"Not in the mood, Owen."

[renferret]

 Owen stops by to give Salem a pep talk. It's not very effective.

Tenement Building - Ground Floor(#2451RJ)

 

The ground floor of the apartment building is taken up mainly by the lobby, an open space with the front doors at one end and the elevator and the door leading to the stairwell at the other. The floor is covered in black and white tile in a checkerboard pattern, and the walls have been painted a neutral grey shade. A couch, two squashy armchairs, and two wooden chairs have been set up in a rough semi-circle around a square wooden coffee table, facing toward the front doors and positioned so as not to interfere with any traffic moving between there and the stairs. The furniture does not seem to be very old, but it has been well-worn in its short lifetime. A few potted plants have been set in corners, to give the old lobby a more welcoming atmosphere. 

 

To the right of the main doors are mailboxes for building residents, and off to the left is the doorway into a cramped rental office (see +view), and other doors that lead to the building's large laundry room.

 

Obvious exits:

Stairs Salem's Apartment Out

 

Salem has arrived.

 

Owen has arrived.

 

Tonight finds Mouse in the lobby, sitting in her power-chair rather than one of the armchairs, with the attached laptop table folded up so that she can use it. And she seems to be doing just that, at times typing furiously, at others merely staring intently at the screen.

 

Salem emerges from the basement looking a little less like death warmed over than he did this morning, but still stubbly and rough, wearing the same shabby black clothing he was wearing last night and reeking of cigarette smoke. He starts for the door out, sees Mouse, and stops, hesitating.

 

There's an intensity to Mouse's expression--to her whole body-language, really--that speaks to, rather than actually shows, something somewhat like a smile. Less friendly. More predatory. It's only when her focus shifts a little off her work that this seems to fade, and her voice, at the very least, sounds playful. "So...chainsaw robots, huh?"

 

Salem winces, shifting his face away. The maimed hand comes up, scrubs idly over the buzzed white hair. "I really..." The hand drops. "I don't know."

 

It's about now that a loud knocking comes from the door, the security cameras showing the Get Jarl once again standing there and apparently blissfully unaware that there's a buzzer.

 

"Drunk," Mouse fills in. "You were really, /really/ drunk. You sang a little too." She pulls the camera feed to the front of the many, many windows she has open. "Owen again." She presses three keys, and the door lock clicks open.

 

Salem groans something in Serbian, pushing his sunglasses up to rub at bloodshot eyes. Then, looking resigned, he limps over to the couch and drops into it.

 

Owen stands before the door for a moment more, apparently puzzled that it wasn't opened by someone but definitely hearing it click. He actually tests the door before opening it and peering inside to see if anyone is there. Being as there definitely is, he steps inside, shuts the door behind him with little fanfare, and stands right at the entrance. He dips his head stiffly once towards Mouse before fixing Salem a hard look, taking time before nodding towards him as well.

 

"Owen," Mouse says, with a polite, if shallow tone. She only looks up after, her attention clearly split between her laptop and the room's newest occupant.

 

Salem flips up a hand in a gesture that's not really a wave, not really a salute (even a half-assed one) but in general looks like some kind of greeting.

 

"You know," Owen begins, "a little bird came by today and told me something that, of all the things I have seen in this world, and of all things that I have done, actually shocked me speechless. Speechless! Can you imagine that!" He clasps his hands behind him as he stands a little bit taller. "Can you imagine waht that was?"

 

Mouse's attention shifts further from her laptop now, and she eyes Owen sidelong, with one eyebrow a little higher than the other.

 

Pack> Mouse irritable bemusement.

 

Salem squeezes his eyes closed behind the sunglasses; his jaw clenches, tight. Though still slouched on the couch and not looking like he's moving from it, his manner's no longer quite so boneless and relaced. He takes a few breaths. One. Two. Three. Then, in a tone of enforced calm (though his voice is rough around the edges), he says, "Not in the mood, Owen."

 

Riley's music can be heard well ahead of her quiet footsteps. One of the perks to being Garou is, of course, that any damage one inflicts to their ears will never be especially permanent. As such, the ragabash seems to be taking full advantage, and the as the door from the stairs opens, the tinny audio echoing out of her earbuds is vaguely audible to anyone that happens to be listening carefully. ('...dawo sarangseureowo Geurae neo - HEY. Geurae baro neo HEY...') At the sight of the trio of higher-ranked Garou, the young woman silences Gangnam Style with a quick press to the iPod in her pocket, and liberates her ear buds with a soft shake of her head. She peers particularly toward Salem and flicks her attention over to Owen. She clears her throat, "Evening, folks."

 

"You never are, Salem. You are fucking stronger than this." The arrival of Riley pulls a little of the steam out of Owen as he looks her way briefly. "I won't see you retreat like this."

 

Mouse quietly clears her throat. She doesn't raise her voice, but it has a way of cutting through the air anyway. "Just as a gentle reminder, the Glass Walker elder is right here. We're all mourning, Owen."

 

Salem fishes out his cigarettes and lighter and lights up. It's a handrolled one, tucked away in the pack of cheap shit, and the tobacco smell is definitely of a higher quality than his usual brand these days.

 

Having eschewn her dedicated clothing for more practical jogging-wear, Riley's caught flat-footed for the atmosphere that she's walked herself into. As it turns out, it's difficult to look especially disapproving or surly while wearing lycra. It doesn't mean she doesn't make a go of it, albeit awkwardly.

 

Owen nods his head a couple times in quick succession. His voice evens out a little as he addresses the theurge. "I know, Mouse. I have had to do my share of that, too. We also have a fight coming in a manner of days and I would have everyone have their heads squarely on their shoulders if they're to share a battlefield with me."

 

"That's a good idea," Mouse agrees. "You should probably see to Viv. Make sure she's feeling alright. Feeling centered enough for another big fight."

 

Salem concentrates on his cigarette -- pulling the smoke into his lungs, exhaling slowly, watching it drift upwards and disperse. He seems perfectly willing to let Mouse deal with the Jarl.

 

Riley's eyes momentarily turn skyward, and for a few moments, the ragabash looks almost pained. She levels her gaze back down on Owen and opens her mouth, only to have Mouse speak up before she's able to say whatever she was about to. The fostern's mouth tucks closed, and she gives a momentary sigh of discontent before bobbing her head in agreement with her elder. It doesn't stop her from speaking entirely, though. "The Glass Walkers will be ready to do their part."

 

It certainly got chillier in here, especially around the Get. Something Mouse apparently said wasn't taken very well. He turns without another word and leaves, probably the most diplomatic thing that he can do right now.

 

Mouse lets him go. She says nothing, and not one thing about her expression changes. Once the door closes behind Owen, she glances toward the camera feeds.

 

Salem mutters something. It sounds like 'thanks'.

 

Once Owen has removed himself from the lobby, Riley slowly folds her arms, and sends a searching glance to Mouse and Salem. "The fuck was that supposed to be?"

 

The cameras would show Owen simply leaving without a look back. About 20 seconds later, the sounds of a car alarm can be heard outside that last all of three seconds, then silence reigns once more.

 

It doesn't reign long. "Jesus /fucking/ Christ," Mouse says, with a volume, and certainly an intensity, somewhat higher than she had before. She glances over toward Riley. "How fucking hard was that for you to reign in? Because I think I swallowed an entire dictionary's worth of words, most of them generally unprintable."

 

Salem shakes his head and gets up, pulling up his hood.

 

"Oh, I think it's safe to assume that if the pair of you weren't here when he said that, we'd have a diplomatic incident on our hands." Riley reaches a hand up and ruffles at her hair, shaking her head. When Salem moves to stand, she grunts, "Fuck him, man. That was out of line."

 

"Jack," Mouse says, sitting up a little straighter. "Stay here tonight." She doesn't quite phrase it as an order, but it doesn't quite match a simple request. "He probably left a brain sizzled stench all up the damn road." She adds, "The dipshit was just trying to pump his self importance. I was wrong. I said yesterday it'd be /after/ the actual battle."

 

Salem remains on his feet a moment or two more, hesitating. Eventually he nods, unzips the hoodie, and limps back for the basement, trailing smoke.

 

Riley has already said her piece - she's not quite on familiar enough terms with Salem to try to offer any more words. She does what she can with silence, tucking her hands into the pockets of her hoodie.

 

Mouse nods in return, and for the most part, her attention returns to her laptop. She lets Salem go without any further words, and waits a minute or so beyond that. "How're you holding up, Riley?"

 

There seems to be a brief internal debate from Riley on whether or not to put her earbuds back in when Salem takes his leave, but Mouse reengaging her in conversation seems to end that particular struggle. The ragabash quietly takes a seat on the couch, and gives a sullen little shrug of her shoulders. "...I'm alright. Holding up." She quietly scrubs at the back of her head. "...I've had enough people die on me that... it's getting a little bit easier, each time. Mostly? I feel awful for Jack, and there's not fuck-all I can say to him."

 

"Generally," Mouse says, with another glance toward the basement door, "Saying things to Jack doesn't impact much. I think he likes to work things out on his own, in a bottle." She looks back. "But closing ranks around him is something we can all do. He's /our/ philodox. People like Owen can fuck right off. And you did that perfectly right."

 

Riley gives a stale little laugh, "Yeah, well, what could I even say, anyway? I mean... what? 'Sorry, your wolf murdered a tribesmate under your protection?'" The ragabash fiddles with one of the cords of her hoodie. "There's nothing /to/ say, and ... fuck, it's just uncomfortable." She swallows, "And sad." She glances up with a soft little snort as Owen's name crops up, and she shakes her head, "That asshole. I was /this/ close to droppin' one on him that'd land him in the St. Claire Burn Ward."

 

Mouse nods a few times. "Nothing to say, everything to do. I'm giving him some time. A few days at least. At least he wasn't there when Ky decided to make all this shit about him somehow. /Christ/." She reaches up, rubbing at her forehead with the heel of her palm.

 

That prompts a slow blink, and Riley turns a sideward glance in Mouse's direction. "...What, now?"

 

Mouse inhales, and explains, slowly, "Kavi called me, right? When he heard about Flint? He told me Jack was hurt, but not at the Tenement. I said I'd find him, and Kavi said to find both of them. I was with Nick; he offered me a ride, so I figured Edgewood was the best place to start. We pulled up, and there was already a gathering. Elliot, Ky, Lex, Charlene. Val, too. When I get out of the car, I tell them I'm there for Flint, and to find Jack. Elliot says he's sorry about our loss, but then Ky suddenly starts shouting about how I can't have Flint, and how I'm just there to take his body because I never approved of his choice in packmates and I fucking hate Shadow Lords. I look him in the eyes, and the little shit tries to stare me down. /Then/ Lex frenzied, and Nick's still /there/ of course."

 

Riley's expression seems to run the gamut very quickly. For the first bit of Mouse's exposition, she simply looks expectant. She knows the part of the story that has her looking for Flint and Salem with Nick. Her initial reaction to the news about Ky is a soft sigh, and what looks to be an understanding nod - which vanishes outright when Mouse continues to talk. Her understanding melts at the sentence about Shadow Lords. Her neutral look turns into a frown at the mention of a staredown. By the end, she's gritting her teeth. "Are they a /pack/ of imbeciles? Well, that makes my job a fair sight easier."

 

"They're trying very hard," Mouse says, through gritted teeth. "He was hurting, I get that. But /Christ/." She reaches over to shut her laptop, but pauses with her fingers resting on the screen. "What job?"

 

"Look, I /get/ making an ass out of yourself when you're sick with grief," She does, and Mouse doesn't need any explanation on that front, "But trying to stare you down? Winding up his packmate into another fucking frenzy while kin are present?" She bristles, "...I pegged him as smarter than that. More mature than that." She snorts and mutters, "...He asked me to consider challenge terms for him. I told him this ain't the time for it, that I'd answer him when the Caern was ours again. Guess I know my answer."

 

Mouse makes a noise that's half snort, half choke. "You're joking." A beat. "Maybe tell him to try again when he actually learns how to follow orders, or how not to argue with and antagonize people three times his rank. Maybe when it's been long enough we've started to forget the little issue with becoming addicted to vampire blood and attacking the Sept alpha." She closes the laptop. "I should head upstairs. Catch you tomorrow?"

 

That laundry list of new information about Kyler prompts a blank stare from Riley. She clearly doesn't even know how to respond at first, then finally mutters under her breath, "Fuck, when'd I get so out of touch with the gossip train?" She looks firmly back to Mouse, "Yeah, I'd better head out anyway." She rises, and gestures toward the door, cracking a small smile, "Oh, and --- Just jogging. Think I've more than filled my quota of inadvisable solo missions."

 

Mouse gives Riley a salute at that, then turns the power chair toward the elevator, and begins trundling that way.