Logfile from GarouMU.
Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous Moon phase (70% full).
It is currently 14:42 Pacific Time on Mon Aug 15 2005.

Farmhouse: Kitchen and Dining Room
Homey is the first word to come to mind when looking at the farmhouse's kitchen. Dark, wood-paneled wainscoting covers the walls to about waist height, dark beige wallpaper continuing to the ceiling. Twin refrigerators occupy the north wall, facing the large six-burner stove on the south. The kitchen counter runs the length of the eastern wall, broken only by the double-basin sink. Cabinets run above and below the counter and a twin-pane window is set in the wall above the sink. A small pantry is set into an alcove alongside the refrigerators, presumably holding the deep freezer as well as shelves of dry goods.
Some twelve feet above the floor, a large chandelier hangs from the ceiling, lighting the dining room and casting long shadows over the bar to the kitchen. A long table occupies the center of the dining room, three chairs setting along each side, and one on each end. On the west wall, a large window looks out on the trees alongside the western pasture. Set into the north wall is a large cabinet, its glass doors closed on shelves containing a full compliment of fine china and glassware as well as a few decorative nicknacks. On the east, a wide bar separates the dining room from the kitchen.
An opening in the southern wall allows passage to the front entryway of the house, while a sliding glass door in the kitchen opens to a clearing behind the house.
(Non-Garou, please "+view curse")
Contents:
Kevin
Brom
Obvious exits:
Hallway/Living Room  Back Door  

From within the kitchen comes the smells of a brunch, made up of hash browns, omelettes and cooked ham. Brom is at the small range, busily making use of it with all the food spread out, handling himself well like any chef may. It seems that he has a hidden talent for making breakfasts.

Kevin is making himself busy alongside Brom, washing and drying plates and cutlery, and warming some of the former under the grill ready for the finished brunch. "Who said that packing was all about fighting together?" he demands of Brom. "Cooking together, too."

Kenneth, perhaps, just has a talent for being dour. Sitting at the kitchen table silently, he shifts his gaze from Get to Walker to sliding door. "It's not a damned college frat," he protests, grumbling blackly.

"If it was, we'd be infamous for our hazing." Brom says as he glances over to Kevin, then towards Kenneth with a wry grin on his face. "Hey pledge, make yourself useful and make some orange juice." He says, trying his best to keep a serious face.

"Looks like I tagged someone else with the grumpy blues, without even meaning to," Kevin says, glancing not without sympathy at Kenneth.

Kenneth glares up at the pack alpha, eyes narrowing slightly as he shoves up to his feet. "OJ was guilty," he mutters to himself as he passes beside the two, jerking the door open and peering inside for citrus elements.

"Hell yeah that fucking nigger was guilty." Brom says as he flips over some hash browns. "I can't believe they let him go. I guess money can buy anyone freedom, even a butt fucking wife beater like him."

Kevin frowns in puzzlement. Ah, the joys of culture gaps. The British ragabash simply runs some more hot water into the sink and starts cleaning glasses. "When I was a cub out here," he remarks, "one of the things I looked forward to was not doing the washing up any more when I turned Cliath."

"That's a dream if I ever heard one," Kenneth comments as he grabs a few oranges and looks about for the cutting board. "Shouldn't you wash dishes /after/ the cooking's all done?" He picks out a decently sized cutting board and knife, working on the counter. For all his grumbling, the Shadow Lord too can at least find his way around in the kitchen.

Scooping food onto three plates, Brom places them at the table in a neat, organized fashion, then starts collecting silverware. "He's doing it because I wouldn't let him touch the food. He'd burn it."

"If you want to eat off the floor in lupus, Kenneth, feel free," Kevin invites. "Otherwise, I needed to clean plates. I don't suppose one of those idle, useless cubs in the current batch knows how to wash so much as a teaspoon. And I haven't burned stuff cooking for /weeks/," he protests.

Kenneth turns and brandishes the knife at the Walker, eyes suddenly colder than before. "Don't fuckin' compare me to no Bone Gnawer, asshole. I don't eat off the kitchen floor like some /dog/," he snarls, shoving the knife point first into the cutting board wood before concentrating on squeezing the hell out of the oranges into glasses.

"He wasn't, Kenneth." Brom states with a furrow of his brow, edging himself a bit between them. "He was making an overall remark in general about eating, it was sarcasm. What the fuck crawled up your butt and died, outside of the usual shit you won't get over?"

Kevin turns to watch Kenneth. Doesn't say anything. Just watches him. He may be silent, but his body language is crying out 'Just try it'.

"Nothing," Kenneth growls out, still squeezing a hapless orange to its juiceless doom. "Nothing at all. It's just the moon," he mutters out as a dismissive reply.

"Is it just the moon?" Brom asks as he turns the range off. "Where have you been staying at, Kenneth?" He asks curiously.

Kevin leaves the remainder of the washing up to its fate and takes a seat at the table. "Thanks," he remarks to Brom before spearing a potato piece and swallowing. "Come on, Kenneth. Stop being a vinegar puss and eat already. Blood sugar makes you feel better. Believe me I know."

Kenneth tosses the relatively pulpless orange peels off into the trashcan and washes his hands in silence before passing out the juice glasses and sitting. "What do you mean where have I been staying? Out in pack territory." The Shadow Lord glances over at the Get, eyes narrowed with suspicion before sucking down a bit of the fresh squeeze. He only glances passingly at Kevin, not commenting further.

"So, why don't you stay with me and Rillie then instead, under a roof and...you know, have an air conditioner or something at night. I stay out here during the big moons, but otherwise, its pretty quiet during the smaller ones." Brom says as he shifts his shoulders back. "You're more than welcome."

Kevin falls silent again save for the steady sound of munching.

Kenneth sets his glass down. "No," he turns down on the offer. "You got your kin in there. That's enough." When the philodox looks down at the food, he pauses in consideration. "And the Shadow Lords have Xia."

"I bet you do." Brom says without thinking, the words too quick for his brain. "She's trying to fuck every single one of you, huh? She was all up on Dwight's lap the other day, rocking and rolling. She got pissed off when Dwight offered to loan to her to me for the weekend, and then got even more offended when I told her No, because I don't fuck ch.." He pauses, then clears his throat. ".. Other kin."

Kevin sets his knife and fork down and looks expressively from Brom to Kenneth and back.

Kenneth glances up, brow furrowing at the Get. A storm clouds over the Shadow Lord as he returns to eating, this time in a hurried shove of food down into his mouth, stopping only to drink at his glass.

"She's a fucking kid, acting like a fucking rich bitch slut who can tickle under our chins like we're dogs and we'll go barking after her. Fucking hate kin like that. She even slapped Dwight, not that he didn't deserve it, despite the fact we were drunk, but it was a big moon and he's a god damn Ahroun. She's not too bright either." Brom says with a snort, then says. "Maybe you should talk to her, let her know its not wise to try and bed everyone she runs into, and then get pissy at 'em, and to not come around /here/, the farmhouse, at all. Kin shouldn't be here, especially during the big moons."

Kevin winces at the mention of a mere kinfolk striking Dwight. "Brom," he drawls, "if you hadn't been garou... you'd have made an awesome marriage guidance counsellor."

Kenneth swallows down hard, and without finishing the meal at the table, he stands and brings plate and utensils to the sink. "She's not my problem," he says aloud, though it feels more directed towards himself.

There is a loud snort from Brom. "She's your kin, she is your problem." He says rather brutishly. "Geez, step up some Kenneth."

"This is really, really making me so much more eager to meet that girl I'm being set up with," Kevin comments, as though apropos of nothing. "You know, Brom, the one I was telling you about earlier. Aimee."

"No, it's Not my problem," Kenneth carries on, scrubbing at the plate. "Fuckin' Dwight wants to take over the tribe, then she's his problem. And Cutter's." He finishes washing, and just tosses the plate onto the drying rack.

Brom lets out a hard breath as his eyes roll up to the ceiling. "Yes, Aimee, I remember her name. Kenneth, you aren't fooling anyone, and you got a lot of shit up in your head, and I don't blame you, OK? You lost your pack mate who was probably your best friend, regardless of whatever shit ass excuse you may come up with against it. You got your dick lopped off and that'd put anyone in a bad mood for the next twenty years, and, your fuck up of an Elder got himself killed and you're living in an abandoned house. Alright, fine. Why can't you talk about it with us, we're about as close of a family as you got right now. I offer you help and you turn it away. Is that some stupid Shadow Lord shit or is it your pride? I don't know what to do to help you out, but I'm worried you may start going down the wrong path in time if you continue to let this shit gnaw away at your soul."

Kevin drops his cutlery on his plate again. "What Brom said," he confirms, in a voice that betrays the effort he's putting in to keeping sarcasm and bitterness out of it, and sincerity in. "Far as I'm concerned, you know where to find me, any time I'm able, you can bend my ear or call on me for whatever support I can give. It's called pack."

Kenneth plants his hands down on the sink, back to his packmates. "You're Not," he growls as he spins around, "my /family/. Get that the fuck down your fucking throats. My family went up in smoke four years ago, and that's fuckin' that."

Brom rises himself up from the table quickly, letting the chair bowl its way over behind him. "Like fuck you aren't family. We're fucking /pack/, and that should mean something, like real fucking wolves. We're here for each other, not just to run out in the war and throw down. We may not have to like each other, but we can at least accept the fact we're bonded, all of us. I'm sick and tired of you acting like some god damn wounded /dog/. If that is what you are, I'll happily put you out of your misery and you go hang out with Lucas in hell and play poker for all I fucking care."

"Guys, guys," Kevin says wearily. "Pack ain't family. Just as garou ain't humans. Pack isn't better than family, it isn't worse, it's /different/. And it's what you got now. Don't throw it away just because you lost your folks. You aren't the only one with that in your past," he adds, frowning briefly.

"I'm no fuckin' /dog/," Kenneth hisses dangerously, rage seething behind his eyes, "and the only fuckin' reason this pack even exists is because of Lucas! Don't fuckin' talk shit about him you fuckin' Ass of Fenrir!" The philodox snarls, teeth baring as he faces down with the much larger halfmoon.

"Then don't piss on his memory by acting like a fucking bitch, like a god damn whipped mutt who thinks he's not good enough to lick the sweat off his own balls. All you do is mope around and ooze 'pity me'. If you don't want pity, then don't act like a bitch. I never got to meet the /real/ you, I was told that you were actually pretty cool." Brom says with a deep rumble in his throat, all but ignoring the New Moon now. "But I wouldn't know because you're too busy feeling sorry for yourself and telling the rest of us to fuck off."

Kevin throws himself back in his chair, and appears quite happy not to be the focus of attention. He moodily spears a piece of ham and swallows it, barely bothering to chew first.

Kenneth's rage visibly strains at the chains as he turns abruptly from the Get and stalks towards the glass door. "I'm Out." The Shadow Lord crackles all over, hand reaching and shoving the door open so hard it slams off the track. Not that he cares. He keeps moving on outside, headed for the woods.

Brom lets out a loud, heavy breath as he stalks a few steps after the Shadow Lord, then snarls to himself as he shakes his head. "Fucking.. god dammit." He calms himself down after a few moments, then starts to fix the door.

[much later...]

Highway 22, Railroad Crossing
The faded asphalt of the highway crosses a set of rusted old railroad tracks here, the crossing warning lights half-hidden behind the roadside trees. The tall conifers on either side of the road have begun to encroach on the shoulder of the road and the railroad. The rails are rusted and a number of the support boards are rotted, indicating that the railroad likely isn't used much any more. The underbrush beneath the pines and firs is thick, blocking any view further into the woods.
Highway 22 runs southeast toward the National Park, and heads back toward Kent Crossing to the northwest. The railroad runs eastward and westward through the woods, disappearing almost immediately into the trees.
Contents:
Brom
Spider-Eyes
Fang(#3140J)
Obvious exits:
East on the Tracks  Northwest on the Tracks  North  Southeast  

Kenneth sits at the base of the northside crossing warning lights. The Shadow Lord's head is bowed, hands interlaced over.

Making his way towards the Shadow Lord, Brom lets out a slow breath and says. "Hey Kenneth." He sweeps a wide circle around him, coming about to face him. "About.. this morning.."

Spider-Eyes runs through and out of the Bawn at an unnatural speed, even more unnatural eyes open wide. She is making her way into Requiem's territory and making no secret of her presence when she reaches it's border. Skidding to a stop, the Mule lifts her head and howls long and loud.

Kenneth jerks his head up from his seated position, his glare ready and unforgiving at the Get. Though he says nothing, the howl distracts the philodox from any curses he may have leveled at the other halfmoon. "Save it," he mutters at his pack alpha, standing up and walking towards the general direction of where he thinks the howl came from.

"We're going to have to talk about this sometime, Kenneth." Brom says with a hard breath, tilting his chin upwards at the howl, eyes narrowing some in concern, before storming off a well. He flicks his wrist, calls upon the spirit and summons his wedding gift, the heavy looking War Hammer, Fenris glyphs etched in and out of the heavy metal.

Spider-Eyes sits and waits patiently, having announced her presence and unwilling to cross that invisible line into the back's territory without permission.

Kenneth growls under his breath, making no secret of his residual irritation even as he walks. Though it takes some time to reach the Strider, and lupine ears could certainly hear his coming, the Shadow Lord still seems to ease out of the shadows of the forest. Spotting the metis, he eyes her. "Spider-Eyes," the philodox assumes.

"Hey Strider, you alright, what's going on?" Brom asks as he clutches the hammer tightly in his hand, knuckles bleeding right as he sniffs the air, glancing about the area for a moment, before finally settling his eyes upon her.

Spider-Eyes's tail wags briefly, tongue lolling. Hello. Nothing. Was told to come here, to speak with Dagger's-Edge. This is your territory and I will not enter it without permission.

Kenneth just grunts, peering at the completely unnatural eyes on top of the metis' head. "I heard from Guards-the-Flame." Then he turns, glancing to Brom briefly. "What do you need?" he asks, directing the query to the Strider.

"Well, you're invited into the territory, Strider warrior." Brom says as he taps the side of his hammer against his head, then lets it dispel into dedication once more as his arms cross over his broad chest.

Spider-Eyes's ears lay back and her head tilts in what seems to be confusion. Guards-Flame said I should speak with you, about the fight I had with Circle-Keeper. I assumed you would be deciding if anything would have to be done, being a ~Half-Moon.~

Kenneth nods once, slowly turning and waving the Strider further in. "We'll talk back at the tracks," he says without flourish. The Shadow Lord only gives Brom a short glance, before he starts back to the rusted railroad. Once they reach the area, he gestures to the Strider to find someplace to sit. "So, tell me."

Glancing back at the Shadow Lord, Brom allows the other to field this and follows after them, reaching up to pull his hair back behind his head and start tying it up with a piece of twine he slides off his wrist.

Spider-Eyes follows the Shadow Lord and Get, staying very close to their heels. Once they reach the tracks, the twisted wolf turns into an equally strange woman. "Circle Keeper wished for his packmate, Horace, to learn the Rite of the Long Vigil. I told him that if his packmate wished to learn the Rite, he would have to come and speak with me before I would agree to teach him. He continued to say that I should teach Horace the Rite and I tried to explain that I would have to speak with Horace and decide if he was suited to learn the Rite. Circle Keeper became quite angry, saying that Horace did want to learn the Rite and that he was suited to it. I tried to leave a few times... Not wanting to fight him, but not wanting to submit and agree to what he asked for. Eventually I did leave and he followed, quite angry and wishing for me to submit. Eventually, he became quite angry and shifted into the war form, aiming his spear for my body." The woman pauses briefly, before tacking on what she clearly feels is the most important part of the story. "I came very close to nearly killing him."

Kenneth doesn't look directly at the metis as she speaks, eyes gazing elsewhere for the beginning. Only when she mentions the part of being threatened with the spear does his gaze turn back to her. It darkens even more. "Have you spoken to Horace?"

Brom frowns heavily, opens his mouth, takes a step forward, then closes it with a click to his teeth. There is just a loud snort from the Fenrir.

Tamara simply shakes her head. "No, I have not. I have only seen him once and I know that my appearance frightened him badly." The Metis frown faintly. "I do not think that he had Firsted at the time."

Kenneth glances towards Brom when the Get moves, his movement triggering instinctive wariness, but sidetracks back onto Tamara when she speaks again. "Have you spoken to Circle Keeper since?"

Once again, Tamara simply shakes her head. "I have seen him, but I have not spoken with him. I injured him very badly and it will take him some time to heal, so I brought him some food. He will have a hard time hunting with his wounds and a Caern cannot be properly protected by half-dead Guardians."

Kenneth snorts, his lips pulling into a near-sneer for fleeting moments before it disappears again. "I would've left the bastard to rot, but you've got more grace," he grunts, before looking more fully at the metis, at both sets of eyes at first before he settles onto the lower pair. "So let me get this straight. Circle Keeper wanted you to teach his packmate, who didn't even have the balls to talk to you directly, this Rite of the Long Vigil thing. And when you said 'no', he attacked you?"

Brom clears his throat loudly. "... from behind, like a fucking pussy."

Kenneth eyes Brom, but doesn't say anything. He looks back to Tamara, waiting for her reply.

Those strange eyes blinks, first the lower pair, then the upper ones. "I think I angered him," Tamara replies. "When I would not submit and was all but trying to ignore him when I left. I did not wish to fight, or challenge him."

"Did he Challenge you?" Kenneth asks, simply.

Tamara cocks her head to one side. "Not in the formal sense."

Brom opens his mouth once more, then clears his throat as he glances over to Kenneth.

Kenneth turns from both Garou then, a hand running through his hair as he thinks. It remains on his head for some time, until he drops it to his side like a hammer dropping. He turns back to the Strider, facing her fully. "Lemme ask you. Do you feel guilty about kicking a Guardian's ass?"

Tamara appears to be rather puzzled and downright confused y the questions. "I weakened the defenses of the Caern," she replies simply.

Brom opens his mouth again, his voice squawking, before clicking his teeth shut and grunts out in frustration.

"It's a simple question, Spider-Eyes," Kenneth rumbles out with a sidelong glance at Brom. "Do you feel guilty about hurting a Guardian, yes or no?"

"For bringing harm to a Guardian," Tamara finally replies. "Yes."

Kenneth nods once at the Strider's answer, and finally looks back to Brom, regarding him for more than a second's worth this time. "Brom, you got something you wanna say... just say it."

Brom glances over to Kenneth, then back to Tamara. "I think that anyone who attacks someone from behind is a god damn pussy." He states, simply. "It shows that he's a coward. He had no right to make demands of you to release knowledge without proper request, and that violates tradition. Also, she's telling the truth, I'm using the gift on her." He says with a snort, then cracks his shoulders. "And congratulations, he needed his ass kicked hard, and the fact you gave him food even after all that, shows you are a better Garou." He spits on the ground, then storms off a bit.

Tamara remains silent as Brom speaks, eyes turned away and looking far from comfortable.

Kenneth waits out the storm of words, before turning back to Tamara. "So. Here's what I'm gonna do," he tells her. "I'm gonna go talk to Circle Keeper. Even though I don't even want to smell his fart on the wind, let alone talk to him, I will find out his side to this. And once I've done that, I'll let you know what I think of all this, at moot."

Brom barks out. "I'm the Truthcatcher this time around, so let me know what is going on so that I can announce you properly and toss the bones over."

"I would like to be properly introduced, please," Tamara replies in response to what Brom says. At Kenneth's words, she shrinks back a touch. "If you feel that is needed. I would prefer forget what has happened, but you are a half-moon. While you clearly do not like Circle Keeper, you will make a just decision."

Kenneth glances back towards Brom, but stays where he is and turns back to Tamara. "Well let me give you my opinion. This ain't my judgement. Just what I think." The Shadow Lord tosses one sidelong glance back to his pack alpha for a moment, and then starts in. "Circle Keeper's got his head in his ass if he thinks he can get away with playin' King of the Bawn. He ain't shit, but one of Seeker's pawns. The fact that Horace doesn't have the cajones to even hunt you down to ask for a Rite makes him a coward - this ain't a fuckin' dating game." He shoves a hand into his pocket. "I wish you had killed that sonuvabitch, because you'd have done everyone a huge goddamn favor. You might've thought you were weakening the defenses of the caern, but that's bullshit. You were putting down a wolf with an asshole for a head, and besides, if the Caern were really in need of Guardians, the Warder could very well pull every goddamn one of us in further to defend it. We don't need backstabbing bullies like him, who don't even remember what fucking breed of Garou he is."

"A Fucking Men, Kenneth." Brom says as he parks himself against a tree, arms folding over his chest.

Tamara all but cringes under the angry words that come out of Kenneth's mouth, even if they are not directed at her. Once he finishes, the Mule lightly clears her throat. "I have spoken to you, as I was bid to do. I should leave now."

Kenneth continues on the line, as he works up. "What I suggest you do then, Spider-Eyes, is to get your ass out there to Jacinta or Horace himself, and tell 'em just what the fuck happened out there because Circle Keeper's gonna put some stupid lupus shit spin on how royally fucked up his actions were and they're gonna hear that. And if Horace runs from you, then goddamnit, you tell Jacinta that she has a bunch of nutless, gutless clowns for packmates and tell 'em to shape the fuck up or ship out. I don't want no Guardian defending the caern who can't even face down a four-eyed metis to ask a favor, let alone look at a Nexus Crawler." The Shadow Lord rolls a shoulder stiffly, the hand in his pocket jerking back out. "A Garou who attacks another Garou without a formal challenge, not only takes a shit on the creeds of Glory and Honor, but pisses on the Litany as well. You go back to your tribal elder, who just happens to be the Warder, and you fuckin' tell him what the hell happened on his bawn, and see if he doesn't do anything about it."

Tamara really is very uncomfortable now, clearly eager to leave. "I will speak with Seeker if I find him," is all the Metis will promise. "Luna watch your path," she adds hastily, before shifting to lupus and all but fleeing the area.

Brom pushes himself off the tree and narrows his eyes a bit. "Man, that is some fucked up shit." He says, then lets his gaze fall upon the Shadow Lord, cracking a grin. "By the way, well spoken, said it better than I could have. I liked that asshole for a head line."

Kenneth doesn't look nonetoopleased as the metis runs off, still tense and angry, but once she's out of sight he releases a hiss of a breath holding out. He crosses back over to the rusted crossing warning bar, folding down to sit where he was before. Only glancing sidelong at the Get, he grunts in wordless reply.

Brom follows after him and reaches out, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. "You want to grab a beer or something?" He asks.

Kenneth looks over at the hand on his shoulder, then upwards at the halfmoon. "I ain't old enough to drink," he mutters out, hand reaching up to swat at an insect hovering in his face.

"I got beer at the farmhouse, provided that none of those fucking Gnawer cubs swiped them." Brom says with a grin on his face. "I got the good stuff too, the kind that tastes like shit but hits you hard real fast. Even got a huge bag of chips with dip. What about it?"

Kenneth goes silent for a long while, scales weighing the offer. In answer, he just pushes the halfmoon's hand off his shoulder and stands up slowly. "I'm only goin' 'cause you're gonna give me more shit about it later if I don't," he comments flatly.

Letting out a breath, Brom nods his head. "You really hate me, don't you Kenneth?" He asks with a furrow of his brows, dropping his angry composure as a more serious expression takes shape.

Kenneth starts towards the direction of the farmhouse, his walking slow. It's only a few paces though, that he turns to glance over his shoulder and replies. "No, I don't." He continues on, his answer left to fill the air between them.

"So... What's up?" Brom asks as he tilts his head over toward the Shadow Lord, following after him. "I /am/ trying my best here. As much as you may not think so, I need you in the pack. You got a brain between your ears and you're the Yin to my Yang, you know."

Kenneth shakes his head, eyes gazing out into the darkening woods as he walks. The paths he crosses are familiar - he must be using them nearly every day. At a point, he stops and turns around. "The pack is a warpack. Called on when something needs asskicking. What more do you want out of me? Or maybe you just have me in here as a fall out guy so when shit goes wrong, you could pin it on me. Hell if I know."

"I don't know what else I want from you Kenneth. Maybe I just want to know that you are going to be OK and not ganna snap one day. You've had a hell of a year. You got fucked over royally and I'm just concerned, thats all." Brom says with a clear of his throat. "We all got issues, but most of them are easy fixes. You got a lot of mental anguish that is eating you up. Maybe you need to just talk them out with someone, with someone who won't judge you. Ya'know, like me."

"You're a Get," Kenneth mutters. "Like hell you aren't gonna judge me." The Shadow Lord rolls a shoulder, turning back around to continue walking on. "I told you, it's just the moon. So what if I got Ostracized? If I had to keep my mouth shut to keep Lucas alive at least for as long as he was, I'd do it again if I had to. Wasn't my fault the bastard couldn't keep his munchies off of things with opposable thumbs." The more he walks, the more he hunches, the lower the volume on his words get.

"I'm not just a Get, I'm also your pack mate." Brom reaches out and grabs Ken's shoulders, turning him around to face him. "And I would have kept my mouth shut also and have tried to fix him to the best of my ability as well. The last thing you three needed was the world knowing he was eating people. Look, if anyone starts giving you shit about that stuff, tell me, alright? I'm not saying you can't fight your own battles, but I will put the fear of God into whoever looks down at you, and maybe even break a leg or two if I gotta. I want you to walk with your head up high."

Kenneth stiffens as he's grabbed, hands reaching up immediately to clamp onto the Get's wrists. He just isn't strong enough to counter the larger halfmoon's grip though, even if he tries. Instead the philodox simmers in expression. He just stands there for a time, glaring at the other, teeth grinding. "I'm not asking for anything," he squeezes out.

"Look kid, I wish you would, you know? Make me feel useful or something." Brom says, then gives his other shoulder a good swat with his free hand, before letting him go all together and starting off. "C'mon, lets get fucked up."

"And Fuckin'..." Kenneth busts out, the swat shoving him slightly to a side. "Fuckin' stop calling me kid or junior or champ or any patronizing shit. I'm sick of you, or Dwight, or any goddamn motherfucker thinking I'm just some 'kid', when I fuckin' passed my Rite and stand on the same goddamn rank as you."

Brom blinks his eyes for a moment, then raises up a brow. "Sorry. I call everyone kid. It has nothing to do with rank. Its just...you know. Fine, I'll call you old man." He says with a grin. "Since you act like a fart half the time."

Kenneth huffs exasperatedly, lips curling back in an irritated snarl. "Just call me by my God-given name, goddamnit. Or Edge. Or ... just forget it." He gives his head a violent shake, and stalks off once more, this time at a faster clip.

"Oh, shit a brick, Kenneth, c'mon, can't you ever just crack a fucking grin once in awhile and realize that its just all good and well? Hell, you call me tons of things and I don't flip out on you." Brom says as he follows after him.

Kenneth keeps walking. "I'll never assume anything is 'good and well' when it comes to the Garou," he mutters.

Letting out a soft breath, Brom shoves his hands into his pockets. "You are a real downer dude, wasting a perfectly good Gibbous moon on bullshit. I hope when you get drunk tonight you get a bit chipper."

Kenneth slows, looking over his shoulder at the Get behind him. "I'm not gonna get drunk," he states, perfectly confident that he has the discipline.

"Sure you will, cuz you love that shit." Brom says with a wry grin to the Lord as he catches up. "So you know, I almost killed Dillen the other day. He knocked up my sister."

Kenneth slows to a stop, brow furrowing at the Get. "Your sister was here?" he asks obliviously.

"No, he went to Ohio with us when Rillie and I got married over a weekend. They both got drunk and she got pissed at me, so she fucked him to get back at me. She got pregnant, so, I lost it on him." Brom grits his teeth. "So, I'm making him marry her and she is moving out here now."

Kenneth blinks a couple of times, just watching the big halfmoon. "So... your sister fucked Dillen to get back at you, and you beat the shit out of Dillen for it? And you want them to marry?" The Shadow Lord blinks again. "Dillen's not even eighteen. How the hell is he gonna ... how old is your sister?"

"Marrying by Get traditional means." Brom says with a nod of his head. "As in he is going to take her for his wife and he is going to support her and the kid and not leave her stranded out in Ohio pregnant. No other Garou will want her if she is with child, and ya'know? Its his problem now. He thought he was big enough to put his dick in her." He smirks.

"How the hell can you say that with a smirk on your face?" Kenneth continues his browfurrowing, but turns back around again and keeps walking. "Christ. Dillen can't take care of her. He's got no means of income." There's a pause in his steps as he looks back at the Get. "For that matter, where the hell does all your money come from?"

There is a wide grin on the Get's face. "One of life's greatest secrets, huh?" He asks, giving himself a good stretch over his head, popping a few joints in his body. "And I know Dillen can't take care of her, but he is going to try his best and learn what its like to be a supporter. "She will be staying with us for the time, but, she's eighteen, she can apply for an apartment."