a stabbing pain[Ground Rules:
1. Keep track of your own health and tempers.
2. There is no post order, but please post once for each post I make unless I specify otherwise. Do your best to post in 10 minutes or less.
3. Declares and rolls in 2 minutes or less. If you miss it, you will be skipped, and it will be considered an auto-fail IC.
4. You are free to multi-task, as long as you can keep within the above deadlines. If you repeatedly miss it, I may ask you to leave one of your scenes out of respect for myself and the other players.
5. There is a moderate to For Real chance of character death/maiming in this scene. If you're uncomfortable with that and want to hightail it out of here, I won't take it personally.
6. Please PM me now if you have any phobias, triggers, or off-limits themes that you either a) do not want to deal with at all in your RP or b) need advance warning of. If none, no need to tell me 'none'.
7. Please PM me now with any merits, flaws, or traits that I should be aware of (nightmares, phobia, moon-bound, et al). Again, no need to tell me 'none'.
8. Setup post forthcoming!]
Erich Reinhardt[BELLY BUTTON THINGS = NOPE.]
a stabbing pain[P.S.
9. If you have a question, post it in the AIM chat. If you don't get an answer in a couple of minutes, please PM me here once.
10. If you think I forgot something, or you did on an earlier roll, say something. Ask if I remembered your +1 to whatever. If a roll was messed up, I can't promise we'll pause to work it out, but I'll try and compensate for it going forward.]
a stabbing painIt's cold in Civic Center Park tonight. It's a sharp snap from the 75-and-above the city has been enjoying along with their rediscovered Pumpkin Spice Lattes; there was snow in the foothills this morning. Tomorrow it will be warm again, dry again, and shockingly so, but this evening there's a cold, wet bite in the air. And in Civic Center Park, there are people on benches and against trees who are not only trying to stay hidden because trying to survive while homeless is criminal activity, but they are also trying to sleep despite the looming fear of winter. Tomorrow it will be warm, but tonight feels like a warning: every week from now on is going to get harder. Colder. The nights are getting longer, and so are the lines at the few shelters that -- for some reason -- keep getting shut down or driven away. Prime real estate, you know. If it weren't for the homeless.
There's been a group out here lately, though. Sort of an unofficial soup line. They pop up close to dusk with a folding table and hand out meals: sandwiches, mostly, with a can of some greenish-yellow citrus-pineapple energy drink. They aren't authorized, apparently, because they pop up and then disperse as fast as they can, moving to other locations around town where the homeless of Denver mill about. So far the police aren't really doing anything about it: as many of them that enjoy exerting power over the powerless, there are at least a few who really hate enforcing the camping ban or chasing off people who are just trying to feed some hungry souls. No one has considered that the unofficial, unathorized nature of the pop-up bread lines means that the food might not be good.
Almost no one.
It was some Cliath, some fresh-cut Guardian of Cold Crescent, who kept bothering the Warder about it. She did the Sorkin walk-and-talk with him all around the sept offices one day, saying that she'd been noticing on her patrols fewer homeless people sleeping in the parks and streets.
Fewer homeless people?
No. They're just not sleeping.
And her buddy Freddie, he doesn't have a place to live and he hates shelters because he says people steal his stuff, he really likes those drinks, the pineapply ones. The cans are real big, and they're always nice and cold and fizzy. Kinda sour but give you a great sugar rush. Lots of caffeine. Lets you stay awake longer than coffee, so it's not so hard. Lots of people he knows really like those drinks. And they always have 'em. Even when they run out of sandwiches, people have started staying in line for those drinks.
So? Caffeine's addictive.
Freddie said that Jeannie, who's always at the bus stop? He said she never cries anymore, and she used to just read old newspapers and rock on a bench and cry all the time. But he said she's not sleeping anymore at all. She doesn't cry or read the papers. Still rocks back and forth though. But never sleeps.
Do you have ANYTHING else to go on?
No, but... I have a really weird feeling about this.
And that's enough. They're all half spirit. Not just the Theurges. They all feel some pull, some awareness that tells them that water is bad, that meat is rotting, that den is haunted. So the Warder sent Kenzie out to investigate further, starting in City Park. He didn't spread the word. Some insomniac homeless people doesn't even sound supernatural, but Kenzie grew up in Cherry Hills Village. Kenzie hasn't learned yet how awful the world can be, how depression and anxiety and hunger and hopelessness can steal your sleep. How misery, for many, is simply the norm. It doesn't take the influence of the Wyrm for things to be bad.
But it helps.
--
It's after dark now. Well after. Downtown, the police are mostly milling around lower downtown -- the Lodo Letout, one of the most miserable times and places to be anyone but one of the people stumbling out of a closing bar or club. In Civic Center Park, it is relatively quiet. The moon shines. The capitol gleams. The flowers are still in bloom, because the chill has not destroyed them in a single day.
In the broad stone ampitheater with its columns and stepped sides, four of Denver's homeless stand gathered around something. There are no lights bright enough to illuminate it, and they are all standing, staring down, muttering to each other. One of them is a short, older woman with long grey hair and a ski cap with a puff on top. She is crying, rocking back and forth where she stands.
Matthew MurphyIt doesn't get this cold this fast back in North Carolina but he's not the only person wearing a ski cap and a winter-grade jacket outside tonight. Doesn't matter if it's going to be dry and sunny and beautiful tomorrow. Right now it feels like the ones going on about the Wyrm winning aren't that far off.
He is cutting through Civic Center Park well after dark in part because he's a fucking idiot and in part because he has to get from the bar on 12th Avenue where his shift just ended to the bus station on the other side of the park. It seemed like a good idea at the time he set out.
And then he passes the amphitheater. Wouldn't pay any mind to the small crowd normally but he hears someone weeping.
Shit. He slows down but doesn't call out just yet. It's probably none of his business.
Erich ReinhardtWell, when the Sept gets concerned a call goes out. Most of these assignments -- almost all of them, really -- are strictly volunteer. Tonight, Erich volunteers.
Tonight, Erich -- wearing his sherpa hoodie, fists stuffed into his pockets and shoulders slouched -- does his best homeless-bum shuffle as he cozies up to that little clot of people. Who knows what they're gathered around. Maybe a vat of that pineapply stuff. Erich intends to find out, though.
a stabbing painDenver's a weird place. There are people here who wear hoodies and flip-flops all winter. There are people who bust out the parkas in late August when it's not 90 anymore. But if you sleep outside as a matter of course, you wear what you have most of the year round.
Matthew isn't an idiot. Or maybe he is. We're not his dad. But people cut through Civic Center Park at all hours. Safer for men, but not strictly safe, period, even with a buddy. You never know, do you? The broad open expanse of the ampitheather is often enough to dissuade some kind of assault, but it's a decent walk from here to a more populated area. You can hear people on the 16th street mall still. But they can't hear you.
No one else is walking through tonight. So Matthew walks faster.
--
One more, then, ambling towards those people. Sees the shadows they cast. Sees --
a stabbing pain[Gonna let Kenna catch up and post in before going forward. Also: Perception + Primal Urge OR Perception + Alertness, whichever is higher!]
Matthew Murphy[perception + PU!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (7, 8, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 5 )
Erich Reinhardt[per+pu!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 6, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )
Goldie Lennox[Perception + Primal Urge]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 4, 8) ( success x 1 )
Goldie LennoxA part of adjusting to new surroundings is getting to know them. Studying them. Familiarizing. It was all a part of being a Ragabash. Goldie wasn't a brute, she didn't have the raw strength and rage and power that her Full Moon brethren had to contribute to battle. Goldie had to make use of these surroundings to her advantage, and so she got to know them.
This amphitheater seemed as good a place as any to get to know. She was a slinky stalky thing, she knew that Matthew's direct bus route existed through this area. If it was a place that he was going to be circulating around, she had a responsibility (ugh, that word still tasted awful in the back of her mouth) to make sure it was safe.
So that's why Goldie could be found strolling through the Civic Center Park. She was smoking what looked very much like a cigarette, so the red cherry marked her place in the evening gloom.
Oh, look at that. People. And one of them was a beacon of Stag-- this was evident even from halfway across the park. But then, she had also known Matthew long enough that she's more or less been sharing a house with him long before they even came out to Denver. She'd pulled in a lung full of air without smoke, to bellow to him, but paused when the foursome was spied in a group, circled around something. Something she wasn't so sure of. But it looked interesting, and one woman was in tears.
So, of course, Goldie jammed her hands in the pockets of the hoodie she was wearing, held her cigarette between her lips, and strolled on over like she's been living in Civic Center with the lot of them for the past three winters. Like it was her goddamn right to see what's up.
a stabbing pain[Erich: The four homeless people are standing around a body. There's a pair of sneakers pointed that way. And that darkness on the ground isn't just shadow. He can smell blood. He can smell Silver Fang breeding on the blood.
He can smell Kenzie's blood.]
Erich ReinhardtIt's not a vat of pineapply stuff. That would be bad, but it's not that. It's worse.
It's blood. It's a body.
It's a Silver Fang.
It's Kenzie.
--
Erich has something like backup in that crowd. He has two of Stag's, neither of whom he's met yet, but their very blood made them his allies. A wiser wolf would rally them to his side, or he to theirs. Erich, however, despite his somewhat-recently-elevated rank, is still not terribly wise.
He's righteous, though. He's pure of heart. And right now, he is suddenly very upset.
"HEY." He starts shoving his way through the clotted gathering. Puts his hands on shoulders, sides, faces, whatever he needs to. "HEY, GET OUT OF THE WAY. WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?"
Erich Reinhardt[retract and hold on post!]
a stabbing painIt is rarely a good thing when more than one of Gaia's chosen end up in the same place at the same time without planning it. Especially when the moon is just coming down from fullness. Especially when there's blood on the air.
And make no mistake, little Ragabash: you haven't smelt it yet, but there is blood on the air.
--
The three of them, two Fianna and a Shadow Lord, two Garou and a Kin, come through the ampitheater in a triangle. It seems like fate that they should be here like this, walking towards the center, walking towards a strange center indeed. This park is not far from the shadow of the sept. It is not out of the way.
The crying woman, who is very fat and very white and the one with the puff-ball on her ski cap, gives a great shudder and turns around. She is holding her hands to her wobbling jaw, cold hands against inflamed skin. Her eyes see more than the others. She sees Matthew. She gives a yelp.
"Cop! Cop! He's gonna -- we dinn't! We dinn't nothin'!"
She rushes him. But she is heavy and unhealthy and her rush is a stomping sort of thing, back and forth. Erich and Goldie see it clearly now: she is covered in blood. It mats her hair and coats her clothes. There are sneakers on the ground behind her, attached to feet, to legs. She's heading straight for Matt.
The others stare. She is holding a can of that drink in her hand. So are they all.
Erich ReinhardtIt's not a vat of pineapply stuff.
It's blood.
It's Silver Fang blood.
It's Kenzie's blood.
--
HEY, Erich wants to shout. He wants to, and he opens his mouth and he fills his lungs, but what comes out is a roar. He hits the grounds on four paws. One of these days, one of these days he'll remember to pull on that armor Luna gave him, but that day will not be today.
Today, like every other day, Erich charges heedless and reckless and roaring. He knocks someone sprawling. He sends someone flying. He goes straight for that crying woman, that creature white and bloated as a corpse, and as he nears his forepaws lift, his hindpaws shove off the ground -- he launches into the air, all bulk and muscle and fur and teeth.
Matthew MurphyIt doesn't take him long at all to figure out what happened. As much as he uses his eyes his gut tells him this is a murder scene he's just stumbled on and his gut is telling him he needs to not go over there. He can retreat to a safe distance and call the cops or call Goldie and tell her to get someone with claws and training in spirit cleansing down here.
The horror of the scene stops him though. He ought to just turn around right that second but he hesitates. Hesitation gives the crying woman enough time to notice him.
There isn't much to him. Even with the heavy jacket and the steel-toed boots he's wearing he is built like a beanpole. About all he's good for is turning and bolting. That doesn't mean he's not a cop though. Plenty of people who weigh less than some elementary school kids make decent cops.
"Whoa!" he says and takes his hands out of his pockets. Shows her his palms even as he starts to back up. "Whoa whoa whoa lady I'm not a cop, would you--"
And then there's a roar. That roar startles him and he looks over to see where the fuck it's coming from. By the time he looks over a huge black-furred monster is charging straight at the woman charging straight at him.
Great.
Goldie LennoxGoldie Lennox was easily overlooked. Her Rage did not make a buffer against the world around her. She wasn't drop-dead gorgeous. She wasn't noticeably tall or incredibly short or very ugly or anything else that would really set her apart. She was petite and lean and, tonight, covered up by sneakers and jeans and a loose (but not oversized, not baggy) brown hoodie with 'GAP' across the front in dayglow green letters. She had the hood up, so her hair wasn't noticed. Really all that stood out was the glow of her cigarette and how it reflected off big, wide, watchful brown eyes.
She'd seen sneakers on the ground initially. It took the woman's turning about, startled by the approach of three others around her, for Golide to recognize that those shoes were filled by a dead bloody body. When the woman turned, the ambient city light made apparent the red blood on her as well.
A drink in her hand-- but Goldie knew nothing about that, she wasn't patroling the Sept or listening around the watering hole just yet-- and panic and fight-or-flight existed on the overweight homeless lady like stink on... well, an overweight homless lady, one supposes as well. Goldie watched all of this, and her eyes widened when the woman picked Matt over the three of them, accused him of being a cop, and charged.
Muscles tensed, but before she could figure out how to react exactly a great deep roar, bassy and rattling in her bone marrow, ripped through the air, and so did a big black beast of a Werewolf soon after.
"Well," Goldie commented, "that escalated quickly...."
The big terrifying black beast was far more full of War and further ahead of her, closer to blocking the woman from Matt than she would be. So she instead flicked her eyes to the other three to see what they would do. All the while, she swelled and grew up to Glabro, and thankfully her clothes knew how to grow along with her.
a stabbing painFour homeless people getting through a cold night would be no match for a Garou -- even a young Cliath who grew up in the richest neighborhood in the state. And yet the young woman is on the ground, and she is bloody, and she looks very much dead. Her head is to one side, eyes staring, body motionless, limbs at odd angles, covered in huge injuries.
Erich sees a murder scene.
Matthew sees a murder scene.
Goldie sees a kinsman of her tribe on the verge of getting assaulted.
--
In an eyeblink, the Shadow Lord is in hispo, launching across what little distance remains between he and the group. And he hits that woman well before she gets to Matt, easily: he slams her to the brick and concrete ground, in a form whose density and weight far exceeds hers. Perhaps he rips her to pieces. But if he doesn't:
She is crying again. She never really stopped. Her energy drink goes rolling away, splattering yellow-green fluid.
The other three stare. They sip their drinks.
"You cops?" the tall black man says. "You cops, you gotta tell us."
Goldie LennoxErich knocked over the woman well before she had a chance to reach Matt. She didn't offer much resistance, as it turned out she wasn't going to burst through that doughy white skin as something else entirely and start trying to tear them all apart. Not yet, anyways.
Goldie smirked a satisfied little smirk that her plan to stand still and let someone else handle the work had gone so well. She puffed the cigarette one more time and switched her gaze to meet the eyes of the tall black man who'd spoken up. Who'd asked if they were cops. She raised her eyebrows at him, widened her eyes a little as well, then went "Huh," and took a few steps toward him. Not threateningly, even if she was now taller than average for a woman, broad, with strength built under that hoodie in her chest and arms and shoulders, even though her thighs pressed heavy steely muscle against denim with each step she took.
"No we don't, that's a fucking myth. Cops aren't required to tell you shit-- if that was the case, then 'undercover' wouldn't even be a thing anymore."
She exhaled smoke up into the air, then leaned down and picked up a foot so she could scrape the cigarette out on the bottom of her shoe. As she did this, she jerked her head toward Erich.
"What, that didn't make you shit your britches? You feeling alright?"
Erich ReinhardtWell, that huge hispo-beast, who is by the way not jet-black, not even close, but rather a timberwolf-grey dappled with black and white and shades of brown: he doesn't rip her to pieces. YET. He slams the woman down, he snarls in her face, he snaps his teeth and saliva flies in ropes. He wheels around. Three onlookers: sipping their drinks. Totally fucking blase.
So he wheels, one paw still on Miz BMI-40. He roars at them, too. And yes: for once, for once!, Erich begins to glow, to shine, to burn
with Luna's armor.
[WELL IF YOU'RE GONNA GIMME TIME TO ACTIVATE GIFTS, I'MA ROLL IT :D]
Dice: 10 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )
Matthew MurphyThe kinsman is still holding up his hands when the dire wolf tackles the crying woman. Temperature and humidity being what it is his breaths are visible as they steam out of his mouth.
He isn't about to keel over from fear-induced heart palpitations but he isn't a battle-hardened badass either. When Goldie speaks he scowls and looks over at her.
"Oh, yeah, now's a real good time for a criminal code lesson, Lennox, thank you."
So the two Fianna know each other. That's good information to have. He starts again when the dire wolf roars and frowns when he starts to glow.
Now that he's not in danger of getting torn to shreds he starts to consider whether tiptoeing on out of here and letting the werewolves handle it would be a good idea. He doesn't. He creeps around the unknown wolf and starts to approach the amphitheater palms still out to show the people inside he's not armed.
For all he knows they're Fomori and they're about to tear his fucking face off. That doesn't mean he can't try.
"We're not cops. Alright? But you look like you need some help."
a stabbing painThe group mulls what Goldie says over. One of them mutters that this is just what a cop would say. He has blood across his mouth and throat. Where he scratches his distended belly, he leaves flecks of drying blood from under cracked fingernails.
The woman with ragged teeth keeps shuddering. She keeps wincing, looking down against the light, holding her can with both hands to slurp from it. Smacks her lips.
Now there is a glowing direwolf in their midst, standing atop a buddy of theirs, and she cries the same way she always does over the newspaper. Why should that shock them? Why should the woman with the golden unibrow and the broad shoulders seem odd to them? The tall man cracks his back, wincing, arching as he tries and fails to roll his shoulders back; hurts too much.
"NAH," yells the woman with the gapped teeth. "WE FINE." Despite her obvious headache, she shouts everything. "WE FINE." She lifts her can to take another sip, but finds it empty. Her shuddering starts again. She reaches for the can held by the man with the backache. "GIMME THAT."
"Getcher own," he snaps at her, so sharp it may as well be a slap. She flails at the can. Then he does truly slap her, backhands her across the face,
roars at her. Spit flies from his mouth, green-tinged. She bares those huge teeth at him, her eyes open, her pupils down to pinpoints. Her eyes have no irises. She lunges at him, at the can he's holding. Her hat flies off. The back of her skull is too... too wide. Like it's
splitting open.
Goldie Lennox"Anytime, Matty, you're welcome." 'Lennox', as she had been called, flashed a wicked grin over to the Kinfolk who was moving around the roaring-glowing-gray-not-black Hispo. In her Glabro form her teeth seemed sharper, her canines filled her mouth more heavily than the rest of her teeth, so that wicked grin looked particularly so.
So the pair of unfamiliar Fianna knew each other. Perhaps they were siblings? No, couldn't be-- Matthew Murphy was a relic of royalty among them, his breeding was strong enough to worry about drawing in the wrong sort of attention from a mile's radius. Goldie Lennox had no breeding to speak of. It was impossible to guess her tribe just by looking and smelling. Plus they didn't really look all that much alike anyways-- Matt's features were more narrow, while Goldie's were wide and round.
Matt had approached to let them know that they're not cops, to ask about the kind of help that they might need. The trio that weren't pinned under the glowing wolf monster just mulled about. Goldie noted the blood in places on them-- in particular, she noticed the pushed out stomach on the man when he scratched. Wondered if that had anything to do with the body on the ground.
As she contemplated, a man and woman amongst the three began to fight. The woman was shouting (Goldie's brow creased some in reaction) for a can of drink (they all had them, didn't they?), and the man physically slapped her to keep her away when she grabbed for it.
Then the roaring. Then the massive teeth. A hat flies off and a woman's skull is actively splitting open.
Goldie blinked once, twice, then pushed her hoodie back and said loudly to Matthew: "This is your cue." To get back, of course. But he knew that already. Goldie instead focused on pushing herself one step further in her transformation-- from Glabro up to Crinos.
Matthew MurphyHe's old enough and descended from a long enough line of purebred pillars of the Nation that he knows his place is not in battle. Plenty of Kin do find their place there but that is not his place.
Without a gun or a knife or even a sharp stick nearby about all he can do is stay back and out of harm's way. Maybe phone in a couple of favors after this is all over. The two of them can pass into the Umbra and escape the scene of the bloodshed without notice. The best thing he can do is not get any blood on him. Look sufficiently freaked out by the time the cops roll up.
This is his cue.
"Uh huh," he says. He sounds freaked out but that's the adrenaline's fault. If he ends up having to run he's going to need the adrenaline and his arms down at his sides. No point holding his palms up anymore.
He takes several big steps back to put the dire wolf back between him and the crowd.
Erich ReinhardtYeah no. They not fine. They most certainly, absolutely, incontrovertibly not fine.
Erich has seen enough. Really, were he a wiser wolf, he'd just step back and let those crazies rip each other up over a few cans of crazy juice. He's not a wiser wolf, though. He's just an Erich. And Erichs, faced with this sort of wrongness, this sort of absolute abomination-ness, know only one recourse.
He bares his teeth. He lunges. He tears into whoever the hell, whatever the hell, what the hell is that anyway, that's closest. Time to fight.
a stabbing painFrom the woman's skull there are several things worming their way out. Thick, heavy things. Tentacle things, yellow-gray ones, dripping a gelatinous slime that stretches from one side of the splitting skull to the other. The man she's facing, the man with the aching back, is reaching behind himself as he roars at her, grabbing something under his coat, like he's picking a wedgie.
He is not. He is jerking something out from his lower back, grunting, arching so hard his heels leave the ground, grabbing.
Blood and some strange strange, clear fluid splashes out from under his coat to the concrete. That's a whole other smell. Not one they're familiar with. His hand leaves the hem of his coat and begins pulling something out. It's long, and ridged, and made of link after link of hard bone. Flesh clings to it in places. He is pulling his spine out. He is ripping his own spine out. And his torso flops forward but somehow, impossibly -- inhumanly -- he can still move. He lurches, like a gorilla made of empty burlap, and moves his spine like a heavy whip across the ground. He charges his enemy, who has six or seven vomit-colored tentacles protruding from her skull. Each of them, where they might have sucking cups if they were natural, have rows upon rows of tiny barbs.
The man with the belly just belches, staring absently. He nudges the body on the ground with his toe.
Jeannie, the woman pinned by Erich, just sobs and wails and tries, vainly, to reach her rolled-away can of energy drink. It's past her fingertips and she can't get up. She keeps grunting: "Geroff. GerOFF," but he won't, of course. She howls, shrieking, as her jaw
unhinges.
My, what big teeth you have, grandmother.
Razor-sharp teeth, each several inches long, open up from behind her normal human-looking ones. She looks more and more like a piranha, with her bulging eyes, her enormous mouth that could, in a second more, engulf most of Erich's head.
a stabbing pain[Jacqui: I would catch up or get the gist from another player and then post in ASAP, because after another (brief! and i mean brief!) round of IC posts, we are going to inits!]
Erich ReinhardtWELL THAT WAS UNEXPECTED.
Suddenly caught, suddenly swallowed-headed, Erich backpedals -- claws digging long gouges into asphalt, concrete, flesh, whatever -- and thrashes and bucks and kicks and finally, finally
just decides to open his jaws the best he can while inside someone's fucking face. He bites whatever the fuck he can reach. Because beggars can't be choosers. And swallowed Erich-wolves can't be picky.
Goldie Lennox"Ho-lee fuckkk...."
Suddenly this amphitheater was full of monsters. Monsters with unhinging jaws. With big teeth and tentacles flailing out of their skulls. With their upper half flopping useless because the core piece, the spine, was now serving as a fucking whip and dragging across the ground.
With a big gray wolf monster that glowed like the moon's brightest light.
With a big girl with too much muscle whose face was pushing out into a muzzle, whose clothes were quickly replaced by a pelt of fur. Goldie was horrified by what she saw-- she was a Cliath, she had seen some fights, but she certainly hadn't seen any of this before. Her expression was one of mingled disgust and horror before her eyebrows vanished and a muzzle began to grow-- any ability to make human expression was dashed then.
Soon enough she was a Crinos, a lean-bodied and long-limbed thing with gold-red-brown fur and a pale underbelly, with a particularly dark muzzle and hand-and-feet-paws. With a short snout but plenty of teeth to fill it, and that's what mattered, wasn't it?
Matthew was backing up, and Erich was digging into the woman he already had pinned down. Goldie, in the meantime, stood stiff and still with a snarl and watched and waited. Let the two that were fighting each other continue to fight each other. Let them tear each other apart so she'd have one less enemy to have to kill herself.
Let them fight.
Firebrand(Ahem. Sorry all. My wifi is having mood swings. I'ma observe ya'll being awesome til it gets a hold of itself.)
Matthew MurphyWhatever quality he carries with him day to day that lets him stand in the presence of full moons furious enough to send most people across the street doesn't do him much good when it comes to watching a grown man start to pull something out of his back.
To his credit Matthew doesn't vomit. He does stop his backpedaling though. If he's seen anything more awful than that in his entire life it's been long enough ago that his brain can't quite compute what it is he's seeing. Other people's spines getting ripped out is one thing.
He doesn't even have a quip or the breath to take some god or bodily function's name in vain.
The crunching sound from the dire wolf biting something inside the woman's hell-huge mouth startles him out of his catatonia. And then he registers the whipping tentacles. He takes another step away.
a stabbing pain[INITS]
Erich Reinhardt[an obscene +19]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (3) ( fail )
Goldie Lennox[Inits! Dex 4 + Wits 4 + ?]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (3) ( fail )
Matthew Murphy[a mighty +5!]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (6) ( success x 1 )
a stabbing pain[all the baddies are Init + 5]
a stabbing pain[Sciatica +5]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (10) ( success x 1 )
a stabbing pain[Headache +5]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (1) ( fail )
a stabbing pain[Toothache +5]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (7) ( success x 1 )
a stabbing pain[Bellyache +5]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (2) ( fail )
a stabbing pain[Round One
Erich
Sciatica
Toothache
Goldie
Matthew
Bellyache
Headache]
a stabbing pain[Headache
1a. Grab Sciatica with one of her tentacles
1b. Throw him around a little]
a stabbing pain[Bellyache
Still convinced Matt is a cop.
1. Moves towards Matt, scratching his belly furiously and drinking whatever that goop is. Real pineapple flavor!]
Matthew MurphyFuck that.
action: run!
Goldie Lennox[Well that guy's probably a monster and he's going after Matt and Ma's going to be REAL mad at me if he dies, so....Action: Claw Bellyacher!]
a stabbing pain[Toothache
1. Crunch down on Erich's muzzle.]
a stabbing pain[Sciatica
1a. Does not care about the Garou yet. Spinal whip at Headache!
1b. Again!]
Erich Reinhardt[2R - also 1WP to resist pain.
1a. dig claws into whatever!
b. BITE WHATEVER!
R1. MOAR BITING.
R2. MOAR CLAWING.]
Erich Reinhardt[attack!]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 10, 10) ( success x 2 ) Re-rolls: 2
Erich Reinhardt[BULLSHIT]
Dice: 9 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 4 )
a stabbing pain[Toothache
Soak!]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 2, 4, 4, 6) ( success x 1 )
Erich Reinhardt[come on, stop being pathetic!]
Dice: 7 d10 TN5 (3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 7 ) Re-rolls: 2
Erich Reinhardt[:D]
Dice: 15 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10) ( success x 9 )
Erich Reinhardt[I'M IN YOUR MOUF SHARDING YOUR PURPLZ +1dam]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (4) ( fail )
a stabbing pain[um. soak?]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 4, 5, 6, 8) ( success x 2 )
a stabbing painToothache: x_x
a stabbing pain[Sciatica
1a. Spinal whip!]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 5, 6, 6, 8, 8, 9) ( success x 5 )
a stabbing pain[Damage]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 1, 3, 4, 6, 7, 10) ( success x 3 )
a stabbing pain[Headache
Soak!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 5, 6, 10) ( success x 2 )
a stabbing pain[Sciatica
1b. Again!]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 3, 3, 4, 7, 7) ( success x 2 )
a stabbing pain[Damage]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 5, 5, 8, 9) ( success x 2 )
a stabbing pain[Headache
Soak!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (4, 5, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )
a stabbing painErich is the quickest to react, but then, he almost has no choice. He was the first one to flip out into a form other than human, lunging at something because there's a guardian dead on the ground. Then his head ended up inside the mouth of a human angler fish, and he dug his claws into her body as deep as he could through all the fat he encountered. Fluid -- not just blood, but something yellowish, greenish, clear, tinged murky with blood -- rushed out of her over his paws, but his weaponry found purchase and she howled.
He was inside her mouth, half-blind, smelling something like citrus and something like bile, when he bit at her blindly. First his teeth sank into her engorged tongue. Then he pulled his head up, pulled her tongue with it, but her tongue didn't detach from inside her mouth. Erich was thrashing too quickly,
tearing her head somewhat in half. Tearing her head inside-out, almost.
Charming.
--
To the side, near Kenzie's motionless form, the spineless man rushes at the tentacle'd woman, roaring at her, thrashing at her with it. Whips once and bone-barbs on his spine grab at her shoulder and yank. A second whip of his own body part does nothing, glancing off her blood-stiffed clothing. She just shrieks at him.
Matthew MurphyIT'S GOLDIE TIME
claw!
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 4, 9, 10) ( success x 2 )
Matthew Murphydamage: MATH!
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 2, 3, 6, 7, 7, 10) ( success x 4 )
a stabbing pain[Bellyache
Soak!]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 3, 8) ( success x 1 )
a stabbing pain[Matt runs see Matt you're clearly not an idiot we all believe in you.]
a stabbing painShambling, grunting, the man with the rounded, pregnancy-style belly sticking out from under his shirt -- which features Frankenfruity -- runs after Matt. Jogs. Bounces. Looks like he's going to throw up, actually. He stops halfway because some of his energy drink has sloshed out of the can, so he pauses to slurp it up before running after Matt again.
Then there's a mass of fur, a wall of terror, and it slashes claws the size of his whole hand across his body.
Four clean gashes across that rotund belly. Bleeding, bleeding gashes. Deep red blood, black even in moonlight, seeping out of him,
taking form,
a darker version of the tentacles on the other woman's skull. He groans, touching his own belly, the flows of blood taking shape under his hands, worming around his fingers, reaching outward. He sobs: "Oh my fuckin' god. Oh god. Oh my fuckin' god. Oh god,"
and, shaking in panic, upends as much of the rest of that drink as he can. To calm the nerves, see.
a stabbing pain[Headache
1a. Grab!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 7, 8) ( success x 2 )
a stabbing pain[Headache
1b. Throw!]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (3, 3, 7, 9) ( success x 2 )
a stabbing pain[Damage]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 4, 5, 8, 8) ( success x 2 )
a stabbing pain[Sciatica
Soak!]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (4, 5, 5, 5, 7, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )
a stabbing painOver to the side, the tentacled woman lashes out with one of them to grab her former friend around the neck. Barbs sink into his skin, but not deeply. She shakes him in the air, lifting him, but he's shockingly heavy, and then she throws him aside. He doesn't go too far, smashing to the ground, but it has little effect on a man whose bones are not like a human's: he shambles to his feet again, bent at the middle, hissing.
He has, after all, dropped his drink now. Not his spine, though. He charges her again. She is scrambling to grab the can of spinning, spilling EnerJam.
a stabbing pain[End of Round Two:
Erich: Fine
Sciatica: Fine
Toothache: X_X (3A overkill)
Goldie: Fine
Matt: RUNNINNNNN'
Bellyache: 3A (thanks Goldie thanks a lot)
Headache: Slightly hurt]
a stabbing pain[RAGE ROUND ONE GO ERICH]
Erich Reinhardtr1 bite!
Dice: 10 d10 TN5 (1, 1, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 5 ) Re-rolls: 1
Erich Reinhardt[REALLY, DICE?]
Dice: 13 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 3, 3, 6, 6, 7, 7, 7, 7, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 9 )
a stabbing pain[Headache
Soak!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 3, 7) ( success x 1 )
Erich Reinhardt[claw same target! or sciatica if dead.]
Dice: 10 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 8, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 5 ) Re-rolls: 1
Erich Reinhardt[dam]
Dice: 12 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 5, 5, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10) ( success x 8 )
a stabbing pain[Sciatica
Soak!]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 7) ( success x 1 )
a stabbing pain[End of Round One:
Erich: Fine, and way too pleased with himself.
Sciatica: 7A X_X
Toothache: 10A X_X
Goldie: Fine and taking care of her own shit tyvm
Matt: BEING A SMART GODDAMNED KINFOLK
Bellyache: 3A, thanks again Goldie you're a pal
Headache: 9A X_X]
Goldie LennoxDuty was something that Goldie was still beginning to comprehend. Keeping a Kinfolk alive was a simple enough task though, wasn't it? That was straight forward, point A to point B. Maybe that's why this was a good lesson to introduce the Ragabash to the concept of Responsibility.
That's why it was easy to let the other two monsters grotesquely fight it out over the fallen body of a dead girl (she didn't know that was a Garou, a Guardian, someone that Erich had probably seen in the hall a few days earlier). That's why it was easy to let the big fuck-off gray Wolf do his job (and he was doing it so well!).
That's why it was easy to spy that the man with the bloated gut was going after Matthew-- Matthew without claws and fangs and bullets and blades. Goldie, now a physical representation of the name she was given at birth, sprung forward claws first. And of course she had to tear open that belly-- naturally, she needed to see what was inside making all of that bulge and scratch and rumble.
She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but to see what looked like liquid blood shadow come pouring out and begin taking shape-- tentacles, wrapping around fingers and twisting-grasping-feeling into the air. Dark brown eyes that carried their way across all of her forms observed the horror unfurl, but more the man's pleas of 'Oh god' tore her attention from guts to face.
"You poor bastard." That's what Erich would hear and comprehend if his own ears weren't full of the sound of clashing teeth and crunching bone and tearing sinew. All that anyone else heard was a wet rasping snarl. "I'll save you."
And she wound up for another blow.
a stabbing pain[Round Two!
Erich
Goldie
Matt
Bellyache]
a stabbing pain[Bellyache
1a. Something really gross
1b. Again
1c. Yup]
Matthew MurphyIgnore the fact that his blood would sing even to those who don't understand the words. 'Matty' is not a big damned hero. He isn't even a little bit of a hero. About the best he can do for the cause is stay alive so he can maybe one day do something useful.
In the meantime that bloat-bellied man comes towards him and after his eyes go wide he turns around and sprints not completely away but at least as far as one of the amphitheater's pillars. Puts him out of the line of fire a bit.
He wants puke on him even less than he wants blood on him.
Goldie Lennox[ CALLED SHOT SPENDING WP -- Rip that throat out, yo ]
Erich ReinhardtAll he hears is crunching bone. All he tastes is blood. Blood and that awful, awful, cloying taste of whatever the hell it is they were all drinking, fuck, what the fuck was it? In quick sequence he's dispatched one-two-three of them but: still that taste, still that stench, and now,
now the last.
Erich wheels: paws bloody, jaw dripping. Ears flat, eyes glaring. Fur all abristle. He wheels and he snarls and then he lunges, heedless, nevermind whatever it was the bigbellied one intended to do. He knows what he intends to do:
tear it to pieces.
[2R again!
1a,b,R1,R2: LOTS OF BITING CUZ CREATIVE.]
Erich Reinhardt1a. CHOMP.
Dice: 8 d10 TN5 (2, 3, 5, 6, 6, 8, 8, 8, 10, 10) ( success x 8 ) Re-rolls: 2
Erich Reinhardt[dam]
Dice: 16 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 4, 4, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 7 )
a stabbing pain[Bellyache
Soak! HEH. HEH HEH HEH.]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 7, 10) ( success x 2 )
Erich Reinhardtb!
Dice: 7 d10 TN5 (3, 4, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 6 ) Re-rolls: 1
Erich Reinhardt[dam]
Dice: 14 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 2, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 7, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 8 )
a stabbing painGoldie raises her arm to rip that poor soul open, end it for him. So far, none of the others have risen. Not even Kenzie. Kenzie, who Erich barely knew peripherally and Goldie never met, and only knows that some of what she's been smelling tonight is the fading, cooling purity of a Silver Fang.
Goldie is going to be compassionate. And like most Garou, that compassion can only come through violence. That compassion is always going to be tinged red with rage, stained red with blood.
The man with the Frankenfruity t-shirt throws down his EnerJam now that its empty, and the tentacles in his stomach protruding towards her take on a stiffened, sharpened shape, as though they could become spikes, as though they will shoot forward and --
Something else is birthed through the torso of the last standing homeless man. It's a head, and a face, but not a human face. Closer to a crinos face, but more elongated, like a wolf's. Too large though. She doesn't recognize the fur, because it is saturated --
saturated --
with blood. Blood that is black and blood that still moves slightly, worming over Erich's features even as the host dies. Blood that drips from him, it runs so thick, so hot, trying to sting his eyeballs. Viscera clings to his lower jaw as he rips his teeth into the man's back, through his body, out through his chest.
What is left of the man's form weakens, slumps. The tentacles that were becoming spikes and had once been shadows just collapse in midair, as though instantly melted back to blood. They drop, splashing on the ground, all over Goldie as well. The wiggling droplets through Erich's fur stop moving of their own accord, their host and the dark magic that was in him collapsing as well, becoming nothing more than terrible, foul-smelling fluid.
The body slides off of Erich's muzzle to flop, wetly, between he and the Cliath.
The ampitheater is suddenly very quiet, but for the sound of Matt's boots hitting the concrete, thwacking rhythmically as he runs.
Goldie LennoxGoldie had raised one arm up to strike the man down and put him out of his misery. There was no saving him that also coincided with keeping his life-- his belly was open, and even if they did exercise the Bane that had latched onto his soul his body would never survive the ordeal. She was lining up a shot, gauging an angle and figuring how she should swing from the shoulder and rotate her wrist to be able to simply snatch that man's windpipe away from his throat.
Blood tentacles were hardening and jutting outward, going from flailing and curling to stiffening and aiming. Perhaps they would shoot forward to impale her? She was torn between continuing the swing and making a leap back to save her own belly when all of those concerns were taken away by a splash of dark red blood across her short snout and very fuzzy chest.
Dark eyes blinked in confusion as they tried to comprehend the massive wolf head that took the place of the man's chest and ribcage. She met Erich's eyes and for a moment her gaze burned. Her Rage was not substantial, it was certainly nothing to match his own, but the moon was still quite close to full and she had spent none of her Rage, had burned none of it through battle while Erich was happily blowing through his like a child through a package of Skittles. For a second the eye contact was electric, wound tight and full of the potential for so much more violence.
But then she simply huffed and the hand that had been lifted to strike instead dropped down to wipe the blood from her face as best she could and flick it toward the ground. She took a step back, slipped down from Crinos to Glabro (she would still need muscles to move bodies no doubt), and turned her head to and fro to hunt for Matt.
The bellow that she called out across the park was deeper and louder than any sound she'd made in Crinos, but then she hadn't been roaring had she?
"MATTHEEEWWW!"
Matthew MurphyYeah that's great Goldie yell his name super loud so everyone within earshot can hear it that's going to do wonders for his anonymous bystander case.
"Jesus Christ, I'm over here, stop fucking yelling!"
He doesn't tell her to shut the fuck up in front of another Garou but she's heard him yell at his older brother enough times to note it in his tone.
Erich ReinhardtAnd....
splat.
That's the last noise ricocheting through Erich's ears. Before that: the wet squelch of flesh, the snap of bone, the pop of organs, viscerae, entrails, blood. But now, just splat. Splat, something lands on its face. Used to be human. Not anymore.
Then just his breath heaving through his lungs.
Then just his pulse thundering in his ears.
Then -- then -- then, gradually the shouting, the beat of footsteps away, the rattlerattlerattle of a can of that crap rolling empty on the pavement.
A low sound somewhere between growl and groan. Erich sinks down onto his haunches, onto his belly. He crouches amidst the wreckage, the devastation, the bodies. He noses ... what is that? Meat. He lays his muzzles over the dead body of the Silver Fang. He whuffs, he gives his tail one heavy thump. And for a while, he just
stays there.
Goldie LennoxMatthew hit her with that 'Shut the fuck up' tone, but it didn't hurt her feelings any. His voice brought her eyes in his direction, and when she saw that he was a good distance away and utterly untouched, she was content. Whether he was walking back over to join them or not was, for the moment, unimportant. She could understand why he may want to keep his distance. Her own nose -- longer, sharper, more turned up at the end to more closely resemble a snout-- wrinkled at its bridge just to look at the mass of what was best described as a shell near her sneakers. Blood had splashed them too, of course. She still stepped back to avoid having them flooded with the forming pool of blood on the ground.
The big gray wolf, perhaps still glowing, was over by the fallen body. He'd laid down, nosed it, and then simply stayed put. Goldie hesitated, but only momentarily, before walking over to the massive wolf's side. She could have laid a hand on his flank without bending, but instead she wiped the blood from the fingers of her right hand on her pant leg and jammed her hands into her pockets.
"Hey."
That was a great introduction, Goldie. Spot on. You're doing people proud with this charisma.
"So, uh, I don't know who that was. But I think we should probably get the fuck out of here before people start showing up." A pause, a consideration, and then she offered: "Should we bring her with?" Clearly in question to the fallen girl's body, the cooling flesh that once claimed True Royalty.
a stabbing painThe Guardian is on the ground. She's in homid, no older than 19. Her hair was red -- dyed that way, almost orange -- with bright blonde highlights. Pixie nose. Slender body.
Her hand is clutched around a can of EnerJam. Her body is split open, throat to bowels, in several places. Some of them look like giant cigarette burns. Even in cold, rigid death, her hand clutches tight to that can.
Matthew MurphyIt takes him a bit longer than the Garou to figure out that the fight is over. That they've won. From where he was standing he could count the number of Wretched and he could count the number of bodies but it's different for an observer than it is for one in the midst of it. All he could do to keep from adding another Gaian body to the pile was run the hell away.
Once several seconds pass without the sound of teeth tearing flesh or fluid splattering on concrete Matthew who has his back to the pillar now that he's behind it leans out slow just enough that he can see what's going on. Steam rolling out of his mouth lets Goldie know he's still alive if the fact that he still had a voice did not do it.
He reaches into the inner pocket of his coat and finds his cellphone. It's a burner. He doesn't remove it yet but to touch it is a reminder that it's there. He swings around the pillar and starts to walk back towards the scene of the carnage. Walks slow like he's coming upon it for the first time.
He doesn't speak. His bootsteps give him away.
Erich ReinhardtSome time passes.
Then Erich lifts his head. He looks around. Folds a forepaw under, sinks onto the side of his haunches. Blood and ichor drips from his jaws. He gives his head a loose, slow shake. Then he looks up at Goldie.
"Don't know. Can't tell if she drank that or if she was trying to keep someone else from drinking it."
Pause.
"Maybe we need to leave her here."
Goldie Lennox"Then we'll leave her," Goldie agreed with a nod. With the knowledge that she wasn't going to be hauling any bodies tonight, Goldies' body shrank down even further, significantly more, until she was in Homid again. She was a petite girl to begin with, lean-limbed and less than five-and-a-half feet tall, but she seemed all the smaller when standing beside Erich's Hispo.
He wasn't sure if she'd been drinking the drink or preventing the others from imbibing. With her hood down, Goldie's wavy sand-colored hair was let loose and hanged down past her shoulders to rest in front of them. Her face wasn't naturally freckled, but speckles of blood made it seem so. She made a 'Hmmm' noise of thought while looking at the body of the girl, at the can of EnerJam in her hand, and deciding whether she'd been consuming the stuff or not. Ultimately, she shrugged and concluded: "Well if she'd been drinking it like these guys were, she probably wouldn't look as normal as she does. Y'know...," she added with a cringe, because there was nothing normal about how torn up she was. "Considering the circumstances."
Those giant circular burn marks, though, they had Goldie feeling a little weak and sick. She didn't get to learn what those blood-shadow-tentacle-spikes did, but now she had an inkling to ponder.
Boots thumped faint on the concrete, and Goldie glanced over her shoulder to see that Matt was approaching. Usually she'd smile something only slightly wicked at him and raise a hand to hail him, but this time she simply pressed her lips together in a grim kind of expression toward the Kinsman before looking back to the giant borderline-wallowing wolf.
"So, I don't mean to tell you what to do or anything because Gaia knows that isn't my place, but maybe you should... ah... become a little less obvious." A hand left her pocket so she could jerk a thumb over her shoulder, and she raised her eyebrows at Erich who was still a Hispo, still on the ground, still not getting the fuck out of there. "And then we can jam." Get it? EnerJam? "On out of here. Like, before sirens and men with nightsticks come."
Matthew MurphyIf a shred of life still lingered in the girl or if he knew she had been Garou once before the band of Wretched had at her he would have raised a voice of protest. But he doesn't know. He does not have psychic powers and he cannot tell the corpse of a Garou from the corpse of a teenage girl.
She's younger than his kid sister. That doesn't mean his gaze doesn't linger on the body for several seconds before he blinks his way back into the conversation.
Matt adjusts the way the ski cap sits on his head and scowls at Goldie's pun. Too soon, girl. The scowl lingers as he fishes out his phone.
"You need me to...?"
The question aimed at Goldie and she knows what he means. He can run damage control. Cops fucking love 911 calls and eyewitness statements from concerned citizens who just happened to stumble on a load of bodies on their way home from work.
Erich ReinhardtErich whuffs. He lies there a little longer.
Then, heavily, he pushes himself up. Shakes his fur out again. Turns; takes one two three steps away.
Turns back. Puts a paw on Kenzie, which turns into a handpaw, which turns into a grab: he picks the body up -- wounds and all, can and all -- and slings it over his shoulder.
"Changed my mind," he explains unnecessarily. "Let's go. We'll Cleanse back at the Sept."
Goldie Lennox"Uhhhh," is all that Goldie has to say at first. The man that she was trying to convince to go back to being a man instead of being a giant wolf had instead turned into a different kind of giant wolf and was now carrying the corpse of what she could only assume to be The Victim over his shoulder.
He wanted to lead them back to the Sept to be cleansed. Goldie stared somewhat slack-jawed for a second, then snapped her teeth and lips closed and looked back to Matthew again. He had his phone out, was asking if he should, and the 'should' was apparent. Goldie thought about it for a second, then looked around before shaking her head.
"That's sweet of you, Murphy. You're a class A chum, really. But I think we should follow this guy-- the cleansing sounds more important than the witness call, don't you think?"
She smiled sweetly, and the corners of her eyes even did a fine job of bunching up with the expression, but of course she was still twisting in the stomach and jittering in the nerves and boiling in the Rage, but she still put on that smile and even went so far as to hook an arm out to offer the Kinsman her elbow.
"Come on, or we're gonna miss our guide."
Matthew MurphyHe opens his mouth to ask why the fuck he'd need to be there for the cleansing but as he's drawing the breath to ask he looks at the Ragabash and sees something in her face that makes him let the breath back out without catching any words.
From a distance it sounds like a sigh.
"Whatever you say, Boss."
He puts the phone back in his pocket. If she thinks he's going to take her elbow she's drunk and needs to go home.
"I'm comin', I'm comin'."
