Give It To Someone Who Will Make Better Use of It.

Joey
useless useless useless USELESS FUCKING USELESS!

These are the thoughts that cycle through Joey Oliver's mind late Tuesday night. The rescue of Matthew Oliver was successful, the Kinfolk returned safely to his home, wherever that may be. Joey didn't stick around to chat. She didn't stay to hold his hand and smooth his hair and soothe whatever emotional trauma he may have suffered at the hands of Black Spiral Dancers for the better part of an hour. He's a son of Fenris. He's an agent of the FBI. And Joey's rage rides far, far too high for her to be kind or a comfort to anyone.

She and Nate continued pushing their way through the late night traffic, up the freeway toward Elk Grove and found Blood Summons and Matthew walking their way back to Chicago, or waiting for the cavalry to arrive too late to help fight. Joey can't even heal her cousin, that work already accomplished by the Godi. She doesn't speak when they all load into her awakened Camaro. Conversation on the drive, if there's any at all, is limited to the kinsman, the Godi, and the Galliard. Maybe he'll draw an image from this night on some stretch of sidewalk somewhere, on the brick face of a wall, and maybe that image will be this:

Joey behind the wheel, barely able to keep herself from frenzy when she finds she can't get through, can't get there in time. Or maybe he'll be kind. Maybe he'll draw the blonde Rotagar facing a Fimbul wolf, impossibly blue eyes glittering as it closes its jaws over her arm.

Joey doesn't know if Nate will draw up anything from tonight, and at the end of the night she doesn't care. People are dropped where they need to be, Matthew at his home, Blood Summons and Nate back at the Caern. Tires squeal, and Joey drives off into the night.

No one sees her again until late the next morning. She doesn't answer her packmates if they call for her. They just know she's there, can feel her presence on the totem bond as steadily as it's ever been.

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Every Fenrir kinfolk in the city receives a strange, blank envelope, slipped onto the floor just inside their homes. There's no sign of forced entry, and no explanation as to just how the damn things got there. The envelopes are perfectly ordinary, the kind you get in hundred packs at the office supply store. Some bear a smeared, rust colored fingerprint. When opened, a simple silvery stainless steel ring falls out, cheap but somewhat sturdy, the kind sold at craft stores or in gift shops for little more than five bucks a pop.

There's also a note. The handwriting is simple but bold, blocky:

WEAR THIS OR ELSE

Beneath that is an explanation of what the rings really are, instructions on how to activate them, Joey's name, and where she can be found if they need a new one. There is no promise of protection, no claim that she'll watch out for them, that she'll come running to their aid should they call. Just a ring and a note.

=======
When Joey finally returns to The Brotherhood, she's a mess. Her face and arms and hands are covered in blood. It's in her hair and stains her dark clothes. Her rage is gone, and she just looks tired to anyone who happens to see her when she stops in the bathroom for a shower or when she crosses the hallway, naked as the day she was born, to her room. She doesn't come out again until evening.

--

[Joey] It's a nice day to be outside. The weather is balmy but pleasant, and the sun isn't scorching. At least, this is what Joey thinks. Chicago has finally reached 'tolerable' for her. This is the time when she gets back at the rest of the city for thinking the winter was not all that bad, when the Rotagar was constantly buried beneath several layers of winter clothing.

Today she's outside in a light and faded tee. Those worn to hell jeans have finally been turned into a pair of cut-offs. Her hair is bound back from her face courtesy of a red and white bandanna, and she's wearing her old work boots. She's not going for style, not when she's leaned over the engine of her Camaro.

[Imogen] Sometime in the early afternoon, Imogen leaves work.

Though it has been some time since she's graced her condominium with her presence, she does not go home. She parks her Aston Martin in the Brotherhood's lot and picks up her purse from the floor, a small white envelope tucked inside.

A figure catches her attention, and when she turns her head, she cannot help but smirk faintly at the coincidence.

Well, at least she did not need to enter the building.

The kinwoman crosses the parking lot toward the Camaro, her footfall sharp and clicking with her heels against the pavement. She is dressed in business attire, black slacks and a pale grey blouse beneath a tailored suit jacket. Her hair is vibrant against the monochrome of her attire, her skin ghostly pale.

"I received your gift," the Englishwoman says as the distance closes, one hand sliding into her purse to slide out the envelope, faintly creased.

"May I ask what prompted it?"

[Joey] Joey hears the clack of heels and cants her head, her attention still focused on the parts beneath her hands. For now, she's just checking it over, looking for anything that might have been thrown out of whack during a madcap drive from the woods last night.

The breeding reaches her about the same time the voice does, immediately identifying the kinswoman. Joey straightens, turns, and hooks her thumbs into the pockets of her cut-offs. She's wearing a patch over her left eye, triangle shaped and designed in shades of blue and grey and green. She notes the kinswoman's appearance, sophisticated as usual, at least in the eye of the Rotagar.

When Joey notes the envelope Imogen is removing from her purse, her brows furrow, then one quirks. She meets the kinswoman's gaze, and says, "My cousin just got into Chicago 'bout a week ago, an' already got his ass snatched by Spirals. We almost weren't able to save 'im." We, she says, as if she had really been able to help in the 'rescue attempt' at all. "We're at war, Doc. Means it could happen to any of you. I'm not sayin' you're gonna get grabbed, an' I'm not sayin' the rings're a guarantee we'll be able to get to anyone that gets taken." She sniffs, clears her throat. "But, if it happens, it'd sure be nice if we could find out before anyone's in Elk Grove, y'know?"

[Imogen] Joey meets Imogen's eyes and the kinwoman does not flinch. She holds her attention, silent and intent, as Joey explains.

Most kinfolk do not have the directness that this one does. Most of them do not have the strength.

You know? the Rotagar finishes.

"I understand," she says, her voice even. Her attention drops to the envelope in her hand. A moment's pause before a decision is made.

"As much as I appreciate the effort," she says, holding it out for Joey to take, "it would be best you gave it to someone who would make better use of it."

[Joey] There are some Garou who would be offended at Imogen's direct stare. Joey is not one of them. She looks from Imogen to the envelope. After only a second or two, she reaches out to take it back. There's a smudge on it, rust colored, a half-formed and smeared fingerprint. When she takes it, she can feel the weight of the ring inside.

There are a lot of reasons why Joey simply takes back the offered talen. The most obvious, the one most likely, the one most people would probably think is the correct one, is that this is Imogen Slaughter. She is more renowned for her Glory than most Cliaths. Another reason, she is Silence's mate. If an Athro can't protect his own mate, why would a Cliath No Moon think she would be able to?

But the rings are not mandatory for the Kinfolk to keep. Maybe Joey expects to get all of them back, all of them except the one given to Eli. Whatever her reasons, Imogen tells her it would be best if she gave it to someone who would make better use of it, and Joey just says, "Alright." The envelope gets folded, and folded again, then tucked into her back pocket.

[Imogen] Briefly, the corner of her mouth turns up - though the expression is far too sparse to be a smile. It is more an easing of tension.

"Thank-you," her simple reply. "Ha' a good night."

With that, the kinwoman turns away, crossing the parking lot back towards her car.

[Joey] "You, too," she says. Joey doesn't tell Imogen to stay safe, or be careful, or watch herself.

She just turns back to her car. After a brief inspection, she closes the hood and heads inside.