angry citizen.

[Leslie Chadwick] It had been all too quiet, and Leslie had decided to go poking around, her cellphone remained silent, no one had called, and she was starting to get this feeling that she was going to have to shake some cages, or she would no doubt go mad from annoyance. So she waited, sitting at the Brotherhood with a new issue of Forbes, a fresh pot of coffee and a roll of Oreos waiting for a familiar face, or...by this point -any- face.

[Theron Locke] Theron looked exhausted , like he hadn't slept in several days. Leaving his room, as he threw back onto his bed. He pulls a white tee over his olive skinned body covered almost totally in tattoos. A pair of cargo pants worn on his legs as he proceeds down the corridor towards the common room.

Entering the room, he proceeds towards the pool tables, his target laying beyond. The small bar against the containing a bottle of scotch with his name on it. He pours himself a glass and then carries said glass and bottle back towards the couch. It's only then that he notices he isn't alone "Oh hey Leslie... sorry was in a world of my own."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Ms. Chadwick."

It's not lamb, for once. It's not even meat. It's ... what looks like a hearty breakfast platter, with fruit crepes and french toast and canadian bacon and fresh-cut fruit. Lukas sets it down on the coffee table and sinks down in his usual spot at the turn of the sectional.

"Haven't seen you around for a while." A nod to Theron, "Hey."

The Shadow Lord smells freshly showered -- clean, faintly spicy. His hair is wet, dripping onto the shoulders of his t-shirt, darkening the grey into charcoal. He's freshly shaven, too, the cut lines of his jaw smooth.

[Leslie Chadwick] She watched over her magazine with interest as Theron had walked across the room, to grab some booze and back again, though her curiosity slowly turned to concern as she looked at his rather...disheveled state. "Oh no, don't worry one little bit Birthdayboy..." Leslie dunked a cookie and took a bite. "Suppose I can't call you that anymore can I Mr. Locke." She looked almost apologetic as her attention turned to Wyrmbreaker.

"Evening Wyrmbreaker-rhya." As always she was polite, as she held her thermos up. "Coffee?" she wiggled it at both Garou with a grin as she tried to put the pieces together. "I suppose I was waiting for some sort of contact..."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Contact?" Lukas seems vaguely amused, cutting a piece of french bread off, ferrying it to his mouth. "From whom? The tribe? I'm afraid most of the Garou will only contact you if they need something done.

"You should get in touch with Dani&+269;ka and Ray, though, if you haven't already. You've got complementary skillsets. I'm sure the three of you will come up with something interesting to do."

[Theron Locke] His head turning towards his Alpha, his brother, his tribe mate. All reasons why he is not surprised to also see Lukas here, perhaps he had picked up his presence before he had even entered the room.

"Heh not really, the party only lasts the day I'm afraid. Reality soon finds a way of crashing back down around you."

A nod towards Lukas "Hey" noticing how impeccably groomed Lukas is. Theron would normally be the same, but today he just didn't seem to feel a reason too.

[Leslie Chadwick] "The other kin, I'm not so presumptuous to think Garou would contact me. However, I had thought perhaps the cards I had handed out would have come back around." Leslie took a bite of her cookie before pushing the roll closer towards the Garou. She had attempted to get in contact with her fellow kin several times. "No dice."

Leslie licked her lips for a moment and let the others speak, not necessarily wanting to really deal with things that weren't her purview.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas is almost always well-groomed at the start of his day. He takes care of himself; he dresses with care. It's not vanity. It's something much more deliberate and considered than that: an image he projects. A mask he wears, much as being anything close to human is a mask.

Listening, the Ahroun's eyes are downcast to his plate, his fork spearing a slice of cantaloupe and another of pineapple expertly. "You might have better luck calling Ray or Dani&+269;ka directly and setting up lunch. Failing that -- well. Maybe the kin of Thunder are just antisocial."

[Theron Locke] Theron had his own masks, and he was getting at wearing the right ones in the right circumstances. The Theurge was adaptable in that he could be whoever he needed to be for the people that were around him. Many people judged him on what they perceived, he had heard the rumours. The truth... well that was something far far different.

He leaves the scotch on the table, and proceeds to pick a couple of items off Lukas' plate.

"Or perhaps with everything going on at the moment. People are just very busy" Theron shrugs a little "I know I've hard a fair few things on my plate recently."

[Leslie Chadwick] Leslie sipped her coffee. "Perhaps." she sighed but still kept a smile. "Maybe something will come of it." The suggestion had been given before, and the attempt to work with Ray had been made. But she wasn't too bothered. "I'm sure you're right Mr. Locke, no doubt everyone is busy..."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Precisely, neatly, instantly, Lukas's fork blocks Theron's reaching hand. The Ahroun's cool blue eyes flick up a beat after, pinning the Theurge.

"Don't be rude," he says mildly. There's an order in the pack.

[Sinclair] The Galliard of the Unbroken hasn't been staying much at the Brotherhood. Occasionally she sleeps at the Loft, snoozing on bean bags or the couch or even crashing in a bed once in awhile. Sometimes she sleeps in her car, wherever she happens to have driven it when she decides she's too tired to drive it back. Other nights she's simply... not here. She answers when she's called. She's there in the backs of their minds, the high-frequency presence along their totemic bond, but nights that she actually stays in the bedroom she shares with Theron are few and far between lately.

Which may, in fact, explain why she shows up tonight with a cap pulled low over her eyes and a couple of cardboard boxes that never got flattened. They aren't terribly big, either. Her sneakers are old, and the laces are purple and sparkly, and there's a small button on her hat that says simply, white on black:

angry citizen.

"Hey," she says to them all, and crossest through the common room to go to Room 3.

[Theron Locke] He reaches and is blocked , an eyebrow raises briefly but soon lowers as he understands his Alpha's meaning. Hand withdrawn as he waits for his turn.

Turning to Leslie "That's all you can do. Keep putting yourself out there , that your interested in helping out. I know it can get disheartening, but eventually something will happen."

Then there was another presence tingling at his mind, a twist of his neck "Hey Sinclair"

[Leslie Chadwick] Leslie watches as a someone she doesn't recognize enters, things were getting a bit too...uncomfortable, no doubt all the rage in the room, but it wasn't exactly right to just dart out. She gave the woman a polite nod, and then smiled at Theron. "I'm sure you're right...things will get better." Of course they could get worse too, but she didn't say that.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [sorry folks, had to take care of admin stuff!]

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] They're half-wolf, after all. And while sometimes -- most times -- Lukas is more than happy to share with his packmates, there's a line between the invited and the uninvited.

They're half-man, after all.

Lukas makes no further comment, though; the matter passes as barely a blip on the radar. The Shadow Lord looks at Leslie for a moment as she professes hope for a better future. In the end, he says nothing to that either, instead taking his time to eat his fruit crepes.

A quirked eyebrow as Sinclair enters, boxes in hand. "Moving?" he asks.

[Sinclair] She stops at the door, turning sideways in the arch to look back at her packmates. Something about her is particularly unsettling. Can't be her mode of dress. She's young, she's not rich, she wears whatever she wears. Can't be her physical size. She's of average height, athletic, nice tits and a few freckles across her nose and cheeks. Take a picture and she almost looks girl-next-door.

Except there's the Rage. And under that, or threaded through with it, there's the sense that she's parsing as she scans the room who to submit to, who to dominate, who is a threat, who is prey. Her way of taking the lay of the land gives some people the feeling that they're in the room with a lion or a panther that was caught and caged for far too long and has just been...

waiting.

She rattles the cardboard boxes, though. "Kinda. I started accumulating too much shit when I moved in here. Started getting lazy, too. Time to go back to the way it should be."

[Theron Locke] Theron tilts his head and watches Sinclair "What way is that ?".

He had been missing his roommate, although even when Sinclair was sleeping there, they wouldn't talk that much. And well the last time they had talked the Theurge had been left flat on his back with his throat torn out. But still even sleeping, there was something reassuring knowing your packmate was right there.

[Katherine Bellamonte] It's almost a full moon tonight, if it isn't already. Luna at her fullest, invoking wolves and sending the unaware scuttling home before it's too late. For the Philodox Silver Fang, it has not been her best week, or perhaps that should extend toward the prior two weeks to be fair. There had been a tribes-mate to bury, one she had liked, one she had shared battle and many pleasant occasions with. There had been, springing off the back of the tribes-mate's demise -- an unpleasant confrontation to attend to in the form of a Kinfolk sibling.

All this no less than two nights ago adjourned and Truth's Meridian was emerging to visit the Brotherhood of Thieves in what felt like the first time in an age. It was drizzling lightly outside, the sort of barely-present rain that existed only long enough to frizz every female's hair before it departed as halfheartedly as it had sprung up.

I detest this weather, can the skies not decide if they intend to downpour on us once and for all?

This is the disgruntled voice that informs her pack-mates she is nearby, this, and the slamming door downstairs.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Spartan and sparse," Lukas puts in. "The only way to be."

Downstairs, a door slams. Lukas raises his eyes from his late (latelatelate) breakfast, meets Theron's, and laughs silently. Then, on the totemlink, all sympathy: So sorry, Your Frizzy Majesty. I shall inquire about Grandfather Thunder's plans for the weather forthwith.

[Sinclair] "Not quite," Sinclair says, when Lukas chimes in with his own entirely Lordly answer. She laughs, out of nowhere, and when it fades, looks straight at Leslie. "Who're you?"

[Katherine Bellamonte] There's a sense of Katherine's displeasure now, a silent static burst of her feelings on the matter, before her heels sound on the staircase; heavy, solid, she must have been wearing her boots. Sure enough, when the lean form reaches the apex of the stairwell, it is comprised [toes upward] of black leather boots, designer faded jeans and a pale, pale blue cashmere sweater with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow.

There's a coat folded over one arm, and despite her protests on the matter, the blond hair looked as impeccable as ever, the waves falling around high cheekbones and the long slope of the Bellamonte nose. The pink lips however, were still bent in a frown of displeasure, and it did not lessen upon sight of her Alpha, but morph into a great sigh, a testament to the trial of the ages that was Truth's Meridian's battle against in-climate weather.

"You are all entirely devoid of feeling in regards to my suffering." She proclaims as her greeting, and promptly folds herself onto a sofa with negligent grace.

[Katherine Bellamonte] [*shrieks, jumps on table and sprays with disinfectant*]

[Theron Locke] Theron allows Leslie to answer for herself, giving the kinswoman a moment to answer Sinclair.

Few things are certain in this world Kate. I'm afraid the weather isn't one of them A smile shared with Lukas as he leans back in the seat he is occupying.

"Well Kate, just recently I was accused of being devoid of feelings. So unfortunately I may not be of much help" a small smirk playing on his lips.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [ack! don't wait on me! i'm MTing.]

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas snorts under his breath, at last putting his plate out on the coffee table, thus signaling that everything on it was now up for grabs. A slice of Canadian bacon remains. Some fruit. A small wedge of french toast. The hash browns are gone, though, as are the crepes.

"You, devoid of feelings? I'd say the opposite."

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine leans over and takes up a piece of sliced apple, slipping it between sharp little teeth and delicately nibbling on the corner, she shoots an inquisitive look the Theurge's way, her fair eyebrow ridging upward in evident surprise at the Shadow Lord's words.

"Oh, so? Who was the unfeeling creature to call you such, Theron?"

[Katherine Bellamonte] "Aside," she adds with a little gurgle of amusement. "From myself."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Lukas slants Kate a glance, guffawing under his breath. "You are such a bitch," he says -- quite fondly.

[Sinclair] Leslie answers, or she doesn't, but Sinclair doesn't linger long on the kinswoman that belongs to her Alpha. She leans on the doorjamb between common room and hallway, holding those boxes of hers, hat still on her head. It helps reduce how visible the frizziness this weather causes in her hair. She's not the type to go to a salon, or even to keep smoothing serum in her bathroom drawer. Technically, she doesn't have a bathroom.

When Theron mentions the recent accusation against his emotional availability, Sinclair glances at Kate and Lukas, one eyebrow threatening to lift up, but she manages not to let it. She rattles her boxes in the Fang's direction, then throws them into the hallway, where they'll either trip someone's unwary feet up or where she'll get to them later.

She whips off her hat as she crosses over to the couch, jams the cap down on Kate's head so that now the Philodox is the angry citizen, and flops onto the sectional between Fang and Theurge. Leans over and grabs some french toast. "I gotta agree with Lukas here, being 'devoid of feelings' is kinda... like... the opposite of what you are."

[Theron Locke] Theron shrugs a little before he speaks "Depends on your viewpoint I guess. Everyone has a unique perspective of people they know. Perhaps I just showed a different side of myself to that person. Or perhaps Lukas you don't know me as well as you think you do.". He reaches for his glass and takes a sip.

Turning to Kate to answer her question "Oh I had a brief incident with Fabienne down on foreshore of the lake. She was out running and I think she over-exerted herself to the point where she collapsed. She didn't take kindly to my attempts to ensure she was okay. Regardless of my medical knowledge." then he waves his hand as if to brush off the incident.

He nods and shrugs at Sinclair "Perhaps you are right... but I'd rather have feelings than not. I'm just trying to avoid wearing them on my sleeve as much I guess."

[Sinclair] Sinclair makes a huffing noise as Theron is taking a sip of his scotch after talking to Lukas, soft and under her breath. She shakes her head, biting into the french toast.

[Sinclair] Jesus, Theron. Do you even realize how much of a snit you sound like sometimes?
to Katherine Bellamonte, Lukas Wyrmbreaker, Theron Locke

[Kleopas Appius Hugh] It was a night just like this one. Cool outside. Crisp. Almost cold, for some people. As a matter of fact, it was this night. Too far from Christmas for Sandy Claws to be on the roof, ready to stuff small children in his sack. To clear and thunder-less a night for it to be that tree outside come to life, trying its best to come through the window and eat you.

But in this place, it had to be one monster or another. That's the only thing that hung around this place anyway.

The clatter comes from the stairs. A clash, crash, BANG! Something clatters further down to the bottom of the stairs even as the tall, lanky black man appears at the top, arms filled with flat, gleaming metal disks and matte black metal rods. He casts a look around the common room, eyes falling on the gathered there, and then continues past them to deposit everything on the floor in a nearby corner.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Lukas calls her bitch, and receives the brief quirk of the lips in direct response. I know, and I enjoy it, that expression reads, before her enjoyment is briefly blinded by manner of a cap being forced onto her head. Katherine lets out a tiny squawk of protest, her fingers reaching to adjust the cap; and tame unsettled blond wisps -- Sinclair gets a smack to her leg; it's a playtap between pack-mates.

It would probably bruise a regular person.

"Fabienne?" Katherine's attention is suddenly riveted on Theron. "My Fabienne?" As though there were another, Kate. "That is surprising, to me. Though," a delicate shrug. "My tribe are proud people, Theron. The Kinfolk included, not all of us take to assistance from your tribe."

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Needless to say, Lukas is interested. Lukas stares as the vaguely-familiar Theurge appears, arms full of metal. His eyebrows hop up as he dumps it all in the corner. And after the clash and din is done:

"Hi there."

[Theron Locke] Do I ? I guess I'm just in a bad mood
to Katherine Bellamonte, Lukas Wyrmbreaker, Sinclair

[Theron Locke] Theron nods at Kate "Yes your Fabienne, I doubt there would be another. Well maybe not so surprising when I had to splash a little cold water on her face to rouse her."

He chuckles a little "Yes she intimated as much. Though she soon regained her usual composure."

[Sinclair] Sinclair, for her part, has never seen the Theurge coming in with a clatter and a crash. She's heard his name, and decided not to shoot back a Who? in the irritating thread of emails sent around the Chicago GWs. Still: no fucking clue. She thinks maybe she's seen him at moots. She doesn't rack her brain very hard, but she stares over at him for a second before turning back to Kate and Theron. She lifts an eyebrow, that's all, and goes back to watching the unfamiliar face.

[Kleopas Appius Hugh] "Lets see. That one goes there. This one...here. That one goes..."

He was arranging the metal legs, propping them up to lean against one another as if he were erecting a tee-pee. Despite the high collar and the bulky clothes one can almost see his ears perk. His back straightens. He turns...and looks absolutely terrified at the prospect of being spoken to.

Confused eyes dance about until they settle on Lukas, then his brows furrow inquisitively. A thumb reaches around to point at himself and he mouths the word: Me?

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Hi," Lukas reaffirms, adding a small wave this time. He surveys Kleopas's project for a moment, then sits forward. "Need a hand?"

[i'd love to stay and play, folks, but i do have to sleep really soon! early ass day tomorrow!]

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine glances at the Glass Walker crashing into the common room idly, as if it were no great change in scenery to her -- she devours the remainder of the fruit between her fingertips -- returns Sinclair's querying eyebrow with one of her own, and watches alongside her for a beat.

Well, that is until something small and electronic begins to vibrate in her pocket; sending a delicious little tickle throughout her pant leg, and possibly whomever is nearest. She retrieves it, and frowns down at the little lit screen, her thumb lightly tapping down the message. There's a hmmph, and Katherine rises. "I shall return, I must make a call to my financier."

She keeps Sinclair's hat on, for now. Perhaps it makes her a picture, the angry citizen, speaking in low, intent french in the hallway.

[and I am apparently going to have coffee with my parental mother unit, so I'm excusing kate for a bit until I get back! if ya'll finish scene, envision it's a long call about, idk, shares.]

[Theron Locke] Theron greets AK with a friendly smile. The two Theurges having crossed paths when the Chicago's Theurges found themselves drawn to a Church, about to be swallowed up by inky blackness.

"Evenin AK.... another project of yours?"

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] [obviously kate has funds in goldman sachs.]

[Kleopas Appius Hugh] He stands suddenly, bringing two fingers to his brow and setting his jaw in an odd salute that was half boy scout, half half-crazy-Theurge.

And when he does the legs he'd propped up all clatter to the ground.

"Salatations!" He says, pronouncing it awkwardly. The salute turns to gun fingers and a wink aimed at Theron.

"Hold up. I forgot sump'm."

And he heads down the stairs, reappearing later with a metal ring twirling around his finger.

"Hi folks!" he says, as if seeing them all for the first time.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Wait!" Lukas's attention suddenly swerves to Kate as the Fang rises to make her call. "If you're calling your man at Goldman Sachs, I want in."

[taking this opportunity to duck out!]