Daniel Broken Hammer

[Delmar Meister] It was FUCKING cold! The kind of cold that turned sweat into frost. Well, no, maybe it wasn't. But it was the kind of cold that stiffened your jeans and made you walk with the horribly uncomfortable waddle of a man who would rather not see his inner thighs turn to shredded beef.

That's the walk Delmar was pulling off now. He was easy enough to spot considering he was too damn cold to bother being sneaky or witty, and considering the way he moaned as he shuffled down the sidewalk.

"Uhhhhhhhhh....uhhhhhhhhh....uhhhhhhhhhh...."

Wait, that wasn't moaning. That was the grumble of a distinct stammer. He shuffles awkwardly and quickly along the sidewalk, and before Drew can even be bothered to call out to him, he's tugging the front door the brotherhood open and diving inside. It was warmer in there, presumably. And perhaps his jeans would defrost, and save his crotch from a horrible fate.

[Drew Roscoe] Drew was bundled up appropriately for the cold, though many would argue that there's no such thing as appropriate against seven degrees fahrenheit. She wore her heavy red winter jacket with the fur-lined hood (rest assured, the fur is fake, she couldn't afford something nice enough for the real stuff) with a beanie, scarf, and gloves that matched, all a light blue. Granted she was wearing regular jeans and sneakers, but she knew the trick to thermal underwear. She was fairly cozy, for the most part.

She'd paused at the front door when she heard something that sounded like groaning, starting, falling away, then picking back up again. Her brows knit together uncertainly and she glanced over her shoulder, lifting a gloved hand to tug her hood back so she could see better. Someone in a hoodie was shambling up the sidewalk, and for half a second her mind flashed to zombie?, but settled when she realized that no, this was just an idiot that didn't know how to dress for the cold.

He would get close enough to snatch at the door, nearly having to bump her aside with a shoulder or hip to do so, and she'd finally get a chance to recognize his face. Pallid skin, light hair, big pale eyes. That was mister Low Key. He stumbled inside and she bit back a grin, grabbing the door after him and following suit. Inside there was a considerable wash of warmth, and immediately Drew pulled back her hood and started removing her hat and gloves, tucking them into her coat pockets. As she did, hovering behind Delmar, she addressed him.

"Well, at least your legs are working this time around."

[crow] ((Mind if I lurk a spell?))

[Drew Roscoe] [[ Lurk away. Or join. :) ]]

[Delmar Meister] Low Key heads for the bar the very minute he enters. And almost that same moment, Danny shoots him a worried, slightly nervous look.

"C'mon, man. You know better than that." Danny says. Its enough the get the hooded Fenrir to pause in his steps as he prepares to protest.

"Uhhhhhh..."

"Well, at least your legs are working this time around." Says a voice behind him, and he seems pretty darn slow to finally turn around, pulling off his hood as he does and exposing the straw colored hair tied in a mess of random braids.

"Uhhhh...." He begins to say again, this time to Drew, and this time with a slowly growing smile on his face. "Well look what the cat uhhh...dragged in. You sure you supposed to be here, kid? Wouldn't want you gettin a spanking."

[Drew Roscoe] When Delmar turned around to address Drew, she was grinning up at him, the expression as warm as the drastic shift from outdoors to indoors had been. That was the appeal about her (aside from her blood howling of the frozen north, of course, even if it was only an echo compared to others). She wasn't jaw-droppingly beautiful, wasn't tall or leggy, her bust wasn't any fuller than what was typical. She didn't look exotic or dangerous. She looked like any other girl you'd find in a college classroom, or sitting on the bleachers in the cold to faithfully cheer on her campus football team. But her personality shined, she was cute and that made you want to keep her around. It was way too easy to like her.

She was unwinding the heavy scarf from her neck when he mentioned spankings, called her kid, and one eyebrow lifted before she parried him with a smirk and started to unzip her jacket, showing a simple gray thermal shirt on underneath. "First of all, I wouldn't be surprised if I'm actually older than you, kid. Secondly, since when did you team up with Joe 'n Thomas on the 'Let's keep Drew at home so she's safe!' train? They seem to be recruiting these days. You met that Daniel guy yet? Real piece of work."

[Delmar Meister] "I'm only in it for the spankings. And Uhhhh...Who? Daniel? Never heard of him. I been kindahhhhhh...busy with other stuff."

Other worlds, but lets not confuse the poor kin.

"Say you uhhhh....wanna get something to eat? My treat."

[Drew Roscoe] "You wish," was the simple dismissal on the joke about spankings. That felt about as likely to be played along with or picked up as bait to flirt as it felt likely that Drew would suddenly tremor and pull a turnaround and throw a First Change in everyone's faces. She glanced over to the tall, lanky red-haired kid at the bar and wondered for a minute what that boy's natural hair color was, then looked back to Delmar when his voice pulled her back to focus.

"Daniel's....ah... Family, I suppose. Stodgy as hell. He makes Thomas look like a stand-up comedian, you know?" And he offered to buy food, which had her lifting an eyebrow and glancing him up and down briefly before settling her eyes on his face once more. She was shrugging out of her coat and folding it over her arms, held against her chest. Her hair was mussed from her hat, but that was no different than anyone else in here.

"Your treat? You can't even buy yourself a proper coat and hat."

[Delmar Meister] "Ey! I uhhhh...don't wanna mess up my hair, that's all." And he ran a hand through his chaotic locks as if to prove, or disprove, his point.

"And I have a coat but uhhh...I left it upstairs. Was just supposed to uhhhhh...get a pack of smokes. I uhhhhh...didn't think it'd be this bad."

At the mention of upstairs, Danny clears his throat loudly and casts a pointed look to Delmar. He int turn, shrugs, and taps Drew on the shoulder. "C'mon, you uhhhh...hungry or what?"

[crow] ((Maybe I will throw in, if nobody minds...?))

[Drew Roscoe] [[ Come on in! ]]

[Edwin Morr] ((Dex + Stealth + Fox, diff = 6, specialized))
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 5, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6) Re-rolls: 3

[Drew Roscoe] The kid at the bar was giving Delmar significant looks, trying to put weight in his gaze that simply didn't exist. Drew felt a little sympathetic for the guy, he looked like his spine was only good for holding that lanky body of his upright, and it didn't even do that efficiently. She knew a doormat when she saw one. But still, Delmar seemed to know how to take a hint, and he was tapping at Drew's shoulder and asking if she was hungry. She blinked, sniffed a little bit, and turned her eyes from the kid at the bar up to the kid with the crazy blonde braids (what the hell was up with those, anyways?).

"Huh. And you didn't turn around two steps out the door." She chuckled and nodded, a quick one-two bob of her head. "Yeah, sure, why not. Skipped breakfast like an idiot, overslept and Basil was going to eat my feet if I didn't take him out for a run immediately. Insistent little shitbeast anyways."

[Edwin Morr] Perhaps Delmar would notice it first, the sense of something familiar at the edges of his senses. Perhaps he would even start to look around, to find whatever it was that seemed so familiar.

Perhaps he would happen to realize where there had been thin air before, there was now a sharp featured and forgettable man sitting at the bar, a bottle of Jack Daniels liberally being poured into a shot glass, and Danny none the wiser.

The man was clad simply, a brown denim work coat, blue jeans of some shade easily found at any chain store, be it Wal-Mart, Target, or the like. A flannel button up shirt of black, gray, and red, and a pair of well worn hiking boots...

A navy baseball cap cast his ever grinning facade in shadow, as eyes that could as easily be blue as gray turn to Delmar and Drew. His grin all but dripped trouble...

Still, there was something about him. Something shifty, something more... As though in being so utterly forgettable, he stood out. As though there was something in his blood that made him more than a man to be forgotten.

[Delmar Meister] "Uhhhh...what's a Basil? Know what? Nevermind, lets just uhhhh...get some chow."

And without any other need for encouragement, Delmar was turning back to the bar and easing his legs over a bar stool, patting the one next to him for Drew. Its soon after that he turns to his other side and nearly falls off his seat as the familiar flannel fellow is just suddenly 'there' where he hadn't been before.

"Oh Shit!" he exclaims in mock fright, and his gaze turns upward suddenly, then back down on Edwin. "You uhhhh....fall outta the friggin sky or somethin'?"

[Broken Hammer] Down the stairs; footfalls soft. He lives here now. The Brotherhood is a den to him, and he has become intimately familiar with its dimensions and proportions. He knows, in a matter of days, which floorboards will creak, and which showers tend to run cold faster than the others. He knows the pattern of the cracks in the cellar concrete, and the stains on the ceiling from some longago burst pipe.

The kitchen doors open. Broken Hammer steps into the dining area, wearing what he always wears: one of the two whole changes of clothes he owns. Rumpled, faded jeans. A nondescript longsleeve pullover, cotton, washed so often that what logo it used to bear has flaked right off. No outerwear. He's not going out. His hands are loose at his sides and his shoulders are a little stooped. He looks wary, and savage. It's not hard to see why he's been mistaken for a wolfborn before, or, to someone's grief, a metis.

The restaurant is open today, but largely deserted. Too cold. Too snowy. People don't drive out this far in this weather just for the baked goods and Saint Jenny's stew special. Daniel doesn't pause to consider if he would be interrupting. He heads straight for his people, his tribemate and kin, the children and half-children of Great Fenris.

[Drew Roscoe] "Basil's my dog. Still kind of a pup. In that stage where he's big as a damn house but thinks he's like a Maltese or something instead." He said nevermind, she explained anyways. A gesture and he was ushering them over to the bar, which apparently doubled as an eating area. Here rather than a table, for some reason or another. She didn't quite understand, but didn't protest either. Just followed on over.

Delmar tossed a leg over a stool and sat down, patting one next to him for Drew. She laid her coat down over top of the stool, tossed her scarf over her shoulders but didn't wrap it about her neck so that she wouldn't get too stuffy, and climbed on up. Yes, she climbed, her feet had to find the bottom rung before she had enough height to get herself comfortably up onto the seat. By the time she was settling down, though, Delmar was yelping an exclamation and someone had materialized in what must have been a literal blink of the eye beside him, which in turn scared the bajesus out of poor Drew.

Sure, she put up a wonderful front and did a great job of moving on, but still, you get abducted and held captive in a barn over the weekend chained up to a wall, see how solid your nerves are.

A hand jumped out to clasp the sleeve of Delmar's hoodie, perhaps so that she wouldn't fall right off her stool, and her other hand jumped up to her chest, like she might have to catch her heart in case it literally jumped from her chest. Breathe... Breathe. It's okay, whoever that guy is he's not attacking or anything. Low Key just overreacted and that's what scared the hell out of you.

(That's right, place blame.)

She let go of his sleeve only to swat him in the arm, took another deep breath, and shook her head, half-stammering in a breathless tone. "J-jesus, Low Key..."

[Edwin Morr] "Sum'in' like dat."

Edwin chuckles, downing another shot of the Jack Daniels as Danny's eyes turn to him.

"How many of those have you had?"

"Oh, lessee... Hard ta tell. Seems like jes' th'one."

Edwin starts to chuckle darkly, as Danny retrieves the bottle and puts it away behind the bar. At the far end, away from Edwin...

Meanwhile, Edwin's gaze remains focused on Delmar and Drew.

"So, Delmar... Who's yer frien's?"

The gaze glances over to where Broken Hammer now approaches as well, still grinning that lopsided grin.

[Ezra Turk] *Rat. tat-tat-tat-tat. Rat. tat-tat-tat-tat. Knobby white fingers jab along the doorframe as he enters the Brotherhood like any other normal patron. Through the front door. He stands siloutted in the light a moment, hair waving crazily atop his head. Black eyes seeking out the corners, the dark places of the room, as though searching for assassins in the shadows. A sly smirk as he notes two familiar figures at the bar. Delmar and Broken Hammer noted and accounted for. Ezra approaches, fingers tapping on his slacks.*

Well imagine that...

*He rasps in a voice better left silent. Though to who precisely he's speaking is a question in and of itself. He leans causally at the bar, all cockiness.*

Hello Again.

[Delmar Meister] The languid response from Edwin, the stuttering swat from Drew, all these things only add to the hilarity of the situation. At least in Delmar's mind, that is. And he lets it fall out with a slap on the table and a soft chuckle.

"Who's your friens?" Edwin asks, and he turns to jut a thumb in Drew's direction.

"This here's uhhhhhh....Drew. Drew this is uhhhhhh...Edwin."

And with that explains he turns on his stool to face Daniel, who seemed content to simply be close to them. Pale eyes flick from top to bottom, and a swift motion of his hands moved an errant braid of blond and brown hair out of his line of vision. In the end he just shrugs those narrow shoulders under that over sized black hoodie.

"Uhhhhhh..." He begins to say, but seems to stall out. Its something he did quite often actually. "I don't know who that guy is."

[Broken Hammer] Daniel doesn't bother to greet his tribesman, nor the Shadow Lord. The Forseti's eyes are black and sharp as a flint arrowhead. They cut to Edwin, then to Ezra, then back.

His body language speaks for him, though. Where he stands, and how: his position close to the Fenrir and the kin of Fenris; hands loose and ready; body angled to face the others. In his single-layer shirt, his body is narrow and compact, sinewy-tough.

A blink: a single camera-quick flicker of his eyelids. Then he speaks for himself. "Broken Hammer, Cliath and Forseti, of Fenris and of Bear."

[Broken Hammer] (ignore the reference to Ezra. wrote that before i realized Ezra's over the playtest deadline)

[Ezra Turk] (Alrigh! duckin out!)

[Drew Roscoe] Daniel seemed to jump out of the gears as well, manifesting a few feet away mid-approach. The girl watched him for a second, clicked her incisors together, then had her focus drawn back to the Ragabash duo when her name was brought up.

Drew, meet Edwin.

The Kinfolk leaned forward against the counter, flashing a bright smile to the Shadow Lord and lifting a hand in a small wave to him. "Nice to meet you." Not necessarily, but it was polite to pretend. She rolled her shoulders forward, pushed them back and pushed her chest forward next, stretching out her back and forcing away some of the tension that had piled up suddenly from the scare Edwin and Delmar combined had caused her. Daniel joined the pow-wow, doing that thing he did where he spoke a little too openly about who and what he was.

Danny cut him a bit of a look, but kept quiet. Drew did the same, though her eyes lingered a little longer before falling to the other Garou instead of pretending she didn't notice.

[Edwin Morr] "Nice ta meetcha too, Drew."

Edwins grin widens, eyes flitting to where the bottle of Jack Daniels made off to. They then turn to Broken Hammer.

"An' you's well, Broken Hammer-yuf."

Where Broken Hammer seems ready to leap into combat against the Shadow Lord, Edwin seems the very image of calm. He slouched in his seat, his elbows upon the bar with one thumb idly scratching at some grit stuck beneath the nail of the other. The empty shot glass sits before him, standing as a silent sentinel much straighter and more rigid than it seemed Edwin ever would be.

The lopsided grin never leaves his features.

"I'm more'n happy ta give ya th'long form in... Well... places 'thout walls wit' ears dis prev'lent."

[Delmar Meister] "Uhhhhh..." Delmar (sort of) said nervously with eyebrows that have leaped up high on his brow. They settle before he turns to Edwin, then even lower before he turns back around, facing Danny.

"Y'know Danny, I uhhhhh...think I'll have some of that stew today."

And with his order made he turns on the stool to face the Fenrir once again, this time hopping off the stool.

"Delmar Meister. Rotagar. Uhhhhhh...Good to meet you, Brother."

And a skinny hand with knobby knuckles gets extended toward Daniel.

"Edwin's right. Maybe we should all uhhhhhhh...go upstairs."

[Broken Hammer] There's a lot to indicate that Broken Hammer is not, as they say, from around here. There's a lot to indicate he simply isn't human. A sense of preternatural alertness hangs around him. He stands too still, too balanced; he's too aware; his eyes are too direct, as though no one had ever taught him it's impolite to stare.

Reminded of the human ears in the establishment -- blessedly few today, what with the weather and all -- Broken Hammer's eyes flick around. Then back. Then to Delmar. Rage rides under his skin like a loop of lightning, crackling and sparking, more than a Half Moon should bear. For all that, his stillness is absolute.

Until, of course, he moves, seizing Delmar's forearm and gripping it, briefly, in a show of greeting. Then he nods once.

"Upstairs," he affirms, and turns to go that way.

[Delmar Meister] "Upstairs" the new Fenrir (Who was even newer than Delmar, so that made it a feat) had confirmed. Del smirked at his retreating form, then turned that smirk to Edwin and Drew.

"Well. Uhhhhhh...you heard the man."

And he followed through the kitchen doors on his way upstairs.

[Edwin Morr] ((I wasn't done with the liquor...

Dex + Stealth + Fox, diff = 6))
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 4, 4, 5, 5, 5, 8, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Edwin Morr] Edwin, for his part, shrugs and stands. Still slouching, moving in that overly smooth and hard to follow way as he made his way to the steps.

His hands find the pockets of his coat, as Edwin's grins lopsidedly...

En route, he happens to pass where Danny had placed the bottle of Jack Daniels... With a wide grin, a hand leaps out to snag it, as Danny's attention was directed toward Broken Hammer. It magically disappears, cradled against the inside of his forearm, shielded from view by the work coat.

Then, he merrily follows the others up the stairs, content to be the straggler of the group, a hand absently removing the strange hamster bottle feeder thingie bars put on the end of liquor bottles.

[Drew Roscoe] Drew was doing a pretty good job of being quiet and observant today, it seemed, content to let the big kids talk (were any of them older than her anyway? Sure, Low Key had a face like a Boston Terrier but he felt young. She wasn't so sure about the other two, though) and just soak any of it in that she could catch. She couldn't afford to play the ignorance card for very long, she felt like she'd been through too much, too close to this world for too long to have that excuse anymore. Imogen told her that she had picked up on most of it, but still... things would come up in conversation that would leave her stumped still. Like mention of a Bawn. What the hell was that?

...Oh. Looks like they're moving. Everyone had stood up, Delmar had glanced back and nodded for her to come along, and everyone was moving toward the kitchen. Drew looked to Danny, who shifted his gaze from the other Danny (that's Daniel to you, Kin of the Children) to meet the littlest Fenrir's eyes. She lifted her brows in question, he shrugged and rolled his head in indication after the group, and Drew took that as permission from an employee to go ahead.

As though three monsters leading the way wasn't enough for her. Her coat was gathered up against her chest and she slid down off the stool to follow along after the three, trailing several feet behind.

[Delmar Meister] The clamor of the kitchen, even on a slow day, was constant. Luckily they were only briefly exposed to that brand of chaos. Soon the troop is on their way up the stairwell into the 'upstairs' portion of the Brotherhood that Delmar had reffered to, and gotten the stink eye for.

Unnecessary, if you asked him. Not like people couldn't tell there was an upstairs from looking outside. But they couldn't tell what that upstairs consisted of, which as they enter, seems to be mostly a play room. Game tables along the far wall, couches and comfortable seating near the center. This is what Delmar heads for, slumping himself down on a couch and nudging himself into a comfortable, well used corner.

"You ever uhhhh...been up here, Drew? If not, lemme be the uhhhhhh...first to say: Welcome to the Brotherhood!"

[Edwin Morr] The liquor in the bottle sloshes with a slight clinking sound as the No Moon sprawls contentedly in one of the empty chairs upstairs. He slouched as a rule, moreso now that he was seated... And the lopsided grin became that much more genuine and troublesome.

The shaded gaze moves to where Delmar welcomed Drew to the upstairs.

"'Tain't so cozy's some places, but 'tain't uh bad place ta hang out an' talk shop."

[Drew Roscoe] The quartet migrated through the doors that separated the kitchen from the dining floor of the restaurant, and Drew took a moment to pause and look over the mechanics behind the scenes. Very nice set up. The proprietor of The Brotherhood must have been rolling in the dough. Nice big ovens, stainless steel tables to work on, plenty of room, nice open floorplan. It was much nicer in here than at The Artisan, where the kitchen was cramped, but they made due with corners and an L-shaped kitchen that felt more like a lower class atmosphere until you smelled the delicacies being whipped up.

Some pretty blonde woman with a smile to match Drew's in how approachable it was looked up, watched the group, then smiled at Drew. Drew smiled back and waved, and Jenny gestured with a knife, indicating that the crew had already started up the stairs. Getting sidetracked here was easy. Drew turned her head, made a face, and trotted on up the stairs after them, catching up to Delmar's heels near the top of the staircase.

The stairway opened up to a large room with couches, plush seating pillows, game tables, a television... It felt exactly like the student lounges on campus. It was uncanny. She found herself looking for work desks and expecting to find people with backpacks curled up on benches, passed out between classes. No such thing, but there were pool tables. Nice. She was staring at those when Delmar and Edwin piped up, and she looked to Edwin when he sprawled in a chair like he was at home, then to Delmar when he welcomed her all official and such.

"Nah, I haven't." She chuckled a bit and adjusted the big poofy red jacket that she was carrying against her chest. "Thomas and Joe tell me to avoid this place, typically. I wanted to see what the fuss was about."

[Edwin Morr] "Well, dere's fuss ta be had'n spades 'roun' here. Ain't been uh day if'n somebody ain't got all hopped up on indignation'n righteous fury.

Still, like fools we keeps comin' back. An' folk do gossip sum'in' fierce out'n th'common room here.

As uh side note, bes' steer clear uh th'rooms o'er yonder. Dem's mixed quarters 'tween garou an' some kin."

The liquor clinks again, as Edwin raises the bottle to his lips, unmoving otherwise from his boneless slouch.

[Delmar Meister] "Uhhhhhh, well aint you the naughty girl. But that's probably just cuz uhhhh...they're not here to watch out for ya. Best uhhhhh...best to avoid trouble, y'know? Some sleazy Shadow Lord uhhhh...pinches your ass, we may just have to kill him."

Here he leans forward, angling a hand in front of his face as if to make his statements private and conspiratorial.

"And lemme tell you uhhhh...lemme tell you somethin' about Shadow Lords: They can't be trusted. Not a one."

With a wry grin on his face he leans back again, placing his hands behind his head.

"So uhhhhh, its probably best to just keep you uhhhh...away from 'em. Or anybody else. You uhhhh...know what I mean?"

[Edwin Morr] Edwin starts chuckling as Delmar speaks to his more endearing qualities. Then, as Delmar finishes, Edwin grins that lopsided grin before answering.

"An' den where would Delmar here git uh laugh from? Ain't like comics's droppin' from th'sky in our li'l gene pool.

As fer trust, Delmar's right's rain on dat score. But don't hold fer jes' me'n mine... Yer best served trustin' nob'dy. It's honest folks whose betrayals tend ta have th'most teeth.

Dat said... I ain't so bad ta hang 'roun' from time ta time. Downright agree'ble, more of'n 'n not."

[Drew Roscoe] Drew was leaning forward some, posture suggesting that she wanted to move, to get out of the doorway and explore the common room, acclimate herself a little better-- or, more specifically, go play with the pool tables. She'd moved her jacket from holding it with her arms pinned to her chest to grasping it with her hands, a sign that she was about to go put it down somewhere, when Delmar leaned in and faux-whispered to her about Shadow Lords and how they're keen on pinching asses.

The Kinfolk gave Delmar an expression that was a mutt between genuinely lost (like a joke had flown over her head) and deadpan. She glanced over to Edwin, back to Delmar, then simply shook her head and murmered a vague: "Whatever," before moving further into the common room. Her coat was tossed over the back of the sectional sofa as she moved past it, sweeping over to the pool tables.

She'd stop in front of one and crouch down, knees bent outward, to examine it, figure out if it would beg for quarters or if there was another trick to finding the balls.

[Delmar Meister] "Its true. Uhhhhh....Dry wit abounds in the Nation. Humor is a uhhhhh...commodity."

Nodding, he turns to Edwinwith a look on his face as if he'd just had an epiphany.

"So uhhhh...so that's why I haven't killed you yet."

Drew was checking out the pool tables, circling around and trying to figure out if she could get a free game out of it.

"You rack I'll break" Delmar says, and he's throwing his legs and swining into a sudden upright position. "You uhhhh...you playin, Trace?" He asks. But he's already fetched the pool cues and is handing one to Edwin, which made asking more like telling.

[Broken Hammer] Broken Hammer, who has been silent since ascending to the second floor, suddenly speaks up at that.

"Is that what the Fenrir of this protectorate have sunk to? Idle jests about killing another of Gaia."

[Edwin Morr] Then, upon Delmar's statement, he grins slyly and shrugs, before speaking absently.

"An' here I thought 'twas m'looks..."

Taking the pool cue in his free hand, Edwin stands and makes his way over to the side of the pool table... Setting the bottle of Jack Daniels on a nearby ledge. The shaded gaze turns to Broken Hammer.

"Easy now... He ain't meant nuthin' by't. An' like I said... Awful lotta folk runnin' 'roun' wit' all dat Rage... Means an awful lotta folk whut could git kilt needless if'n we all gits thin skinned...

'Sides... He ain't pack alpha yet."

[Delmar Meister] He leaned against the pool cue when Daniel spoke up. And for a second all trace of humor is gone from his face. His eyes settle on the Forseti. Then down on himself, at his hands as they grip the pool cue loosely. His gaze travels to Edwin, his packmate. The first in the city to reach out to him and not the other way around. And then, his gaze turns back to Drew.

"See what I mean?"

[Drew Roscoe] Drew discovered a shelf that had the game balls for each of the tables stacked in little triangle trays on the shelves underneath, with a lamp on top, pool cues set up beside. Delmar collected the cues, passing one to her, then one to Edwin. Drew let her cue rest against the wall and moved to one end of the table, setting up the balls in the way she remembered her father teaching her-- a solid in one back corner, a stripe in the other, eight ball in the middle. Everything else was consequential.

Daniel finally spoke up, and she blinked and glanced over to him. She'd nearly forgotten that he was here in the excitement of a pool game when all she thought she was doing was picking up an application for employment. Edwin spoke up, Drew glanced to him and bit at her lip, completely void of the split that had been in it yesterday mind you. Delmar leaned in, spoke up-- See what I mean?

Drew looked back up to him and nodded, rolled the triangle around a little, positioning, then lifted it leaving the table racked appropriately. She slid the triangle past her hand to the crook of her elbow and turned to look at Daniel, one eyebrow lifting.

"You, buddy, gotta unwind. Ever play pool?"

[Broken Hammer] Instantly Broken Hammer's direct, dark gaze is on Edwin. "It is not," says the dour-faced, bone-hard young Forseti, "for the son of Thunder to say what is and what is not acceptable for a Fenrir to say."

He starts to turn to Delmar -- wheels, instead, on Drew.

"Silence, girl!"

A beat. Then, finally, he addresses the Rotagar again. "We are a tribe of strength and honor, whether your moon is full or new. We do not fear death, whether giving or receiving. But we will not speak frivolously of it. If you were at the moot, then you know I know the price of fratricide, Meister. It is not one you want to pay."

[Edwin Morr] Edwin's shaded gaze is level, narrowed, and dark... His hands finding his pockets as he speaks.

"Nor is't fer you ta go pickin' fights wit' m'packmate over uh private discussion, -yuf... Such thangs ain't yer terr'tory; Low Key's my packmate.

An' I'll take any trouble ya stirs up wit' 'im over how th'Bogeymen goes talkin' ta one 'nuther as trouble yer stirrin' wit' th'whole pack, not jes' him."

Edwin waits a beat... Maybe more... Before turning away.

"Y'all have fun..."

And with that, he moves to the stairs that lead further up toward the roof... Disappearing as soon as he leaves view.

((Dex + Stealth + Fox, diff = 6, specialized [wp]))
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6) Re-rolls: 2

[Edwin Morr] ((Blur of the Milky Eye

Manipulation + Stealth + Fox, Diff = 8))
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 4, 8, 8, 8, 9 (Failure at target 8)

[Edwin Morr] ((Okay, here's the deal.

Edwin's walked off, but he hasn't left exactly. If Delmar and Broken Hammer get into it, he would intercede.

He's going to hang out in the shadows for right now and make sure that it doesn't come to that until Delmar leaves.))

[Broken Hammer] (alright, i just gotta try to counterroll that *LOL*)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Edwin Morr] ((thanks for the rp, folks. I gotta go. *wave* Later!))

[Delmar Meister] Delmar's rounded shoulders...un-round. His hunched back...un-hunches. The slender pool cue that he'd previously used for support gets raised a few inches off the ground and thumped back down at the same moment that a huff errupts from from the fenrir's lungs.

"Let me...ask you, brother. Do you think I'm weak if I...speak softly?"

Those eyes, so usually filled with mirth, have turned cold. They've also turned hard, like shards of ice pointed at the Forsetti. His lungs fill, his chest swells, and he releases it again.

"Do you think I'm a f-...fool because I laugh and...smile?"

Both hands work into fists now. One on the Pool cue, the other like a ready rock by his side. And somehow, the Rotagar stands taller still, straightening out every inch of spine within him. He stands tall and proud. And while he may not have been the largest specimen, or the strongest of warriors, there was little doubt that the blood that flowed through him was Fenrir blood.

"I am Low Key. Son of Eats the Wind. Grandson of Earth Hand. Get of F-Fenris, through and through. I am my father's firstborn son. My enemies fall by my grandfather's hammer even to this day, as his blood runs through my veins. And I am proof that our tribe is not the w-words we speak, but the things we do."

The rock by his side shoots up, and from it extends a single finger leveled at the Forseti, and held in line with his glowering brow.

"You'll judge me by my a-actions, Brother. Not my words. Just like your a-actions are what you've been judged by."

[-1 wp to keep the stammering down]

[Drew Roscoe] Drew's brows drew together when Daniel barked at her, the traditionalist version of 'shut your whore mouth when the men are talking'. However, despite what might be expected of her, she didn't start yelling, exclaiming that he had no right to talk to her like that, so on and so forth. Rather, she glanced to Edwin, then to Delmar when he... 'unfurled' was a good word for it, Drew thought. Drew up straight and strong, held the pool cue rather than leaned on it, and curled hands to fists with what she thought to be effort to keep that strange 'uhhh' thing he did shoved down.

Teeth clipped at the soft flesh inside her cheek, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, just once though, and was still, stiff, and cautious. Watching, ready to intervene if she figured she had to.

And what the hell are you gonna do to stop 'em fighting if they want to, huh?
Shhhh, logic, shhhh.

[Broken Hammer] Both of them here are so far from the ideal of Fenrir. None of them in this city right now don't come close to the images of ash-blond man-wolves in furs and leathers that that word conjures. None of them are towering and nordic, with bodies carved by war and war alone; none of them speak the old tongues of their ancestors, long dead in the world of men.

Yet they are Fenrir. Delmar, stammering and stooped; Broken Hammer, lean to gauntness, with black eyes that burn with ferocity and hate and shame by turn.

The Forseti gives the Rotagar his attention, for what it's worth. He looks directly at him, his eyes flicking from eyes to mouth and back again as the No-Moon struggles to hold back the stammer that, quite possibly, makes most the world think him half an idiot. Broken Hammer looks at the finger, too, as it's extended.

And then, with surprising gentleness, he takes that hand. Folds the finger back into Delmar's palm. Firms his grip, and levels his eyes on his tribe-brother.

"It is a human's trick to pretend words and action are wholly separate. Have you stood in the presence of our mightiest Skalds, brother? Can you tell me their words do not stir your heart as much as the smell of blood, the sight of battle ever did?

"Words have power. Any Skald, any Godi, any Fenrir can tell you that. Words are promises. They are pacts. They are your word. When a Fenrir says he will protect you, he will lay down his life for you. When a Fenrir says he will kill you, you will die.

"That is the way of our people. And others will hold you to that standard, even if you do not."

A beat.

"Nevertheless, I did not know he was your packmate. I apologize. I will not interfere further in the affairs of your pack."

[Joss Lehrer] Roast beef sammiches.

That's what brings her to the brotherhood when she doesn't have any real reason to be there - Jenny's roast beef sammiches. Which is exactly what she has on her plate as she climbs the stairs to the second floor, where she can enjoy a beer with her sammich without anyone wondering just how old she is.

She's dressed as she's always dressed - from flats to skirts to sweater, though because it's cold outside, she's added a scarf and mittens too - the latter of which are tucked in the godi bag that hangs at her hip. Both are hand knitted, and recently arrived from home - and BRIGHT ASS PINK.

And she walks right in on the little tiff, and it's shockingly calm end. For her part, she settles to the couch to sit, with just a wave for the others in the room as she opens her beer and takes a healthy swig. It's 5pm somewhere, right?

[Delmar Meister] There's a tension, a mild resistance in that hand. Delmar's brows still weighed heavy over his eyes and he glowered unhappily at the fellow Fenrir as he spoke. But, he did relent. He let the other man have his say, and when it was all said.

Delmar's breath was hot, and he let it all out in a slow, steady deflation of both posture and mood. He turns to the female kin, and then to the place his packmate should have been, finding yet another Fenrir instead. Finally, he turns back to Daniel.

"Uhhhh..." He starts again, after having focused himself into resisting the impulse. "Don't sweat it, brother. You uhhhh...playin, or what?"

And simple as that, he angles the pool cue toward the Forseti, then turns a questioning look to Joss.

"We could make it uhhhh...two on two."

[Drew Roscoe] A bit of the tension slid away from Drew's shoulders when Daniel approached Delmar slowly, calmly, not violently. She'd lifted a hand to her mouth without realizing it, started gnawing at her thumbnail while she watched the two Fenrir nervously. Another had moved into the room, and her eyes slipped over to spot and identify Joss. The Serious one that she hadn't shared many words with besides a 'You're Joe's girl, huh?' and scolding for leaving a mess in a night club. She knew that she was Family, though, that counted for something, right?

Delmar glanced back to her, then away, looking for someone who seemed to have vanished-- the sneaky guy with the Jack Daniels bottle.

For her part, Drew remained quiet, even when Delmar invited the 'Foresti' (whatever that was) to play, along with the girl with dreadlocks. Her thumb stayed at her mouth, caught between teeth, and while she wasn't coiled painfully with tension, she still hadn't relaxed back to normal just yet either.

[Broken Hammer] The basic human socialization that would tell him that holding another man's fist like that for any period of time is odd, is unusual behavior, is strictly taboo in the Guy Code, is entirely missing from Daniel. He lets go only now, and only to look at the extended pool cue for a moment.

He looks puzzled. He takes it the way one might take a spear, right in the middle, balanced.

"I don't know how," he replies. And then he holds the cue out to Joss instead, who he recognizes the same way he recognized Delmar and Edwin -- as faces from the moot. "Rhya."

[Joss Lehrer] She gestures at Daniel with a grin. "Just Joss is fine. No need for formality here."

She takes a quick bite of her sandwich and hops up to take the cue with a warm smile. She's not you're typical Fenrir, for sure. Then again, she's Godi. And weird.

"Take the break, Delmar. Game's simple - Broken Hammer, wasn't it? What's your first name? - hit the white ball into the others balls with the stick and aim for the pockets. The break will decide if you aim for stripes or solids - and the black ball is last. Get it in before that and you lose."

She tosses a wink at the clearly worried Drew and a quick. "Heya."


(gotta run my kid to town quickly, Joss'll play her turns between bites and I'll hop back in soon as I get back)

[Delmar Meister] Delmar remains silent as he fetches his own pool cue having given his own away. There's still a seriousness in his eyes as he circles the table, casting neither favor nor displeasure at Drew's method of racking them. He starts the far edge, lines the cue in the crook of his fingers, and lowers his body parallel to the table, all while Joss explains the game to Daniel.

There's chaos in his eyes. Displeasure and murder. He might be just be really serious about playing pool, or he might still be pissed about the earlier conversation.

But slowly, there's a twinkle. And a light. And a smile. "Balls' He mutters, just before the pool cue strikes out swift and firm, and the impact of the cue ball scatters all the rest about the table.

[Broken Hammer] Daniel startles visibly when the cue ball crack!s into the others, sending them scattering all over the table in a kaleidoscope of color. The Forseti's eyes are everywhere, trying to follow every trajectory, every ball. When finally everything comes to a stop, he's frowning.

And then he simply passes the cue to Drew. "I'll watch," he announces.

(gotta take off, guys -- back later tonight!)