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.

With the moon getting fatter, Grey has kept close to home. Not that, these days, he goes all that far in general unless it's the morning jog or to work -- and that only on thin moons, naturally. There's plenty to do around and outside the house, though, what with the coming of spring, so he's not been idle.

Currently, the Philodox is in the dining room, finishing a late lunch and perusing the newspaper.

Indeed. Yesterday Natalie and Cy played Happy Home Renovator in the downstairs bathroom, installing a serious-looking wall safe between the studs. Today she's been mostly puttering around in the basement, where the high-pitched whine of a drill's wafted up sporadically, along with the smell of hot metal and rock.

Footsteps come up the steps after several moments of silence, then Nat pushes the door open and heads back to the kitchen, kicking the door absently closed behind her. She's lightly covered in rock dust, her hair dull and lifeless from the stuff.

Grey glances up from the editorials page. He watches her for a moment, his expression bland, and then asks, quite suddenly, "Why the bathroom?"

Natalie says, "Huh?" She turns, surprised but not startled, and continues over to the sink for a glass of water. "I figured it was safest. I don't want it in the living room; too many eyes to see in. That cuts out back here, too. That leaves the computer room, hall, and bathroom. Hall's too trafficked."

Grey purses his lips, then nods. "Just seemed... odd." He shrugs, gives the newspaper another glance, then looks up again. "Did I mention to you that Jacinta stopped by again? A few days ago?"

Natalie looks over to frown at him, slapping off the faucet, then turning to lean back against the counter. "No. Don't think you did. Was that a night I was on patrol?"

"I think so." He combs his hair back away from his forehead with his fingers. As usual, it falls back almost immediately. "She wanted me to mediate between her and you." His mouth twists, rueful, a touch bitter. "I agreed, until she mentioned that Megan was involved."

Natalie says, "Hmn," and takes a swig from her glass before giving a proper reply. "--That's why I didn't ask you to do anything with it. Megan told me that she was going to run the Rite of Contrition for us both, and make it a formal apology. There's no way in hell I'd step on her toes over it."

"Ah. So it is going to be settled between you two?" asks Grey.

Natalie nods over the rim of her glass. "Yup. As soon as Megan says frog. I might ask you to sit between her and me and translate, though. Before Megan, I mean. Did I tell you about her Challenge?"

Grey just shakes his head at this. One hand remains on the newspaper, which remains open though ignored next to his crumb-scattered plate.

Natalie grimaces and studies the bottom of her waterglass for a second. "She has to... how did she say it. She has to live in the city for two months and work as a Fostern Ahroun for both the Gnawers and the Walkers." Another grimace for whatever she found there and the woman places the glass on the counter at her side. "So I told her I didn't have anything for her, but I'd think about it, and to give me a way to contact her. She said no because she couldn't trust me, and that's when I gave her her marching papers. I have no idea what goes on in that woman's head. Everything she says is so damn deadpan. I can't tell if she's thinking about a nice sandwich or how to best gut me." A shake of her head and she retrieves her glass, holding it in both hands. "She's just so damn... insulting."

There's a faint rustle of newspaper as Grey's fingers absently go tap-tap against it. After a moment's mental debate, he says, "I don't think she means to be. And she doesn't understand you, either. She doesn't know how to talk to you."

Natalie pushes off the counter to pace the width of the kitchen, leaving her glass behind to better wave her hands. "How hard can it be to talk to me? Hell, for a Minnesotan I'm practically an open book. I say what I mean and don't try to hide it. If I'm happy, you know it. That's how it works. I don't say one thing and mean another, like some damn Shadow Lord."

Grey grunts. "I don't know. She's a Wendigo, and she's grown up in a difficult culture. Different human culture." He sits back in his chair, folding his arms. "I don't know what to tell you, apart from the fact that apart from not being able to understand you, Jacinta doesn't trust you with her kinfolk. More than that..." He shakes his head.

Natalie snorts, whirls on him. "Yeah. And isn't that just charming. Last time I talked to her she was all, "Yeah, I used to think you were Honorable, too bad I had to change my mind." Which is a great way to ask for help from someone for a Challenge, let me tell you. Made me all warm and fuzzy and see the error of my ways damn quick." Derisive snort, and she folds her arms too.

Grey rubs the scarred area around his dead eye, head leaned forward enough that his overlong bangs obscure his eyes. He definitely needs a haircut. Not that he's likely to get one. "Why didn't you tell her about Harold's... activities?" His tone isn't accusatory at all.

Natalie's chin jerks up at the kin's name; she takes a few long seconds to respond, watching him bemusedly all the while. "--I forgot, to be honest. Just plain forgot. I figured Ha... the kin would tell her, but he didn't, but that's not an excuse. I screwed up. And admitted it to her too, when she called me on it."

Grey looks up, eyebrows lowered, brow furrowed. "Do you remember what was said?"

"Exactly?" she asks, then shakes her head. "No. Not exactly. Pretty d... pretty close, though. Or at least, what I remember as close after all this time." She crosses the room to lean on the wall between kitchen and dining room, temper temporarily soothed - or at least repressed.

Grey folds his arms across his chest again, looking broody as he watches her. "What happened after you admitted that you'd made a mistake?"

Natalie grimaces again, nose wrinkling, and drops her head so she can scratch at her scalp without lifting her elbows from the wall. "Uh... crap. I don't remember. I think she told me to stay away from him, and to... cripes. Yeah, I think that was when she told me I had to trot out to the woods to check with her every time he sneezed in my direction, or I wanted to call him to ask him a question."

Thump-thump-thump-thump. Whoever's coming down the stairs is doing it heavily, and angrily.

Grey grunts. He looks down at his plate, then closes the newspaper and stands up, taking both plate and glass into the kitchen to the dishwasher. "I know that you're both straightforward, honorable Garou, so this sounds like a communication problem more than anything." The dishes already in the washer rattle slightly as he adds to the load and closes the door. Whatever else he might have said is lost at the sound of Angry Thumper; he looks sharply up and in the direction of the stairs.

Natalie turns to follow him as he moves past her, ends up with her hands braced behind her on the wall. "That's why I wouldn't mind a translator. --What?" She looks blankly at him, then follows his eyes to the empty hall and back. "Did you hear the doorbell, or something?"

The thumper manifests as Cy in the doorway of the kitchen. Her hair's even messier than usual, and she looks rather sweaty. Pausing only to scowl darkly as she spots the two older Garou, the skinny girl makes a beeline for the refrigerator without a word.

Grey remains slightly tense, though for the moment he's got a rein on his temper. "Good afternoon, Cy." His voice is perfectly even, almost pleasant.

Natalie doesn't notice the cub's arrival until she's actually in the kitchen. Her own greeting's a reasonable, "Cy," accompanied by a nod, but her attention's quickly back on Thomas. "Yeah. So I told her I couldn't run out to the bawn every time I needed a favor from him, but I said I understood why she was mad. I tried every way I could think of to find some way to compromise, but she kept getting wiggier and wiggier. Finally told me that I couldn't even say his name. I told her I would. And then she insulted me again. I told her to keep her tongue civil, we both went at it, and she throated me. So now she gets to insult me any time she feels like, yay her."

No words from the skinny cub. Just a glare towards the pair and grunt as she pulls open the fridge rather forcibly and goes rummaging.

Grey's mouth pulls into a tight grimace, though whether it's at Natalie's words or Cy's attitude -- or both -- is hard to say. It's Natalie he continues speaking to, though. "And after the mutual Contrition?"

Natalie shrugs again, leaving her hands tucked behind her. "I don't know. I'm willing to give it another shot. That's the point, isn't it? Put this, this in the past, move on from there."

Cy emerges from the fridge with the fixings for a roast beef sandwich, which she lays out on the counter. Half an ear is trained on the adults' conversation, but she seems primarily interested in glaring at the mayonnaise as she goes to work.

Grey nods. Hands slipping into his jeans pockets, he prowls the length of the kitchen, toward the half-wall between it and the dining room. "Got any idea what you're going to have her do for her Challenge?"

Natalie says, "Not... really." Her hands slip out from behind her as Grey approaches, but she keeps a firm handle on her temper. "Something a Fostern Ahroun could do. Should do. I'm thinking of telling her to figure out something the Walkers need, bring it to me, then do it. Plus I have no idea what her city-fighting skills are like. She can't exactly haul out a Bowie knife, you know?"

Grey veers off and around the half-wall, giving the more alpha Garou a decent berth. He's restless, obviously, moving because he isn't keen at the moment on standing still. "How would she figure out what we need?"

Natalie shrugs again, her eyes drifting to Cy's irritable sandwich making in lieu of turning to follow Grey once more. "That's why it's a Challenge. She wants to be Fostern. That's a Fostern-thing to do. Then run it past me, like I said, to make sure I agree, and then go do it."

The red-haired cub chops tomatoes at the cutting board like she was hacking the limbs off her single mortal nemesis. Loudly.

Grey grunts and nods. He pauses a moment by the windows, then starts back, moving like a caged tiger. He stops at the half-wall, maybe an arm's length from Natalie if that, and joins the Galliard in staring at the cub.

"I want to get the attic redone," Nat says apropos of nothing, still watching Cy. "I mean, I really want to get it done. So I can get another bag up there and some mats and we can have a real place to work out some yayas."

Grey breaks his look at Cy and glances sidelong at Natalie. "Oh?"

Natalie hooks her thumbs into the beltloops of her jeans, fingers sliding into her pockets, and nods. At Cy, of course. "Yeah. That was in the original plans for the remodel, but when Scratch took off I had to do a quick reschedule."

The cub's perceptive enough to feel the weight of their regard. With a growl and a swift stabbing motion, she buries the end of her chopping-knife into the wood of the butcher's block with a solid THUNK, and then half-turns to shoot them a glare.

Grey looks sharply over at Cy at the 'thunk' and straightens up, returning the cub's glare with a vicious, angry one of his own.

Natalie peels her lips off her teeth, hands sliding out of their casual resting spots to hang, waiting, at her sides. She challenges the girl with a tight, "Yeah?"

"Stop. Staring. At me." The girl's voice is very low, with a hint of tremor, and her breath hisses audibly through her nose. Both hands are knotted into involuntary fists. Her eyes are wide, trained on Natalie. No averting them, this time.

Grey's jaw clenches. With some effort, the older Philodox keeps his peace.

"Drop your eyes," Nat retorts, leaning forward ever so slightly.

Cy's gaze doesn't waver, flashing darkly. Her entire skinny frame is quivering, now. "Why?"

"You're challenging her dominance, Cy," says Grey, keeping his voice even. "I don't recommend it."

Grey's voice is enough to break the girl's focus--she cuts a look over in his direction, considering his words, before dropping her eyes to the floor with a sharp grimace. The cub stays rooted in place, glaring a hole through kitchen floor, breathing aubibly. She doesn't look at Natalie again.

Natalie snorts out a breath once the girl drops the stare, a nice nasal - lupine - chuff. "I'm... going to go upstairs." She straightens and cuts in front of Grey, dropping him a nod, then saunters with faux-casualness for the hallway.

Grey turns his head to watch Natalie go, then turns a flat look back onto Cy. "You'll learn, don't worry. And, speaking of learning, it's time I took you through the Litany."

[End of log]