"If she can fall... any of us can. Coffee, for the love of Gaia."

Safehouse: Common Area(#2947RAJ)
The foyer of this house is set off from the living room with its octagonal bump-out by a four foot high halfwall. Stairs lead up from the foyer, turning and disappearing to the right, and a wooden door with a keycard lock claims the wall opposite the living room. The rest of the main floor is taken up by a small bathroom across the hallway from a dining room which is separated from the kitchen at the back of the house by another half-wall. The decor is decidedly sparse - white walls, beige carpeting in the living and dining rooms and down the hall, unremarkable vinyl in the foyer and kitchen.
A used couch and a pair of recliners are grouped around a coffee table in the living room, with a foursome of wooden chairs claiming the bump out for quieter conversation. The dining room boasts a white laminate table with four aluminum and vinyl-upholstered chairs - too new to be 'vintage', too old to be trendy. The appliances and cupboards in the kitchen are new - or at least refurbished to look like it - and a door leads out to the backyard from there.
Up the stairs are a number of empty rooms where anyone affiliated with the Sept can crash and an office for private meetings. The Glass Walkers have their own area accessible via a locked door off the foyer. The main doors themselves lead back out to the front porch of the house.

Kevin is sitting cheerfully with his feet up on the couch, in front of a wide-screen TV on the common side of the safehouse. The beauty of cable is that with all those channels you can find most anything you like -- Kevin has even managed to find one that's broadcasting the soccer World Cup live, and he's glued to the Portugal-Angola match.

Dillen steps up to the door of the Walker safehouse and knocks upon it. He's got a limp to him and he waits for someone to come answer.

Kevin sighs, swings his legs to the ground, and goes to open the door. "Dillen!" he greets the Get as he finds his former pack alpha in the porch. "C'min, man. How's it going?"

Dillen scratches a little bit at the bank of his neck and looks at Kevin. "Um. Was checking in to see if the cubs were okay and to find Grey..." He's somber and doesn't look like he's having a good day. In one hand, he holds with white knuckles a satchel. A satchel that belonged to one garou named Clemency.

"Ruth's great," Kevin says blithely. "She's cooking like some kind of cookery machine. Grey doesn't live here nowadays..." He peers at the bag Dillen holds. "Where've I seen that before?"

Dillen holds the bag up slightly. "Belonged to Clemency. She asked me to give it to Grey if she died." He pauses in his words and lowers the bag. "Tried to find Kristin to get her here." Yeah. Change of subject. "She ever make it?"

Kevin shakes his head. "Ruth's the only guest we have right now," he says morosely. "So Clemency, uh, is dead?"

"Yeah. Spirals killed her. Don't know. Wasn't there. Was put on guard duty." Dillen grips on the bag tightens. "Where is Grey nowadays?"

"He lives downtown," Kevin says grimly. "In a vile grimy little apartment. Are you telling me," he goes on, rising to a crescendo as though this is far more important that address queries, "that there are Black Spirals in town?"

Dillen looks to the fact that he has just been standing in the doorway and then steps inside the safehouse. He moves across the way, limping some and finds his way to a chair. "ON the bawn. Dead now. And Clemency with them."

Kevin shuts the door behind Dillen with an ominous click before striding to the television and turning Angola versus Portugal firmly off. "That isn't good," he says in the same grim voice.

There's a shuffling on the stairs, suddenly more audible with silence left behind when the television is switched off. Ruth appears at the bottom, book in hand, blinking sleepily at the occupants of the room. "What isn't good? Or is it something cubs shouldn't know," she asks, resigned rather than sarcastic.

Dillen looks towards the cub, "Clemency-yuf, of the Silver Fang is dead. She died last night in an attack on the Spirals. It's why you were sent away from the farmhouse."

"They came to the farmhouse?" Kevin exclaims. "Why the blue blazes did we not hear about this? The Silver Fangs," he adds in an aside to Ruth, "are an old and very noble tribe of garou, though most of them are a bit cracked from inbreeding..."

Dillen shakes his head, "No. We sent some of the cubs away just in case." His fingers tighten on the bag again.

"Clemency-rhya?" Ruth takes a couple of steps away from the stairs, towards the others, and stops again. It takes her a few moments to find her voice again. "Fire-Burns-rhya?" She frowns, and her lips move silently for a moment. Abruptly she turns towards the kitchen. "I'm going to put the kettle on, anyone want a drink?" she asks, moving before anyone answers her.

"That's her," Kevin says. "Hell. I didn't know her hardly at all, but I fought alongside her enough to know she was damn good. If she can fall... any of us can," he says morosely, his arms moving into a self-hugging position. "Coffee, for the love of Gaia," he calls after Ruth.

Dillen nods his head, "If there is a beer... Sure." He lifts the bag and looks at it, shaking his head.

"White or black, Kevin? Sugar?" Ruth calls back, her voice sounding croaky.

"White, no sugar," Kevin shouts through, "and get Dillen a beer. Michelob," he adds, with a glance to Dillen.

"Michelob?" Dillen looks to Kevin as if he is nuts. "At least I hope it's dark."

The growl of a Torino motor announces Grey's arrival. When the man himself enters the house, letting himself in with his copy of the key, he looks a trifle haggard, as if he hadn't slept, and his clothes are the same as they were yesterday when he went out to the Bawn to help guard the caern.

The sounds of fridge-raiding, cupboard-exploring and kettle-filling filter back from the kitchen. Ruth doesn't seem to be in any hurry to return to the seating area while the kettle boils.

"The Mexican beer is Scratch's," Kevin explains, "and even though I hardly ever see him here, it'd take a braver garou than me to drink that guy's stash." Before he can go into any more details regarding the veteran ahroun and his taste in beer, the door opens to admit Grey himself. "Oh, hey, Thomas," Kevin says with amomentary flash of brightness before his face returns to morose gloom, "you sure have good timing today."

"Bring one of those!" Dillen yells to the kitchen. The door that opens causes Dillen to look towards the man. "Grey." He says quietly. "I have something for you. Timing is maybe not so good..."

Grey looks at the pair of them somberly, then pushes the door shut behind him and stalks over to join them in the sitting area. Brusquely, he asks, "Which one of us died?"

There's a sound from the kitchen than might be a hiccough, followed by a loud nose-blow. Ruth fails to appear with any beer.

"Clemency," Kevin is the first to blurt out. "You know, Silver Fang elder, your --" And the penny drops belatedly for the ragabash. "...your packmate," he concludes in a horror-stricken voice.

Dillen licks at his lips and holds the bag up, "Clemency-yuf asked me to give this to you if she died." His face is stony as he says it. "The spirals killed her last night."

Grey takes the bag rather automatically, his expression unchanging, then sits down, slow and heavy, into a chair and sets the bag down between his feet. "Tell me." This is directed at Dillen, the Galliard.

With a final sniff and a surrepticious swipe at her eyes as she reaches the doorway, Ruth emerges from the kitchen, carefully carrying an armful of beers towards the other Garou. "Uh... I didn't know if Kevin meant the Michelob or the other one..." She gulps as her voice goes squeaky. "So I brought two of each." She doesn't actually hold them out; probably a good idea, as they look in danger of falling as it is.

Kevin looks at Ruth and the absence of coffee, and he silently vanishes towards the kitchen, leaving Dillen to make explanations to Grey.

Dillen runs a hand through his hair and reaches for one of the good beers. "Hope you don't mind. I know this is your stash." He says before he opens it. "To tell the truth, I was not there. I was told to stay where I was and guard. Kaz was the only galliard there." Dillen grinds his teeth for a bit. "All I know is that they came back and told me Clemency was dead. She had asked me before she went to give you her bag if she fell."

Grey gives no obvious objection to the beer-drinking, either verbally or with body language. He grunts an acknowledgement to Dillen's words and asks, in that same somber, flat tone, "Any other casualties?"

Dillen shakes his head. "No." And pops the beer open and takes a long drink of it.

"Injuries?" asks Grey, his gaze still on the Get. "And was the fight successful?"

"They are all dead, the spirals." Dillen takes in a breath, "Plus about ten zombies that headed for the main fight that Cole, Morgan, and myself took out." He then describes the obvious wounds he saw on the garou as they came back.

Ruth stoops to let the beers onto the coffee table, setting them upright afterwards, hastily enough that she knocks one back over. She rights it again, leaving a damp smear across the table from the cold beer, and turns away again. Hesitating between returning to the kitchen and staying, she compromises by curling herself into one of the more distant chairs, feet on the seet, hugging her legs.

No sound from Kevin in the kitchen at all.

Grey's eyes flick sideways, his gaze spearing Ruth for a second or two before turning back to Dillen. He grunts again, then drops his head to rake fingers through his thick, greying hair and stare down at the bag between his feet.

"She was writing something furiously before the fight. She shoved it into the bag before she stashed it and told me to give it to you if she fell." Dillen leans back in the chair, looking to the elder Walker.

"Kettle," Ruth says, and slides gracelessly out of the chair, ehading for the kitchen again.

"Another damned letter," Grey mutters. He grimaces, then, and pushes smoothly to his feet, one hand closing around the handles of the bag as he rises. "Excuse me," he says, and then walks out the back door, passing through the kitchen on his way out.

"Grey. I'd like to know what it says... If people should know more about her." Dillen tries to get the words out before Grey disappears.

Kevin is lurking in the kitchen, possibly trying to prove the old adage that a watched pot never boils.

Grey doesn't answer Dillen, nor look at Kevin and Ruth, hiding in the kitchen. The back door swings shut behind him.

Dillen lets out a deep breath and runs his hands over his face. "Fuck." He can be heard to mutter. The beer is swallowed down and the bottle is set on a table. He rises up and heads for the door.

"I liked Clemency-rhya," Ruth croaks, fumbling in her jeans pockets and dragging out a crumpled tissue. "S... sorry. Kettle hadn't boiled." She wipes at her eyes again. "I'll do the coffee. And... and maybe he'd... like to be alone?" she adds hesitantly as Dillen appears in Grey's wake.

Kevin turns to look at Dillen. "It's your call," he says quietly. "We may not be packies any more but I hope we're still friends, if you want to let anything out."

Dillen looks to Kevin. "Friends?" Dillen considers this. "I learn about your charach in a moot. I get called down for defending your life because I believe it is wrong to just kill someone without giving them a chance to defeat the wyrm. Yeah. I suppose I am still your friend. Still gonna take me a while to forgive you." He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, walks through the door and outside."

The sound of the Torino starting up again give note of Grey's departure. He peels out rather quickly.

Ruth sniffs loudly, and blows her nose again. "Still want that coffee?"

Kevin doesn't pursue Dillen, or respond at all until the galliard is outside. His face remains a smooth bland mask as he reaches into a cupboard, and pulls out two coffee mugs. He stands there holding them for a moment, then with a bitter-sounding but incoherent snarl, he lifts both above his head and hurls them both as hard as he can to shatter on the floor.

Ruth flinches, then gives up all attempt to stay strong, slides down the wall to sit on the floor, and buries her face in her hands to howl.

Kevin gives a dreadful twitch as Ruth starts to weep bitterly. "I'm sorry," he croaks, "I'm sorry I'm sorry." He makes a step towards her as though to comfort her, then retreats nervously, dithering for a few seconds before he finally gets the courage to squat down by the cub and place his arm cautiously round her. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he keeps on repeating.

Ruth leans into the Cliath, rocking slightly, as her sobs begin to quiet. The cub begins to shake, her shoulders tensing. She lifts her head suddenly, which is not an attractive sight, flushed and damp with strands of hair plastered across one cheek. "Why?" she screams, still shaking. She screams again, a sound of rage and sorrow and helplessness.

Kevin speaks in a low and affectless tone to Ruth. "You remember I said I'd tell you some things that cubs don't normally get told," he says. "This is one. We're in a war. We're soldiers. Soldiers die. Sooner or later, every soldier meets a bullet with his name on. Today it was Clemency. The thing to do," he grits, "is to make sure it's not got your name on tomorrow."

Ruth stares at Kevin for a long moment, her breathing growing slower, one last renegade tear coursing down her already wet cheeks. There's no sorrow in her expression now, just determination. "Who'd know what happened?" she asks the ragabash, her voice rough but insistant. "You weren't there, were you? So who'd know?"

"Not this time," Kevin says. Releasing Ruth, he uses his hands to pull his t-shirt out of his tracksuit pants and haul it up to expose his abdomen, across which run a series of jagged, pink-red, brutal scars. "But garou can survive a wound like this. So whatever got her was worse."

Ruth leans away as Kevin starts to pull up his shirt, then leans back again, staring at the scars. "So what did... no. wait," she stops herself, and carries on calmly. "Can you tell me what did that to you sometime, but not now, and tell me who else was in that fight, if you know? Please?"

"I haven't any idea," Kevin says hopelessly. "How would I know? I wasn't there." He pulls his shirt back down angrily. "If you don't mind, Ruth," he says then, "I'm going to get that coffee at last, and go to my room with it."

Ruth shakes her head. "I don't mind. If you do, I mean. I'll get that coffee for you too if you want." She starts to clamber back to her feet. "I'm sorry, it's... You know what it is. You've done this all before. And... and thank you, too." Her feet crunch over fragments of the broken mugs as she heads to the cupboard and reaches to get two more. "I'll clean up."

Kevin gives a small nod and waits for Ruth to pour out the coffee. "I'm sorry you had to witness all this," he says as she hands it to him, "but... it had to come sometime." With a thin humourless smile he walks out of the kitchen.