[personal profile] kiananlogs
26 January, 2017
The moon is in the waning New (Ragabash) Moon phase (4% full).

There's music in the Library tonight, in the form of Felix loudly playing his electric. Everyone else must be out, or at least not trying to get some peace and quiet. Or has good earplugs, which probably wouldn't be a bad thing for anyone in the place to have. At any rate, that's the situation right around the time Trace is likely to arrive.

It's a bit later when Trace slips in the front door of the Library, paper bag in hand and wearing the same thing he was wearing when he left for his evening patrol some hours ago. Except that when he left, he wasn't wearing the scowl or the radiating waves of rage that follow in his wake. On the bright side, the bag is big enough that it's got to have at least five or six bottles in there, and he lifts a hand in a wave when he comes into sight.

Felix is also wearing what he was wearing before, and, in fact, DOING what he was doing before, though that doesn't necessarily mean there hasn't been some pausing in between. For one thing, Lilah was here when Trace headed out, and now she's nowhere to be seen. And, as one might expect, the Galliard is playing a different song than before. He flashes his packmate a grin that goes a bit closer to sympathetic at the sight of the scowl, and lifts his chin in return-greeting. With no microphone, one has to get a bit closer to hear what he's singing. "—message at the tone, 'cause tonight I don't feel like doin' anythin'; nothin' at all!" is about where he's at when the Ahroun's close enough to hear. He breaks off there, improvising a quick little 'end' to the song. "So you were havin' fun, I guess."

Trace moves over towards the couch, flopping back on it somewhat dramatically, and setting the bag to one side. Gun and holster come out, and get piled with his wallet and phone at the edge of the couch. "Oh yeah. More eventful than the usual patrol, at least, an' now I gotta go trek to the Bawn sometime soon and go see what the hell's going on…" he empties the bottles and sets them on the couch as well. Apparently, he went shopping for the entire bottom shelf of the liquor store, having returned with three bottles of vodka and four bottles of whiskey. "Just…" He shakes his head, and sighs.

Felix sets the guitar down gently where it usually lives, and flips off the amp. He saunters over to flop bonelessly onto the couch, then, managing to avoid landing on any of the bottles. "See what the hell's goin' on with anythin' in particular?" he asks, and digs into his pocket, coming up with the Altoids tin. He opens it, and tilts it toward Trace, offering before he even takes a cigarette himself, this time.

Trace takes a cigarette with a nod and picks the lighter up from the pile of his stuff to light it then offers the lighter to his packmate. Another sigh. "Whatshername," he answers after a drag on the cigarette. "Reagan. If she'd surprised me a second later I could have as easily killed her."

Felix keeps a lighter in the tin— but accepts Trace's anyway, since hey, he's already got it offered and all. He flicks the tin shut and puts it away, handing the Walker's lighter back as he watches the first exhalation of smoke twine into the Library air. "Why a second later?" he asks, "An' what kinda surprise'd she do anyhow? Like, sneak up behind you an' go 'boo', or what?"

Trace shakes his head slightly. "Said hello to me as I was jogging past, waited until she was less than a foot from me to do so, an' well," he pauses, grabs the nearest bottle and sets the cigarette between his lips to have both hands to open it. Twist-off caps, they're useful. Cigarette gets switched out, and a sip of the booze follows. "Thing is last time I met her was out in the woods and she was a wolf an' so I don't exactly know her from Adam."

"Did she say 'hi Trace'?" Felix asks, tilting his head, and teases, "'cause if you go pinnin' ALL chicks who just say 'hello' to telephone poles, you ain't gonna be gettin' too far with 'em. …well, most of 'em. Reckon I met a few'd definitely go for it." He picks up one of the other bottles and looks it over, not opening it yet. More seriously he says, "Yeah, though, reckon she's lucky it ain't much of a moon. That could've gone to hell real damn quick."

Angry rage or not, the teasing elicits a bit of a smile out of the ahroun. "Sure if they wait until they're twelve inches from my face," Trace retorts. "Honest to Gaia she could have waved, gotten my attention, anything and I'd'a been fine but an' then she had the fucking nerve to try an' start… whatever that was?" The ahroun shakes his head. "I had to literally tell her that I outrank her, before she backed down… and I don't think it really went over very well."

"If they're twelve inches from my face, it's gonna depend a lot just how they say it," Felix grants, "…'mong other things. What WAS whatever that was?" He reaches over to give Trace a sympathetic shoulder pat on the rank-pulling. "What'd she say to it?" he asks.

Trace takes a deep breath, the recognizable effort to calm down a little more coupled with another few drags from the cigarette before he speaks again. "She was kinda understandably pissed about the whole grabbing her by the throat thing but seemed to be of some sorta opinion that violence in public like that is unacceptable, and last I checked… 'careful' sure but I was. She said something like that 'you aren't an Ahroun with Rage here' and prefaced the entire screed with 'what the actual fuck' and last I checked she's got no right, experience, position to give weight to any of that an' it was bullshit anyway." He grins. "She said something about sorry to interrupt my jog but I don't think the apology in it was sincere. Then we each left, 'cause it was beyond pointless."

Felix arches a brow. "You're an Ahroun with Rage fuckin' everywhere," he says, "An' the Park's basically ours, anyhow. I mean, a'ight, yeah, if it was say Denny's maybe not so much with the grabbin' folks by the throat, but even so, you said she was talkin' like it was a veil thing? 'cause I'm thinkin' if she thinks that kinda shit's telltale werewolf there's some places 'round here she ain't been."

"I think there's a lot of places she ain't been," Trace notes drily, taking another swig from the bottle of whiskey. "I know th' first time I met her Mona was teaching her some lesson about stuff out in the woods, so I'm going to head out there and talk to her soon, because clearly there's a little more left for her to catch up on." There's a snort. "Or the next ahroun— or even philodox or ragabash," these are added not quite as an afterthought, "with Rage that she runs into might not be so kind to her as I was."

Felix claims one of the other whiskey bottles and opens it up, cigarette in his mouth to free his hands, unconsciously echoing his packmate's earlier movements. They COULD just share the open one, sure, but this is simpler, right? And it isn't as though they won't be opening both of them anyhow. "Yeah, as I recall Monica's kinda bein' her mentor in general," he says, "…an' yeah. I mean it ain't like most folks 'round here ain't got a fair bit of control, but it ain't wisest to go testin' it." Says the member of the Coyote pack.

Trace nods. "Maybe they haven't gotten to the whole 'social interaction' an' 'manners' bit," Trace suggests and takes another drink. Says the one who just nearly choked someone out against a light pole. "Anyway I figure that it'd be better for Mona t' hear about it from me sooner than later, so as that it doesn't become even more've a thing than it already is."

"She's goin' by Monica now," Felix notes, aside, and takes a good drink. "Yeah, prolly best to let her know. Especially in case some shit DID happen later, I guess. Avoid folks askin' why it got let to happen twice." He looks a bit thoughtful. "What's kinda weird to me is, how'd she get past bein' a cub without gettin' the lesson 'bout dealin' with the daily-type dominance shit?"

Trace raises an eyebrow for a moment and nods, and makes a sort of 'mmmf' sound. "Gaia only knows," he answers. "but maybe the whole rank thing pushes some button she's got now since she's well.. not? Or she was in a real permissive sept when she was a kid, or left not long after she rited to do her own thing… lotsa possibilities really." He makes another face, one that usually comes when he's thinking about something that doesn't particularly please him. "There's some Garou I've heard about like that, they try real hard to be human. 'm kinda jealous that they even can, though."

"Shit, when I was a cub I got fuckin' killed for bein' a smart ass an' fightin' that shit too hard," Felix says, relaxing back a bit and having another drink. "…I still like playin' human," he admits— being right about at the far edge of being able to somewhat get away with it— "but we ain't. An' ain't none of us get to pretend it an' ignore what we are an' expect shit to work out."

Trace nods a little bit. "I dunno, I pretty much went with it when I was a cub," he says. "Didn't exactly have much choice, it was catch up and get with the program or sit in a padded room at the top of an office building without even a window all day long and crap meals. An' it wasn't exactly like I had much I left behind, so that made it easier for me."

Felix laughs. "Well, I didn't have much choice either, see the part where it got me killed," he says dryly, "…though I reckon it's a choice anyhow, just decidin' which you hate more. An' I never took too great to folks tellin' be what I had to do an' be, so… took a while. But the thing I feel like needs pointin' out here is they didn't rite me 'til they got that kinda shit drummed in at least good enough for government work."

Trace nods a bit more. "I mean, while I'm glad that if she's gonna be in the city she's being on the cautious side," he eventually comes up with, taking up the lighter to relight his cigarette which has gone out for more attention being paid to drinking, "there's such a thing as too much, an' too not with it. An' deliberately provoking people who outrank you, in the middle of the edge of Harbor Park?" he shakes his head. "D'you know what tribe Reagan's from? Is she a Fury? I don't think I ever picked up on it an' she certainly didn't mention it today."

"You gotta be cautious as far as pissin' folks off as well as the other shit," Felix agrees. He's done a better job of keeping both vices balanced, and reaches over to ash into the bowl that's been playing the role of ashtray today. "I think," he says, considering, "she's Children of Gaia. Even if she IS bein' Monica's."

"Maybe I'll stop by an' see Alicia-rhya if I get a chance too," the ahroun muses, gaze wandering from the ceiling to the bookshelves and then finally back to the bottle of whiskey he's holding. "Don't wanna make a bigger thing of it than I have to, but." One more time, Trace shrugs his shoulders. "Go an' see both'f 'em," the bottle he's holding is about a third full at this point, a little less, and the general pace at which it has been drank means that it's having a little more effect, more immediately, "when I'm not angry— as angry— about it." And hopefully when he's not drunk, either.

Felix nods, and shrugs back. "S'pose she oughta know what's goin' on too," he agrees, then considers a moment. "Maybe hit up Monica first, though, make sure she ain't got an issue with that. Might be she'd rather handle it just herself, might be she'd feel like hittin' up Alicia first'd make her look bad," he says. He's a reasonable bit behind Trace in the bottle-emptying, having really started in later. And not being nearly as angry.

Trace nods. "Makes sense," he agrees. "Monica, an' then if she needs I'll find Alicia." There's a brief grin, and he adds, "Tomorrow." Followed shortly by, "An' thanks."

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Kianan Rowan Abrams

April 2017

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