2/13/2006

11:12 AM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waning Full Moon phase (98% full).
It is currently 11:04 Pacific Time on Mon Feb 13 2006.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 33 degrees Fahrenheit (0 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 30.51 and rising, and the relative humidity is 89 percent. The dewpoint is 30 degrees Fahrenheit (-1 degrees Celsius.)

Brownstone -- Apartment B(#3427RAJ)
The apartment, in a crude sense, best resembles a D in the main structure of its hallways {+view floorplan}. The lift opens out into the bottom right corner of the hallways and facing a wooden-doored closet. From that point the hall goes two ways: left follows the bottom hallway where two bedroom doors are located as well as a two-part bathroom at the end (the sink and cabinets in one room, the toilet and shower/tub in the other), and straight ahead leads to the living room where a simple couch, recliner, and a small entertainment center dominate. The top of the D-like halls is actually the dining room, small but functional, with a room at the top left of the apartment for a washer and dryer. The central hallway leads right through the kitchen at the heart of the apartment and can be reached from both the top and bottom hallways. There is even a portion of the kitchen wall missing where a countertop allows visual access to the living room. The apartment is largely of a neutral design with beige carpets in all but the bathrooms and kitchen where there is tile and wood flooring respectively. Walls are painted a neutral white, decorated with art prints, family photographs, and wall scones for lighting.
Contents:
Kevin
Dillen
Obvious exits:
Lift  

Dillen is sitting on the couch, he's drawing in a sketch pad pictures of babies. Different features and all. Some girl, some boy by the looks of the clothes on them. It's an idle way to pass the time.

Kenneth comes out of one of the bedrooms that he's claimed - at least, for one night. The Shadow Lord looks like he's in need of a cup of morning coffee. Or the whole coffee maker, at this point. Disheveled hair being combed through with a hand, he spots the Get sitting on the couch and eyes the sketchpad irritably. He makes no comment, however, instead heading towards the dining room and into the kitchen.

From the kitchen, meantime, comes the scent of cookery which hints that the third and most junior member of the rump of Requiem, namely Kevin Lockwood, is preparing to engage in his second favourite activity after running, namely eating. "Morning, Kenneth," he greets the Shadow Lord affably. "Nice timing. Bacon and pancakes ready in two shakes."

Kenneth stops dead when he sees there's already one occupant in the kitchen. His reply is far less amiable, and monosyllabic. "Nng." Turning a 180, the Shadow Lord slaps himself down into a seat in the small dining room, blinking blearily.

Dillen is still on the couch, finishing the cherubic face of one of the children. He takes a big sniff of the air and then blows it out, "Hey. You think we could make this a place for a headquarters without pissing off the wife too much?" He gives a lofty grin to the two, giving a look to the bedroom where Freya is still most likely sleeping.

"Well," Kevin ventures through the kitchen door, "we have to have it some place. And my room back at Roachland is about the size of a broom closet. I guess, if we're all decided we're going to claim territory over at SCCU, we should have a base nearby?"

That makes him wake up with a snap. Kenneth sits up way too straight, jerking his eyes towards the bedroom door, then whirling around to snap at the Get. "You brought your /kin/ here?!" he hisses with invisible hackles standing stiff. "You /idiot/!"

Dillen nods. "It's close enough, I think. And if nothing else I can make sure that the bedroom has all that she needs in case of rage attack." He smudges a line with his finger. Then Kenneth's words get an eyebrow from him, "The apartment was given to her you idiot. One Kin to another, it's in her freakin name." At this Dillen stands from his place and looks down on the Shadow Lord. "Want to make something of it?"

Kevin finds himself standing in the kitchen doorway between the two suddenly warlike packmates. "Guys. Guys." He raises his hands. "No slinging insults before breakfast. Eat first. If you still feel mad after, /then/ you can start throwing things at each other."

Kenneth scoots his chair back, standing and hunching stiffly. "It's a full /fucking/ moon, so don't think yourself wise. One flimsy little door isn't gonna protect her if any one of us frenzy in here," he growls deeply.

Dillen shakes his head, "Trust me. Ain't nobody getting to her." Dillen says this as a solemn promise. "The door is reinforced. I think Brom did that. Take a Tank missile to get through it. Plus, right now... She'd kick my ass in her present state. Been getting grumpy. Ready to have that kid."

Kevin remains between the Shadow Lord and the Get, pre-emptively. His eyes turn to the stove. "Is it safe for me to serve up breakfast yet?" he drawls cautiously, eyes moving between the other two.

"No." Kenneth grinds his teeth, uttering that syllable from between them. "I don't think it's smart that she's here. She's human, and she can't stay in there forever while we're here. Either she goes somewhere else, or I'm out. I'm not gonna risk kin getting tore up - especially kin that ain't mine." The breakfast comment earns Kevin a quick glare.

Dillen tilts his head to one side, looking at Kenneth, "Dude. She is safe. And in her present condition, I need to know where she is. She's close to having that baby and I am gonna damn well be there... I don't care what moon it is. Now, get over whatever is your problem and eat some breakfast." And with that Dillen flops back down on the couch.

The bacon starts to sizzle on the stove with the sort of urgent sound and smell that advises it'll be burning very soon unless tended. Kevin gives Kenneth a pleading look. "Come on, Kenneth," he cajoles. "You'll feel less of a grump after eating. I never yet saw a garou go into frenzy half way through a good square meal."

Kenneth clenches and unclenches his fists, lips curling in a silent, withheld snarl. "My /problem/ is that... Fuck it." The philodox clips his words off, snapping his head to a side and storming off towards the bathroom. The door to it, to his credit, doesn't slam shut.

Dillen blows out a long breath and runs a hand through his hair. "Lots." To Kevin, in reference to how much food he wants.

Kevin salvages the breakfast just before it's lost to overcooking and dishes it out. He selects two plates, pauses, then adds a third, pauses again. "/Is/ she really here?" he asks Dillen, his hand hovering over a fourth plate.

Dillen shakes his head, "Yeah. She's here. In the bedroom." He shoots a thumb in that direction. "Probably like some breakfast as well." He gets up and grabs a plate, working his way back into the back bedroom. He stays there for a little while.

The sound of water running in the bathroom can be heard. Kenneth remains inside, still not coming out yet.

Kevin adds the fourth plate and divides the food. Luckily he's cooked plenty, though it's notable that he gives one particular plate an extra hotcake and a couple of link sausages over the average. This done, he selects one of the others and retires to a chair to tuck in with a fork. "Damn, this would go so much better with HP Sauce," he grumbles sadly.

Dillen makes his way back into the living area and picks up a plate, yes the big one. "What the hell is HP sauce?" As he pulls over a fork and stabs into it. "And Freya says thanks and she's fine." Dillen chuckles as if he knows something the rest don't as the door locks locks several locks.

"Like ketchup," Kevin informs Dillen, "only less sweet and tomato-ey. One of those things you poor benighted Yanks don't have." He chews a sausage. "Cold breakfast ready in five minutes, Kenneth!" he calls towards the bathroom.

"Oh." Dillen says, like it matters really. He looks towards the bathroom and just shakes his head, eating a bite of his breakfast.

The water stops running, and soon Kenneth exits the bathroom looking more cleaned up. Hair brushed, face washed, teeth brushed... Don't mind the Shadow Lord. He takes one look at his two packmates, narrows his eyes, and approaches them at the table, sitting down and taking the remaining plate. All in silence. When he eats, it's also in silence, and done so quickly. No savoring of the taste, really, just methodical chewing and swallowing.

Kevin, contrariwise, seems to enjoy his breakfast as much as usual, which is plenty. As Natalie once commented, the boy must have hollow legs. "OK," he says at one point between mouthfuls, "/are/ we fixing on SCCU as our new territory? Is it all done and dusted?"

Dillen just continues on looking eating and looks to Kevin. "Yeah, pretty much. We are all surely Urrah as Circle Keeper would say. I mean, all our girls are in the city and I know at least mine goes to the college... So it makes some sense." he stabs a big fork full of pancake and shoves it, enjoying the taste.

Kenneth continues eating, not saying a word, eyes kept solely on his plate.

Kevin nods amicably. "Then it's settled. We three, we hardcore three... we're gonna take care of that damn place." He waves his fork aloft like a weapon. "Plus, did you say that cub of yours, Dillen, was maybe going to come aboard once he's cliath?"

Dillen nods his head, "Yeah, he and I had a long talk yesterday. He's an all right kid." Dillen looks over at Kenneth and slightly shakes his head before he looks back to Kevin, "Plus, he fights like a madman. Snae will like that. I'd like to see this pack stay young. We've been through a lot of shit and we are still here and that is for one reason, We kick ass. Period."

"I remember him in that churchyard," Kevin reminisces. "He's no slouch. Cub was fighting as well as some cliaths I could name. If he can get Snae to accept him, I'm easy with the guy."

Kenneth finishes off what's left on his plate, stands and takes it to the sink. There's a muttering of what sounds like a foreign utterance of thanks, and then he's going back to the bedroom. It's just a few moments later that he re-emerges with his tennis raquet bag, and starts for the door. Not so much as a goodbye goes to his packmates, as he slips out.

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