Daniel Broken Hammer

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Gabriella sat at the table that currently housed all of the Bellamontes of Chicago, across from where her sister sat and her brother lingered, draped over the taller, more regal Bellamonte girl's shoulders. She was dressed as something of a common ground between her sister and her brother-- not so elegant as Katherine, but far more put-together than Edward. She chose lighter jeans that she'd tucked into calf-high winter boots, a white sweater knitted from some expensive sort of wool with a scooping shawl neck that flattered neck and bust kindly, with her hair left down in loose half-curls and simple diamond studs in her ears.

She was quiet for the moment, content to sip the cappuccino she'd retrieved for herself from the counter, listening to the pair while staring out the window at the dusting of snow that sprinkled Chicago's streets.

Lost in her own thoughts, but grounded enough (as always) to pay mind to what was transpiring right in front of her.

[Lee] Lee collects her drink and leaves.

[sorry for the abrupt departure, but thanks for the scene anyway!]

[Katherine Bellamonte] "Mm," his sister says idly, as if she had little care for what members of their tribe should do, when they so rarely did. "This is true." The bell above the door chimes then and along with a gust of frozen wind comes the scent of breeding. It's a subtle thing, the tilt of the true born's chin, the manner her pale eyes track the redhead's movements to the counter.

Katherine had ordered her coffee already, it sat steaming on the table before her and she stirred it now and again with manicured nails, neatly shaped into pale ovals with a french finish to them. She tapped the teaspoon against one side of the cup and set it down on the saucer before reclaiming her cup to her lips with a quiet husk of laughter at her brother's unflattering nickname for the Kinfolk.

"Oh oui, I recall her. She is going to attend the University of Chicago? C'est gentil, Gabbie, you'll have another friend." She cast a vaguely amused smile her younger sibling's way, before her eyes return to the door, a gleam casting a particular expression of mirth to them as the redheaded Kinswoman beats a hasty retreat with her purchase.

"Your number is not listed, frère, but maman would have passed it on to her, no doubt. Anyway, I look forward to meeting with her once more. Perhaps her knobby knees are no longer prevalent."

A beat, Katherine sips from her cup again and leans back against her chair.

"I heard you come in quite late the other evening, did you have an encounter while you were out?"

[Genevre de Provence] It was late, and the 1 servant she had, she she believes to be a spy of her father's, had the night off. So Genevre had to go out to eat. Her black winter overcoat was tied tight about her waist, a white crochet-knit hat for warmth. And black knee high leather boots.

As she entered the cafe, she took off the coat and hat, fixing her hair as she walks to a table. She wears a nice black button up dress, with a black and white scarf tied around her neck. She laid her coat and hat over the back of a chair, and sat down, debating on what to eat this night.

[Edward Bellamonte] Edward is the least stylish Silver Fang ever. Edward doesn't care.

".....why would . . . oh," he finishes with a look that can't quite be described; it's horror and amusement and confusion and about eight other things. "I understand. At least it's her meddling, oui? Better than that of some others."

Gen comes in, sits, and Edward's eyes track her briefly before he settles into his own seat rather than remaining draped over his sister, his face unreadable.

"I brought Gabbie a warmer coat, met some of our kinsmen, and walked another, not of our family, home. We talked." That comes with a shrug, and in his own head he answers that with 'so that's what they're calling it these days'. "And I made her dinner."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Kate commented on Gabbie getting a new friend, and the Kinfolk pulled the corners of her mouth into the most bland, half-assed attempt at as mile that the world may have seen yet.

Aside from that, she glanced toward the door and let her eyes trail after Genevre when she walked in. She sniffed just a little bit, the winter did horrible things to one's sinuses and nasal cavity, and a girl just had to cope with that, then curled her hands around the short, broad coffee mug that held her frothy drink and held it near her lips, taking the occasional sip here and there.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Genevre enters the cafe, and the Philodox's eye is immediately upon her, when she seats herself distant from the Bellamonte trio, a frown twists the lovely features of the Half Moon. "Genevre," she calls to her, and gestures toward the empty seat beside her siblings.

"Come, sit with us. Have you met my elder brother Edward Bellamonte yet?"

Her eyes dart back to her brother, sharp as a viper. "Who was this other Kinsfolk that you escorted home, my brother?" His sister's voice was deceivingly light.

[Genevre de Provence] She glances up and sees the Bellamontes, the soul of House Wyrmfoe. A light smile was given at the invite, and she gets up once more as the waitress comes over. An order for the House Blend coffee, and chicken salad on a croissant. She motioned to the Bellamonte table as she told the waitress that's where she was moving to. She pulled the chair with her coat and hat on it, over to where she was going, making sure the chair was out of the way but still seen.

"Good evening, my friends." A bow of the head as she takes the empty seat. " 'Ow are we this evening?"

[Genevre de Provence] ((Damn it, the italics are suppose to be in french))

[Katherine Bellamonte] (shh, it's okay. WE CAN PRETEND.)

[Hatchet] Just because he has access to coffee at the Brotherhood that he does not necessarily have to pay for does not mean that Danny, the redheaded kinsman who often makes said coffee, is any good at brewing it. For a man who has been on the road for as long as he can remember -- up until last year, when fate and ill fortune and a string of bizarre decisions had him deciding to stay in Chicago -- Hatchet has a rather discerning palate when it comes to coffee.

That is to say: he is a picky, picky bastard. Thanks be to Gaia that he rarely wants the stuff, for when he does, it is not unheard of for him to go pounding on the door of Room 8, demanding that his packmate accompany him to an area of town where they both stick out like sore thumbs,

to go to a cafe where their combined Rage under a gibbous moon will make even the staunchest mortal go pale,

to get 'a goddamned cappucino worth drinking', as Hatchet put it.

He is, thus, the first one in the door, pushing it open and flipping the hood of his jacket back from his face, looking about as eager for caffeine as any executive with a seven a.m. meeting.

[Edward Bellamonte] "Fenrir," he says quietly, rubbing at the back of his neck; it's a thing he only does when he's nervous or fretful, but he's been that a lot since his return. "Izzy Montoya. She's a detective."

Then there's Gen, and Edward attempts a smile - it's as rusty as it was the night before, as if his face has somehow become unaccustomed to what was once its default expression.

"Bonjour, Genevre. I hope your day has been well."

The Rage in this coffee shop is, indeed, an impressive thing - much of the regular clientele have left, or are in the process of doing so, with even just the trio of Bellamontes present. Hatchet makes the exodus that much more determined.

[Genevre de Provence] Genevre smiled to Edward, a much more relaxed and sincere smile than they have ever seen. "Oui, it 'as been a glorious weekend, indeed."

If they were looking hard enough, they might notice that her scarf was barely hiding bite marks.

[Edward Bellamonte]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 6, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Perception + Alertness]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6) [WP]

[Eleanor Courtenay] The doorman had directed the 5'6 teen toward the nearest location to get something warm to drink and perhaps to eat. While he offers to hail her a taxi, Eleanor waves him off with a smile...assuring him she'd be just fine walking the few blocks. A slip of a young woman, she's bundled up against the elements in a long black coat, dark scarf and gloves. She is an attractive human being. Her eyes are gray, her cheeks rosy from the cold air. Were her looks not aesthetically pleasing enough to draw a second glance, her hair probably would. It is unstylishly long - almost to her knees - and a beautiful shade of pale brown. Tonight is left free, hanging in long exotic waves down her back and over one shoulder. When she enters the coffee shop she is unaware of the Bellamonte's. Her interest, at the moment, is on securing a warm cup of coffee.

[Katherine Bellamonte] "We are all in excellent health, bien sûr." Responds Katherine with what she reserves as her polite occasioning tone and expression. Her own Rage is nothing small this evening, though it pales in contrast to the man who has just stepped inside, and sent most of the remaining clientele scrambling from his near proximity. Katherine, who is sitting with her eyes upon the door takes on an almost startled expression, her color rising.

Her attention jerks from the door to her brother and back again; her lips tighten fractionally and none could miss the jump in her Rage, flavoring the air around her. She has no notion of how this meeting will go down.

Edward notes that the woman he escorted home with Fenrir, and that causes his sister's eyes to narrow fractionally, yet it is the sight of what cannot be mistaken for less than bite marks on her Kinswoman's neck that have them dropping to half moons of suspicion. "What is that on your neck, Genevre?"

She asks suddenly, her attention utterly focused.

[Genevre de Provence] Her eyes blinked wide a bit and her hand went to her throat. "I..burned myself with the curling iron." She tugged her scarf up a bit.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine's eyes do not stray, she stirs her coffee cup.

"Remove your scarf, s'il vous plaît."

She says it as casually as one would a remark on the snow, but it should not be mistaken for a request.

[Edward Bellamonte] A hand comes to rest on his sister's arm, soothing, and then his eyebrows leap up - the hand falls away in a gesture of 'oh no you di-hen't', and.

He actually kind of smiles, except it's in a nearly cruel, smirking kind of way.

"Don't ever play cards at my table, please," he says, and his eyes trace up to the opening door - there's Hatchet, and the sight of him doesn't get the old anger. In fact, Edward doesn't really care. And then . . .

".....little girls do grow up, don't they?"

[Edward Bellamonte] The last, of course, being in reaction to Eleanor.

[Genevre de Provence] A sigh escaped her lips, and she reached up to untie the scarf and remove it. Her neck covered in healing bites and small hickies. Her eyes fall to the table.

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Gabriella watched all of this silently, placidly. She seemed far from invested, perhaps like she was on another plane of existence while her body was left behind to occupy the chair because it had to be left somewhere. Clear blue eyes skimmed Genevre, and a soft, quiet scoffing sound escaped her throat.

"Curling iron," she murmered, then shook her head and covered her mouth with the rim of a cappuccino mug.

[Katherine Bellamonte] There's a moment when the Half Moon's anger seems dangerous. She has not failed to notice that whist this conversation with Genevre occurs, Eleanor has stepped inside the cafe, if anything, the presence of another of her tribe seems only to stoke the creature's Rage as she sits, so very still and serene (outwardly, though inwardly she wrests control from her beast) before she sets her coffee cup back on its saucer and straightens with the faintest exhale of a sigh leaving her lips.

She smiles, not altogether without amusement, but the expression is too sharp, too defined and certain to be an utterly human expression.

"May I ask who has been so kind as to gift you with these signs of their affection, Genevre."

[Genevre de Provence] Genevre retied the scarf around her neck once more as her coffee and sandwich arrived. A thank you given to the waitress, and she looks back to Katherine. "Some I met at the nightclub. J'ai des besoins, mon tuteur."

[Genevre de Provence] ((Suppose to be Someone not some))

[Eleanor Courtenay] It did not take more than scant seconds before Ellie picked up on the intensity of Rage inside the shop. Her eyes shift right, left and soon her head follows suit, picking up on primarily Edward Bellamonte first. It isn't until the cashier is asking for her order a second time that the pretty girl with the Rapunzel hair turns toward the counter and smiles.

"Oh...a café au lait please..." She is already tugging off her gloves and loosening her scarf, her now bare fingers working the buttons of her coat to gain access to the money shoved deep into the pockets of her blue jeans.

To say that Ellie has grown into herself would be an enormous understatement. She is tall, still, but her body has begun to curve and fill out in places that were once as flat as the Midwestern plains. Gone are the ugly braces she once wore, her teeth are now beautifully straight and white. Beyond these physically appealing traits, there's a strength in her breeding that is hard to ignore. It is apparent in almost every aspect of her being - hers is the blood of Heroes and Kings - and while Ellie may not be Garou, she holds a special something that separates her distinctly from the mortals now finding reasons to exit the coffee shop all around them.

[Edward Bellamonte] "You are aware of my sister's moon, are you not?"

It's almost purred, and Edward sits back to watch - though he does take the opportunity to pull up a chair between himself and Gabbie for the new arrival. When she looks his way, there's a raised eyebrow and a nod towards it, and despite the smile that Eleanor grew up knowing, his face bears little evidence of it now. His hair is also showing the first signs of gray, though she knows he's not really that much older than she.

"I would suggest you not speak unless it's to tell the truth, or you'll just make it harder on yourself."

[Hatchet] There are Ahrouns whose rage pales in comparison to Hatchet's. And that's terrifying to consider. He's not old enough to be so full of fury. He's scarred enough for it. But no one deserves it. And no one deserves to be near it. Not Eleanor, surely, finding the door held open for her by this tall man with the pale hair and the steely gray eyes and the scar that goes from his adam's apple to his earlobe around the right side of his neck.

He tips his head as he looks at her, follows her with his eyes across the cafe. And lets the door close behind Daniel, which is about the time he finds the Bellamontes there. They're distracted. He doesn't smirk when he sees Ed, nor walk over and interrupt. He watches for a moment, silent.

[Katherine Bellamonte] "Le tuteur ne peut faire son travail quand elle sait que tous les faits," she returns, the french spoken fluently, but without the natural graces of a Parisian tongue. Katherine leans in, her expression focused, her hands carefully clasped around little but her cup and saucer.

"What was this boy lover's name? I will not punish you, Genevre, but I must know. You see this, don't you?" She gentles; her voice turning gentler. "Tell me, ma pupille peu."

[Genevre de Provence] She frowned and sipped her coffee. "Must you know every man I come in contact with? Or when I eat? Drink? Use the bathroom? I understand you are mon guardian, you are to keep me safe. But I am not allowed a life of mon own?"

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Gabriella made a noise from her mug.

Something between a snort and a laugh.

Then fell silent once more.

[Edward Bellamonte] "Not when it leaves marks, you're not," Edward says, the soul of helpfulness.

[Genevre de Provence] She eyed Edward, and not in a good way.

[Edward Bellamonte] Edward just looks back, eyebrow raised, amused. He gives a shrug, as if to say 'you did it, not I'.

He is, of course a hypocrite.

[Eleanor Courtenay] Hatchet is watched only because of his Rage. She tracks him with eyes filled to brimming with wonder. Her's is not a gaze of wholehearted innocence, it is however one filled with a healthy amount of intense curiosity. She pays for her drink, turns away from the counter and perceptively notes the chair Edward has pulled over for her. There are changes surely to be noted about them all - Edward and his few graying strands, the beauty she's grown into, the weight that seems to sit so heavily on Katherine's shoulders.

When she's close enough to the Bellamonte's table, Ellie removes her coat and drapes it across the back of the empty chair between Edward and Gabriella. Her bootcut denim jeans are faded, and her pale pink asymmetrical sweatshirt hangs off one shoulder.

"Do you mind?" She asks, being polite rather than just seating herself at an already almost full table.

[Daniel Ingenssen] Daniel, following behind Hatchet, lets the kinswoman in ahead of himself. He doesn't know her. That doesn't matter. Her blood sings of Silver Fangs, which is enough for him. She's kin; she's not of his tribe; she's not, therefore, under his purview.

He does note Hatchet's regard. And the lean Forseti's eyes flicker from the Fianna to the Fangs; back.

"Know them, do you?"

[Katherine Bellamonte] "Genevre, you are the under my protection for as long as you reside in this city, as such, as long as you reside in this city and I deem that your person may be in danger, be it from an overzealous lover or a bad manicure, you will give me the respect of answering the questions I set before you." A beat, Katherine's focus is now absolute, she is a bloodhound who has scented blood in the air.

"Now, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way but I will have this man's name from you, petite, you can be certain of it."

[Hatchet] "Hmm."

It's a noncommittal sound, and not much of an answer. For what it's worth, he doesn't frown when Daniel asks him if he knows the flock of Silver Fangs over on the other side of the cafe. He just watches them a moment longer, then turns and looks at his newest packmate.

"The scruffy-looking one is Edward Bellamonte," he tells him, and starts towards the counter, "Katherine's elder brother and a trickster I shudder to have to call my equal."

In rank. He cannot say yuf here, cannot say Fostern here, so he says 'equal' with as much dry avoidance as possible. It is crystal clear how much of an equal Hatchet truly thinks Edward is. He braces his hands on the counter, avoiding the nervous eyes of the barista. "And the freckled one is their sister, Gabriella. I have no idea who the other two are."

His tone, again, expresses what he does not: he does not much care about knowing who they are, either.

"...Do you have hazelnut syrup?" he asks idly, frowning at the menu overhead. They have hazelnut syrup. "Excellent!" he declares, and demands they put some into a cappucino for him.

[Genevre de Provence] She continued to frown. And as her temper grew, her accent grew worse til it was just complete french. "I understand zat you 'ave to veiller sur moi. Mais je suis toujours la fille de mon père, et ont toujours le droit à la vie privée. Croyez-moi quand je dis, la personne que j'étais avec, ne serait jamais me faire de mal."

[Katherine Bellamonte] "Then it is to your father I shall report." She looks from Genevre with what must amount to an exasperated sigh. "If you cannot give me so much as a name for this man, I am left with little but the assumption that you are aware he is beneath you and you should not be associating with him. As such, this constitutes a threat to both your honor and to my abilities as your guardian."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Gabriella had been largely silent for the evening, content to sip at her beverage and listen to people drivel on, be it Edward and Katherine chatting about this and that or Katherine boring holes into this Provence girl's soul, demanding information, playing the same game with Genevre as she had done with her own younger sister just a fistful of months ago. Perhaps it was because her cup had become empty, perhaps it was because it was late and she wanted to go home and sleep. Perhaps it was because the diner was becoming too stuffy, but...

"Shut up."

She half-snapped at Genevre, and settled a blue-eyed glare upon her that looked almost personally insulted. This stayed for a moment before she shook her head, stood, and gathered her black double-breasted trench from the back of her chair and pulled it on over her shoulders. Poor Eleanor was completely bypassed. "Your insolence got you scolded by your cousin, and you put your tail between your legs without so much as a sneeze. And now you try pulling the same stubborn maneuvers with my sister? Good God, if you're going to stand up for yourself at least do it with half a spine rather than whining about who your father is."

Her arms were jammed through the sleeves of her coat, and without so much as a farewell to those gathered, she swept herself away from the table, toward the door.

[Edward Bellamonte] "Bullshit," Edward says, quiet and suddenly intense; something about what Gen's said has rubbed him entirely the wrong way. "Mai il pas le faire exprès, mais il va vous faire mal. Il va te faire du mal, encore et encore, et vous souhaite qu'il vient de vous couper et vous faire saigner déjà. Ne pas confondre, fille stupide."

His accent has changed since he was gone - with time spent in the ancestral home of House Bellamonte, he does sound like a native. Regardless, with a visible attempt at settling, he gives Eleanor a nod.

"You may join us, if you wish," he says, and then watches Gabriella go. Again, there's a hint of . . . something unclear, but he tries to let it go.

[Genevre de Provence] She tensed up a beat when Katherine threatened to call daddy dearest. Her eyes fell to the table and she whispered softly. "Mai on parle seul, mon tuteur?"

[Genevre de Provence] She shot a glance to Edward. "I was not speaking to you, monsior."

[Katherine Bellamonte] Gabriella speaks up, lashes out and departs. Her older sister watches her with an unfathomable expression in her pale eyes before she closes them, lifts her fingers to the bridge of her nose and applies gentle pressure even as her elder brother cuts in, and Genevre retorts back.

"Enough." She says, without raising her face, and then again, sterner. "Enough, Edward. Go, see that Gabriella is alright, perhaps pay some mind to Eleanor, I confess she has come upon us at a bad time." Katherine's hand drops, she rises to her feet, and inclines her head at Genevre.

"Come, then. We shall speak a moment in private."

[Eleanor Courtenay] Her mouth is slightly open, as if she cannot believe what she's had the misfortune of walking into. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth and it is just her free hand that remains on the back of the chair as if she were unsure of whether or not sitting would be a good idea. Gabriella barks at Genevre and Edward curses at the same woman before telling her she can sit, or not.

"Je suis vraiment désolé" She offers quietly to the table, her eyes peeking through and partially around a curtain of hair to look at Edward and then at Katherine. The hand that had been resting on the back of the chair gathers her coat almost as quickly as she had laid it across the chair back. There's an empty table not far from the Bellamonte's, and that's where she gos to sit her coffee down to begin bundling up once more.

[Daniel Ingenssen] Daniel continues watching the Fangs even as Hatchet turns to order. When it's his turn at bat, the Forseti's head snaps around. He scowls at the complicated menu for a second, and then looks at the barista.

"Coffee." A beat. The young man behind the counter seems to be waiting for more. "Black." And he holds up his hand, thumb and two fingers about six inches apart. "Medium cup."

He pays with a handful of coins. Then, with another frowning glance at the Fangs, he steps back to wait for his drink.

"Sounds like the kinswoman's been fornicating with someone they don't approve of. At least, she's refusing to give up the name of her lover. They're concerned that their prize broodmare's being mistreated by someone inferior to their exalted status and they're not happy with her." If Daniel's being ironic, it's hard to tell. He's utterly straightfaced. "I don't think it's our concern, but if you want to intervene I'll back you."

[Genevre de Provence] She bowed her head. "Oui, mon tuteur." She got up from her seat, leaving money and tip for her untouched meal. She took her coat and hat in her arms, and followed behind Katherine in silence.

[Edward Bellamonte] "Come along, then, Nora Kno . . . Eleanor - unless you'd rather stay with your coffee?" But that's not a true option, given the two Garou - one known, one un-. "I'm in the mood for a hot dog, if the man with the cart hasn't closed and moved on for the night. Let's get Gabbie, shall we?"

His arm is offered when he stands, easy and natural, as if he had been raised to treat her as a lady. Which he has, horrid childhood nickname not withstanding.

[Hatchet] Once upon a time, the sight of Hatchet entering an establishment where Gabriella Bellamonte was sitting would have been grounds for Katherine tracking them down and forcibly separating them whether they'd intended to see one another or not. Tonight, when Gabriella gets up and heads for the door, Hatchet turns away from the barista and looks straight at her.

But he doesn't follow. And he doesn't speak. And the Bellamontes do not, anymore, stick close to Gabbie's side to make sure that Hatchet doesn't so much as breathe near her.

He takes his cappucino as Daniel is ordering his, and listens to the Forseti's analysis. "Indeed," he says thoughtfully, sipping. He watches Katherine and Genevre, then looks over and down at Daniel. "Rumor has it that a little while ago Kate's sister was held down and beaten by a pair of our kind," he says quietly, as they step away from the counter, each of them carrying a cup now. "And," he goes on, holding up a finger, "word around the fire is that Her Majesty has become quite the advocate against such violence on our broodmares and prize studs."

Hatchet sips, glancing over at the Fangs as they're all rising as though to leave. "I disagree with Kate on... well, almost everything." Used to be more. On principle. Out of little more than dislike. "But she'll handle it." And handle it just fine, from the tone he takes.

"Now, Ed, on the other hand, is a total waste of space, and I highly encourage you to bite at his ankles whenever the opportunity arises. Do you, by any chance, feel like a hot dog?"

[Eleanor Courtenay] Her hands have gathered the mass of her hair to lay it across one shoulder so that she can slip on her coat again. She looks embarrassed - whether that be for Genevre or herself or the entire table isn't exactly obvious. She is pulling on her gloves by the time Edward approaches her. Ellie smiles when he speaks, though it is a tight smile.

A grey storm cloud glance is spared for the two men that had entered the coffee house with her. Then, they of course return to Edward.

"Of course, thank you." He does not call her Knobby Knees, and this seems to please her greatly.

[Katherine Bellamonte] As they pass by Hatchet and Daniel, the Philodox bears her fellow Half Moon some mind and gives him a brief, distracted nod of her head, her eyes briefly tracing over the Forseti as she passes by him in a cloud of designer perfume, if she's heard his little commentary toward Hatchet, she doesn't make comment of it.

Or maybe she's simply too busy at present to care.

Outside, their breath fogs before them and Katherine's cheeks instantly take on a rosy sheen as the chill seeps beneath her coat. She walks a discreet distance from the cafe with her ward, then turns and faces her, her arms tucked into her pockets for warmth. Most mortal men would consider her a beauty, and certainly from a distance she possesses all the physical charm of one with her high cheekbones, and lovely, full lips. But there is a frost to Katherine that seems to set the closer you approached; her beauty could not disguise it.

She had been hardened, whether by nature or her persona, was debatable.

"I am listening, Genevre."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Hatchet and Daniel's words reached her ears simply because a part of her was listening for them. Oh, don't think that Hatchet's entering the building had gone unnoticed. There was a time that she would have peeled herself away from her siblings and rushed over to his side to smile and talk and play catch-up. But things had changed, time had gone on, and Gabriella had grown callous.

She cast a glance to the men, a face she recognized very, very well and one she'd never seen before in her life, eyes flickering over Daniel before landing on Hatchet... or more, meeting his eyes directly. He was looking straight at her, and she was looking back. She paused, steps slowing for a moment. But whatever she was considering was cast aside in favor of taking the door out without saying a word or walking over to the two men.

She finished buttoning her coat and pulled her gloves out of her pockets to slide them on as she pushed the door open with her shoulder, either unaware or uncaring that her brother had been sent to tail after her and that he was pulling another Kinfolk along with him.

[Daniel Ingenssen] Daniel frowns. "No. I don't like hot dogs." Look under party-pooper in the Oxford English Dictionary, and you'll find a print of Daniel's dour mug. Nonetheless he adds, stepping forward to pick up his cuppa, "But I'll go with you."

[Theron Locke] The dark-haired Lord was a man of leisure tonight, he had no prior comittments. He had done a quick patrol of the surrounds of the Brotherhood but had come across nothing. So here he was in front of one of the numerous coffee shops of the city. His coat drawn tight around him , as he walked towards the building. Reaching the door way , he opened the door and stepped into the welcome warmth that it offered. His coat falling open as he headed towards the counter to place his order.

[Genevre de Provence] When they stepped outside, Genevre put her hat on and then slipped on her coat and tied it about her waist. She pulled some cashmere gloves out of her pocket and slipped them on her hands.

She was saddened actually, that she had to go through all this. She never did before she came here. But then, it might explain why most of her ex-boyfriends suddenly decided they wanted to see other people. Damn it all being the daughter of the King.

Theron walked right by them, and she watched him go by. Then she looked to Katherine.

"You would not really call mon père, would you?"

[Edward Bellamonte] Edward's cup of cocoa (not so much coffee tonight, but something warm, silky rich and comforting) is claimed and brought along as he and Eleanor follow Gabbie - she's caught up with, and invited for a hot dog, but she chooses to go home instead.

Edward frowns, briefly, but nods and wishes her goodnight, and continues for his hot dog.

"You arrived . . . this afternoon? Evening?"

It's for Nora, of course, and while Hatchet and Daniel aren't ignored, the Ragabash isn't making any moves to include them either. He is wary, in fact, and watchful.

"How was your flight?"

[Hatchet] When Gabbie meets his eyes, hers callous and his detached, he winks. There's a dry smile to go with it, as though in some silent camaraderie that may or may not be genuine. It goes no farther. He sips his drink, Gabriella leaves, and Hatchet looks back at Daniel. "Good man; they're not actually real food."

He reaches back and flips the hood of his coat back up over his pale hair. "Let's go fuck with the Fangs anyway. I think that longhaired one was flirting with me."

They pass by Theron on their way out; he knows him as a member of the Unbroken, knows him as Katherine's packmate. He gives him a nod and steps outside, turning the direction of the the hot dog vendor, arriving a few steps after Edward and Eleanor.

"Edward, where the fuck have you been?" are the first words out of his mouth in nearly a year to the Ragabash, as though the two are old friends.

[Katherine Bellamonte] Her pack-mate is nearby, two of them in actuality. Her brother and Theron, who passes by the Philodox on his way into the cafe. Genevre glances at him as if she recognizes his face, and Katherine's sharp, Falcon's eyes catch it -- she frowns. Then turns her attention back on the girl before her.

How old was Genevre to her? Were they not close enough in age to be school friends, to sit side by side in classes where the world a different place. Katherine reaches out to Theron mentally, nudging the totem bond much the way a sibling might another, a hand to a shoulder, almost fondly.

Almost.

"Yes, I would. If you won't tell me what I need to know, I will do whatever I have to, to ensure your safety." She seems almost sad about it, perhaps a touch bitter-sweetly so. "I know you probably think me too harsh, you think I mean to prevent you from ever making friends, knowing men intimately. This is not my intent, I promise you. But you must understand that my task is not one I can choose when to act on. I am your guardian every moment of the day and night. Not simply when it amuses me to be so."

[Eleanor Courtenay] They are outside. Her warm coffee is brought to her lips. Edwards words have just enough time to settle into her brain before the sound of Hatchet's voice cuts through her train of thought like a warm knife through butter. The heels of her boots elevate her height two inches so that she seems more like five foot eight. Even still, she looks very feminine. Very sure of herself, yet very delicate and feminine in build.

She stops if Edward stops. Turns if Edward turns. Levels her eyes somewhere on Hatchet's person whether or not Edward does. The drink again is brought to her lips and she adjusts her gaze between the other two Garou before finally looking to Edward at her side.

[Genevre de Provence] Her head lowered and she sighed softly. The heat of it making a cloud come forth. "I swear, I could be in no safer 'ands when you are non around."

[Edward Bellamonte] "Hatchet," comes over his shoulder, though Ed does turn to walk backwards for a moment before stopping; Edward is a great many things, though rude is (generally) not one of them.

Well, except in the generally arrogant way that most Fangs are rude, at any rate.

"Ever the charmer. I've been a few places, actually; have you missed me?" He bats his eyelashes, hands coming to clasp around his cup, over his heart.

[Katherine Bellamonte] "I believe that is likely so, but it does not change the fact that I require the name of your amant." There's some sense of quiet amusement to Katherine's words, as she waits on Genevre to offer her a name.

"He is true born? Kinfolk? What? Tell me, oui."

[Daniel Ingenssen] Daniel just frowns. He seems rather perplexed by their interaction.

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Persuasion on Genevre - You want to give me his name, you do.]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 6, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6) [WP]

[Hatchet] "Terribly," Hatchet says dryly, and looks at Eleanor. "Who are you?"

[Katherine Bellamonte] [Charisma + Expression. "HEED MY WORDS" + WP, I like burning through it apparently.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]

[Theron Locke] Theron gives Hatchet a small nod, he had only seen the man at the Moot the few days before. Other than that they had never spoken.

And then the soft touch at the corner of his mind, enough to make him turn - his attention guided. His eyes find Katherine at one of the many tables. Sitting next to...Genevre... - oh this can't be good he thought - as he begins heading in their direction after placing his order.

"Evening Kate..Evening Genevre" he addresses, his voice calm as he tries to give nothing away. His eyes ever so briefly meeting Genevre's.

[Genevre de Provence] ((WP resist. It's my damn secret!))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 5, 7, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Genevre de Provence] She touched her neck. " 'E is.. a very sweet man, Katherine. And 'e cares fo' me a great deal. Why can you not trust me about this?"

[Eleanor Courtenay] Her Café au lait is growing cold in her gloved hands. Edward remarks sarcastically to Hatchet and Ellie is unsure what to make of the entire incident. At some point her gaze has drifted to the dirty pavement and only return to Hatchet's face when he asks who she is.

"Eleanor Courtenay." She says, her words bearing a washed out French accent.

[Katherine Bellamonte] The Philodox applies the gentle pressure of a gift to her words, weighing them down with a tugging that seems to sigh confess, confess, tell her everything, it is what should come to pass even as the Kinswoman fights against this pressuring. She wins out, and Theron approaches.

He feels the whiplash of his packmate's agitation across the link, the grinding of mental teeth as they snap together and her patience frays. "It is not a question of trust, Genevre, it is a question of what is proper. His name, now, Kinswoman or I make the call to your father. I am weary, and my temper grows short."

[Edward Bellamonte] "Hatchet, I am pleased," lie, "to introduce you to my kinswoman, Eleanor. Eleanor, this is Hatchet." The latter is said in tones similar to the ones many would use to say 'no one of importance', but he gives a shrug. And is polite.

Edward could kill a person with polite if he wanted to.

"And you?" The query is for Daniel, who he doesn't know. And he is, of course, protective of Eleanor, if not as much so as he'd once been of his sisters. He is relaxed, or appears so.

[Genevre de Provence] She fixed at her gloves, they did have to be on just perfectly. " 'Ow do you think mon père would fell 'earing the nobal 'Ouse Wyrmfoe runs under a Shadow Lord totem?" Yes she is trying her very best not to spill the name.

[Hatchet] The dislike between Hatchet and Edward, however mild -- and if it were not mild, if it were not relatively inconsequential by now, at least one of the Garou would have already thrown a fist -- is almost palpable. It is also unmistakable. With friends, the sarcasm and teasing would have a lightness and warmth to it that is utterly missing between Fianna and Fang. Edward is unconcerned; Hatchet is disdainful; both of them are, ultimately, dismissive.

And Eleanor and Daniel are left at something of a loss.

It is not easy to have the focus of Hatchet's attention. His rage seems to fill up the very air around him, choking the oxygen out of breaths. He wears only a shearling-lined hoodie but seems untouched by the below-freezing temperatures, cappuccino cooling rapidly as steam rises from the surface of the liquid.

He lifts a hand and waves it at Edward, back and forth with each word. "She. Already. Said. Her. Name. Also," and his hand stills, then drops, as he looks at the Ragabash. "I wasn't asking you. Also:" and he turns back to Eleanor for this: "call me Taggart. Only Garou call me by my deed name, and you don't even have all of that."

Nor does he give it to her. He nods at Daniel. "Broken Hammer, meet Silver Jester, Fostern New Moon of obvious and previously spoken tribe. Edward, this is Daniel, Cliath Forseti and my packmate."

[Katherine Bellamonte] The Silver Fang's eyes flash.

"I think he would deal with the news infinitely better than he would the news that his daughter's chastity has been passed off to the first attractive smile cast her way." Katherine sneers, and narrows the distance between them. Her hands have not ventured from her pockets. "You are the daughter of a King," she hisses. "You think he will welcome you home to his embrace when he finds out that you have sullied your reputation? Mon Dieu."

She steps away, her hand appearing with a cellphone in tow. "I thought you a smarter woman than this, Genevre."

She begins to locate her father's number.

[Theron Locke] Theron just raises an eyebrow at the conversation going on between the two. Trying to play catch up as he peaced the conversation together.

And then realisation dawns as Katherine's questions for a name.. and Genevre's discussion about Shadow Lord Totems get fit together. They had been talking about him, their little secret had not even survived a week before someone was trying to bring it too light.

His attention broken as a frustrated and annoyed waitress exited the coffee shop and almost thrust a coffee into his hands. He was somewhat thankful, as he turned back to the two young females and took a long sip to hide any reaction he had to his realisation.

[Genevre de Provence] She looked over her shoulder to Theron for a moment after seeing the cellphone. Then she turned back to Katherine. The couple of steps were taken to close in on Katherine, and she puts her hand over the cellphone. "Il est debout à droite avec nous, mon tuteur."

[Eleanor Courtenay] Grey eyes jerk toward the Fianna quickly when he speaks in such a way to Edward. Did she expect something? Some sort of snappy retort or worse yet a physical threat? Probably, as her eyes then shift slowly to Edward Bellamonte. The young Fang kin is ignorant to whatever past lays between the Garou at her side and the Fianna mere feet from her. So she listens and remains quiet. Hatchet informs her of what she should - or should not - call him and Eleanor nods. The smothering intensity of Hatchet's Rage keeps her from leaving her eyes on him for too long. In the end she ends up turning her attention toward passing traffic though her ears are keen on their conversation.

[Daniel Ingenssen] Daniel looks at Eleanor for a moment as she's introduced, responding only with a single nod. Then his eyes are back on Edward.

"Rhya," he acknowledges.

The two Sentinels have recently departed the same cafe Edward and Eleanor left not long before. Both are holding hot beverages; Hatchet's a cappuccino, Daniel's a plain black coffee. The cup looks infinitely more at home in Hatchet's hand, and that's saying something considering Hatchet is, on the best of days, a beast in barely-human guise.

Daniel: well. His human guise goes about as far as his upright stance, the clothes he wears, his opposable thumbs. Everything else about him -- his direct, unwavering stare, the quick turns of his head, his lightfooted, dexterous way of moving -- is thoroughly inhuman.

Silently now, his mind reaches out to Hatchet's. His use of the totemic link is still imperfect, but improving. His question isn't so much voiced as it is a general sense of inquiry: what's Hatchet's history with Edward?

What was with the haet?

[Katherine Bellamonte] Genevre closes on Katherine, and sets her palm over the phone, the Aristocrat turns, her expression reading pure expectation that she is about to receive the information she has had to extract like stubborn teeth. He is standing right with us, my Guardian, she murmurs and the Silver Fang's eyes shift to take in Theron.

There is a shift now, her eyes darken by degrees and across the totemlink (my god can Edward sense it, can they all in turn, most especially Theron) they can sense Katherine's rage, her sensation of utter betrayal and after it; her disgust resurfacing. Oh you stupid, ignorant son of Thunder.

The phone snaps shut, she looks at Genevre for a moment, lips thinned to a strained line: "Go home, Genevre. We will discuss this at a later time. I must have words with my pack-mate."

[Edward Bellamonte] "A charmer, and so very pleasant to boot," Edward says. "You do know the way to one's heart, don't you?"

It could be harsh. Perhaps would be, if the Ragabash could muster himself to care. As it stands, it's simply that teasing that lacks the comfort and warmth to mark them as friends, or the ire to mark them as enemies.

They don't like each other, is all.

"A pleasure," he says to Daniel, with a quirk of his lips that could be smile, but is not - it's nicer, though, than the gray between himself and Hatchet. It's easy to see that Edward can be, maybe usually is, quite pleasant to be around. (Well, not for the humans around them, perhaps, but for the ones that matter.)

[Genevre de Provence] She curled her hands around Katherine's hand that held the phone. "S'il vous plaît, Katherine, je me soucie de lui. Je l'ai séduit. Ne vous fâchez pas avec lui. C'est ma faute, et je suis très désolé. Mais s'il vous plaît, laissez-nous être ensemble. Il me fait sourire." She looked to Kate, there was fear and concern in her eyes.

[Theron Locke] His head flicks to Kate in an instant as the rage washes over his mind, her anger almost palpable. She knows...sheknows and she isn't happy about. What was so bad with what they had done to erupt in this sort of reaction.

His eyes search for Genevre urging her to remove her to distance herself from Kate. "Yes I think... Kate and I need to talk."

[Hatchet] What was the story, Daniel wants to know, even if the question doesn't quite make it into words. There's no answer from any of the other Sentinels: they weren't in Boston, four years ago. They weren't here, last year. But they all hear the explanation, or the avoidance, or the promise, which is essentially:

I'll tell you later.

He looks at Edward and cocks a brow, looking amused. "Maybe not yours." It falls, and he sips his coffee. "So are you sticking around this time?"

[Katherine Bellamonte] She carefully removed the Kinwoman's hands from her person. "You do not comprehend the situation you have just put me in, do you? He is a Shadow Lord, Genevre. Even were you not who you are this would be a very, very dangerous liaison to have made.

Not only is he the one tribe among the Nation that our own hate beyond measure, beyond sense, but he is my pack mate, girl. I cannot kill him and I shall not, though be certain at present I want nothing else." She growls, her white teeth grinding together.

She steps away from Genevre, raising her hands as if she cannot fathom such a thing as the Kinswoman before her.

Theron speaks. Theron speaks and Katherine pivots to face him, her face a mask of cold fury. "You. Into the alleyway. Now." Lukas receives the benefit of this plum across their shared link: Mark my words, Lukas Wyrmbreaker. Were we not packed together so long and did I not hold respect for you, I would be ripping the arms from your kinsman right now and beating him senseless with them.

[Eleanor Courtenay] Maybe not yours. This, again, snaps her attention right back to Hatchet. Interest had turned to wariness where as that man was concerned and were he not so brimming with Rage she might of said something to him. She is smarter than that though and as far as kinfolk go, Eleanor is a rather obedient and respectful kinswoman. Whatever was between the two Garou, she would -always- settle her position on the Silver Fang side of the fence. She remains near to Edward, her free hand drawing a long section of pale brown waves over one shoulder. This is an action of idleness. If their conversation holds interest for her young ears, she is not expressing it.

Her coffee is cold and Café au lait did not taste very good chilled. Ellie walks the two or three feet away from Edward and toward the nearest trash can in which she deposits her half empty Styrofoam cup. Stormy grey eyes find Katherine and the wayward kinswoman, her eyes flicker over Theron curiously before skipping back briefly toward the two Garou she doesn't really know.

[Genevre de Provence] "If you 'ate them so much, why do you pack with them! Why do you run under the totem of a SHadow Lord! You are a 'ypocrit, Bellamonte! And I will be with 'im!" Spitting at Katherine's feet. Her anger knew no bounds at this moment. She turned on her heels, starting to walk off as she ripped the scarf from her neck and threw it to the ground.

[Edward Bellamonte] Ed, for a moment, is distracted - there's a flicker-flash of true amusement as he answers thoughtlessly, speaking across for all of them for the first time. Really? Oh, good. There's popcorn near, I can smell it.

He's felt his sister's anger all this time, and not responded until now when before there would have been something.

Regardless, his eyes flicker back to Hatchet, and he smirks; the amusement is gone, and his dark eyes are shuttered tight. "That is the plan, yes. Such concern, Taggart - I'm touched."

[Katherine Bellamonte] Katherine has Genevre's arm in a bruising vicegrip in an instant, and all pretense of humanity has been wiped from her face, she leans close, very close to the Kinwoman's face and enunciates every syllable clearly: "You understand nothing, you are a silly, stupid girl meddling in affairs that have lasted longer than you have been in existance.. Go home!"

She lets her go, brandishing a hand to wave her off before she stalks into the alleyway like a seething lioness.

[Genevre de Provence] "I will go where ever I damn well please, woman." She ripped her arm away, not carrying about the pain. "Never touch me again." Now, once more, trying to leave.

[Katherine Bellamonte] She does not reply; she is gone and with her is the bristling, burning air of her fury.

[Hatchet] He looks down the block as Katherine roars two words at Genevre. His eyes, as pale as Eleanor's though free of the storm that clouds her gaze, fix on the distant blonde who shares his moon. Hatchet watches Kate snarl at Genevre and begin to stalk away, watches Genevre snap back at her, and his eyes go not to Edward -- to say what he'd been thinking since he first saw the man again -- and not to Eleanor -- to comment on how quiet she is, as he'd thought he might -- but to Daniel.

He says nothing. He doesn't gesture. The entire pack hears, however, just how firm his next thoughts are:

We're leaving.

Perhaps oddly, Hatchet looks at Edward then and gives him a nod. It's respectful. It's the only thing he's done so far tonight that is. "Yuf," he says, and to Eleanor: "Miss," because he's forgotten her name.

He crosses the street, heading back towards the Brotherhood.

[Daniel Ingenssen] Daniel twists his head on his shoulders, popping the joint. The gesture is at once liquid and straining. Then he nods to the Fangs, offering not even a word of goodbye as he turns to follow his Alpha away.

[Eleanor Courtenay] The movement that accompanies Genevre's tantrum draws Eleanor's eyes. They widen and her fingers begin to anxiously comb through her long hair. The entire evening seemed more or less surreal, and Ellie was left trying to make sense of any of it as Edward and Hatchet shared quips back and forth before the latter turns to go. Relief flows through her body and her eyes lift up toward Edward.

"This is an odd city." Then, "If you care to assist Katherine I can see myself home." She says, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her coat.

[Theron Locke] Just blinks as the red hot fury is directed at hime. He goes to say something, but decides better of it at this point in time. The only thing left to do is follow after the seething Kate. He does shrink, not does he look proud, he appears resolute.

Genevre then speaks and says....oh gods what did she just say. Didn't your tongue already get you into trouble with two other of your Tribe. His eyes find Gen's and he just urges her to go.. that he will see her later.

But then he just turns and follows Kate into the alley way.. ready to accept hsi due.. for whatever it is that is so bad with what has happened.

[Katherine Bellamonte] (thanks for scene, folks! Let's wrap it there until the next act.)