We'll make them pay.
Friday, 6 May 2016 10:30![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trace_logs
6 May, 2016
The moon is in the waning New (Ragabash) Moon phase (2% full).
The kitchen smells like coffee. Or at least, like currently-brewing coffee. Trace is following what is starting to become routine while he's staying out at Edgewood— wake up late, get coffee going, and pace around the kitchen restlessly. He's barefoot, button-down shirt currently all the way unbuttoned, and his hair is a mess, like he hasn't combed it out yet.
Ava comes down from upstairs in something somewhat more casual than her usual outfit, a borrowed sun-dress that's speckled with water here and there, white and floral. She looks at Trace, pausing, then continues on to fetch herself a mug, some saccharine, and coffee. Only when she's stirred it and had a few sips does she turn around to look at him, her back to the counter.
Trace offers a nod, and then waits for the other to get her coffee before moving over to pour some for himself into a mug that's been waiting on the table. He squints, tilts his head to one side, and then looks down into his coffee cup, proceeding to take a long sip before taking anything. "Hi…" It trails off, some recognition there but not quite enough to put a name to the face. "I'm Trace. Garza. Six-Shooter. Ahroun and Fostern of the Walkers. Only been in town a few days." Another pause. "Don't I know you?"
Ava holds her coffee cup with both hands, her manicured fingers curled across the enamel. She takes another drink, pondering the question, and answers, "Probably." She ducks her head, bangs swaying with the motion. "I am Ava, Quid-Pro-Quo, Fostern Philodox Glass Walker. Before I was here, I spent much of my life at Steel-Angel."
Trace takes another sip of his coffee, and nods. "That…" His voice tightens ever so slightly, "explains it. I grew up there, and was rited there. But," he grins a tiny bit, "it's a big city. So. Good to see you again, I guess."
"It would be better, under… different circumstances." She finishes her coffee and refills the cup. "You did not pick the best time to show up, but, maybe you did. I suppose that depends on your point of view. A lot is happening."
The ahroun leans on the edge of the dining table, though not hard enough to move it, and lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. "Yeah," Trace agrees, quietly. "Pero…" he pauses, then continues. "But if I can make a difference here, then it's close enough to th' right time for me, or as close as it's ever going to get. This place is still here, so."
The front door opens to reveal Briari as she heads inside. Today the blonde is wearing a black shirt, a pair of snug jeans and an olive colored military jacket. "Hey guys." She calls over to the pair as she recognizes each of them with a grin along her face. "I see you two have bumped into each other."
"It is," Ava says. "Some good people here, some of which came from the same place as us." She looks up at Briari and smiles at her, nodding. "A lot of Walkers out in the country today. Yes. I just got up, had a shower, and came down to find him here, and stole some of his coffee."
Trace takes another sip of his coffee, and then glares expressing some discontent at what has become a now-empty cup. "I didn't feel like driving back to the city, just to drive back out here this evening," Trace comments, stifling a yawn. "Not that it's precisely my coffee, either. I found it in the cupboard, I just got it going"
"It's not stealing if you need it." Briari says as she settles down into a chair, then folds one leg over the other. Next, her large iPhone slips out of her pocket and starts to tap away. "I think I broke a world record in Trivia Crack. I have now answered one thousand and twenty six questions in a row without missing one. So what is your plans tonight, guys?"
"It is better to not stay alone anyways." Ava says to Trace. She looks at Briari and smiles a little. "Congratulations. Another late night for you?" She leans back on the counter and folds one lanky leg over the other, considering. "I have no real plans. I might go back to the city. I might stay here. It depends on if anyone wants to go do anything, or if something should… happen."
The ahroun lifts his shoulders in a shrug before moving to refill his coffee cup. "Yeah, well," Trace says, "'Better to' and 'actually happens in reality' tend to be somewhat removed from each other in my experience." He lets out a breath, slowly. "There's that gathering-moot-thing tonight, or so I've been told. Other than that, not really."
"Oh? Is there a moot tonight? I must have forgot to set my reminder." Briari says with a yawn. "Not really a long night, just a few quick hours. I was on a roll. Funny enough, my best subject is art where I though it would be science." She taps away at her phone a few more times, then gives a flicking motion. "Moot will be fun I am sure. Hopefully a lot more tame than last month's new moon moot."
"I wasn't aware. Maybe I'll go. Maybe." She lapses into silence, looking off into the living room, then at Briari. "I can't say I'd have done as well. I never much cared for art, or clothes, or any of those things. Half the time I have to ask someone's advice before I start putting together colors or choosing a wardrobe. I used to have a Kin friend that did just that, so long as I bought her something in turn."
Trace takes a sip of his coffee and goes back to leaning against the table again. "I solved that by the fact that I own about eight of the exact same shirt," he offers. "I think one is even blue instead of grey."
"Ava has seen my closet. I love shopping." Briari says as she swipes the screen again, then giggles. "Easy question. Pff… sometimes I think kids write these questions." As she tucks the phone away, she gives a stretch of her body upwards to pop a few joints. "You guys eat yet?"
"Yes, and I've borrowed from it, among other things," Ava says, with a touch of bemusement. She turns to Trace and points at him. "But mostly, I take after you. This isn't even mine." She picks at the hem of the dress, which is, somewhat obviously, tailored for a shorter woman. "But I'm trying to… diversify." She shakes her head and walks over to Briari. "No. You?"
Trace turns his coffee cup around in his hands a few times. "I'd thought about…" there is a pause and quiet muttering in Spanish under his breath, before he comes up with correct word, "breakfast, but. Coffee was about all I could manage, to start with. Plus, I suck at cooking."
"So do I, which is why I usually order take out. I can snag us some brunch if you want. It's a low moon and they got some cafes around the area that are not too shabby if you want to head over." Briari says as she gives another yawn. "Or we can pull up a recipe on the Internet and try our hand at burning the kitchen down."
"We're all well-off enough that we can afford a lunch, not so much a kitchen." Ava says. She starts for the door, then pauses, as if considering something, then shrugs it off and keeps right on going. "Between the three of us, we should be plenty safe enough. I don't see the harm in a little jaunt."
There's a grin. "Yeah, I think burning the kitchen down, would be a distinctly bad first impression, as far as impressions could make?" he says. Trace finishes his coffee and sets the mug next to the sink, and moves after Ava. "I'll be right back, though. My jacket is upstairs. I don't know about you, but I think it's cold outside."
"It's about sixty five outside. That is hardly cold." Briari grins at Trace. "In Georgia, that would be considered perfect weather. We get pretty humid and muggy down south." Hopping to her feet, she heads after Ava with her usual bouncing saunter to her feet.
"It's just wet, like it always is," Ava says. She looks at Briari as the Ragabash comes bouncing over and opens the door for the both of them, then steps out, her light dress rippling in the wind. "This is why I prefer heavier things," she mutters to herself.
Trace disappears up the stairs as he said he intended to, returning only a minute later wearing his usual jacket, and adjusting the holster for the revolver underneath before zipping the jacket up. "It's cold," he mutters as he shuts the front door behind him. "If this is spring, I'm going to hate winter."
"You are most def gonna hate winter. Snow is not fun. Took me awhile to get used to it also." Bri says as she leads them to her new Ford Fusion, which is far tamer than the Ferrari she tends to take out once in awhile. "What are you guys in the mood for by the way? I can eat anything. They got a cool place that sells breakfast waffles with ice cream on it."
"It is cold and wet, but you can always put on more clothes." Ava follows Briari to her car and slides into the passenger seat, buckling her belt. "I'm not a picky eater, though I do like meat. So long as I can get something savory, I don't care where we go." She looks over her shoulder at Trace. "You can start a fire when we get back, or… Bri could turn on the heat?"
Trace seems to be fine now that he's got the jacket on, though perhaps still a little cold. He gets in the back, shuts the door behind him. "It's okay," he says. "Meat is always good," the ahroun agrees, baring his teeth for a moment in a far-too-enthusiastic grin. "Or whatever. I'm not picky. At least, not right now."
Briari flicks the heat on the dash board as well as turns the volume down which starts to rumble out loud pop EDM music. "We can go get steaks at Longhorns then. They are quick and the food is pretty good for a chain." After buckling, she puts the car in motion and starts down the driveway with a hum as her fingers rap along the steering wheel in time of the music.
"Never been," Ava says. "More of a take-out or delivery kind of person, though it will be nice to sit down and eat in good company." Ava says. She sits, hands folded in her lap, her legs crossed at the knee, idly bobbing one foot to a steady beat inside her mind.
"Hey, they have steaks, so sure," Trace agrees, leaning a bit forward as they go. That, or he's a nervous passenger, it's hard to tell.
It appears the ragabash is a sane, normal driver. There is no blistering speed or weaving in and out of traffic. Humming as she continues to drive, her head bobs up and down a bit. "Steaks it is then. Lemmie guess, at least one person in here likes them bloody? I am a medium girl myself. A bit of pink."
"I prefer well-done, or medium-well, depending on how good the meat is." She ponders on that. "And maybe some sweet potato fries, or something fried for an appetizer, and something chocolate for dessert." She looks down at her dress. "Maybe I should have borrowed something that wasn't white."
Trace grins. "Well, if they have to be cooked, I'll stick with rare," he says. The sane driving doesn't make him any less of a nervous passenger, though, and he taps his fingers on his knees. "I mean, I'll eat it just about any way that it's cooked, but I prefer rare. About as good as you can get without killing it yourself."
"Ugh. I honestly don't know how two leggers can live as a wolf and hunt their own meals down and eat it like that. Yuck, yuck, yuck. Bunnies are too cute to chase down and murder." Briari says with a wrinkle of her nose as she hits the freeway, then shifts gears to a higher speed.
"I was never a good hunter. I seldom use wolf-skin outside of the Umbra, but, I spent most of my time in the city. It's only natural." Ava says, looking at her nails, picking away some dirt. "I've never had want for money. The only thing I've ever had to hunt for was my phone."
"Yeah. Being a spoiled rich kid had it's advantages, but I would die in three days out in the wilderness on my own if I was forced to survive." Briari chuckles as she changes the channel on her stereo to something more 90's.
"Same," Ava says. "I get lost on the Bawn from time to time because I just can't stay oriented out in the woods. Doesn't happen in the city, though, even if it's one that I'm a stranger to."
Trace watches both of them and there's a bit of a chuckle. "You get used to it," Trace offers. "Then again, I spent a good amount of time on four legs, when I was at Western Eye and out in the forest. I don't like it more than a visit now and then, but I don't do badly. And there's something about the excitement of hunting…" That slightly toothy grin comes back.
"I would rather hunt down a Whopper or a burger of greater quality." Briari grins as she takes an off ramp and back into town as she heads down a strip of restaurants. "I can use a compass though, so that helps me when or if I get lost in the bawn."
"I know you can guess which way is east or west depending on the time of day and where the sun is, and… that is about it." Ava shrugs, the shoulder of her dress slipping. She pushes it back into place and peers through the windshield.
"It does get to a point sometimes where all the trees start to look the same and I can't be happier than seeing concrete under my feet," Trace says. "Probably by the time things settle down again, it'll be that point."
Pulling into the driveway of the steakhouse, Briari turns the engine off, then unbuckles as she slips out into the fresh air. Giving a lick of her lips, she breathes in the scent of food. "We should get a table near the back, that way we won't freak out anyone else that may be eating."
Ava climbs out of the car and stretches her legs, then her arms, looking nearly as white as her dress in the sunlight. "Before lunch picks up," she suggests, heading in ahead of the others. She stops at the door to allow them in behind her, then hurries on with quick, long-legged steps to get the hostess moving before the other Garou come in and make things a tad awkward.
Trace hangs back a little bit behind Ava, ducking a nod to the suggestion. "Yeah," he agrees. "Honestly, I'd usually just get take out, or phone it in ahead if I were by myself. No sense in otherwise most of the time. But hey, why not." The ahroun takes a few deep breaths, and seems to be about as relaxed as he's going to get.
Once a table is offered, Briari flops down into it and snags a menu, looks at it for two seconds, then drops it on to the table again, having already decided. "I am getting booze." She says with a nod of her head. "Black and Blue Margarita. Woo! Those are ridiculously good."
Ava sits down beside Briari with menu in hand and echoes the Ragabash's drink order. She sits rigidly, her legs tucked underneath her, and wets her lips with a flick of the tongue. "And you?" She looks up at Trace. "Coffee, or…" she glances at the menu again. "Whiskey? Ah, no. Tequila. You'd be a tequila kind of guy, wouldn't you?"
Trace takes the seat furthest from the walkway, and glances at the menu, reading it for a minute. "Maker's Mark and coke," he decides. "Could have gone with beer, too." He folds the menu back up and drums on it rather than reading it any further, having apparently decided what he wants.
"I pegged him for beer a few days ago." Briari says with a grin on her face as she shuffles the menus and puts them on the edge of the table. The nervous waitress clears her throat and starts to take their orders. She snags a rib-eye, medium with a garlic parm cheese to cover it, mixed veggies and corn.
"I never liked the taste of beer. Too… earthy," she says with a crinkle of her nose. Ava orders just what she was musing about in the car, steak and sweet potato fries, and a sampler for the table to share in the mean time. Hungry Garou with liquor and no food in their stomaches is probably a bad thing, after all.
"New York strip steak, fries." The ahroun's order is short but not intentionally terse by any means, and then Trace angles his gaze towards the ceiling again, waiting until the waitress has moved on and away from their table before saying anything else. "I think I'm about as caught up with everything that's going on as I can be," he tells Briari. "Read the files, talked to people, et cetera."
"Awesome. Now it is time to get useful, huh? I would love for maybe the three of us and Nieve to get together and pull off some epic Walker shit. I got the spy stuff locked down and Nieve is incredibly crazy with spirits. Maybe we can take a poke at the other side of the glass near the tower and see if there is anything we can do about some of those crazy huge banes hanging out." Briari says as she taps her fork along the table in a steady beat. "Even if we do not engage, we can at least create a plan."
"Perhaps. I am no stranger to spirits," Ava says. "Though I am not much of a fighter, or… an investigator. Or the usual Garou things, I suppose. Perhaps sometime soon a new Walker pack will form up, or, someone will start a pack for city folk. Something along those lines that will help us with what's going on and everything that needs be done."
Trace nods thoughtfully, and fidgets with the glass of his drink once their drinks are delivered to the table. "Taking them out would be even better," he says. "But not something that can be done without thought into it first. Though I prefer things I can shoot at, quite honestly, and guns don't usually work too well on banes."
"Contained would work just as well, for the time being," Ava says. She takes quiets down as the drinks arrive and offers a thankful smile, taking some light sips of her fruity alcohol. "If it makes you feel any better, I prefer guns, too. I'm not great at hand to hand, but I know how to handle myself, at least."
The waitress does seem just as happy to get away from the garou's table. Trace averts his gaze from watching the waitress, back to the ceiling. "Yeah. I mean, I've dealt with shit hand to hand plenty. But I'm a very good shot, and it's a lot easier to explain away things being dealt with if it doesn't look like a bear got loose from the zoo in the city." He snorts, citing the cover-up that was invented for his first change and the destruction resulting from it.
A few mouthfuls of bright blue booze later, the Philodox has slouched back into her seat and is anxiously awaiting the arrival of the appetizer. She looks for it, seems disappointed that it hasn't arrived in five minutes, then turns to Trace. "I only use pistols, although I know how to work a small rifle. They're just impractical most of the time."
Trace takes sips from the cola-and-booze concoction and drums his fingers on the table. "Depends on the circumstance," he muses. "But certainly a handgun is easier in a pinch or a quick situation. I need a few more rifles, honestly. Two isn't nearly enough, but it'll do for the time being." Just how many guns does the ahroun actually have?
By the time the appetizer does arrive, the rest of the drink is nearly done, and a second arrives. But she leaves it alone for now, focusing on the myraid of greasy fried things on the platter. "Only one for me, one pistol, one shot at a time. I don't fight enough to need more."
Trace reaches an grabs several items off the appetiser plate without actually looking at what they are, first. "Least you know how to use them," Trace says. "I can help you out with hand to hand skills at some point, if you ever want." There's a glance over to the ragabash, and Trace extends the offer. "Both of you. At the very least, practise helps keep them up even if you don't use them that often. Better than being rusty."
"We can do that, if you'd like," Ava says with a bit of a giggle. "Maybe sometime later. After the food's been… digested." She looks up as Briari heads off to take her phone call, then looks back at Trace. "Most of my hand to hand is based around martial arts. Grapples and throws and holds. That sort of thing."
Trace grins. "I didn't necessarily mean today," he says, as their actual food gets to the table— and the waitress hurries away again. "But while the moon is small like it is now is often better." The ahroun starts cutting his steak, seeming immensely pleased, and then lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "I know some around martial arts. Learned it when I was a cub. Before that, it was all stuff I picked up getting in fights at school. The combination of the two have served me pretty well."
"I never fought much as a child outside of formal practice, or as a professional these days, but… I've had my battles," she says, swallowing a mozzarella stick. "But I know I'm no match for you, or most of a lot of others like us. I just know enough that I'm not a lial- liability," she corrects.
The ahroun offers a less feral, gentler smile over to his tribemate, watching Ava for a long moment. "That's good, though," Trace says in between bites of steak. "There are many things, sí, and they all help Gaia in their own ways." He chews on his lip for a moment. "And different styles of fighting work for different people. I just like hitting shit."
"A balanced approach is best," Ava concurs, somewhere between sips of margarita and steak. "I am fine with not being the best fighter. I know some things that others don't, and I fulfill my purpose. My style of fighting is based around just being able to deal with stronger opponents and avoiding getting caught."
Trace nods, and is silent for a bit while he works his way through a good quarter of his food in a short span of time, before picking up a french fry and fidgeting with it with the edge of the steak knife. "Yeah. Well, that's always a good strategy. And if you can't be good," there's a bit of a mischievous grin that follows, "be good with it." He pauses, and looks over at Ava. "I got that right?" he asks, presumably asking about the idiom that he slightly mangled.
"I think you mean, if you can't be good, be lucky," Ava says. Then she pauses, sips her drink, and laughs, brushing her hair back away from her eyes. "But I wouldn't know. I'm as good at talking with people as I am with…" she holds up her fists and makes a boxing gesture. "I've always heard it said it's better to be lucky than good anyways, because you don't have to practice at luck. You either have it, or you don't."
Trace grins a little. "Oops," he says. "English is complicated." A few bites of steak later, Trace adds, "And sometimes, it's confusing." He shrugs. "Having luck on our side with the way things are going right now?" There's a little bit of a sigh. "It couldn't hurt, that is for certain."
"Spanish your first language?" She asks, sitting forward with one elbow on the table, a coaster stuck to it. "Must be difficult to have all those words in your head, but I bet it comes in handy in the city. I've been places where more people speak Spanish than English, but that's more common in California than here." Ava shrugs and smiles a little. "At least we're alive. We can still fight on. That counts for something."
"Sí," Trace affirms, toying with the last few bites of steak left on his plate by this point. "I grew up one of those places. Learned English later, and in school. Spanish came in really useful in Los Angeles, and even in San Francisco too. And actually, I've been hanging out with one of the Gnawers, a lot?" The ahroun shrugs. "Felix. And I'm teaching him some Spanish. It's kind of neat."
"I'm surprised there are Gnawers that don't know any," Ava says. "It's the language of the city. I don't know any," she says. "Except for 'margarita', and 'tequila', but I never talk to anyone. I am exempt." She drains the remnants of her cocktail and sighs, closing her eyes. "Perhaps one day we'll go back to LA."
Trace's jaw tightens, a little bit enough that the musculature is more clearly defined and visible, and when he speaks in response, it's quieter. "I hope so." The ahroun sighs. "One day, we'll make them pay for everything and everyone that they took from us. One day."
"Here's to that," Ava says, draining the last of her second drink. She then falls on her steak with knife and fork, carving it up and eating it one piece at a time, with the occasional daub of sauce. "I hope it won't be long."
Having been eating her steak and listening, Briari says, "I speak Japanese." She pipes up with a sly grin upon her face. "Some Spanish, some Chinese, some Cantonese, some French." She stabs the last bite of steak and pops into her mouth. "I also speak C plus plus and Java."
Trace lifts his glass slightly in a toast after Ava speaks, and when he puts it down, fidgets with the empty glass. "Me too." He lets out a breath, and some of the tension eases, though it's still practically radiating off of the ahroun in waves, albeit well controlled. "That's six languages I don't speak," Trace responds to Briari.
"Some of them are computer-stuff, I don't speak them either," Ava consoles. She wobbles just a tad in her seat, steadied, just barely, by the intensity of her focus on her steak.
Taking a long slurp off her third margarita, Briari giggles at them. "I was trained in computer language when I was in middle school. I was like… the only girl… there… and I went to an all girl's prep school." She says as she sinks back, then gives another chug off the sugar coated rim.
Trace shakes his head when the waitress looks over at them, placing his hand briefly over the top of his empty glass, and she seems relieved not to come over to their table again yet. "I've always been a little more… hands-on."
It isn't long before the table is cleared of meat and drink, leaving two somewhat bombed Walkers, a slightly buzzed Ahroun, and a frazzled waitress. Ava manages to leave a generous tip, perhaps too generous, and stumbles out the door with Briari and Trace, chatting (slurring) about whatever random tidbits pop into her margarita mind.
The moon is in the waning New (Ragabash) Moon phase (2% full).
The kitchen smells like coffee. Or at least, like currently-brewing coffee. Trace is following what is starting to become routine while he's staying out at Edgewood— wake up late, get coffee going, and pace around the kitchen restlessly. He's barefoot, button-down shirt currently all the way unbuttoned, and his hair is a mess, like he hasn't combed it out yet.
Ava comes down from upstairs in something somewhat more casual than her usual outfit, a borrowed sun-dress that's speckled with water here and there, white and floral. She looks at Trace, pausing, then continues on to fetch herself a mug, some saccharine, and coffee. Only when she's stirred it and had a few sips does she turn around to look at him, her back to the counter.
Trace offers a nod, and then waits for the other to get her coffee before moving over to pour some for himself into a mug that's been waiting on the table. He squints, tilts his head to one side, and then looks down into his coffee cup, proceeding to take a long sip before taking anything. "Hi…" It trails off, some recognition there but not quite enough to put a name to the face. "I'm Trace. Garza. Six-Shooter. Ahroun and Fostern of the Walkers. Only been in town a few days." Another pause. "Don't I know you?"
Ava holds her coffee cup with both hands, her manicured fingers curled across the enamel. She takes another drink, pondering the question, and answers, "Probably." She ducks her head, bangs swaying with the motion. "I am Ava, Quid-Pro-Quo, Fostern Philodox Glass Walker. Before I was here, I spent much of my life at Steel-Angel."
Trace takes another sip of his coffee, and nods. "That…" His voice tightens ever so slightly, "explains it. I grew up there, and was rited there. But," he grins a tiny bit, "it's a big city. So. Good to see you again, I guess."
"It would be better, under… different circumstances." She finishes her coffee and refills the cup. "You did not pick the best time to show up, but, maybe you did. I suppose that depends on your point of view. A lot is happening."
The ahroun leans on the edge of the dining table, though not hard enough to move it, and lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. "Yeah," Trace agrees, quietly. "Pero…" he pauses, then continues. "But if I can make a difference here, then it's close enough to th' right time for me, or as close as it's ever going to get. This place is still here, so."
The front door opens to reveal Briari as she heads inside. Today the blonde is wearing a black shirt, a pair of snug jeans and an olive colored military jacket. "Hey guys." She calls over to the pair as she recognizes each of them with a grin along her face. "I see you two have bumped into each other."
"It is," Ava says. "Some good people here, some of which came from the same place as us." She looks up at Briari and smiles at her, nodding. "A lot of Walkers out in the country today. Yes. I just got up, had a shower, and came down to find him here, and stole some of his coffee."
Trace takes another sip of his coffee, and then glares expressing some discontent at what has become a now-empty cup. "I didn't feel like driving back to the city, just to drive back out here this evening," Trace comments, stifling a yawn. "Not that it's precisely my coffee, either. I found it in the cupboard, I just got it going"
"It's not stealing if you need it." Briari says as she settles down into a chair, then folds one leg over the other. Next, her large iPhone slips out of her pocket and starts to tap away. "I think I broke a world record in Trivia Crack. I have now answered one thousand and twenty six questions in a row without missing one. So what is your plans tonight, guys?"
"It is better to not stay alone anyways." Ava says to Trace. She looks at Briari and smiles a little. "Congratulations. Another late night for you?" She leans back on the counter and folds one lanky leg over the other, considering. "I have no real plans. I might go back to the city. I might stay here. It depends on if anyone wants to go do anything, or if something should… happen."
The ahroun lifts his shoulders in a shrug before moving to refill his coffee cup. "Yeah, well," Trace says, "'Better to' and 'actually happens in reality' tend to be somewhat removed from each other in my experience." He lets out a breath, slowly. "There's that gathering-moot-thing tonight, or so I've been told. Other than that, not really."
"Oh? Is there a moot tonight? I must have forgot to set my reminder." Briari says with a yawn. "Not really a long night, just a few quick hours. I was on a roll. Funny enough, my best subject is art where I though it would be science." She taps away at her phone a few more times, then gives a flicking motion. "Moot will be fun I am sure. Hopefully a lot more tame than last month's new moon moot."
"I wasn't aware. Maybe I'll go. Maybe." She lapses into silence, looking off into the living room, then at Briari. "I can't say I'd have done as well. I never much cared for art, or clothes, or any of those things. Half the time I have to ask someone's advice before I start putting together colors or choosing a wardrobe. I used to have a Kin friend that did just that, so long as I bought her something in turn."
Trace takes a sip of his coffee and goes back to leaning against the table again. "I solved that by the fact that I own about eight of the exact same shirt," he offers. "I think one is even blue instead of grey."
"Ava has seen my closet. I love shopping." Briari says as she swipes the screen again, then giggles. "Easy question. Pff… sometimes I think kids write these questions." As she tucks the phone away, she gives a stretch of her body upwards to pop a few joints. "You guys eat yet?"
"Yes, and I've borrowed from it, among other things," Ava says, with a touch of bemusement. She turns to Trace and points at him. "But mostly, I take after you. This isn't even mine." She picks at the hem of the dress, which is, somewhat obviously, tailored for a shorter woman. "But I'm trying to… diversify." She shakes her head and walks over to Briari. "No. You?"
Trace turns his coffee cup around in his hands a few times. "I'd thought about…" there is a pause and quiet muttering in Spanish under his breath, before he comes up with correct word, "breakfast, but. Coffee was about all I could manage, to start with. Plus, I suck at cooking."
"So do I, which is why I usually order take out. I can snag us some brunch if you want. It's a low moon and they got some cafes around the area that are not too shabby if you want to head over." Briari says as she gives another yawn. "Or we can pull up a recipe on the Internet and try our hand at burning the kitchen down."
"We're all well-off enough that we can afford a lunch, not so much a kitchen." Ava says. She starts for the door, then pauses, as if considering something, then shrugs it off and keeps right on going. "Between the three of us, we should be plenty safe enough. I don't see the harm in a little jaunt."
There's a grin. "Yeah, I think burning the kitchen down, would be a distinctly bad first impression, as far as impressions could make?" he says. Trace finishes his coffee and sets the mug next to the sink, and moves after Ava. "I'll be right back, though. My jacket is upstairs. I don't know about you, but I think it's cold outside."
"It's about sixty five outside. That is hardly cold." Briari grins at Trace. "In Georgia, that would be considered perfect weather. We get pretty humid and muggy down south." Hopping to her feet, she heads after Ava with her usual bouncing saunter to her feet.
"It's just wet, like it always is," Ava says. She looks at Briari as the Ragabash comes bouncing over and opens the door for the both of them, then steps out, her light dress rippling in the wind. "This is why I prefer heavier things," she mutters to herself.
Trace disappears up the stairs as he said he intended to, returning only a minute later wearing his usual jacket, and adjusting the holster for the revolver underneath before zipping the jacket up. "It's cold," he mutters as he shuts the front door behind him. "If this is spring, I'm going to hate winter."
"You are most def gonna hate winter. Snow is not fun. Took me awhile to get used to it also." Bri says as she leads them to her new Ford Fusion, which is far tamer than the Ferrari she tends to take out once in awhile. "What are you guys in the mood for by the way? I can eat anything. They got a cool place that sells breakfast waffles with ice cream on it."
"It is cold and wet, but you can always put on more clothes." Ava follows Briari to her car and slides into the passenger seat, buckling her belt. "I'm not a picky eater, though I do like meat. So long as I can get something savory, I don't care where we go." She looks over her shoulder at Trace. "You can start a fire when we get back, or… Bri could turn on the heat?"
Trace seems to be fine now that he's got the jacket on, though perhaps still a little cold. He gets in the back, shuts the door behind him. "It's okay," he says. "Meat is always good," the ahroun agrees, baring his teeth for a moment in a far-too-enthusiastic grin. "Or whatever. I'm not picky. At least, not right now."
Briari flicks the heat on the dash board as well as turns the volume down which starts to rumble out loud pop EDM music. "We can go get steaks at Longhorns then. They are quick and the food is pretty good for a chain." After buckling, she puts the car in motion and starts down the driveway with a hum as her fingers rap along the steering wheel in time of the music.
"Never been," Ava says. "More of a take-out or delivery kind of person, though it will be nice to sit down and eat in good company." Ava says. She sits, hands folded in her lap, her legs crossed at the knee, idly bobbing one foot to a steady beat inside her mind.
"Hey, they have steaks, so sure," Trace agrees, leaning a bit forward as they go. That, or he's a nervous passenger, it's hard to tell.
It appears the ragabash is a sane, normal driver. There is no blistering speed or weaving in and out of traffic. Humming as she continues to drive, her head bobs up and down a bit. "Steaks it is then. Lemmie guess, at least one person in here likes them bloody? I am a medium girl myself. A bit of pink."
"I prefer well-done, or medium-well, depending on how good the meat is." She ponders on that. "And maybe some sweet potato fries, or something fried for an appetizer, and something chocolate for dessert." She looks down at her dress. "Maybe I should have borrowed something that wasn't white."
Trace grins. "Well, if they have to be cooked, I'll stick with rare," he says. The sane driving doesn't make him any less of a nervous passenger, though, and he taps his fingers on his knees. "I mean, I'll eat it just about any way that it's cooked, but I prefer rare. About as good as you can get without killing it yourself."
"Ugh. I honestly don't know how two leggers can live as a wolf and hunt their own meals down and eat it like that. Yuck, yuck, yuck. Bunnies are too cute to chase down and murder." Briari says with a wrinkle of her nose as she hits the freeway, then shifts gears to a higher speed.
"I was never a good hunter. I seldom use wolf-skin outside of the Umbra, but, I spent most of my time in the city. It's only natural." Ava says, looking at her nails, picking away some dirt. "I've never had want for money. The only thing I've ever had to hunt for was my phone."
"Yeah. Being a spoiled rich kid had it's advantages, but I would die in three days out in the wilderness on my own if I was forced to survive." Briari chuckles as she changes the channel on her stereo to something more 90's.
"Same," Ava says. "I get lost on the Bawn from time to time because I just can't stay oriented out in the woods. Doesn't happen in the city, though, even if it's one that I'm a stranger to."
Trace watches both of them and there's a bit of a chuckle. "You get used to it," Trace offers. "Then again, I spent a good amount of time on four legs, when I was at Western Eye and out in the forest. I don't like it more than a visit now and then, but I don't do badly. And there's something about the excitement of hunting…" That slightly toothy grin comes back.
"I would rather hunt down a Whopper or a burger of greater quality." Briari grins as she takes an off ramp and back into town as she heads down a strip of restaurants. "I can use a compass though, so that helps me when or if I get lost in the bawn."
"I know you can guess which way is east or west depending on the time of day and where the sun is, and… that is about it." Ava shrugs, the shoulder of her dress slipping. She pushes it back into place and peers through the windshield.
"It does get to a point sometimes where all the trees start to look the same and I can't be happier than seeing concrete under my feet," Trace says. "Probably by the time things settle down again, it'll be that point."
Pulling into the driveway of the steakhouse, Briari turns the engine off, then unbuckles as she slips out into the fresh air. Giving a lick of her lips, she breathes in the scent of food. "We should get a table near the back, that way we won't freak out anyone else that may be eating."
Ava climbs out of the car and stretches her legs, then her arms, looking nearly as white as her dress in the sunlight. "Before lunch picks up," she suggests, heading in ahead of the others. She stops at the door to allow them in behind her, then hurries on with quick, long-legged steps to get the hostess moving before the other Garou come in and make things a tad awkward.
Trace hangs back a little bit behind Ava, ducking a nod to the suggestion. "Yeah," he agrees. "Honestly, I'd usually just get take out, or phone it in ahead if I were by myself. No sense in otherwise most of the time. But hey, why not." The ahroun takes a few deep breaths, and seems to be about as relaxed as he's going to get.
Once a table is offered, Briari flops down into it and snags a menu, looks at it for two seconds, then drops it on to the table again, having already decided. "I am getting booze." She says with a nod of her head. "Black and Blue Margarita. Woo! Those are ridiculously good."
Ava sits down beside Briari with menu in hand and echoes the Ragabash's drink order. She sits rigidly, her legs tucked underneath her, and wets her lips with a flick of the tongue. "And you?" She looks up at Trace. "Coffee, or…" she glances at the menu again. "Whiskey? Ah, no. Tequila. You'd be a tequila kind of guy, wouldn't you?"
Trace takes the seat furthest from the walkway, and glances at the menu, reading it for a minute. "Maker's Mark and coke," he decides. "Could have gone with beer, too." He folds the menu back up and drums on it rather than reading it any further, having apparently decided what he wants.
"I pegged him for beer a few days ago." Briari says with a grin on her face as she shuffles the menus and puts them on the edge of the table. The nervous waitress clears her throat and starts to take their orders. She snags a rib-eye, medium with a garlic parm cheese to cover it, mixed veggies and corn.
"I never liked the taste of beer. Too… earthy," she says with a crinkle of her nose. Ava orders just what she was musing about in the car, steak and sweet potato fries, and a sampler for the table to share in the mean time. Hungry Garou with liquor and no food in their stomaches is probably a bad thing, after all.
"New York strip steak, fries." The ahroun's order is short but not intentionally terse by any means, and then Trace angles his gaze towards the ceiling again, waiting until the waitress has moved on and away from their table before saying anything else. "I think I'm about as caught up with everything that's going on as I can be," he tells Briari. "Read the files, talked to people, et cetera."
"Awesome. Now it is time to get useful, huh? I would love for maybe the three of us and Nieve to get together and pull off some epic Walker shit. I got the spy stuff locked down and Nieve is incredibly crazy with spirits. Maybe we can take a poke at the other side of the glass near the tower and see if there is anything we can do about some of those crazy huge banes hanging out." Briari says as she taps her fork along the table in a steady beat. "Even if we do not engage, we can at least create a plan."
"Perhaps. I am no stranger to spirits," Ava says. "Though I am not much of a fighter, or… an investigator. Or the usual Garou things, I suppose. Perhaps sometime soon a new Walker pack will form up, or, someone will start a pack for city folk. Something along those lines that will help us with what's going on and everything that needs be done."
Trace nods thoughtfully, and fidgets with the glass of his drink once their drinks are delivered to the table. "Taking them out would be even better," he says. "But not something that can be done without thought into it first. Though I prefer things I can shoot at, quite honestly, and guns don't usually work too well on banes."
"Contained would work just as well, for the time being," Ava says. She takes quiets down as the drinks arrive and offers a thankful smile, taking some light sips of her fruity alcohol. "If it makes you feel any better, I prefer guns, too. I'm not great at hand to hand, but I know how to handle myself, at least."
The waitress does seem just as happy to get away from the garou's table. Trace averts his gaze from watching the waitress, back to the ceiling. "Yeah. I mean, I've dealt with shit hand to hand plenty. But I'm a very good shot, and it's a lot easier to explain away things being dealt with if it doesn't look like a bear got loose from the zoo in the city." He snorts, citing the cover-up that was invented for his first change and the destruction resulting from it.
A few mouthfuls of bright blue booze later, the Philodox has slouched back into her seat and is anxiously awaiting the arrival of the appetizer. She looks for it, seems disappointed that it hasn't arrived in five minutes, then turns to Trace. "I only use pistols, although I know how to work a small rifle. They're just impractical most of the time."
Trace takes sips from the cola-and-booze concoction and drums his fingers on the table. "Depends on the circumstance," he muses. "But certainly a handgun is easier in a pinch or a quick situation. I need a few more rifles, honestly. Two isn't nearly enough, but it'll do for the time being." Just how many guns does the ahroun actually have?
By the time the appetizer does arrive, the rest of the drink is nearly done, and a second arrives. But she leaves it alone for now, focusing on the myraid of greasy fried things on the platter. "Only one for me, one pistol, one shot at a time. I don't fight enough to need more."
Trace reaches an grabs several items off the appetiser plate without actually looking at what they are, first. "Least you know how to use them," Trace says. "I can help you out with hand to hand skills at some point, if you ever want." There's a glance over to the ragabash, and Trace extends the offer. "Both of you. At the very least, practise helps keep them up even if you don't use them that often. Better than being rusty."
"We can do that, if you'd like," Ava says with a bit of a giggle. "Maybe sometime later. After the food's been… digested." She looks up as Briari heads off to take her phone call, then looks back at Trace. "Most of my hand to hand is based around martial arts. Grapples and throws and holds. That sort of thing."
Trace grins. "I didn't necessarily mean today," he says, as their actual food gets to the table— and the waitress hurries away again. "But while the moon is small like it is now is often better." The ahroun starts cutting his steak, seeming immensely pleased, and then lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "I know some around martial arts. Learned it when I was a cub. Before that, it was all stuff I picked up getting in fights at school. The combination of the two have served me pretty well."
"I never fought much as a child outside of formal practice, or as a professional these days, but… I've had my battles," she says, swallowing a mozzarella stick. "But I know I'm no match for you, or most of a lot of others like us. I just know enough that I'm not a lial- liability," she corrects.
The ahroun offers a less feral, gentler smile over to his tribemate, watching Ava for a long moment. "That's good, though," Trace says in between bites of steak. "There are many things, sí, and they all help Gaia in their own ways." He chews on his lip for a moment. "And different styles of fighting work for different people. I just like hitting shit."
"A balanced approach is best," Ava concurs, somewhere between sips of margarita and steak. "I am fine with not being the best fighter. I know some things that others don't, and I fulfill my purpose. My style of fighting is based around just being able to deal with stronger opponents and avoiding getting caught."
Trace nods, and is silent for a bit while he works his way through a good quarter of his food in a short span of time, before picking up a french fry and fidgeting with it with the edge of the steak knife. "Yeah. Well, that's always a good strategy. And if you can't be good," there's a bit of a mischievous grin that follows, "be good with it." He pauses, and looks over at Ava. "I got that right?" he asks, presumably asking about the idiom that he slightly mangled.
"I think you mean, if you can't be good, be lucky," Ava says. Then she pauses, sips her drink, and laughs, brushing her hair back away from her eyes. "But I wouldn't know. I'm as good at talking with people as I am with…" she holds up her fists and makes a boxing gesture. "I've always heard it said it's better to be lucky than good anyways, because you don't have to practice at luck. You either have it, or you don't."
Trace grins a little. "Oops," he says. "English is complicated." A few bites of steak later, Trace adds, "And sometimes, it's confusing." He shrugs. "Having luck on our side with the way things are going right now?" There's a little bit of a sigh. "It couldn't hurt, that is for certain."
"Spanish your first language?" She asks, sitting forward with one elbow on the table, a coaster stuck to it. "Must be difficult to have all those words in your head, but I bet it comes in handy in the city. I've been places where more people speak Spanish than English, but that's more common in California than here." Ava shrugs and smiles a little. "At least we're alive. We can still fight on. That counts for something."
"Sí," Trace affirms, toying with the last few bites of steak left on his plate by this point. "I grew up one of those places. Learned English later, and in school. Spanish came in really useful in Los Angeles, and even in San Francisco too. And actually, I've been hanging out with one of the Gnawers, a lot?" The ahroun shrugs. "Felix. And I'm teaching him some Spanish. It's kind of neat."
"I'm surprised there are Gnawers that don't know any," Ava says. "It's the language of the city. I don't know any," she says. "Except for 'margarita', and 'tequila', but I never talk to anyone. I am exempt." She drains the remnants of her cocktail and sighs, closing her eyes. "Perhaps one day we'll go back to LA."
Trace's jaw tightens, a little bit enough that the musculature is more clearly defined and visible, and when he speaks in response, it's quieter. "I hope so." The ahroun sighs. "One day, we'll make them pay for everything and everyone that they took from us. One day."
"Here's to that," Ava says, draining the last of her second drink. She then falls on her steak with knife and fork, carving it up and eating it one piece at a time, with the occasional daub of sauce. "I hope it won't be long."
Having been eating her steak and listening, Briari says, "I speak Japanese." She pipes up with a sly grin upon her face. "Some Spanish, some Chinese, some Cantonese, some French." She stabs the last bite of steak and pops into her mouth. "I also speak C plus plus and Java."
Trace lifts his glass slightly in a toast after Ava speaks, and when he puts it down, fidgets with the empty glass. "Me too." He lets out a breath, and some of the tension eases, though it's still practically radiating off of the ahroun in waves, albeit well controlled. "That's six languages I don't speak," Trace responds to Briari.
"Some of them are computer-stuff, I don't speak them either," Ava consoles. She wobbles just a tad in her seat, steadied, just barely, by the intensity of her focus on her steak.
Taking a long slurp off her third margarita, Briari giggles at them. "I was trained in computer language when I was in middle school. I was like… the only girl… there… and I went to an all girl's prep school." She says as she sinks back, then gives another chug off the sugar coated rim.
Trace shakes his head when the waitress looks over at them, placing his hand briefly over the top of his empty glass, and she seems relieved not to come over to their table again yet. "I've always been a little more… hands-on."
It isn't long before the table is cleared of meat and drink, leaving two somewhat bombed Walkers, a slightly buzzed Ahroun, and a frazzled waitress. Ava manages to leave a generous tip, perhaps too generous, and stumbles out the door with Briari and Trace, chatting (slurring) about whatever random tidbits pop into her margarita mind.