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Harbor Park -- Fountain

Situated in the center of a large, open meadow is a clustering of six trees, a flower bed, a few steel-and-wood benches set firmly into concrete, and a flagstone courtyard that is dominated by a large fountain.

The fountain is a wide circular pool of water some fifty feet across and about five feet deep in most places. The sculpture in the center is a mix of old and new, traditional and modern: eight concrete-and-stainless-steel slabs about six feet high are set in a rough Stonehenge-like circle around the center of the fountain. Water flows from their tops, cascading in bright mesmerizing sheets to the pool below. Rising above the steel circle is a large marble statue of the Water Bearer, an androgynous figure draped in robes of flowing water. It bears a large jug carved with various Greek symbols, from which pours a seething torrent of water into the pool at its feet.

Cars on the nearby street have an excellent view of the park as do any residents of the tall buildings which line the waterfront.

The murky waters of the Columbia River flow swiftly along the east side of the park. Bracketing the park to the west is First Street and the city of St. Claire. Recent construction work is creating an earthen berm several feet high all along the borders of the park in all directions.

Contents:
Craig
Olga
Joey

Obvious exits:
ManHole Harbor Park Meadow

The joggers are summarily ignored, their existence barely even noted. "'S good," she responds to Joey, eyes slightly heavy from lack of sleep, eyes wandering around the park. They catch ahold of Craig's, again, and she jerks her head towards him. "Hey, come meet Craig, eh?" she tells the girl. "Y'll like 'im. 'Nd, uh..." she mumbles, eyes tracing a speedy retreat along the ground, away from him, to rest on her own feet. She leaves the question of whether he had really deserved it, however, unanswered, and moves off towards Craig, slowly, shoes scraping concrete.

Joey tips her head again and moves towards the man at the bench. "Sure, another friend of yours?" The joggers are eyed as well, "Rude people this morning, I think everyone must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed today."

Making her way through the park, Artemis lumbers, carrying a backpack over her shoulder, eyes glancing about slightly with that typical scowl on her face. Her hair is wet and slicked back, eyes narrowed, trudging swiftly as her boots echo heavily upon the concrete.

Natalie heads down one of the paths from the meadow, her hands stuffed into the front pockets of her jeans. She walks with the air of one who has no particular place to go and plenty of time to get there. The fountain itself catches her eye; with a 'why not?' shrug the woman meanders that way.

Craig finally raises a hand to greet his tribemate, that frown flipping over to a smile. "Mornin'," he calls to Olga, watching as a short argument breaks out between a cyclist and a strolling couple. "What th' hell's got inta th' water?" he adds, nodding towards the cursing trio nearby.

Joey pages to the room: Just an FYI, Joey has her mime paint on still, so it'd be a bit out of the ordinary perhaps.

From afar, to the room, Craig also notes that it's just one of those mornings where it seems everyone is pissed off about something.

Olga jams her hand into her pocket and shuffles the weight of her bag. She shrugs though only one shoulder manages to hunch up for the weight of the big orange thing on the other, and offers a faint helpless "Eh." She jerks her head towards the mime, and explains, "This's Joey," and then her head towards the boy, and explains, "This's Craig." That's that, her work here is done, and she takes a bit of a step back, eyes distractedly moving about.

Joey smiles a bit and reaches her hand out to shake, glove still on. "Hi nice to meet you." All bubbles and daisies this one.

Bubbles and daisies for one, but when Artemis strides through town, mothers tend to lock up their daughters. With a raise of her chin, the proud Black Fury strides easily with her hands tucked into her pockets, rumbling quietly in her throat before letting her eyes fall upon the familiar faces of Craig, Olga and Natalie. With a lift of her brow, she stares at the face painted girl, then angles her way over to see what is up.

Craig accepts the hand with a slow nod. "Heya. Like she said, 'M Craig. So, what's up?" he asks, directing the question half at the mime, half at Olga. Then he focuses more on the mime. "Yer new 'round here," he observes, and is just about to elaborate when a filthy hand drops onto Joey's arm. The hand belongs to Mike, known to those who frequent the park as a local nuisance. The belligerent drunk has certainly been into the bottle today. His normally pungent breath is sour enough to bring a wince to even the Gnawer's faces. "Hey girlie," he slurs, spraying Joey with wretched smelling spit.

The giant orange bag catches Nat's attention first; it's only after she's contemplated the owner for a moment that the woman changes her path yet again to angle Olga's way. Ashley, Joey, and Craig each get a quick, dismissive look before she's at Olga's side, stopped perhaps some five feet away. "Hey," she begins companionably... until Mike decides to step in to the picture. Nat takes a step forward, her hands pulling out of her pockets.

Joey is startled by the hand and grossed out by the spittle that hits her face. "Uh hi." She does her best then to step aside and away from the other, knowing well enough to avoid drunks whenever possible. She glances to Olga for a little assist on this as well, at the same time as giving a nod to the people approaching. "What, are you guys like a gang or something?"

Olga's tired and not very alert this morning. "Hey," she returns Natalie's greeting. "Hey," she calls out to Artemis walking up to the group. "Hey," she greets Mike vaguely, nodding in each of their directions as she does. When the drunkard greets the girl in his endearing way, Olga looks at him blankly for a moment, and then her bag drops to the ground, though she makes no overtly aggressive action. She does however draw a little closer to Joey, a little in front of her.

The Fury picks up her step a bit, eyes focusing upon the bum that suddenly starts to get a bit touchy feely with the younger girl. Despite being surrounded by three Garou, she takes it upon herself to simply come up from behind, like a blood thirsty shark in water. Fingers twisting inwards, she throws out a quick punch to the back of his head, putting her shoulder into it, rumbling in her throat. She doesn't bother to say a word, the fire in her eyes speak for themselves.

Mike, just opening his mouth to slur out another come on, or possibly just to belch, is taken wholly by surprise by Ashley's assault. Instead of speaking, the intoxicated human plunges forward, crashing towards Olga and Joey. As he stumbles, the man burps then vomits, alcohol and bile spewing towards the Theurge and the mime. Craig scrambles to his feet, his arm splashed with the vile puke, and drops one hand into his pocket.

Joey lets out a squeal as she scrambles to get out of the way. Unsuccessfully mind you. Her mouth drops open at the woman behind the event, "That was uncalled for!" She looks down first at herself and the puke on her bright yellow daisy shirt, then at the fallen drunk. "Gross gross! I need to get new clothes now. Damnit!" There is an edge to her frustration that seems wholly out of place with the rest of her personality.

Olga's first thought is for the safety of her bag before the onslaught of vomit, and she uses herself as a human shield, keeping it safe and relatively clean. A brief check confirms this, and then she looks to Joey, frowning deeply. Ashley gets a quick vicious glare, and only then does she looks at her own situation to see herself covered with filth, well, moreso than usual, even, and much more disgusting than usual. "Yuck," is her summary, the syllable low, tight, hard.

"Lovely," is Nat's comment on the situation. Seeing the others swarm the girl and drunk she sticks to the edges, her hands slowly clenching and unclenching.

Not to be deterred by things like spraying a crowd of people with vomit, Mike starts scrambling to his feet again, grabbing for the nearest 'prop' to pull himself up with. That prop turns out to be Joey's leg. He drools, then spits on the pavement as he heaves himself up. Craig steps around the park bench, eyes narrowing as he reaches for Mike's shoulder. "Back th' fuck off," he growls, keeping his tone mostly human.

Glancing down at the downed male on the ground, Artemis leans over and softly whispers in a rumbling growl within the back of her throat. "If I were you, I'd stop kissing the bottle. If I ever see you trying to touch another girl half your age again, I will personally take great satisfaction in tearing your fucking balls off, shoving them down your throat, then kicking them back out once I plant my foot up your ass. Now.." She grabs the guy by the back of the shirt, hefting him to his feet, shoving him forward. "Get the fuck out of here." Her eyes snap dangerously as stares at him, then slowly glances to the others, smirking some at Olga's reaction. "Oh. I took your advice by the way. He says Thank you."

Mike finds himself a little more mobile than he expected, and nearly falls again as he's wrenched around and hurled away from the girl he was just grabbing for.

Joey is in shock over the events of this morning. Her leg is shaken in hopes of getting the guy away, before the violent one hauls him off. "I should have stayed in bed! This is just great. Juuust great." She sighs, letting her arms fall down at her sides in hopes they won't touch any of the vomit. "If you all will excuse me, I need to go change and clean up. Nice meeting you Craig," a nod given to everyone else as she very carefully picks up her own bag and carries it at arms length.

Olga looks down at herself, covered in pasty vomit like a child's half-finished papier marche project. "Yuck," she repeats, just as thinly as before, damned angry but well-controlled about it. She looks up to see Joey leave, holding her arms out, and quickly ducks down to jerk from her bag a blanket, the half-finished one, not her nice blue one. She tosses it over at her with a nod and grimace and a helpless shrug. "Yuck," she says again, looking down. "Fuck," she adds, just for variety. Mike is given no notice, nor is anyone else.

Natalie keeps well away from all the vomit-covered people, her face twisting up in disgust. "Damn drunks," she mutters to herself, adding a, "Charming," for fun.

Joey takes the blanket and looks to the woman, "Thanks Olga. I'll get it washed up and return it to you okay?" She starts using it to dab the vomit off, though her face turns green in the attempt.

Ashley stares at 'Mike' for a few moments, hissing, teeth bared as she growls, then glances over to the Gnawer and the girl. Eyes rolling upwards with a loud sigh, she strips off her hooded sweat shirt, handing it over to Olga.

Craig follows Mike's stumbling footsteps, the frown continuing on to become a slight snarl. The drunk keeps walk-swaying, occasionally looking over his shoulder, shooting those present a dirty glare. When the Gnawer Elder has determined that the man is at a safe distance, he strips off his jacket, empties the pockets and drops it on the ground behind the bench he had been sitting on. A nod goes to Natalie, then to Ashley. "Don't remember if we've met before, if we haven't, 'M Craig."

Craig:

Craig is a lanky teenager, standing at average height. His body is sleek, rather than bulky. Shaggy brown hair verging on black tops his head, and he's quite tan. His eyes are hazel, though that really depends on the light. Most often, they look grey or brown. His features reveal hints of Native American heritage. His nose looks as though it's been broken in the past. The left side of his neck has a messy-looking scar about the size of a thumbprint, and countless scars resembling pockmarks mar his face, forearms and hands. The highest concentration of these is over his cheeks and hands. Stubble is starting to grow in patches around the scars, and it looks somewhat odd on Craig's not quite adult features. The teenager has an odd sort of charm about him, a combination of confidence and good-natured cheer.

His clothes are battered and torn. He's currently wearing a scrubby pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt. A fairly new coat, brown on grey fleece, keeps him warm, and a badly-abused pair of runners protect his feet. His backpack is absent at the moment, probably abandoned in his usual sleeping hovel.

"Charming," Nat repeats, frowning after both Mike and Joey in turn. Craig gets a thorough once-over, head to toes and back again before she offers a terse, "Natalie." Seeing Olga involved with Ashley she turns back toward the meadow.

Olga pulls off her own long green army coat, which has thankfully been armour enough against Mike's spew, though it's suffered dearly in the process. She takes a few steps away from the others and flings it out, sending little bits of the wet vomit flying into the air to land on the snow, though most of it sticks to the coat. "Aw, God," she complains again, voice high and whiny. She takes the sweat shirt offered by Ashley with an automatic "Thanks," though the puzzled look she gives it a moment later indicates she doesn't know what to do with it. The two other women get a distracted introduction as "Nat, Ash," with a corresponding gesture at each of them. "They're folk, yeah," she explains. The departing Cub is given a mere dismissive hand-wave.

Nodding her head slightly, the Fury says with a rumble in her throat. "Artemis Montoya. Black Fury and from what I've been told, a bitch." She says, lips curving slightly into a feral grin. "I saw you at the moot, Craig." She says, then glances over to Natalie, nodding her head to the Walker as well.

Craig gives both Natalie and Ashley quick once overs, then nods. "Aight, then I don't haveta do th' big ramblin' speech. Cool. Nice t'meet ya." He shoves his jacket around in the snow, trying to scrub away the puke. "Fuckin' Mike," he mutters under his breath, shaking his head.

Natalie whirls at the tribe's name, fists clenched again and clearly ready to rumble. When Olga doesn't immediately leap on the Fury she relaxes again, though her eyes are still suspicious. "Natalie. Professional gossip. You all... family?"

Olga glances at Natalie and nods. She still looks over the sweatshirt with something like confusion, but tucks it into her bag anyway with a shrug and a bit of a grin. "We are, yeah, Nat," she says easily. "Craig here's my Elder."

There is a slight snort at the word family, but Artemis doesn't voice her opinion, thankfully. She crosses her arms over her chest and stares at the trio before her, before shifting her gaze across the park. With a tilt of her head, she turns and starts heading towards the fountain, cracking her knuckles.

"Craig Cassidy, also called Snake-Bait 'n' Takes-Chances, Gnawer no-moon Cliath, Gnawer Elder, member of Rough 'n' Tumble, child of Rat," the boy rattles off quickly and quietly. "Yeah, 'M family." He watches Ashley wander away, eyebrow still raised at Natalie's response to the mention of the Black Furies, then drops back onto the bench, giving his jacket another scrub in the snow.

"Yeah, well, I've got info for you all, then." The Walker raises her voice to include Ashley's back, stressing the 'all' ever so faintly. "Maybe you've talked to Trevor, maybe you haven't. But there's... a group in town. Russians. We think they're likely tainted up top, if not down below. Any rate, they know about us. Word from Megan and Salem is, everyone's supposed to be real close about what they know. Don't be any more stupid than we have to." She nods vaguely off toward the perimeter of the park, and the passers-by. "Got it?"

Olga looks up at Natalie, then, eyebrows pulling down sharply. "Got it," she agrees. "Heard from Josh, actually, 'r maybe Tony. Been meaning to talk t' you guys about it." Right now, though, her attention is focused on her coat, and she grimaces once more at it there on the ground. She lifts it once more, and begins to beat it against the bench.

Stopping at the edge of the fountain, Artemis closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath, arms raising upwards until they stretch out from either side of her. Her fingers slightly wriggle at the cool air that blows against her, lips moving in a silent whisper.

"What, exactly, do they know?" Craig asks. "They got names 'n' shit? Places? 'R do they just know werewolves exist?" He scrambles to his feet as Olga's coat smacks down near his face. "'Cause that's kinda... important."

Natalie folds her arms over her belly. "Is this place safe?" she retorts. "If it is, I'll give details. If not, you'll just have to trust me. I can tell you this much: they have faces, and they have friends of faces, including where those friends live."

Olga looks back and forth, eyes passing over the park. "Uh, 's safe-ish?" she offers after a bit of thought. "Wouldn' talk here 'cept in code 'nd euphemisms, though. The Zoo?" she offers, looking at Craig curiously.

After a minute, Artemis drops her arms and actually gains a genuine smile upon her face. Turning around, she makes her way to the group, hands sliding into her pockets as she steps up next to Natalie's side, paying attention.

"Yeah," Craig replies, still peering at Natalie. "If everyone's aight with goin' in there," he adds after a moment. "We c'n talk openly inside th' main buildin'."

Ashley/Artemis:

This young woman appears to be in about her early twenties. Her frame is a bit on the taller side, nearing the height of five foot nine. She is built quite athletically, her upper arms muscled and well developed. She isn't dominating by any means, and one would take a guess that she is swimmer in training, or, perhaps into acrobatics. She could be described as wiry at best. Her legs are long and fit the rest of her frame well, making her appear quick and capable of delivering a solid kick.

Her hair is cut short, revealing a honey kissed blonde colour with a hint of auburn woven through out. A pair of blueish green eyes appear out from behind a few whisps of her dangling bangs that oversee her face. She has an attractive look about her, but her brash mannerisms tend to turn away the greedy eye that lingers too long.

She tends to dress quite boring in a pair of beat up blue jeans and a oversized baggy sweatshirt. Over her feet is a pair of sturdy looking black boots which appear to be steel toed. Most of the time she wears a black hooded sweat shirt with pockets in the front, something to keep her warm during the colder times.

Nat says, "The Zoo is fine with me. I may not have more details for you, but I can clear up what I've already told you."

Olga's jacket is still streaked with chunks, despite her angry efforts at beating it off. She turns to Natalie, and then Artemis, and the Craig, frowning, as if expecting some sort of consolation from then. Finally she asks Craig, "We got some soap there, any chance?" With a grunt she hefts her bag up onto her shoulder, and carries her jacket extended at arm's length. She's still got on a few sweaters underneath that, and it's relatively mild out, so she's not likely to be too cold.

Silently, the Fury just blinks owlishly at the group, hands sliding into her pockets. She looks content in just listening in.

Craig glances over to Artemis. "You comin' too?" he asks, friendly like, before giving Olga a nod. "Just hand soap, but yeah, we got some. Water in th' barrel, too." Another look around the assembled group, then the boy takes a few steps towards the entrance to the park. "Let's head."

Natalie, with a shrug, tucks her hands back into her pockets and falls in behind Craig, about a step to the left and just behind.

Olga takes up most of the sidewalk with her held-out jacket, which she's wrapped in part around her hand to keep it warm, and her bag. She stays quite a bit off from the others, so as not to bother them with the stench of Mike's vomit she's still toting around with her.

"Sure." Artemis says with a shrug of her shoulders as she follows after the group. She slips a knife out of her pocket and flips the blade out, letting the sharp tip glide beneath her fingernails, cleaning out the dirt.

[Travel deleted]

Zoo - Main Building

The doors to this squat, ugly, single-story, 3,000 square foot cinder block building were stolen long ago. The main doorway has been replaced with thick piece of plywood, warped by weather, time, and decorated with the spray painted words "Rat's Home". The plywood covering really doesn't fit the doorway all that well and one can wriggle past fairly easily, to gain entrance to the building.

The entire place is dark, devoid of water and electricity. All the toilets have been stolen, leaving the building's two bathrooms little more then sad stall-filled rooms, which are surprisingly popular with the local rodent population. All in all, there are about ten offices and what used to be a lunch room within the giant cinder block. Some of the rooms have been blocked off with hanging blankets, while other remain open and show a varying assortment of old mattresses, blankets, and seemingly useless junk. The whole place smells of musty, rotting cloth, and unwashed bodies. The only saving graces to this place are the building's roof, which doesn't seem to leak, the windows in the outer rooms, which save the building from being pitch black inside rather than just dark, and the privacy from the outside, fenced off city.

Contents:

Olga

Ashley

Craig

Obvious exits:

Olga's-Room CAfeteria Renee's-Room Cell Exit

Craig holds the creaky plywood to one side as the small parade of Garou enters, then follows them. He glances around out of habit, then turns towards the hall. "Make y'selves comfy. Olga knows where th' clean blankets 'r stacked," he says, heading towards the back of the building.

Glancing around a bit uncomfortably, Artemis easily shows the disgust on her face from these living quarters. Snapping the blade shut with a flick of her wrist, she slips it once more into her jacket, taking careful mind not to touch anything.

Natalie, bless her, doesn't run screaming from the Gnawer's haven. Nor does she offer a truckload of 409 or bleach. Instead she picks a spot close to but carefully not touching a wall and refolds her arms. "You want proper introductions now?" she calls after Craig.

Well, the advantage to the Zoo is that at least Olga's jacket no long smells quite so bad by comparison, though she still holds it a fair distance from herself and looks at it distastefully. "Yeah," she mutters unhappily, slinking her large self through the opening in the wood. "I'll get 'em." The coat is tossed into the Cafeteria for cleaning at a future date, and off she goes down a hallway.

"When I get back. Just a sec," Craig calls from down the hall before turning a corner. There's a muffled exchange, then a strange squeaking-barking sound. He's the first of the two Gnawers to return to the main room, and he's carrying... a pup. A Metis pup. Squeaks-Like-a-Rat is just waking up, apparently, and her long, pink rat-tail wraps around the Gnawer elder's arm as he brings her out into the slightly more open main hall. "This s'why I need specifics," he says to Natalie, taking a seat with the pup not too far away.

Ashley simply stares at the Metis child, nose wrinkling as she shakes her head. It takes a great deal to bite her lip and tongue as she grunts under her breath. Her nostrils flare, fingers bleeding white as they clench together.

Natalie takes a half-step backwards before catching herself, a look of shock smoothing itself down to neutrality. "...I see. Well, first things first. Natalie Baker, called Holds-the-Line. Galliard, Cliath, Walker." A pause. "--Homid. I know of Olga," she adds smoothly, with only a sidelong glance toward the Fury. "And I've got plans, so I'll keep this brief."

Olga returns with a pile of blankets, relatively clean though rather musty-smelling. "Y' can all feel free to use these," she invites the two, dumping them unceremoniously on the floor. "'M Olga," she says, "Gnawer Theurge. Fat-Ripper. 'Nd I'm off to clean Mike's stomach juices off 'f my coat. Fucker." Her steps slap loudly against the floor, and she threads her way out into the cafeteria after her jacket. If she notices the others' reactions to Squeaks she doesn't give any sign of it.

Squeaks flails at Craig's face, the swat intended as a sign of affection, then turns her head to lick at his arm. He doesn't seem to notic, though he shifts to Glabro as they watch. "Aight, Natalie. 'N' yer Ashley, heard your intro at th' moot." His eyes skip from the Glass Walker to Ashley, then to the Fury's tight knuckles. His expression slides to one more neutral, and his arm crosses the mule pup's chest, keeping her pinned to his lap.

"Artemis." Corrects the Fury with a tight voice, rumbling quietly in her throat as she stares at the child, then shakes her head. "Lures-The-Beast-To-Its-Death. Crone of the Furies, Cliath, homid born. Sept of the Golden Wyld." She looks over towards Natalie, deciding to keep her eyes upon the Walker instead of father and child.

Natalie waits until Ashley's made her introduction before turning back to the Gnawer Elder. "Right. So. Russian mobsters. They know of at least three of us, family and kin alike. Salem, Rina, and Cutter - he's a Shadow Lord, I think. How do they know? Y' got me. But I've seen a tape with Salem and Rina on it, getting beat up by Gaia only knows what. The Walkers are looking into getting more details. But for now, Megan says to keep your heads down and ears open."

Olga comes back from the Cafeteria to stand in the doorway, looking in. She looks at Squeaks first, and then turns to Natalie, and then to Craig. "Saw some Russians in a car at the park, once, fightin' with some 'f those katana-wielding Leech-things," she mentions, easily. "'F they don't get on, might be useful, eh? Maybe." This offered, she disappears back inside.

Craig glances back as Olga drifts back into the Cafeteria. "We gotta talk 'bout that, then," he calls over his shoulder. "They've only come after Glass Walkers s'far though. Aight. They got a uniform, something t'identify 'em with? Specific car 'r anythin'?" He pays no attention as Squeaks starts to chew on his shirt.

"Wait a minute." Nat holds up a hand to slow the flow of Gnawer babble. "Katana-wielding Leech-things? What? ...And yeah, only Walkers so far. They found Jeremy's apartment and decided to do some redecorating. They didn't like his lack of bullet holes. But like I said, they apparently know about this Cutter as well. And if they can put two and two together, then anyone associating often with them'll be fair game too."

Ashley blinks a few moments, then sharply asks. "What the fuck did you just say?" Her eyes widen, jerking her head to focus completely on Natalie.

The sounds of scrubbing and vague undirected curses come from the Cafeteria, stopping occasionally so that the conversation in the main room can carry out there.

"I said than anyone spending a lot of time with the people the Russians already know about is fair game for ending up on their 'demon' list," Nat elaborates, her shoulders stiffening. "That's apparently what they think we are: demons."

"No! Who's apartment? Are you talking about that fucking nerd, the one who thinks he's a vampire or something?" Artemis asks with a quick snap. "Sean's room mate?"

"Sounds like th' right guy," Craig tosses in. "'N the katana-weilding leech-things... old news. Vampire cronies, usin' big guns 'n' shit. Nearly hacked m'packmate's head off first time she ran inta 'em. If they're fightin' these Russian guys..."

"Old news to you, maybe..." Nat's now involved in two different conversations, and not looking terribly happy about it. "Who, Jeremy? Oh..." She gives the Fury a slow, deliberate looking over. "You're that Ashley? Huh." The Galliard turns back to Craig for more details. "Who else knows about these vampire-things? Salem told me there weren't many vampires in town. Does he know about this lot?"

"What the fuck does that mean? I'm that Ashley? What the fuck." Slamming her foot around, the Fury sends a bottle soaring into the wall, then starts storming for the entrance. "Forget it. Fucking... " She murmurs, pushing herself out the door, letting the plywood violently slide back into place.

"Oh, he knows," Craig replies, turning his head to watch the raging Fury storm out. "Like I said, old news, though. I've never tangled with 'em, but if y'want, Alicia the Child of Gaia, 'n'...fuck, I think Cutter might've been there too. They both got inta it with 'em. Leeches have a place 'round the warehouses." The Metis in his arms opens up a series of cuts on his arm as she tries to pull herself out of his tight hold.

Natalie doesn't give Ashley a second glance as she stomps off, but she looks quite pleased with herself nonetheless. "Old news to you, maybe. Alicia, and Cutter again. All right, thanks. Anything more you think I should know, or want to ask me?"

Olga returns from the Cafeteria with suds between her fingers, looking unpleased. "'S not coming out," she whines in a high-pitched voice, demanding sympathy. A heavy shoe containing a heavier foot smashes itself angrily into the door frame in protests, and she leans against it, an awkward mixture of rage and pathetic sadness to her features. "Right," she mutters, "so, 's thinking, 'f those Russian guys 're spying on y' all, just let slip where the vampires are. But, fuck, 's your bag, eh? 'M sure you know what t' do." Her eyes wander around, out towards the door, looking at it curiously, perhaps wondering where the Fury went. "Oh, uh, how's that kid gettin' on, um, Kat?" she asks, turning back to Natalie.

Craig thinks over what she's told him. "In case nobody said, try t'stay outta th' Hospital over there. S'fucked up with Wyrm 'n' Weaver shit. Like, th' Sept's been clawin' at it for longer'n I've been around, 'n' longer 'n Renee was too. That's at least four years right there. Otherwise, just th' usual city shit. So unless y'c'n think of anythin', I think that's it." He shifts his arm around to present the pup with another target, which she gladly claws up.

Natalie listens carefully to them both. "Hospital, right. Thanks. And I'll suggest that to Salem, the Russians and vampires, I mean. If you guys hear anything, let me know, right? I'm the only Galliard until Katrine Rites." The cub's name causes her lips to quirk. "She's... in progress. I'm planning on heading out that way later, see if I can't get her back into town. If not, she'll just have to wait on Riting until I've got time to teach her. It's a helluva commute out there."

Olga shrugs her shoulders, thinking on that a bit. "Tony chauffeurs me up there Fridays 'nd we come back t' the city Mondays, y're welcome t' come along 'f you like," she offers, easily. "'S good for her to be both places, really. But's your call, 'f course. We got any Brillo pads, Craig?" Olga asks, quickly breaking off and away from Natalie, already moving back to the cafeteria.

"I got a knife," the boy offers, smirking a bit. "You guys're lucky. I just walk out 'n' back. Takes ferever." He quiets then, contemplating, then blinks. "Fuck... right... Natalie, how should we get in touch with ya if we need t'pass somethin' on? Phone number 'r address? Anythin'."

Natalie says, "I'm staying at the Walker house right now. I've got a cell phone too..." The Walker trails off, then lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "Got something to write the number down on?"

Olga comes out of the cafeteria, one last time, headed for the door. She picks up her bag on the way. "Fuck it," she mutters darkly, as if having to choose, with great regret, the lesser of two monumental evils, "I got a buck fifty, I'll just go t' the laundry. Y' wan' I should take your jacket too, Craig?" she asks, turning back to her Elder. "And, uh, 's nice meeting you, Natalie," Olga calls to the Glass Walker with a nod. "Uh, again, I mean."

[End of log]