A snippet of the security log at the Glass Walker's Safehouse

[nick_garou]

Javid puffs away leisurely at his weed laced tobacco, doing all sorts of watching and no talking.

"Morning," Rhys answers. He stops approaching with vague suddenness, but smoothes it over with a grin. "Rhys Cadogan, Glass Walker, Galliard, and Cliath. It's nice to meet you, Quin."

Nicodemus nods at Quin's suggestion to make a posting at the Farmhouse. "I'll print you up a flyer for the farmhouse. And one for here, too. That sounds like a job Rina might be interested in taking, but she's a little conspicuous in some parts of town." He then asides to Javid, "I know it's not a big deal anymore to smoke pot, and I'm perfectly fine with you doing it in the lobby, but could you avoid doing that when entering the safehouse next time? It still makes some police suspicious, and a lot of the more conservative people associate it with criminal activity. Last thing we need is the police paying more attention to this place--or staking it out. Much less a raid."

Quin's grin returns in a wider capacity at Nick's remarks, although he says nothing to add to it.

 

"That's funny," the boy says, drawing the two words out. "I'm not even old enough to buy a cigarette, and you are worried about me smoking weed in public."

 

"He's worried about you drawing attention onto the safehouse," Rhys states quietly. "Not you smoking weed in public. If you want to test fate out there and smoke, then do it. But coming here is a privilege, and you're welcome to be here. However, if you can't follow the simple request of /don't bring attention to the safehouse/, then that privilege will be revoked."

Nicodemus motions towards Rhys with a hand as the new cliath restates his prior request. "Honestly? I don't care what you do to yourself. There's beer in the fridge and sometimes cigarettes on the shelves. Help yourself. Just don't do anything that might attract unwanted attention to everyone who lives here."

"Ain't a case of someone /seein'/ you," Quin says calmly to Javid, though he eases his weight onto his back foot, fractionally away from the Straider. "Smell left hangin' about afterward's enough to merit investigatin'. Thanks for the offer of fliers, Nick, I'll take you up on that."

Javid turns to level a dark look of scorn on the other Galliard. "You've only now clawed your way out of being a cub, Burns Down the Fomori's House, so doh try and lecture me on the obvious with that mocking tone." A side glance is flicked at Nick, then Quin, both equally as dark as the ones directed at Rhys, if not more so in Quin's case.

 

"You may be right that I'm newly Cliath," Rhys returns quietly as he moves to place himself somewhat between the Strider and the pair of kin, "but this is my home and my tribe's territory. What Nick told you was not concern for you or your habits but concern for keeping his tribe and our guests safe. If you don't want a lecture, you can accept being corrected for where you were false and we can move on as if nothing had happened. Or you can leave and we can take this up with a Philodox later."

Bzzz! goes the dryer in the laundry room: load done. While Rhys and Javid discuss potentially relevant aspects of the Litany, Nick takes this particular opportunity to pointedly shoot a look at Quin while he casually puts a little more distance between himself and the Strider. It's a movement disguised as wanting to check on the conveniently finished-up dryer.

"You said somethin' 'bout chips in the break-room," Quin quietly directs towards Nick with a note of enquiry, starting in the same direction as the Walker kin.

"Fuck your tribe's safety," the young Strider bellows as his path towards the door is cut off, any bit of sanity he might have pretended to beating a fast retreat. "And fuck Nick, and fuck your fucking lectures masquerading as fucking fuck, you urrah fuck!! Get out of my way before I tear you in half!"

 

Rhys looks entirely unfazed by the Strider's outburst and he stays firmly in place, blocking any path that would put the other Galliard in line with the two kinsmen. Once he's sure Quin and Nick are out of the path of likely danger, he moves aside, both to let Javid pass and keep himself between the other Garou and the kin.

Nicodemus reaches the relative safety of the nearby laundry room, taking cover behind the wall--exactly as he'd done yesterday when Weaver spirits assaulted the safehouse. He tries to make his actions seem defensive. "Let's all be calm," he advises hastily as the garou's temper flares.

Quin just keeps his mouth shut and gets the hell out of the line of fire, ducking in behind Nick.

Javid does not seem to have any concern for the kinfolk trying to skitter out of the way, all of his murderous looks and teeth grinding focused on the Walker and no one else. As the other Galliard does not move out of the way fast enough, he barges forward, dripping rage, moving to bump him out of his way.

Rhys turns to face Javid again, when the Strider starts coming at him. His eyebrows pull toward a frown and he stands his ground, allowing the younger boy to bump into him. "If you don't want to be attacked on sight any time you come within a half mile of the Tenement," he warns, still in that quiet tone, "I suggest you get your rage in check and leave. Now."

 

Cheese Doodle has arrived.

Nicodemus peers from behind the laundry room wall, right hand grabbing about blindly atop the shelf near the washing machine in search of an object that might serve as a defensive weapon or distraction. His finger curl up around.... a half-used bar of old, caked, cheap-ass soap. "Please?" he adds as punctuation to Rhys's command--as if saying the magic word might help.

Quin keeps pretty much silent, even his feet placed with muffled care as he draws into the most unobtrusive location he can find. He's clearly not looking to play any further active role in the interactions.

The thin Strider's frame mashes up against the much solider Galliard. "Are you blind?" he growls into the other teenager's chest. "I am leaving."

"Then go around me," Rhys says. "Or take a breath and wait until I move. This is /my/ home, you'll not be pushing me out of your way to leave."

It's the earlier bellowing that seems to have roused the philodox from her slumbers. A bleary eyed Clare comes down the stairs, getting the eye crud out of her eyes as the injured walker looks around, trying to figure out what's going on. "Who yelling?" She asks to herself. Her gaze quickly snaps to Javid.

 

With a supreme effort of will, Javid, oblivious to all else in the room, remains in place, glowering into Rhys' chest, apparently waiting for... something.

Rhys stands, positioned so that Javid has no clear line to the kinsmen in the laundry room, but also somewhat in the path to the front door. The latter is likely the cause for the Strider to be glaring at him. There's little anger in his expression, he's still outwardly calm. He holds that position, not even looking up to answer the newly arrived Philodox. For a breath longer he waits, then with deliberate intention, his gaze remaining on the Strider, he starts to move aside.

Nicodemus stays silent, watching, peeking out from behind the safety(?) of the laundry room's doorway as the two garou face off against one another.

Hiding kin? Check. Garou in each other's faces? Check. Earlier shouting? Check. Clare folds her arms, and starts over towards Javid and Rhys. "What da fuck going?" She asks the pair, forcefully. A moment later, she corrects herself: "Going on." Skip a beat.

 

Likely only Nick is in any position to see the expression on Quin's face, which is one part 'keep head down' and one part 'oh great, even more potential furry mincing machines'. The Wendigo kin is even deeper in hiding than the Walker kin, and keeping very quiet.

Javid edges by, not bothering to go wide around the other Galliard but not touching him either as he heads towards the door. He doesn't get far, the Philodox's words finally breaking through the fog shrouding his mind at the moment. He turns slowly, his face contorted with anger, "Your cub insults me on the dancer's moon, in the presence of kinsfolk, and /blocks/ me from leaving."

 

There's a sudden crackle of speakers from the office, but the voice that comes through them a moment later is both loud enough to be heard, and quite recognizable as Mouse. "Rhys is not a cub, and whatever the hell is going on down there, if you can't control yourself around kin, get out. Now. Or lock yourself in the basement if you're that close to losing it."

Rhys turns as Javid moves, chin lifting just a touch. "You're no longer welcome here," he states, still not raising his voice nor allowing anger to heat it. He pauses when Mouse's voice comes over the intercom, continuing again after she's finished in the same soft tones. "You chose to ignore being corrected and advice, became belligerent, tried to run me over and threatened to tear me apart. I have not insulted you except that you decided to be so when we warned you that your actions could draw attention to the safehouse."

 

"Weese, shut the fuck up." Doodle says to her tribe mate, in a friendly enough way. Clare gives Javid a bit of a nervous smile. "And let 'em leaf. Jaff, I talk to you latah, kay?"