John Barrister

[Berlin Jaeger] Aparently, you are not supposed to take the money from the wishing fountains around this place. That was the City's job. It wasn't like she wasn't going to pay it back, she'd said so herself. She'd been knee-deep in some nameless, faceless fountain, taking some of the change for food purposes. She said she would give it back, and that was good enough.

Besides, the birds liked the shiny, shiny coins. The only problem was that this was too deep for a birdbath. So, whatever she got was, more than likely, going somewhere in a shiny, shiny bag. With probably bits of bread and some kind of meat that probably should have been stuck in the fridge by now instead of a plastic baggie inside a jar with ice cubes in it.

Berlin Jaeger was an innovator, in that sense... even if it did seem a little (understatement) unnatural.

But, with that being said, we open the scene to where it is now. In some alleyway, slipping out, with a rather small, rather waterlogged thirteen year old girl hitting the streets. Her boots made a rather displeased squelching sound when they hit the pavement, her pants were rolled up to her knees and pride alone kept her from shivering. On a lighter note, Berlin didn't look filthy right now. She just looked wet. Wet and in a dorky, pink hat that covered up most of her hair.

The rather intense little lady (because, damnit, if she kept being told she was a lady eventually it would stick in her brain) stepped out and looked down the street for a moment and waited. Waited for the police officer, or whoever decided that wading in the water fountain was a bad idea, to show up. They didn't need to deal with DHS right now, they didn't need to deal with people wondering where their parents were, they didn't need that. As far as Berlin was concerned, she needed to keep the birds happy, and that was pretty low on the priority list all things considered.

[Bogie Jaeger] Its easy really, Berlin's making it too easy.
Bogie sneaks up behind her and grabs her dress and pulls her back into the darkness of the alley. "Dude, like he's gonna totally SEE you! Stay in the darkness!" Its a whisper but a bit harsh, his breathing crackling with what control he has, with trying to keep his inner werewolf still Inner.

She might fight back. That's ok, they do that. A lot.
Bogie makes utterly no attempt to hide what he is, not the ferociousness too intense for a boy, not the way he nearly shakes with the light of Luna out there someplace beyond the clouds. In fact, just now, what is barely hiding in the darkness is helpful, pushes away the threat of discovery he thinks.
Walk faster. Don't look in the alley...

[J.B.] A wet, bedraggled child comes out of the alley.
Another one, possibly as bedraggled, though perhaps not as wet, yanks her back in.

This draws the attention of the thirty-something man jogging past with his dog. You know -- your average big-city resident. Probably lives in a highrise apartment or a tiny house with no yard. Cares enough about his health and appearance to keep in shape, and enough about his dog to exercise outside, even in this weather. White tennis shoes, black sweatpants and a grey pullover damp with sweat at the collar and down the back are proof against the elements -- hell, he's jogged all through the freezing winter, and this was almost warm in comparison.

As we mentioned, though, the kids in the alley catch his attention. The jogger stops at the alleymouth, which is considerably less dirty and sinister than an alleymouth would be in, say, bronzeville. The dog, a big black-and-tan hound, strains on his leash and comes to an unwilling stop. J.B. wipes a drop of sweat off the tip of his nose onto the sleeve of his sweatshirt, puffs white steam in the cold air.

"Little late for you two to be out, isn't it?" Maybe he was old-fashioned. These days, 14 year old kids were as good as adults. 12 year olds were running around getting pregnant ... maybe not having kids of his own wasn't such a bad thing after all. "Do your parents know you're here?"

[Berlin Jaeger] And she elbowed him. In the ribs. Hard. No one pulls on her dress, no matter how painfully girly it is. Because she was soggy and sparklie. Well, maybe not sparklie, but she was pink. No, no pink was not the color of a warrior. Unless one counted the innards of their fallen foes, but this wasn't fallen foe-intestines pink. This was bubblegum pink. It matched her hat.

She shot him a dirty, dirty look, but then... then she stopped and turned. She looked out the alleyway at the jogger, his dog... a dog that might have very well been about ten pounds lighter than Berlin at best. She folded her arms across her chest and stared out at the man for a moment. Instead of looking up... up... up... she took a step back. She stood infront of Bogie, and she talked.

"'course they know we're here."

She then looked at him incredulously.

"what's it to you?"

spoken like a thirteen year old girl.

[Bogie Jaeger] Something. Something. Bogie starts bouncing a bit, hopping from one leg to the other as he winds up with excitement.
MAD excitement, like a short toeheaded psychopathic killer about to go on a rampage. This is no normal tweeny kid. THIS boy might just look right in a black trenchcoat, heading into a school with a semiautomatic rifle tucked under the fabric, about to blow away all his so called friends.
And now, he lunges for the entrance of the alley, nose first, eyes kinda wild, sniffing like he's either smelling hot dogs or about to sneeze monster boogers all over the first guy he comes to.

Of course he boings right out of the alley, a dead run a few times around the Dog and the Man and this might piss off the dog but hey, its a DOG, dude.
"YES!! Berlin-- smells like.. smells like..."
And then, regardless of the possibly angered or cowering dog, the kid points in astonishment at the stranger who is interrogating his sister. "DUDE!! its YOU!! You like... TOTALLY smell! Berlin!! Can you smell him??"
The kid inhales again, deeply, and then grins widely enough to maybe scare. "Smells like.. badass!"

[Innocuous] (Folks mind if I loiter 'n watch?)
to Berlin Jaeger, Bogie Jaeger, J.B.

[Berlin Jaeger] ((go for it, mister man!))
to Bogie Jaeger, Innocuous, J.B.

[J.B.] Barrister grimaces. Great, he thinks. Kids with attitudes. As if there were any other sort at their age.

At least he had the dignity not to have to resist sniffing his pits to make sure he didn't really stink as bad as he knew he did. With a barely-stifled sigh of exasperation, John turns to face them fully, the dog leash looped around one wrist, his hands clasped behind his back. Authority: that's what he looks like to your average kid, whether they liked it or not. Loomingly tall; wide, besides. Gruff, with heavy eyebrows that drew down over dark eyes like thunderheads in august.

"It's nearly 11pm." Lecture tones, these. "Lakeview is safe, but it's not that safe. Don't you read the news? Just last week a little old lady got mugged two blocks from here. Now run along home before your parents start worrying."

[J.B.] (WAY belated: i don't mind :D)
to Berlin Jaeger, Bogie Jaeger, Innocuous

[Berlin Jaeger] He looked like an authority figure. His eyes were blue, his posture stated that he was a man who knew he was in control. She looked at Bogie quickly and then headed off to go... confirm? Yes. Quick inhalation, something about him stuck out to her and said, yes, this man was acceptable.

"Well, you're a grown up. And it's late. And old people are getting mugged. We're taking you home."

She looked at Bogie and nodded, as if she had decided this was mutually beneficial. that, yes, she liked the way this guy smelled. Backpack over her shoulder, looking up.. up... up at the man who was over a foot taller than her.

"Dude, he like, totally doesn't smell like that hot dog guy or anything but I so totally don't care because- like. Yeah. This is better."

yes. Fenrir overruled hotdogs. Hands down.

[Bogie Jaeger] "We didn't mug that old lady. We weren't like even in TOWN yet! Hey! Yeah Berlin, we gotta totally like make sure he gets home safe! Dude, man, whoever you are, Chicago's waaay rough for a nice cousin like you to be out this late." The kid-- the KID- nods protectively at JB, nods wildly enough to shake water at the man, not that it matters a great deal at this point.
"Who are you anyways? Can you make pancakes? Berlin can like.. eat her weight in pancakes. She's gonna get fat off them. I like meat with mine, and maybe eggs. But you know.. whatever. DUDE like do you have people watchin out for you already? Who's your people??
Sounds like a kid, moves like an axe-murderer, with a threatening intensity to everything he does...

[J.B.] The edge of John's mouth quirks before he gets ahold of himself, schools it back into a stern line. 'Taking you home' instead of 'please walk us home.' Teenage bravado. Go figure. "Go ahead, lead the way. I'll follow back here. Bruin isn't good with strangers," the dog, presumably.

John makes a note to himself to have a talk with the parents -- a good long talk about how kids today can't just go trusting strangers to walk them home, much less wander around at 11pm and give out their home address. The hound jerks on his leash, antsy, unhappy to be near the pair, a mean-looking dog if ever there was one. With the sort of thoughtless patience that comes with long practice and long affection, Barrister shifts his grip on the leash and reins him in some.

Then the other kid, the louder ones, starts going on. John's humor abates some. Not so amused now, the big man shifts his weight between his feet, giving the boy a sharp, surprisingly astute glance. Big, but not dumb, John Barrister. "Sorry?" Plays his cards close to the chest, too.

[Berlin Jaeger] "No, like, dude. We need to know where you live because we're like, taking you home. You just said it wasn't safe because it's like eleven o'clock and it's dark and you don't know what could be out here."

She then looked at him, and she couldn't hold back. Not that she wanted to, anyways. She came up rather close to John, probably- okay, definitely- invading his personal space. She looked at his face, bright blue eyes narrowed slightly and then she nodded. As if being so close, practically tasting his scent made all the difference. She took a step back.

"We gotta know if we gotta have your back or not, man. Dude, Bogie, he totally smells like one of our peeps."

Or maybe John and their "peeps" used the same aftershave. Then Bogie talked at she shot him a look. A look of a teenage girl, fueled with righteous anger, an defensive about her thighs.

"Dude, shut uuuuuuup! I'mnotgonnagetfaaaaaat!"

[Bogie Jaeger] Something eventually hammers its way into the boy's head.
"You! Berlin you are too gonna like pork out and stuff. Thunder thighs... but no seriously, family dude. You are like.. totally not afraid of me are you?? HOLY SHOo-- ahh SHIT!! SHIT!" Gleeful, he cusses a few times for practice. Cussing practice.
Cliaths can TOTALLY cuss!
"Course you ain't afraid of me! Cause you're like badass family! And who are you? And no, our mom's off in Wyoming. Our dad already died in combat. Berlin and me, we are here on business." Twelve-year old business, apparently.
John isnt afraid, but the dog-- the dog's gonna get freaked if Bogie stays too close, so he doesnt, hops back a few steps, where he continues to sort of hop in place, from foot to foot.

[J.B.] John: six-four, sweaty, with short dark hair and dark dark eyes that were only blue in the right light -- looks at them for a long time. Ignores the rambling and the shouting -- no, ignores it the best he can though his eyes wince a little at the noise -- and just looks at them.

(And yes, the dog is uneasy. Very. He jerks on the leash; hard to say if he's lunging forward or back, when Berlin steps up. John Barrister, though; he doesn't step back. He meets the girl's eyes evenly, searches them -- then her brother's.)

And like that, a small decision made. Kids: nothing but trouble. And these, more than most.

"Okay. Let's go. And keep it down, all right? This is a quiet neighborhood."

[Berlin Jaeger] Kids, nothing but trouble. These kids were kids on a mission though, so it was okay. Somehow, that fact made it all the better. She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her ridiculously pink dress and headed on the way. She'd look at John ever so often, and she would just smiiiiiiile. Or avoid smiling. Or avoid looking like she was smiling.

Nothing but trouble.

[Bogie Jaeger] He could walk along all politely and stu--shit. OR, the boy could range forward, kinda skip-running, forward and then back and then forward, constantly in motion as the hyperactive kid he is. Not carefree though, for every motion is not only far more smooth, more graceful than other kids his age but loaded with some sort of vibrancy, a predator's power and knowledge. Not the normal kid.
SO, tonight, John has an escort, if smaller than he might like, and with quite a bit more attitude than he might be comfortable with, no matter his inner fortitude.
Back and forth, but!!
Bogie's Quiet!

[J.B.] A quiet neighborhood, John called it -- and that's what it is. Quiet. There are parts of Lakeview that have a certain european flair to them: midrise brick buildings, the ground floor of which were occupied by small boutiques and independent shops, the upper stories of which were grotesquely overpriced flats, studios and condominiums. Then there's these parts, which are all two-laned streets with short blocks and no stoplights. A few stops signs, here and there. Big trees lining the sidewalks, amongst which are seated various houses, mostly small, with smaller yards. Once upon a time this area was lower-middle class, but with the rise of Chicago as a modern city and real estate inflation, nowadays only households with incomes well above the national median could eke out a home here.

They're quiet, all three of them. The dog pants and hangs back, unwilling to walk abreast of the not-children. John Barrister, well: his thoughts are his own, and he keeps them that way all the way back to his place.

The kinsman stops in front of a house smaller than most: a one-story, vaguely L-shaped affair with a one-car garage and a rather neatly tended garden. The whole lot looks to be the size of a ball court, ridiculously, incongruously small for such a large man, and it's all fenced in with a neat little fence. White. Picket, at that. Barrister is tall enough that he has to stoop a little to unlatch the gate, and ushers the pair in.

The front door is equally incongruous. It's big, thick, heavy, and solid. It's a door that means business, that wouldn't be easy to ram down. The deadbolt slides back audibly, and Barrister thumps the door open with his shoulder. The paint is old, and sticks a little.

"I'm going to put Bruin in the backyard. Some sodas in the fridge, if you want them."

The living room is tiny, sports only one sofa, one armchair, a coffee table and a television. There's not much room for anything else. There's a fireplace, cold; over it, on the mantle, some pictures and knickknacks. Perhaps wisely, Barrister doesn't give them much time to explore. He's soon back, dogless now, coming in the front door and shutting it behind him. The house was built long before either of them were born, and has the low pebbled ceiling of a 70s residence. Standing in the living room, John looks like he might hit his head on the ceiling any second.

[Berlin Jaeger] "BogieIswearoneverythingifyoudrinkallhissodaIwillkillyou."

And that all came out in one breath. She looked at him with a rather sharp look. But... then... she grinned and wandered off to the kitchen with- opkay, so she didn't wander. She ran for it. There was soda in the fridge and she was going to drink it. Berlin stopped and took the moment to peruse his fridge. It was as if the measure of her kinsman could be determined by what he had in his pantry.

She called back while she was looking in the fridge, crouched infront of it if given the opportunity, and making note if there were any pickles. She took her hat off, stuffing it into her backpack and waiting ever... so... patiently.

"Dude, you have a house. That's cool."

[Bogie Jaeger] When the kin seems to be aimed at a certain location, the little cutey house, Bogie hangs back to inspect the outside, crosses his arms and just stares around with an evaluating glare more at home on a man ten or twenty years his senior. Defensible? Hah.
But when the kid gets done with it...yeeaaahhhhh.
Bogie sneers at the Enemy, out there, and then heads inside.

JB just offered Bogie caffeinated soda???
Oh yeah. Now the kid darts to the fridge and starts sucking bubbly drinks, drips on the floor which hopefully is easily cleaned, then shakes his hair wild messy furiously and adds that lived in look to the hapless kitchen.
"it's just a soda or two! he said we co-- oooh he's got MILK!!" And like that, he's on the milk.

[J.B.] The fridge is what you might expect. It's large, but largely empty. There is soda. And beer, which is what J.B. chooses. And no, they weren't getting any beer offered, though if they helped themselves to it -- well, that bridge will be crossed if and when they get there. There is also sandwich meat, and bread, and milk, half a scraggly head of lettuce. PB&J. And a package of red meat, beef top sirloin, defrosting on the bottom shelf.

When the three of them reconvene in the living room, John gives the girl a wry sort of smile. "You can thank my wife for that. She wanted the house and the picket fence. Wouldn't let me sell it even after we'd moved away." He twists the cap off his beer effortlessly, his big hairy paws more than a match for a twist-top brew. Letting them have the sofa, he sits in the old armchair, which appears to be his favorite seat anyway.

"So, I'm John Barrister. You guys just blow into town, or what?"

[Berlin Jaeger] "When'd ya come back?"

She headed to the couch and sat down. Berlin, being Berlin and soggy, decided that she was going to have to take off her shoes first before doing anything. Unlacing her boots and leaving them by her backpack. They were closeby; it wasn't like, if things got back, she was going to need to wear shoes. John was a physically large man, and hte kids?

Well, physically large didn't quite describe them, but they were seemingly concentrated intensity. the way she moved was a bit too graceful. A bit too out of place in her own skin at times. Whether this be what she was born as or not, sometimes, it did feel foreign.

"We just got off the bus a few days ago. We were told we were needed."

[Bogie Jaeger] "Wife? Cool. Where is she? I'm Bogart Jaeger, but you can call me Bogie. Eclipsed full moon of Fenris, cliath. Funny you should say Blow in.... So like if you moved away, why are you still here?"
The milk carton in hand, he has bounded into the living room and keeps himself active by poking around, not in the nosy way, but to the windows, examining the angles of entry, of possible shooters trying to take out his family, how hard it might be to set up a little surprise for someone trying to get in where they had no business. Bogie moves with the authority of his tribe, confident-- or dumb-- beyond his years, beyond the illusion of humanity.
Turning abruptly, he bounds over to the couch and nearly bounces to stillness inthe seat, before hopping up and moving to the door, the milk still in hand, sucking at it every so often. "Yeah. We are gonna express our anger in a way that is both creative and productive all over the place in Chicago." We are Pack, bonded to Twister. So who looks out for you, Mr. Barrister?"

[J.B.] "I moved back," he answers both their questions at once, "last year."

This could be an interrogation -- hell, maybe it was. Still, Barrister makes it seem like a conversation. He sits back in his chair, comfortable in his own home. And the kids, who weren't really kids at all: well, they'd be comfortable anywhere. It's one of the blessings of strength, true strength. Of the knowledge that few things in this world could kill you.

A pull of beer. "My wife went the way of your dad." He's very even about this; matter of fact. A pause, then their words, a little foreign on his tongue: "My mate." A shrug. His shoulders seem the size of boulders, rolling under his sweatshirt.

He chooses to ignore the line about expressing anger -- it was too left field for him. Instead, he answers the question, "I look out for myself, Mr. Jaeger." There's just the faintest hint of humor there; a light teasing tone, prodding fun at the Mr's. "But if you're trying to get in touch with the tribe here, last I heard there was a lady by the name of Skadi."

So his news was outdated.

[Berlin Jaeger] "I'm Berlin. Shines like rubies, crescent moon. cliath, fenrir."

She nodded, her smaller introduction done. John spoke of his mate, she took a drink... she'd died in battle? Or maybe she was still around and doing what she could. For that, for who and what she might have been, and for whatever reason [because they were guests.] Berlin didn't bounce on the couch... even though she really, really wanted to.

"Ohhh, so, ah, any particular direction you could point us in to talk to her? Mister Ba- hey, do we call you mister Barrister or John?"

She had to ask. She took another drink of her soda. his information was out-of-date. She had no idea. This would, eventually, be remedied.

"But getting in touch would be, like, reeaaaally good. We already met one in the park, but the more the merrier, ya know?"

[Bogie Jaeger] The kid bursts out laughign. "Ok I was just trying to be like polite and stuf- uhh shit. And Shit! Dude, that's like, sad but glorious, you know? and ya know, she's probably out there now, visiting our trueborn as a spirit! Death, it ain't shit, you know? Glory lives forever! OH man, i totally drank all your milk."
Off he heads, yakking as he goes. "You know... I bet you could kick some serious uhh" And here, he seems to have to MAKE himself finish the sentance, all but swallowing, as the fridge door opens.
"ass, but there's shit out there, out there in the Umbra, someone's gotta make sure there aint' someone nasty out there just waiting to eat you or worse, ya know? So like.. we could totally do that for you. Can I make a sandwich? Or more?"
Stuff is getting moved in that fridge, moved around, sniffed, set down, and then there's a popping hiss as some bottletop is opened...

[J.B.] "John's fine. Wait, I've got her number somewhere." John gets up, goes to the kitchen. Drawers clank, papers rustle. A hammer clunks. Eventually he comes back with a scrapped-up piece of paper. "Have a pen?"

He reads them the number. God only knows who they'll reach if they called it.

[J.B.] (shit, i missed bogie's post!)

[J.B.] Wry, "I'm sure you guys weren't sent all this way just to keep an eye on me, Bogie. I'll be fine. Really. Leave me your numbers. I'll call if I bite off more than I can chew." And, while Bogie sifts through his fridge, "Yeah, help yourself. Just leave me enough for lunch tomorrow."

[Berlin Jaeger] "Duuuuude, Bogiiiieee, make me a sammich."

Yes. She asked for him to make her a sandwich. She got up and started to head to the backpack. She pulled out a ridiculously sparkle-ie purse and then took out a rather feminine pen. And a pen from a bank that she had presumably walked out with while taking deposit slips or something.

"Uh, yeah, 'bout that... we don't really have a number. Could give you a payphone number, but can't guarentee it'll be us answering."

[Bogie Jaeger] "wait a sec. I'm gonna go do the sneak rite and then peek over and see what its like on the Other Side, Berlin. I bet its like totally crap out there. We are gonna have an AWESOME time! This ll be fun! Nah man, its fine, its what we do, go kill shit, you know? Besides, we don't have territory yet, so might as well be around here."
And like.. might as well commandeer his place.... or at least his lunch meat and bread.
After a quick snack, and he makes one for John and berlin too if they want, Bogie bounces over to the bathroom and shuts the door, turns off the lights for some quick ritual and looking around time in the umbra...

[Bogie Jaeger] (ok enjoy, um.. bye!)

[J.B.] Good grief.

"Did your last Sept toss the two of you out here completely unprepared?" He hadn't meant to say that out loud. Generally, kinfolk did not speak to Garou in such terms -- but sometimes it's hard to look at 12- and 13-year olds as anything but 12- and 13-year olds. Prepubescents. Way too young to be put on a bus and sent to the big bad city, where they go to live, fight, and die.

It's a sobering thought. It mutes some of his exasperation and disbelief; instills in him some sense of pity. Is it strange to pity creatures such as they, who were stronger, faster, more powerful than he would ever be; who see things he'll never see; who live life more urgently and more vibrantly than he ever will? John takes a pull of his beer, then sets it on the coffee table, leans forward to put his elbows on his knees.

"All right, look." He's patient now; and more, he wants to help. It's genuine. He's not going through the motions. Maybe they can smell that the way they can smell his breeding, his shadowy ranks and files of ancestors that stretch back through the generations. "As far as I know, your Caern is somewhere on the waterfront. If you go there, you can hook up with the others. They can probably even set you up with a permanent address and a phone number. If all else fails, come back here. I'm not letting you stay with me -- " just to get that out of the way " -- you'll drive Bruin nuts, and anyway once in a while I like to think I have a chance at bringing a lady friend home. But if you can't find a place to stay or a phone to use, I'll figure something out. Okay?"

[J.B.] (fuck, i just remembered JB knows exactly where the caern is. pretend he told her.)

[Berlin Jaeger] "We'll keep you informed."

For a brief moment, she didn't function like a thirteen year old girl. It was hard to do, because it was sort of her natural state, whatever the nation viewed them as, whatever duties they had to perform, the fact of the matter was that they were still adolescents in some sense. They may have been adults to the Garou- capable of living, fighting, dying, doing whatever they could, but they were still young. And, because they were young, they had to live. Truly live, because their time felt so much shorter because their purpose was realized so much sooner.

"Don't stress, it'll all work out mister man."

He did not need to worry. That was all she could think of to say about that. Berlin stretched a little and hopped herself up off the couch and went to go put all her effects in order.

"Don't think that doesn't mean we won't check up on you though. But hopefully not when you have lady friends. Because that would be gross. And weird."

[J.B.] "You guys know where I am. You're always welcome here." It could be lip service; but it's not. The corners of Barrister's eyes crinkle when he smiles, and it's the first time he's really smiled all night. He realizes, with a pleasant sense of surprise, that he liked the Jaeger siblings. Might not be able to stand them except in small servings, but liked them nonetheless. "I'll put a sock on the doorknob if I've got company," he adds, ironically. College was a long-ass time ago for him, and probably an impossibility for them. He wonders if they even get the joke.

The girl starts getting her things together. The boy has already poofed somewhere -- literally. J.B. gets to his feet as well. "You guys want a ride someplace, or are you going to just run it?"

[Berlin Jaeger] She smiled a little. teeth too white,, and a bit too straight, but no moreso than someone from a toothpaste commercial. She then heard something about socks on the door, and it made her blink, and look a little confused. Right. Over. Her. Head. Backpack back on, boots lacing up. Yes, Vriginia, the kid owned combat boots. to think that they made them for people under five feet tall was a little funny to think about, but she owned them. The little girl owned some very no-nonsense footwear. And, apparently, copious amounts of pink.

"We'll run it. Bogie needs the exercise... 'sides, defeats the whole purpose of walking you home if you just go right back out again."

And eat your peas, John. Call your mother, John. She grinned a little at him, maybe she was aware of the vaguely protective tone she had adopted.

"We'll, like, keep in touch or something."

[Berlin Jaeger] (wow, can I make any more typos? Please?)

[J.B.] (i'm sure you can cram a few more in :D)

There's an irony to it -- this sort of mutual protectiveness. J.B. recognizes it; that, more than anything, makes him smile back.

He walks the little pink godi to the door. And flips on the outside path lamps for her. "Have a good night, Berlin. Say 'bye to your brother for me."

The kinsman stands on the porch, waving if she turns back. When she's through the gate and past the maple just outside the front lawn, J.B. goes back in. The door shuts quietly behind him; locks bolt. A little later the living room lights go dark. The bedroom light stays on a while longer -- eventually, that goes out too.

[Berlin Jaeger] ((aaand I'm out!))