[Grace] [performance roll]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 4 at target 6) [WP]

[Izzy Montoya] She is later than usual, pulling into the lot after a late night crime scene workup, and the resulting paperwork. The muddy brown four door vehicle slides into it's normal spot, and she lets the engine idle for a few more moments, steeling herself for tonight's ordeal. She finishes off her cigarette, stamps it out in the overflowing tray in the car, then grabs her briefcase and heads inside.

Her hair is still damp from a recent shower - at the station, of course. Other than that, she is the same as they've come to expect. Dark sacks, lighter color blouse, tailored to fit her well, the long leather coat worn unbuttoned, to allow access to the gun at the small of her back and sensible shoes. She walks like a cop, holds herself like a cop - in short, everything she is and does screams "officer of the law". She doesn't bother to try and hide it - in fact, she likes it just fine.

She enters the restaurant through the back door, and closes it behind her, making her way through the kitchen with only a stop at the bar to grab a beer. Whiskey will come later - for now she's still technically on call. Straight to her table in the back, she sets her briefcase down, slips from her coat, the gleaming handle of her gun catching the low light as she tosses the coat into the booth, before sliding into place on the bench seat. She opens the beer, takes a swallow, and then begins to set up her little paperwork mill for the night.

[Daniel] There is little preamble. Set to Grace's piano music -- how the hell did a wolfborn learn that, anyway? -- Daniel drops into the seat across from Izzy.

This is becoming a nightly ritual. He performs it with the uninvested dutifulness of an immigration officer. "Kinswoman, have you obeyed all orders I have given you in your life and actions today?"

[Grace] She had been sitting at the piano, because there was a piano now.

Grace played like it was no one's business. She played like no one was watching, because at the Brotherhood, no one really seemed to care what who was doing when. Grace had no idea how to make it quiet, but it was lovely music none the less. Classical. Debussy. Reflections in the Water. She played like she had seen a woman on television play, and the way she made it seem was so effortless. The cub's reproduction was nearly flawless.

But it was only that. A reproduction. Grace knew that the sound was beautiful, that there were complexities, but her ultimate portrayal was only a reproduction of someone else's work.

She wonders, briefly, if she would feel the need to write her own music someday. Her reproduction lacks something.

She wonders what it is. She wonders why what she makes is technically beautiful while still intrinsically lacking something. It's no matter, though, because the cub continues to play. Focus intense, caught up in her act of complex mimicry. Attire was comfortable; grace was sitting around in her underwear and a tee shirt playing piano.

[Daniel] (truth of gaia!)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 5, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 2)

[Izzy Montoya] This is becoming ritual, and every bit as tiresome. It's been over a week, and she's showing signs of wear and tear, were one to look. She's exhausted. She still spends less than two hours in the bunk above his, and occasionally up to 18 hours a day at work - where she showers, where she keeps a bag of clothing and other necessities, where she catnaps on the couch in the breakroom. Even through the bruising that still dominates strong features, the signs of exhaustion are hard to miss - the dark circles, the bags under her eyes that have luggage of their own.

But somethings are the same, like the way her jaw clenches when he sits down, when he speaks, when he doesn't even bother saying hello, when he calls her that, when he just starts in. This time - before she's even managed to open the first folder, or boot up the computer completely.

"Daniel." a pause, and then.. "You think maybe, how about for my birthday, you could manage to say hello first?" It's said with a voice that mirrors the exhaustion in her eyes. But then she continues as she lifts a hand and rubs her temple. "I've only been here or at work, or on assignment for work. I am 20 minutes after midnight getting here, but drove from work here, and left a message saying I had been detained."

[Grace] She started to slow, and finally... she stops.

She becomes aware, from her fixation, that there are people here. Rather, Daniel and Izzy are here. She doesn't know who Izzy is, but she knows her well enough. She knows Izzy well enough that she seemed almost injured while she had talked to her the night before. The wolf born (who, by some freak accident, seems to be a very good pianist) cub regards those gathered.

Lips pursed, muscles coiled, she waits for reaction.

[Daniel] Daniel sits with his back to the back of his chair, his hands on the table. Palms down. The Forseti has remarkably well-formed hands; odd, because the rest of him is so plain, so unremarkable apart from the simple toughness of the man.

His hands, though. Longfingered and agile, graceful, lean. Unmarked and unscarred and uncalloused: a perfect pair of deadly weapons.

"Very well. As you've managed to pass one week without further trespasses, I'm lifting some of the restrictions on you. Henceforth you're back to our initial terms. You will report here by midnight or explain why you have not and stay until you leave for work in the morning. Your days are yours to do with as you like, but you are not to fraternize with John Thornton outside of what is absolutely necessary for your duties. You are to remain abstinent. You are to continue to address those of higher standing with respect.

"If you can maintain your dignity for another two weeks, you will no longer need to stay in the Brotherhood every night. You will be allowed most of your freedoms, and will only need to report to me once every other day."

Like parole.

"If, however, you relapse at any point, we will revert to stricter measures. Is what I have said clear to you?"

[Izzy Montoya] He doesn't answer. She's not really surprised, because that would be expecting too much. She runs her hand down over her face, briefly, lightly, not quite the scrubbing motion she wants to do, as she listens. And oddly, watches his hands. Agile, graceful, lean. Unmarked, though part of her is surprised that there is no marks there, nothing to show what he's done - what he did to her.

therewerefouraspotonthefloor

She nods, slightly. She can again go home and sleep during the day - it'll be a very welcome change - for all involved, though part of her wonders if it'll ever be enough, even then...

But, a question. "On the tenth, would you allow me to see John here, outside of work - under your supervision, for a while?"

[Daniel] A brief pause. "For what purpose?"

[Izzy Montoya] The answer is simple. "Because it's my birthday, and I'd like to share a beer and some conversation with someone I care about." She'd like to share considerably more - and that itch is certainly there - but she is only asking for what she might actually get. Not a lot, under the circumstances.

[Grace] [Bipeds are weird... per+empathy]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 6, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Daniel] The Forseti's brow furrows. Sentiment from such a hard creature; he would've never expected it. A beat; then he nods.

"Tell him to come here after the Brotherhood has closed for the night. If you can convince the kitchen kin," and doubtlessly this is also, in Daniel's mind, a very apt title for exactly what they are, "to set out a late meal for you, then you may share it with this John Thornton, along with whatever alcoholic beverages the two of you might procure. Unless you intend to take one another as mates, don't try to make a romantic evening out of it."

Another hesitation, short as the last.

"I will observe quietly from across the room to afford you some privacy. Kinswoman, on that count I am allowing you more freedom in this than the Jarl has dictated. That means I'm laying down my honor as collateral for your good behavior. Don't give me cause to regret my gesture of goodwill on your naming-day."

[Grace] She pushes away from the piano, and her legs are curled up under her. away from the pedals, away from the keys, she is not so much sitting as she is perched. It is almost alien in posture, made abundantly clear how thin Grace actually is. How much of her is muscle and how much of her is a lack of body fat that is trying to rebound from whatever time she may have spent alone.

"Rhya," she asks, even if it's not her turn, "are kinfolk required to follow the litany?"

[Izzy Montoya] She... is surprised. It registers quickly through her gaze, though it's pushed quickly back by his consistent use of that word. She does not let it show though, as gaining this much is more than she expected.

"Thank you, Daniel." A quirk of her lips, an almost smirk that's really more of an almost smile. "To be honest, if I did want a mate? He is the only I would come close to considering." There's a history there, between her and John, something deeper than any of the lovers she has ever taken, or will ever take. More than friends - partners - in a way that few others would ever understand.

And Grace asks her question, and Izzy falls quiet, curious.

[Daniel] Daniel snorts faintly. "I'm quiet certain the Jarl would be appalled to hear that."

He turns to the cub, then. She's not rebuked for interrupting, largely because in Daniel's estimation the discussion with Izzy has already reached a favorable end.

"Yes." The Get nods once as though to underscore his point. "With obvious exceptions. They are not forbidden to mate with Garou, for example."

[Grace] Pick one question, and stick with it.

"So... if they must follow the law, they are also protected by the law?" she asks, and it's a point of curiosity. She keeps folded, and her head stays cocked to the side. She's not corrected for her interruption, which seems to be quite a fortunate turn of events.

[Daniel] The Forseti frowns. "The Law provides no one protection. Only your strength and the strength of those who care for you will protect you. The Law is a strict master, not a nursemaid."

[Izzy Montoya] There's a flash of amusement, and maybe something else in her gaze too, but she doesn't define it, or even acknowledge that it's there. Quite frankly, she has no intention of letting anyone dictate if she has a mate, who that mate would be, or if she just fucks her way through life wherever she wants too. But they've had that conversation before. Hopefully, soon, that itch can be scratched once again.

Instead, for now, she listens curiously to what Grace has to say...

...with a slight bit of trepidation.

[Daniel] (quiet certain? WTF. quite.)

[Grace] "Respect those beneath you, all are of Gaia... Do not eat the flesh of humans, what is its purpose if not to protect?"

the Forseti frowns, and the Fianna uncoils. She is watching him, and she is hanging on his words. she doesn't blink, she doesn't turn away, and her interest is genuine. She is not yet adept at hiding these things, whatever flickers across poison green eyes is there because she can not keep it at bay. Grace stops.

"Why does law have power?"

A more sincere question. Her moon isn't in the sky; his, however, is. An appropriate time to muse.

[Daniel] "Those are not meant for the protection of your lessers or of humans, cub." There's a sense of irritation in the Forseti as the cub continues to question. "Those are mandates set down to prevent the corruption of your soul. We do not go out of our way to harm those beneath us because that sort of behavior is dishonorable and weak."

And at the next question, Daniel simply stares. "What?" he snaps.

[Grace] [per+empathy: should I run now?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Izzy Montoya] Izzy, perhaps in a rare show of intelligence, keeps her fool mouth shut.

[Grace] Watching Grace's expression was, more than likely, priceless.

She is following. She is following, she is attentive, and he snaps his reply.

Grace inhales sharply, and something in the air changes. Something triggers a reaction and suddenly she's not sitting anymore. She's uncurled, feet on the floor, but not yet standing. Posture is curled inward, half a nervous grin. Back teeth exposed, not the front. Two entirely different messages.

She stops. She muses, she replies.

"I want to know," she starts slowly, "how Fenris blood view the law, and why they think it is important to uphold."

All of those words chosen very carefully. She's getting quite good at speaking in this form.

[Daniel] "The law is the law," Daniel says. There's a sort of podium-thumping absoluteness in his tone. "It is what defines our honor. Without it, we are no better than the beasts we fight."

[Grace] [DO NOT ASK THAT! WP]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Izzy Montoya] There's a glance up at Grace, something undefinable in her eyes, before she returns her eyes to the oh so very interesting folder in front of her, and listens.

[Grace] She takes a second, and then... she is thinking again.

"Why do we have no monuments to our honorable deeds if we have them for our glory?"

[Daniel] The Forseti has grown increasingly impatient throughout this barrage of questions. Now, abruptly, he demands, "Why are you asking so many questions?"

[Izzy Montoya] She reaches for her beer, and takes a long swallow. Maybe, any other person, she might interject, might say something, might point out that if Grace is to learn she has to ask questions - but she herself had no idea what Grace was when they spoke the night previous. Part of her, somewhere, enjoys the barrage, though another? Just hopes she can keep quiet long enough to keep the things she's gained tonight.

She promised John she'd try, that she'd do this for him.

So far so good.

[Grace] "Because I want to know," she says. It's simple, straight and to the point. He demands, she acquiesces.

"You are Fenrir. You are Law. You can answer in ways Buried Hatchet-rhya can not," she stops, and she is thoughtful. Or, rather, she is simply silent. Or choosing words, because now she has run into a moment where sentiment and musings are not translating. She does not whine, she does not make a sound, nor is there a scent to set off her emotions or her current state.

"There are thirty-five buried in Maelstrom. Ten are Fenris' blood. Three raised this caern, two are kin," she says, "Fenrir shaped Maelstrom. I want to know what they think."

[Daniel] "I respect my Alpha. I will not speak against his methods of teaching; the Fianna are very different from the Get of Fenris.

"Here's lesson one. Fenrir don't think much of charity. We don't hand things out and we don't expect handouts. That includes information. Learn by observation, cub, not by flinging question after question at your elders. Without first asking permission. Without even excusing the potential interruption! Laziness, cub, and rudeness -- that's what you've shown me tonight. Both of which are forms of hanging your burdens on others, which in turn is a form of weakness!"

On that note, Daniel gets to his feet to go. A parting note --

"If you learn by watching more than you do and listening more than you talk, you'll either develop a keen eye and a quick mind and be better for it ... or you'll learn nothing at all and fall in the dust. Either way, the race is stronger."

[Izzy Montoya] It's by a force of will alone that she doesn't say anything. Tasty, this beer.

[Grace] She should be insulted.

She should be insulted and defensive. She should be a lot of things, really, but instead, she takes a second, she absorbs this information, and...

Grace seems pleased. Infinitely pleased, like he had told her something important, or he had given her a new, shiny ball or a bauble to toy with. Grace, it seems, takes being chastised in a completely different way than most would. That is to say, she doesn't take it at all.

He is done, he is parting, and she says nothing, and is waiting.

[Daniel] (er -- i'm just watching at this point!)

[Grace] [get your mojo back!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Izzy Montoya] (...he hadn't left yet just was 'in parting' - so is he gone gone, cuz Izzy ain't saying shit till he is. *L*)

[Grace] The cub turns around to continue playing the piano. .she's not as adept at playing and talking as she is just playing. The music suffers as a result, but it is passable. The song, in turn, is simplified, and whatever mimicry she is reenacting is to be noted. Grace continues on with her song, and she looks at Izzy.

"I don't know your name," she says.

[Izzy Montoya] She says nothing at all until Daniel has left the room, gone upstairs, gone on patrol, gone to do something - anything. Just gone.

And then she lets her head fall back to the seat of the booth behind her, lets the tension slide from her shoulders as she closes her eyes for a few moments and simply... breathes. Grace turns back to the piano and plays and Izzy sits up again and finally opens her laptop, and hits the power button so that it can boot up.

Grace doesn't know her name. "Izzy."

[Grace] "Grace," she offers. Finally, she takes a second, before she clarifies, "just Grace."

[Izzy Montoya] That, for some reason, actually makes her chuckle. Nothing that Grace would understand, but well - it's a direct mimic of what Izzy has said so many times herself. Not that she heard Daniel call the cub by her name a single time either. Whatever it is she is supposed to be teaching him? Is not getting through. Then again, all she's doing is bowing and scraping long enough to get out of this trap.

Hopefully before she drives herself mad pushing all the little fucking levers.

"Fair enough."

[Grace] "You get to go home soon," she says. And, for a second, Grace seems pleased.

Infinitely pleased, for some strange, unknown, ungodly reason. This fact pleased her, and she kept on playing, "you won't be so-"

An error in her playing. Grace stops, grunts and seems displeased with this. She tries again. This time, it's a little harder. She's not going off of what she's seen, she's going off of what sounds good. She had asked Hatchet once about beauty for its own sake. Was this what he meant? She muses over this, Grace's love affair with the piano was budding. They had only exchanged names. Hers was Grace, and the piano kept its secret. It's okay, the upright had an air of mystery. Grace liked that about it.
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 6, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[Grace] Grace is a mediocre composer. How sad.

[Izzy Montoya] She gets to go home soon. In fact, at this point, she can count the hours. Up at 6am, into the station, and if all works well, she'll be home, in her own bed, by 1pm. Sarge will allow her the extra time, as long as she keeps her cell phone near. For the first time in over a week, she can get a solid 8 hours sleep.

It sounds like heaven.

"Tired?" That's the safest way to finish Grace's statement. It's said with a slight smirk though, amused. If she has anything to say about Grace's piano playing, there's no indication of it. She simply opens the file folder in front of her, and between comments, while Grace plays, she does paperwork.

[Grace] Grace, however, does seem to have something to say about it. She's ventured away from what she's seen, and the sound that comes from her threat is one that is displeased. She stops, she tries something new. It is a trial, an arduous task to create something beautiful that is her own rather than something she has seen. Her ability to recreate is excellent, but just as she has found before her initial skills are lacking. Izzy finishes paperwork, Grace continues to play.

"What are you doing?" she asks quietly, amidst some faceless arpeggio.