Seth

[Seth Cohen] No more than a mile from Navy Pier, a con artist is hard at work.

The cold weather and bitter wind have kept the profit margins low, but the only real cure for an empty belly is a pocket full of cash. It is this belief that keeps Seth at his chosen post beneath a dim streetlamp. His dark, sharp eyes watch every passerby carefully. Tonight he is a predator, the tourists and the seemingly wealthy his prey. A pair of stacked cardboard boxes provide a table on which the young criminal can work his scam. It's a simple one, really. Tried and true is the classic game of Three Card Monte. It's not subtle, and typically you can only hook the very naive. But the first rule of the con artist is to always remember that People Are Stupid. One out of ten can be lured in by the promise of easy cash.

And so he waits, patient and clever. Three playing cards are spread face-up on his "desk" where everyone can see them. He has already made thirty dollars in the past hour and a half. A few more marks and he'll be eating steak tonight. He smiles to himself when he spots his next potential player, a heavyset man with a baseball cap reading "I Heart Chi-Town" above the brim and a camera dangling from a strap around his neck. Perfect.

"Hey hey, Big Man! Step on over here, my friend, give the cards a shot! First hands on me, it's a game so simple even my five year old brother can win a fifty-spot playing! Come on over, I'll show you how it works. You got nothing to lose but a little time!"

[Hunter] He just can't take it.

The sitting, the waiting, the god damn looking out the window. He isn't waiting for a long lost lover--though it feels like that sometimes--no, he's waiting for the night so he can hunt again. Days during the full moon are the worst. There are people god damn everywhere. The city feels like one of those termite mounds in the South American plains, every man and his dog is crowded in to avoid the inevitable wash of flame outside. And Hunter is stuck right in the middle of it, looking at faces that don't look back, ordering drink and food from people whose hands shake. A veritable sea of irrational fear and panic wherever he goes.

But it's either that or he waits, looks out the god damn window, and as stated; he really just can't take that.

So he moves and he walks through a park that is choca with people and they never look him in the eye for longer than they have to, but at least he's outside, at least it won't be long till he can stretch inhuman limbs and chase down something worth killing.

For now he stops before a game. Green eyes, brown hair, he wears a grey zip-up hoodie over a black t-shirt. The hood is pulled up over his head and his hands are stuffed into the pocket at the base of it. The game he sees across the lane is one involve three cards and he watches as an obvious tourist indulges himself.

Hunter waits for the man with the baseball cap to leave before he approaches, looks at Seth, asks simple:

"Hows'it all fuckin' work then?"

[Imogen] Her hair is a flash of bright red amid the varied crowd. It's thinned out, the farther she's gotten from the Pier, but there are still tourists, the cheaper kind that stay at the low price hotels. The kind with shirts and hats that declare they love Chicago, with kids gripping their hands, carrying candy floss and speaking in tones best described as a well-honed whine.

She is not particularly suited among them, her clothing a little finer, a little less coarse, her attire far from the predictable Chicago-visitor. She wears jeans, a wool coat with an angora scarf at her throat. Her skin is pale and fine, refined by care and good genetics. Her boots are expensive, though restrained.

The slight woman slows as she sees a crowd, and more importantly, a space in the crowd surrounding a Garou. She studies it a moment before approaching, sidelong, keeping to the edge of the horseshoe surrounding the hustler.

At this angle, her height is not a disadvantage. She can see the fake table clearly, and as she draws closer, the hustler's new customer. Imogen's eyes narrow, her eyebrows drawing down, before the expression clears and she stops to watch.

[Seth Cohen] Seth watches with a frown as the tourist wanders off. A new mark approaches, and gets the same big smile he had just offered Big Boy. But there's something about this new guy, something Seth just can't put his finger on. The guy doesn't smell like a cop. Unfortunately, he also doesn't smell a lot like money. Still you can't work a con on only half the public, and there's a crowd forming. So he forces that smile and starts his pitch. "It's too simple my friend. All you gotta do is pick the Queen and I'll put twenty bucks right in your hand. Let's just be honest, couldn't that little extra bit of scratch go a long way around here? Hell, if you win I'm basically going to be buying you a lapdance at Tops and Tails down the street. And believe me, partner, those girls are very enthusiastic with their dancin'."

Again, it's not a subtle game he's playing. But...People Are Stupid. "Ok, this is how we play...see the Queen right here?" He holds up the Queen of Spades for Hunters inspection. "All you gotta do is pick her out after I shuffle, and it's cash in hand for you. You don't even have to put anything up yourself. Ready to play?"

Seths voice is just a hair tighter during his pitch to the newcomer. Something just doesn't feel right here.

[Hunter] Hunter frowns, peers at the owlet and raises an eyebrow. He doesn't know him, though he has seen quite a few of his tribe in Chicago over his time. He listens to the deal quietly, patiently, though he fidgets on the the spot and peers around. So much god damn breeding.

"Aight.. ain't got nuthin' to lose right?"

He nods down at the table.

"Watch'a waitin' for."

[Imogen] Imogen does not move or offer warning. She watches instead, her eyes on the hands on the cards.

[Seth Cohen] "Just waitin' for your say-so Boss, some people are uptight about making money the easy way." He flashes Hunter a quick wink and puts the cards in motion. Or, more accurately, slow motion. They get tossed from position to position smoothly, but at a speed that even a blind man could follow. Second rule of the con: Sometimes You Gotta Lose to Win. At last the cards come to a stop, each lined up perfectly with the next. Seth lifts his hands from the table and shows the crowd his palms. He speaks to Hunter, but his dark eyes continously dart to the redhead nearby. If there was money to be had at this table, she's the one who's holding it.

"Alright, Boss, let's see how good those eyes are. Pick the Queen, walk with the cash. Which one you want?"

[Hunter] [rannddommm]

[Hunter] Hunter watches the flow of cards, though he takes his eyes off them and looks around briefly in the middle of it. Someone familiar is nearby, he can just... tell.. he can't pick her out though. Maybe he's just going batshit.

Around they go, swapping back and forth and when it comes to a stop, Hunter points to the left card.

"That'one." He says lazily. He really did shuffle them slowly.

[Seth Cohen] Seth flips the chosen card face-up. Sure enough, the Queen appears. "Goddamn man, you've got a sharp eye. Well, let it never be said that I'm not a man of my word."

He reaches into his pocket and produces a crumpled twenty dollar bill which he promptly hands over to Hunter. There is a sharp pain that passes through his heart as he parts with the cash. Two-thirds of his profit gone. Time to make the big move. "There you are, twenty dollars for the man with the Devils luck. Tell you what Boss, why don't you step aside and give someone else a shot at some cash?"

He makes a show of looking over the small gathering, but his target was chosen before he had finished shuffling the cards for Hunter. His gaze drops right on Imogen. "There we go, how 'bout you Pretty Lady? C'mon, takes a Queen to spot a Queen and that means you. No freebies this time, though. You gotta pay to play, but you've seen I run a straight game. Hell, I'll even let you play for the lowest stakes I accept, ten dollars for a shuffle. Ready to test your pretty eyes?"

[Hunter] That was perhaps the easiest twenty dollars he has ever made in his life. But surely one of Hunters tribe isn't this green, surely this isn't the first time he has seen this trick. When Imogen is asked to play next Hunter locks eyes on her and grins, ah I'm not crazy. As he walks past he slips her the twenty.

"What goes around ye?" He whispers to her and takes a view point nearby.

[Imogen] Imogen does not answer immediately, her gaze fixed on the hustler, her eyes narrowed, thoughtful. Hunter passes her by, whispering something in her ear, his fingers pressing the cash into her palm. Imogen does not visible react, her fingers sliding into her jacket pocket, leaving the twenty there.

The first rule of hustling is: People are Stupid.

Imogen is anything but. However - she rather likes a challenge. Of any sort.

"Alright, then," says the foreign woman, her accent decidedly unAmerican, decidedly - something. European. British colonial. British. The burrs and clips are not quite the Queen's English. It's enough to obscure her country of origin, at least for those who are inexperienced.

She steps forward, her steps easy and concise, her gesture without fanfare as she sets a twenty on the table.

[Seth Cohen] The whisper between Hunter and Imogen, though unheard, does not go unnoticed. His own eyes narrow at the exchange. The possibility of a reverse scam is high now. The pair could be in league. But Fortune Favors the Bold...that's not a con-rule, just a fun code to live by. Seth eyes the twenty on the table. If he loses this one, its not just profits he'll be losing. It's seed money. This one has to count. He forces the confident smile back to life and nods, slapping a ten and two fives on his table. "Yes ma'am, I knew you were a gambler when I saw you. And I love that accent. Anybody ever tell you how sexy it is?"

When In Doubt, Turn On the Charm. Third rule.

Once again he holds up the Queen for inspection, then places it face-down to the far left where Hunter spotted it last. "Ok, here we go! Queen looking for a Queen ladies and gents, lets see how the cards love her tonight."

This time the cards move considerably faster. This is a game he has played a thousand times if he's played it once, and he's damned good. And damned quick. The switch happens in a heartbeat, the Queen of Spades palmed as a fourth card drops from Seths sleeve to replace it. The shuffle continues, long enough for the disappearing Queen to be slid up his sleeve with a flick of the wrist. Finally he lifts his open palms once more. "There we go Pretty Lady, take your pick and try to make some cash. Which one you want, baby?"

[Seth Cohen] ((Figured no need for rolls, free form is more fun))
to cricket, Hunter, Imogen

[Imogen] The charm is turned on, and answered only by a cool arch of an eyebrow. Imogen is a beautiful woman. She can see it in the admiring gaze of men, the way their gaze fix, sometimes. She sees it in women, as well, though the reactions are more varied.

The kinswoman watches him avidly, though does not stare at his hands. Much like the hustler, she has picked up the trait of subtlety, of slight of hand. To stare would be to tip him off. Still, she watches him, sometimes through the veil of lashes, sometimes simply. The game does not last long. He plays quickly, more quickly than he had with Hunter. More quickly than the bloke with the I (Heart) Chicago hat.

He asks which one she wants, and for a moment, she takes her time.

"I'd like the one up yer left sleeve, please," she says, mildly. "And fer you to stop calling me 'baby'."

[Hunter] A snicker is heard in the background. Actually, it is more like a very loud bark of laughter, obnoxious almost if it didn't sound so friendly. The silent people near Hunter take yet another step away from him and he goes quiet grinning at Imogen and Seth.

[Seth Cohen] His eyes widen for an instant when she calls him out. He's been caught; it happens. But this woman did it so casually it's almost embarrassing. The prescence of the crowd doesn't help anything. If they turn mob on him, he'll have to fall back on rule number four: Run Like Hell.

Regaining his composure, he offers Imogen a weak grin. "You do have a sharp eye ba-...Miss. Tell you what; you pick up your money, and I'll pick up mine. Then we all walk away without any trouble."

[Seth Cohen] ((sorry about the wait on a short post, was ordering Chinese *g*))

[Imogen] Imogen's mouth twists faintly. The crowd behind had rumbled slightly at the suggestion of cheating, but now, with the easy capitulation, they've begun to lose interest. Some linger still, even in Hunter's presence, hoping for a little bit of drama, but his chances of new marks, at least from anyone who heard the exchange were slim.

The red-head reaches down and picks up her twenty dollars, now in a ten and two fives. "A pleasure doin' business with you," she says, stepping back.

[Hunter] And this is when Hunter steps forward with his hands stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie still. One snakes out and draws back that hood from his head revealing the rest of his bushy chocolate brown hair.

"Holds up Imogen." Hunter says, actually places a hand on her shoulder briefly before gesturing to the strider. "You knows?" His nostrils flare. "S'one'a you, little owlet'n'all."

A grin, white toothed and he presses his tongue to tip of one of his canines. "Pack yo shit up." Hunter says to him. "Lets go have'a sit down."

[Seth Cohen] When Imogen takes her money, he retrieves his own stake along with the loose cards. Normally he would be enraged at being caught. But there's always another way when you think on your feet, and that just happens to be Seths speciality. "Alright ladies and gentlemen, you've all been witness to a very valuable lesson tonight. Even a nice looking young man like myself could be trying to cheat you out of some cash. Consider this a public service announcement, alright? Thanks to everyone for coming out."

He says it so casually, it's almost as if he believes what he's saying. His attention is returned to the beautiful redhead, the remainder of the crowd ignored for the moment. Hunter has mentioned Owls, and he's clearly on friendly terms with Imogen. This could all work out very well. "Yeah, I'd like to have a polite conversation with the pair of you as well. There's a little spot down the street we can grab some food. Shall we?"

Without waiting for an answer, he abandons his card table. Rather than taking the easy way around, however, he actually pushes through the crowd. "Pardon me, pardon, coming through..."

Because picking pockets is much easier (and far more profitable) than running a blatant con.

[Imogen] Imogen casts Hunter a sharp glance, her gaze narrowing as it swings back to Seth. Her mouth presses shut on a particularly sharp answer before she merely shrugs and skirts around the crowd, regarding the hustler wryly as he exits it.

The kinswoman fits her hands into her coat pockets, glancing at both Garou and kinfolk before starting in the way that Seth had directed them, her boots clicking softly on the sidewalk.

[Hunter] Hunter gets the silent treatment and he shoves his hands back into his pockets, follows lazily after the two Kinfolk. It isn't quite as difficult for him to make his way through the crowd as it is for Seth. The crowd parts like a bubble and threatens to close up but doesn't do so until the Ahroun has passed on by.

He stays silent, lips pressed together after that sharp glance like he just got told off or something and isn't particularly happy about it.

[Seth Cohen] Once they are clear of the crowd, Seth slows his pace to walk in line with Imogen and Hunter. He gets right to the point. "Ok, you said 'Owl' back there. How the hell do you know about that?"

As they walk, the young Kin digs into the pocket of his old Army-issue coat and produces a brown leather wallet. He opens it and begins casually pulling bills out, counting the wad before tucking it away for safe-keeping. The wallet is then tossed into an open sewer drain, disappearing into the steam that billows from below. Within moments another wallet is produced and rifled through before being discarded into a trashcan.

[Hunter] He chews on his lip briefly but it isn't a sigh of nervousness, more like a sign of restlessness. He fidgets, his eyes find targets only briefly in most cases, but when Seth asks him that question they lock on his face, study it briefly before narrowing. The physical presence of Hunter Matthews is far beyond what it should be. He isn't the tallest of men, nor the widest. Sure he looks fit, cut, healthy--whatever you want to call it--but there's more to him than that.

It isn't natural.

His upper lip curls when he talks.

"S'what'cha are." He says, and it sounds casual. "Can sniff it out on'ya. Names Hunter Matthews." He doesn't offer a hand, he's busy watching the wallet disappear down a sewer drain.

"You do this much?"

[Seth Cohen] "No, sometimes I sleep and eat. I'm Seth Cohen." He also doesn't offer a hand. He's far too busy admiring the (hopefully real) gold watch he just retrieved from yet another coat pocket. "Look, since the cards are on the table...so to speak...I should just be up front with you both. I found out what I am a few years ago from a group I met on the rails. Apparently my dad was full-blown into the...society, or whatever. But that's got nothing to do with me. I'll tell you like I told them; I always knew I was different from most people, and it's cool to know why. But I'm not interested in your war, or whoevers war it is. I've got my own problems."

[Imogen] Imogen flicks a glance toward Seth. "Fair enough," she says, though this may not be the correct response from a kinfolk as based in Chicago as she.

"But yeh should knew tha' as long as yeh're here, you're at risk. And yeh'd be better to know what yeh can, if yeh plan to be here for any length of time, hadn't you just?"

[Hunter] Hunter flicks a glance to Imogen and back to Seth, raises an eyebrow and there is a comment there that he bites back. Something that doesn't happy very often on the full moon.

"She's right." A pause. "Lots'a little things that could help'ya out while ya' in town." A pause and he scratches at his cheek briefly. "And fuckin'-A you're at risk with that fuckin' blood in ya'. Shit it's almost as bad as you girl." He says to Imogen, deliberately leaving out her name.

[Seth Cohen] "Hell, I'm at risk every day. I train hop to get where I'm going, I steal and run games to feed myself, and I never wear a condom. I've seen guys get stabbed over the warmest spot in a boxcar and watched a slow-moving hopper get rundown by a freight engine. But I've never seen any fairy tale monsters other than ones I'm apparently related to. What's this city got that's so bad?" He talks tough, but the question is a legitimate one. If there's something worse here than what he's already witnessed in his life, he wants to be prepared for it.

[Hunter] Hunter whistles low in an exhale of breath, "Shit son, fuckin' no end'a god damn nightmares in this city." Once more his eyes find Imogen, not for approval of the topic at hand more for inspection of her reaction.

He sighs and shrugs a single shoulder.

"Basically, can't go into no fuckin' huge deets about whatch'a might find, we'd be here all god damn day. Safe ta' say though that normal peeps is the least'a'ya worries. You find ya' self a weapon and ya' learn how to use it. And if ya see somethin' like me comin' at ya then you god damn run the fuck away because I guarantee your gun won't be big enough."

A pause and he sniffs.

"Need fuckin' friends for that shit. S'no two ways about it."

[Imogen] Imogen is briefly quiet. Her footfall crunches on the poorly cleared sidewalk. "Monsters," she says, finally. "Not on yer side."

She flicks a glance at Hunter, her second - she'd looked at him briefly, opaquely when he'd referred to her own blood. "And if you have th'breedin' he refers to, they might mark yeh out."

Hunter begins to speak, and glances at Imogen for her reaction. There is none, though she meets his gaze flatly, before looking away, forward, silent.

[Seth Cohen] "Guess its a good thing I'm a hell of a runner. Never shot a gun in my life, Hunter. I pack a knife, that's about the extent of it." He chuckles quietly and casts a glance back towards the corner he was working earlier, now safely in the distance. "Thought I was going to have to pull it back there. Cold steel might not frighten your kind, but it certainly backs the rubes down."

His attention shifts back to Imogen. "You really do have a good eye, lady. You ever think about hustling the tourists? The three of us could run one hell of a game. Your looks, his muscle, my incredibly gray sense of morality...there's money to be made."

[Imogen] Imogen's mouth twitches. "I have money," she says.

[Hunter] Hunter snorts, somehow he doubts that Imogen would be be down for that. He is proven right a moment later "Nah thanks mate, I ain't too well off but I ain't into husslin' nobody. What makes you think you deserve their money more'n them?"

[Seth Cohen] Seth grins at the pair he walks with. "It's not about 'deserve'. It's not even about the money. It's about need and desire. We all have to eat, right? They work hard to get their money from their boss, I work hard to get that same money from them. It's the circle of life. I figure people who are into the natural order of things should be able to appreciate that. Besides, life's short...even shorter in this city from what the two of you are telling me. It's like the old saying, 'You can't take it with you'. I see these tourists and rich folks with all this disposable income, and they're not doing anything useful with it. So I take it and feed the hungry. It's just that in this case, 'the hungry' is me."

He lifts the watch up for Hunter to see. "Take this for example. If it's real, it probably cost around four, maybe five hundred bones. Five hundred dollars for a watch. All it does is tell time. The guy I took this off of probably has a cellphone that already tells him the time. He doesn't need this, it's just a status symbol. Meanwhile, there are people freezing and starving on the streets tonight. This asshole is wearing a months worth of food for those people on his fucking wrist. Fuck him."

[Imogen] Imogen flicks her gaze toward Hunter. "Doesn't really matter, does it?" the question is partially rhetorical. "S'not yer money."

[Hunter] Hunter smiles, nods his head a few times. "Yeah yeah yeah, fuck him and that fuckin' watch. Sure he don't need it, nobody needs it. How'd'you know though? You sayin' you ain't even take nobodies money who didn't need it?"

His eyes go to Imogen. Harsh, hot to her cold gaze.

"No it's fuckin' not, just my fuckin' opinion s'all. He asked, I was just fuckin' elaboratin' on my reasons for refusal."

[Seth Cohen] He shrugs in response. "No, it's very likely I have taken money that somebody needed for one reason or another. What I'm saying is that the world's a harsh place, and we're all just trying to survive. If I have to choose between me and anyone else on this planet, I'm choosing me every time. And I can find any number of ways to justify the actions that ensure my continued survival. I never claimed to be a saint. Hell, I don't even claim to be a good person. I'm just trying to get by like everyone else."

[Imogen] Hunter flares and Imogen merely raises a hand, perhaps stemming the fury, or simply in capitulation. She offers no words to augment the gesture, and little expression. It is open to interpretation.

[Hunter] Hunter pauses. Narrows eyes, it almost looks like he's confused about something and then he lets out a breath and visibly relaxes. Though not entirely.

"S'all good. Everyone tryn'a get by yea I understand that."

His eyes drift back towards Seth in the middle of the statement. "So how long ya' in town n'do ya' know anybody?"

[Seth Cohen] "I'm bedding down with my cousin for now. He's my mom's nephew, doesn't know shit about all..." He gestures vaguely at the Garou, the kinwoman, and himself. "...this. As for the length of my stay, I'm not sure. I'll hang around as long the place holds my interest. But eventually I'm going to get the itch. I always do. Then I'll just catch out and see where the rails take me. That's the appeal of Chicago, it's the biggest freight hub in the country. You can go almost anywhere from here."

[Hunter] "Theres a place.."

And this is where the talk starts. Yeah that one. The one everyone gets when they step into the city. About the place. With no privacy and way too many dramas.

"Called the brotherhood... I don't like it much, never lived there but I know they gots rooms for you'n'my kind a'like. If I was you I'd stay the fuck away from that crazy place.. then again if I was you... well." He smiles. "You might like it."

[Imogen] Imogen slows, her phone chiming in her handbag. It's an insistent sound,as she slings her purse off her shoulder, opening the clasp and retrieving the small smart phone.

She glances at the screen, then flicking a gaze between Hunter and Seth. "I need t'go. Enjoy th'restaurant," a flick of her gaze over the street, "wherever it is."

She pauses a moment, then reaches into her handbag, and retrieves a small card, offering it to Seth, despite the fact that Hunter had a much harder time with a similar conversation. "Yeh find yerself stuck, gi' me a ring. I don't mean yeh get mobbed fer scamming someone, mind, but yeh can get ahold of me on the mobile."

Dr. Imogen Slaughter, the card says, Cook County Medical Examiner's Office, Chicago, Illinois. Phone numbers are provided, including a cell number.

The phone chimes again, and she steps back, half turning away. "Excuse me." She starts off.

[Seth Cohen] He returns the smile, even though he's a bit unnerved by it. After all, it's being offered by an Ahroun, and it's a full moon. Even a friendly smile can seem a little scary under those circumstances. "I think I'll take your advice and stay away from the crazy place. Sounds like a magnet for exactly the kind of stuff I don't want to be involved with."

He takes Imogens card and looks it over, then flashes her his most charming grin. "Maybe I'll just call when I get lonely, Doctor Imogen Slaughter. This city gets cold at night and a warm body in be-..." But she's gone before he can finish the pick-up line. Oh well. He watches her go before turning back to Hunter.

"Think I've got a shot?"

[Hunter] Hunter glances at the card in disbelief. Follows it steadily from handbag to hand and if she looks at him after that she sees his confused and angry stare. She just gave a street criminal her details as easy as breathing.

He licks over his teeth, upper lip curling as she walks away.

"Later Imogen."

When she goes--and when Seth asks that question--he spits on the ground like he would after a fight, like there should be blood and flesh in that spit.

"No."

A pause and he looks like he might just walk off as well.

"C'mon lets go eat and you can tell me all about your personal fuckin' code of honour."

[Seth Cohen] Seth chuckles at the curt response from Hunter. "You sure know how to shoot down a guys hopes. But I like you, so I'll take you up on the meal. I'll even pay."

With that, he leads Hunter to a greasy spoon diner, the kind of place where you absolutely check your water glass for grime before taking a drink.

[Imogen] (thanks for the RP, guys!)