Safehouse: GW Main Area

Like the public safehouse, the foyer of the Glass Walker's private area is set off from the living room by a four-foot-high half-wall. The steps to the second floor disappear off to the left, mirroring the other set. There the similarities end - where the public area is painted unoriginal white, the walls of the Walker house are a dusty pastel teal above polished maple hardwood floors. A hallway leads back toward the kitchen, pausing at a computer room on the left outfitted with enough bells and whistles to satisfy a small LAN party. At the back of the house, through an arch, the kitchen is big enough to comfortably allow two active cooks and boasts a half-sized refrigerator and full pantry in addition to the usual stove/fridge/sink combination. A dining room, nearly as large as the kitchen, is set off by another half-wall like the one in the foyer. The furniture throughout the house is in better condition than next door, though only a few pieces are close to new.

Stairs in the foyer lead up to the second floor, while a doorway tucked under the curve of the stairs heads down to the basement. A heavy door in the foyer with a monitor and intercom beside it goes back to the area set up for communal use by the Sept's Garou.

Sometime last night, before retiring to the room upstairs, Thomas had gotten his things out of the neutral-brown, road-worn sports car that he drove up in. He slept like the dead (well, the restless dead) until mid-morning... an ungodly late time to be getting up, for him. By now, though, he's up and showered (though not shaved) and dressed and all that, and is, currently, standing in the living room and looking out one of the front-facing windows, hands buried in his pockets and expression pensive.

Nat's little green truck comes up the driveway and parks, dumping the Elder onto the concrete. She heads for the front door; moments later the security door into the Walker half opens to admit the woman. She's dressed in heavy-duty work clothes under her zipped bomber, and a faint band of red across her forehead speaks of previous hard-hat wearing. As the door closes behind her she spies Grey and her chin comes up. "--You're awake. Good. Suppose you slept like crap as usual?" Her voice is light, though there's an undercurrent of tension; she also looks as though she didn't sleep well, though she's no where near as drained-looking as he.

Grey glances over as she comes in, and though he doesn't look as ragged as he did last night, it'll take more than one night's sleep to bring him back to normal. The darkness under his eyes is especially prominent. He turns away from the window with a shrug and replies, flatly, "Some things never change."

Natalie snorts as she unzips her coat. "Ain't that the truth. So. Have you eaten?" She continues to watch him as she wriggles free of the bomber, as if he were a particularly interesting biological specimen.

Grey's jaw tightens at the continued stare; he doesn't squirm, but he does seem tense and uneasy under it. His gaze shifts away from her, toward a lamp. He nods in answer to her question. "Give Rina half a chance, and she'll bring enough to feed an army."

"She'll bring it for you, you mean," Nat corrects, turning to hang up her coat on one of the free pegs. "I think I've seen her all of... four times? since you left. No, only three, I think. Did you call her last night, or was she just a damn lucky guesser?" With a little jerk of her head she tosses him toward the kitchen, though she pauses to unlace her work boots before padding, sock-footed, down the hall.

Grey seems to take the reply as an accusation, and his mouth thins out. Obediently, he precedes her into the kitchen. "I called her," he admits. "Right after I got off the phone with you."

"Well, there's that little mystery solved," Nat drawls dryly. The kitchen still smells faintly of bleach - as it has done all morning, though not last night. "And only three more new ones this morning. Such a deal." She drops a nod toward the little pile of paper on the counter under the empty beer bottle as she crosses to the fridge to investigate its contents. "Any idea what the hell any of those mean?"

Grey glances at it, though not closely, and shakes his head slightly. "No idea. I didn't hear anything last night."

Natalie says, "You and me both. So." She pulls the forsaken plate of pizza out - again - and sets it on the counter before diving back into the fridge for a can of Coke. "What did you think of Kevin?"

Grey leans up against the halfwall and folds his arms across his chest. "Seemed fine. I didn't get to speak to him more than an introduction, though." He hesitates a beat, then asks, with pessimistic dread, "How'd Joshua end up?"

Natalie eyes him with wry amusement as she peels back the layer of plastic from her lunch. "And you accuse me of wanting to go straight to the point. He's a damn Ronin. Cockroach tossed him out on his ear in a nice big splashy way."

Grey grimaces. He doesn't look at all surprised, but he doesn't look at all happy to be unsurprised. "Told him it would happen. Somehow." He brushes overlong hair away from his forehead in an absent-minded gesture. "I hear that Cat's gone, too."

"Give a Galliard a chance," she replies, sliding the plate into the microwave and rescuing the topmost slice before punching the keypad. "This is going to take a while. Sure you don't want anything?"

Grey, rebuked, crosses his arms over his chest again and shakes his head. "I'm sure."

Thus encouraged, Nat launches into the whole sordid tale of what's been going on with the tribe since the Philodox left just under a year ago: Leala's Challenge, and subsequent disappearance. Cat and Tony disappearing. Jon's arrival. Marcus's arrival, Challenge, and disappearance. Joshua's ejection from the tribe in front of a large portion of the Sept, including the Alpha. "--She refused to consider running Lone Wolf on him, you know," she adds, licking a bit of tomato sauce from one finger. "Even after he turned all but feral. That damn Wendigo's still got him in her pack, working as a Guardian of all things. Even after all that." Tu's arrival. Scratch's arrival, and his aborted departure. His real departure, just over the weekend. "...And then there's the cubs."

Grey absorbs it all like a very grim sponge. He shakes his head a couple of times, and his jaw tightens more than once, but he offers no interruption and spends most of the datadump gazing moodily at a spot somewhere near the floor.

Natalie continues throughout lunch, alternating story with pizza and less frequently, sips of pop. How the Dominion was lost once Leala left and stopped payments. How Jon helped her find this place, and how the last few months have been non-stop remodeling action. Chaney the lupus cub. "--Sent her back to Minnesota because I couldn't train her properly. Not... not the way I wanted to." Lucas, the lost cub who turned to the Shadow Lords. "Whined because I wouldn't hold his hand or spend all my life out at the damn farm." Saul, who was around at the same time as Chaney, but who died on his Rite of Passage about three weeks ago. And now, "Kevin. Damn fine kid. We're lucky to have him. I just hope I manage to get him through his Rite. It'll make a nice change."

Grey grunts. "Even better if he stays around afterward. I know that Rite, by the way."

Natalie studies him from her spot leaning against the pass-through counter between kitchen and dining room. "--Good. So do I." The last of the pizza crust disappears into her mouth; she carries her empty plate over to the dishwasher. "You left me with a hell of a lot of surprises, Thomas. You deserved every millisecond of last night's little greeting."

Grey rubs his jaw, remembering. "I know. To be honest, I was expecting worse."

"If you come over here," she invites pleasantly, "I'll knee you in the balls." She offers him a little smirk before retreating to her spot, and her Coke can. "Ebony, for instance... that little surprise nearly got me my very own throat ripped out by one hella pissed off Adren Philodox Alpha. It's not every Cliath that gets to say that."

Grey may have a martyr complex, but he doesn't take her up on the offer of testicular abuse. The mention of Ebony draws forth a tight grimace. "No, I suppose not."

Natalie says, "So." She leans on the counter again, studying him. "Any other little time bombs I don't know about, Holds-His-Tongue? Just here in St. Claire for now; we'll get into the rest of your story later."

Grey's hand comes up to rake back through his hair and then rub the back of his neck. He thinks for a moment, lips thinned, then says, "There was another vampire in town before Ebony. He agreed not to make any trouble in return for being left alone, but he left town long before Ebony got turned." A beat. "Yi claimed, once, to owe our tribe a favor. Smith knew, but didn't tell me, and I didn't find out until that mess with Renee." A grimace pulls at his face and partially lingers as he thinks on. What else doesn't she know? Oh, yes. "We have a mage on the police force. Nicodemus Dalton. At least, I suspect he's a mage. He could be something other. He helped us with some problem with Wyrm-tainted party drugs and has, to my knowledge, always acted in the best interest of the city and its inhabitants, so I left him alone."

Grey adds, "He's skittish, though. He's afraid of us. I think he'd be upset if he knew that too many of us knew about him."

Natalie lips pull back from her teeth at the Gnawer's name, but she keeps her silence... at least, until Nico's name comes up. "Waitwaitwait. A mage." She pushes off the counter, one hand held up for silence, all but quivering in her excitement. "Dammit... I think I've been talking to him. How many are there in town, do you know? Because damn, my mage is paranoid. Says he goes to other towns to call, and only calls from pay phones. Uses a voice synthesizer, too."

Grey frowns. "There was Dana," he says slowly. "Kin to the Children. Or the Wendigo. Who was going to marry some Silver Fang, once upon a time." His voice remains flat, offering little editorial comment on that. "Another, a rogue, named Carter that Smith kept trying to hunt down and never could. Those are the only ones I know of who might still be in town. The problem with them is that they're damned hard to detect."

A pleased little smile curls the Galliard's lips. "Oh, frabjous day. Dammit, Thomas, I think you've solved my little problem. See, David - that's what I call 'my' mage - brought in a pal to help fix a few things. Turns out this pal was Wendigo kin. That must have been this 'Dana'. And unless I'm completely whacked in the head, it sounds like Dalton is my David." She pauses, eyebrows drawing down, gaze turning inward. "Huh."

Grey takes in Natalie's brainstorm with a singular lack of enthusiasm. "Could be. Carter didn't sound like the paranoid type. And Dalton is definitely... over-cautious."

Natalie's smile broadens. "Well," she says, looking and sounding like the proverbial cat with the canary, "Now there's another card in my hand. And for that, I'll forgive you a hell of a lot. --So what did you and Rina talk about, after I took my shell-shocked self off to bed? And what'd Kevin say? --Did you see that weird note, by the way? It looks Norwegian, I think. Dunno, though, not for sure. Might have to ask Gunnar."

A distinct touch of bitterness passes across the halfmoon's lean face. "We didn't talk about anything," he says tersely. "Rina and I. Not really. She was upset." He grunts. "Didn't get more from Kevin than an introduction, but all things considered, I wouldn't blame him."

Natalie's elation shifts to curiosity. "Upset? About your story?"

"She knew about Lara and I," he answers, naming the mysterious and enigmatic Metis for the first time. "She was probably hoping it would work out somehow." He huffs out a breath. "And she has an overinflated sense of my worth. So, yes. She was upset."

Natalie snorts derisively. "More like she doesn't understand the Litany." She tilts the Coke to her mouth, aiming a pointed look toward the other Cliath as well. "--Look," she adds once she's lowered the can, "Let's get this out, right here and now. Hell yeah, I'm angry at you. Both for hightailing it out of here when I needed you, dammit, and because of the reason for it. There's nothing wrong with Metis by themselves, but the Litany's there for a reason, and it's the number one rule. I'm not going to punish you - I think you've been punished enough for it. You screwed up, you took your lumps. Now I need you here, with me, not... not thinking about her all the time. Gaia knows I'd be maudlin about Jon," and this is the first time she's mentioned any sort of relationship with the Kin, "but get over it, Thomas. Pull your head out of your ass and give me your best. We're going to have enough of a ding with a known Charach in the tribe; I don't need you going out of your way to handicap us further. All right?"

Grey's jaw tightens during this speech, especially when she mentions the Litany; his teeth clench as though biting back words. At the end of it, he nods tightly, still looking more at the floor than at the Elder.

Natalie and Thomas are back in the kitchen; Nat's a few steps from the counter between the kitchen and dining room, while they very maudlin and sulky-looking Philodox stands about ten feet away, scowling at the floor. "Good," she says, nodding once, sharply. "Now. Do you have any other... things that need to be said? Or ideas about those?" a nod toward the pile of notes. "Or questions for me? I've given you the basics of tribe since you left, but you probably know squat-all about what else has been going on."

From upstairs there is a heavy and rather sickly thud.

Grey pulls back on his anger, swallowing it with difficulty, and makes an effort to compose himself. His arms unfold, and his hands vanish back into his pockets. "Hardly know where to start," he begins, and then glances upward, hearing the thud.

"Like I tell Kevin," Nat says blithely, "There's a big red button on my forehead. Just give it a push." "--What?" she follows his eyes toward the ceiling, though she's plainly looking for problems on the ceiling, and not past it.

After some seconds' silence, footsteps may be heard descending the staircase from above. Very slow footsteps. Almost zombie pace, for those who watch such movies.

Grey, naturally, does not assume that the safehouse would be infested with zombies, so turns back to Natalie. "Any changes within the caern, or the Sept as a whole?"

Natalie frowns at the unblemished ceiling, but turns back to Thomas, apparently not noticing the dragging footsteps. "Megan-rhya's still Alpha. Um... Seeker is Warder, though I rarely see him. The Wendigo have packed together with the Ronin and are guardians, and their elder has a stick up her butt. Um... Huh. Lessee. Olga's still Gnawer Elder, there's a new Fang in town who's their Elder. Signe... oh!" Her face lights as she lifts it to him. "Signe's Challenging Megan for Adren. She has to carry a baby to term - and she's pregnant, thank you for asking - and organize a raid on the hospital."

When the footsteps finally reach the foot of the stairs and the door swings slowly open, what is revealed is, indeed, not a zombie. It's Kevin. That said, he looks little better than a zombie. His face is paler and his eyes are more hollow even than they've been over the previous week or two, and he walks in a slow, shambling gait. Every step he takes seems to cause him pain, if the wincing that movement elicits is any signifier. He focuses blearily on the two adult garou and mumbles something that's quite incomprehensible, though sharp ears might detect that it ends in "-rhya".

Grey grunts. "Good for her. Havoc still going, then?" Mismatched eyes flick over toward Kevin, and he lifts an eyebrow slightly at the faux-undead state of the boy.

"I'm Beta," Nat agrees with a smug little smile. Anything else she'd add is cut off by Kevin's entrance: she stares at him for a heartbeat before blurting, "What the hell happened to you?"

Kevin props himself up on the half-wall and takes a few deep breaths. "I feel... dreadful," he says succinctly, and a little more comprehensibly. No kidding. He looks like death warmed up, but not warmed up much.

Grey gives the cub a critical look-over, frowning, but offers no comment.

"C'mere," Nat orders, gesturing him closer even as she takes steps to close the distance between them. For now Grey drops from her attention; it's all focused on the cub. "What's the matter? You feel sick? You look about as good as Thomas does, and he gets crap for sleep."

Kevin hesitantly releases his grip on the wall, takes a few steps towards Nat, then veers off in the direction of the sink. "Hang on," he gasps as he clutches that fitting, eyes closed. One might suspect him of being about to vomit, but he doesn't. After a few seconds he reopens his eyes, grabs a glass, fills it with water and drinks it thirstily, right down in one. Thus fortified he looks at Nat again. "Oh dammit, my HEAD..."

Grey shakes his head slightly. Vaguely restless, he prowls around the half-wall and into the dining room, staying within hearing distance.

Natalie trails after the cub like a worried den-mother and hovers over his shoulder. "--What? What your head? What the hell's going on, Kevin?"

"Aches like I got hit by a thunderbolt," comes the British boy's reply. "Is there any aspirin in the house?"

"You don't need..." Nat begins, frustration beginning to clamber over her worry. "Talk to me, Kevin. Why do you look like something the cat brought up?"

Kevin gives an eloquent shrug, then shudders as though he regrets the generosity of his bodily movement. "Beats me. I was feeling okay last night. Practiced shifting up in the bunkroom, came down late and met..." he gestures at the lurking figure of Thomas. "Ate some of Rina's lasagne, went up to bed... and woke up feeling like this."

Grey glances up from his study of the dining room table. "I had some of the same lasagne," he remarks.

Natalie looks between the two of them, her gaze lingering on the man for a moment. "--You didn't... shift or anything, did you? Last night?"

Kevin hesitates for a moment to make sure he's the one being addressed. "Not after I came down for food," he avers.

Natalie turns back to Grey, expectant.

Grey shakes his head. "Went straight to bed. No shifting."

Kevin shakes his head. Very cautiously. "I don't think it was the lasagne."

"Well, that's not it," Nat says with a frown. She takes a peek out the nearest window, then adds to Kevin with a nod, "But just in case, shift up to Glabro." While the boy's doing that she turns back to Grey, eyebrows knitted. "And you ate supper and went to bed too, right? Well, this morning I wake up to a pile of dead rats in the kitchen, courtesy of Rina and a note in... Gaia only knows what language. I'm going to assume that you didn't write it?" She heads back to the pile of papers under the empty beer bottle and, after a few seconds of paging through the sheets, extracts the gibberish-covered one.

Kevin leans on the wall, trying to focus his dissipated energies enough to shift. Natalie's words, though, distract him. "Rats...? Language...?" he mutters as though he doesn't comprehend the words.

"I didn't write it," the Philodox confirms flatly, stepping closer to the half-wall but remaining on the dining room side of it.

"Shift," Nat spits at Kevin, enunciating the 't', before taking the note over for Grey's perusal. "Well, I sure as hell didn't write it. And I don't think Rina did... could be wrong, though. Ought to compare handwriting to be sure. And Tu wasn't here last night, and Jon assures me it'd take C-4 to get through the door." Which leaves... Slowly her head cranks around to study Kevin. Dispassionately, almost.

Kevin closes his eyes and his body bulks out as he gains his aim of Glabro, exchanging one unattractive look for another. He shivers once or twice, not seeming to notice the keenness of the galliard's eyes upon him.

A burly, hulking figure, well over six feet high and topped with a shock of dark hair atop a face with hostile intent carved in its features. Between the face and the strongly muscled body, the general impression is of a thuglike man, not one to meet in a dark alley by night. His hands and feet in particular appear huge even for one this size, and his fingers curl as though they cannot wait to be doing some mischief.

Grey accepts the note from Natalie, but only looks briefly at the writing. He hands it back to her with a comment of, "Looks Germanic. I'm not a linguist, though."

"Norse," Nat says absently, watching the cub's transformation. "--Getting better, kiddo. C'mere and take a look at this." 'This', of course, is the note which she flips at him.

Kevin relinquishes his support on the half-wall for a second time within mere minutes, and still looking very much below par, c'meres and takes a look at 'this'. His already furrowed brow creases some more. "Not mine," he says succinctly, then frowns. "...Nah."

"Rina doesn't know Norse, far as I know," Grey offers up, dispassionately. "Doesn't look like her handwriting, either."

Natalie scowls at the note as though it's the source of all frustration before dropping it onto the counter. "Well damn. Maybe... damn. I'll have to ask our boarders next door. Maybe one of them asked Rina to drop it off, or something."

"We have boarders? Boarders, plural?" Kevin asks. "Not just Emma?"

Grey folds his arms across his chest, his attention tennis-ing from Elder to cub and back again.

"Couple other Cliath," she explains succinctly, still eyeing the note sourly. "They ran into something major, banged them up pretty bad. --Which reminds me," she adds, lifting her eyes to Grey. "There's a girl over there too. Rina thinks she might be Kin because she was dating some guy named Cameron. We're not running a free hospital for Veil Breeches. Do you know who this Cameron might be?"

"Hence the rats?" Kevin is still speaking, it seems, in as few words as he can get away with.

"Fianna Theurge," the Philodox says blandly, answering Natalie. "Rited during the Dancer invasion a few years ago, but he's been gone for a while now. Packed with Aubrey and Tobin for a while, in Crescent Wing. Founding member, in fact."

Natalie answers the cub, "I have no idea what's up with the rats. But note for the future: the next dead body in my kitchen, and whoever left it there will eat it." Grey's info gets a thoughtful, "Huh," and a nod. "Well, there's more in favor of this girl getting to live. Could you wander over there later, see if you recognize her?"

Grey purses his lips and nods once. "Very well."

Kevin's face twists and for another second he looks once more ready to toss his cookies. "Please," he says to Nat in heartfelt tones, then seems to veer onto another track of thought. "...I wonder if Scratch is okay. Mebbe it's some after-effect of our night out."

"Scr..." begins the Galliard, turning on the boy only to pause, brought up short. "Scratch is gone," she continues evenly. "He left Saturday night."

"Yeah, I know," Kevin responds curtly. "But that doesn't mean he's not necessarily got a bug of some kind if we both picked it up Friday night." How tetchy the cub seems at the subject.

"Ought to check him for Wyrm," Grey points out, mismatched eyes tracking from the cub to the Elder. "Just on the safe side."

Natalie's temper is fraying, slowly and steadily. "Don't know it," she answers Grey, though her eyes remain on Kevin. "And if you had 'a bug', being in Glabro would fix it."

Kevin directs a laser-beam glare at Thomas, heedless of the disparity in their status. Yup, very tetchy today. "Pardon me for trying to make helpful suggestions," he growls.

Grey's upper lip wrinkles back away from his teeth in a way that's more lupine than human, answering the cub's glare with one of his own.

Natalie glances between the two, but keeps out of their little show of teeth.

Kevin can't meet that gaze, and breaks it by dropping his head. "Well, you got any better suggestions?" he mutters. "'Snot nice to say things like that without evidence."

Grey covers his teeth, but his temper is slow to withdraw. Turning back to Natalie, he repeats, grimly, "Definitely should get someone to check him for Wyrm. Physical illness isn't uncommon."

Natalie says, "Dammit. --You don't know it?" she adds, looking back at the gaunt Philodox, though from her tone it's clear she expects the answer to be 'no'. "We need a damn Theurge. --And Kevin, by the time we have evidence, you could be dead, or ruined. Permanently tainted, which is the same thing as dead."

Kevin takes a long, deep, and evidently meant to be calming, breath. "In which case," he muses in response to the other two, "unless the Wyrm's right here in this house, the only place I could've got it in the last week or more was with Scratch on Friday night. And since the old bugger's made himself scarce, we don't know if he's... affected as well. Though I'd guess it'd take an atom bomb to give him any ill effects."

"You're forgetting the rats," Grey points out coldly, his temper still simmering.

"And that note from nowhere," Nat adds, pushing herself off the counter to pace a short distance away and punch numbers into her cell. "--Dammit, Thomas, those damn ghosts from the Dominion didn't pull anything like this, did they?"

"Nothing to do with me," is the cub's succinct reply. "Never knew they were here even." He folds his arms thoughtfully. "Actually... I guess I'm feeling a bit better..."

Grey shakes his head at Natalie. "Illusions only. Occasional computer malfunction. But mostly illusions."

Natalie smirks, "So much for you being the haunted one," at the Philo as she holds the phone to her ear. "We're still getting you checked, Kevin. Better safe than sorry."

Kevin keeps his arms tightly folded, as though to unfold them would run the risk of the glabrous limbs running amok and smashing things. "Well, if you think it's the rats," he comments, evidently trying hard to appear reasonable, "you two ought to be worrying too. Not to mention... was it Rina who brought them in, you said? Can Kinfolk get... tainted? And how do you get checked, anyway? I assume it's not a visit to the doctor's surgery and saying 'Ah' while he looks at your tongue."

Grey frowns at the Galliard, puzzled by the remark and still irritated from having to stare down the cub. Rather than ask, though, he just shakes his head and prowls off toward the other side of the dining room, away from the half-wall.

The cub's curiosity will have to remain unsated, at least for a few minutes more - Nat's still on the phone, though silent and scowling. She does hold up a 'just a minute' finger at him, but that's it.

Kevin sighs, and unfolds his arms at last to run his long, yellow-nailed fingers through his mop of hair to straighten it some. The effect on his appearance is minimal; though it's true that a little colour does seem to be wondering whether it dares return to his cheeks.

Grey purses his lips, then abruptly comes stalking back toward the kitchen. "I'll be upstairs," he tells Natalie, and makes good on his word.

Whoever Natalie was calling doesn't seem to be in: she makes a face and leaves a message for someone named Jana to give her a call back, nodding absently at Grey as he passes, then refolding her phone and tucking it back into her pocket. "Cripes. Yeah, Kin can get Tainted. Anyone can. And if you turn out Tainted we'll check everyone else. Checking for Taint is a gift, like that widget I showed you with the staple gun. Usually Theurge have it, but so do some tribes. Some Metis too," she adds, sending a faint frown toward the fridge.

Kevin runs his fingers through his hair again, then stifles a fairly enormous yawn. Yawns always look so much more impressive in Glabro. "Well, if you think I need it, go ahead," he grunts. "Him I wouldn't trust to tell me it was raining unless I went to the window to check, on his showing so far. He's pissed you off, he's pissed me off, and Rina..." He doesn't finish that sentence. "Who in hell is he anyway?"

Natalie visibly bristles, her shoulders swelling in a move that would send all her fur standing on end, were she in a four-footed form. "He," she spits out, glaring daggers at the boy, "is a Cliath. He was also Elder when I came to town. And if you keep snarling at him like that, he's going to paste you and I won't stop him. Submission to those of higher station, and he, Charach though he might be, is of damn higher station than you." Of course that's when comes the knock on the door, loud enough to be heard back in the kitchen, and Nat swears. "Shift back to homid," she orders, and stalks sock-footed up to the front of the house to see who it is.

Kevin pulls a face, whether in concentration prior to shifting or in annoyance at Natalie's putdown who knows? "Respect those beneath ye, all are of Gaia..." he mutters crossly, as he regains his birthform. He does seem to be getting the knack of shifting more quickly; perhaps it's the practice he's been devoting.

Rina looks like twenty miles of rough road, her clothes slept in. "Hey, Nat," she says hoarsely. "Sorry about the mess. Wasn't actually mine. We oughta get someone to look at those... whatever they were rat things."

Natalie waves the Kin inside before stalking back to the kitchen where Kevin is - though it would be more impressive if she weren't only wearing socks. "Dead bodies to the basement next time," she tells Rina, turning to fold her arms at the older woman. "Because I don't really enjoy coming downstairs for breakfast to find carcasses in the kitchen. I had to clean it up and didn't get breakfast, but was still late to the site." "--And yes, we plan on getting them sniffed," she adds in a voice tinged with 'teach your grandmother to suck eggs'.

It takes the Kin a minute to actually become aware of her surroundings--as if the speech was prepared. She focuses blearily on Kevin. "Morning, hon."

Kevin is looking more than somewhat wan and unhappy himself. He raises one hand in greeting to Rina, and manages to crack a half-smile. "Thanks for that lasagne," he compliments her. "No rats in that, I trust?" Natalie he says no more to, for now, though he favours her with a thoughtful gaze.

"Well, I din't know what the fuck to do with them," Rina answers dryly, rubbing at the back of her neck. "I just figured they have fucking implants in their ratty little noggins, and they took down two Garou, so somebody might wanna check 'em out." She favors Kevin with a wan, humorless smile. "Nah, the lasagne was a day earlier than the rats."

"Don't leave bodies in the damn... in the kitchen," Nat snaps back, pressing her lips together after the expletive escapes but forging onward. "Seems simple to me. --And Rina," she adds after a deep breath that tamps down the rougher edges of her temper, "We need to get Kevin sniffed. I don't want you alone with him until he's cleared. We might need to sniff you, too, depending. All right?" Though the last question's really more of a statement.

"Implants, eh?" Kevin ventures. "Now that's a funny thing. Reminds me of that... girlcub, Hope, out at the farm. I don't /suppose/ there can be a link... just because they've both got metal bits sticking out of their heads... Hell, we could end up sniffing every garou in the city at this rate," he concludes with a sigh, which turns into an inadequately stifled yawn.

Rina looks over to the cub, bemused incomprehension on her face. The dark, bleary eyes return to Natalie. "What the fuck, over?"

Another forced breath does little more to blunt Nat's edges, but she still manages an even (if forced), "Where did I lose you?"

Kevin just looks blank at this exchange.

"What's wrong with him?" Rina asks tiredly. "And what the fuck does it have to do with me?"

Natalie tries another breath - the longer exhalation and shifting her eyes off the Kin seems to help more than the other two times she tried it. "Kevin might be Wyrmtainted," she tells the wall past Rina's shoulder. "We're going to get him sniffed. If he's tainted, then it's likely that you are. Or maybe Scratch. Either way, I don't want you alone with him until we know for sure that he isn't. Got it?"

"Oh, per-lease," Kevin exclaims. "Besides, she's already not meant to be alone with me, by your own diktat. Same as Jeremy. Look, I tell you what, I'll just go quietly away and lie on my bed for a while and stop bothering all of you. How does that sound?" He pastes a stick-on smile of dubious veracity on his face. "And if I feel well enough I'll practice shifting some more."

Rina puts up both hands, palm-out, in surrender to Natalie. "Whatever." She gives Kevin a tired, sympathetic look. "Hang in there, kiddo," she mutters. The dark eyes look back to Natalie, dull with fatigue. "I'm gonna check on the girl. See if she's come around yet. Call someone for her, since I don't suppose anyone bothered. It'd be just great for tribal relations if we had a Fianna kin up and die in our house."

Kevin's head half-turns at Rina's last words, but he's already most of the way to the door at the stairfoot, and he evidently doesn't think it worth staying to find out more. The door closes on him.

Rina's dull commentary brings yet another trying-to-control-myself sigh from Natalie. "Well, since up to about fifteen minutes ago I didn't know she was Fianna kin, no. I didn't. All you said was that you thought she might be kin because she dated some guy. Whom I didn't know. -Thomas- was able to tell me more, tell me that the guy actually was Garou, and he said he was going to go over and look at her, see if he recognized her. So if you'd call a doctor, that'd be fine. There's a Coggie kin in Kent Crossing - Emily used to work for him. I'm going to try and get hold of someone so we can sniff those rats and Kevin, and make sure he's all right." As she speaks the frustration drains from her voice, leaving her almost calm.

"Aright," Rina mumbles, raking a hand into her hair. "It's okay for sept people to be on the other side, yeah? I'm gonna bring Cutter t'have a look at her. I'm really worried."

Natalie turns back to collect an empty Coke can from the pass-through between kitchen and dining room, nods. "Yeah. That's fine. I'll... I'll get you a key, too. I'll leave it by the door." It clatters into the recycling bin; she turns and heads for the hallway, choosing an angle so she won't have to move around the kin nor force the other woman to move. "Thank you."

Rina lifts her head, now utterly nonplussed. "What for? Leaving dead robot-wyrmy rats in the kitchen? I'm so lost."

Natalie turns just inside the hallway. "--For calling. I know you don't like me. I'm not going to ask you to do anything. But I'm in a... I'm trying to run this Tribe the best I can. I can't do it without help. I can get obedience from the other Garou. I can't get anything from you or the other kin unless you give it to me." She pauses, then turns to head down the hall again before the other woman can respond. "I'll go get your key."

[End of log]