Though it's far from either her usual haunts in Havoc's territory or on the north side, it's Regan Avenue where Natalie has chosen to run today. Kitted out in sweats and a t-shirt, she jogs along the sidewalk just at the edge of the curb, leaving the bulk of the concrete for nervous pedestrians. Her path is of necessity a weaving one, since she has to dodge car doors and garbage cans and even the occasional bike chained to street signs.

Kicked back against the wall of the Pool House next to the door is Brom, staring at a map while smoking on a huge cigar in his mouth. Smoke curls up past his lips as he puffs, eyes narrowed a bit as he works a pen against the thin paper, drawing circles, connecting dots. At times he glances up when something catches his eyes, one in particular when its Natalie. He pauses, scowling for a moment, then drops the map to his side and steps into her path as she approaches.

When a wall drops into your path you stop, even if that wall is only, on second glance, a man. Nat scowls up at him, brushing hair off her forehead, then relaxes on making the identification. "Morning, Brom. Do you mind? I'm jogging."

"I can see that, I don't think your legs will fall off in the next five minutes." Brom says with a snort, then holds up a map. "I've been speaking with the others and I figured you should be brought into the loop as well of what I'm finding and what's going on in your city."

"Others," the Galliard repeats blankly, taking a step back from him so she doesn't have to crane her neck so severely. "--And is this information we can share out here, or should we go somewhere more private?"

Brom shrugs his shoulders slightly and glances about for a moment, then looks to her. "I can keep it pretty simple." He says, holding up the map, then motions to the pool hall. "Can go to my table. No one approaches me in there. I already got a rep. I beat the hell out of the 'tough guy' there on my first night for telling me to get the fuck away from 'his' pool table when I was on it for three hours trying to learn how to play the damn game. I even put up a sign on it afterwards, this is my table, not yours." He grins and heads for the door, pinching off the end of the cigar in his bare hands.

Natalie follows after the man, waiting until he's turned before rolling her eyes. "I'm surprised it's open at this time of day," is all she says, hanging back to give Brom first entry to his self-proclaimed 'territory'.

Shrugging his shoulders, Brom grins. "I guess people are willing to drink and chew on beef jerky at all times during the day." He makes his way into the fairly empty hall with only a few stragglers sitting about chatting amongst each other. He heads over to 'his' pool table, where indeed a sign is waiting that says: This is my table, not yours, in big blocky magic marker. He rounds it and places the map down, spreading it out, shooting a quick look about, before turning his attention to the Walker.

A recent 'renovation' to the hall has caused many splinters and embedded bullet holes, adding much to the aged atmosphere. Ruddish stains, dark and ominous even under the lights, refuse to be washed out of the floor. A dart board brightens up the walls with its red-and-black scheme, and a moosehead looks down on the proceedings.

Mounted from the ceiling, a television blares its glaring brightness and noises.

A set of double doors, one locked, the other unlocked at the whims of the hall manager, lead out to the street. Unobstructive doors behind the bar undoubtedly lead to storerooms.

Natalie stalks after him, not looking to one side or the other and trusting to her Rage to keep away eavesdroppers. "So. What's with the map? What's the info?"

"On the map I have circled about six animal shelters, half of them in the nice ritzy part of town, the rest in the bad shit part." Brom says as he points to each spot. "Now, in the shit part of the town, there has been a 'lot' of adoptions as of late and they seem practically empty when its typically over flowing. Now, you have to think to yourself.. the shitty part of town would have the most strays, right? People don't take care of their animals in the ghetto." He says, then taps his pen on the good part of town. "This place is full of animals and hasn't had any over activity." He frowns. "So.. the bad part of town pet shelters." He growls. "Won't talk to me about the activity, they just say they are glad to see a buncha lost animals find homes. They won't tell me if its the same people or not snagging them. Which means either they are scared to say, or just relieved to get rid of the animals."

Natalie studies the map and folds her arms, her eyebrows jumping as she listens.

"So... I see things like this." Brom draws a straight line from the bad part of town to the woods. "Two of the attacks I was in was on the bawn. Mutated doberman's and what looked like a tabby the size of a fucking pig." Brom says, then points down to bridge street. "This is where I saved the kinfolk from three Rats the size of small dogs. All of them were drooling green venom. When the dogs bit me, I lost my sight. When the rats bit me, I was crippled. The cat didn't do much but get me pissed off, but either way." He says with a frown. "I'm guessing someone is testing things on these animals and releasing 'em into the woods, either someone knows we are out there and this is an agent of the Wyrm, or... its something more human and the Wyrm is involved either way."

Natalie considers the map for nearly half a minute, eyes flicking over the various circles and lines. When she speaks, her voice is pitched low, for Brom's ears only. "Or this could be something else entirely. Dogs, cats, and rats aren't exactly rare. Even Dobes aren't. They're a classier attack dog than Pits and Rotts. The pimps with social aspirations had them back in the Cities." She reaches out a finger to tap at one of 'bad' shelters. "Maybe they charge less for their adoptions. Maybe they do advertising on the net. I think it's a little... thin. --I'm not saying you're wrong," she adds with a glance his way, "Just that you need more proof."

Brom nods his head and shrugs. "Still, it just makes me wonder when three of the six places I visited were practically empty, in a part of town that should be over flowing." He rolls his shoulders back a bit to crack his joints. "The scent trail on the Bawn is dead, so.. I went and got myself some extra fire power from a friend of ours."

"Have you now?" wonders the Galliard.

"Yah. You know that bird girl, Val.. Corax that seems to pop up now and then?" Brom asks.

From the way Natalie's face goes utterly still, the astute could guess that yes, she does, even before the Walker nods.

"Well, I told her to keep her beady li'l eyes open. She seems to know a lot of shit and has her beak in a few things. I told her I wouldn't eat her for Thanksgiving if she can get me just 'anything' that I could use." Brom says. "She's ganna fly around in the woods, not the Bawn or Caern, cuz I made that clear and she was well aware she can't be there, and see if she can spot anything from above."

"That might be useful, if you can convince her to give you the information for free." Another look at the map and Natalie nods once, decisively. "You look like you've got a handle on things. Good job."

A smirk touches his lips. "I'm sure there is no freebie involved. Whatever she wants, I'll get it to her, within reason if she pulls this off. I'm sick of being bit by pussy dogs and passing out later by them." Brom rolls his shoulders and nods to her slightly. ".. Uh. Thanks." He says, then rubs the back of his neck a bit, letting out a huff. "Anyways, Signe says that I should go on patrols with you sometime, so.. I'm thinking if you aren't busy or something later tonight, or whatever, I can go with you." What is this, a date? He looks uncomfortable.

Nat says, "I'm set for today, actually, with Emma. But Sunday I go around again. I was going to go out around dawn - catch the creeps who think acting up during sunrise service on Easter is a bundle of laughs. Then again late morning. Where should I pick you up?"

"Well, I am staying with my mate on Montrose these days, except during this time of the month, I'll be at the barn most likely in the morning, then night I tend to meet Emma for patrol." Brom says thoughtfully as he thinks. "I suppose the Brownstone is fine. I can crash another night."

"Brownstone it is," the Galliard says with another nod. "I'll see you then. Thanks for keeping me informed."

Nodding his head, Brom folds up the map and stuffs it into his pocket. "Well, yeah.. anytime." He says, then tugs out his cigar from his other pocket, eyeing the crushed tabacco, then stuffs it into the ash tray off to the side with the rest of its fallen brothers. "I suppose I'll get out to the farm then. I left my sledge hammer there. Don't want someone to take it." He grins, then heads for the door. "Later."

"Later," she agrees, already turning by the time he's discarding the stogie. By the time he's left the building she's resumed her jog.

[End of log]