Night's Reprieve's Responsibilities

[Imogen] Imogen lives in a small neighbourhood of downtown, with a series of rowhouses and older buildings pushed closely together, the yards and green space eaten away by the inevitable march toward urbanization.

The snow here is promptly ploughed, leaving wide swathes cut between the snow banks for sidewalks, and carefully salted and cleared roads. It is a neighbourhood of successful young urban professionals and affluent, city-centric retirees, and the care taken of the area is representative of that.

In other words, it is a far cry from the unploughed ghetto streets and dead lightbulbs of the neighbourhood around the church.

There is a small cluster of high rise condos, well placed for their view of either the lake or Chicago's well-known skyline. The edifices boast twenty-four hour security guards, laundry in every unit and a dishwasher, along with the usual amenities. From time to time, the buildings have clever signs, 'If you lived here, you would be home' and the like.

They likely cost more money than Linus or his pack could ever dream of having, or even borrowing from a bank.

The slight redhead approaches the building on foot, her heeled boots crunching softly on the sidewalk. In one hand, she carries a leather brief case. She wears a wool coat, but the weather is unseasonably warm, so she leaves it open, her scarf still secured about her neck.

[Linus] "...Given the penchant for Fenrir worth, I find a place like this well outside of the paygrade and practicality of expectation."

His face is all screwed up, crushed together by some post-adolescent judgment that is at once unreserved and entirely honest. He stands a small ways off to the side of the building's main entrance, having been there for quite some time if the Security guard in the lobby's entrance and his almost vehement staredown from inside the glass walls, was any indication. That he hadn't come out to scold or warn Linus off by now was telling of some things and others.

The Godi is dressed in a pair of black cargo pants, the pockets all done up and pouting with filled bits and pieces of various things, unknown. His jacket is half again to mid-thigh, while the thick hoodies, two of them, beneath are layered to keep out most of the cold that might make it past the jacket. His head is newly shaved, just barely visible under the shallow pull of both hoods, while hands are tucked into jacket pockets to chase away what cold seems to be missing from the air.

His face is slightly red, like he had been standing by the Lake, absorbing the wind. His skin around that red is pale, eyes tinged with the chuckling aberrant that the Doctor might be familiar with by now, except for the dark patches. Long shadows under the rich brown eyes, telling more tales. Spirit walker. Fenrir. A suggestion more than a claim, perhaps.

"...But then, that's you all over. Sort of outside of expectation..." The smile that's on his face, wholly selfish (not for you or anyone else) like he was a celebrant of anything he could find, begins to fade somewhat as she comes upto the Lobby doors. He doesn't approach or move to follow, but stands with hands in pockets, letting that smile die until it's just the tired circles. Just the quiet regard.

"Nights~Reprieve..." He mentions the name, like the Doctor might know him. Like it's an indication as to why he's here.

[Imogen] There'd been a time her building had been unable to keep a security guard for more than a month. One had stand an unheard of ninety days.

It has been some time since the building staff had needed to deal with a no-notice quit, often curiously timed around the full moon. This gentleman has been in the position for nearly eight months. If things remain as they are, he will remain so for another four or five, at least.

He does not, however, have the balls to challenge a Garou near the steps. None of them ever did.

Imogen turns her head toward Linus as he speaks, her steps slowing to a stop as she turns to face him. She arches an eyebrow as offers his opinion of her, a sort of quiet scepticism.

Before she has the opportunity to ask if he has finished, he changes tracks, uttering a single word. The eyebrow settles again and the redhaired kinswoman cants her head, a few strands of vibrant hair falling loose from behind the dam of her ear.

"What about him?" she asks.

[Linus] "I've talked to a few of the birds in the city..." He moves forward, eyes flicking from her to the Security Guard in the window, almost as if to dare the fellow to step outside. The closing approach heralds a brief hint of something Imogen is used to dealing with in spades: Rage. A whiff beneath the nose, barely registered on the Godi and yet present. It brings out the irritability with abrupt clarity and flexes some small muscle in his upper lip that forces it to curl briefly and back to calm again in an instant.
The Guard seems unphased but then, that could be the glass and his long standing 'career' so far talking.
"...told me a few things about the Man and what he was doing in the city as far as his deals went. I've picked up a few of them and closed off a bunch of others but one of the whispers brought me to your name and doorstep. Or more accurately..."

And he holds at a comfortable few feet distance, narrowing his eyes are her as if still trying to defeat some semblance of...disbelief?

"...Drove? I gotta say, my list of possible Mirror bodies attached to the Good Doctor Slaughter did not include Toy Cars..."

[Imogen] She allows herself a small grimace. "My list of possible ..." a pause, before she waves a hand, dismissing the word she is not sure she heard correctly, "It did not include toy cars or anything else."

She lifts a hand to her face, brushing back stray strands with a leather-gloved hand. "So," she says, "what's t'be done about it?"

[Linus] "A few things possibly, but that's more up to what the hell it does and, or is..."

He moves around her, staring up at her building an odd measured pacing made half-round her stationary place, almost as if he might begin to circle her (still a few feet separating), though his attention seems settled on the building itself. His jaw works outward a little and his hands finally slip free of pockets.

"Need to take a look. Any information you have about what it was and is meant to do, would also help as well as the agreement you had with Nights~Reprieve so I can justify whether or not to maintain or waive the Contract." and finally he turns to look back at her, brows quirked over tired eyes.

[Roman Turner] (I am invading! Which should tell you that you two fit my comfort zone.)
to Imogen, Linus

[Linus] (Haha, go for it. Linus is on a small errand. They're just outside of Imogen's building Lobby)

[Roman Turner] "Why are we outside in the cold?"

His nose was just a little redder than the rest of his face where the cold wind had his eyes narrowed, glistening as if they watered. A scarf was wrapped around his lower face, leaving cheeks and those watery blue-gray eyes showing. One gloved hand rose to hold the Stetson down when the wind tugged at it, sending the ends of the scarf in a wild dance.

[Imogen] She does not quite turn with him, instead watching him until he moves fully behind her, and then turning to look at him over the other shoulder, as he comes into her sight-line again.

"The car was used by th'Eagles," she says. "They were a pack here in Chicago," that she explains this is a nod to the fact that she knows he was not in the city when the Eagles were strong - and a nod to the fact that she is unaware that he would possibly know of them anyway, or at least, their well-known alpha.

"It was somehow involved in th'protection o' their packhouse, though I am not sure how. It was created by a Godi known as Joss - I'm not sure o' her full-blooded name. It took a -" a pause, a shrug, "likin' to me. It used t'escape and find me whenever it could. Joss died. The Eagles are no more. I thought th'car was th'same. It found me a few months ago.

"Night's Reprieve's deal was tha' it would sleep for most of the moon cycle. And tha' every full moon, he will wake it, and I'll be there fer it."

She lifts her shoulders and lets them fall, "At least that was my part o' the deal. I got th'impression there was more."

[Imogen] She flicks a glance toward Roman as he approaches them from the sidewalk. "Hello, Roman," she says, in lieu of answering his question.

[Roman Turner] "Howdy Miss Doctor Slaughter Ma'am. Why are we out in the cold where ya might take a chill?"

[Linus] "...Fun."

He does not sound enthused, head shaking as she explains the situation with the Eagles and the resultant upheavel of this...leftover. "Gossamer~Wing~rhya" An absent correction to her lack of knowledge of Joss' proper Title. A fellow Godi and an Eagle to the end, yes most of the Tribe in America would be familiar with the notorious Pack of Chicago's brighter days and their inevitable Fall from Grace.

"...We're here-" He offers to Roman, without looking back at the Ragabash, instead turning still to look over the building once more with something akin to curiosity. Or scrutiny "-because Nights~Reprieve left behind a few ghost contracts with some of the Spirits in the city. I'm not going to leave those to lie in the dust. Most of them are done except for this one..."

And finally around on the Ragabash and the Good Doctor, rubbing at one eye with the heel of a gloved hand.

"Sounds like a gaffling at best. Anything larger would warrant something pretty noticeable and make you a target, rather than just something odd. Protection at the house might have been some sort of Alarm system or warning for Umbral efforts though..." And his face screws up again.

"Why the fuck a Toy Car of all things?" Head shaking again, eyes flipping back to Imogen. "Where is it?"

[Roman Turner] " Little things always seem less than they can be. They are easily overlooked."

He sort of recalled Imogen with the little car one other time.

[Imogen] Gossamer Wing - and Imogen merely moves a hand in a faint motion indicating lack of knowledge. She may have known once, she may have simply ignored it as unimportant. He tells her now, and she disregards it as unimportant. Deed names do not hold the same connection to a kinfolk as it might a Garou.

"It may ha' been an alarm system," she offers, absently. "It has sirens."

Roman asks Imogen why she is out here where she can get cold. She casts him a glance. "I'm tougher than I look," she says, her breath misting in the building's light.

"His room," she answers the second question and not the first. "At least it was, the last I checked. At th'Brotherhood."

[Linus] He offers a nod to Roman, jaw working a brief circuit again.
"Yeah, tiny packages and their punches. Just like you, squirt!" He claps the No Moon on the shoulder.
"Brotherhood?" A brow perks. "That this half-way house I keep hearing about? What the hell is it with this place and it's public buffet tables? S'like you go asking for Trouble to come knocking with a case of the munchies."

[Imogen] Imogen raises her hands in response to Linus's question. "I'm not th'one to ask. S'not my idea."

[Roman Turner] "Big things, small packages."

He had to do a little foot shifting to keep from stumbling under the unexpected clap to his shoulder.

"Sparrow told me when we first hit town that it wasn't the best place for me to hang out. And considering Sparrow liked trouble, I was sort of surprised but kept to seldom visiting the place."

[Linus] "...I stand by my previous statements about this Protectorate..."

He mutters pulls a face that would be suggestive of a politically incorrect 'Retard' before stuffing his hands in his pockets and nodding at Imogen.

"Appreciate the time Doc. I'll go take a look at this car. If the contract is worth maintaining, I'll keep you appraised, but to be honest the whole thing sounds a little too frivolous for me to waste time or effort on that can be better used elsewhere. If you can find some other Spirit talker outside of the Tribe you might be able to have better luck, but that's on you."

[Roman Turner] He held his hands up with Linus' assessment of the Protectorate.

"Life is strange. Those here have become relaxed. They desire the company of other wolves, but the way they choose to find it is not the most intelligent thing I've seen. Then again, I ain't been on the earth so long. There's a wise saying though that ya need to consider at all times. Change comes with each new season. Maybe it's your season Linus to plant new crops?"

[Imogen] Imogen lifts an eyebrow, "Far be it for me t'force a Godi or Theurge to participate in 'frivolous' matters," she says archly. "I'm not attached to the car nor the spirit inside it. If releasin' it from its contract is the right thing t'do, be my guest."

(sorry that took so long!)

[Linus] Linus stares blandly at Roman for a moment.

"Your farming analogies? Bring me endless joy, No-moon." Then a glance is cast at Imogen. "That's Godi, Doctor and you aren't forcing me to do anything." It wasn't an apology as much as a statement of fact. He clucks his tongue and takes a step back, eyes glancing to Roman again.

"If you run into Rain or Trent in the next bit, tell 'em we're out of Pickles. I'll be back later tonight."

[Roman Turner] "Ya in the family way, Linus? Want me to tell them ya need Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream too?"

[Linus] He snorts, already heading off into the distance.

"Ain't for me, they're for Kora. You want to be the one to tell her we're out of pickles, be my guest."

[Roman Turner] "Sure I will, cause I didn't eat em!"

He called after Linus.

"But ya bet I will tell her the orders ya got for Trent."

He was already smiling with the thought of causing mischief.

[Linus] (Hahaha, alright. I'm gonna jet for a bit guys. Thanks for the play, sorry it was brief. Shall return latah!)

[Imogen] Imogen watches Linus leave, with a bit of an ironic look. "Bit o' a know it all, isn't he just?" she enquires, mildly.

[Roman Turner] "He knows it all, but he doesn't do anything to change things. He's also a bit bossy with Kin. It don't work so well on me. For instance, I will tell Kora that Linus said he ate all her pickles and that she should send Trent out straight away to get him some new ones."

[Imogen] Imogen smirks faintly. "A bit bossy," she echoes. "And perhaps not as smart as he thinks. S'not necessary fer him to lecture me on Fenrir auspices."

She draws the edge of her coat together.

"I'm goin' t'head inside," she says. "Yeh weren't here because yeh needed something, were you?"

[Roman Turner] "No ma'am, I was more or less following Mister Grumpy Pants."

The faint smile he gave was more apologetic than anything.

"He ain't too good with social graces, I think Miss Kora got all the charm. I believe I'll put a little bug in her ear to let her know she needs to thump him a bit. Ya catch more flies with honey than vinegar."

Each word came out on a white puff of breath on the cold air.

"Ya have yourself a mighty fine evenin Miss Doctor Slaughter, Ma'am."

One gloved hand lifted the Stetson by the crown as he gave her a polite nod before replacing the hat. Not another word spoken as he turned to leave without oogling her when she could directly see him do it.

[Imogen] He'll put a bug in Kora's ear. "S'not necessary on my account," she says dismissively, turning to leave as he wishes her a good night. "And you."

From her handbag, she retrieves a keycard, which she swipes at the door. She enters into the lobby where the security guard eyes her warily, not for her own self, but for the company she keeps. Soon afterwards, she enters an elevator and begins to ascend the floors to her building.