[Nate Cross] Nate just stand and waits for the response, so newly back in town is he that he hasn't even had the chance to present himself before the Sept or to make his offering. He was hoping to avoid causing an inter-tribal dispute till at least his second week in town.

"Well what should I call you then rhya. I didn't get any other name from either you or Lee."

"Also if you don't mind...and I'm not intruding. I've actually a couple of questions that I hope you can answer for me."

[Hatchet] The Fianna leans back on his bed, resting shoulderblades to the wall. His feet are still flat on the ground; it's a narrow bed. Everything about him is oddly striking; there's an alien angularity to his jawline that's masked by his beard, softened by it even as it ages him past his years. He is young, by mortal standards. He is not even twenty-five. He may not see twenty-five. Few enough of them will.

"Buried Hatchet," he begins, "Fostern Philodox of the Fianna, Alpha of the Sentinels under Bear."

Rhya Nate picked up just by watching him. Fianna he knew because of Taggart's obvious attachment to Lee. But Ahroun, he might have guessed. Galliard, maybe, even. But Half-Moon. Philodox. Those who are to bring balance and leadership, guidance, and --

-- okay, with all the lecturing, maybe Nate won't be so surprised at that.

"Or you can keep calling me rhya. That works, too." A beat. "What else is on your mind?"

[Daniel Ingenssen] (barging in! don't wait on me, i'm multitasking.)

[Hatchet] [Also: 30 min warning! Time to 5-min panic post, folks! :D ]

[Nate Cross] As for surprise Nate showed some...although Buried Hatched had recited one of the tenets of the litany it wasn't much to go on . So when the Fianna announces his full title, one of Nate's eyebrows raises quizzically.. as if he was going ~really?~

"Philodox? interesting... I wouldn't have guessed or if I had it looks like I would've been wrong."

"Guess rhya will work for now... well until I get to know you better. As for my questions... I was hoping you'd be able to guide me toward the Sept.. so I can make my offering and all that. As for my second it's kinda related, while I was born and raised in Chicago.. after my first change my rite of passage was done elsewhere. So I find myself in this city a lone wolf, I was wondering if you knew anyone I could speak too about prospective packs ?"

[Daniel Ingenssen] Permission to enter Hatchet's room, the one part of this building -- and perhaps of the world -- that can be rightly considered Hatchet's domain and Hatchet's alone, is sought wordlessly across the totemlink.

When Daniel appears, it's with a faint by noticeable popping in each of their ears as air rushes rapidly outward from the space that the Forseti simply materializes in. Daniel's spirit is grown strong from his solitude in the northern wilderness; strong as that of some Theurges. Stronger. His rage is strong too: like that of an Ahroun. He's quiet, lightfooted, quick and perceptive as a Ragabash.

But he's a Half-Moon in the end, like Hatchet. The Sentinels are anything but typical.

The Forseti's heritage is entirely in his face. There isn't a shred of pure breeding in him. His ancestors were good Garou, decent, dutiful Garou, but not heroes. He takes up a spot at the windowsill, folding his arms across his chest, and watches.

[Hatchet] Nate's mild surprise at his auspice doesn't get Hatchet's ire going. His eyes flicker with brief irritation, but he doesn't rise up and clock the Gnawer over the head. He just remains where he is, leaning back on his bed. He lifts a finger and points at one of his four walls. He's pointing, ultimately, in the direction of the lake. The docks.

"That-a-way. And if you can't find a caern that isn't under the Rite of the Shrouded Glen, you're hopeless."

He says it dismissively, and without rancor. And then he looks thoughtful. "Well... as far as I know there are no packs in the city that will turn down an acceptable recruit that would fit in their numbers. I know that the Unbroken -- they're led by Lukas Wyrmbreaker, Fostern Lord Ahroun, and their totem is a Shadow Lord storm god of some kind -- already have one Galliard and may be courting another. I know that La Familia --"

There's a pause. A flick of his eyes in the direction of his doors. Permission is being granted. Wordlessly, a nudge of two muzzles near one another, a sense of welcome. He goes right back into speaking.

"-- who follow Black Unicorn, has no Galliard. At least, not so far as I know."

His packmate appears silently inside the room, and Hatchet doesn't so much as bat an eyelash. "Word on the Street, this is my packmate, Broken Hammer, a Cliath Forseti. Daniel, this is Nate, Gnawer Galliard of your rank."

The Fianna continues. "There're the Eagles, one of the oldest packs around -- Gaia only knows who is in charge right now, their Alpha's a Modi off on his Athro challenge and could probably eat you for an afternoon snack. Not sure if you missed the part tonight where Rory Tongue-Twister told us that her Alpha just died, they follow Alley Cat... there's a Lord pack under Fox that seems to have dwindled to a single Garou, a pack under Wireless Bat that almost no one ever hears from, and I think there's some Garou running together under Wasp."

A beat. "Then there's us. Daniel here, myself, Echo -- you may have missed her disagreement with her lovely kinsman in the common room, but she's a Fostern Walker Ragabash -- and Joey, my Rotagar."

There's an absence there. A void somewhere in those words. He doesn't explain it. "Ultimately, Nate, you just have to make the rounds. See where you fit. See who will take you and decide for yourself if it's where you want to be, who you want to be with."

[Daniel Ingenssen] Daniel's eyes are not clear and pale, though that's what one might expect of a man like him. Grey or blue would fit in those deep eye orbits, under that slanting, distinctively nordic brow. Those are the colors and the clarities that would fit with his face, his tribe, the marrow of his bones, but his eyes are in fact dark. They're nearly black, and very, very perceptive. He looks at Nate carefully and consideringly.

He says only, "Word on the Street-yuf." It's at once greeting and acknowledgment.

[Nate Cross] "Well thanks for the directions... I'll head down that way tomorrow." his doesn't react to the potential insult, inwardly he just takes it as something to prove

"As for making the rounds, normally my life is spent on the pavement practicing my art. They only go in two directions forwards and back... and if you go forward there is always the thing that is right in front of you. So..." he shrugs again.. "I was wondering maybe if I could run with your pack at least for awhile. See if it's the place for me. If not .. then no harm and nothing lost and I can move on. "

"If you'd rather I scout around first , then I can do that also. Just don't want to show you any dis-honor by not asking you first."

He then turns to the new presence in the room "Evening Daniel" a small nod of greeting , not able to resist being drawn into those black wells that are his eyes. Moments later pulling his gaze away.

[Hatchet] [This is what I'm about to post, halfway through. Because halfway through is when he addresses Daniel over totemphone:]

Most of what Nate says about pavement and art, like his earlier comment about painting, goes unremarked upon. Hatchet crosses his arms over his chest, his brows pulling together in nothing short of bewilderment.

"Up until about 3 minutes ago you didn't know my name. You're in here so I could yell at you for encroaching on my territory. And now you want to run with my pack." A beat, a shake of his head.

[INSERT TOTEMPHONE HEER]
What do you think?
to Daniel Ingenssen

[Daniel Ingenssen] I think he's young. Inexperienced. Probably an idealist. But a good man, probably. A good wolf. More honorable than I would expect from one of Rat's. He won't disgrace us willingly. He will need guidance.

I like him, Alpha. I think we should let him run with us for a while. But he should know that to follow Bear is to live a humble life. If his honor is important to him, he may not find that here.
to Hatchet

[Hatchet] Inexperienced and in need of guidance? What is he, tailor-made for us?
to Daniel Ingenssen

[Daniel Ingenssen] There's a general sense of confusion. Daniel doesn't get the joke.
to Hatchet

[Hatchet] Most of what Nate says about pavement and art, like his earlier comment about painting, goes unremarked upon. Hatchet crosses his arms over his chest, his brows pulling together in nothing short of bewilderment.

"Up until about 3 minutes ago you didn't know my name. You're in here so I could yell at you for encroaching on my territory. And now you want to run with my pack." A beat, a shake of his head.

There's a few seconds of silence. It's clear he's not done speaking, as he stares at Nate in consideration. Then he exhales a breath, reaching up to scratch idly at his cheek. His hand drops back to his lap. "I'll tell you what I told Daniel when he first showed up: I'm a charach, Echo at least acts as unstable as a madwoman, Joey's showed an utter lack of wisdom time and time again, and Daniel here is named as he is because of a gross and lethal error in judgement."

It's all blunt. Flat. Honest. "We follow Bear. We work harder for every scrap of Honor the Nation gives us. But if you think you can handle that, then you're welcome to run with us for the time being. We will treat you as a packmate. You will act like one. And if it works out, then in due time, we'll take you before the Ritesmistress and we'll summon Bear to accept you."

A beat. "How's that sound?"

[Nate Cross] "Well yeah that's all true ryha..and you could yell at me for that such is your rite. I know my lot in life and it wouldn't surprise me. As for running with your pack, sure...don't we all want to prove our worth in some way or another and for our own reasons ?. Sure I didn't know your name.. but now I do .. everything has to start from somewhere." he shrugs

As Hatcher reels off the crimes and misdemeanors of the pack , Nate just stands there, listening, learning "Well I'm the unwanted bastard child of who knows who. Left on the doorsteps of a orphanage with not even a name. We all have our crosses to bear."

"Well Bear sounds like my sort of totem, us Gnawer's do that every single day..... As for the conditions well I can't ask for anything more can I and just the chance to run with you for awhile is all I wanted."

He moves toward Hatchet and extends his hand and forearm to him "Thankyou. You won't be disappointed."

[Daniel Ingenssen] Daniel speaks up again, and only to say: "I look forward to running with you, Word on the Street-yuf."

In his entire time here, he's said two sentences -- aloud. The lean Forseti seems content with that.

[Nate Cross] He turns to Daniel, almost surprised the guy was still there "Likewise... Daniel? or is there another name you prefer?"

[Hatchet] He looks at Nate and blinks once, slowly. He looks at the extended arm, then up at the Gnawer. With a heavy sigh he lifts his hand and clasps Nate's wrist -- for roughly two full seconds, before letting go and withdrawing his hand.

He jerks his head at the door. "Both of you, git. I've got a patrol to do and I need privacy while I try and remember how to tie my shoelaces. Shoo."

[Daniel Ingenssen] "Broken Hammer," he replies simply, and then nods at the door. "Goodnight, Alpha."