Meeting Giles
4/30/2006
04:38 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.
Currently the moon is in the waxing New Moon phase (18% full).
It is currently 16:27 Pacific Time on Sun Apr 30 2006.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 55 degrees Fahrenheit (12 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from variable directions at 6 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.35 and falling, and the relative humidity is 41 percent. The dewpoint is 32 degrees Fahrenheit (0 degrees Celsius.)
Odeon - Lobby(#4049RJ)
The Odeon's lobby is testament to a faded and perverted glory. The deep crimson carpet is thick in places but in others stubbly as velveteen, and the rich pattern of tangling flowers is everywhere marred by dark stains. The walls are clothed in kingly purple tatters of wallpaper, and covered with faded posters featuring women and men in various states of undress, posing with various degrees of tastelessness, and screaming out titles like "Male Service", "Bang Bang: a Sexual Explosion", and "A Slip of Her Tongue" in garish lettering. There's no light in the room but what comes in from the street, and during the day the actresses look grey and ghoulish, and the bright reds and purples of the room faded and dusky; and at night, the place might as well be covered in thick black paint.
Immediately in front of the entrance is dull matte turnstyle which no longer turns, where once tickets were taken. To the right are a pair of doors which some joker has labelled "Pimps" and "Hos" with red spraypaint: these are the washrooms. To the left are a pair of doorways which lack actual doors, and opposite is a grand set of boarded doors which lead into the theatre proper.
Please check +view for further description.
Contents:
Olga
Aaron
Obvious exits:
Upstairs THeatre Street
The front door of the lobby jiggles a bit before it opens. Coming in from the cloudy weather, Yi has removed her jacket and tied it about her waist. "Hello?" she calls in. "Anyone home?"
Olga sits in the office, the desk her moldy throne, pale-faced in the grey light that comes in through the broken window. Her back is to the door, her face pointed up at the dingy monotony of clouds visible in a thin line above the dusty red tops of buildings. She doesn't seem to be doing much of anything; her arms support a sagging, hunched over frame. "Hey Yi," she calls out at the Ragabash' entry, though she doesn't turn to see her.
"Olga." Yi pokes in at the office doorway, standing there. "... You were missed at moot," she adds in a slight, quiet tone that carries just the hints of tension around it. "Have you heard, yet?"
Olga's answer is "Heard what?" but her voice is rough and thoughtful enough to indicate that there's been concern and stress there long before any news Yi might be bringing. "Have the judges judged yet? This is too soon," she continues, impatient, turning around now, the desk beneath her creaking as if it were seconds from collapse.
Yi takes the hint, leaving the subject alone. "I should leave an extra set of keys somewhere, with you or..." The fostern starts to speak again, more like thinking aloud. But she doesn't finish. "Eh." With that, she leans against the doorway, head dropping back against it.
With wild hair and dark rings under his eyes, the Ahroun come crashing into the Odeon not long after Yi. A heavy slam of the door as he swings it shut loudly and causing the walls of the sound building to rattle. The teenager looks like a raging bull, huffing heavily through his flaring nostrils. It's a new moon but the Ahroun has been burning through rage like free beer at a fraternity house party. Aaron stops in his tracks and flairs his arms while interrupting the two in their discussion. "What the FUCK is going on?" he tries to yell but reality interrupts as he realizes that his vocal cords no longer work, thus his yell is only a forced whisper. He starts signing instead, 'Basil had broken the first tenet? And who is this Giles lurking around outside the Odeon?'
Olga, in the office, can't see the boy as he enters, just the dimness of the lobby - even Yi at the moment is hidden by wall - but the violence of his entry and the silence ensuing after gives her some idea. "Is that our savage friend?" she asks, ostensibly to Yi, as with groans of wood she dismounts the desk, and with stiff movements puts herself squarely in the doorframe.
Yi takes a few steps back and turns abruptly as the doors slam open. That's enough heralding. "Yes," she answers the theurge simply, before watching Aaron's angry signing. "Yes," she answers him as well, considerably stiffer in posture and with a glance towards the open door. "If you wish to call such an act 'mating'," the ragabash adds, moving towards the door to close and lock it.
Aaron looks towards the door suspiciously. The Ahroun stiffens his posture and looks between the two with a scowl. He ignores the litany breaking situation for a moment, although it is clearly still in his thoughts. 'Has this stranger been checked for Wyrm-taint?' he asks.
Olga watches Aaron closely: the flamelike flicker of fingers and palm is too fast, a stream of disassociated gestures, and she struggles through it like a child; her eyes are hard, her cheeks harder, and she doesn't move from her doorway. "I never met him," is all she answers, leaving, like Aaron, the other matter behind.
The door is shut, and Yi soon returns. She misses the latter signing, but takes up a spot anyway within this other topic. "I have never heard of someone named .. Giles." It's pronounced with a hard 'g'. "Who is that?"
'He is different, like there is something wrong with him. The man calls himself Scruffy and said he is Garou. He might even still be in the alley around teh corner.' The Ahroun signs a little more slowly. He looks towards the two, his deep scowl still has not faded.
This is a lot of words, and Olga's silent as she muddles through them in the dim light, face grey and worn. She glances at Yi for a half a second, and then looks back at Aaron, and offers, straightforwardly, husky-voiced, "Well, let's go see." Without waiting for further information or debate, she slinks from the doorway, and trudges towards the door.
Yi blinks a few times, glancing at Olga and then nods. "Then, let's," she murmurs, glad to move again and furrowing her brow slightly with the description of the man.
Aaron shifts down to lupus before venturing outside the Odeon. His tail makes broad sweeps behind him despite his foreboding temper.
Olga stops at the door, fingers resting gently, uncertainly at the lock; she looks down, slowly, at the wolf beside her, and says, equally slowly, though her voice is rough like ground stone, "You should be in Homid. In the state you're in, you look half-rabid, and we don't need animal control down here _again_." She waits for accord - or disagreement - before turning the shining metal lock.
The man saw me in wolf, Savages answers with a flicker of his ears. No wolf. I stay. He is not arguing, per say, with Olga, but he is stating a fact.
"You shouldn't go out like that," Olga repeats, still in that same tone, slow and raspy like she's not had enough to drink. "You endanger us all, especially the kin." With that, still without any direct forbiddance, she snaps the lock, and the door rattles open on ancient hinges, before she pushes out.
Slipping away from the doorframe, Yi nods. "Well, let's go see this Scruffy man then. We should be ok, as long as you don't bite him."
No bite. The wolf replies, ignoring Olga. He is not the happiest of creatures at the moment in any form that he takes. Stay near, act like owned dog.
"You don't look like no damned dog," Olga repeats herself, drudgingly, though right now there's no will in her to argue the point. She jostles out the doorway, and her shoes slap the sidewalk, more weary than unhappy as she covers the short ground to the nearby alley, wordless.
Filthy Alley(#3412RJ)
A grimy brick walled alleyway threading between tumbledown tenement housing for the factory workers and an abandoned strip mall. Stale grey water stands in pools here, and rotting heaps of garbage provide a breeding ground for the rats and ... other things here. The crumbling brick walls have the ghosts of old painted advertising on them, now mostly obliterated by tags and strangely evocative paintings made by the local gangs. Here and there, wires or ancient laundry lines stretch between the buildings, like tendons gone thin and old. A pile of rusting dumpsters almost blocks one end of the alley, and all the doors facing here are either boarded shut or padlocked with signs saying that all property within has been confiscated by the City. A few old loading docks towards the east end provide sleeping pads for winos and mini-arenas for gang kids to combat dance.
Contents:
Olga
Giles
Savages-Enemy
Masao
Obvious exits:
Odeon Theatre Industrial Sector Jermantown Avenue
Giles huddles at the far end of the alley in his torn and badly, badly dirtied suit, his knees pulled up to his thin chest and his hands (covered in dried blood and as filthy as his clothes) clasped atop his head. His face is pressed against his knees, but those with better-than-human ears can hear him muttering to himself. "I know," he says, voice muffled. "I know, I know, I know, I know, I know..."
One of three, Yi goes quiet when they go to investigate the alleys around the theater. She looks occassionally to the fullmoon in the wolf, taking some signal from him on who is the 'culprit' weirdo hanging around.
Savages-Enemy walks alongside Yi when they come out of the Odeon, ignoring Olga completely. His ears perk as he walks into the alley and can smell the man from nearby the entrance. He is there, the wolf gestures to the man at the end of the alley muttering to himself.
The late evening light means the alley is dark shadow, and Olga appears to relax as she enters into it, some of the tension easing out of her, no longer moving in that stiff sidewalk-slapping linebacker's walk. She moves towards the man at the end of the alley, letting her thick hands find their way into pockets, lifting her chin in sloppy greeting. "Hey," she calls out, trying to keep her voice smoothe and unthreatening, though there's still that thickness to it like she needs a glass of water.
[look Giles]
Giles Ellis is a little over six feet tall and thin, his angular body clothed in a tattered and much-abused slate-colored three-piece suit. One may well imagine that it used to be quite a nice suit (back in the 1970s), but now it bears deep, dark stains and random tears, especially at the elbows and knees. The brown dress shoes are badly scuffed, and he isn't wearing socks. In contrast, the white button-up shirt looks almost clean, and the black necktie is very neatly knotted, even if it isn't tucked into the waistcoat.
The man himself appears to be in his early to mid thirties, and underneath the reddish five-o'clock stubble and the overlong, tangled auburn hair he has slender, patrician features, with well-defined cheekbones and a large, hawkish nose. There are bags under his hazel eyes and dirt under his ragged fingernails. His palms, when glimpsed, have pentagrams etched into him in thin red lines of abused flesh.
Yi trails alongside the theurge and ahroun, though it could be noted how she sticks a little closer to the walls. Rather than speak to the muttering man, though, she acts as a silent backup to Olga. A minute nod goes to Savages about which man he notes as the stranger, and her eyes take in what she can in the dimmer portion of the alley about him.
"I know, I know," Giles continues to mutter, like a broken record. Two seconds after Olga's greeting, he jerks his head up away from his knees. The bottom half of his face is smeared with dried blood, and his eyes are restless and distracted. He looks at all of them, and at other spots around them. The words trail off, but his lips continue to move, soundlessly forming them.
Rounding a street corner within view of the Odeon, Masao comes ambling towards the building with a decided lack of quickness. She misses catching sight of the trio of tribelies by only a few scant moments, but will probably pass near the alley within a few minutes.
Savages-Enemy sits behind the dumpster, away from the street but also not in direct view of the man that he had bumped into earlier. He simply watches Olga and Yi try to communicate with him.
Olga introduces herself by shuffling a hand out of her jacket and slapping herself on the chest, gorilla-like, dominant, despite the strained softness of her voice and the slow intentness of her voice. "'M Olga," she says, slowly. "This is Yi," she says, with a flutter of fingers towards the Ragabash. "That's Aaron," she says, pointing vaguely at the mutt beyond view. "You two met before, I hear."
Yi dips her head quite amiably, though her gaze is considerably less so as she takes in Giles' appearance. "You are hurt," she points out with all obviousness.
Giles puts one hand over his mouth, stilling the flow of words. His eyes flick in Yi's direction, briefly, and then to each of the others who are introduced. The hand comes away from his mouth and extends toward them, palm out. "The lark bleeds," he says. His only obvious wounds, apart from a few scrapes at his exposed elbows and knees, are the pentagrams cut into his palms... and those are at the first stages of scabbing.
Masao casts glances at this and that as she walks, arms folded across her chest. As she starts to pass the alley, her head turns to look down it with a bland expression, then back towards the street as she walks by. She's out of sight for barely a second before her head comes back into view, blinking first at Aaron, then peering owlishly in at more recognizeable shapes further in.
"Okay," Olga answers flatly, non-judgemental but not exactly humouring, either. She's quiet for a moment, eyes trickling down from the blood at his mouth to the ripped flesh of his hands. "Your name's Scruffy," she says, firmly, as if it might be contested, as if the man might have forgotten. Her next is a question, though still firm, probing and hard. "You family?"
Savages-Enemy turns his head and notices Masao, but the wolf does not communicate anything towards her. He remains silent, but his eyes look calmy towards her than they had before the evening previously.
Yi looks a bit perturbed by the man's response. Her eyes narrow a touch at the sight of the pentagrams. For now she gives Olga the right of way, conversationally and instead glances back towards the alley mouth, back towards Aaron, and back towards Masao. With a gesturing of her head, she signals the other ragabash to come on over and join in this pseudo-investigation.
"Family," he echoes, nodding tentatively. His lips stretch into a nervous smile, like a dog wondering if it's going to be hit or fed. "Giles, Scruffy... from... from, from, from, fr--" He stops the repeat loop right off the bat this time, with a hand clapped across his mouth, teeth pinching the fleshy base of his middle finger.
Masao gives her four-pawed tribemate a half-smile that bears a tiny note of apology before Yi's gesture diverts her attention. Ruffling her hair out of her eyes, she ambles towards the elder newmoon with wary inquisition on her face but no words to go with it.
The Ahroun lightly shakes his head to his ritemate before returning his attention to the skitterish man in the alley.
"S'okay," Olga says slowly, thickly, trying to be kind through the heavy, disapproving set of her brows, and the hawk's predatory beak of a nose. She glances back at Masao, slowly curiously, with a stretch of eyebrows, though she doesn't address the girl herself. "This's Masao," she instead introduces her to the shambles of a man at the alley's end. She looks at him for a full second, oppressively silent, before offering bluntly, "You want to come inside?" It's a second later before she adds, more hopefully, more insidiously, "You hungry?"
Yi considers Giles still, and she's no doubt more defensive. "Do we have any food to give him?" she queries the theurge, her voice quiet but not quite as inviting. Once Masao's around, the fostern looks forcibly less agitated.
Giles, rather than take his hand away from his mouth, simply nods a little and, using his free hand to brace against the wall, pushes himself to his feet.
Masao bobs her head to the man, directing a half-glance at Olga afterwards. She looks a little rough around the edges, but reasonably calm. Refocusing on Giles, she looks him over gradually and tries not to focus on his hands for too long.
Olga takes a step back as Giles rises off the ground, giving him space, leisurely moving by inches back to the alley's mouth. "If we don't, Rat'll provide," the Theurge answers Yi, in confidence so firm it's unremarkable and commonplace. "Masao, this's Scruffy," she offers the young Ragabash in further introduction. "C'm'on, Scruffy, this way." Her pace is slow, like she's afraid of losing him somewhere along the alley's straight path.
"And so we trust," Yi murmurs, the backing off evidenced by her return to a passive tone. She steps aside to give Giles the chance to fall in behind Olga, remaining as the other half of the people-sandwich. She gives a short 'check it out' glance to Masao, noting the newcomer's cut up palms.
Giles nods again, keeping his free arm close to his chest and his other hand over his mouth. He walks shoulders-hunched and tender-footed, like a nervous bird. Over his dirty, muffling hand and beakish nose, his hazel eyes are wide and and restless.
Savages-Enemy reluctantly shifts into homid from behind the dumpster as he slisp behind it for a moment. He folds his arms across his chest, looking much like a club bouncer but much limber and smaller stature. The teenager pulls a candy bar from his pocket and steps forward.
Masao responds with a tiny smile and another bob of her head. She doesn't address him, instead letting him keep centered on Olga for the time being. The glance from Yi earns a slow, comprehending nod and a slight widening of her eyes.
When Aaron shifts Olga's eyes go wide, her mouth snaps into an ugly sneer. Immediately her eyes go whirling up to the windows of the tenements whose crumbling walls in part form this alley, searching for faces, listening for voices, or screams - she doesn't say a word but her steps quicken until she seems to want the asphalt to shudder beneath her step, and she bursts from the alley and wheels quickly towards Odeon.
"Aaron!" Yi bites off quickly, quietly but no less reprimandingly with also a wary glance about. Her gaze comes to rest upon Giles, to ultimately gauge his reaction to the shift.
Giles quickens his own pace a little, but lags well behind Olga as, head down and shoulders up, he follows her. He keeps his eyes focussed on the backs of Olga's legs and if he notices Aaron's shift at all, he doesn't react.
Aaron gives Olga a dark look as he steps from behind the dumpster. He wasn't particularly in anyone's view while he was shifting and it has gotten darker in the alley besides. The Ahroun silently growls and then turns from the alley, but he doesn't head towards the Odeon. Instead, he moves in the opposite direction. He doesn't wait for anyone to call after him, he just starts running away.
Masao tenses at the reactions and drops her shoulders defensively, mostly out of habit. Looking after Aaron, she visibly debates the idea of following him for a moment, then chooses not to. Hunching up inside her sweater, she watches Giles as well and lets out a small, relieved breath when chaos doesn't ensue.
Olga stops at the Odeon's ramshackle door, holding it wide for Giles to enter, straining it against its hinges like it's going to snap. She stares at Aaron as he leaves, her face set grim and ugly, even Giles gets only secondary attention. She lets the Gnawers pass by her, into the darkness of the lobby beyond, except for Yi, whom she attempts to stop with a look at the lobby door.
Yi at least catches said look at the door, pausing with a gaze back at the theurge. A 'what is it?' type of blink comes from her, then another gaze is sent back out streetside down the way after Aaron.
Giles, meanwhile, trots into the Odeon, as docile as can be.
Masao ducks quickly by Olga and pauses just inside the lobby to look back at her Elder and Yi. Her brow creases slightly in concern, but she holds her tongue.
"I'm going to go talk to him," Olga explains, as Aaron's figure blurs into the city's background. She speaks quietly, unenthusiastically, like it's purposeless duty. "'R try to, at least. Take care of," she lets out, softly, looking into the dim grey lobby lit only by the lit that creeps in through the still-open door, "him. Luna may have touched him for a reason. Give him a bed if he wants it, treat him like family. But keep him away from Squeaks, and somebody's always gotta be around. I'll be back soon. If..." She breaks off, lip-chewing and consternated, before she finally manages to offer "There's a half a burrito and a zip-loc of cheetos at the bottom of my bag. Y'can look through it for him."
"Sure." It's a hesitant sort of acceptance of the commands, though the way Yi agrees, it's more like her concession to the suggestions made. "Food it is." And then, she proceeds inside after Giles, rounding around him and generally herding him towards the office.
Odeon - Lobby(#4049RJ)
The Odeon's lobby is testament to a faded and perverted glory. The deep crimson carpet is thick in places but in others stubbly as velveteen, and the rich pattern of tangling flowers is everywhere marred by dark stains. The walls are clothed in kingly purple tatters of wallpaper, and covered with faded posters featuring women and men in various states of undress, posing with various degrees of tastelessness, and screaming out titles like "Male Service", "Bang Bang: a Sexual Explosion", and "A Slip of Her Tongue" in garish lettering. There's no light in the room but what comes in from the street, and during the day the actresses look grey and ghoulish, and the bright reds and purples of the room faded and dusky; and at night, the place might as well be covered in thick black paint.
Immediately in front of the entrance is dull matte turnstyle which no longer turns, where once tickets were taken. To the right are a pair of doors which some joker has labelled "Pimps" and "Hos" with red spraypaint: these are the washrooms. To the left are a pair of doorways which lack actual doors, and opposite is a grand set of boarded doors which lead into the theatre proper.
Please check +view for further description.
Obvious exits:
Upstairs THeatre Street
[+view office]
There's no door to the office, just a big gaping doorway leading to a room overwhelmed by a massive wood desk. It's hard to imagine how someone managed to get it in here in the first place:it occupies the room like a shoe does a shoebox, like the place has been built around it rather than the desk's been brought in to fill it. It's a sturdy wooden shrine to business and respectability, filled to overflowing with dust and smelling of something rank and rotten. Inside are some green things which surely could once have been identified as some kind of food. The top of the desk has been scraped clear of dust and there's even a quilted blanket on top of it; a makeshift bed perhaps, or a table. Around the edges of the room a thick grey film is transforming itself into a grimy black gunk, but the path from the doorway to the desk has been mostly swept clear. The place experienced a long and dusty period of disuse, but now some care seems to be payed. A small window placed high in the wall lets light pour in, so that during the day this is the brightest room on the ground floor.
[Olga pages: All sorts of things. A blanket, spare clothes in various states between rags and Salvation Army stuff, a box of Zip-Loc bags, a salt shaker (full), a big bottle of cheap scotch with maybe a shot left, wire cutters, glue-be-gone, enough bandannas to strangle an elephant, a knife, a rock, a paintbrush, a deck of cards (missing the jack and the ace of clubs), a broken radio that might be repairable, sewing supplies, spray paint, an empty pack of cigarette's with `Craig's` scrawled across it in black marker, a stack of paper, pens (which may or may not work), a couple books, a photograph of her and Joey, other sundries I don't have time to mention, and the aforementioned food (plus some fruit that's halfway rotten). It's her whole life in there, anything she's ever seen and thought might be worth keeping. It's a big bag. Perhaps most odd though are the unopened cans of white paint it's slouched against that look like they may have actually been purchased at an honest-to-God store for honest-to-God money (though there's no receipt).]
Giles lets those much smaller than him herd him to wherever it is they want him to be. He's paying more attention to the decor, as his head turns this way and that, taking in a detail here, a detail there. His hand remains clamped over his mouth, teeth biting bloodlessly down on his middle finger.
Masao lets out a small breath as things resolve themselves for the moment and turns her attention to the new arrival. "I got an extra blanket or two, I think, if it'd help." she says quietly, making her movements calm and deliberate for the time being.
Yi rifles through Olga's bag until she does come down to aforementioned burrito bit and cheetos. Score! At least, for a Gnawer. Pulling them out, she casts another short gaze into the bag before returning the bag to its previous corner, and holding it out to the man. It's held a bit closer to her though, as if to entice his chewed on appendage to reach for it. "Yes Masao, please. And Scruffy, you can sit in the office. It is where we like to hold meetings." Well, the desk of the office anyway. And a meeting this might be called. "Any questions?"
Giles takes his hand away from his mouth, mouth twitching into a hesitant, uncertain little smile as he reaches for the bag. "Questions?" he echoes, and his hand stops inches away from the bag and then returns to rub at the flaking, dried blood around his mouth and chin. "Ah... I'm, the, the, the..." He lifts his hand to his temple, dirty fingers barely brushing the tangled auburn hair and twitching in time with the repeated word. "...the, the, I'm... Gnawer. G-Galliard." It's not a true stutter. More like a mental record (or compact disc, to you youngsters) that keeps skipping.
Giles takes his hand away from his mouth, mouth twitching into a hesitant, uncertain little smile as he reaches for the bag. "Questions?" he echoes, and his hand stops inches away from the bag and then returns to rub at the flaking, dried blood around his mouth and chin. "Ah... I'm, the, the, the..." He lifts his hand to his temple, dirty fingers barely brushing the tangled auburn hair and twitching in time with the repeated word. "...the, the, I'm... Gnawer. G-Galliard." It's not a true stutter. More like a mental record (or compact disc, to you youngsters) that keeps skipping.
"Well, that's a start." Masao says, finding a somewhat comfortable place to lean and listen for now.
Yi keeps on attempting to be patient, listening to the repeated words. "Galliard?" she echoes, her gaze flicking over to Sao for a moment, and then turning back to the man. Her manner goes a bit more dominant and firm as she states clearly, "Shift. Crinos. Now."
Giles's fingers continue to twitch near the side of his head, each one in regular sequence: thumb, pinky, index, ring, middle. His smile withers slowly, and he shifts his weight from one battered shoe to the other. "Shift, no... no, no, no..." He shakes his head a little, and then again, looking at the floor. "...no, no, it's not the crime, she doesn't want me to."
Masao raises an eyebrow and looks a little perplexed by Giles' behavior. Then, she blinks and switches to a strained smile. "He reminds me of old Joe..." she murmurs, watching the man closely.
Frowning just along the edges of her already wan smile, Yi takes a step forward towards Giles. As she does, she bulks up into her Glabro form, nearly matching him in height then. She looks him dead on in the eyes, when she can. "My name is Yi," the ragabash introduces herself again with a deeper toned, huskier voice. "I am also known to the Bone Gnawers as Runs-the-Gauntlet, Fostern Ragabash, member of the Sept of the Hidden Walk. I commanded you to shift, Scruffy." Everything is said in as clear and crisp a pronounciation as she can get.
Giles avoids Yi's eyes and keeps shaking his lowered head. His shoulders are hunched, and he leans very slightly away from the Fostern. His tone of voice is apologetic but agitated. "She'll be angerly, she doesn't want it, the... the-the-the, the *time*, it's not, it's--" He flickers a beseeching glance upward, eyes pinging back and forth between the two of them as he gets stuck on that last word. "...it's, it's, it's, it's, it's..."
Masao sucks her breath in slowly and waits, though it's a restless waiting as one foot wants to tap. "Wasn't no one else in the alley, was there?" she directs to Yi sidelong.
Yi releases a rather angry and frustrated hiss of a sigh, but doesn't press too hard. "It's /what/?" she asks sharply, eyes glittering in her barbaric looking face. By her lack of verbal answer to the other ragabash, she seems to answer the other's query with an affirming tilt of her head.
Giles cringes back from Yi, retreating a step. "...it's, it's, it's..." The word loses all sense as he repeats it.
Yi lifts a hand and then drops it loosely. Uttering something that sounds like an apology, she shrinks back down into her breed form, instead offering out the burrito and cheetos in ziploc. "You can eat in the office," she indicates towards the open door. "I will go get a light from the theater," she says aloud to tell the pair. "Masao, you heard Olga right? One of us needs to be here at all times. I will take first shift, for now."
Masao lets out that inhaled breath and nods, "I heard, and I hear ya. You just lemme know when it's my turn. I'll prolly be...in the other room." she chooses the last words carefully and chews on her lower lip.
Giles, still muttering "it's" over and over again (though, mercifully, more quietly, the broken-record muttering subsiding to a softer and softer whisper), takes the proffered food and retreats back into the office. He sinks down in the furthest corner, holding the food close to his chest.
Yi at least looks relieved when the food is taken, and promptly whisks down towards the theater to get one of the candles and a cheap camping lamp, which she returns with soon. "I will call you," she tells her fellow no-moon, and gives a bit more of a reassuring smile. "Rest well."
"I'll try that." Masao says calmly, returning the smile and moving towards the theater herself. Pausing by the door, she looks over her shoulder towards Gnawers old and new, and carefully slips through into the dark there.
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