With Respect to MacBeth

[Joey Oliver] One of them waves. The other smiles and nods. If they didn't want a Rotagar planted at their table, these were not the things to have done to Joey. The girl's wave is one thing, the look from the man is another thing entirely. He recognizes her, not herself, not Joey Oliver, she doesn't know that guy and that guy doesn't know her. But there's a recognition, and, as if she hadn't already been planning on striding over to say hello, she definitely intends to do so now.

She orders her drink and steps to the side. Unlike her Alpha, she doesn't mind being out amongst the mortals. Her Rage is like a gentle yet angry push against them, giving her a tiny pocket of space, but she doesn't let it bother her. She's different from them, but she wasn't always.

When the drink is made and set out for her, she takes it up and heads to the table in the corner.

"'Sup," she greets, and up close they can see a few freckles that haven't been swallowed by the flush of her cheeks from the cold. They can see warm brown, slightly hang-dog eyes and, when she tugs at her scarf a little more, they can see the edge of scars. "Dude, it's colder'n a witch's cunt out there." Setting her cup down, she holds out a hand first to Derek, then to Joey. If accepted, they'll notice the arm warmers peeking out from beneath the cuff of her hoodie. Her grip is warm, firm and strong yet strangely gentle. Like she has to think about it, and be careful lest she accidentally snap the delicate bones of their hands. "Name's Joey, an' I fuckin' hope neither've you're Lost."

[Cordelia Sarafin-Diego] (brb, family needs!)

[Derek Anderson] He watched as Joey came closer. His smiled widdened slightly when she spoke ot them, kind blue eyes taking in the stranger with the colorful language. He took her hand on his big one, giving her a firm handshake. His skin was warm from being inside, hand not calloused nor soft. There was rougher skin inside his hand at the base of the fingers and his knuckled weren't soft either.

"Pleased to meet you Joey, I"m Derek"He said in a deep,warm voice. "And no I"m not lost Ma'am"

He did look at Cordelia with a brow raised thoguh. It seem she was kin as well, something he hadn't known about her..the world was small and there went another beautiful woman he probably would never date. Why were all the kin he met in this city looking like models and friendly to him? Then again, the truebloods he had met were beautiful and quite nice aswell. Might just be something about the city that attracted the friendly and beautiful

"And you're right, it's pretty cold outside. You get used to it though" He say with a smile and small shrugh

[Imogen Slaughter] Truly, no one pays attention to the goings out and in of the bathroom. The pair in an unfortunate booth by the door do not even bat an eye - their minds fill in the gaps and explain them away. They didn't see them. They forgot, they weren't paying attention.

That is if they even notice the two women exiting at all.

However, for those of the blood - it is a little stranger. After all, Imogen's pure breeding. Kora's rage. Two women (one woman, one monster) like this likely would not have walked through the cafe unnoticed.

Still - there they are, pushing out the door for the ladies' washroom. Imogen has her coat on, one hand lifting the cuff as she absently brushes a blemish on the sleeve beneath, pausing to study it, before concluding the leave it be.

(Who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?)

The slight redhaired woman - kinfolk, bred, glances at the taller blonde. An eyebrow lifts. "Might as well ha' something warm while we're here."

[Kora] There are subtle things off. Water spattered on Kora's black boots, a darker place visible on the thigh of her dark jeans, just beneath the hem of the winter coat, flecked with pieces of brown paper towel from the good solid scrubbing it received. Her winter coat is half-buttoned, revealing a handful of layers beneath - a half-zipped hoodie over a gray t-shirt beneath that wool coat, a hand-knitted sweater patterned in the Fair Isle tradition trailing behind.

Still drying her hands - the scent of the pink soap is strong on her skin - the tall blond stops long enough to give the slight redhead a look mildly ironic, mildly incredulous. "That's efficient, doc."

Still, she doesn't object. Glances up at the menu board, frowning at the insane array of drinks. Then looks back, lifting her chin toward a certain corner of the room. "You know Joey, right?" Back to the menu, the frown buckling her brow. "What are you having?" A pause. " - wait, let me guess. Earl Gray, yeah?"

[Joey Oliver] "Ma'am," says Joey, lets out a huff of laughter. It's not so charming to the ears as Cordelia's, it is not the tinkling of bells or any such beautiful nonsense as that, but nor is it a donkey's bray. Say what you will of Joey, that she's crude and vulgar and brash, at least she doesn't laugh like an ass. She looks at Cordelia. "Listen to this guy, such manners." She smiles, though, and the smile is genuine, full of perfect pearly whites.

"And I've been tryin' for ages, man, you don't even know."

She might explain to him so that he does know, but the door to the bathroom opens, and out come two familiar figures, one seen more recently than the other. If they pass by close enough, Joey greets them both by name and just their names. Imogen, Kora. If not, she smiles in their direction.

"What were you guys talkin' about?"

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen is tidier than Kora, but her coat is closed despite the warmth of the coffee shop. Her hair is damp toward the temples, and more carefully arranged than usual, as if she had only just pulled it back with damp hands, and clipped it in place.

Most of these are pointless details. The brain ignores many incongruities. Kora remarks that Imogen's technique is efficient. The doctor's mouth twists and curls, "It's downright British," she replies. There had been tension before, not between them, but within the kinswoman, in the wake of it all. It is faded now that she is public. The facade firmly in place.

A flick of a glance toward the table Kora indicates. "We've met," she says, mildly. "She was handin' out rings fer the protection o' -" a pause as someone passes them, "half-bloods, at one point."

Earl Grey?

"What else," this with dryness.

[Derek Anderson] He noticed the redhead and the blond when Joy looked at them, they were hard to miss, especially the redhead. He watched them for a moment before settling his eyes on Joy again "Just how I wasraised"He offer her a friendly smile. We were jsut talking about nothing and everything really. Nothing earth changing."He shrugh

"Would you liek to join us?"He offer her, looking at an empty seat near them "Or you prefer joining your friends over there?" He say glanicng in the direction of Imogen and Kora

[Cordelia Sarafin-Diego] "You're going to have to tell me this story about the man locking himself in the basement... then again, there's no cell phone reception there, so I can see where it would be hard to... wow," she shakes her head and has to laugh at it.

Joey comes by, Joey swings by and Cordelia smiles, grins, and seems ever-too-pleasd to meet another person. John does get another look, and she seems confused and surprised for a second and her attention goes back to the group, "not lost... and he was telling me about a missing person who ended up just being locked in the basement."

[John] It's Bathroom Party Night here at the Something Something Cafe.

Perhaps a minute after a tall blond Skald emerges from the women's bathroom with a heavily pureblooded kinswoman brushing at a spot on her sleeve... a heavily pureblooded kinswoman emerges from the same door with a tall brunet Modi wiping at his scruff-covered cheeks with the back of a hand.

Suffice to say, for the Fenrir in the room who are well aware of this particular male's particular peculiarity, his silence is not a surprise. Once they've returned themselves to rights, he tugs the hem of his thermal to free it from where it was unfairly caught in the waistband of his jeans and looks around.

Oh, hey, Joey.
He lifts his chin in a nod that, brightly, says Sup!

[Kora] There's a glance of acknowledgment for Joey; it's distant, a bit restrained. A touch of eye contact across the coffee shop, mostly lost for those surrounding. The conversation between the two women is low; tension has left Imogen's frame, she's used to this faÁade. It lingers in subtle ways in Kora's. Rage opens up other currents; spikes the blood with stress hormones, changes the subtle washing of neurotransmitters in the brain. So she's brighter than she should be - that spark in her eyes - and sharper, but controlled.

A wash of half laughter in the wake of Imogen's comment, then a flicker of a glance from Imogen to Joey, and back again. "When was that?" The rings for half-bloods. Kora's voice is low; she glances up as John emerges from the bathroom, lifts a glance toward the menu as they edge toward the counter, offering him a drink.

Something about the way she moves, the way, rather, the half-buttoned coat moves, the tension in the line of the hoodie underneath - is awkward. She's pregnant, late in the second, or early in the third trimester.

[Joey Oliver] "Hahawhat?" she asks, laughing, attention moving from one kinfolk to the other, incredulous and amused. "No windows to crawl through, or was he too fat to fit?"

More people, not just people, but people enter into the coffee shop, and not through the front door. Or maybe they did enter there originally, and somehow all wound up having a party in the women's restroom. Joey doesn't know, and she's not entirely sure she's sad she missed it. Here comes her brother with one a purebred kinswoman that Joey remembers very well, though the two women have rarely spoken.

She looks from John to Izzy and back again, with a smug smile on her face that clearly announces Yeah boy!

"Aw, I'm not stayin' long, just 'til I can feel my fingers 'n' toes again, y'know?" As if to emphasize the statement, she looks down at those beat to hell boots of hers, picks one foot off the ground and sets it back down again.

[Izzy Montoya] It's not the first time she's exited a bathroom with a Fenrir. Or a ShadowLord. Or a.. well. Those that know her wouldn't think anything of this - or think too much of it - when she exists behind a Fenrir. If they dared ask questions, she would lie. Or not. And they'd still not know for sure why she is exiting this particular bathroom, with this particular man. Despite the belief of some, she's always been discreet, and keeps her secrets to herself.

Even if it involves her walking out of a bathroom no one seemed to remember her walking into.

She has her hands in her pockets, and dark eyes sweep the room, noting those she knows, especially when they are with those she doesn't. Then she tips her head toward the counter in unknowing mimic of Kora, and asks John "Hungry?"

[Imogen Slaughter] "Somewhere 'round th'time a state o' war was declared," the kinswoman's voice is low and even. John or Izzy, if they come closer can hear her.

"After one o' yers was kidnapped."

The line begins to dissipate, several who were planning on staying choosing to instead take their drinks to go.

[Derek Anderson] He smiled at Joey "Just very old and a little mixed up"He said about the man who had locked himself in his basement and was declared missing. He did nod at Joey when she said she wouldn't stay for long "As you wish. There'saseat here if you ever cahnge your mind"

He did noticea woman coming out of the bathroom with a man and he fronwed. That was rather inappropriate. But no one seemed to have noticed too much or complained. So he guess it was fine, beside, he wasn't worknig right now.

He finished his cappuccino and took a bite of what's left of the brownies, looking at Cordelia "Want a refill?"He ask motioning to her drink

[Cordelia Sarafin-Diego] "Yes please and thank you?" and she even throws a biiigi smile on top of that. Cordelia pushes up her glasses.

She then looks at Joey, and her expression is somewhere between grave and comical. She shakes her head vigorously, to the point that her glasses slip a little and her curls go flying.

"Es freezing," and another moment, and she lights up, "those look so comfortable, where did you get them?"

[John] When he catches his packmate's smile from across the room, the Modi's blue eyes go wide with shock and the expression on his face transmits a humorously appalled What?! No! For some strange reason there appears to be a direct correlation with the amount of time John spends out on the streets, the phase of the moon and his Rage: a significant portion of humans can tolerate his presence, but for a select few, he is like being in a room with a serial killer. Maybe it's his eyes, or the fact that he doesn't talk, or a vague, niggling aura of otherness around him.

Humans have an uncanny sense for weirdness in their environment. They rarely pay any mind to it.

The Jarl offers him a drink, and he nods, visibly grateful; when Izzy asks him if he's hungry, a nod would have sufficed, but his stomach issues not a manly roar of agreement but a muted grumble of emptiness, as though the mere thought of food has it perking to life. His nod this time is no less grateful, but his stomach has already answered for him; John cuts Izzy what might have been a smile if the muscles in his face had any indication of how to perform such an action in public, then briefly turns his attention back to what Kora and Imogen are discussing, heavy brow furrowed.

[Kora] "Do you still have it?" Kora asks, still low-voiced. "The ring?"

There's a brief nod of acknowledgment of the timing. When the state o' war was declared. "Matthew Oliver," Kora supplies.

The gods only know where he is. Dead is the best that can be hoped for. Worse is likely, and for a moment a brief cast crosses Kora's features, sour. A subtle twist moves across her mouth, and that lingers, but, no more than that. Then, they're at the counter. Kora orders Imogen's Earl Gray, and a chai for herself. Says: yes to whipped cream, and yes to whole milk, and requests one of those things pointing at a Asiago-Cheese-Pretzel that will not, under any circumstances, to any one with a normal palette go with chai.

"Sweet or not?" To John, mid-order, and then adds on another drink to the order. Black Coffee if he did not want something sweet. Hot chocolate if he did.

[Izzy Montoya] His stomach growls in reply, and her lips threaten to curve into a smile - though the closest they get to is an amused smirk. She listens to Imogen and Kora, and their topic of discussion, and waits a beat, or two.

Kora orders, and Izzy takes the moment to address Imogen. "I've a favor to ask, if your willing."

Then, on the heels of Kora's order, she's pulling out her wallet from her inside coat pocket, and adds a couple sandwiches to the order for her and John. Her's is a job where she has to eat when she can. Right now, she can. To Kora. "It's on me, tonight."

[Derek Anderson] He nodded and got up "All right" He look at Joey "Would you like something?"He ask her then, after he got his answer, he headed toward the counter and the Fenrir waiting fo their own drinks. If their rage bothers him, it doesn't show on his good looking face.

He stand tall behind them, about 6'3"/6'4", muscular in jeans, boots and long sleeve shirt. His kind blue eyes lookedat them all, trying not to stay too long on any of them, even if it might be hard. So instead of staring at anyone's back, he look up, or down, or around, not in any hurry.

[Imogen Slaughter] First a shake of her head, "Gave it back," she answers. Just then, John's stomach growls and Imogen turns to glance at him over her shoulder, her gaze flicking briefly to Izzy, whom she had heard speak.

"Best feed him," she advises.

Her phone chimes, once in her pocket, and Imogen's hand reaches inside, pulling it free without looking at it. Izzy says she has a favour to ask, and Imogen is already stepping back. "Gi' me a call about it tomorrow," she says, a glance touching on Kora to include her in what she says next. "I ha' to go. Pass on the tea, shall I?"

With that, she is stepping away and turning to leave. She will nod in Joey's direction as she goes, should the Rotagar catch her eye.

(sorry folks, gotta get to bed!)

[Joey Oliver] "Thanks," she says, in response to the offer of a seat. It sounds like he's offering her the seat near him for all time, always and forever. Only time will tell if the Rotagar will take him up on it again at any point in the future.

For now she is content to stand at the table, rudely making the kinfolk look up at her as she shifts her weight from side to side, restless. Derek rises, verifying what Joey already suspected. That he's another of Chicago's clan of goddamn giants. There was a time when being 5'8" made Joey tall. Not here, not in this place, at least not often. Tipping her head up, he can see a bit more of the scarring at her throat, but not enough to tell the severity of it.

"Nah, thanks, still got this," she says, lifting her drink again for a sip. When he's gone, her attention is focused on the kinswoman. "Uh, I dunno, my mom sent 'em to me, long time ago. They're warm, though."

Holding out the arm with the drink, she tugs up the sleeve of her hoodie, revealing to Cordelia a black arm warmer in a purple and grey argyle pattern. It doesn't match the scarf. Joey doesn't appear to care. "I can ask her next time I talk to 'er if y'want."

[Cordelia Sarafin-Diego] It is at that moment, where she's revealing the argyle and grey arm warmer, that Cordelia instantly and irrevocably, fell in love with Joey Oliver. It wasn't her eyes, though they were pretty, and it wasn't her blonde hair or her different demeanor, it was her arm warmers. The princess melts, and she grins ear to ear.

"Oh! I'm Cordelia" Cor-deh-lia, "es nice to meet you Joey."

Joey. Pronounced more like Cho-ey. The J sound isn't kind to her, not at all.

"My mother refuses to visit because it's cold-" and being in Spain doesn't hurt "-please tell me it gets better."

[John] Sweet or not?

John holds up one large hand in a thumb's down, eyes flicking between Kora and the minimum wage slave behind the counter. It takes a special breed of human to work in retail beyond the holiday season; whoever is back there doesn't quaver from him, exactly, but it's abundantly obvious to anyone with eyes that the tall young man--not quite so tall as the other muscular blue-eyed presence in the place, but to Joey that is likely minor consolation--is neither uncomfortable in humans' presence nor entirely certain how to behave. He simply exists, like a bird that has somehow flown into a store through the pneumatic door and isn't in a major rush to escape.

Imogen mentions feeding him, and he scoffs, lightly, yet lacks the capacity to quip back that he isn't a canine or a houseplant. Given the way he dresses, the general Mountain Man look he either seems to be going for or doesn't know how to deviate from, it's entirely possible he's still trying to figure out how to procure food in this city without the green paper humans shuffle around constantly. He's doing a lot of scrounging and pride-swallowing, lately.

When the slight kinswoman makes her escape, John waves, the motion restrained, and looks around the room again. Carefully, he taps Izzy on the upper arm, as though this is somehow preferable to her shoulder; once her attention has been captured, he gestures across the room to the Silver Fangs and makes a questioning face. He wants to know if she knows them, as if all the Kinfolk in the city know all the other Kinfolk in the city.

[Kora] "You shall," says Kora, a side glance at Imogen as she demures on the hot tea, then a lifting movement back toward John as she considers whether or not she can pawn off a pot of Earl Gray in the Modi. And decides against it, shifting forward at the counter, still looking over her shoulder. "Be safe, Doc, yeah?"

"Nix the Earl Gray. Just the chai and a black coffee -" a gesture toward the kinswoman and modi behind her. "She's paying." And then Kora reaches to pick up the pretzel, steps aside to await her drink, making room for Izzy and John to order whatever else they'd like. She watches Derek as the tall man walks through the room, a level look, dark eyed and direct, unwavering - from this strange woman in sturdy, inexpensive clothing, pale haired and pale skinned, six months pregnant, blood spatter from a kill artfully daubed from her jeans, otherwise hidden underneath her coat, picking at a pretzel as if she had not just -

Well, and when Izzy glance her way, Kora lifts her pretzel in a vague toast, acknowledgment of her offer to pay, and thanks, all in one.

[Imogen Slaughter] (thanks for the RP all!)

[Derek Anderson] He looked at Kora as he stopped nearby, offering her a smile and a nod "Ma'am"He wait until they all got their order before getting a refill for Cordelia and one for himself. His eyes followed Imogen as she left then as he looked forward, he notice John looking at him. He wasn't sure who was trueblood or kin in that group, the rage spilling all over, so he simply nodded to the other man with a polite smile.

[Izzy Montoya] Call her tomorrow. Izzy nods. "Will do. G'night."

Kora lifts her pretzel in thanks, and Izzy simply nods. There are few Fenrir that she has grown to respect. Kora is one of them, and by virtue of that, the rest of her pack. She shows it in small ways. Picking up a tab. Showing up at the church more in the past month then she has to any in years. Actually reporting in, despite the pregnant Jarl's desire for Imogen and John to procreate.

Neither here nor there. She pays the tab, tucks the wallet into her coat, and steps aside to wait with kora for their order to be made.

John touches her arm, a strangely intimate gesture to see for those who know Izzy, as she is not prone to physical contact at all outside of closed doors, unless it is necessary. She doesn't seem to mind it here - mainly because it is necessary, because she expects it. Wordless question crosses his face, and she answers with a shake of her head.

"No. Should I?" Even though the answer is obvious, purely for his asking.