John Barrister

[missed first post: John is walking Bruin in the park.]

[Skadi] "Hey!" Kids before him; kids, too, behind John Barrister. Bruin reacts before she speaks, of course. The hound senses the disturbane in the air, the animal beneath the skin; something crawls across his domesticated senses. He goes alert; instead of pulling forward, tugging toward the latest marker in the endless game of "mine!" "no, mine!" played by the dogs regularly walked through Grant Park, he stops and turns, hackles prickling up, alert and wary, but not yet aggressive.

[princessa] Yes, she was loud when she needed to be. Effortlessly, unselfconsciously vocal. The need is gone, and she reverts to quieter habits. Her voice is still clear, though; still carries where she wants it to carry, especially when it carries a question straight to the point - "Where are your clothes? Here." The scarf is unwound, and when Kendra's close enough, tossed over her in an easy loop. The bonegnawer adjusts her direction and comes around a gush of white froth; catches Princess's eye, a moment before she speaks. "Hey, Danny." An easy smile, brief, which is at odds with the furrow between her eyebrows just now. "Are they still hot?"

[John Barrister] Hm. Familiar voice. Dog alert and anxious. John stops, looking first down to Bruin and then, already knowing who he'll find, back over his shoulder. A brown suede jacket tonight; a fleeced collar. Rustic. He reins Bruin in a little tighter. "Hey," he replies.

[Danny Jones] She grins. Thaney asked her the same question about some cookies, the other night. Only it was a more upfront "how fresh?" With Danny, it's always wise to ask, after all.

"Well, not hot - but warm. Mustard and extra onions. Gotta extra soda too."

And a peer around at Kendra. "and a shirt. n pants." Likes or dislikes aside - she's Gnawer. Someone's gots needs, she's gots stuff. It's the way things go.

[Skadi] "Went by yer house, lookin' fer ya. Left ya a four pack'a Guiness, them ones in tha big cans with tha little thangs in tha bottom." He knows who he'll finds when he glances back; all his senses are correct. The blonde, without the tall kid. She's wearing jeans with which he will become familiar if she keeps visiting him, and a white ribbed wifebeater beneath a suede jacket built like a western-style blazer. Her hands are in her front pockets, up to the second knuckle at least, in a way that emphasizes her lazy, lean gait. "Drank one, though, 'fore I give up on ya."

Skadi doesn't fall into step yet. She frowns at Bruin, then back at John. "He gon' be too much fer ya with me 'round?"

[John Barrister] He laughs, a brief grunt of amusement deep in his chest. "The good kind," he says, pleased. "Thanks. And sorry. I should've left you my number. Do you want it?"

A glance at the dog, then ahead and behind in the empty park, considering. Reaching down, he unsnaps the leash and looses Bruin, giving the rangy hound a pat on the side to send him sniffing along into the greenery. "With a little luck," he says to Skadi, wry, "he won't bite anyone."

[James Wagner] ( Loc's? )

[Joseph Morgan] (On a path, heading towards the fountain)

[John Barrister] (with skadi, on a different path! potentially heading for the fountain as well.)

[Danny Jones] (sitting on thee dge of the fountain, near Thaney, who's near Kendra, with joseph approaching)

[Skadi] "Mean dog, is he?" She watches Bruin test his limits, then disappear into the rustling leaves; when the domesticated animal has disappeared, she ambles forward and falls into step beside Barrister, frowning into the rustling leaves as she tracks the animal's progress through the bushes. Turning her head, she squints briefly up at him, shielding her eyes with her left palm, considering. "Hell'd ya do with him when yer mate was home?" Then, a shrug, "Ain't got no reason ta apologize. I neededja right then, coulda asked that Rotagar."

[Kendra Peterman] Kendra stepped up to meet Thaney, still wearing that smile that was part-cheese, part-apology when she reached her. The blanket was fairly warm, but it really wasn't enough for this sort of weather, so her shoulders trembled when a particularly strong shiver raced its way up her spine. "S'a long story, Thaney-girl," she offered, and bowed her head a little when the red-haired Philodox removed her scarf and tossed it around her instead. A change was made to her smile, so it would read 'thank you', and she shifted her grasp on the blanket so she held it closed in front of her chest, but it fell open from her waist down, and lifted about her like a cape when she moved her freed hand to circle the scarf around her neck.

She wasn't naked under the blanket, not by far, but she wasn't dressed particularly warm either. She wore what looked like a cream-colored skirt, a heavy cotton fabric, just a few inches above her knees in length, with the hem of a loose gray T-shirt hanging about her hips. She looked as though she'd closed her eyes, stuck her hand in a 'random clearance' bin at the Good Will, and put on whatever she'd brought out in that one game of fishing-for-clothes. Her legs were messy, smeared vaugely with a dried coppery substance that appeared as though the most of it had been wiped with a wet towel but not all was cleaned. The same applied to her face, and her hair was just a downright mess, greasy and dirty with god-knows-what, pulled back into a bun to keep it out of sight and out of mind.

Dark green eyes shifted toward Danny when the Gnawer arrived, and she nodded her head in response. The blanket dropped, no longer acting a cape, and was properly secured about her once more, tightly wrapped in the front. "Nah thanks." She declinded the offer of shirt and pants, shaking her head. "I need t'get home anyway."

[John Barrister] She can see the moment her rage breaks across him. Everyone reacts differently to it; everyone reacts. For Barrister, it's an unconscious straightening of his posture, a certain tenseness about the mouth that goes away with deliberate will. His smile turns a little rueful: "Well, she was hardly ever home. You know how it is. Anyway, he's a backyard dog, not a bed-sleeper." Barrister starts walking again when Skadi's abreast him, his pace even and steady and easy. They can hear Bruin now and then, crashing through the undergrowth. "We got him together, actually. He was the only pup that didn't squirm to get away from her. He growled at her instead. She liked that."

Barrister's easy with the life details. He doesn't go on and on with the anecdotes, but Skadi doesn't have to ask, either. He tells it as they occur to him.

[James Wagner] Strange to think that everyone was heading for the same destination by different routes. Some were already present, and others were on their way. It seemed like things were no different for the Irish. He strode down an alternate pathway, not with a dog or friends. He was within his own mind, and when one couldn't make it out of the city into the wilds to think? The park was the next best thing. Here there was still the backdrop of the cityscape, the noise and overall din of life.

James' head was lowered a touch, lips pursed as he occasionally clenched his left hand in a fist, only to unclench it. The wrapped bandage worn around it seemed to be a bit tight every now and then, and he wasn't used to wearing such things. A loose fitting black West Coast Choppers hoodie adorned his form, and a pair of dark blue low-rise jeans were worn from his hips. Boots clomped down the path, heading unknowingly for the congretational spot.

[Joseph Morgan] No one but Kendra, probably, is going to be surprised that he doesn't start roaring at her when he's still ten feet away. Joseph crosses the distance between his spot on the path and the girls at the fountain at his regular long-legged pace. He's not dressed for charming anyone or looking his best; his jeans are worn-in and his t-shirt is about as colorful and interesting as the one Kendra has on - but his fits him. As a nod to the weather, he's got on his leather jacket (guess what color - no, g'on, guess).

Then he's there, and not grabbing Kendra by the shoulders to whip her around, shake her like a bad rag doll, or smack her across the face. No where have you been or is that blood on your legs or hysterical screaming, despite the bloodshot tinge to his eyes. That would all take a great deal of energy he doesn't have, and he'd probably forget what he was doing somewhere in there.

"Yes," he says flatly, hearing the tail end of what Kendra says to the other two ladies. Monsters. Whatever. Ladymonsters. Like ladyfingers, only they would never fit in a tiramisu. What?

[Skadi] "Who named 'im?" The question is short and simple. She asks it just as she falls into easy cadence with him; a familiar gait. Up close, he can smell the onions on her breath, and the woodsmoke in her hair. There's mud on her shoes - on her boots, cowboy, but not the pink ones, some other pair suitable for a rainy spring day. "You 'r her?"

[John Barrister] "She did," he replies immediately, then amends, "more or less. I wanted to call him Bear. When he was a puppy, he was kind of chubby, with a lot of folds around his face and shoulders. He shuffled around. Like a bear, you know." Barrister mimes it for a second or two: elbows turned out, a bulldoggy stance, a deliberate hand by hand shuffle. Then he gives it up with an embarrassed sort of gruffness, "Em thought Bruin was more creative."

[Danny Jones] She shrugs off Kendra's refusal, and works on finishing up her second dog. Doesn't take much. In fact, she practically inhales the thing. Ain't had nothing to eat since... well, 3 hours ago, at LEAST. Everyone knows that's forever in Danny-time. No one ever has figured out where she puts it all, nope.

And well, if princess wants one, she'd best speak up, because danny starts on number 3 of 4.

[princessa] "Thanks," she says first, to Danny. Food isn't something she turns down when she can be sure it's something she can stomach; there was acceptance, in the thanks. But then her eyes close for an instant. When she opens them, the acceptance is gone, with regret, "But - no thanks tonight. Just enjoy one for me, okay?"

There are many kinds of smiles. There are almost as many kinds of smiles as there are Inuit words for snow. Kendra's smile is an eloquent one, slides through a gamut of messages. Princess doesn't smile. Not now, anyway. Joe speaks, and she starts. Like someone flicked the channel away from her and then back really quickly. Gives him a neutral glance, after, "A story?"

Beat. Uh oh. Princess, and - the hint of a story? We know what this means. "I'll find you for it, later," she says, quiet and even. "Where ever you cleaned up," and she doesn't really trail away. Just stops that thought, then says, "You need some soap and water."

[Danny Jones] That gets a grin from Danny. "Deal." Enjoy food? On her top list of favorite things to do.

[James Wagner] Step up to me
Step up to me
Punk
Step up to me
You wanna be a big time player?
It's not to be

The lyrics ran through the Galliard's head. Likely from his facial expression, his mind is on Boston and just what exactly he may intend to do there. That is, if he could find the right place within the city. James' path ends in the clearing or whathaveyou where the fountain is, as he sets foot onto grass or sidewalk. He was still maybe twenty or twenty-five feet from them all, but he doesn't appear to notice anyone just yet.

His gaze flicked down to his hand again, which he raised to inspect the bandage. It stopped bleeding hours ago, but better safe than sorry. "Bloody fookin' women," he said, and not softly.

[Skadi] "M'old pack was under Bear." The word has a different ring when she says it in that context; it's fuller, somehow. That's it: more full, richer. She says it like a Catholic says the name of a favored saint from childhood, wistful reverence buried deep beneath the drawl. "Blade'a tha Norns." As if saying their name means that they might never die; isn't that it - the point of the Skald, the collection of stories, the names they earn: all in ongoing defiance of death's finality of the earth's finite span of years.

"Y'ever thank on takin' another one?" The subject change is abrupt but not mystifying. Her voice changes, subtly; grows serious without the sepia tone attached to all things past. Instead of watching the path, she watches the old kinsman's face, blonde brows draw together, messy ponytail dancing golden behind her skull. "I know yer still wearin' yer weddin' rang. But ya ever thank on it?"

[Kendra Peterman] Kendra almost flinched to hear Joe's voice, mono-syllabic as it was, come from over her shoulder. Her head lifted, and a fairly crusty bit of hair that hadn't quite made it into her bun swayed about by her forehead as she turned to look at him. The smile was flattened off her lips when they pressed together in an expression that was almost a frown but not quite upset enough to be considered one.

Thaney mentioned soap and water, and Kendra nodded her head once, worried her fingers over the soft fuzzy fleece of her blanket, and muttered quietly. "You find me a workin' shower out in th'shipyard 'n I'll provide it wi'h soap." Her eyes flickered again toward Danny, briefly, to observe her inhale a hotdog, and her mouth twitched -- almost a smile that time -- then she turned, adjusting her position so she could look at Joe, address him without having to peer over her shoulder at him.

For a good dozen seconds or so, she just surveyed him. Read the dark circles that were taking up residency under his eyes and how red they were. A lack of sleep, obviously, and she could only guess why. Eventually, she spoke in a low tone, not too dissimilar from a teenager that had just been scolded. "S'pose we're goin' home now."

[John Barrister] Something about Barrister closes up there. Skadi can almost smell his wariness, like a hound scents the fox. She mentions his ring and in involuntary response his left hand closes up; his thumb rubs the worn gold band. Theirs hadn't been much of a marriage, but he'd worn that damn thing faithfully for eight years and counting.

"Not really. No." His honesty is blunt in the end, much as he is. That's what Barrister is in the end, despite everything: a blunt instrument, a straightforward man. "I -- " whatever else he'd thought to say, he cuts off, " -- no."

[Joseph Morgan] Anger wasn't usually Joseph's first (second, third) recourse. Flares of his temper were, actually, few and far between. That didn't mean he wasn't opinionated, or shy about quite flatly voicing that opinion. Anger, though, was far from his expression and his voice. He was tired, and made no effort to hide it, nor did he make some kind of effort to use it to make Kendra feel guilty or ashamed or what-have-you.

His eyes glance over Kendra while she mentions something about a shipyard to Thaney and...wait...he'll think of her name any second now...

Joseph can't spare much of his brainpower to focus right now on more than one thing at a time. Right now, for good or ill, that one thing is Kendra. Her hair's greasy, matted, crusty with something that would color it if her hair weren't so dark already. Stuff on her legs. He sniffs. Joseph's not lupine, but one doesn't always have to be to recognize that smell. His mouth tenses at the corners.

She's standing, and not wincing. She's not crying. Whatever happened, she's intact. His shoulders relax slightly, the signal telling that they'd been a bit straighter than normal a second before. But then Joseph glances down again, and blinks. "You're wearing a skirt."

[Skadi] "Y'ever thank on it - " in the face of Barrister's wariness, the modi is briefly, doubly earnest. " - I mean, I know ya gotta take yer time an' figger out where ya wanna be. I ain't sayin' ya fergit yer dead an' move on, but it'd be nice ta have a passel a kids, runnin' 'round. Man like you deserves a few, keep tha lines strong. All'a that. So if y'ever thank on it, I got a girl in mind. Real pretty, real good breedin' - she'd give ya some fine sons'n daughters - an' pretty. I figger on her bein' a good cook, though I ain't never et none'a her cookin'. S'kin. An' she ain't got no father'r family ta find 'er no one, an' seems ready ta settle, like, I figger on spring brangs all'a that out in folks, an' she's ready fer a family. Keeps 'er apartment real neat, too.

"Keep a good home fer ya. Y'ever - I mean, y'ever decide that y'ain't holdin' on no more, I kin innerduce ya. I mean, that apartment is real neat, as a pin. 'n that breedin', she'd probably give ya a trueborn."

...it all sounded perfect in her head.

[princessa] Danny inhales hotdogs; Princess wrinkles her nose, cat-fastidious. Kendra turns to regard Joe fully; Princess gives a single shake of her head, a negation of the coppery stains on the other fianna's skin, perhaps. She tugs on her over-sized hat, and she takes James in, too, now that he's spilled out of a path, cuts across the fountain's square, distracted. Always distracted, these other Fianna. And, apparently, these irascible Black Fury kin. She glances once, eloquent, at Danny, then says, "You two gonna be alright walkin' home by yourselves?"

It's not that she doesn't want to talk to Kendra. She likes Kendra. But she doesn't want her out and about, all greasy and covered in blood, and if Joe's going to take her back to a shower and shampoo - well then.

[John Barrister] Whatever else Barrister is, he's not a terribly good liar. His reactions are pretty much writ on his face, and they run like this: wariness, suspicion, a certain knowing incredulity -- that's how she's going to pitch herself? as 'a girl' who cooks and cleans? -- and then a flash of genuine surprise; a kin. Barrister laughs, relieved, a stormburst of humor.

"I thought you meant -- " and he laughs again, shaking his head. "Sorry. Misunderstanding." And smiling now, "How old is your friend?"

[Danny Jones] She grins up at Princess. Poor Thaney, she's never quite sure how to take Danny's excess. And Poor Danny. Never quite sure how to take Thaney's control. Yin/yang, black/white. It's a friendship that works. Mostly. Even when Thaney's disappointed, as she currently is. And will likely remain. S'all good.

She dusts off her hands after dog numbah three, and drinks a good half her soda, letting out an OH so feminine beeeeeeeeeeeelllllllllllllch afterwards.

Then. Dog numbah four. Last, and certainly not least.

[Skadi] I thought you meant - Skadi's eyes grow briefly huge; she stiffens, alert and wary, watching Barrister's face, then glancing off, following the track of his hands. Her rage twinges in line with her brief embarassment, and Skadi shakes her head briefly, forcefully, inserting, a naw, that ain't - between his meant and his sorry. Her hands, flat in her pockets, sink from the second joint to the knuckles, the thumbs splayed out against the line of her hips.

"Dunno," a subtle tension rides through her spine, but she is working it out, visibly - through the shoulders, in the chin. "she ain't too old, but I ain't never asked her."

[James Wagner] Voices. James' head lifts up, to see the gathering. Joseph, Danny, Kendra, and Thaney. The first of the four he hadn't met, or at least the Galliard didn't think he had. The man's face rang as unfamiliar to James as he neared. Brushing loose strands of hair from his face, James grunted a little.

Danny was still stuffing her face like ever, and Kendra looked like she just got done having a barroom brawl. Thaney was judging and weighing everyone like usual. And James? Still neared.

Now that his mind had driven back dark thoughts, he was able to crack a smile as his attention went first to Danny. "One o' these days, girle, ye're goin' tae make yerself fat wit' th'way ye eat ev'r'thin' in sight." And then she belched. "An' suren ye've been tae charm school."

Within about ten feet now, James had been walking as he spoke. Then his eyes went to Kendra. "Did ye win?"

[Kendra Peterman] Again, the blanket is pushed over her shoulder to pretend to be a cape, long, soft, red and purple. Her right hand lifted, raising out from under the fleece warmth, and rubbed at her face, a good long rub. Fingers started at the crest of her forehead, fell down, scrubbed at both eyes, circled over her cheekbones, and met once more in a clench over her mouth and chin. Then, she sighed, the sound big and heavy.

"Yeah, 'm in a skirt," she spoke in a voice that would usually be reserved for a very innocent three-year-old that just pointed out that your shirt was stained from a coffee spill that morning, and they were the fifth person to do so. Exhasperated, but still patient. Soon enough her hand fell from her mouth and chin, dropped back under the blanket, and she curled the fabric snugly about her again. Eyes shifted about the group, found James, and lingered there for a second. She might have thought about saying something of greeting, but all thoughts were interrupted by the belch that rattled her brain inside her skull. Her eyes shut, then she shook her head. She never claimed to be a lady, feminine, or even girly, but she didn't think that a belch like that had ever been let out of her own mouth before.

Another shiver here, another sigh there, and she focused her gaze once more to find James had approached them and joined their group. She heard his accent fill the air at about the same time she'd opened her eyes again. She was exhausted. It didn't show so much in her eyes as it did for Joe, but she'd been through more than her fair share of shit in the past twenty four hours, and hadn't gotten any sleep, any rest, or any comfort through the lot of it, so it was fair to say she was beat. For a moment her dark green eyes fell upon the more experienced Galliard's darker ones, locked and inspected, then she huffed quietly and lifted her chin, displaying a proud stance despite her current state of disarray.

"Fuckin' right I did."

[John Barrister] "Well," John tucks his big hands into the pockets of his suede coat, easy-mannered again, "in my experience," he shoots her a glance from under eyebrows just this side of bushy, " -- and I've had plenty in my day, so don't start worrying about me being deprived -- in my experience, kinwomen before the age of 30 tend to prefer a trueborn. Sort of like the preference for handsome bad boys, you know." Skadi gets the faint impression that he's gently teasing, but his face is straight as an arrow. "It's only when they get older than fiscal responsibility and emotional stability start coming into the picture."

[John Barrister] (that. THAT, fiscal responsibility, blahblah.)

[Danny Jones] She sticks her tongue out at James as he comments on her manners. "least I kin talk english n shit. Christ. Ain't half sure whatcha an Loki goin on about most the time."

Pause, and another, and final bite. "Ain't never gone get fat neither. High metabolism." Nods. So there.

[Joseph Morgan] One minute Kendra was the teenager to Joseph's rather spare scolding, the next he was the five year old to her exasperation. He didn't answer, but looked at her legs again, then turned his head over his shoulder to follow Kendra's eyes to James. He didn't know the man, either, but she did. Now, when he looked away again, he noticed Thaney and Danny. Joseph blinked his bleary eyes, hearing what James asked and what Kendra answered only peripherally.

There were things he didn't know. Didn't need to know, didn't particularly want to know. So he didn't ask. When he wanted to know (needed to know), he'd ask. She was intact. Everything was...intact.

He rubbed his face and blinked again. "Hi, Thaney. And...I bought you ice cream. Who are you?"

[Danny Jones] A laugh. "Yeah - that fancy italian shit. Was good too. M'Danny."

[princessa] "I'm guessing women," she replies, after Danny's quip, with the same serious air she has when she's listening to someone talk. With James, at least, it's probably a safe bet; she doesn't know Loki quite so well. Still. She watches Kendra, James, Joseph, Danny as they interact without doing anything else to be part of it. She's the quiet between words, get? Joe says hi. Princess's watchfulness stops on him. Nod, down. "Uh hm. You look tired. And you should both go home now, drink some hot chocolate." She nudges Kendra's shoulder, gently, with her own. Not hard enough to knock her down, but hard enough to be tangible. Wasn't a ghost touch. Eloquent, though.

[James Wagner] James didn't know what it was that Kendra won, only that she had. That she was still in one piece, living and breathing. In the end, isn't that what mattered? To the younger members of his tribe, James eventually adopted a sort of "big brother" attitude. "Good," was what he said to Kendra.

"Ye're probably better off nae fer knowin' what we're speakin' of, Danny me gal. Might be burnin' yer ears, ye know." Innocent teasing between packmates, it was. Back to Joe, his attention went. Introductions were best for folks you didn't know. Plus, it was rude to not introduce yourself. "James Wagner, lad. Kin be sayin' 'm Thaney an' Kendra's big brother. After a fashion, ye understand."

There was a twinkle in the Galliard's eye that hadn't been there before, a sort of spring in his step.

[Kendra Peterman] Kendra nodded her head to James's answer of 'good', satisfied to leave talk of her fight (slaughter) at that. She shivered once more, grunted, and shifted her weight about on her feet, fighting an urge to lean into the person standing closest to her at the time, Thaney. Not that fighting that urge did her much, because it wasn't three seconds later after the thought of stealing all Thaney's body heat crossed her mind that the Philodox Fianna, younger than Kendra but taller and somehow more willowy, bumped her shoulder-to-shoulder.

Another grunt was voiced, her foot slid forward to keep balance, and she glanced over her shoulder at Thaney, then offered a small grin and leaned her weight back, dipped her head in for a second to bump her forehead to Thaney's, then straightened back up quickly after. "Soun's like a plan..." She then looked to Joe, lifting a brow and waiting for his answer, for him to take the first step to lead them home (and, hopefully, to his car. That'd be nice.)

[Skadi] "Tha true born's skittish as a girl at a spider farm. Talks 'bout it all tha time, but won't never do nothin' about it. Figger he done strung her along 'long enough, an' I dunno about physical responsibility, but I'm thankin' that regular sex an' a kid or three would do fer her. " Her lingering tension is a stark contrast to his ease. Her forearms are stiff, her elbows locked, and her posture is straight. Beneath her arms, her torso sketches a lean, concave curve, core strength, there, subtle power. With her hair pulled back, the heart-shaped line of her jaw is visible in profile; so too, the long, arrogant nose, one half of the often-smorking mouth, the tendons in her neck that stand out, faintly.

Then: a sidelong look, touching on his eyes. "Thirty's real old. S'practically dead." The humor there, honed is nevertheless buried by the way tension lingers in her; by the way all that evidence of tension is heightened by his returned ease. "I didn't mean ta insultcha 'r nothin'. I figgered on it bein' good, all tha way 'round. Wouldna suggested it if I ain't figgered her fer bein' worth yer time, 'r nothin'."

[Joseph Morgan] His shoulders lifted once and dropped in a small shrug. "Gelato." Another small gesture, a single nod, this time to Thaney. "She smells bad." Of Kendra. Well, it's true.

James's introduction gets to him before Kendra's lift of her eyebrow, so Joseph turns towards the other man and blinks slowly again. "I do," he says mildly, and gives him a nod. One hand withdraws from the pocket of his jacket. He extends it to Wagner. "Joseph Morgan." Nothing more than that. His eyes speak for him, not in artistic eloquence or anything like that but in their shape, their dark color. Who he belongs to is written on his skin, which has paled with the disappearance of the sun but is of a complexion that will obviously, easily tan to bronze once summer hits. Whenever his lips part it seems as though his canines should be a little bit sharper than the average man's, his smile a little more wicked.

He's older than all of them, and he feels it now more than he usually does.

[Danny Jones] She grins at Joseph. "Yeah! Gelato. That was it. Was good too. Have to find ya again come summer time when it's hot as James scentin a redhead." Oh. the innocence of that grin.

And to Thaney? "S'always women. I swear, they ain't never talk bout nothin else. This'un an' that'un and the other'un too. And then? When I talks about guys? They get all eye rolly and "he ain't good nuff for ya" and stuff. The hell?" snorts.

[John Barrister] Physical responsibility -- "Fiscal," he corrects; gently, always gently. Almost as soon as the words are out of his mouth, he shakes his head, "Nevermind: financial, is what I meant. Financial responsibility." She goes on, the true born skittish, regular sex and a kid or three. John laughs behind closed lips, his big solid shoulders shaking under his coat. "Far be it from financial responsibility to come in the way of trueborn love, though."

Thirty is almost dead, and he shoots her another glance, sharper, wryer. And it bears mentioning that he is, indeed, easy in her presence. Easeful: his long gait slow, his big body slightly hunched to put him more on her level. It's probably not often that Skadi has to look up so far to a man. Then again, she was a Garou in a tribe of giants.

Anyhow. Thirty is almost dead: "Well, I'm five years a corpse, then. And your girl is, what." He eyes Skadi, estimates her age, makes a judgment from her big-sister tone, though to be honest with garou you couldn't trust that, "Twenty? Twenty-five on the outside, with a trueborn in mind? She won't go for it. And me, I'm content to be on my own for a while. Me and Bruin." Remembering, he sends a whistle into the dark, and somewhere far off they can hear rustling foliage, claws on concrete.

[Kendra Peterman] (( Sorry to bail, but this is the third time I've had to jerk my head off the desk. :/ Kendra'll be quiet, tired, and peaceful enough, linger about and wait up for Joe patiently. ))
to Danny Jones, James Wagner, John Barrister, Joseph Morgan, princessa, Skadi

[princessa] (( ::grins:: And Princess'll hurry Joe along as best she can. Good night, Kenna girl! ))
to Danny Jones, James Wagner, John Barrister, Joseph Morgan, Kendra Peterman, Skadi

[James Wagner] If Joseph thought he was old, then how did our poor James feel? Thirty-three and getting no younger. The hand extended was accepted by the Galliard, a firm handshake and no more. Both Kendra and Joe seemed like they could use a few hours sleep, if not a day's sleep. Sitting down on the otherside of Thaney, James' arm reaches out to dig a finger into the Bone Gnawer's ribs (should she be within reach).

" 'Ere now, ye wee biter. I'll be 'avin' ye know I dinnae be chasin' e'ery redhead what comes struttin' by!" A mock-growl and grin for Danny as he looks between them all. James snorts after Danny does. "An' t'is b'cause we're fer knowin' there's slight few o' men what kin be 'andlin' ye. An' speakin' o' which, ye e'er get a chance tae talk wit' yer boyo?" Just because his most recent interest happens to be a redhead, didn't mean the Fianna didn't go after all shades of women.

Smoothing his beard out of habit, he rolled his eyes. "Bloody fookin' wimmen an' their misc'nceptions o' men."

[Kendra Peterman] (( Yar. Night ladies 'n gents! ))
to Danny Jones, James Wagner, John Barrister, Joseph Morgan, princessa, Skadi

[princessa] "Night, Kendra. Water and soap," she says, once introductions have been concluded. Joseph; well, he only gets a serious look, and, finally, "You sleep well, too."

There. If that's not a hint, what is? Danny gets the faint curve of a smile, a little sly, a little knowing. But Princess doesn't actually say anything.

[Joseph Morgan] The corner of Joseph's mouth twists up slightly at Danny, settles again. He didn't bother with making his handshake firm usually, certainly not when he was tired. Whatever people thought they could read about a person from such a greeting hardly mattered to him - they could surmise that he was lazy. He wouldn't argue. But after he took his hand back from the elder Fianna, Joseph looked over at Kendra.

He looked from her to Thaney and gave the Philodox a little nod.

The long arm in the leather jacket didn't suddenly wrap around the young woman's shoulders, and he certainly didn't offer her his coat, not when she had that nice blanket and all. He had brought the car, but it would take awhile to walk to it. He just touched her arm, briefly, to indicate that he was leaving. Then they were walking, both of them, down the path towards wherever Joseph had left the vehicle. Oh, he'd sleep.

Thirty-six hours and change. Maybe thirty-seven, now.

[Danny Jones] And, cue Danny blush. And duck of head. and hey! hide behind finishing off that soda, kay? Yeah. Definitely all of that, because you know.... well. you know. And she squirms away from the tickling jab of finger and sticks her tongue out at James. "i ain't a kid or nuthin, I kin figure out who I wants all by myself." and she adds a pout. Because it's cute. And she's Danny. And sometimes, it feels good to just be a teenager.

Conveniently, she IS just a teenager to most eyes. Little do they know...

She nods, slightly. "Tol' ya over the 'phone! He's lookin into it. Gotta give'im time to crunch the numbers n shit. We ain't his only job ya know." defensive! This is HER detective here. (possessive)

Fortunately - it's cute. In that gotta crush on the dreamy detective sorta way.

[Skadi] The girl-warrior-beast-thing is quiet; watchful-quiet. Her eyes track up, to the kinsman's face, and her mouth spreads into something like a grin; it's not enough, not yet, to erase the telltale physical signs of her alertness, her posture, the shape of her hands in her front pockets, the sketch of her lean body beneath the free-hanging suede jacket, but there's a spark of humor in her eyes, just as sharp his response to her quip about the age of thirty.

She takes a breath, opens her mouth to say something even harder than the spark in her eye, breathes in - and then shakes it off, before the words come out. "'Zat mean I cain't play matchmaker no more? 'R jus' that I gotta find ya an old lady ta match you? 'R I kin make her dye 'er hair gray 'n give her a cane, so's y'aint - " She doesn't finish it; the thought, the sentence, the unsubtle riff on age (his, anyone's) or youth. Her chin rises sharply as Bruin closes the distance; the brush nearby rustles, the moist nose appears, and she frowns at the shadows, watching, subtly detaching herself from Barrister's side so that he can find and re-attach the lead.

" - ain't gon' interrupt yer walk no more, but if ya change yer mind," the grin flashes wider; she's two steps behind him, her rage a subtle prickling presence across his skin, and although he cannot see her, he can hear the expression in her voice. " - Mister Barrister, ya let me know."

[John Barrister] "You didn't interrupt." It's an automatic politeness. Then he considers it, and amends it, or somehow makes it genuine: "I didn't mind the company."

Bruin's on his way past John Barrister and toward Skadi with the sort of straight-necked beeline that says he's probably had all this time to drum up his courage and now he was going to try something stupid. Growl, or worse. But John reaches down with his big hairy hand and grabs him deftly by the collar, clamping the hound firm between his knees as he hooks the leash back on and backs him out of biting range.

Straightening up, there's exasperation there, and a laughing smile, and the certain wavering of better judgment a man tends to experience when faced with a confident, attractive woman who wanted something -- even if that something had nothing to do with herself. This, of course, would be why girls ask their popular friends to introduce them to the cute guy in sixth period. Or so John surmised. "Well," he gives, a goodhumored sort of reluctance, "if you're hellbent on introducing us, I suppose there's no harm in coming out of the cloister for one date." A pause, while he unbutton his coat in anticipation of the brisk walk back. An admonishment: "A lunch date."

[James Wagner] James grins broadly at Danny's blush and so forth. Tit for tat, my dear Gnawer. "Aye, ye're nae a child, lass. Ain't fer thinkin' ye're one." A nod. She mentions that Drake is working on it, and that's all the answer he really needs. "Ye told me on th' phone? Mm. Musta slipped m' mind." James can't remember every damnable phone call that he makes. Especially when a certain someone is sending him raunchy pictures of themselves.

James mutters something about "wedding bells" with a glance shifted Danny's way, and he chuckles to himself. Ah, to be young and in love. Prodding Thaney with his finger, he arched a brow. "So, me darlin' Philo, who's yer love innerest? Since we all seem t'be 'avin' one."

[princessa] The fountains are going, again, and the sweet, sweet splash of clarity has her eyes again. She's listening, though; listening, because that's all she really needs to do. "Ow," she says, when James pokes at her. Her eyebrows beetle, and she gives him a single glance. "Don't have one," she says, distantly. Then unbends: "Okay. I do." She scratches the back of her neck, then rubs her forehead and looks at her hand. Kendra bumped her gore-gristled head against Priness's, after all; she doesn't want some kind of gunk there, like a confession of murder. "His name's Leonardo DiCaprio. From The Departed, particularly." Said so easily, so deadpan, that it might take a moment for name recognition to catch up to the little bone gnawer and the not so little fianna.

[Skadi] "Gimme yer number - " Fenrir do not crow about their victories in front of a fallen but worthy foe; Skadi now struggles to live up to this ideal. It is a valient but ultimately futile effort: her voice is enlivened with a sort of visceral delight rarely heard or seen among their rather dour ranks. Now her mouth is a wide slash, white teeth behind it, eyes sparkling, - " 'n I'll talk ta her 'n letcha know."

[Skadi] A moment passes.

Deadpan. "Ya gon' want me ta chaparone?"

[John Barrister] While a sigh and an uncharacteristic eyeroll that signals uncharacteristic defeat, John, smiling ruefully, pats down his pockets until he finds a scrap of paper. His pen he pulls from his inner pocket. The number's jotted down quickly, from memory, two of them. He points at them, "That's my cell, and that's my landline." His eyes fly up to meet hers, one eyebrow cocking up, the corner of his mouth following a moment afterwards. "No. Leave me an escape route if and when it turns disastrous." And he hands her the slip of paper.

[Danny Jones] She wads up the container her dogs were in and throws it at James "You stoppit! Ain't no wedding no where near no one no how GAH!" So eloquent, hm?

Then, Thaney says she has a love! And Danny perks up, and then? "....Leonardo?" And then.. "Oh! Oh he's a cutie. Not near as cute as the Capt'n, o'course, but we all can't have a pirate." nods.

[James Wagner] James just laughs, fending off Danny's attacks. Thaney's words receive another laugh. The Fianna shook his head and dipped his hand into the fountain's waters.

[princessa] "I'm going to haul my butt home," she says, tugging her cap down. She'll walk along the fountain's edge, right where the water splishes the most; brush against Danny, wind around James. Animal. Sometimes it shows. "I know a guy with a pawn shop, you ever need a ring," she offers, as far as Danny and weddings go. Then, quirk of a typically serious smile, "You two take care." She's walking backwards away from them now, leading hard on her heels, stiff-legged cowboy walk.

[Skadi] "I'll give ya a call." The girl flashes another grin; somehow, at last, the subtle indices of tension have been erased. She displays the scrap of paper between her fore-and-middle fingers, then tuckets it into her right front pocket, taking two steps backward and saluting of all things, before she turns on heel, giving Barrister and Bruin the space to finish their walk. "Night, John. 'N Beart!"

[Danny Jones] She groans and rolls her eyes, even as she grins up at Thaney and leans into the soft brush. Familiar, the touch. "Ya'll are impossible." she mutters, under her breath, even as she shoves the empty soda can into one pocket, and liberates the second from the other pocket, popping the top and taking a long swig.

Then, sly, to James. "Ya fuckin'er yet?" Tit for Tat, fianna-boy.

[James Wagner] "Weell," James said as he scooted closer to Danny, all conspirator-like. "If'n ye must b'knowin..." James trailed on, giving his packmate a bit of suspence.

[Danny Jones] She rolls her eyes, and smirks. Damn Fianna and their games. "Well, was just idle curiosity n shit. Figured if ya ain't, ya loosin ya touch. I mean ya ARE gettin old and all..."

Blink blink. Innocent.

[James Wagner] "Ain't fer losin' m'touch. If'n ye must be knowin', then aye." Hence why James is in a decent mood. "Ain't s'old as ye'd be thinkin', gal. Sure 'n I've pleased no few o' th'wimmen 'n m'past."

[princessa] A final wave, and another - small - shake of her head. The libidos on those two. Then she turns, leaves the packmates a-giggling together like school girls, is walking away, disappearing from sight down one or the other of Grant Park's paths, thinking on how much she needs to get a car, but at least there's sunlight, and the bus's are running, and maybe she'll see Henry and manage to bum a ride in a paramedic van, which she's always been interested in doing.