I'd Rather a Fenrir

[ENN ARGHH] Early evening. A storm brews overhead and the clouds seem heavy, like any minute it's going to start pissing down. Night's Reprieve walks with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, dried mud on his knees and work boots, a red and white cotton plaid shirt hanging loosely from his built frame. He wanders aimlessly it seems, with no haste in his step or concern in his eyes. The full moon is yet to come up fully; it's glow can be seen shimmering through the clouds just above the horizon and it fades in an out of view between the towering buildings.

And then comes the rain.

It starts suddenly, forcefully. One second it feels like it's going to rain and the next it is completely bucketing down like god just turned on the shower. Within moments NR's face is soaked and his hair is dripping water. So he steps off the street, through a doorway into a quiet looking sports bar and heads to the bar. A single malt is placed in front of him and he stirs it with his index finger absently.

[Imogen] "Yeh don't want the malts from 'round 'ere," Imogen's voice comes from behind the Garou, deliberately timed so as not to startle him as she comes up beside him. Or, perhaps, deliberately timed for when the 'tender has moved out of reach.

"Beers the only good thing in a bar like this." She sets her glass down, but does not entirely join him; she does not sit down. The kinwoman casts him a glance - up and down, though it is without admiration or sexuality. He is soaking wet, and that is what she catalogues.

"Got caught in the rain, did you?" a smirk twists her mouth.

Dr. Slaughter, for her part, is dry, her hair pulled back from her face, clipped up, a few pins in her hair for the errant strands. One or two have still escaped and she pushes them back from her eyes. Dressed still in black slacks and a blouse beneath a blazer, she looks ready for the office - only a few tell-tale creases in the wear of her clothing suggests its the end of her business day.

[ENN ARGHH] His chin lifts with the lazy reaction of a relaxed predator. Turning to his side he smirks back at her and deliberately takes a long sip of the drink, sloshing it around in his mouth before swallowing. He doesn't respond about the single malt straight away, instead he lowers his own eyes to look up and down her dry form and then compares it to his own.

"Yeah, seems that way don't it." His nostrils flare a moment and he licks over his upper lip briefly. "I think you're right about the malt."

A little grin and the glass is placed back on the bar with a low clinking.

"Busy day Dr. Slaughter?"

[Imogen] She's slight - even standing, while he sits, he can see that. Her bones are narrow, her muscles long and lithe, little between that and her skin. She wears heels, but even so, were he standing, she'd be three quarters of a foot beneath him.

There's football (he might call it soccer) on the television over the bar. Every once and a while, her gaze flicks there, barely acknowledging the plays.

"It generally is," she answers, lifting her glass to her lips, casting him a glance.

"What brings yeh down 'ere?"

[ENN ARGHH] His hand reaches for the stool next to him and he slides it out from the bar. The gesture is obvious, take a seat Imogen. The soccer on TV seems to be of no interest to the Godi; his attention is focused solely on the glass in front of him and the kinswoman beside him. Some how the water slowly drying on his face doesn't seem out of place. He has the look of someone who has spent his entire life outside. His skin is tanned, his body hard and bulky though he seems to lack the excruciating definition gained from hours spent in a gym. A man of labour it seems.

"Just getting away from the grind of it all for a bit. It appears endless sometimes." The way he puts it makes it unclear if he is talking about work or life in general. He downs the rest of his drink in one go like it's water and waves the bartender. He receives a dark beer this time.

"What do you do exactly for work anyway? Dr. Slaughter is rather ominous a name for a GP."

[Imogen] There's a moment's pause before Imogen takes a seat, as if taking a seat beside a Garou warranted consideration; maybe it does. Still, she does take a seat, setting one foot on the stool's run, the other, the toe resting on the floor, a point of balance.

She is sleek compared to his strength, gym-kept, not war-kept. Her hardness is emotional far more than physical.

When he says it's endless, she casts him a glance, dark eyes resting directly on his face, as if rage and gibbous moons had no affect on her. A moment later, she looks away. "Indeed."

His question provokes another smirk, though she hides it with the lift of her glass. "I'm not a GP," she says, first, before taking a swallow of her own dark beer. "I'm a forensic pathologist. S'someone who studies and categorizes unexpected and unattended deaths.

"Bit more suited to my name, some say." She sets her glass back down with a muted tap.

[ENN ARGHH] Her gaze is held when she rests her eyes on him but other than that there is no reaction to her looking him directly in the face. In fact it's not until that she finishes speaking that he removes his stare from her and he does it with a short bark of laughter. There's genuine mirth in his outburst, and genuine mirth in the smile and spreads over his face.

"Aye, some say that do they? I guess that explains your interest in the birds last week."

The beer is raised, sipped at and the taste of it seems to please the Godi because he lets out a little murmuring of appreciation as the glass leaves his lips.

"Oh I got myself some Shakespeare to read awhile back, took some time finishing it but I got there in the end. Richard Eye-Eye-Eye.. " A narrowing of his brows as if he's thinking about what he just said followed by "No wait.. Richard the third is it?"

[Imogen] "Well," a moment's beat between one word and the next, "that was a bit off piste, but more or less, yes."

Her eyebrow arches slightly as he says 'eye-eye-eye', pronouncing roman numerals the way a child might - or a Garou with no appreciable human education, then she nods as he catches himself. "That's it. Richard III. 'Now is the winter of our discontent." The quotes seems to come to her easily.

A pause as she takes a sip. "If yeh enjoyed yourself, yeh should read the Henry the Sixth plays - that's Henry Vee-Eye," the edge of her mouth twists slightly, "As they're prequels t'that play. There are three o' them and Shakespeare more or less assumed yeh had seen them, when he wrote his conclusion."

[ENN ARGHH] During that slight pause he finishes off her quote. "Made glorious summer by this son of York" And maybe that answers her almost-question about whether he enjoyed himself or not. Even if it doesn't, his next response soon does.

"Oh.." A slight mm from between his lips and then "That makes more sense, maybe I'm not as hopeless at this as I think. It was very confusing in some parts, but enjoyable nonetheless. Even if it was a little depressing."

His tall glass of beer is raised, sipped from and after that he nods his head. "I think I will." He says, almost more to himself than to her. "I think I will check this Henry Vee-Eye out." There's a playful quirk in the corner of his lips for her at the last part.

And here comes the abrupt change of topic. His legs turn with his whole body until he's facing her and the grin is gone from his lips. "Do you remember what I said, about not doing things for yourself or for us?"

[Imogen] "Well, yeh didn't exactly pick the easiest play fer yer first." He found it confusing in some parts.

He changes the subject suddenly and without warning. Her eyebrow arches, and though she does not turn to face him as he has, she turns her head, watching him along the line of her shoulder.

"I do," she says after a moment.

[ENN ARGHH] His own eyebrow mirrors hers.

"What do you think I was implying by that?" A pause. "Or better yet, what do you think that implies now?"

[Tsi'la Yanisan] She's actually getting out and about. There was a project that had to be worked on, and to get just what she wanted, that required leaving Chinatown. Leaving with a set goal in mind even. Almost a strange concept by itself lately, but it was something accomplished. And just maybe her time with the goofy and fun Fang kin was starting to rub off on her a little. She had a day away from familiar territory for shopping, and found herself wanting more. It's been peaceful, quiet, and interesting.

And after accomplishing one goal, why not accomplish others.

She stands infront of the sports bar, looking up at the name of it. Her eyes come down to the door, one hand smoothing over her skirt nervously, the other holding a shopping bag. And after a long moment of standing there awkwardly, she steps in. The leg brace keeping her leg stiff, and the day of being out walking around starting to wear on her now. The need for something to whet her throat and sit for a few minutes croaching on her.

[Imogen] Imogen exhales a breath a little sharply - after a moment, he might realize it's amusement, given the way her lips twist.

"I don't mean to be rude," she says, "but I didn't spend a lot o' time parsin' yer words fer hidden meanings. Why don't yeh tell me what you're tryin' t'tell me now and we can skip the riddle, eh?" Her eyebrow arches.

A glance toward the door, and Tsi'la as she limps in, searching for food and drink. "Met 'er?" a lift of her chin indicates whom she means.

[ENN ARGHH] She doesn't want to waste time playing games; she doesn't want to engage in riddles with the Godi. That brings a wry curling of his mouth and his hand waves off her mention of being rude.

"No rudeness there, it just.. " And he pushes his elbow onto the bar beside his glass, lowering his chin down into an open palm. "It reminded me of someone familiar.. And in that respect.." His voice is lowered quite considerably. "It is very us-like of you."

His head turns to the entrance of Jeela and he waves a large palm at her.

[Imogen] This time, her exhaled breath has a bit of a sharper edge to it. "You meant that as a compliment, I'm sure." Her tone suggests it was not.

He raises a hand toward Tsi'la, and though the kinwoman does not do the same, she does glance at the woman, inclining her head in something like a greeting. She lifts her pint glass back to her lips, her gaze flicking toward the television before coming back again.

[Tsi'la Yanisan] There's a sea of faces, so unfamiliar, but in that sea, there is two that aren't. Like little beacons of light that draw the eyes. One of them with bright, vibrant red hair. The doctor... Doctor Slaughter she was called. She brings a smile to her lips. Warm, friendly. A soft nod of greeting to her.

The other face, no less familiar, gets a flicker of an uncertain gaze. He gets a polite nod, and a small wave back to him. But luck has it on her side, apparently. She has purpose to see him, even if she's still a bit sketchy about it with how things played out the last time she saw him. She gives herself a brief moment to hesitate, and glance back at the door before she makes up her mind, and turns towards them to move that way.

[ENN ARGHH] Before Jeela makes it to them NR has another few words for Imogen regarding their topic of conversation. He knows what she means by that statement, he knows what she is thinking, what she thinks he is thinking. Or at least he would like to think he does.

"It was no compliment or insult, just observation. Whether you like it or not, whether I like it or not, the actions speak for themselves. The motives speak for themselves. My words were void of opinion, though if you were to have one from me it would be of.. curiosity.. interest.. It's rather odd behaviour from one of your kind. It's a rather odd mindset."

[Imogen] Regardless of what he knows what she is thinking about what he is thinking, or so he thinks (... or something. It's all tangled), she attends to what he says - she listens.

"I am not," she says, words which are devoid of pride or boastfulness, "like most half-bloods." A beat, before she adds, the corner of her mouth turning slightly downward, then easing, "For better or worse."

Tsi'la's approached now, and Imogen greets her almost absently as she picks up her glass. "Hello."

[Tsi'la Yanisan] She folds the fingers of her free hand over the hand holding the bag, giving each of them a polite smile and a nod as she draws close, and stops. "Good evening Doctor... and Mister Reprieve."

A look to the seats at the bar, and she sets the bag down next to an empty one, turning the seat and then herself to lift and perch on the edge of it, ordering a soda to start with.

[ENN ARGHH] She is not like most half bloods. She states the obvious, but it is more an end to the conversation than anything else, so Night's Reprieve lets it go. Jeela is here now anyway.

"Good to see you out of chinatown Jeela, what brings you here?"

[Imogen] Imogen, having already offered her greeting and not being addressed in Night's Reprieve's question, merely drains the last of her beer, pushing it forward for the bar tender to notice and hopefully, provide her with a fresh refill.

(ack, sorry!)

[Tsi'la Yanisan] She gives NR a sheepish sort of smile, and a shrug. "I had some shopping to do, and was looking for a decent tv and dvd player to put in at the shop. Bai said he would watch movies with me but he doesn't have anything to watch them with. So... that's what brought me out. Chinatown has little in the ways of something I wouldn't be worried about being legal to purchase, and apparently most of them don't believe in warranties."

She looks to Imogen again, and gives a smile. "Nice to see you again Doctor. Did you find someone to help you?"

[ENN ARGHH] While Jeela talks, NR polishes off his beer in a quick fashion. The empty glass clinks against the top of the bar and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Don't know much about all that stuff" He says, after licking over his lips. "What did you need help with Dr. Slaughter?"

[Imogen] "No," she answers mildly as she picks up her recently filled pint glass, "Not as yet, thank you."

She is still a moment as Night's Reprieve follows up on it, and does not immediately speak. When she does, it is simple, off-hand.

"I ha' a car - a toy car - from a crescent moon. She's dead now; but the car sought me out. S'got a spirit in it, or somethin'." She takes a deeper drought of her drink, before saying to Tsi'la.

"I think there's a refurbished stereo store 'r somethin' in the suburbs. 'Just Like New' or some-such."

[Tsi'la Yanisan] She nods to Imogen, chewing on her lip a bit. "If... you like I could ask Bai about it. Maybe he can help you then? He's not overly busy right now, and it might be good for him to have something to focus on." She does smile to the mention of the store, and nods. "Thank you, yes. I'll check into it."

She looks to NR, chewing on her lip. Still debating on whether or not to follow through with what she wanted to speak with him about. After a moment of chewing on her lip, and thought, she glances to Imogen, then back to NR. "I'm sorry about that mess last time I saw you."

[ENN ARGHH] There's a toy car, with a spirit in it. It found Imogen. This is something the Godi can sink his teeth into, something he could maybe help with and he begins to say as much.

"I could--"

But there is Jeela, bringing up old ghosts though possibly without meaning to. He narrows his eyes at her, the look is harsh, harsher than he intends and he sucks his cheeks in and pushes himself out of his chair.

"Don't worry about it, it wasn't your fault." There's a brief pause and then "We all did what we had to do. Give me a shout Doc, if you still need help. I can talk to the spirit for you if Bai won't."

Another pause while he contemplates something, by the next words are a simple goodbye. "Thanks for the chat, cya Jeela. Stay out of trouble."

And then he's leaving.

[Imogen] Imogen's eyebrow arches slightly at Night Reprieve's sudden departure. "Look you up, shall I," she says, without the intonation of the question.

As he leaves, she'll turns her head slightly to Tsi'la. "No offence t'yer Bai," she says. "But I'll check wi' him," a tilt of her head indicating the Godi's departing back, "first. S'a bit more fittin'."

[Tsi'la Yanisan] She winces a little, and looks down at the soda set infront of her. He's leaving. She had sort of meant to bring up the old ghosts, but not in the ways he might think. She gives him an apologetic look, then glances back over to Imogen and falls quiet for a moment, before giving a parting nod to him. "I just wanted to say I was sorry. She was a sweet, wonderful girl, and one I wanted very much to be able to call friend."

And she actually puffs a little. Brows knitting into a frown. Something close to ruffled feathers, with a tiny flare of her nostrils. The look comical on the kin who doesn't have an imposing bone in her body. "He's not mine. But he can... speak with your toy car."

[ENN ARGHH] [eek thanks for RP!]

[Imogen] He's not mine, and Imogen merely arches an eyebrow.

Imogen shakes her head slightly, saying more bluntly this time: "I'd rather a Fenrir," there is no cruelty in her tone, which is merely quiet, mild.

"But thank-you, all the same."

Her phone chimes in her purse and she reaches down, retrieving it from a hook beneath the bar. She glances at it before getting to her feet, returning the phone to her handbag and retrieving her billfold to drop cash on the bar to cover her drinks, leaving the last unfinished.

"I've got t'go," she says. "Enjoy yer," her gaze flicks to the drink, before concluding, "soda. Goodnight."

[Tsi'la Yanisan] She nods understandingly to that, giving her a smile. "I take no offense. It was just an offer." She reaches out and picks up her glass, sipping at it.

"It was nice to see you again Doctor. Be safe" She starts settling a little, turning in the seat to let the woman get back to business.