jello.

[Marrick] Marrick Fisher needed a job. A real job. A job that gave her consistent pay and didn't consist of her having to threaten to beat someone's face in for paying her seventy-eight cents to a man's dollar.

She had one hundred twelve bucks in her pocket and her knuckles ached subtly at whatever point she had made. That one hundred was traded for seventy-two, and the Fury got herself a pair of nice pants and a nice shirt at Target. Because, as we all know, Target was infinitely classier than Wal Mart. That forty-something dollar outfit [Oh, and socks, because she needed socks desperately, and plyers, because she lost her old one, and a can of WD-40 because everything in the pack house squeaked and it was enough to drive her to madness] was shoved into a twenty-something dollar backpack that she's had since middle school.

This working for half wages wasn't working for her, so instead she had chosen to walk to the park. Marrick made her way down the street, past the south side of it and onward. There were things that she needed to explore, and the entirety of the south side was one of them. She passed by trashcans, anemic trees-

And gyms with vaguely familiar logos.

[Alexander] (sorry guys, i'm slow, at work, and easily distracted!)

The gym's logo should look vaguely familiar; Alexander has several shirts and shorts and sweatshirts bearing it. And why look, there's the jackass himself, in the flesh and large as life, leaning against the brick wall outside Tribull with one foot cocked up, sole of his shoe flat against the wall. Another man might've been out for a smoke, but Alex doesn't smoke. Bad for your health, and all.

No, he's just ... standing out here. He's barechested, in loose boxing shorts, flushed from exertion, sweaty, muscles pumped. He has fingerless MMA gloves on, a mouthguard in his hand, and a bruise on his cheek. He all but stinks of bad mood and bad temper.

[Liadan] Fresh from the showers, Líadan Whelan stands in the doorway to one of the classrooms. The man she's talking to is several inches taller than she is, leanly muscular, and somewhat older if the short cropped salt-and-pepper hair is any indication. Lee's red hair, recently given a fresh coat of vibrant red, is wet and twisted up with a clip at the base of her skull. She's wearing her street clothes, jeans and a light blue tee, a pair of brown Chuck's with a white floral pattern on her feet. There's a gym bag slung over her shoulder.

As she speaks to the man, she doesn't stand close, doesn't laugh and give him coy looks over the rims of her glasses, doesn't reach out to flirtatiously swat at his muscular bicep. The two are talking intently about classes. After several weeks of basic beginner courses covering various martial arts, Lee is looking to focus on kickboxing.

The conversation ends with Lee heading to the lobby to sign up for classes starting next week. It's a weird thing for her to think about, taking the classes, learning how to fight. Learning how not to die pathetically. She pushes through the main entrance to the outside, smiling a little to herself.

She sees Alexander from the corner of her eye, turns to look at the big, sweaty ball of attitude, and the smile vanishes. There's a brief pause as she considers engaging him. It lasts about half a second and she continues walking forward, in the direction of the slim blonde in the forty-something dollar Target outfit.

[Marrick] Ahh, behold, the Glass Walker jackass in his natural habitat. Observe as the male breathes and seethes and takes up the space afforded to him, and some of the space afforded to others. Like it was his domain. So, there he was, witha bruise on his cheek, mouthguard in hand, smelling like sweat and a bad mood, and Marrick's brain-to-mouth filter wasn't working today.

"Got a halfway decent one," she said, indicating the the bruise. "What's the other guy look like?"

She stood with her weight planted, thumbs looped through her belt loops and she looked from Alex to... to... wow. Liadan was tall. With her here, Marrick was officially the smallest person standing around at a little over five and a half feet tall. Her hair was in a half-assed ponytail, and the red head who bled Fianna blood and strength and something was headed over. Marrick took her in for a moment, from head to toe, and whatever cliched direction she could look in.

It took a moment before she realizing she had met this woman before. The phrase mah bitches came to mind, it mentally made her twitch, then it was replaced with Chaucer.

Marrick remembered Lee.

[Alexander] Alexander's glowering stare burns briefly at Lee, then at Marrick. For a moment they might think he's going to ignore them and keep on sulking over whatever the hell has him in such a mood. Then he turns his head to the side, spits blood through his teeth -- must've cut the inside of his lip too, mouthguard or not -- and then gives them a big fat smile.

"Why, Callisto," he says. "And Babydoll, no less. Have you two met? By rule of transitivity you've fucked each other."

What a charming, chivalrous guy Alexander is. And then Marrick asks about the other guy. Alexander doesn't answer for a moment. From the other side of the building, Tribull's back door on Lake Shore Drive, comes the sudden diminishing wail of a siren. Sounds like an ambulance headed for Northwestern Memorial. Coincidence? We think not.

"Worse," he replies. This time the smile is sharkish, but it's genuine. "I'm supposed to be taking ten to cool the fuck off. And no more sparring for me today. Apparently I play too rough."

[Boy] ((You folks mind if I join in?))

[Marrick] (go for it!)

[Liadan] Lee turns, looks Marrick up and down at the mention of the rule of transitivity. There's an edge to the grin she flashes him. “Oh, Vaughn, how I've missed that wit.”

She adjusts the bag so it hangs across her torso. Her head cocks to the side at the sound of sirens. “Wow, you? Play rough? Psh.” She waves a dismissive hand before hooking her thumbs into the pockets of her jeans. Something about this asshole just keeps making her feel stand-offish, despite knowing she will probably never be able to take him in a fight.

“What are you all dolled up for?” This to Marrick, who Lee now looks up and down, ostensibly to take in the outfit.

[Boy] Boy didn't have a job. He had things he did on occasion that kept him busy, and people he talked to behind closed doors and would disappear when those doors were open. Wendy had a job. Marrick had something like a job. After a full week of being indoors, resting, hardly moving, Boy would have running.

And today his running had taken him through the park, chasing his own thoughts and finding places that he almost recognized in this still strange city. It was so much easier in his new shoes, clean new red Chuck Taylors that weren't really for running, but were far more durable and comfortable than his previous mis-matched, salvation army pair. He stopped just beyond the south entrance and admired the fact. Things must have been good at this new pack house of theirs.

[Marrick] "Wow, we fucked and we talked 'bout Chaucer. Was it good for you?" her voice was flat.

Transitivity, she thought. And, with that, the Fury logged the word away. She wasn't sure if she liked it yet, but it was something to be noted. Once upon a time, Marrick had taken a science course. Once upon a time, Marrick slept through that science course and was passed because she was on the track team.

Oklahoma was a wonderful place to be an athlete.

And she didn't think about the other guy looking worse, and she didn't hide the fact that a smile came to her face, somethign genuine that came out of hearing of bloodshed and hearing an ambulance head off. She didn't fgeel particularly bad about this, and maybe she should have, but as it stood, the Fury just grinned something too sharp and too carnal. She didn't have it in her to fake disdain.

"Ain't that you play rough, it's that other folks just can't take it," she said. "'sides, ain't like you bit the guy."

And then? Back to Lee

"Out job huntin'... sick of th'docks an' Home Depot. Figured I'd wash dishes or somethin'... but aparently you can't wear flannel to pick up job applications."

And, well, the rage, the Rage, the general ferociousness and primal something about her, best characterized by her earlier grin, was something that kept her from interviews for even contract labor.

[Boy] He threw his head in one direction. The usual crowd of people. He panted. He threw his head in the other direction. Another crowd of people. Only this time there's a more to the familiarity than 'Oh, those are Chicagoans.' This time it was more like 'Oh, that's my sister.'

Boy brought up the bottom of his shirt to his face, leaving an inverted silhouette of sweat. He headed over toward Marrick amiably, but stopped when he realized she was talking to someone. Who..? Wait, was that... Vaughn.

He headed over toward the group, this time considerably less amiable.

[Alexander] Transitivity. Quid pro quo. Two new terms Marrick has now in her arsenal, one of which she's already turned around on Alex.

"You're too intense to hold down a job," he points out, unvelcroing his gloves and pulling them off, flexing his fingers, giving his palms room to breathe. "You should just get into amateur prizefighting. Tribull just started out a women's div with that other gym crosstown... what's it called... Delano or something. Fights every Saturday, 4pm. Men's division fights at 8pm, primetime."

Looks like Kmart and Target aren't the only places with a glass ceiling.

He flicks a practiced eye over her. "What are you, like... 125, 130lbs?"

[Liadan] She nods when Marrick says she's out job hunting. “Well,” she offers, pointedly ignoring Alex's suggestion that Marrick go into prize fighting, “if you don't mind getting your picture taken, I'm a photographer. I could hire you on sometimes as a model. It's infrequent work, but from what I hear my rates are pretty decent.”

Lee offers a smile of greeting when Boy walks up.

[Marrick] "One twenty-seven... if I gotta do this shit in jello I ain't doin' it."

She was incredulous for a moment. But... she didn't seem completely turned off by the idea. After a second, she nodded a little and reached back to tighten her ponytail. It made Marrick grin just a tad, then she shook her head.

"How much does it pay?"

And, just about that moment, she noticed Boy. And whatever was there was gone, her attention shifted and she waved a little. Every bit her age, and almost a little excited to see him. Acknowledgment, someone familiar. Someone familial. "Hey!"

Should be enough to get his attention.

And then? Modeling? She looked at Lee, eyes wide and the Fury seemed... well, she seemed surprised. Like Liadan had just told the blonde that she was looking at free work. And, again, the incredulousness came back.

"I don't gotta do that in jello either, right?"

[Boy] ((Sorry folks. Other PC got commandeered.))

[Alexander] (nooo don't leave, just multitask! :D)

[Sinclair] "III got no strings to hold me down, to make me fret, to make me frown --"

It's a beautiful day, the sun is shining, the clouds are just enough to keep it from beating down, the temperature is essentially perfect, and Sinclair is walking along the sidewalk belting out:

"-- da-da-da, can't remember the words, it was a stupid movie a-ny-way!"

with a triumphant finish. Considering the fact that she is belting, more than actually singing, it's evident that she has enough vocal control to project her voice for some distance, so everyone outside of Tribull hears her well before they see her. At least three of them have probably heard her singing in the shower at the Brotherhood of Thieves, and know that how she sounds now is nothing compared to how she sounds when she decides to sing something other than Disney music.

Her hair is up in two high, messy knots, exposing all the various bits of metal in her ears as well as the tattoo on the back of her neck. The smaller hoops along the cartillage of her left ear each bear a small bead: black, yellow, blue. The hoop in her lobe is unadorned. The hoop in her right ear has a red bead, while the bar through the cartillage there simply gleams. There is a dandelion stuck in the right knot of her hair. She is not, for once, wearing the thick eyeliner and mascara she's seen so often wearing -- or applying, leaning over the sink to glare at her reflection in the Brotherhood bathroom.

She hums the song from Pinocchio with an air of consideration as she walks along. She keeps on humming, though with a bit more cheer, when she sees the group right in the middle of her path.

[Boy] (No, I mean the computer I was using got snatched from me. I've changed 'Puters now.)

[Alexander] Alexander blurts out a laugh before he remembers he's in a bad mood and stops.

"Fuck no, no jello. It's serious shit. Nah, I take that back. Bantamweights and flyweights are gonna be mostly uptown office girls looking to blow off a little steam after work. You get in a cage with them and they'll never come back. Might wanna compete up in the featherweight class. 145-155. Those ladies could actually hurt you.

"Payout's usually a couple hundred a fight. Not that many women cagefighting yet though, so you might not get a fight every week. But if you go on to regionals and states it goes up." Shrugging, "You actually have to be good to get that far though. And play by rules. And, y'know. Not bite." He smirks. "Oh, and pick a fight name. I suggest Callisto."

Snorting at Liadan's suggestion, then -- "Modeling? Seriously? Like Aidan?"

And then ... why look, it's the kid from the street the other day. And he doesn't look happy. Which makes Alexander a little happier, perversely. Alex slaps a shiteating grin on his face and straightens up a little. "Hey! It's the boy named Boy! How you doin', man!"

[Boy] Vaughn...Alexander Vaughn...Alexander Vaughn and...Marrick? And that woman that was singing with Hatchet. Alright. Alright, happy face. No, that never works. Just...put it away. Let it go.

"Hey. Hey Marrick."

Liadan gets a polite nod that amounted to the same, and Vaughn...Vaughn.

[Liadan] “Noooooo.” Lee's face scrunches up at the very idea of working with....with jell-o or anything of the sort. “No no no no no. No.” Her head gives a violent shake, as if trying to dislodge an unwelcome image. Not the thought of Marrick in jell-o. That's not an unpleasant image in the slightest. But the thought of making that much jell-o, that is a horrible thought.

At the mention of her kinsman, Lee actually gives a snort of laughter herself. To Marrick she just says, “No, nothing like that. I'll give you my card if you're interested, though.” She's so tired of throwing business cards out into the void. “And if you do the cagefights, well, this could supplement that and you'd make bank.” A shoulder rises and falls in a shrug.

[Alexander] "You probably would make more cash for less effort if you go in front of Lee's digital eye," Alexander puts in. "Especially if you flash your tits."

And then: "HEY!" He bellows this so loud Liadan's ears ring afterward, since he also bellows it over her shoulder. "Hey, ASTAROTH!"

[Marrick] (do you want to punch him in the face? Yes, yes you do... diff 6 +1 (external testes for the lose))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 5, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[Alexander] (block!)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Alexander] (*scuffs* *pushes that roll under rug*)

[Marrick] "I'll think about it, but couldn't hurt to take your card," she said to Lee. She seemed to consider, and for a moment her attention was diverted by the sound of singing.

Marrick Fisher rolled out of bed at some ungodly hour every morning after getting a lovely, restful, Hellish eight hours of sleep every night. She trudged off to the shower, glared at her reflection while brushing her teeth, and stood under the shower head until she was clean or the water ran cold. Marrick Fisher didn't sing in the shower, the ahroun didn't do anything in the shower except get soggy and occasionally consider skipping breakfast.

Then breakfast.
Then work.

And, sometimes, there was the occasional killing of something that delayed work or the breakfast or the showering. Occasionally, she did hear the singing, and it was... Hey, Sinclair.

You probably would make more cash for less effort if you go in front of Lee's digital eye, especially if you flash your tits.
"Where do you sign up?" she asked Alex. Jaw clenched for a moment, and the air felt a little warmer than it had before. She clenched her fists and, instead of doing what she wanted to do with clenched fists, she folded her arms across her chest.

Oh, look, boy was here. She gave him an upward nod, and it gave her somewhere else to look. The Fury met him halfway there. She unclenched her jaw.

[Boy] Vaughn speaks, Marrick tenses, and even Boy shakes his head, glaring at him.

But then there was his sister, who was as good a distraction as anything.

"Check it out." He says, pointing to the still-bright red sneakers on his feet, noticeably new. "Got some news. You remember that guy--"

And then there's singing. And then there's shouting. What is this guy's problem?

[Liadan] Lee just manages to roll her eyes and swallow an exasperated sigh when Alex practically shouts into her ear. The bellow, coupled with his sudden immediate proximity, make her tense up, and then she takes a step back.

“Hey, watch it, ass.” She reaches into her back pocket, pulls out the wallet full of business cards and hands one to Marrick. “Give me a call if you're interested. Now if you'll excuse me,” her glare is directed at Alex, not that he would care, “I have to be somewhere that isn't contaminated by this douchebag.”

Lee pivots and starts to walk away.

[Sinclair] She can smell the breeding on the Fury, but she knows her. Well. 'Knows' her in the sense that she gives up her chance to play video games far too easily, that she will never get better at Soul Calibur IV if she doesn't play, that she walks around naked and has no intentional marks on her, no chosen ones. They are the same height, their hair is the same color, their eyes are different shades of the same. Freckles. Callisto.

She can smell the breeding on the Fianna, but she doesn't know her. Doesn't know her face or her name but she knows her Tribe, and that is enough to make her vaguely curious, but not as curious as Joey would be. Nobody, Sinclair is convinced, is as curious as her roommate.

She knows who Boy is. Sees him rarely around the Brotherhood, hears his voice so infrequently she couldn't place it in the dark if she had to.

And then there's Alex. Sinclair bursts into an absolutely delighted grin and gives him the finger, which -- if her apparent glee is any indication -- is sort of how she waves hello. "Negative Seven, you fat bastard," she says, as though this is his name, as she strolls on up and drops her arm.

She nods to Marrick and Boy, peers briefly at Liadan, then decides to lean against the wall. She's wearing a pair of almost dangerously short cutoffs, the ends wildly frayed. Her Nikes are the same dark blue and white that they've always been, and the black A-shirt she's got on bares the tattoos and the metal adorning her biceps. Sinclair has obvious muscle tone, athletic rather than bulky, but it's still evident in every move she makes that she's in painfully good shape.

"So, who's holding?" she asks, looking around. "Or... are we all just loitering for our health?"

[Wreck] (Hey folks. I'm looking to throw in a little ST something here. Nothing terribly impressive but if anyone has an issue or wishes to not be involved,then feel free to speak up?)
to Alexander, Boy, Liadan, Marrick, Sinclair

[Alexander] "Negative Seven?" Alexander is puzzled. And then he straightens up. "I'm actually heading back in. It's been twenty fucking minutes. You guys heading back to the Bro' later or what?"

Liadan calls him a douchebag, glares at him. Alexander sends her a vaguely puzzled glance; then he decides whatever, bitch was probably on the rag again. He stuffs his hands back into his fingerless gloves, straps them tight.

[Alexander] (i'm about to head home, actually! may be back on later though.)
to Boy, Liadan, Marrick, Sinclair, Wreck

[Marrick] (I'm cool with it! I get off work at 9:30 so I'll be gone for, like, 10 minutes, but then I'll be back on!)
to Alexander, Boy, Liadan, Sinclair, Wreck

[Wreck] (That's fine on departures. Not going to doing any 'Rawr, kill you all' business right off the bat so easy enough to ditch and re-enter if folks desire. Just wanted to see if folks are ok by it.)
to Alexander, Boy, Liadan, Marrick, Sinclair

[Sinclair] [Not really feelin' it at the moment.]
to Alexander, Boy, Joey, Marrick

[Marrick] Marrick Fisher hasn't intentionally done anything to her body. She doesn't even have her ears pierced; it had been one of those things that they had never done. It had been something her sister Hannah could not have talked her into. At fifteen, it had been a consideration. At eighteen, it had been considered and deigned a liability.

Marrick Fisher had ripped earrings out before. It was not pleasant for the wearer. [Wear hoops and you're giving the girl an opportunity]

"Alex got sent to time out. He wasn't playing nice with his friends."

Straight from her own pre-school report card, but the names were changed to protect the innocent. As she going back to the brotherhood tonight? A slight nod, that yes, she was going to be there. And then the thought was continued. Elsewhere. "See you tonight?"

Then, back to Boy. "What's up with who?"

[Sinclair] Now with 30% more sending-the-PM-to-the-person-it's-meant-for!

[Not really feelin' it at the moment.]
to Alexander, Boy, Joey, Marrick, Wreck

[Sinclair] Sinclair exhales heavily, shoulders dropping, and shakes her head at Alex. "You suck at math when you're drunk almost as bad as you suck at Soul Calibur IV when you're sober," she informs him, glancing at his gloves.

For some reason, she cackles briefly, but that's cut off as Liadan walks away. Sinclair raises one eyebrow high, the other scrunching downward in a totally bewildered look. "Your girlfriends are the sweetest."

Her attention moves, unequivocably, to Marrick and Boy at that point. Alex is going inside after his Time Out, so she leaves him to toddle off and go back to peeing on old ladies or whatever it was he got scolded for. "I remember that guy," she tells Boy. "The one with those two eyes? And the hair?"

[Joey] Grant Park is so freaking fascinating! This is what Joey Oliver thinks as she cuts through on foot. She's wearing boots, jeans, and a tight fitting sleeveless black shirt. A nylon bag containing her precious aluminum bat is strapped to her back.

She walks along the path, looking up at the tall skyscrapers. Occasionally she spins. More often than not, the blonde Fenrir laughs. It's on one of her revolutions that she spots the group hanging out in front of Tribull. Her eyes slide across them, some of them vaguely familiar, others less so. She sees Sinclair and...

hurtles along the distance between them. “Sin!” Booted feet pound the pavement, her face is split in an ecstatic grin, and she waves like she's five until she's about two feet away from her sister.

[Boy] Were they going back to the Brotherhood? Marrick probably was. Scratch that, Marrick definitely was. Would they have to kidnap her? Move her in her sleep? That didn't sound like a very wise idea.

"That guy uh...Hm. I'll tell you later. We've gotta get together later though. I gotta tell you about..."

His eyes flick over to something in the distance. A blink later and he's looking in another direction. What was...what was that....

"Jesus, she's in trouble."

And he's taking firm steps away from the group, pushing past them.

[Alexander] Tonight. Alexander halts for a second, eyes Marrick for a moment to ascertain she meant what he thought she meant.

Then he flashes a cocksure smirk. "Yeah, maybe. We'll see."

He finishes strapping his gloves on and trots up the three or four stairs back into Tribull, his back faintly scored from leaning against the brick wall. "Nah," he calls over his shoulder at Sinclair, "Babydoll isn't my girlfriend anymore. I think I must've beat up another one of her models."

And then the door swings shut behind him.

[Sinclair] Liadan scurries away, Joey bounds up, Boy wanders off, Alex goes back inside, and Sinclair's eyes cross.

She shakes her head, looks at her sister. "Nobody, apparently, was out here to smoke weed. My brain is breaking because of it."

[Marcus Schwarzkopf] *Marcus was walking along one to the paths through the park heading in the direction of the group just standing out. He had his standard work clothes, olive drab t-shirt, bandanna, faded blue jeans, and tan combat boots.

He adjusted the Alice pack over this left shoulder setting it up higher then it was before to keep it from sliding off. He was dressed for summer in that he'd shaved off his beard, and cut his shoulder length hair to a very short length that he could still comb forward.

He looks around at his surroundings, taking in the park in the early evening as he continued down the path.*

[Alexander] (hey man, good to see you back, and as always glad to have you STing. for future ref though, i think it might be best if you asked people if they want to be STed for first, rather than simply announcing your intention to ST and telling them to speak up if they don't want to be. it's a subtle diff, but i think the players would appreciate it!)
to Wreck

[Joey] Joey's head cocks to the side. Her brows come down and her mouth quirks into a straight line, the closest she can come to actually frowning. “I'm so sorry for you, sis. You headed back to the room?” She looks thoughtful for a moment. “Did you ever make those pretty pretty talens?”

[Marrick] Boy was moving. Boy was moving so Marrick was moving. Joey got an upward nod, Sinclair got... well Sinclair got half a smirk and a roll of her eyes. Marrick was moving, though, because her brother was moving. And, well, something to that effect.

She followed. They were off. The Fury had a short attention span.

[Alexander] (home time, all! *jets*)