room 4.

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Room 4 at The Brotherhood of Thieves had, for the past two months or so, been occupied by a solo girl, the only Kinfolk to keep residence at the restaurant/boarding house. While the other rooms were painted stark white with bland, cream-colored carpet and plain furniture and bedding, Room 4 was made far different by its inhabitant. The walls were painted a rich brown, the molding painted white, and a large gold-brown-red rug was placed over the carpet in the center of the room to bring more color and life to the area. There were two beds, slid up against seperate walls, and they both had high thread-count sheets and thin quilts to match the color scheme of the room, the thick down comforters stored away in the closet when the months switched from cool to warm.

The bed to the left was the one Gabbie had been sleeping in, and above it shelves were reccently hung, holding pictures in frames and decorative knick-knacks. Above the other bed, and along the walls elsewhere, several paintings done by the youngest Bellamonte's own hand were hanging rather than prints of famous artists' works. There was a desk, a coatrack, a bookshelf, and an armchair added as well. It would be crowded were the furniture not placed thoughtfully and the color scheme not warm and cozy.

Gabriella herself was set at the desk under the windowsill, dressed in her pajamas, which tonight consisted of a simple lilac-colored and lace-trimmed nightie with thin straps and a hem that fell just a centimeter or so above the middle of her thighs. Her legs were crossed, her hair was twisted back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck to keep out of her face, and she was fairly intently practicing a sketch, transferring a photograph onto the paper, testing her own skills in a sketchbook before she bothered to put it on a canvas. A desk lamp had been turned on rather than the room light itself, and a candle at the other corner of the desk was lit as well for scent and comfort.

To say the least, she certainly wasn't expecting company.

[Nessa] Nessa, a study in classic Shadowlord colors of black, pale and the colors of deception, watches the drop dead gorgeous woman across from her, allows her curiosity to be seen, felt. Scoots over on the couch, so that Lonna can share, maybe offer to trade toe polishings.
It's an impulsive thought. Attractive.

"Me too. But then, I like crossing boundaries, generally speaking. " Faintly naughty. She isn't lovely like Lonna, has an athletic body rather than the blatantly sexual curves of the Child of Gaia woman, but her expression is... not unaccustomed to breaking rules, indeed. There's a grin, a desire to share secrets, perhaps.
Just plain welcome.
"You need vodka?" She pushes the flask towards the other woman, the container of gauze for touch ups and smoothing, whether toes or throats.

[Alexander Vaughn] Judging from the stomps on the steps, you'd think there was a giant coming up the stairs. When he finally crests the top of the stairs and comes into view, though, Alexander Vaughn is merely medium-height -- 5'9" or so, which, in the world of towering Garou, puts him on the short end of the spectrum.

He's clearly fit, though. He has a motorcycle jacket and helmet under one arm and a big, big backpack slung over his back, the strap gripped in his free hand. That bicep bulges. His shirt is bright red, reads TapouT in black stencil-letters across the chest; it's shortsleeved, showing off ripped arms and a tan that definitely didn't come from Chicago's rainy springtime.

And he is showing off. There's something about his manner, his walk, his alert, judging glance over the common room's inhabitants that brings to mind some compact, proud, preening creature -- a fighting cock, a sparrowhawk. He looks at the people in the room and interrupts them without any apparent unease whatsoever.

"Hey. Room 4? Can someone point me over?" He jostles the pack on his back.

[Lonna Larson] There was something to be said about Lonna Larson and her sense of taste. She was a tall woman, tall enough to be a model but a little too curvy to do anything except centerfold work. Alas, Lonna Larson was not Miss June. Too much clothing... however, because her legs were long, her shorts were short.

Sandals were discarded, and then she took the pink nail polish. She wiggled her toes a little, letting a content smile spread across her face quickly. It was a kid-in-the-candy-store moment. If the Shadow Lord came bearing chocolate, this would all be over. Lonna would pledge her undying, eternal love forever and always.

They would elope. Become lovers. Get married in Massachusets and buy a condo.

Alas, this was not the case.

So, Lonna opened the nail polish and started on to working. Or, well, started to almost working until she saw Alexander. She stopped, staring at him with those bright turquoise eyes. She blinked. And then seemed to think for the time being; he was looking for room four. The blonde pushed some of her hair back.

"Sure, it's through that door-" she said while pointing to the opening. "Should be the next-to-last door on your left. Next to a corner. Near the bathroom."

[Nessa] At the same moment, the other Miss Helpful answers Alex's question as well.
Nessa points a finger towards the correct hall when the customer from the few nights before shows up. "So. Not just customer then. 4 is that way."
And she is not American born. There's a surprise; foreigners by the score, most of them hot hot purebred kinfolk, flock to Chicago's sept. Maybe, if Alexander lives long enough, he will see the phenomena for himself. Nessa hasn't.
Or rather, hasn't recognized it.
Being only kin has its benefits.
(Perception+empathy Checkin out the lonna!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 5, 7, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Nessa] Blue eyes, not as nondescript as Edwin's, meet his nearly-not-any-particular colored eyes. She has lined them, given highlights, mascarad-- she has features, tonight,and even cheekbones. All of it pales,c ompared to Lonna.
And that is just fine. Beauty draws the eyes and leaves the Shadowlord to work in peace, undisturbed.
"So, did you make it to see Isaac's grave, Lonna? I hope you did. He was good man. Good garou." This, for Edwin, who may or may not be hidden now.

[Edwin Morr] As Alexander interrupts, Edwin's chuckle becomes louder, as though he found something incredibly funny. Shaking his head, Edwin's shaded gaze meets Alexander's without flinching, even though he stands a mere inch above that of the kin.

The laughter ends as Nessa mentions Isaac... And although the lopsided grin remains, it becomes exceedingly wry. His unmistakable drawl flows from the corner toward the two women, as the shaded eyes take on new intensity.

"Whatcha lookin' fer Isaac fer?"

[Alexander Vaughn] "Nope." Not just a customer. He doesn't elaborate. He flashes a grin, hefts the backpack on his bag, and nods at the two. "Thanks!"

He looks like he's moving in. He looks like the backpack contains a large portion of his worldly possessions. This may or may not be true; the bottom line is, he still looks like he's definitely moving in.

To room 4. With Gabriella. When Room 3 is occupied by another single male, and rooms 7 and 9 are totally empty.

He doesn't explain it. In fact, Alexander probably looked at the room chart Reuben passed over -- along with a suggestion to double up to save space -- and decided to go with the kin and not the Garou. The girl, and not the guy.

So. Room 4. And he doesn't even nod. Alex just lets go the strap of his backpack, digs in his pockets a while, finds his keys, and shoves the room key in the door. A second later Gabriella's door swings open and Alexander shoulders in, casting a glance around before he blows out a breath.

"Nice, I love it when the room comes prefurnished." WHUMP. The backpack lands on the empty bed. "Hi, I'm Alexander. We're roommates now." The jacket lands on the bed next to the backpack. He sets his helmet atop the bookshelf, and then throws himself down on what's now his mattress to start unlacing his motorcycle boots.

[Lonna Larson] There was a hitch in her painting. A pause, and she inhaled. The child of Gaia pushed her hair back out of her face again, and then she looked at Nessa. She shook her head, and then went back to painting. Lonna responded, voice even.

"Not yet," she said. Nessa hoped she had. Hopes were; life went on. "I haven't had that much-"

Oh, look a person. She stopped painting again, and her eyes were wide for a moment, and she blinked.

"..."

There were words that were supposed to come. That weren't coming.

"Be... cause I wanted to talk to him..?"

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Gabbie didn't lock her door often, and tonight was no exception to that. So Alex stuffed the room key into the hole in the center of the knob and twisted, and there was no telltale clicking of a latch being undone. One way or the other, however, he barged into the room with a verbal exclaimation, startling Gabbie enough that her pencil moved off course, but thankfully didn't drastically cut a line across the page. She twisted about in the desk chair to look and see who had come in, and was taken aback to see an unfamiliar face that she didn't quite recognize (yet).

She stared as he clomped in on heavy boots, dropped backpack and coat onto the spare bed, and propped his helmet up on the bookshelf, somewhere that she couldn't reach and so hadn't bothered to place decorations.

He introduced himself by giving a name and explaining, shortly, that they were roommates. Her silence broke with a sound that was a half-strangled laugh.

"Oh, no no no. I'm sorry, but as you can see this room is occupied. I'd be more than happy to direct you to one of the two empty rooms remaining? They have beds in them as well."

It hadn't quite clicked in her mind who he was yet. After all, when she had seen him his nose was in an entirely different place and his face was smeared with and pouring blood.

[Nessa] Her pinky toe has a smear. The polish wasn't quite right there, doesn't gleam as it should. Nessa takes the bottle and a drink of the excellent libation, then dampens a bit of gauze and carefully cleans the mistake away. The brush in her skilled, pale hands strokes on more color, glittery red color, sexy and eye-catching, lures the attention towards actually quite lovely feet, trim ankles, gymnast-strong legs; this means critically, away from her face.

"Lonna, I would introduce you to Edwin but ahh, if you will forgive, I did not catch your full name when we met." Her eyes offer apology; grieving, that Nessa understands very well. The memory of it, recent and old, burns inside her.
Rather like the vodka.

[Alexander Vaughn] Alexander stops and shoots her a quizzical, disbelieving look. Then he finishes yanking off his left boot, drops it on the floor with a thump.

"Pfft. I checked with Reuben downstairs. He showed me the occupancy chart. This room's for two, sweetpea." The second boot gets unlaced, tugged off, dropped with a thump. Then he tugs his backpack over, unzips the main compartment, and starts rooting through it until he comes up with a pair of loose training shorts.

"So what's your name?" he asks, conversationally, while he peels his socks off and tosses them in the vague direction of the armchair.

[Edwin Morr] "Reckon dat's reason 'nough. 'Fraid Nessa's right though... Yer ought'a luck."

He nods, then tilts his head as he looks at Nessa for a moment. His grin lopsided and amused all over again.

"Hell's bells, ain't dat a peach."

Then, with an idle shake of the head, Edwin approaches and slides into a chair nearby. As he sits, he slouches quite contentedly, an all to relaxed habit that just happens to make his height hard to figure. His eyes focus on Lonna curiously...

"Name's Edwin Morr... How 'bout you?"

[Lonna Larson] She looked at Nessa, they were both used to that sort of grieving, and Nessa looked.. injured. Ad for a moment she seemed distraught, and for a moment she seemed out-of-sorts, as though her world didn't make sense. Lonna's brows knit, and her turquoise gaze became apologetic. The need to reach out, the desperate desire to fix it, however, was kept in check for now.

Nessa was right though, she was out of luck.

"Freddie told me I was about a year late to do any talking, so..."

A pause, she looked at him, and then continued.

"Lonna Larson, it's a pleasure."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] The look she had been giving him was the same one that you would expect from a well-trained receptionist-- polite, friendly, helpful, but you knew it was strictly for show. This is what he sees when he looks up at her with that expression of disbelief. But when he makes a noise of dismissal at her and calls her sweatpea, that switches to something of a soft scowl. She was studying him harder now, more thoroughly.

His boots are unlaced and thumped unceramoneously on the floor, and he started rooting through his bag until he could pull out a pair of shorts. As he did this, he asked her name. She responded absently.

"Gabriella..." Her bright blue eyes flickered after the socks as they flutter toward the armchair and just fall short of landing on its arm, and her nose wrinkled in response. Nasty, socks that had been worn all day were bad enough, but ones inside of boots? Those were the worst. Her tongue ran over her lips and she slowly set her pencil down on the sketchbook. She turned in her chair so she was facing him directly, crossed her right leg over the left at the knee, and folded her arms over her chest. Needless to say, a nightie wasn't exactly the most modest sort of clothing that you could be meeting a person in.

"Listen, I understand that this room is intended for two, but I would appreciate it if you would reconsider and opt for a vacant room rather than residing in mine. To state the obvious, you're entirely too strange, tattoo'd, leather clad and male for me to be comfortable sharing sleeping quarters with you."

[Nessa] "What does peach have to do with bells, Edwin?" He confuses her.
Seriously. English does that, specially when its mangled, shredded and mushed as per his accent.
Nessa stares at him oddly, for ragabashes do strange things with words. Was this a game? A joke?

[Edwin Morr] "Pleasure's all mine, doll..."

Then, as Nessa asks, he shrugs.

"It's jes' an e'spression. 'Tain't nuthin' ta get all hung up over."

Edwin's lopsided grin a tad less amused, and perhaps a tad more insistent... Shaded eyes narrow slightly, as his gaze returns to Lonna.

"Freddie who, e'sac'ly?"

[Lonna Larson] "Freddie... his brother?"

She looked at him, and for a moment, Lonna was the one who became cautious. The Child of Gaia started to paint again, making sure that she got at least one foot done before starting in on her next line of musings.

"... I'm going to guess you and Isaac knew each other?"

[Alexander Vaughn] She points out his tattoos, of which he doesn't actually have a great deal -- but then, the one he has that she can see is a litany of names on his right arm, all of them female, one of them with the word FOREVER under it. Forever didn't last very long. Gabriella's probably right to be disapproving.

"Sweetpea," he calls her that again, patiently, and now he's getting back to his feet, "the way this room is set up and the way you talk, I can only figure you're some sort of trust fund baby. But let me break it to you. This ain't no nice lakefront apartment on the 500th story of a highrise where you get to screen your roommates and pick and choose until you find a prissy little princess like yourself. This is sort of like a college dorm: the roommate you get is the roommate you get, unless there's a real problem with her. Or him.

"And," he continues, unzipping his pants now with absolutely no shame, dropping his jeans to the floor (his boxers are grey and rumpled), "since I don't intend to smoke, stink, listen to loud music all night or bang strange women in my bed while you're trying to study for finals, I'd say you," he flashes her a big, shiteating grin, "have no grounds for complaints."

Whumpf. His jeans hit the armchair. He steps into his training shorts instead, and then tumbles his backpack to the floor, tosses his jacket on top of his jeans, and flops down to stretch out full-length on the empty bed.

"Nice sheets, by the way," he adds.

[Nessa] Having done, Nessa looks over her toes and wiggles them again, though cautiously. They sparkle. They are scarlet.
Much better than a letter A.
She smiles, cat who got the cream contentment on her face, which means, of course, she has a secret.
"Hell's bell peaches. I will remember," she promises her tribesmate. "Hmm is good name for polish color, da? I get some, I paint your toes too, Edwin." Demure offer.

[Gabriella Bellamonte] A mini-lecture is given on the way that the living arangements at this Garou-Kinfolk exclusive boarding house functions, how she doesn't get to chose roommates, she gets stuck with them. He calls her a trust fund baby, which was true and she really couldn't dispute, he calls her sweetpea which was irritating, but hardly hurtful and easy enough to ignore, and he calls her a prissy little princess, which was something she was called so often that she had learned to let it slide by. If she got pissy and started a fight every time 'princess' was slung at her, she'd either be dead or an excellent brawler by now.

Then he dropped his pants, and it was only human nature to glance. A boxer man. At least they weren't something embarassing for the both of them (or, judging by Alexander's attitude, embarassing for her and smug-inducing for him), like something bikini-cut and a flamboyant shade of red. With an indignant huff, she pushed her eyes back up t his face and frowned at him disapprovingly.

"Alexander, tell me, have you nowhere else to stay? Do you chose The Brotherhood because you have no choice? Do you chose this particular room because you want to rub people the wrong way and start friction where none is necessary? Or do you just find my furnishings and decorative taste desirable when compared to the other rooms available?"

Pause. "Speaking of which, my chair is not a laundry hamper. Even animals in the zoo pick a corner to defecate rather than do so on their play equipment."

[Edwin Morr] "Reckon ya could call it dat... Isaac never mentioned a bruther, but I reckon we all had 'r secrets."

Edwin nods, then chuckles as Nessa mentions both the saying and painting his toenails.

"Don't rightly reckon red's m'color, Nessa. Always figur'd m'self for more fer black, 'r blue.

Mebbe 'nuther time."

After a moment so spent, he continues...

"Isaac, Blast, Erich, 'n me was packmates, right up ta th'bitter end...

An' after he done got kilt, we settled up accounts fer 'im.

He was a packmate, an' a friend. How'dya know 'im, if'n I may?"

[Gael Sandoval] The newest (or, at least, second newest, now that Alexander was moving in) resident of the Brotherhood was just getting back in from a long walk in Grant Park, and he slipped casually through the kitchen as if he'd been hanging around for years. As if this were his home, and not some place that he was staying where all of the faces were new and the landscape was alien.

Tonight he was dressed in roughly the same sort of clothes he'd had on the day before: jeans and a black t-shirt. Boots. Nothing fancy. The wounds left over from last night's fight (those small ones that Caleb hadn't managed to heal) were gone now. All that was left was a new, pink scar on the side of his neck, where it met his shoulder. A bite mark. (Gael was beginning to wonder how many new scars a person could get in the span of a week.) It was a strange thing, to die and yet not die. He'd done it before and would likely do it again many times, but it never got any less disconcerting.

Then again, he was getting used to that too. The stairs would creak slightly as he made his way up to the second floor, moving quietly down the hallway towards room +3, his new home away from home.

[Nessa] (Woot! new persons! welcome!!!)

[Alexander Vaughn] Alexander pulls a pillow from beneath the bedspread and jams it under his head. Then he points at the armchair and its contents.

"Those," he says, "are clothes. Not shit. When I start shitting on your chair, you can bitch about it. In fact, if I start shitting on your chair, you can start trying to push me out of this room.

"Until then? Stop complaining, sweetpea." Why did he even bother to ask her name? "I like this building, I like this room, and I don't want to move in with someone who barks in their sleep," he must mean the Garou inhabitant of Room 3, "or take up a whole two-bed room by myself."

And Gabriella gets a pointed glance there, smirking.

"As for unnecessary friction? Sweetpea, you're the only one getting hot and bothered about it. I think this living arrangement is just fine." And he closes his eyes, as though he meant to take a nap right then and there. On her sheets. And her comforter. And -- well, it's not her bed anymore, is it?

[Lonna Larson] "We met in New York. Had a few good times... then.. well... I left, we talked every once and awhile. He said he was going to Chicago, and if I was ever in town, I should look him up."

There was a degree of nostalgia there. Something quiet and pleased that sat in the realm of memories. She wore the expression openly. She pushed it away when the time grew right, when it started to feel too much like being lost. She shook her head, and it was back to reality. Lonna blinked, and then decided to keep answering questions.

Edwin was his packmate; Lonna had not heard much about his pack. Then again, she had met him in New York. Things changed. They always do.

A pause, and then?

"I'm glad to hear you settled everything for him, though."

If there was more there, she didn't ask.

[Seamus MacKenzie] *The young man came down the steps from the El train stop. Getting to the bottom he looked up and down the street and headed down it. Towards the Brotherhood in general, humming a bit to himself as he walked. He'd checked the address twice on the train so he didn't need to look at it once he was on the street. Granddad had told him where it was.

Passing the Brotherhood he went down another two units before cutting up the alley and up the back towards the brotherhood. Once there the back door to the kitchen opened and he stuck his head in. Having not been here before he entered slowly and made his way though the kitchen till he spotted the steps and then nodded to himself, heading up.

At the top of the steps he paused again. Seamus didn't really stand out all that much. You'd pass him in a crowd and never look twice. He didn't have the bulk of many garou, nor the feral nature. About 5'9 to 5'10" he didn't tower. Nor was he too short. Palish skin. Brown hair, plain. Looks that didn't get bricks thrown at him but certainly not the beauty that many of the garou and kin in town possess. Tonight he was dressed in sneakers and dark gray jeans A blue button up but no tie. Over it a theigh length jacket hung. Glasses perched on his face and he reached up to push them up. He looked young but carried himself with the confidence you don't normally see in high school. He was in that middle area.... not a boy but perhaps not fully a man. Late teens or earily 20s. Where many people find themselves*

[Seamus MacKenzie] (( Places? I think a few people are in bed rooms but hard to tell whom))
to Alexander Vaughn, Edwin Morr, Gabriella Bellamonte, Gael Sandoval, Lonna Larson, Maija, Nessa

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Alexander had changed into his sleep shorts in front of her, tossed sweaty socks, a pair of jeans, and a jacket onto her nice plush armchair, and then stretched himself out on the bed on the right side of the room. She stared at him in mild disbelief the whole time, like she was waiting for him to stand up any second, laughing, clap her on the shoulder and tell her that he was just pulling her leg.

Elaborate joke, haha, you just got Punk'd.

Her head rolled back on her shoulders and she sighed, lifting her hands from where they folded to hide the fact that no girl in her right mind wore a bra under their nightie, Gabriella included, and rubbing both hands over her freckled face. Groaning quietly, she then ran her fingers back across her scalp to tighten her ponytail at the nape of her neck and rolled her head back up so she could look at him.

"Do you understand the fit that Caleb and Sam would throw? Not to mention Katherine, when she gets back. Either you get out now, peacefully, or they drag you out in a way no doubt loud, violent, and bloody."

...Bloody.

Dear Lord, this was the man whose face Hatchet and Aidan collectively smashed in. When this realization hit, she looked at him differently, as she would if he'd just told her that he was a rodeo clown for a living and put on a rubber red nose to prove the fact. "Dear God it's you, the troublemaker."

[Nessa] "Pack Isaac and Edwin were in were ahh claiming of me for some time. Edwin and Isaac were always of honor towards me. Always fun, nice. Mostly nice, when not teasing me." She does not acutaly smile, no sign of wistfulness for that time, not those memories of the past. "Is strange, that far back-- couple years, full lifetime."
Luc's life, specifically.
A man comes in, walks down the hallway. Nessa nods to him, this man with the scar on his neck. She has scars too, but only one is visible; the hand holding the nailpolish bottle has exactly three fingers left on it.
When the kid with glasses comes through, she will nod to him just as casually.

[Seamus MacKenzie] http://www.chicagodusk.com/index.php?jove=gallery&picture=3213

http://www.chicagodusk.com/index.php?jove=gallery&picture=3214
to Alexander Vaughn, Edwin Morr, Gabriella Bellamonte, Gael Sandoval, Lonna Larson, Maija, Nessa

[Alexander Vaughn] "Who're Caleb, Sam and Katherine? Your Garou buddies? Well, if they don't like you sharing my room," oh, now it's his room, "they're more than welcome to find you accommodations elsewhere."

Then she calls him a troublemaker. He opens one eye and looks her way, frowning. "What does that mean?"

[Seamus MacKenzie] *Reaching up he smiled and nodded to the ladies. A hand pausing then, a second as he looked to them* G'evenin'.

*Then it continued on up to push his glasses up. Lowering the arm he looked around the common room and raised his brows to those that were there. Turning he made his way over* What goes on?

*The Scots accent easy on the ear and in the small select nation that these people live in. Probably telling as pure blood running though the veins.*

[Maija] The cab pulls up behind the brotherhood, and deposits one waif-ish thin Gnawer kin by the back door. Not just the kin who's practically swimming in the dingy over-sized gray hoodie, and tattered jeans. It's thanks to that detective that she can even afford the cab, which is a minivan, which is a good thing because there are boxes in the back. The landlady made no bones about the fact that whatever was left in the morning would be put in storage and sold at auction if he didn't come back. And she doesn't know if he'll be back. At all. Ever.

The cabbie helps her unload the boxes, but won't go any further then stacking them by the back door. Great. She pays him, and slides her arms into the straps of her backpack - packed fuller then ever before, and takes a deep breath.

This is the last place she wants to be.
Beggers can't be choosers.

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] ((Guys care if I jump in?))

[Edwin Morr] "Well, I keeps m'promises. An' I never ferget a debt."

Something in the way he says it hints at more than that lopsided, amusedly wry grin seems to fit...

Then, after a few moments' idle consideration, he continues.

"Why, thank ya Nessa... Actually, we were a right nasty bunch ta have 'roun'. But since ya ain't sore, reckon I'll try a might harder ta torment ya now I'm back.

Y'know, if'n we plan ta keep talkin' bout th'past like dis, we oughta get some drinks. Reckon a fresh bottle'a ol' Doc Daniels' magic elixir is jes' th'ticket."

Shaded eyes move to the man at the door without comment, from the slouched garou on a chair in the common room upstairs.

[Maija] ((course not, I drug you here.))

[Gabriella Bellamonte] "Caleb, I suppose you could say, is my current guardian. Sam is a Get of Fenris that I may or may not be in a relationship with anymore, and Katherine is my overbearing, overprotective older sister. And yes, they are all Garou."

Scowling at him, she rose from the chair and tucked it under the desk when she did so. Apparently she liked things orderly. Rising, she went to the closet and opened it up, sifting through an extensive, well-organized collection of clothing until she found what she was looking for. A blue silk robe with long sleves, styled broad like a kimono with Japanese designing on it in red and gold, was pulled on and tied closed at the waist. It was precisely the same length as her night gown and fell to touch the middle of her thighs. "And bear in mind, sir, that this is my room, not yours. You simply happen to be taking up space in it at this moment."

She shuffled around in the closet a little more, doing some rearranging that would take her about thirty seconds before she stepped back away from the closet and shut the door, though now she had a wicker laundry basket in hand, stained a dark brown to match the color scheme of the room. She walked over to the armchair, gingerly gathered up his jeans and socks (she gathered the socks by using the jeans so she didn't have to touch them directly), and tossed them into the hamper, which she set against the wall at the foot of his bed. The jacket was then moved to hang on a coat rack that was set to the direct right of the doorway.

As she worked, she spoke. "And by 'troublemaker', I mean the one who somehow managed to set flint to Taggart's Rage. You're the man whose face he beat in, aren't you? I spent a good five minutes at least mopping up your face while you counted sheep on the floor, then had to call an ambulance for you."

[Alexander Vaughn] (BTW folks -- a quick plug for Ken's oneshot in Chinatown right now! Go git sum!)

[Lonna Larson] There was a man coming down the hall. There was a man who had a scar on his neck, who had dark eyes, who was still trying to get used to the fact that he died, only to come back and not really die. He warranted a second glance, a bit of a nod. A look of curiosity.

But then?

Then she looked at Edwin, and a sligth grin seemed to cross her face and she started to stand up. As the relatively unpainted one, Lonna had the joys of getting to go get drinks. Where's the harm, right?

"Whiskey is the drink of choice for both reminiscing and drowning sorrows... and making chicken, so..."

It was off to go get drinks.

[Seamus MacKenzie] Ahh there'll be drinks? Seems ah showed up jus' in time ta rescue one from certain demise. Canna ya get one for me too, please?

*His smile was infectious and friendly as he nodded to Lonna. Not assholish, but a bit playful.*

[Nessa] "Well. Some of your pack was damned awful. But you and Isaac, I have always liked. Ah yes, Comrade Daniels. Is this what you said, other night, was so strong? And as for torment, you may try; perhaps is you, who will be tormented in turn." Suuuch a bland smile, while the glove goes down.

The finishing touch. Nessa removes a bottle of something else from her purse; it is not as tiny, the contents pale, opalescent. Creamy. This, she hands to Lonna with grave drama. Ritual movement.
Cream like this is serious stuff.
There's the faintest glitter to it, as well.
The ladies' legs are long, bare; Nessa's left thigh has an old, well-healed bullet scar, but otherwise, are pale and perfect. Lonna's perfection doesn't stop there.

The man with the funny accent asks questions, seems friendly enough, though the room holds more secrets than usual, more shadows, maybe too much mystery for the comfort of one not Shadowlord himself.

[Gael Sandoval] Inside of the room next to his own, trouble was being stirred, but he didn't realize this as of yet. Point in fact, Gael wasn't really paying attention to the muffled voices coming through the door as he walked past it. He was thinking about digging a book out of his things (which he had yet to finish unpacking) and hunkering down to rest for awhile.

(Yes, the Cowboy can read.)

He was inside of his room and plunking himself down on his bed by the time he actually bothered to make note of the tones in the voices nearby. The particular rises in pitch and volume that suggested things like stress and irritation. This caused him to glance forward at the wall which joined his room with the next, and gaze at it as if somehow he could see through the drywall. He wasn't really attempting to eavesdrop so much as just... gauge the tone of the situation.

[Alexander Vaughn] For the most part Alexander ignores Gabriella's attempts to tidy up her/his/their room. When she mentions Taggart and that rather unpleasant night, though, he takes notice.

Alex's face darkens for a moment. He raises himself on his elbows, the cut lines of his chest and arms tensing. He's a man that keeps himself in obsessively good physical condition. Gabriella hadn't seen the fight begin, hadn't seen the fearless and precise way he'd snatched up his motorcycle helmet to try and bash Hatchet's head in with, but she saw the end. She can still guess from the way he kept on trying to fight even with his nose smashed to splinters that Alexander's no slouch in a fistfight, that he knows what he's doing, that matched against a human, he'd probably win.

Which makes the fact that Hatchet very definitely beat his face in all the more humiliating. And she reminds him of this. And for a while he glowers at her, the smug shit-eating good humor gone, the cocky devil-may-care air gone.

Then, slowly, he relaxes into a smirk. "Yeah well. Actually, I started that fight. He sat down, was a rude little bitch, and flipped me off." He shrugs. "I had to at least make the effort. Anyway, he just got lucky with a punch."

This ... makes sense in his head. He lowers himself back to the mattress.

"Thanks for calling the ambulance," he adds. "I had an awesome roommate at the hospital. And you know what? He didn't bitch that his duplex suddenly had a second guest."

[Maija] She slips inside, and asks one of the kitchen workers to watch the boxes for her - just for a few minutes, and then makes her way to the bar to talk to Danny. She explains her situation in a low tone, then let's him know what Marcus had told her about moving out. A few more words, and then with a nod, she offers him the slightest of sad smirks, and turns to make her way back to the kitchen.

She thanks the guy, and lets him know she'll take care of them as soon as she can -grabs the lightest of the boxes and starts hoofing it up the stairs.

Destination? Marcus' room.

[Lonna Larson] "What're you having?"

The child of Gaia grinned a little and lingered at the door frame. Ever the gregarious one. Ever the pleasant one. Ever willing to help, it seemed. And while she was going down, she may as well get what was needed.

[Seamus MacKenzie] *Seamus flashed his smile to Lonna* Ahh... my heart. Ah'll have what ever you're havin' love. Cheers!

*Taking a seat with the group he reclined a bit and slid his glasses off and into his jacket* Seamus MacKenzie. Ya can call me Seamus, or Mac. Nice ta meet cha all.

*Scottish charm and friendly nature flow over the kin and garou both. Bright blue eyes flicker over to Nessa's leg at the bullet hole and he leaned a bit to try and gauge the caliber that so mared such perfect flesh*

[Edwin Morr] Edwin just grins that lopsided grin and shrugs at Nessa.

"Time will tell, doll."

Then, the shaded gaze turns to the Scottish-sounding newcomer to the common room. His lopsided grin was amused, but wary...

"Nice t'meetcha..."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] She mentioned Hatchet, and that convinced Alex to straighten up some, stop lounging and hold himself up on his elbows to half-glare at her, but not her directly so much as the memory she offered him the chance to reflect upon. He glowered for a while, and as he did this she settled to stand somewhere in the middle of the room width-wise, but not length-wise. Her bare, unpainted toes touched the soft edges of the rug and her arms folded under her bustline, making her appear all the more displeased while she glowered right back at him.

Sooner than later, the man relaxed and smirked. He admitted that he started the fight, and her lips parted in the Gabbie equivilant of a jaw dropping open. She stared at him like he was a lunatic while he leaned back to stretch out comfortably on top of the quilt and sheets once again, and only after his smartassed comment about someone else not bitching about a roommate was made did she shake her head and speak up.

"You believe that a Garou with that many scars and that much experience in war just got lucky, and that's why you were miserably bested? You are as deluded as you are stubborn."

There's a few moments of silence on her part, then her face softened into something mildly softer, perhaps even a note pitiful. Her tone of voice was tired, in the sense of strain rather than the sense of 'I need to sleep', and she spoke gently, politely to attempt to appeal to him.

"Alexander, please. I'm just not comfortable with any of this."

[Nessa] Probably a lower caliber; a concealable pistol, bullet meant to be one of many, not do the job in a single round. Perhaps it was a .22. Her left hand, now... the flesh has been pulled bakc over the hand where the fingers were, stitched but not with great cosmetic expertise. It's a field job, nto a pretty one.
Still, she's got the rest of the hand. Can't complain.
"Nessa Malikoff. Mr Mac." For what sort of man would call himself Shame-us? She avoids that name.

[Alexander Vaughn] ...miserably bested?

Alexander doesn't just push himself up on his elbows. He sits up entirely, swinging his legs off the bed in a single sharp gesture, his fists planted at the edge of the mattress.

"If he was in his goddamn furry form, yeah," Alexander snarls, low, all but vibrating with anger. "He could've torn my head off, no contest. But in that form? He. Got. Lucky."

He gets to his feet. For a moment Gabriella might think he was going to come across the room and try to clock her with his helmet, too. Not comfortable probably takes a step toward really, really, totally, not-fucking-comfortable. But he doesn't. He just flings back the sheets on the spare bed, and then he crawls in under them and turns his back to her, punches the pillow a few times, pulls the blankets up. By then all the activity's burned off some of his irritation, and Alexander emits a huge, affectedly satisfied yawn.

"Now get over it. Like I said, you don't like me? You can move. But I'm staying. This room totally rocks." He closes his eyes resolutely. And then, probably just to be a giant ass, he adds -- syrupy sweet, "Goodnight, sweet pea."

[Seamus MacKenzie] Nice ta meet cha both. Nessa Millikoff and... well. You mate. *A bit of a grin offered to them both.* Rioght nice place here... Safe house over a pub. A bit of a stroke of genius. Easy access ta nibs and spirits. An not the sort that swim the ether. Very nice.. Must be sheot on business with the straights though.

*A flicker off a finger to Nessa* Ukraine? South east? Or am ah just way the fook off? Love the deep tonals of the language though.

[Maija] She maneuvers the box into a better position, and despite the unwieldy burden, her steps are quiet, and even now she does the best to not attract any attention, though she knows from experience, that's nearly impossible.

She rounds the top of the steps, and without saying anything to those in the common room, she moves straight from there, past the doorway, across the hall, and sets the box on the floor. She digs in the 'roo pocket for the key, and unlocks the door, slipping inside - all with barely a sound.

She reappears a moment later - the sweatshirt gone, leaving her in a simple tank top over those tattered jeans, the pack likewise tossed on the bed in the room, and she closes the door behind her, locking it again, as she goes back for box number two.

[Gael Sandoval] The voices had quieted, and Gael gave up on his wall-peering to bend down and dig through his backpack to pull out a faded paperback copy of East of Eden. He'd stolen it from a library in Missouri. As a philodox, he ought to feel bad about that, but he didn't.

Then he lay back with his feet crossed and hanging off the side of the bed and opened the book to the last page that he'd dog-eared.

He got about halfway down when he heard Alexander's voice snarling in the next room. That was when he put the book back down, sat up, walked out into the hallway, and calmly knocked on Gabbie's door.

[Nessa] "Moscow. Thank you, I wash accent every morning so is at its best. Ahh yours... Irish?" She guesses. ALl those Brits sound alike to her. And she might just damned well say so, if inspired. "I am not so good with accents. Once words touch English, they are fucked."
A woman walks by with a box; Nessa nods to her too, one she might have seen before in fact. The woman looks busy. Nessa smooths the lotion slowly over her feet, up her pale legs. A faint luster remains on her skin when her work is done, and this she admires, raising her leg one way, in attitude.
It's so not... Work related.

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Alexander snarled at her, which it seemed that people with even a fraction of wolf blood were much better at doing than regular folk were, and rose to his feet. For half a second she was quite convinced that he was going to stomp over to her and do one of several things, none pleasant, all violent, and she thought that she might have to put her knee in the crotch of his track shorts.

But he didn't. He insisted that Hatchet got lucky, and Gabbie decided to just let that one rest. Fine, he could go on believing that, no skin off her back. He told her to 'get over it', to move out if she didn't like him, and then told her frankly that she could move out. Now she just felt like stamping her foot, and might have if she didn't know she'd get laughed at for doing so and falling into her stereotype. Rather she just curled her hands into fists tucked against her ribcage and fixed a glare on the back of his head when he climbed into the bed, pulled the blankets up over his shoulders, and called a goodnight to her with the nickname that he'd given to her five minutes ago and already felt permanent.

"This room 'rocks', as you put it, because I put time, effort, and money into making it this way. So, this 'rocking' room is mine. And I'll have you know--..." She's cut off by the knocking on her door. Turning to glance over her shoulder at it, she wondered for a moment whether it was one of the previously mentioned men coming to bust Alex's skull in already. Sighing yet again, she turned around, not even bothering to finish her sentence (because truth be told she wasn't sure where she was going with that tangent anyways), she walked to the door and opened it up to see yet another complete stranger.

And here she was in her sleep robe. Wonderful.

"Yes?"

[Edwin Morr] Edwin just watches for a short bit, before speaking. The slouched garou stands, shaking his head and chuckling.

"C'mon, russky. Yer brother's prolly walkin' ovals in th'rugs fer ya ta git yerself home.

I'll walk ya."

[Seamus MacKenzie] *Seamus gasped and leaned back putting a hand over his heart* IRISH? Ack. ya wound me. *A bit of a grin and he shook his head* Thick blooded Scottish, lad here.

*Those blue eyes flickered down when she did that thing with the lotion.

He forgave her.

Eyes flickered over next to the raising Garou and his head tilted* If ya don't tell me ya name, ah'll just have ta make one up for ya man. Mmmmmm Maybe a Bert?...... Or a Joey?

[Alexander Vaughn] Alexander doesn't reply. He's either asleep (unlikely) or doing his damnedest to pretend at it.

[Mackenzie Walsh] Her car was perhaps not the most inconspicuous of vehicles.

It had the rather unfortunate predilection to lurch into gear if she didn't stroke it precisely the right way with the sort of tenderness you'd more easily associate with a pet than a serviceable car but she adored the Cadillac all the same and no amount of provocation on her new employer's part had yet made the slim young woman pulling around outside of the Brotherhood desire to part with her inherited car.

Her door creaked as she pushed it open and set a pair of heels on the ground beside her own sneakered feet, rising to switch one for the other before tossing the runners onto the seat of her car and snatching up her bag, slinging it over her shoulders. Shouldering open the door to the restaurant, the petite Fury looked over the interior the way any newcomer to a business might.

[Lonna Larson] She finally came back upstairs, having been detoured, more than likely, by someone looking like they had a particularly rough day or had been engaged in some particularly engaging conversation. Whatever it was, it made the Child of Gaia come back up the stairs with whiskey a little slower than she had originally anticipated.

There were still people there. She was unaware of the room mate war that was going on in Room Numero Quatro.

She jus tknew she had whiskey. And that was good enough for her.

[Gael Sandoval] "Gael Sandoval. Jus' moved in next door." (First name pronounced Gai-el.) He introduced himself in a polite drawl, angling his thumb to the left to indicate which room he was coming from.

"Jus'... thought I'd check an' see if everything was alright."

Compared to Gabbie's delicate features, the Uktena was... intimidating. Tall, broad shouldered and muscular, with dark eyes that had something of a piercing quality. He didn't act intimidating though. Not at the moment, at least. Right now, he was just another nice Texas boy. All the same, when he glanced past Gabbie to look at Alexander's back, his gaze seemed to harden a little.

[Maija] Behind Lonna comes Maija with box number two.

Top of the stairs, not a word, through to room one, unlock, inside, deposit the second - heavier - box, exit and lock the room behind her again, back toward the stairs...

Lather, rinse, repeat.

[Nessa] "Actually, we don't live together. He stays with his pack, but he and some of them have been away on ahh duty. But I appreciate ride back, is good. Don't suppose you have motorbike?
"
Nessa smiles and stands, pearly legs and all. The black knit skirt slips back to where it should be, just above her knees. She has shoes someplace, bends over to peer under the couch for them, bends completely in half without any need whatsoever to flex her knees. Goes with the leotard. There is flexiness.
Under the couch, she finds them, slides the strappy stilettos with the little sparklies onto her feet. Admires them, has a Cinderella moment or two. Then she is ready, grabbing purse, shovelling only the flask in. "Here, Lonna, you keep polishes? Tell me what you think! Pumpkin hour for me, da?"
Gift given, she walks over to Edwin, her balance apparently unharmed by strappy stiletto heels.

[Gabriella Bellamonte] "Gael, pleasure to meet you. Gabriella Bellamonte." She introduced herself as he did, returning the favor, though he sounded like a friendly neighbor come to introduce himself to the neighborhood like his mother had raised him to do. She sounded like they'd encountered one another at a socialite's event, a fund raiser or orchestral concert or something of the like. She kept her arms folded across her front, to keep herself comfortable and certain with the fact that her robe would remain closed and the double layering of clothes made it less apparent that she wasn't properly clothed underneath.

He asked, in one way or another, if everything was alright and glanced back at the lump in the bed on the other side of the room. As he looked toward Alex, she did as well, twisting at the waist and turning her head to peer over her shoulder at him. She frowned as though irritated, but not quite to the point of true, seething anger or actual insult. Then, shaking her head a little, she looked back up to the broad-shouldered Hispanic man.

"Oh I wouldn't say it's 'alright', but I wouldn't say that there's any danger eithere. Merely an annoyance."

[Lonna Larson] "Hey, Nessa?" she started to ask something, and then?

"I was wondering, sometime? If you wanted, I'm looing for a chick flick buddy and..."

She may as well ask. Something small and uncomplicated, but the message was clear- Lonna Larson, with the amazing curves and the long blonde hair and the killer smile, needed female friends. Or, at the very least, friends who would cry over Titanic with her.

[Alexander Vaughn] (don't wait for me, guys!)

[Gael Sandoval] ((Perc+Empathy))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Nessa] Nessa turns, and her jaw nearly drops. The woman blinks, and.. and ... nods. "I would... like very much. My number is..." ANd she repeats it quickly, takes Lonna's down in a phone nearly magically produced from her skirt someplace. Must be a pocket.
"I don;t know one soul who likes chick flicks too! Is very lovely day, that you walked into Brotherhood, Lonna."
Now THIS is genuine. Screw neccesity. Lonna is getting to her.

[Seamus MacKenzie] *Seamus watched the interactions between the people seemingly largely ignored. looking at these beautiful people he wasn't too surprised.

Smiling a bit he leaned back and waited. Would the big guy give his name? Would his words be heeded, would the pretty blond pass out the spirits? Such were the questions of life*

[Edwin Morr] "Call me Morris."

He grins that lopsided grin, before waiting for Nessa to start toward the stairs. As he sees Lonna, he stops a moment to speak.

"I'm 'onna run Nessa home... If'n ya wanna talk 'bout Isaac some more later, reckon I'll be 'roun'."

[Edwin Morr] ((Manipulation + Subterfuge, diff = 6 (Wp spent)

Hail Kahseeno))
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]

[Mackenzie Walsh] She is perhaps a little too well put together to be a regular.

Her suit is unwrinkled, navy blue on a cream blouse and the bag she carries is not so much a purse as a serviceable document carrier. Several strands of dark hair have come loose from a twisted hair clip and frame a face that while appealing is not particularly staggering. Or rather, not made up to be so. Perhaps it could be if the woman wore a little more than blusher and lipstick.

As it was, she seemed too -- constricted, to be conventionally pretty.

She certainly did not make a bee-line for a table, but rather followed in a waiter's stead, sliding papers from a side-pocket of her case. "May I have a moment?" The brunette asks of a young man bustling with a collection of dishes. He looks at her with ill-disguised mistrust, eyes raking her clothes before gesturing her toward the bar.

Mackenzie follows his lead, her expression perfectly schooled to pleasant neutrality.

[Lonna Larson] The questions of life were answered, and with a resounding yes. Lonna was a bringer of many things, and whiskey was one of them. She smiled a little, and then looked at Nessa. She seemed almost palpably excited. Chick flicks. She... had... somone to watch movies with!

The Child of Gaia beamed; today was a good day.

"Great! I'll call you," and then, for Edwin. "I'll be around, if you want to talk sometime, I'd really like that."

[Gael Sandoval] He cocked his head to the side as he looked back at Gabbie now, as if perhaps he wasn't entirely certain of how to handle the situation. There was a man in the room who she was clearly irritated with, but beyond that... perhaps it really wasn't any of his business.

"Anything y'need help with?"

The lack of immediate danger had mostly eased his concern, but not entirely. The tone in his voice practically oozed: this fellow bothering you ma'am?

[Nessa] It is easy for anyone aroudn Lonna to be overlooked; she does take over a room, and not in a bad way. Nessa's heart shifts a little with something warm and fuzzy, palpably excited, as she walks out with someone warm and fuzzy. Well, he's fuzzy sometimes.
It should count for something.
An unexpectedly wonderful night!

(night all, thanks for scene!)

[Maija] Box number three? Heavy. She manhandles it from the back door, up into some sort of comfortable carry, but for the fact that ti's heavy, and she's not exactly the biggest, strongest of girls. In fact, it looks like the weight of the box may very well break her in two.

This trip up the stairs? Slower. More effort. Even a huff, possibly a puff.

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Gabriella didn't need to be a mind reader, or even particularly good at reading emotions and expressions that lay under the surface of every person with a pulse that she's encountered, to know what he was really getting at. Gael was asking, politely enough, if she wanted him to walk in and physically drag Alexander out by his ugly logo shirt and his sleeping shorts.

She shook her head faintly and smiled up to the man in response.

"Thank you for the offer, but no thank you. I certainly don't need a fight breaking out in my room, nevermind how difficult blood is to clean from fabrics."

[Edwin Morr] "A'ight. Reckon we'll give't a go den."

With that, the man with the shaded eyes and so easily forgotten features disappears into the darkness of the stairwell behind Nessa... Leaving in his wake little trace he had ever been there at all.

((Gotta go; night folks *wave*))

[Seamus MacKenzie] *Seamus watched them go and chuckeled a bit to himself and then looked to Lonna* Well, love. Ah guess that leaves us. *His smile is infectous as he offered his hand* Seamus MacKenzie, nice ta meet cha.

[Gael Sandoval] He frowned slightly at that. Her assumption irritated him, but not enough to ruffle his fur, so to speak.

"Wasn't suggestin' a fight. Don't generally make a habit 'a beatin' on kinfolk." He paused, then gave a nod and took a step back. "You need anythin', I'll be downstairs."

And with that, he turned and started to head in that direction, having decided on second thought that he could most definitely use a drink right now.

[Lonna Larson] She took his hand, giving it a shake. She smiled brightly, she seemed ever-so-pleased to speak to. And, well, she was also a ridiculously beautiful woman.

"I'm Lonna, nice to meet you too."

[Seamus MacKenzie] *Turning to look to the steps* Ah'm afraid ah went and scared off ya friends. Didna mean too but ah'm told Ah can be intimidatin' at times.

*The young man grinned at her and then to the glasses she'd carried and raised a brow He didn't look very intimidating. He looked rather friendly and playful*

[Maija] Speaking of those steps - up clunks Maija with that third box, her pausing at the landing to catch her breath, before she stubbornly heads toward room one, once more.

3 down. 2 to go.

[Gabriella Bellamonte] Gael frowned, assumed that she meant that she thought he would start the fight. Were she in the mood, she would have explained to him that that wasn't what she meant at all. He seemed like quite the polite southern boy, and she was quite certain that he would have attempted words first. She was just positive that it would turn into a fight because Alexander, up to this point, had given her no reason to believe that he had methods of communication beyond smart-assery and fists.

Whatever, she would apologize for the misunderstanding later.

With a quiet sigh, she watched him walk away from the door, then closed it gently, letting the latch click into place. Turning about, with her face set into an expression of determination, she unfolded her arms and walked over to the side of Alexander's bed, where she would stand and watch him for a few seconds, as though plotting her next move. When those seconds passed, though, she grabbed the covers and yanked them down off his body, so that all that was left covered was what existed below his knees.

This done, she straightened up, hands on her hips, and frowned heavily at him.

"I tried being polite and asking. Now I'm telling you: Get out."

[Seamus MacKenzie] *looking over Seamus raised his brows to Maija* say, ya need any help there?

[Mackenzie Walsh] "Drink?" The young man returns in short order to the bar and to the young woman sitting with apparent endless patience on a stool with her legs crossed to one side, a document with a picture clipped resting beneath her clasped hands on the bartop.

"Just a coke, please." She instructs, and for a moment a corner of her mouth threatens a smile as she considers how easily she could be mistaken for a teetotaler, the frequency with which she was forced to refuse drinks from those she visited in an official capacity. She could have added that it wasn't personal, but it there didn't seem to be much point with someone who was rankled by nature.

"So, what can I do for you?" If I have to help, his tone suggested.

He set a coke before her, and Mackenzie slipped the picture from her file and held the glossy paper. "This woman has been reported missing, I wondered if you'd seen her around here at all?"

The bartender frowned, and leaned in to peer at the photo; his thick brows drew together and he looked at the young woman, staring at him expectantly. "You a cop?" He gave her another once over; and a faint blush rose in her cheeks. "You don't look like a cop."

"I'm a lawyer, actually." She responded pleasantly enough, her voice accented.

[Maija] She blinks, and then though she wouldn't want to normally - she... sighs. Deeply. "Yeah, alright. Would ya? I got two more boxes an' they's heavier then this one... dunno if I kin lug em up here..."

[Seamus MacKenzie] Soor thing there. Sorra ah didn't offer afore but ah didn't realize ya were movin' in.

*Standing he picked up the glass Lonna had brought for... lets say Nessa and tosses it back with out even a blink* Be rioght back. *A wink was tossed to the coggie and he jogged over to go help Maija*

[Lonna Larson] She nodded a little, then looked at the bottle of Whiskey. She then waited, and let the world reacquaint themselves with one Mr. Jack Daniels.

[Gael Sandoval] Gael glanced at Maija as he started down the steps, noting as she passed by that she seemed to be moving into one of the rooms. He was about to open his mouth and ask if she needed any help... when another man with an entirely different accent beat him to the punch. Just as well. He continued down the steps and made his way out into the dining area of the first floor, intent upon the bar.

That was when he noticed Mackenzie.

"Hey there," he tipped his head in acknowledgment as he came to stand against the bar a few feet away. "You get home alright, las' night?"

The tone in his voice was gentle. Concerned.

[Alexander Vaughn] (shit! why didn't you IM me to tell me you'd posted directly at me?)
to Gabriella Bellamonte

[Gabriella Bellamonte] (( 'Cause I didn't need to before? :) ))
to Alexander Vaughn

[Maija] She offers a nod, but no smile. "They're right outside the back door - books, so real heavy. Thanks."

And she manhandles the one in her arms into room one, blocking the door open so Seamus can deliver the other two.

[Seamus MacKenzie] Ahh then we might be right fooked. Ah'm not what cha'd call the worlds strongest Scot. *Heading down he ducked though the kitchen and looked around the back door. Eyeing the boxes he grabbed one and grunted lifting.* Me an mah big mouth...

*Grunting again he hefted it and staggered back towards the stairs.*

[Alexander Vaughn] And... amazingly, Alexander was actually asleep by the time Gabriella came over and yanked the fucking covers off of him.

"What the fuck!" he exclaims, sitting up, grabbing them back from her. A moment -- he rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand, squints up at her. Then he figures out what she's bitching about: the same thing she's been bitching about since he walked in.

"Listen," infinitely patient, which suggests Alexander was losing patience, "if you want me to get my own sheets, I'll do that tomorrow. I'll even get a goddamn laundry hamper, and we'll split the shelves and the dresser and the desk and all that shit, just like good roommates.

"But the bottom line is, unless you've worked out some deal with the proprietors that I'm not aware of where you magically get this entire room to yourself, then you have no right to tell me to get out. None. This isn't your room, Princess, it's the Brotherhood's room. You don't get to decide who sleeps here, the Coltranes do. And the Coltranes marked this bed," he thumps it with the flat of his hand, "as empty. So, if you don't like me as a roommate, you can move out. Okay?"

There's a beat of pause. Alexander smiles pleasantly.

And then he shouts: "Now FUCK OFF."

[Gabriella Bellamonte] (( WP: Let's not be a stupid girl ))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 5, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Maija] If he's having that much problem, one can well understand how she was having difficulties. At 5'6", she's barely 110, only if she has a brick in the back pocket of those threadbare jeans. And without any rage to speak of... it's obvious she was having problems.

She sees him head up the stairs, and makes sure the door is open, so that he can set it somewhere on the floor.

[Seamus MacKenzie] *Comming in he put the box on the bed and sorta sat bounced and flopped* Oh.. sheesh.. ain't that a pisser. An there's another? Well.. nothin' for it.

*Getting up he headed back down to get the last one. Stopping by lonna to pick up... That other guy's drink and downed it. Nodding with the fortification he headed back down stairs to fetch like a good lil kin.*

[Gabriella Bellamonte] It was a good thing that Gabriella was practiced at controlling herself, truely it was. Otherwise she wouldn't be able to keep her hand from flying out and striking the man across the face. That would, no doubt, earn her a black eye and maybe even a broken rib before she got bodily thrown out into the hallway. Rather, for the second time, she curled her hands into fists and took in a deep, slow breath through her nostrils.

Then, quietly, she spoke to him in a tone that was all restrained aggression.

"Fine, Alexander. You win for tonight. But God help me, tomorrow night you will be out on your ass and my life will be back to normal."

As normal as a Bellamonte kinfolk's life can get, anyways. She turned away from him then, and returned to the closet. When her eyes left him, she willed herself to ignore his presence entirely. From a shelf she'd set up in the closet she grabbed her clutch from out of her purse and her keyring. A pair of soft white slippers were pulled out from their set place and put on her feet, then the closet door was closed. Carrying her clutch and keys in her hands, she closed the closet and walked out of the room.

Let the asshole have his way for the night, she'd sleep elsewhere, but God as her witness this wouldn't be the case tomorrow night.