Pop [Linus]

[Drew Roscoe] The house had been vacant for the weekend-- Friday night Drew had slammed through the home, packed some clothes rolled up into a backpack along with morning-night essentials, and made a poor attempt at sleep that was fitful at best, and had her leaving around five a.m. Saturday morning. Peoria, she'd told Kora and Erek and anyone else that might've overheard. The original intent of the trip out wasn't quite the focal point any longer, but she'd gone anyways. Spent the better part of the weekend with her father, a traitor estranged from the cause perhaps, but her dad nonetheless.

Today she'd returned, perhaps a bit reluctantly, having left mid-day, arrived only an hour and a half ago. Laundry was started, a one-person meal prepared with Erek out of the house, as he'd said he would be while she was gone. Something about respecting her space, she didn't understand it entirely but didn't push him to stay when he insisted either.

Smoke puffed out the chimney at the back of the modest little two-story house, forgettable in the backdrop of the neighborhood with faded blue paint and chipped white shutters. Her truck was recognizable in the driveway, the plot of land small, unfenced and utterly buried in snow. The curtains were drawn, but the light behind them glowed as proof further than the chimney smoke that somebody was home.

Linus got the address from Kora, it was only a dozen or so blocks away from the Church, easy enough to find but precisely as easy to forget. The house next door to hers was foreclosed upon, looked like it had been for some time. The neighborhood had the quiet about it that had nothing to do with seasons-- people stayed inside because it was safer. Between the drug-peddling gun-wielding boys calling themselves men and the glimpses of monsters in mens' skin, more frequent now than it had been before, folks were smart to keep their shutters closed and their doors locked.

[Linus] It would be one of those moments when she was in her Room. In the bathroom. Tucked away somewhere else in the apartment that wasn't the living room and the adjoining kitchen. A familiar sensation filled the air and the comfortable space of physics was distorted by the ballooning afront of disruption. Pressure built like an avalanche on the ears, quaking outward to imperceptibly rattle windows and bulge everything outward. The blood seemed to swell in veins and just before the pain began and discomfort rode the air-

Pop.

Such a subtle thing. Soft and barely audible. A feeling more than a sound. It rang in the living room, leading to the Kitchen and came with the scent of Frost and Ice and the vaguest of woodsmoke. Drew would come out into her living room area to find small slush marks where he'd been standing upon arrival. The steps would move into the kitchen and the glare from the Fridge would shine out into the living room followed closely by the tink and clink of various articles inside being pushed aside in search of something-

"If I wanted you dead, I would have popped where you were at the time before you got a chance to go for your gun or a knife or whatever it is you should be holding, right now." He offers it casually, seemingly immune to the potential for how hazardous popping into a kin's private space may well be. That, and the courtesy of a knock on the front door. Then again, Linus' ability to be honest was coupled more often than not, with his ability to be disregarding.

"Taking a Beer."

The godi is dressed in a thick black hoodie, that fits snugly around him. The hood itself is pulled back to reveal a stubble ridden head, while the beginnings of a beard are peeking through across his scruffy features. The tiredness around his eyes, as he turns from the fridge with a beer in hand, eying the label questioningly, is nothing exhausted as much as it is routine. Something he seems comfortable dealing with, the way you get used to dealing with a 5 hour stretch and a 19 hour haul after enough weeks of doing it.

"Sit down." He doesn't look up from the beer, popping drawers open and cabinet doors in search of a bottle opener.

[Drew Roscoe] Drew had, as a matter of fact, been up on the second story of her house, a floor that was less than half the size of the first, almost like a loft how it was entirely bedroom and attached bathroom. She'd been finishing folding up her laundry and tucking it away into her dresser drawers, hanging up dress shirts in the closet when a familiar pressure in her ears was registered, drawing tight and snapping back to normal with a pop! that felt like ripples in the air before it settled once more.

It was unusual and familiar enough all at once that she placed it within seconds, and went to investigate in less than a minute. Her steps were soft, but the house was quiet save for the snap-crackle of a subdued fire in the fireplace at the back of the house, in a narrow rectangle of space that was dining room and entrance to the stairwell also. She walked slowly, cautiously around the corner, one hand at the wall and the other behind her back. Linus's form in her kitchen was not immediately recognized, he'd hear the safety of her gun whisper from on to off.

He spoke up, and that's when recognition settled in. Pleasure and relief weren't words to be used here, but she did relax back some, flip the safety back on and make a small huffing sound as she sighed the tension out from her neck and shoulders as well as she could.

"Go ahead." When he says he's taking a beer. As he shuffles about for a bottle opener, she advises that it's: "The first drawer to the left of the sink," before moving to a stool at the kitchen island and sitting down, setting her gun on the counter in front of her in the place that a cup of coffee would normally be.

She was dressed to stay in for the evening, a pair of blue-and-purple plaid pajama pants that were flipped down once at the waistband, a simply cut black T-shirt, with her hair twisted into a knot that hovered behind and under her left ear. Face was washed of make-up, nails trimmed and free of polish. She didn't appear near so exhausted as he did, but rather full of life all things considered. She'd always had that way about her, though.

"Would you grab one for me too, please? I'm willing to bet I'll end up wanting it, whatever this may be about."

[Linus] A second beer is procured and set on the counter, slid toward her without much effort. He goes for the opener only after the beer has been set down, both of them, pulling the requisite drawer open and plucking out the tool with a soft grunt and a flick of the drawer closed again much to the rattling disquiet of the utensils within. Opposite sites of the counter now, standing just off to one side of the sink and he leans over the counter, rolling the sleeves of his hoodie up.

"Shit here ain't the same as when you were here last. I'd-" and he squints, forcing a smile that contains as much humour as a viper enjoying it's warning "-just like to get that out of the way before we continue incase you feel the need to remind me what it was like before. How things worked then."

His jaw works around in a slow circuit, the Godi's gaze hanging slightly. It travels her small frame briefly, before his tongue clucks and he dismisses her appearance with something close to shamelessness. A teenager's regard without the bashfulness to make it ego.

"That said, Kora seems to think I owe you something as far as a Debt goes. Something for the slight I paid you and your last mate." His brow doesn't furrow in confusion or frustration, nor does he seem entirely disbelieving of those facts. Words from Kora's lips were perhaps some of the only ones the Godi took with seriousness.

He pops the caps off both beers with slow and deliberate movements, tossing the opener into the sink nearby and plucking up the beverage with a quick sip to dispose of the rising foam coming to his.

"Last I checked though, she wasn't too fond of hearing your name." Another tongue cluck. "Was she?"

[Drew Roscoe] His prelude was answered with a vague, tuneless hum. She heard him, understood. Invited him to continue talking, all with that sound.

Drew nodded and murmured her thanks when he slid the beer across the counter to her, and upon opening it he took the bottle by its neck and lifted it to her lips, initiating the conversation on her end by taking three deep drinks before letting it rest on the counter once more. Her fingers stayed about the bottle's neck, ready to move it when she felt the thirst, and the other arm was propped on the countertop, elbow to forearm laid on it so she was leaned forward some, but not quite so much as Linus.

She listened, watched his eyes, face, and shoulders all carefully enough, but kept her eyes off his teeth when he tried out that humorless smile on her. Shifted her gaze to the front door, as though to make sure it was locked against intruders, when he had taken a moment to eye her build and dress before dismissing her just as easily. If she was offended, it didn't show.

Debts owed, and Jarls displeased to hear her name. The floor was given to her, and she treaded it lightly, though that oughtn't be confused with doing so nervously or suspiciously.

"No, no, I don't imagine she would be. Can't say we're on the friendliest terms at this moment." Which was quite the understatement. Drew had driven home aggressively Friday night, slammed doors and drawers and snarled for Rotagar to just let her have it out on her own. He didn't come past the door to the flight of stairs toward the second level, never did. It was a part of the terms of agreement here, he could stay and eat and use whatever he needed but he kept to the first floor and that was that.

Another drink from the beer bottle, and she licks the remnants of the brew off her lips before setting her eyes on Linus's, dark meshing to dark. "But that doesn't mean I'm gonna take what went on between us and lay it on you."

[Drew Roscoe] (( she took the bottle ** ))

[Linus] "Ain't your fuckin' place to lay anything in my direction..." A brief flicker of something unpleasant. "Jarl's business is the Jarl's business. Plain and simple. My debt ain't got nothing to do with your stupid and her anger, 'cept..."

And he sups at his beer again, lifting off the counter and leaning into a full body stretch and yawn that seems more of an interruption to his dialogue then anything naturally part of it or an excuse to dismiss the moment's tension/lecture. He rolls his head to one side then the other, eyes flickering closed and exhaling slowly before coming back to the conversation with somewhat fresh eyes and attention.

"...What I gotta deal with 'cause you go thinkin' it's ok to put your pussy on parade inviting bodies back here to stay. Bodies who ain't packed. Puts a risk in the air." Plucks up his beer again, a vague grimace barely reaching one corner of his lips before it's shut down by a flare of teeth.

"Reason the Jarl's home is open to the Tribe."

[Drew Roscoe] Typically, the Kin had a light in her eyes and a warmth on her face that made it all too easy to want to like her, to get along with and want to hang around for more beers and some good, lackadaisical conversation. The kind of stuff that let you relax from the War and all its stresses, if only for a minute, an hour, a night.

Linus snaps at her, stretches and forces a yawn, then snatches up his bottle and explains to her that the Church is open and that's why her doors shouldn't be. ...amongst other things.

That light and warmth saps itself right out of Drew's visage, and she's staring him down blandly across the counter.

"...That all?" Her voice was precisely as humorless and unwelcome as her face had become.

[Linus] "...No it ain't."

The Godi, perhaps of all the auspices, is well trained to deal with the emotional shutter. The close down of systems and finality of the discourteous. Not because of training but because of Duty. A whole other world was their responsibility and it made wanting, needing, caring, kindness and compassion irrelevant. It made them...secondary, if not tertiary to existence. Linus would be the first to claim he's a damn good Godi and as a Cliath, that could not be any less than truth when it comes to his Duty.

"My sister, my Alpha and our Jarl is doing everything she can to make this war work in this fucked up city" Contempt, true contempt for that word city "and putting up with all the specifics and little details is something she shouldn't really have to be doing, if this were a normal place. If we had normal rules and laws. She's doing it while pregnant with my Nephew. Mated. Jarl. Alpha. Rank. Pride and important and honest and still...still making the attempt to see to it you're free to Mourn."

He leans on the counter, gaze narrowed.

"Yeah I know about this Joe fellow. I also know she respected who he was. Once her alpha. So whatever laws she hands down for this tribe and those that apply to you are done to honour his memory and protect whatever worth he saw in you. Plain and simple. That's more than most Fenrir would be willing to do. More than most are capable of admitting to."

He flicks hands around the house, nodding slowly like he had caught onto a dirty little secret.

"...That worth extends to you hanging yourself out there infront of noses too stupid or blind to possibly respect that and when they come looking to handle or smile or grin and chirp. When they come waltzing into the packhouse yellin' stupid and hot, with you hanging on their fuckin' arm like something to impress? Or go looking for a pillow and a place to crash that you're kind enough to give up some of your safety to allow? Want to know what that says about your worth?"

He flicks the cap for his beer into the sink, sneering across the counter.

"S'fuckin' beneath you. Beneath the blood in your fuckin' veins. Beneath a Fenrir. We fuckin; earn the right and privilege of being with our kin, mate or fuckin' otherwise. You go inviting comfort like it's free to whoever and you might as well tell 'em they're welcome to it." Another flickering glance, gaze narrowed.

[Drew Roscoe] Drew doesn't interrupt the Godi as he talks about Kora and all the work she's doing, about the memory of Joe and how she's working to preserve and honor it (and there's some effort here not to snort and growl, she apparently disagreed but wasn't going to sling that in Linus's face as it wasn't the point and never would be. Kin opinions on Garou politics were worth dirt). She listens with a faint scowl creasing the soft, rounded features of her face while he insists that what charity she's giving Tribemates was disrespectful and below herself, that they had to fight for what she was giving.

"So, then, you want me to kick Erek out. Fine, if there's space and food for him at the Church and Kora'll have him."

She half-glanced after the bottlecap as it bounced into the sink, then looked back to Linus, tapping a thumbnail against the side of her bottle as she took the kind of deep breath that lifts shoulders up high, then slouches them down on the exhale.

"I don't think you're worried about me so much as the stress you think I'm causing your sister-- and correct me if I'm wrong here. Our fight, it stressed her? What I'm doing, offering help to Family that wants it, that stresses her out? She's got too much on her plate to have me stirring up a fuss and making Remy hot-blooded? 'Cause he's that way no matter who's around him, not the most pleasant guy out on the street."

She pauses to take another drink, and lets the bottle down gentle and quiet onto the counter, studying the label. "This isn't about her really wanting me to take care of that Kin for her, is it?"

[Linus] "You deaf? Jarl's business is Jarl's business. You aren't talking to her right now." There's an edge there now, a repetition that's a lot more unpleasant the second time around as the Godi leans both hands on the counter top. His jaw is set and his eyes are hooded around those dark circles he keeps like badges and medals.

"I'm talking to you. You want to know what Kora wants you ask her about it. She tells you or she tells you to Fuck off. That's half the point. The other half is that you've actually got a pretty good chance of her doing one or the other. Most others? Probably just say 'Deal with it'." A pause. "Like I am."

He looks at his beer but doesn't pick it up again. "Remy" A displeased ripple there. Something disgusted. "You watch the way he acted any? Closely?" He glances up at her, sidelong like he might be studying. "Step in front of me like he owned you? Keep you and I from talking like I was allowed? Kept my eyes on him? That strike you as a free for all asshole? Or maybe you made a statement wandering into pack turf with someone on your arm."

A grim line on his face. Then a snort, another wave of the hand.

"You invited the boy here. Your issue now. Just like it's mine when his packless ass fucks up and goes bringin' attention here that you and I and Kora especially, doesn't want. You kick him out, it's on you. Just like inviting him in was on you. Didn't consult any of us before you did it and didn't think there might be a reason ain't any of our kin doing like this. He says to fuck off he's staying anyway, then what? You gonna come find Kora to sort him out? When it could have been avoided? Says he loves you and wants to say?" His head bobs to the side once. "Says he'll leave and comes to Kora complaining?" He stabs the counter with a finger.

"Tell me you're hearing what I'm saying and it's getting through and you're not just thinking about how much of an asshole I am 'cause I'd hate to think I'm wasting my time making sense to someone who'd rather play the wounded widow than be a fucking Fenrir."

[Linus] (Loves you and wants to stay^)

[Drew Roscoe] A curiosity that had come and gone from Drew's mind, depending on how far and how long she allowed it to wander, was precisely how much Wolf a kin had in them. They obviously had to had some, they were related to Garou by blood. There had to be something there because she almost never got sick, because bruises might flower on her skin but they would fade faster than they would off any average girl, because she could withstand Rage like a cement home as opposed to a haystack.

It showed, sometimes, if she watched Kinfolk in action very carefully. How they were more prone to flashing their teeth when displeased, how they would attempt to growl their aggravation without realizing what sound they were mimicking, how their eyes became so sharp and alert after so much exposure to the Monsters and the Dark... but rarely ever afraid and threatened like prey, much more attentive, cautious, and thoughtful than that.

She wasn't thinking too hard on this topic now, though, otherwise she would've stopped her upper lip from lifting away from her teeth, which were clamped together tightly. She's not glaring him in the eye, though, not constantly at least. She didn't avoid his gaze like she thought he would strike her, beat or kill or maim her. She'd hold it for a moment, look elsewhere, then come back. Organic without being too comfortable, too trusting.

"Wasn't meant to be that way. I know what you're sayin', and I see it too. I've already had a talk with Remy, face-to-face and honest as hell. We know where we stand, and it's not at that place that night. Alright?"

A break for a swig of beer, and she sets it down and this time moves her hand from the bottle to pinch fingertips into the bridge of her nose. "Erek... He'll go when I tell him. I have faith of that. What I don't have faith of is that it'll end up bein' on the best of terms. He's getting territorial, and that was my mistake. I'm seeing it now, and I'm working to end it. I don't wanna kick him out onto the street, and I don't much want to send him out to that Brotherhood either-- place is genocide just waiting to happen."

She shakes her head, moves her fingers from between her eyes to sweep some loose section of hair out of her face and back behind her ear.

"He ain't stayin', not permanently, because despite whatever shit might look like or you all might believe and mutter about? I ain't ready for movin' on."

[Linus] "It ain't about whether you're Fucking Ready or not!"

He slams a hand into the counter, hard enough to bruise and seemingly indifferent to the flash of pain. It serves to crash Rage just a waft higher but Drew's been mate to a Modi before. Much like Imogen, that leaves behind scars and scald marks no matter the hand that holds them. It leaves marks and it leaves layers through which one has to push through. That is if they're trying.

The Godi isn't looking for a reaction. He's actively angry.

"You don't get to decide that. Hear? If some young fuck up wants to come along and throw down with Kora to pull your ass through the ringer, then he's going to. If he wins, he's yours. To do with. As he pleases. No matter what. That ain't to say you're gonna be some victim for the remainder of your life? But it happens. Has happened..." There's a flash of something real on his face just then. Not personal, but a testament to the truth of that. Rage was a powerful thing, not meant for therapy couches or prescriptions.

"Which is why you don't get to make these choices on your own. Because you fucked up. Twice. Needed to have a talk with Remy and now you gotta have a hard talk with Erek." The disgust creeps through again. "Bunch of fuckin' cocks looking to think about nothing but the Pink in front of 'em and despite what you may think or say? You don't get to decide whether they want to or not."

The Godi leans back and paces in the kitchen. A hand is at his brow, massaging at some hidden exertion. Some quiet thing lost in the back of the mind. It seems... detached from this moment. Not part of Drew. Not part of what they're talking about.

"The only defense. The only real defense you get in this situation is Kora. She tells you to do something it isn't because she's important. It isn't for your own good. It isn't because she cares. It's because she's all of those things and paying you the respect she thinks you deserve but quite Frankly-" Another flash of anger, turning toward her again. "I'm getting tempted to tell her not to bother. Some fuckin' idiot comes along lookin' to claim you and that's one less Kin underfoot, ain't it?"

A sneer.

"Yeah..." Nodding, slowly, slower. Stopped.

"...But that's why i'm not Jarl and she is. That's why you're going to pay her the respect and courtesy she does in your favour and that's why you're going to be a Great fucking Fenrir from here on in." Fenrir. Not Fenrir Kin. Fenrir.

"Because you're bringing weakness into this tribe with your lack of forethought. Letting your mourning or grieving or whatever the fuck else you're doing get in the way. Kora can slap Remy around. Beat Erek into the ground. Teach them the necessary lessons. She can handle them. You can't." A pause, leaning onto the counter again with both hands, making sure they're eye to eye before-

"You. Can't. Period."

[Drew Roscoe] The girl doesn't flinch when that hand slaps open-palmed down onto the counter, nor when the Rage flints and his anger blows at her like a hot wind. She used to rile up at the drop of a hat, once upon a time ago (two years, but it feels like so much longer than that), spit venom and hellfire right back at the Garou that threw the law at her and made her understand and play by the rules. That had tempered down with time, she chose her battles more wisely. Became a Good Kin for her Boys, a better one when she became a mate.

But, apparently, not good enough. According to Kora, at least, because Drew didn't come home with a seed of life. She came home with cardboard boxes and nothing else. She'd failed as a Mate, failed as a Kin, and was now left sweeping up the mess and trying to re-establish her place once again.

Her eyes bore into his now, no longer skipping to avoid contact in intermittent sessions to diffuse whatever challenge might be appearing there. He's pacing back and forth across the counter from her, lecturing her about how the World worked and how Kin were helpless to it. Telling her that she's going to be a Great Fenrir, and it's right around there that a weak, human snarl bubbles up from her throat. He slaps his hands on the counter and leans forward over it, eye to eye with her. Her posture mimics his, though she's not slamming hands down and trying to look imposing. Her hands find the counter, feet find the stool's bottom rung so she's standing up rather than sitting on the round wooden seat. Shoulders rolled back, anger and insult written all over her face.

It's a struggle to keep her voice low, but she manages. Somehow. "So you come here to tell me, what, exactly? To move on? To kick Erek to the curb and close my doors? To take that... what's her name, that Child of Gaia Kin in and be her goddamn crutch? To respect Kora when all she seems to have on her mind is how much of a slut I am and how guilty I should feel for not getting pregnant at the drop of a hat like every other woman seems able to do?

"Is it to tell me how weak I am? Remind me that I get no say in shit, and that.... I don't even fucking know, I lost you around the part where you want me to grovel for forgiveness and buck up and be a 'Great Fucking Fenrir' like this goes hand in hand.

"Why the hell are you here?"

[Linus] "You had a Fuckin' Mate, didn't you?!" He leans lower now, so that he's looking up with rude-mocking-surprise at her young features. His eyes are wide, made all the more pronounced for the circles there. His lips are curling and he seems not to register much of whatever challenge or debate this could possibly be. As far as Linus is concerned and for all intents and purposes, He is right. She is wrong. End of story.

"When you mate? You have kids! That fuckin' simple! If you don't want to have kids! Don't Get a Fucking Mate!" He blasts back at her, top of his lungs and heedless of the neighbours. Let the little mortals whine and whimper at her door later to keep it down. He'd be gone by then.

"You are weak. For allowing a word like 'Grovel' to be in the same sentence as Fenrir. For not being grateful for the chances you're being given. For making this Duty-" Not job "-harder then it needs to be and for not understanding that, despite what you have to say, we're going to fucking do it anyway."

He sniffs loudly and wipes a hand under his nose in the process. She asks why he's hear and he flicks a dismissive hand around at her apartment.

"I owe a debt and I'm here to tell you that's done. Your building's clean. Made sure of it. Last two nights I've put up Watchers on the surrounding turf to keep and eye on your spiritual side. Place is bound to attract attention so at least we'll know you're safe and won't have any unexpected visitors without some prior knowledge. Any further precautions and this place would be too noticeable." Another sniff and the Godi plucks up his beer. He moves to take a sip and looks down at the bottle again. Then turns it down into the sink to drain out.

"One way or another, I'll be watching this place and you. I'll also be paying a visit once a month to check and see that things are alright and you're not in any trouble." If it sounds like he's displeased with it, that would be a lie. Duty, after-all. What seems more relevant is the double side to this particular Debt. Keeping an eye on her. For her own Good, as well as theirs. He begins to roll his sleeves down, the sink gurgling with the last of the beer flowing down the drain.

"You can expect me again in a month. Hopefully by that time you'll have figured this shit out enough to go talk to Kora again and ask for her forgiveness and help." He pulls the hood up, shoulders rolling and head and eyes beginning to that long yard stare.

[Drew] [[ Lost Post: She protests the hypocrisy of him and Kora being so mad that she didn't come home with an heir to Joe's bloodline, yet continue to try and cut off her ties with Garou men. ]]

[Linus] "Cause they ain't the Right Garou." The Godi says, turning to look at her with something akin to the deadpan she'd first given him earlier in the night. A flicker of something in his cheek, dancing and vanished.

"I'll be using the Umbra. I ain't nearly quick and ninja enough to avoid being followed if push comes to shove. Easier for me to enter in one direction or another." He snaps his fingers and points at her from his place just outside the kitchen door.

"I expect every time I come through here for there to be a Beer in the fridge waiting, your bed made and smelling like fuckin' summer time and a gun in your hand so I know you care." And then he grins. The sort of thing that says 'No, I ain't your Daddy. I'm your keeper.'

The air pressurizes. He vanishes.
Pop goes reality.