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Earlier this week I swung by the tenement. Mouse was there talking with Elliot, so I wallflowered. Nothing terribly interesting was discussed, although Mouse did drop that Ky had sent her word about corrupted pigeons in the city. It's good to see that he's making an effort at communicating better.
Sami showed up, there was talk of the San Diego sept she'd come from, and how Sewall might be interested in talking to someone from there about the fetish he was questing after. After Elliot left, Sami also mentioned how San Diego's garou didn't respect their kin very much. Clearly there's a story there--one that might tie in with how Sami's been hiding out in St. Claire for the past few years.
Riley turned up right as Sami left. I tossed her the keys to the Honda Prelude company car and told her not to tart it up with any attention-drawing stuff like a coffee can muffler or neon running lights--and to not wrap it around a tree. She seemed pretty happy about it, then promptly needled me a bit. Got ever so slightly under my skin for just a fraction of a second when she made a crack about me and Mouse potentially sleeping with one another.
The next couple days I spent doing stock portfolio work for Terminus, running leads for my PI biz (a couple quick and lucrative rush jobs back to back!), and thinking about what to do and where to go on this upcoming date with Emma. I had a half dozen unusual ideas for a first date floating around in my mind, but then I pushed them all aside and decided to do the traditional dinner-and-a-movie ritual, except in reverse. That way we can spend time talking about the movie over dinner, which should reduce the amount of "not normal" talk. I'm thinking to myself, hey, I kind of want just a normal relationship kind of thing. And it occurs to me that maybe Emma just wants the exact same thing: normal. Or normalish, at least. Putting the cart in front of the horse, though. It's just one date, not a relationship--no commitment or expectations.
As luck would have it, I ran into Emma on Thursday over at Edgewood. She was making a breakfast of eggs, bacon, and steak. (Protein, protein, and protein. Sheesh.) Offered some to me, but I declined and explained how I was eating no meat or animal products during the weekdays, but meat of any kind or volume was fine on weekends. I shared my idea of a mundane night out, and Emma seemed to be happy about that. She then said she'd kept our upcoming date quiet. I told her I had as well because in such tight-knit circles, people gossip and pressure to do--or not do--things. Plus, it seems a little silly to announce something every time someone gets a date. If it's date after date after date and things are looking good and going well, then that's a different story. Her mom dropped by with Zoe, I said hi, then headed out to do more work and to give Emma some alone time with her mother and her kid. Cute kid. She's really grown since I last saw her.
Friday night I dropped by Edgewood with another load of canned fruits and vegetables to stock the cupboards. Emma had mentioned the day before that they were running low on those items, so done and done. It's not fresh stuff, but it's waaaay too early to plant, much less harvest, in this area. Huh. I wonder where the fresh vegetables come from in the stores when it's the middle of winter? I guess Central and South America. I'm rambling.
Oh, while I was putting away groceries this new guy, Arthur of the Silver Fangs, showed up at the back door. I kind of figured he wasn't human-born as he had trouble getting the door to open. He also spoke almost zero English: didn't even catch his auspice or rank. He seemed friendly enough, though. We successfully communicated that he was hungry, so I cooked him a deer steak from the fridge. And he's a guest at the moment, so I called Sewall up to let him know he had a tribemate in town. No answer so I left a voicemail. Arthur seemed to think that someone else--Battlecry--was the tribal elder. *Shrug?* Seems like there might be a little chaos among the Silver Fangs--at least judging by what Sewall said a few months ago with there being a lack of leadership and him taking over. Of course, kind of hard to communicate that with someone who can barely say they're hungry. (Well, not really with a little Mind magic, but that seemed like it'd be potentially risky--even if done coincidentally.) And even if I could communicate that information, I'm not sure I'd have communicated that directly to a guest. Making the sept's Silver Fangs look bad disorganized just makes the sept look bad by proxy, and you don't air laundry in front of a guest.
Poor Charley. He has to put up with this, and even he seems out of the loop when it comes to his own tribe.
Sami showed up, there was talk of the San Diego sept she'd come from, and how Sewall might be interested in talking to someone from there about the fetish he was questing after. After Elliot left, Sami also mentioned how San Diego's garou didn't respect their kin very much. Clearly there's a story there--one that might tie in with how Sami's been hiding out in St. Claire for the past few years.
Riley turned up right as Sami left. I tossed her the keys to the Honda Prelude company car and told her not to tart it up with any attention-drawing stuff like a coffee can muffler or neon running lights--and to not wrap it around a tree. She seemed pretty happy about it, then promptly needled me a bit. Got ever so slightly under my skin for just a fraction of a second when she made a crack about me and Mouse potentially sleeping with one another.
The next couple days I spent doing stock portfolio work for Terminus, running leads for my PI biz (a couple quick and lucrative rush jobs back to back!), and thinking about what to do and where to go on this upcoming date with Emma. I had a half dozen unusual ideas for a first date floating around in my mind, but then I pushed them all aside and decided to do the traditional dinner-and-a-movie ritual, except in reverse. That way we can spend time talking about the movie over dinner, which should reduce the amount of "not normal" talk. I'm thinking to myself, hey, I kind of want just a normal relationship kind of thing. And it occurs to me that maybe Emma just wants the exact same thing: normal. Or normalish, at least. Putting the cart in front of the horse, though. It's just one date, not a relationship--no commitment or expectations.
As luck would have it, I ran into Emma on Thursday over at Edgewood. She was making a breakfast of eggs, bacon, and steak. (Protein, protein, and protein. Sheesh.) Offered some to me, but I declined and explained how I was eating no meat or animal products during the weekdays, but meat of any kind or volume was fine on weekends. I shared my idea of a mundane night out, and Emma seemed to be happy about that. She then said she'd kept our upcoming date quiet. I told her I had as well because in such tight-knit circles, people gossip and pressure to do--or not do--things. Plus, it seems a little silly to announce something every time someone gets a date. If it's date after date after date and things are looking good and going well, then that's a different story. Her mom dropped by with Zoe, I said hi, then headed out to do more work and to give Emma some alone time with her mother and her kid. Cute kid. She's really grown since I last saw her.
Friday night I dropped by Edgewood with another load of canned fruits and vegetables to stock the cupboards. Emma had mentioned the day before that they were running low on those items, so done and done. It's not fresh stuff, but it's waaaay too early to plant, much less harvest, in this area. Huh. I wonder where the fresh vegetables come from in the stores when it's the middle of winter? I guess Central and South America. I'm rambling.
Oh, while I was putting away groceries this new guy, Arthur of the Silver Fangs, showed up at the back door. I kind of figured he wasn't human-born as he had trouble getting the door to open. He also spoke almost zero English: didn't even catch his auspice or rank. He seemed friendly enough, though. We successfully communicated that he was hungry, so I cooked him a deer steak from the fridge. And he's a guest at the moment, so I called Sewall up to let him know he had a tribemate in town. No answer so I left a voicemail. Arthur seemed to think that someone else--Battlecry--was the tribal elder. *Shrug?* Seems like there might be a little chaos among the Silver Fangs--at least judging by what Sewall said a few months ago with there being a lack of leadership and him taking over. Of course, kind of hard to communicate that with someone who can barely say they're hungry. (Well, not really with a little Mind magic, but that seemed like it'd be potentially risky--even if done coincidentally.) And even if I could communicate that information, I'm not sure I'd have communicated that directly to a guest. Making the sept's Silver Fangs look bad disorganized just makes the sept look bad by proxy, and you don't air laundry in front of a guest.
Poor Charley. He has to put up with this, and even he seems out of the loop when it comes to his own tribe.
