even Kate. "It's . . . nothing. Everything. I don't know. What are you drinking?"

A great many nights have started with Ed asking exactly that question, no doubt. And for all that he looked keyed up sitting there chewing his nails, he also looks neater, better put together than he has since his return. He's even shaved properly for the occasion, though he's yet to take the time to get a haircut. There's energy there, in him - a bit towards the manic, but not as it has been on some occasions of late. This is the more usual coming-out-of-his-moon sort of energy than the nervous drive to move, be and do.

Only once Lukas has a drink in hand and they're both sitting does Edward speak again. "You met Coraline, briefly. My kinswoman." Not that the Ahroun likely needs his memory jogged, but there it is, anyway. A sort of purpose, and by way of not starting in on his nails again, Ed picks up his glass (scotch, of course, quite fine indeed) to fidget with instead.

[Lukas] A hug, then: hand clasped to wrist, other fist thumping Edward on the back once or twice. Then the men are separating and dropping back into their seats. "Chopin," replies Lukas. "Polskiej wódka, as they'd say."

Everything and nothing and he doesn't know, Edward says, which draws a skeptically raised eyebrow from the Ahroun. "Try to be a little more morose, Ed," he replies lightly, the corner of his mouth turning up. And, "Of course, I remember her. What about her?"

[Edward] "Oh, not morose. Not right now, anyway," he says in nod to previous swings; he knows they've happened, acknowledges them, has been trying to work past them. "Actually, quite the opposite. I'll be moving into the old townhouse."

That, it seems, is random - it has little to do with anything as far as anyone but Edward would be concerned. He hasn't spoken of it until now, at any rate. And of course, it's not far from the loft, so he'll still be close to Kate, to the rest of them. It's just a change of locale. But then, about Coraline, and Ed wraps both his hands around his tumbler to keep one from going to his lips, to keep from gnawing a nail further. "She's." He blushes lightly, clears his throat. "I met her before, in France, between . . . other things." He still hasn't talked of what he did while he was gone, though Kate told Lukas about it, as far as she knew at the time. "There was a thing, at Maman's. We . . ." He shrugs, and he's never been one to talk about such things, though everyone knows he's a womanizer - not the best looking, but he's never had trouble with such things.

"Anyway, I've taken her as my mate." It sounds funny, coming from his lips - a joke, no doubt, except where honor is the one thing Edward doesn't joke about, ever. And then, a smile breaks on his lips and this? This is the Edward that Lukas met in Boston, for a brief, shining moment. "There will be a baby, come summer."

Not, of course, that Ed knows the first thing about babies - but still. An heir, another generation of Bellamontes.

[Lukas] Edward's delivery of the news is awkward, almost stilted, which makes Lukas frown at him unconsciously to try to piece together the incomplete sentences, the backstory that meanders and wanders until he gets to the point:

I've taken her as my mate. There will be a baby come summer.

At that, Lukas grins suddenly, brilliantly. "Really? Ed, that's wonderful." He gets up from his seat again, pulls Edward from his seat and into a tight bear hug. This time it's not just a few thumps: he pounds the Ragabash on the back some five or six times, then lets go and drops back into his seat, lifting his hand to wave a waitress over.

"You sly son of a bitch, I can't believe you kept this quiet for ... what, six months now? Why didn't you say anything? You should announce it to the Sept. Bring her by the Loft and meet the pack. That'll be our first cub."

The waitress is here; Lukas orders his vodka and a bottle of champagne.

[Edward] There's a broader smile then, and it does more than most to lighten his eyes; brown sparkles and Lukas is thumped in return. Edward is pleased (but so very afraid, and not owning up to it), and radiant. "I . . . it's complicated. We didn't think we'd ever see each other again, y'see; she went back to Kenya from France. And it wasn't intentional, per se."

The cub will never hear this part of the story, of course, but that's neither here nor there. "And then her studies brought her here, and we ran into each other again. And now this. And I will bring her 'round, of course." Champagne's ordered with Lukas' vodka and Edward laughs, amused. "I haven't been drinking much, lately. Think my tolerance is still what it was?" He can burn it off, of course, and it won't take much to do so. But not in a club, even early Thursday slow.

[Lukas] "Let's not find out," Lukas replies, smiling. "I don't want to carry you staggering back to your mate. Let's have a toast to your mate and cub, and leave it at that."

It doesn't take long for their drinks to arrive: Ed's scotch topped off, Lukas's vodka delivered, a bottle of Henriot alongside two flutes. The Shadow Lord does the honors, pop!ing the bottle of champagne with effortless ease, tipping the sparkling liquid into one flute, then the other.

"To the new Bellamontes," Lukas says, lifting his glass, "mother and child."

They toast; they drain. Lukas sets the glass down and sits back, picking up his double of vodka. "So I suppose you're going to be situating your mate and child at the manor? Are you planning on living with them?"

[Edward] "As much as I can. She's a willful woman, Coraline is." It's a thing Edward appreciates, when it manifests in appropriate ways - to be frank, he blames himself at least a little for what happened with Gabriella. He'd fostered an independent streak, encouraged it, and then stepped back to let it grow on its own. Before he left, that had started going poorly, and . . . well, everyone knows what's happened since his return.

[Never let it be said that he's lacking in Silver Fang hubris, however he might seem.]

"And my father lived with us as much of the time as he could manage. His was a far more . . . intense . . . presence than mine, and we managed well enough. I want to know my child, and want him - or her," though it's clear what Edward's already made the unborn in his mind, "to know me."

He sips his scotch slowly, steadily; he hadn't been kidding when he said he hasn't been drinking much lately. At Theron's party, he hadn't had anything but soda, and water.

[Lukas] "That's something rare for children of Garou," Lukas says, "and something I envy you. You might need to keep away from your child in its infancy, but I think your rage won't upset it too much for most of its childhood. You could at least go home to your mate and child most nights." The Ahroun's smile is a little rueful, "I couldn't say the same myself."

A few moments of silence. Then, with a trace of hesitation, "And the pack? Are you still with us?"

[Edward] "I . . ." He wants to say yes. Let there be no doubt there - it's writ in everything about him. The pack, to him, is his sister and his oldest friend; he cares for Caleb, Theron and Sinclair as he would for any other packmate, even without having spent one on one time with them as he had the members of the Unbroken Circle. And goodness knows (and Lukas has witnessed, perhaps), Edward needs pack even more than most Garou. "I don't know. We've all changed, obviously."

He means the three of them, but it applies to the broader pack as well - and this isn't a good thing or bad, just something that's happened. That does happen. They're none of them static beings.

"You're still my oldest friend, and one of my best, with Kate. And she'll always be my sister, of course. But I don't know that I fit any longer, and you know I'd rather just about anything than keeping the two of you from your goals."

[Lukas] There's an unfathomable silence -- the Shadow Lord sitting back in his armchair, at ease, at repose, his glass of vodka tipping gently to and fro in hand. It's an absent thing, that. His attention is focused on Edward.

Finally, and gently, "I agree."

He doesn't elaborate: he agrees that they've changed, perhaps. Or: he agrees that Ed may or may not fit anymore. Or: he agrees that he doesn't know.

"A lot changed while you were away, Ed, and I think you've been struggling to find your place ever since you came back. The Unbroken Circle was -- well, we were very idealistic and young, weren't we? I think we talked about to changing the world without really knowing how we might accomplish such a thing, or why we even should. I think in the end we were just kids. Cubs who'd never really known winter or war.

"We've... grown up, I think. There's a lot of responsibility resting on the pack now. A lot of duty, a lot of weight. Kate handles all the law in the Sept that doesn't go straight to the Grand Elder. I'm leading our people against a Hive. Which means we can't go around doing whatever we want. We have to be unified. We have to pick our battles and plan ahead. That's what Perun teaches us: not so much that we should rampage and dominate, but that every battle matters. Every move we make, makes a difference. We have to play to win -- and not for personal glory or for the fun of winning, but for the war."

Lukas takes a sip of vodka, then leans forward and sets the glass down.

"If you think that's still for you, Edward, then I'd love it if you stayed with us. You're my brother; you've been my brother since we met in New York City. But if you can't follow these ideals, then that's no one's fault, and we shouldn't force it. We should part as friends and allies, amicably, with one another's blessings."

[Edward] "Idealism isn't the sole property of youth or inexperience, but yes, we were. And while Perun's ideals are certainly sound, in theory, they don't fit with how I think any more than I truly fit in the new makeup of the pack." He has been struggling, and it hasn't helped with the other struggles he's been having - it's unfortunate, really. And really, Lukas can agree with all three in one statement; they're hardly mutually exclusive, the theories of change, whether or not Edward fits, and not knowing.

"We've all grown up, and we all have our duties and weights. I just think mine . . . may be pulling me in a different way, now. I would still have you as my dear friend, and a part of my life, and my family's - if you want it as I do. I would like my son to know my oldest friend as well, as long as he can." Because of course things happen to Garou, of course they die, or disappear into the umbra never to return. It's a part of their lives, and the same could happen to Edward at any time, quite frankly. "Every battle does matter, certainly. But battle is fought on different planes, and there are different kinds of domination. And," he says with a hint of rueful smile, stringing far too many conjunctions into his sentences, "glory's never been my thing. But if there's no fun in the winning, no joy, then what have you really won?"

Little Prince of the Glad Heart, indeed.

"It's not any of our faults, no. Everyone grows in different ways, and I'd far rather part amicably, if a parting is necessary, than come to chafing and resentment on either side. We know each other well - perhaps we'll still be able to work to each others' aid in the future."

[Lukas] "Of course, Ed." Lukas's smile is faint, a little rueful. "I wish you and new family the best, wherever you're going from here.

"Does Kate know yet?"

[Edward] "About Cora and the baby? Or about our other topic of conversation?" It's a bit wry, the question. "Yes to the latter, no to the former. She helped me pick a ring, and we bought baby things together."

Which explains the whirlwind trip they'd taken to Paris and New York, though those are hardly rare - Bellamonte trips, that is, the sort that happen suddenly and end quickly.

[Lukas] "About the pack," Lukas confirms.

No, Edward says. Lukas nods. "You should tell her, then. Privately, soon. Tonight, if possible, and the pack as a whole immediately afterward. If your mind's made up, don't stew on it.

"The equinox is coming up, though -- why don't you spend that with us before you go your own way?"

[Edward] "I will tell her, yes. And I'd every intention of fulfilling the consequences of my challenge at the moot - it would hardly be honorable to have you number one less and be without a totem because I failed." He doesn't say how he failed, mind; it's doubtful he'll ever see eye to eye with the rest of them about that.

The rest gets a smile. "It would please me to be a part of the Unbroken for a little longer, thank you."

[Lukas] "I never would have expected otherwise," Lukas replies.

Then the Shadow Lord drains his vodka in a quick, neat toss. The glass clinks down on the small table and he stands, lifting his grey coat from the seat and shrugging into it.

"I have to get going, Ed. Congratulations again -- I look forward to meeting your mate properly on the equinox, if not before then."

[Edward] "Thank you," he says, and stands to see his friend off - he's still a drink to nurse before he leaves. "I'm sure we'll see you soon."