"As a garou, you are half spirit yourself. So'm I."

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.

Edward, lounging as comfortably as possible against the theater's broken turnstile and using his folded-up sweatshirt as a makeshift headrest, takes advantage of the afternoon light filtering into the lobby to read through the stack of assorted recent newspapers piled beside him. He's currently reading a coffee-stained paper section from last Friday.

The front door to the cinema shakes back and forth, and the chains tying it shut rattle. A voice with an oddly mid-Atlantic accent then calls from outside "Kaz? Kaz, you home?"

Edward is startled by the jangling chains. He tosses the newspaper aside and scrambles up to his feet, approaching the door warily. "Who wants to know?" he replies.

A momentary pause from outside. Then, "Kevin," responds the voice. "That's not you, is it, Basil? Quit joking around and let me in."

"He's not here," Ed calls back. "Not Kaz, either."

An exasperated grunt from outside. "I didn't expect to see him in the city at this time of month, but I couldn't think of anyone else it could be. Now, do I have to stand out here with my finger in my nose all day, or are you gonna let me in?"

"I don't know if I should," the cub replies sheepishly.

"Oh for pete's sake," the voice outside says. "I've been coming here for years." The voice becomes quieter, as though its owner is speaking through the crack in the doors. "Years, I tell you. And Olga's never not let me in, nor Yi, nor Basil, nor Masao, nor Tommy Gun, nor Kaz. If you like I'll bring you a bag of broken computer bits to rummage through. Or pizza. But don't make me huff and puff and blow your house in."

The lobby is quiet for a few moments. Then the chains rustle, and the door swings ajar.
"Thank you," says the lanky youth revealed as the doors finally open, not without a hint of peevishness. He steps forward and eyes Edward. "Okay, you're not Basil," he agrees, "so who are you?"

A little under six feet tall, this teenager is squarely in the middle of his gangly, awkward phase, not looking especially strong or resilient judging by his thin arms, narrow shoulders or spindly chicken legs. His dark brown shoulder-length mop of hair is tangled and a little greasy; his light brown eyes are framed by a pair of thick eyebrows. His narrow, slightly upturned nose and wide, thin mouth are set on a round face specked with the peachfuzz stubble of adolescence. He's wearing a plain white T-shirt and a blue sweatshirt tied around his waist, and a pair of brown jean shorts with ragged hems.

Edward shoves his bangs aside. "My name's Edward," he replies. "I'm ... new here, I guess. New-ish." Impressive introduction thus complete, he offers his hand to Kevin.

Kevin cracks a smile at that. "Good to meet you," he says, shoving a hand out towards Edward's and gripping it in a tight but not bone-crushing grip for a second. He kicks the door shut with his foot as he does so. "Nobody told me you guys had a new recruit. I'm Kevin, and I'm a Glass Walker, if that means anything to you yet."

Edward's blank look reveals that it doesn't mean much yet at all. "So, uh, what brings you here?" he asks, making small talk as turns to lock up the front doors with the chain.

"I like to drop by regularly," Kevin responds. "I live not all that far away, and your guys Basil and Kaz are two of my closest friends. Kaz is helping me out with some stuff right now. Plus," he adds, "your people and my people don't tend to get on all that well, which is kind of crazy if you ask me, so I make a point of showing that I don't believe in all that nonsense by coming by when I can."

"Oh." Edward tugs on the chains to make sure they're tight, then pauses. "Your people?"

"Glass Walkers," Kevin repeats, a slight frown furrowing his brow. "Um, sorry to ask... you do know who these people are whose 'house' you're living in, yeah?"

"Oh, that kind of people," Edward realizes aloud. "Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean now," he adds sheepishly.

"Had me thinking for a moment you were some human kid the Gnawers had taken pity on," Kevin says with an exhalation of breath. "Though I couldn't see how they could have you here with Squeaks running around and all... but yeah. The Glass Walkers and Bone Gnawers are supposed to hate each other. When I was a cub, I nearly got my block knocked off for inviting Olga over to our house. I thought it sucked then, and I still think so now. City garou should stick together. Hell, all garou should."

Edward nods politely, turning his attention to his newspapers on the floor. "How many ... how many types of Garou are there, anyway?" he asks as he crouches, gathering up and folding the old paper into a neat pile.

"Depends on how you're divvying us up," Kevin replies with a grin. "Would you like it by tribe, breed, auspice or sign of the zodiac?"

Edward picks up the stack and places it on top of the turnstile. "By tribe sounds interesting."

"In that case," Kevin says with a gleeful grin, "there's twelve. Or thirteen. Or even fourteen. Depending on how you count."

Edward scoops up his sweatshirt from the floor. "That many?" he says, somewhat surprisedly.
"That many," Kevin confirms. "You Bone Gnawers and us Glass Walkers, that's two to begin with. And the third tribe that's mainly city-based, in this city if not elsewhere, is the Get of Fenris. Don't piss them off, they have shorter tempers even than the rest of us. Sheesh," he adds quietly, "I hate trying to compress every tribe down to a one sentence stereotype."

"Eh, I'll find out who they all are eventually," Ed offers. He wads up his sweatshirt and folds his arms over it.

"You'll have to," Kevin warns. "Do you want the full list from me, or would you sooner wait for one of your own people to deliver it? I'm happy either way."

"Either way, I don't mind," Edward says, shrugging. "If you don't feel like it, I won't bug you."

Kevin regards Edward with his head on one side. Then he makes a visible decision to change tack a little. "Never a problem to teach a newb," he assures the cub. "OK, how much do you know about your own tribe?"

"Well jeez, not much. Something about rats," the cub replies, drumming his fingers on his arms. "They haven't really talked too much about the history of it all."

"History's important, but not hugely so," Kevin says. "Time to learn history when you've learnt all about where your feet are planted in the here and now. Which in your tribe's case is right here, in the heart of the city's nastiest bits."

Edward nods thoughtfully. "I don't know much about St. Claire either," he adds. "I only moved here like a year and a half ago."

"Year and a half?" Kevin looks thoughtful for a moment. "Hell," he then says, "that's just about how long I've been living here."

Edward shrugs again. "I guess I've got a lot to learn, then," he concludes.

"Nil desperandum, kid," Kevin says, reaching out to punch Edward very lightly on the upper arm. "You'd be surprised how much of it falls into place once you start. Take rats," he goes on. "Why'd you think you Bone Gnawers have such an affinity for rats?"

Edward chews his lip as he thinks it over. "Well, uh, I guess rats are pretty good at living in cities, and Bone Gnawers live in cities too, maybe?" he offers.

"That's one reason," Kevin agrees. "But it goes deeper. Probably deeper than a non-Rat like me can know. But rats get everywhere," he explains, "you can't keep them out, try how you will. And you guys are like that too. You can get inside where you're not meant to be and mess things right up, which is a damn useful skill. Rats are pretty near impossible to kill, as well, and so are you lot. And... this isn't going to sound altogether complimentary, but rats breed incredibly fast, and so do Bone Gnawers. There's more of you than of almost any other tribe, I understand. Not every other tribe thinks this is a good thing, though, so don't be too smug.""

Edward makes mental notes of Kevin's points, nodding along as he follows along. After some thought, he offers a question of his own. "So if Bone Gnawers, like, are cool with rats or whatever, then what about, I dunno, Glass Walkers?"

"Another animal that's hard to kill," Kevin says, smiling once more, "is the cockroach. (Okay, it's an insect.) Roaches have been living in cities since cities have been there for them to live in, and Glass Walkers follow Mama Roach like you guys follow Mama Rat."

Edward doesn't look especially impressed with the reply, but his mild disgust passes quickly. "So all the tribes have an animal like that?"

"Totems, we call them," Kevin says, "though it's not a very good word. Makes me think of Indians. Totem spirits are more..." He shrugs for lack of words. "Intense?"

"Totem spirits, huh," Edward echoes, looking dubious. "Like, there's an actual rat spirit and roach spirit and all that, or something?"

"There's spirits in pretty much everything," Kevin confirms, "if you know how to look. As a garou, you are half spirit yourself. So'm I. We can enter the spirit world, the Umbra. But don't do that without someone else there. Can be dangerous." He tugs his tracksuit up and reveals a big, ugly scar on his midriff. "I got that in the Umbra."

Fred opens the door to the Odeon and pushes his way inside, mumbling the entire time.

Edward raises an eyebrow at Kevin's mention of the Umbra, then winces at the scar display. "It seems like almost everyone I've met here has a big scar like that somewhere," he notes. "Is that usual?"

"Entirely," Kevin says laconically, tucking his tummy back in. At Fred's entry, he turns, raising an eyebrow at the stranger.

A filthy well-beaten wide-brimmed hat is the first thing one is likely to notice about Fred. Followed by the fact that he is wearing a pair of equally filthy jeans, that are being held up by a pair of suspenders. A once white shirt is only partially closed due to missing buttons and is more of a grayish brown these days, the elbows having long since worn through. Easily visible under the shirt is a necklace made out of turtle shells, feathers, and sinew, that is easily visible to to a shirt that is lacking all but three buttons near the bottom. There are two small but clearly defined sigils on the largest and central shell. Fred's feet are adorned by well used leather boots, dark tan in color and lacking any laces. Across his shoulders, the fellow carries a well worn cloth bag that clearly holds a few items.
Fred stands at just under six feet in height and is Caucasian by descent, with a heavy brown beard that more closely resembles a small forest then facial hair. The parts of his face that are not obscured by the beard are heavily tanned and wrinkled and one would guess his age to be forty or older.

Fred continues his grumbling, tugging at his beard with his free hand. He doesn't seem to notice the others in the relatively dark Odeon, eyes focused on the floor.

"Uh, hi?" Edward offers a tentative little wave at Fred as he enters, squinting back at him.

Kevin clears his throat noisily in an obvious ploy to attract Fred's attention. "So, yeah. Me and my battlescar had better get back home," he goes on to Edward. "If Kaz or Basil show, tell 'em I'd like to see 'em?"

Fred looks up and squints into the darkness. "Howdy," he greets, tone on the surly side as he hefts the bag on his shoulder.

"Sure, sure, I'll tell them," Edward assures Kevin, smiling politely. "Nice to meet you, by the way." He then turns his attention back to Fred.

Kevin stands up and walks towards the doors, and towards Fred. "Howdy yourself," he says. "Just leaving here. Should be back later, so you know me if you need to open the door to me." He gives Edward a meaningful glance then continues doorwards.