Daniel Broken Hammer

[Hatchet] This makes him frown. It doesn't take much to understand why: Liadan is his friend. Occasionally his lover. Always his kinswoman, a part of his territory, a part of his protectorate, a part of his blood. Talks of locks and ordinary bad guys makes his brow furrow deeply.

Which is an unnerving sight and then some. No one else currently occupying the dining room has any rage at all. The kinfolk who work here seem at least somewhat used to the man, give him a wide berth but do not ignore him if he looks their way or gestures for their attention, which... doesn't happen much. He doesn't need a whole lot, once they give him his beer and his food. So they don't bother him, and he doesn't throw them into walls, which is what they are convinced will happen if they get within three feet of him.

The moon is gibbous. Worse, it's waning. Soon enough it will be in his birth phase, the time when he avoids kinfolk entirely if he can, the time when he focuses his attention on hunting the wyrm to its efficient destruction. If his packmates think that they are lectured usually, they find their behavior even more closely scrutinized on the waning half-moon. For three days a month, Hatchet is a Judge who knows almost no mercy.

Tonight, though, he's just a creature of rage and hunger and the temptation to intemperance. Which is what he is most of the time.

"I'll get rid of it," he says, as far as the key goes. Then: wine. His eyebrow flicks up, brass-colored, a bit coppery in the firelight. Lee turns to the brothers, and his pale eyes follow her. He doesn't wave. He stares at Aaron for a moment, though.

[Aaron] Aaron is nonplussed by his younger brother's appraisal, he studies his own menu with a frown of concentration a moment, idly commenting: "I got to know Lee [he remembered her name, that's flattery for you] the other night, she's pretty cool. Dunno who her friend is, though."

He knows what, without commenting on it.

Aaron's blue eyes raise to meet his brother's as their drinks are brought across, and he makes his selection of steak with vegetables, lots of them if Lacie would be so kind as to relay that to the cook. "You waved to them, you must be on semi-friendly terms with one of them." He catches sight of Lee's wave, of the non-human's stare. That attracts his attention and he adopts a friendly, Ethan-like expression and lifts a hand to wave back.

[Ethan] "Well, I--"

He isn't paying a great deal of attention to the pair by the fire now that he has his brother right in front of him, the older twin's antics clearly enough to keep the single father occupied to the point of missing out on what's going on around him. It isn't until he smiles and waves across the dining room that it dawns on Ethan that one of the pair had waved first, and then he turns around and looks again.

When they left each other several days ago, lunch completed and more information about each other gleaned by simple lack of pressure and questions than anything else, Ethan had not asked Lee if they would be seeing each other again, had not said that they should do that again sometime. He had thanked her for lunch, and then they had headed off on their separate ways, miles away from considering each other friends but perhaps not feeling quite so isolated in the wake of all that has happened last month alone.

He had left his business card on Hatchet's desk the other night, catching a look of wanting to speak in the Philodox's eyes but not sticking around to see what it was; there have been no calls on any of the numbers listed on that small piece of heavy paper.

That said, he can count on one hand the number of times he has interacted with either Lee or Hatchet. They are far from being referred to as an 'old friend,' and Ethan doesn't seem open enough or gregarious enough to toss the F word around indiscriminately.

Ethan and Aaron are very different people.

There's an expression of apology on Ethan's face as he looks towards Lee and Hatchet, and then he turns back around, toying with the edge of his menu before finishing his thought.

"Only name I've got for the man is Hatchet. He's Lee's warder, s'far as I can tell. I forgot to tell you... you made quite the impression on Nate Cross."

[Liadan] The thought of locks and ordinary bad guys makes Taggart frown, and no wonder. Lee is oddly flippant when it comes to her own safety and well-being. It's not that it doesn't matter to her whether she lives or dies. Clearly her actions in the face of Spirals and fomori are evidence of that. But it surprises her to find that others care that she stays alive for another day.

After she waves to the brothers, not knowing which of the two might have sent over the alcohol, Lee shakes her head. She has no idea why Aaron would try to imitate his brother. For the time being, the brothers stay at their table, and Lee and Taggart continue to occupy the chairs before the fire.

"Do you know them?" she asks, indicating the other table. She knows that Ethan stayed behind when she fled The Brotherhood a few days ago. She doesn't know if he stuck around long enough to make an impression on her friend.

[Aaron] He's Lee's warder.

Aaron is tonguing a molar, staring right back at Hatchet in a manner that he really probably ought not be least it be taken as some measure of challenge. Aaron knows that, he's been in this situation at least a handful of times if not more, hearing the word warder just cements it into his brain and he fully expects trouble; it's there in the way his handsome features shift and harden a touch; a smirking, sneering quality stealing across his face as he looks back to his brother and takes a swallow from his beer.

"Huh." And, a blank stare at mention of some dude he'd made an impression on: "I have no idea who the fuck that is, but alright. Did I beat him up or was this some tool I stole a girl from?" The calm, uncaring fashion he asks this is, you got the impression Aaron was frequently doing both.

[Ethan] There is a reason why Ethan Yates has been punched in the face more times than he can remember. That reason is 6'1", has brown hair and blue eyes, and a total disregard for other people's feelings or agendas. That reason looks just like another 6'1", brown-haired and blue-eyed man who can't read people to save his life but cares more than he ought to about how his words and actions affect them.

"I gather it was the latter," Ethan says, flipping the menu's page without really looking at it.

[Jason Daws] "HA ha!" An exclamation from the corner, followed by a fist punched into the air. And then a little: "Noooo... fuckin'...marshmallow..."

[Hatchet] He's utterly and completely fucking lost.

Aaron is looking at him apologetically and he's never met the man before. Ethan is waving and smiling and Hatchet's just not quite sure of what to make of that. Then staring at him, almost sneering, and he definitely doesn't know what to make of that, though it gets his back up a bit. So Lee asks if he knows them, and he turns back to her, a sort of vague confusion evident on his rather expressive features. "I've met Ethan."

Which is not saying: I've drunk Ethan under the table. My packmate kissed him. Apparently she thinks he checked out my ass. I haven't got laid since I don't know when.

Which is also not saying: Wait how do you know them?

"Are we going to drink the wine?" one Fianna asks the other. They're already having beer; they both know better. They both can handle more drink than most saner folk, though, too.

[Aaron] "Nate Cross, Nate Cross. Who...the fuck..." Aaron is muttering the stranger's name over and again, trying to make sense of it. There had been that night he'd met up with Lee, after a tussle outside some Pub with a drunk irishman who took offense at his pretending to be another native of his country.

But there had only been --

"Oh right. Yeah, Nate Cross. I remember him now, he's another one of them." He jerks his head in Hatchet's direction a touch aggressively, then leans back on his chair, hooking an arm around it. "Bone Gnawer though, if my memory continues to serve me as it is right now. He got his full blood panties in a knot because Lee decided to come home with me rather than him."

Aaron shakes his head and breathes out, he gestures at the menu. "You planning to order, or write a thesis on the menu?"

[Hatchet] Unfortunately, however, Hatchet does not wait for Lee to answer. His answer is No, apparently, because a moment later he's setting his plate aside on the table by his armchair. He swipes his napkin across his mouth, drops it to the side of said plate, and walks directly to Aaron.

The moon is too full for a kinsman to be staring at him. Hardening his visage and all but sneering at him. Jerking his thumb at him, talking about him over there. The moon is too heavy, and Hatchet's rage far too strong, for Aaron's behavior to be utterly ignored.

Especially because Hatchet thinks he's Ethan. And Ethan has always been rather personable before in their brief interactions.

That rage breaks like a wave over the twins when Hatchet approaches, his temper up, his hands slamming down on their table. "What the fuck is your problem?" he says immediately and flatly (and somewhat loudly) to Aaron, all but ignoring Ethan.

[Liadan] Lee doesn't get much of an answer from Taggart before he's setting his things aside and crossing to the table where two twins sit conversing.

The tall redhead doesn't rise to follow after him, to stop or stall or save anyone. It's not until he slams his hands onto the table that she rises. Unlike the real Ethan, she doesn't come up and offer an apologetic look. She doesn't offer anything at all, really, except a greeting to a man who might be on the way to being considered a friend.

"Hey. How's Micah?" she asks conversationally, as if her ragey friend is not currently snarling in the face of Ethan's brother.

[Jason Daws] Okay, okay, okay. So that Rage, passing on by, is enough to get Jason to ignore whatever's going on in his game and look cautiously around his booth to see what's going on around him, eyebrows furrowing. His game doot-doot-doots on without his attention, and he is quickly slaughtered by the Big Boss while Hatchet's hands go SLAM on two hapless young men's table.

[Ethan] Before Ethan can answer his brother, there is movement out of the corner of his eye. A very tall, very musculature, very angry Half Moon is striding towards them, and while Hatchet may be ignoring Ethan, Ethan is not ignoring Hatchet. He can't. While he isn't entirely caught off-guard by the slamming of a hand on the tabletop, that doesn't mean that it doesn't still have his heart in his throat, that it doesn't have him tensing in his seat and briefly struggling to control his breathing so that he can do something besides sit there like a log.

This isn't the first time that his brother has incensed a creature with terribly high Rage without even having to open his mouth. It's simply been a while.

As he's drawing a breath to speak, Lee is coming up to ask him about Micah. Ethan closes his mouth, swallows a lump out of his throat, and pushes back from the table.

"Hi, Lee," he says, in a voice that is distinctly different from Aaron's. Unless, of course, Aaron is mimicking him. But it ought to be recognizable as Ethan's voice, even to someone who has only met him a few times. "Micah's fine."

[Hatchet] [perception + alertness: let's pretend our hearing is better than our nose in homid, shall we?]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 5, 5, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Aaron] Aaron, unlike his brother, doesn't look apologetic as the fuming Half Moon approaches. He tenses, that much is clear in the way his jaw tightens, but he doesn't look away, or stop raising his beer glass to his lips.

Hatchet's hands slam down on the table and make the cutlery dance.

Aaron's eyebrows rise and he seems mildly amused if anything by this sudden show of temper; it's also clear with the manner his eyes scope out Lee, rising and making her way over in her guardian's wake that he believes the reason for the show of temper is because Hatchet has put two and two together and realizes he's been intimately acquainted with his ward.

Unlike his brother, Aaron's voice doesn't sound overly English. It's quieter, a far more subtle nuance of transatlantic upbringing that doesn't quite seem to settle anywhere. "Look, Lee and I were both consenting adults, there's really no need to get all barbaric about it. I assure you, I treated the lady well."

[Liadan] Aaron remembers Lee. He remembers her name, the taste of her skin, the feel of her hair twined round his fingers. He remembers the sound of her voice as she cried out for him.

Lee remembers...that yesterday she had a photoshoot in Bangkok, and before that she was in Tokyo. She remembers vaguely that she argued with Alex on the way to her apartment. She remembers the tension in the common room that lead to her leave before she'd had a proper conversation with her guardian and friend. She remembers things from before then, but with a bit less clarity. She does not devote her memory to remembering her sexual partners.

So when Aaron says, Lee and I were both consenting adults, the tall redhead with her thumbs hooked into the back pockets of her jeans suddenly shifts her attention from the brother she had lunch with to the brother speaking to Taggart.

"Wait, we were what?"

[Hatchet] A very tall, very muscular, very rage-filled Philodox is indeed more than a little intimidating. He has never laid a hand on Lee in anger, nor can she likely imagine him doing so, given how protective he is of her. He does not care if Ethan and Aaron are very attractive right now, though. He is quite aware that they don't belong to him. If anything, he's pretty sure they belong to Nate now, though he doesn't really know who exactly the Gnawer elder is in the city after Doodle's departure.

Not.

That's he been thinking about that.

His eyebrows tug tightly together. "What?" he says to Aaron, bewildered. Not angry. Not offended. Not even worried for Lee.

Who he glances at, the brace of his arms on the table slackening a bit. He looks at Aaron. Then Ethan. Then Aaron. Then Ethan.

"...I'm making you fuckers wear nametags," he mutters. But he doesn't punch either one of them. He doesn't make the other diners -- mortals and kin, all -- any more nervous than they were when his hands slammed on the table. There's Danny over behind the bar, watching him carefully, wondering if he's going to have to run upstairs and ask Hatchet's packmates to please, please get him to stop scaring the customers, please, if you guys would that would be so awesome, we don't want to go out of business.

Hatchet straightens, peering from one brother to the other. And then, oddly, he leans over and sniffs first one, then the other, his face just a few inches from each of them. Satisfied, he nods and turns, heading back to his own dinner.

[Aaron] Aaron hasn't gotten up, he's still sitting, appearing, for all intents and purposes, quite relaxed in light of all of this.
"Consenting adults, Líadan, a bhfuil an ghruaig na tine bheith sníofa agus óir agus bhí ainmnithe le haghaidh an file."

The Fianna might recognize the dialect his voice slides into like a silk sheet. Then Hatchet is leaning in and sniffing at him, and Aaron's expression turns to one of pure confusion. Jesus, but the Garou in this city were strange.

[Ethan] [Subterfuge+Manipulation: I Wanna Roll Dice Too!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Liadan] [percept + emp, I don't understand your words but how are you FEELING?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 6, 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Liadan] [NO!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Liadan] Lee recognizes the lilt and cadence of Aaron's words, but damned if she knows what any of it means when he gets past her name. That doesn't mean she can't read the look on his face as his blue eyes linger on her pale yet ordinary face.

Maybe Aaron expects to win her over with his words, with the seductive way he rolls the language of his homeland around his mouth. And she remembers, now, when he kissed her in an elevator.

Whatever he expects, Aaron's foreign statement and seductive demeanor earn him a frown.

"Ah, right. Well, uh. Thanks for the wine," she says, including both of them as she doesn't know which of them would have sent it over. "Ethan, if you don't mind, I'd like to have lunch with you again sometime."

[Daniel] When Hatchet turns away, Daniel is

right
behind
him.

Preternaturally quiet and alert, the Forseti looks from the twins to his Alpha, and back. He says nothing aloud. Totemic, though: Is there a problem?

[Ethan] Whether it's because Hatchet's tribesmen are running the place, or because the dining room is filled with people not of the Nation, or because he has finally figured out which brother has been staring at him and making faces from across the dining room this entire time, the Fostern does not lose his temper. It isn't until his arms slacken on the table and he straightens up that Ethan is able to relax somewhat, but he does, ultimately, relax. He had to have been fearing that he would have to decide whether or not to interfere with whatever violence might have been forthcoming. He doesn't know Hatchet from Adam, doesn't know just how much control over himself he actually has.

He has an idea. He's heard how loud he can get without giving off the impression that he actually is furious enough to snap. He hadn't been scared then, either, or at least not so much so that he couldn't leave his business card on the man's desk before he slipped out of the room and moved on with his evening.

Aaron is bewildered by Hatchet's leaning in to sniff at him, but Ethan doesn't jerk away or seem the slightest bit confused by the behavior. No, what Ethan seems like is a man who has been deprived of human--or, in his case, not-so-human--contact for far too long and isn't quite turned off by having a Rage-filled Philodox right in his personal space.

Quite the opposite, actually, and he's too rattled by what had happened immediately preceding it to pretend otherwise. When Hatchet steps back he breathes for what seems like the first time in several minutes, and he reaches up to run his hand down his face.

And then Lee speaks.

He gives her a smile, closed-lipped yet nonetheless genuine, and says, "That'd be great. Give us a call, then."

[Jason Daws] Jason scootches back into the recesses of his booth and seems to recall he has soup. He slurps some of that down greedily, shoulders up (kinda like hackles, but not). He's young, he's had a rough life, he rolls with the mood of the place and gets back to playing Assassin Ninja Death Fight: Land of the Bunny Men. Doot-doot-doot.

[Hatchet] So Hatchet pauses right where he is, the shorter Half-Moon standing right there. He doesn't seem surprised to see him, just cocks his head and peers rather irritably at Broken Hammer.

"I would have called you if there was," he says, part exasperated, and part genuinely displeased. He answers aloud to something no one else can hear, then jerks his head towards the fireplace. "I'm going to finish my dinner. Are you joining me or just being meddlesome?"

It's worth saying, especially now: Hatchet, as a rule, strikes most people as rather cranky. Call it his rage. His attitude. The level of detachment from others that he maintains when he is not suddenly, abruptly, surprisingly seeming to give a fuck what happens if only as an excuse to unleash his temper a bit. It's hard to tell. It always has been, and more than a few Garou and Kin alike have torn their hair and broken their hearts trying to understand the often and perhaps intentionally inexplicable Philodox.

He seems like he's pissed off at everyone in the room one moment. He seems like he's going to knock Aaron's head off his shoulders. And then he's annoyed with Daniel, or appears to be. But it waxes and wanes, that aggravated vibe, just as his rage seems to flow in and out, close and away, as though this constant up-and-down is the way he manages to keep any sort of internal balance.

He sidesteps the Forseti and heads back to his roast beef.

[Liadan] Lee glances over to watch as Hatchet goes back to his place by the fire. A waitress has arrived, glances around the room to see that Lee is still there before carefully setting her plate down on the table between the chairs and amidst four drinks.

She looks back when Ethan says that'd be great, and she smiles, genuinely pleased. There is no sign of attraction, no look of longing or desire when she says, "I will. Well, my food's there, so." For a moment she looks younger, more awkward. It passes, and she heads back across the room to the fire, to Taggart and his heavy rage, to her food and her drinks.

[Daniel] Broken Hammer doesn't immediately quail and back down, but nor does he meet Hatchet's eyes directly. In another form, his ears would have gone back; his tail low, but not tucked.

Despite that Hatchet answers him aloud, he continues across their totem bond. I'm being your packmate. In another tone, that could be snappish. It's not. It's level and, if anything, faintly mystified.

When Hatchet goes back to his dinner, Broken Hammer stays where he is for a moment, his dark eyes continuing to scrutinize the two kinsmen. He doesn't seem to care that this is horrendously rude; that he might be making them uncomfortable. After some time, some inner drive or curiosity satisfied, he turns and follows his Alpha.

[Hatchet] The rest of the conversation between the two Half Moons, for what it's worth, is private. Most of it is. Daniel hasn't said a damn word aloud to begin with. Hatchet settles back into his chair by the fire, casting a glance over at the Yates brothers, then takes a deep breath and starts working on finishing his dinner as though he needs to empty his plate because he has shit to do.

[Aaron] [hey, asshole, can you percep + emp your twin at all or do you suck?]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 3, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Hatchet] There's no answer for awhile over their link. Then, as Hatchet is actually putting a bite of roast beef into his mouth. He sounds calm now. Open. What did you think I might need?
to Daniel

[Aaron] Aaron watches Lee with the greedy intensity only a lover can bring; that being, his stare is hot on her even as she walks away, and it never abates for the rest of the time she's there. She can feel Aaron's eyes caressing her through her clothing, his presence something like a drug you took once and kind of liked, in a hazy, hard to fully remember way but might be tempted to try again sometime, when the mood struck.

Then; Hatchet sniffs his brother and Aaron's fingers curl to fists, both resting in his lap beneath the table. He doesn't appreciate that Werewolf smelling his brother, nobody needs to try and delve beneath the surface to read that; he's all but scowling for an instant, especially when he sees how rattled it leaves Ethan.

No Sir, he didn't like it.
"Watch it, Ethan." He says to his brother when he has his attention again. "They're trouble, and they aren't worth the time."

[Liadan] [I always feel like, somebody's waaaatching meeee!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 6 (Failure at target 6)

[Hatchet] There's no answer for awhile over their link. Then, as Hatchet is actually putting a bite of roast beef into his mouth. He sounds calm now. Open. What did you think I might need?
to Aaron, Daniel, Liadan

[Daniel] Backup. A pause. Or restraint, maybe.
to Aaron, Hatchet, Liadan

[Daniel] Since Liadan is headed this way, and since her food is right there, Daniel assumes the kinswoman will be taking the other chair. So he remains standing, turning his back to the room now, facing the fire in the hearth.

His hands are laced behind his back. His shoulders are a little stooped; the firelight on his face, all angles and bones, looks right somehow. The Forseti doesn't really belong in this time, in this place, in those plain and cheap and durable mass-produced clothes. He's a throwback to another age; a relic from an isolated, traditional Sept.

[Hatchet] There's a twinge across Bear's link between his children, a brief snap of temper. He allows them to feel it. If he did not want them to know, they would not. Hatchet is, whatever else, more tightly controlled than those outside of the Sentinels could give him credit for.

Maybe some of those inside, too.

I was nowhere near losing control, Daniel, he says, sounding patient in the wake of his frustration. And if I'd needed backup, I would not have rushed headlong forward without it.

This pause is longer. Trust me. This pause, not so long. ...but thank you.
to Aaron, Daniel, Liadan

[Ethan] Even if no one else in the restaurant is able to discern the effect that Hatchet's nearness had had on the kinsman, his brother can. They have been outside of each others' influence for a number of years now, have grown apart in the years since they used to build pillow forts in the living room and whisper to each other in a language that they made up, yet it's fair to say that Aaron still knows his brother better than any man alive or dead ever will.

He knows what that flush to his tanned cheeks and that look of breathlessness means. He knows what's lurking underneath his ability to complete a conversation with Lee, what's still there even after he turns back to the menu; he doesn't quite feel the flutter of his heart or the shakiness in his hands, but he can see it, and that matters.

Ethan looks back up from the menu for the last time when he's told to watch it, and he swallows again. For several seconds all he does is look at his brother, his expression difficult to describe let alone pin down and identify, but Aaron does alright.

"I wasn't," he starts to say, and then runs out of steam. He was. He briefly drops his gaze, glances over to where the Fianna have gone, then looks back and says, "I'm going to have the fish and chips."

[Liadan] Lee trails after Taggart, thumbs hooked now into the beltloops at her hips as she walks. She doesn't feel eyes boring into her backside as she walks away. Lee doesn't try to emphasize the roll of her hips as she walks, doesn't actively try to draw attention to her figure. That doesn't mean it doesn't happen, anyway. She walks with a long, lazy gait that stretches her legs and takes advantage of her height.

Eyes are on her for the rest of the time she's there in the dining room, and Lee is completely oblivious to them.

Daniel follows, takes up a stance that faces the fireplace. Lee grabs one of the wait staff and asks for a to-go box before collecting her coat and hat and scarf. She's shrugging into these when she returns to the fireplace, Taggart, and the unknown man who stands facing the fire. She studies his face for a moment, at the play of the firelight on his distinctive features.

She pulls out a pair of gloves and begins sliding them over pale and almost delicately boned hands. "Hey, I have to go. I forgot I need to get some work done. I'll see you later, though."

When someone comes with a box, she dumps her food into it almost carelessly.

[Daniel] There's a short silence on the totemlink, which may by now be no more or less than what Hatchet expects from his auspicemate. Daniel is rarely the type to accept without thinking; to rush in carelessly.

Except, of course, when he's literally lost his mind.

Then: You're right, Alpha. I will.
to Aaron, Hatchet, Liadan

[Hatchet] After that last look over at Aaron and Ethan, Hatchet keeps his eyes off the twins. He focuses on his meal, having a silent conversation in his mind that Echo and Joey choose not to chime in on while the Half Moons have their chat. You wouldn't think they were talking, what with Hatchet looking at his plate and Daniel looking at the fire. Liadan comes over, causing Taggart to glance up and smile thinly at her.

Almost apologetically. But not quite.

He nods at the Forseti. "Lee, this is Daniel. He's new to my pack. Daniel, this is Líadan Whelan, my kinswoman." He watches her dump her food into a box, doesn't bother asking her if she's headed out. "Room 8, if you need help and can't find me. Echo and Joey both live there, as well; they're mine, too."

He doesn't know that Lee will never in a million years meet Josephine Oliver, but it doesn't really matter. She knows where to find him and his packmates. They are, one by one, learning of her existence and her name, though they would know by her breeding that she is connected to their Alpha.

Finishing his meal, he sets aside his plate, rises to his feet, and announces: "I... am going to go on a walk." Which means patrol. "Lee," he says, and gives her a brief grin, a wink. "Daniel," he says more soberly, perhaps even in imitation of the younger Garou's dour demeanor.

He turns to walk, to head out the front door. Passes by Ethan and Aaron's tables. "Fuckers," he says, with respect and a deep nod, as though this is their name.

And he's out the door, without a coat. Christ.

[Aaron] Aaron just stares after Hatchet, then looks at his brother as if to ask ready, bro? really? that one? and shakes his head, waiting for his steak to be delivered to him.

[Aaron] [god damn it. really, not ready.]

[Liadan] Lee doesn't react to the absence of Charlie's name as one she can go to for help. Maybe by now Taggart realizes she should know he's dead. It's been weeks, after all. She does make a mental note of room 8, of Joey and Echo, two names that do little to clue her into the gender of Taggart's packmates. She memorizes Daniel, makes a mental not that this quiet, stoic man who is likely younger than she but doesn't look it is someone she can go to if she needs help.

"Nice to meet you," is all she says as she closes up her little styrofoam box and slides it into a bag. She tugs a grey fedora over her red hair, and once again follows in Taggart's footsteps.

She doesn't question her friend's choice in going for a walk in six degree weather sans coat. Lee doesn't question much about Taggart at all. Which may be why she's able to be friends with someone as crazy as he often appears to be. Or maybe she's not so level-headed, herself.

As she passes by the Yates brothers, she tips her head in farewell, and she exits.

[Grace] No one's territory.

She remembered this, so when she came in she was well aware of the fact that she was not trespassing. She'd spent a bit too much time in this form, a little uncomfortable with the fact that she is standing on two legs. It bleeds into all of her actions- the way that, when she moves, she is cautious. The way there is tension in every step, but the kind that came with being unstretched versus being limber and warmed up.

She has her jaw set into a hard line, clenched like she was gripping something. Eyes bright and vibrant and poisonous. Tall, for a female, but exceptionally thin. Over five and a half feet tall, and build like a runway model. Her hair was tangled, she didn't seem to think this a problem. the corners of her mouth flicker upward into a makeshift grin, and the young, flaxen-haired female pulls out an iPod. The ear buds go near her ears, but not necessarily in them.

She knows the ritual. she picks up a menu, even if she can't read it. Maybe there would be pictures.

[Daniel] Hatchet's kinswoman, introduced, receives due consideration as the hardfaced Forseti turns from the fire. In the end, he merely nods to her; again, as Hatchet takes his leave.

Daniel doesn't follow, though. The totem conversation at an end now, he turns away from the fire and, soon thereafter, heads upstairs.