Wolf Born [Gina, Fire-Claws][Cont. from First Guest]

[Drew Roscoe] This neighborhood was as tired and worn out as any in the Cabrini was. The season didn't help the case any, it made everything look gray, desolate and faded out. Many of the homes were small one-story affairs, intermittently spaced by the occasional two-story building. One of these was painted with a fading light blue paint, shutters white and pushed open so that the warm yellow lights from inside glowed out on the front yard. There was a big Dodge Ram in the driveway, no fence in the yard.

What could be found in the yard was a pair of young women, set back on the porch and favoring cups of something warm and steaming. They were side-by-side on the front step, giggling and nudging one another occasionally. Both were small, one with a thrum of Strider's blood in their veins, the other with the icy lick of Fenris in her's. They had their coats, their mittens, their boots and shoes. They were smart enough to keep warm when outside-- but apparently not smart enough to stay inside.

Something about fresh air helped, even if it was laced with the pollutants of the city. The Full Moon glowed through breaks in the clouds onto the snow of the front yard, onto the faces of the two-- one light and the other dark. They were flushed with cold and a bit of liquid encouragement as well. Girls' Night In.

[Gina McClaren] *Deeply Tipsy, soon to be drunk. Thats what Gina was. The Strider had become something of a sparing drinker these days, but when she did drink, it was to forget. Which called for hard liquor, and lots of it, a healthy dollop of Amaretto jazzing up coffee. The tawny strider kin has a knit shawl draped over her head and shoulders, her elbow bouncing against that of the Get kin in booze fueled levity. Enchanting singsong bouncing overloud down the empty block as she teases.*

Honest tae god darlin, he used hes damn musk on a folk, an fookin LEFT me. Ah could o' fookin Killed hem!

[Fire-Claws] The Cabrini-Green was, even in its greatest times, a shit hole in the depth of the scab. It was isolated from anything that a garou would call worthwhile. The beauty of open fields and lovely fresh springs were substituted for condemned, condensed houses and inky black roads of black top or cement. The winter only made it worse, hiding what little shoots of natural wonder that could snake its way up.

No he hated this place, but this was where his Jarl called home. Kora's territory. And maybe she would have some advice on dealing with that little.... girl. Teenage girls were difficult enough, teenage girls who were cubs were even worse, teenage girls with rage that he had to teach. It was pure luck he didn't snap last night and kill her. Maybe Kora would have something to help him with that pup.

Which left the man walking through the street, his head snapping to the left or right with each sound. His body on edge as the moon above drew out the worst in him, waiting for a chance to just kill, hunt. Anything. The aura of his rage a shield against most who would even think of looking at him. A signal to those who know what to look for however.

[Drew Roscoe] "Musk? Disgusting, I can only imagine..."

Drew shook her head, nose and cheeks flushed both. She didn't have a hat on, her heavy brown hair was left to fall down past her shoulders. She was curled over her spiked coffee, warming her face with the steam and her throat with the smell and belly with the drink. She's grinning, and it's a hearty, cheery expression. Her laugh doesn't sound like music in the way Gina's does, but it's honest and warm. Gina's bouncing her elbow against her, and Drew's leaning away from it, grinning hard enough that her eyes squint closed for a moment.

"I got dumped once," she admitted, and adjusted the red-and-black plaid blanket around her shoulders, where it rested over the heavy sweatshirt she was wearing in substitute of a winter jacket. "Just the once. High school." She waved her hand dismissively. He was a human boy, those didn't come around anymore. She might have had a story behind that mention, but her train of thought is lost by the man rounding the corner and coming up the sidewalk, his head jerking from left to right, eyes hunting the shadows between houses, expression distasteful and body rigid, on edge.

Drew nodded her head toward him, lifted a hand to scrub at her chest, like she's trying to massage away heartburn (though it was the effect of Rage under this moon, even from a distance). She murmured to Gina, intelligible still, not just yet slurring from alcohol (they'd had a few drinks tonight but keeping up with Boys had built a resistance). "Never seen him around here before."

[Gina McClaren] *Gina's been listening with a soft, liquored up smirk, her mug tucked close to her chest inside her half-buttoned wool coat. Stealing warmth like the thief she was. The Strider's cheery sing song as much an invitation as the warm glow of light from the shabby blue house's shuttered windows, as much a beacon as the kin with the potent breeding that sat beside her. A beat behind, brown eyes track to Fireclaws as he grows near, his rage crawling across her skin in a wash of unease. Pikey exclaiming a little more loudly than intended.*

Jaysus christ, ah fergot et was a full fookin moon. Wha ye reckon's hes problem?

*Thanks booze. We can always count on you for Tact.*

[Fire-Claws] He was not to look at, plain faced and rather dull looking touched only with what seemed to be southern accents about his features. In fact he was one that would be overlooked, if it wasn't for that inferno of rage and monster that boiled under his skin. Dressed in clothes that seemed pulled from the thrift racks, and that was being generous and a heavy black coat. His jeans were worn and old, tan worker boots. Plain.

He kept careful watch of what was around him, the shadows in this part of Chicago had eyes and teeth. Lurking for careless creatures to feed on. And he was ready for what could pounce. But his curious, wary eyes focused on a strange pair perched on a porch. Something he could not take his eyes away from.

A strider and a Get sitting on a porch....

[Drew Roscoe] Gina declares that it's a full moon, and Drew glances up to the sky, then hums faintly and nods her agreement. She stays on the porch for the time being, beside Gina with their sides pressed together, one wearing a coat and a shawl, the other a heavy gray athletic sweatshirt and a thick blanket over her shoulders like a cape.

"Dunno," she answers, and lifts her eyebrows when the man with the plain face and rust colored hair stared in her and Gina's direction and didn't look away. She's quiet for a few ticks of the second hand across the face of a clock inside on her kitchen wall, then cracks a friendly smile across her face and removes a hand from her coffee cup and holds it out to wave at Fire-Claws.

It's a greeting at first, then a gesture. Come on over.

[Gina McClaren] *Drew's cup is liberated as the pikey pours a little more liquor into it, yawning and leaning her head on the Get's shoulder in sisterly affection as the mug is handed back. Dark eyes follow Fireclaws with hazy suspicion as the Strider kin murmurs.*

Ye kain 'im though? We're nae callin tae a Spiral?

[Drew Roscoe] Gina's head comes to rest on Drew's shoulder-- they're similar in height but Drew's got a single inch on the Strider. If they were ten years younger that would be worth bragging rights. Now it meant nothing, though. Drew just grins as the coffee is diluted further and put back in her hand, then shakes her head.

"We'll find out, though!"

[Fire-Claws] He pauses a little while from the porch that the two sit and speak. Watching as the get woman starts to wave and motion for him to come closer. His head tilts one way then the next, eyes focused on the women. He slowly continues over now, watching careful as he moves to the fence and then beyond.

He does not join them immediately, does not introduce himself at first. Just carefully narrows his brow as he wanders closer and closer to the smell of breeding. Curious what the two are doing, together, without any true within sniffing range.

"Duj?"

His voice is a gnarled, mashing of the english language with a touch of the southern dialect. It was obvious he was not comfortable speaking it. Hell he might have been worse than the pikey.

[Kora] The only thing to recommend Cabrini-Green is the river, a foul thing that moves both ways because even the early Chicagoans - one hundred years ago - realized that dumping all their sewage in Lake Michigan was ill-advised, and that the river was too befouled to be salvageable. So they reengineered it away; redirected the flow. Sometimes in the river, it flows two directions; on St. Patrick's day, they dye it green.

The river and the Caern, hard against the eastern boundary of the territory. The gauntlet is thick here, but for a few spare blocks, the umbral reflection of the neighborhood is scoured clean. Down the street: a tall blond woman. She's wearing a wool coat, a scarf wrapped around her neck, the ends loose. Her hands are in her pockets, her jeans tucked into black Doc Marten's. She has a long-legged gait, and stands straight through the spine, level through the shoulders. There's no breeding to mark her from a distance, just that physical confidence. Just the way her gaze remains steady on Fire Claws, even from down the street.

When she's closer, half a block away, her human features resolve, become more familiar under the lamplight. Her attention - her interest - sharpens when Fire-Claws walks over to the fence, beyond it. That's when she tastes the breeding in the air - this supple, fine-drawn glance between the pair of kin and Fireclaws, connected by a taut silk thread of awareness.

[Gina McClaren] Och fookin christ.

*Half-drunk and unprotected was not how she wanted to "Find out" if a prowling fount of rage was Gaian or not. Both kin were small, and while both were known to be armed, Gina didn't fancy their chances against a black spiral dancer. Hell, she and the strider had failed against mere fomori, afterall. The bottom of a ceramic mug clacks against the stairs, buxom kin rising to her feet as the stranger (danger) drew near. Her fingers flicker inside her coatsleeves, only partially comforted at the feeling cool steel there.*

...Ah dinnae Kain "Duj". Speak fookin english.

[Drew Roscoe] Gina stands up, tense and a little bit wobbly, abandons her mug on the top step where her rear end was a moment ago. She's got her weapons stashed in her coat sleeve, if Drew's nearest was inside the house. She was being trusting and stupid tonight, it seemed. Reckless, inviting a man whose presence burned with the familiarity of family into her yard, to come by to visit.

He growls out a word, she had no idea what it meant or if it was even English. Ironically, the Pikey demanded he speak the proper language, and Drew chuckled good-naturedly at it. Rather than rise and be defensive as well, Drew stayed seated, took another sip of the cooling coffee and flashed a smile that was open, friendly, and warm as an apple pie cooling on a country house's window sill.

"You lose your way, stranger? Never seen you around here before."

Kora's up the street, only barely in view, but Drew's paying more mind to the unfamiliar face that she wants to believe will be friendly before her.

[Fire-Claws] His eyes turn on Gina quizzically. She seemed to be saying something in a language he did not know. But her body language spoke volumes that her words were lost on. The little strider girl was trying to become defensive, on edge. He could see it in her, and he almost bared his teeth back at her. In his way, warning the little one should she wish to play rough with him. Then it was back to the get kin, offering a smile in return. He twisted his head one way then another. Silent for a few moments as he just examined her, sniffed at the tainted air.

"Ya Get kin? Who duj?"

[Kora] ...and, Kora walks on.

[Drew Roscoe] Drew took another sip of coffee, then pushed herself up to her feet. One hand clutched the blanket closed, wadded up at her chest, and the other held the coffee cup out, offering it to the Foresti. She didn't know he was Fenrir, hell she didn't even know for sure he was Gaian. But it was impossible for a man to trust anyone if he did not extend the opportunity to trust and be trusted first. Nothing said peace like a cup of amaretto coffee.

"I am. Drew's the name. This's Gina." The smile stayed steady on her cold-blasted face. "Who're you?"

[Gina McClaren] *Dark eyes narrowed, gina forgets there is a step behind her. She knew of its existence when her drink had been more coffee than Amaretto. Alas, that was half an hour ago, and as a result when she steps back the stair jumps up at the back of her knee, and demands she sit back down. Hard. *

[Fire-Claws] He moves a bit closer now, at the base of the steps in what seemed like nothing more than a millisecond. The beast in him so close that it could almost be touched, his teeth mere feet from what could be the last thing that they ever know of. He could have them bloody in second and they know it. But he does not snap or bark or growl. He just...

Pulls the cup of coffee from Drew's hand, sniffing at the intense smell of cafe bean boiled down. After a few second he decides that it is safe to drink and takes several gulps down, licking at his lips unsure of what that strange taste is.

"Fira-claws. Forseti."

He turns in a snap when Gina lands hard on the step, dark brown eyes staring her down as she lands hard. Glaring at the clumsy girl, unaware of her state.

[Drew Roscoe] Gina tips backwards and lands in a hard sit on the step, and Drew blinks back at her, ponders for a second whether she could be concerned for how hard she landed, then looks back to Fire Claws while he comes closer, nostrils flaring and teeth itching, then reaches out and takes the cup of coffee she was offering. Her smile grew broader, happier when he downed the drink, and she turned and held out a hand to Gina, offering to help her back to her feet.

"Fire Claws... Foresti, huh? You're family, then." This is declared after she helps Gina up, if the Kin accepts the help anyways. If she opts to stay seated, Drew doesn't argue with her. Either way she turns back to the Garou, hands at her chest to hold the blanket closed there, fabric bunched up in fists with red knuckles and pale fingers from the sub-freezing temperatures.

There's a pause, then she rolls her head back toward the front door. "I've got hot food and drink inside. A spare bed if you're looking for it too. It's all open-door to Family."

[Gina McClaren] *Once upon a time, Gina was a vivacious and inviting woman. She still was - if you knew her. If you did not - well, chances were you never would. Trust something she gave out only sparingly these days. So where as once she would have laughed and introduced herself properly, perhaps flirted or scandalized - tonight she accepts Drew's hand and lullabies*

Reckon ah'm on me way home now darlin. Ah'll find meself a cab, aye?

[Fire-Claws] He licks at his lips a couple more times as he tries to get that taste out of his mouth. Opening his maw wider and wider he tries to yawn out the after taste of liquor. She speaks something about family and that she has food and a place to crash.

"Gud."

He watches the reaction of the strider kin as she seems to be upset at something, irked in some way. The drunk, buxom kin seeming to want to get out of there and soon. He does not say anything, just watches her keenly. Monkey kin act strange some time.

[Drew Roscoe] Drew's pulled Gina up, and the Strider is saying that she was about finished with the night, that she'd be on her way home with the help of a cab. Drew looks back at her and frowns some, her expression something close to protest for a second before melding into thought. She sniffs against the cold, finishes her thought process, and nods, smiling apologetically.

"Alright." She puts her arms around the other Kin and wraps her in a hug, blanket covering both of them for that time. "Sorry, but you know. Duty to family and all." Gina knew. She once had an open door policy, she'd been there before. Drew's trust was not dashed to the wind like Gina's had been, the Strider had endured far more. She's known Drew to have a strong sense of Tribal connection, since the night she found her wide-eyed and frightened in an alleyway, surrounded and pursued by members of her own tribe, though she didn't realize it then. A shouting match between her and a Skald close to her heart, another something witnessed by Gina, had marked a point of grudging half-acceptance, and that had blossomed into fierce loyalty.

Of course she'd invite the Fenrir in. She would any of them until given a reason to boot them out.

"I haven't got a landline connected yet, but my cell's on the coffee table." She released the curvy Kin and shrugged the blanket more securely about her shoulders before looking to Fire Claws again, studying him for a second with eyes that were only vaguely glazed-- she was warm about the face and belly with alcohol, lighter-hearted, but not to the point of stumbles and slurs. A hand lifted to hitch a thumb over her shoulder, and she smiled for the Philodox. "You're welcome in."

[Gina McClaren] *And so Gina nods, hugging Drew with a warmth reserved for few people these days. A curt nod to FireClaws and what might pass as a smile, before the kin that smells like spices and road dust is disappearing into the house.*

[Fire-Claws] He continually watches the pikey girl with interest as she seems want to have nothing to do with him. Strange kind those striders, always moving but without purpose. Not like back home with his pack, moving for reasons.

His attention returns to the Get girl as she motions towards the door. Following when she moves to go inside.

[Drew Roscoe] Gina enters first, Fire Claws watches her go, then looks back to Drew, who smiles at him, shrugs in a way that might have been apologetic if she was truly apologizing for anything rather than simply gesturing off muscle memory, then turns to lead him inside as well.

The front door leads directly into a living room sparsely furnished (suggesting that she'd only just recently moved in, that she hasn't had time to decorate and make it home) with dark brown couches, a television on an entertainment center against the wall to the left, and a bookshelf that hasn't been stocked with books yet. The kitchen is visible beyond that, a kitchen island with stools on the outside of it, and past that is the back of the house, a dining table and a sliding glass door after that. Somewhere else there has to be a staircase, there must be other rooms to the right because the living room does not make up the entire front of the house, only half.

Drew steps out of her boots and removes the blanket from her shoulders, folding it into fourths before draping it over the back of the loveseat. Gina's placed her phonecall, spoke quickly to the person on the other line, then bustled outside to wait on the curb-- happier in the cold than stuck in the room with a strange male Garou. Drew understood, she felt bad that Gina got chased out, but... well... it was duty. She'd have to make it up to the Pikey later.

Drew bid Gina farewell, and once the Strider was out the door and it had slapped closed behind her, Drew looked to Fire Claws, clapped her hands and rubbed them together, and nodded toward the kitchen. "There's more coffee in the pot if you like along with supper?" Asking before she bothered to go dish anything out. Breaking the ice after Gina flees so obviously.

[Fire-Claws] When offered inside, he moves just beyond view of the street. Eyes going from here to there and back again around the sparse little room. There was not much in the way of anything that can be called comfy for humans, or homely. It fit him quite well. Nothing like a dry, open den.

When the buxom little kin leaves, he turns back to Drew as she speaks. Watching her shift out of her boots and get ready to head to the kitchen. However when she turns her back, he doesn't even wait as he sheds the monkey skin, leaving behind only the boots as he steps put of them. Sniffing around the place.

[Drew Roscoe] Apart from the obvious scent of cooked casserole-- meat and potato and cheese and some kind of creamy soup to hold it all together-- and coffee, the place smelled clean. It hadn't been lived in for long, Drew's scent hadn't seeped into the carpet or walls just yet, though the furniture smelled strongly of her and a plethora of others-- she'd owned it for a while now. Drew dragged off the gray athletic sweatshirt she was wearing, pulling it over her head and discarding on the arm of the sofa. Beneath she was wearing a long-sleeved tee dyed maroon in color, not terribly clingy but not too shapeless either. It looked inexpensive and comfortable.

Drew was headed into the kitchen, initially intent on serving up a dish of that casserole and letting the Garou dig in, but she paused and looked back to see the fully grown male wolf snuffing about in her living room, sniffing at furniture, floorboards and wall molding alike. She watched him for a minute, folding her arms loose and comfortable in front of her stomach and leaning back against the kitchen island.

She was taking inventory of her kitchen, thinking back to when she'd kept a Hispo in her apartment and what he'd fed him while he healed. It had been a mix of ground beef, eggs, and some carrots diced up and thrown into the mix, with milk in the bowl as well. That was the closest thing to a wolf's chicken soup she could come up with. Only problem with that right now was she didn't have carrots or thawed meat. ...Well, he could just shift back up to eat what she'd made for the evening if he decided he got hungry.

Rather, she watched, brown eyes following while he inspected the place, and grinned a little while she talked aloud-- speaking to the wolf but not expecting an answer. "I must've been gone for a while. All these new faces..."

[Fire-Claws] The body of a strange southern man is left behind as the wolf form takes over. A grey fur base spotted with a mixture of red, brown and black across his spine and his face is all that she notices as it wanders about her home. Sniffing and cuffing at what he finds as he wanders. The smell of the kin lingered around the furniture, but was still lacking in many of the corners of the place. A fresh new den, maybe she was soon to be with pups and looked for a safe place.

He continued his search while she watched him go about his hunt. There were no strong scents of anything else about the place, no mate or anything to tell of a mate. Maybe her mate had died recently.

However when he finally finished his search, he moved into the kitchen, stretching and laying out along the kitchen floor while she spoke. Listening to her speak of once being here.

[Drew Roscoe] One of the Lupus's guesses was way off base. The other hit the nail directly on the head. Drew didn't know what he was thinking, though, so nothing was there to ruin her buzz. She just watched the wolf sniff, take his time at the couch where the most scents lingered, and then make his way into the kitchen to stretch out on the tile floor like he was a very large, very feral, very Rage-filled dog would.

Drew's smile grows wider, dashed with fondness for some indiscernable reason when he lays out like that. She was a dog person growing up, that might be why. Maybe having someone comfortable in her home, sharing the space if only for a moment was the reason. Maybe it was the Rage, making the place feel full and humming once more. She'd grown used to the energy and proximity to it with her Boys visiting frequently.

She bends at the knees and squats down nearby, athletically muscled thighs straining the denim jeans some when she settled, and holds her hand out, wrist offered as a point of thin skin, where blood was close to the surface, easy to catch a scent off of. He was silent, watching her. She continued to speak, to fill the silence, a skill she'd picked up waitressing and dragging others into conversation to convince them she was worth a fifteen or twenty dollar tip.

"Wolf-born, then, huh? I knew one like you before. His name was Wrath, and he died well, with his teeth around a Spiral's throat if I remember the story right."

[Fire-Claws] He laid his head on his paws when she leaned over to offer her wrist to him. However that may have been needed for monkeys acting out there more feral sides, but he didn't need that. He was wolf born, he lived in a whole world of smells. Not to mention in this form, a simple enact of his spiritual blessing and he could track her across the city that would make some no moons envious. But when the wrist sat right in from of his face, his tongue shot out to lick at the small bits of salt still lingering on her. Trying to cut out whatever it was that made the brown water in the cup before so... strange.

Then his head back to his paw, eyes kept up to watch her as she spoke about another lupus that made his home in the city. A strange story, but his tail slowly wiped across the floor as she spoke. Curious of his brethen that took up home in the scab.

[Drew Roscoe] A broad pink tongue swipes across Drew's wrist, and she smiles a satisfied little smile that her gesture was recognized in some way rather than ignored completely, and adjusted her position so that she was seated rather than squatting. Her legs crossed indian-style and her hands dipped together into her lap, spine curving so she was leaned forward over her own legs.

His tail swiped across the floor, her eyes cut back to it, then up to his face once more. Human stupidity had her fingers wanting to reach out and pet his fur, rub affectionately at his ears, pull his head into her lap and just relax with the comfortable weight of a large canine in her lap, against her stomach, and possibly even fall asleep there, leaned back against the counter.

She knew better, though, and she knew respect. She kept her hands in her lap, and continued to talk just because he showed interest and it was better than silence at this moment. She spoke on.

"There've been some great, great warriors that have come and gone around here. He was the only other Lupus I remember meeting, though. ...So many names and faces." There's an ironic chuckle. "Kora's got her work cut out for her, remembering all the stories. She's the only one left from before I moved away." There's a brief pause, and she leans forward a little further, posture inquisitive along with her face. "Is Lukas still around? He seemed solid, like he was going nowhere."

[Fire-Claws] There were a handful of Get kin back in the Smokey Mountain region around his Sept, some of them monkeys called rangers. They made sure to keep poachers out of their forest and led any nature hikers or activists away from their dens. They had their own homes, just like this within the woods. But nothing like this, then again the winter did not call up the northern winds so powerful there. Trees shaded many of the stronger winds, unlike the houses here.

And she was right now to treat him like a large domesticated house pet. He was far from that, a furnace of rage of a wealth of fighting experience made so much more of a difference. A whole pack of street dogs was nothing to him. Over time maybe he would show affection like he did with his packmates, but that was far from now. Monkeys were not to be trusted so easily. Quick to turn when things just don't go there way.

But for now he listened to what she knew. Probably very little, kin were not allowed around the caern here, as well as the fact that she was gone for some time. But when she spoke about the ahroun elder, his ears perked a little, yipping an agreement. That shadow lord seemed to be a fixture here.

[Drew Roscoe] Drew had met Kin from rougher lands before, when she'd visited the savage Sept split between Red Talons and Get of Fenris up in the wilds of Alaska. The Kinfolk had been something to be respected and something to instill worry both. She'd respected the Guarding Kin, the man who had sired the Skald that she'd loved and trusted so much. He was as constant as the wind, the blizzards, the mountains and the ocean. He seemed like he had been there forever and would continue to do so. The female Kin she'd met, though, left an unpleasant taste in her mouth. She'd listened to what the woman had to say, she'd helped in every way she could, but she didn't like much of what she heard. She'd prayed that she would never become so bitter and hateful.

The yip and prick of ears confirmed what Drew was hoping, and she smiled to get the answer. "Good. He's a good man. I think so, at least." There's a contented sigh, a period of quiet, and her hand moves from her lap to scrub at her face, and is soon joined by the other. The alcohol in her system had been meant to loosen the spirits and encourage laughter with Gina. She wasn't anticipating making a good impression on a new Fenrir. She'd try anyways.

"....Look. I don't want to degrade you by putting food in a bowl and setting it on the floor, but I want you to feel at home and welcome to what I have. So, ah, I've got the food in the oven. It'll keep warm for a while yet. There's beer in the fridge, you're welcome to that too." She leans forward again, this time to point to a hallway that occurred somewhere between living room and kitchen space. It was short and curved to the back of the house after a handful of feet. "The guest bedroom's set up right there, first door, if you wanna sleep in a bed. If you prefer not, that's fine too."

There's a pause, and she adjusts how she sits again, this time drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms about them, resting her chin on her knees. "...Regardless, I'm glad to have you. The house feels too empty these days."

[Fire-Claws] He moves ever so slightly to stretch out again, open his maw to offer up a canine yawn as she started to go on about food being in the oven. He had heard kin speak of it, something that made food warm, ruined the meat in his mind. But then again these monkeys didn't seem able to just enjoy the hunt and the warm flesh when it was freshly killed. They made it cold just to warm it up again, strange really.

When she motioned down the hallway he looked up once again. Beds were not needed, that made one soft and what would his brethen think of if they found not only a lupus getting soft, but a Get no less. He licked at her arm as it was wrapped about her legs before heading into the living room, sniffing at the ground here and there before finally finding someplace that was not drafty and was not too overwhelming of her. A place near the doorway from the hallway to the living room.

Not only that, but it would protect the kin should someone want to break in. Anyone would almost always have to get passed him, a difficult task indeed.

[Drew Roscoe] He yawned, glanced back toward the hallway when she pointed, then looked back to her when she concluded her speech. Again that tongue swept over her skin, this time at her arm, and she smiled a lazy, sleepy, happy smile and rocked forward to watch him move out of the kitchen, pace about until he found a nice middle ground to rest and sleep at. He'd keep her safe tonight, because she was Kin, even if he only met her tonight. It wouldn't be necessary, she was sure, but if it came down to it she would do the same for him. It wouldn't be the only time she's put buckshot into the skull of a monster while it was looming over a fallen comrade.

She watched him settle, stayed there on the kitchen floor for a moment, then with a groan she pushed herself up to her feet, wavering for a second and bracing herself with a hand on the kitchen counter, and walked toward the back of the house, rounding the corner out of sight. He'd hear her footsteps take her up a flight of stairs, hear her pad around on stocking feet above his head for a few minutes before bed springs groan and creek and she settles in for the evening to go to sleep as well.