Flint Madden (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
flint_garou) wrote2012-03-11 12:10 pm
flint_garou) wrote2012-03-11 12:10 pm
Safety.
Of cellular sparrows and post-it notes.
11 March, 2012
The moon is in the waning Gibbous (Galliard) Moon phase (76% full).
It's not quite lunchtime yet, and Flint's been in the breakroom for a little while. Right now, the boy sits crosslegged on the table, facing the wall behind the computers, and the post-it notes. Of which there are now blue and green post-it notes as well as yellow ones. Flint's humming to himself as well, something likely recognisable as a Neil Young song, though he pauses every so often to stare at the wall in complete silence and scratch notes on the sketchbook in his lap.
"Post-it are thankin' you f' the two point rise 'n their share value," Nieve states as she drifts into the breakroom, eyeing the post-it mosaic with clear consideration, before approaching the Galliard. "I hear 'grats are in order."
Flint grins over at Nieve when she enters, then laughs, quietly. "Easier if I see parts of it on the wall itself, not just on paper," Flint explains, waving a hand in the direction of the area of wall above the computers.
"Fair 'nuff." One hand drops to rest briefly on the former-cub's shoulder. "So what're we callin' you now?" Nieve asks, before going off to get a chair, pulling it up beside the table he's sat on.
Flint sets the pencil down atop the sketchbook, sets the sketchbook aside a foot or two on the table, then shifts to dangle his legs over the edge. "Requiem," the boy states, giving the short version first. "'s Carves the Requiem for Cockroach's Children… but that's long and really, please." A grin follows the words.
"Long names 're long," Nieve agrees with a return grin, nodding to the newly minted cliath. "So, figured out what y'gonna do first, after this thing is complete?" she wonders, plopping herself down in the chair next to the table, digging out her pack of smokes and taking one out, then offering to the galliard before lighting hers.
Flint gives a nod. "Thanks," he says as he takes one of the cigarettes, slight amounts of teenaged clumsiness accentuating the motion of lighting it when he does. "And no, not really. I. I dunno, I want to learn some of the rites, and such," Flint continues. "Sera Follows-the-Tradewinds-rhya is teaching me Prayer for the Prey soon, and. Dunno if I. Have any other plans of what t' do. Of, what to do with myself."
"I'm happy t'teach you one or two, though I ain't got any in specific for your moon," Nieve muses. "Contrition an' Cleansin' are good for all Garou though." That sounds like some kind of offer, perhaps.
Another nod from Flint as the Theurge speaks. "I'd." Pause, and a very small smile. "I'd like that, when we got time." Head tilts to one side, and abruptly, the younger Glass Walker hops down and off the table, across the room, and moves one of the yellow post-it notes over next to another one, nodding to himself. The handwriting on the various post-its, except for the occasional claw glyph, is nearly unintelligible.
"Sure thing. So, what's this gonna be?" Nieve wonders, motioning at the post-its and then taking another pull from her smoke, exhaling thoughtfully.
Flint makes his way back onto the table, pausing to take the cigarette from gripped between his teeth to in his hands in order to climb back onto where he'd been sitting, cross-legged on the table once more before he moves to grab the sketchbook, turning a few pages and then setting it down where Nieve can see it, although it's set down rather than handed perhaps deliberately. "'s a memorial that," he says, using his free hand to point out the various aspects of the drawing. "Mostly wood, some reclaimed materials—I really. I need to go find the Groundskeeper soon—and. On the wall, and Ishmael-rhya is. Going to help me with a painting with it, too."
"Soundin' good," Nieve acknowledges, watching Flint make his adjustments, and not touching the sketchbook. As a crafter herself, she knows when not to touch. "S'gonna take long t'finish, y'think?"
From the door at the far end of the hallway, Kavi approaches. In his left hand, he carries the long, heavy case with his sarod. Instead of turning at the stairwell door, he continues on to the breakroom, where he stops in the doorway. "Hey," he offers to Flint, and then turns to Nieve with a slight furrow to his brow. "Kavi," he says of himself. "Bridge Builder. Adren galliard of the Glasswalkers, packed under Sphinx in Fidelity."
Another faint shrug, but whatever Flint was going to say is held, unsaid, when Kavi enters. The boy offers the older Galliard a slight grin in greeting, but there's a tiny furrow of brow as well. "Hi Kavi-rhya," he says, before pulling the ashtray from the middle of the table a little closer, tension riding slightly in the teen's shoulders. A furrow of brow as well. "Did you… I texted you, yesterday." Then Flint turns back to Nieve, "Not overlong, no. Takes more time to get materials, really."
"Pirate Trader, or Nieve Martinez," the Theurge offers for herself with a bright enough smile and finger-wiggle-wave for Kavi. "Adren Theurge for Cockroach, ain't currently packed." Flint gets a nod when he offers his reply, the Latina seeming thoughtful.
Kavi answers Nieve's smile with a small one of his own, but Flint's words catch his attention and he looks up to the boy on the table, at the same time, reaching for his phone. "I— No, I." He looks down at the object in his hand, and the furrow deepens. "No… It's not here." He turns his palm toward Flint, displaying the lack of texts currently in his inbox, and then looks at it himself, again, and pushes a couple buttons.
Flint pulls out his own phone from his pocket at this, flipping it open. "It says they sent," he voices, with a frown, before just opening the text message and offering his phone over to Kavi instead. "And they. I only texted you and I've texted you before without it. Doing anything." Another furrow of worry creases the boy's brow, and he puffs at the cigarette slowly.
The Theurge looks between Flint and Kavi, silent for now but looking mildly curious about their exchange.
Kavi looks at the phone again and then pockets it. "It— Maybe it'll turn up, later." He looks up to the theurge, and then from Nieve to Flint. "Was it— Do you want to tell me, now?"
Flint purses his lips, glances at Nieve, then nods. "I was. Rina took me over to the shooting range yesterday, and. When we left, some guy followed us out, and followed us. And he." Flint pauses, drawing in a deep breath and slowing the pace of his speaking down. "And he seemed very intent on. He wanted to talk to Rina and."
"Need me t'step out for five?" Nieve offers mildly, noting the halting nature of the conversation, as if things aren't being said naturally. "I'll go bug Mouse 'bout somethin' if y'wanna talk."
Kavi frowns as Flint speaks, but when Nieve offers to leave, he shakes his head. "No, I—" He glances back over his shoulder, and then looks back to the others. "She's sleeping, now. I. I'm supposed to meet Kay, but it shouldn't be long? Just… If she comes out? Can you…? Just make sure she's safe? And. And call me if something happens?"
Flint nods when Kavi's done speaking. "I, yeah. Okay. I." Pause, and a very faint grin offered to Nieve. "I will." Another pause, and Flint looks back over at Kavi, continuing for just a moment when he thinks of something. "Rina seemed. The guy said, she had guessed who he was, but she. She wouldn't tell me, and I'm. I'm out of guesses myself." Shoulders rise and fall in a shrug.
The Theurge seems confused, but stays put, since there wasn't a request for her to go. She finishes her smoke and lights another one, trying to put four and pi together, ending up with non-euclidean results.
Kavi swallows, and a breath is held for a moment after. "I… I'll be back as soon as I can," he says, and takes a backward step. Then, pausing, he adds for Nieve. "Rina is kin. She's—" He glances again over his shoulder, down the long hall. "I won't take long." The he turns the rest of the way, and heads down the stairs.
Flint turns as he's seated a bit, to watch Kavi go, before he turns back to Nieve, tapping his cigarette out in the ashtray. "It…" the boy pauses, musing half to himself. "Right, find the Groundskeeper tomorrow. This," and Flint looks at the Theurge in the moment of pause once more. "More important, anyway."
"…" is Nieve's initial reply. "M'sure I missed at least two things in all that," she observes, exhaling smoke. "S'everythin' alright? Bridge-Builder seemed worried. Texts get lost all th' time, cellular sparrows ain't always reliable-like."
Flint shakes his head. "I dunno," he admits, peering down at his lap. "And. That would be because, because Kavi-rhya is. He and Rina," Flint half-explains, looking back in the direction of the doorway to the breakroom. "And, I." A heave of a sigh follows, and silence, before Flint turns his attention to the wall of post-its again.
A journal tucked under one arm, a mechanical pencil tucked in her mouth, Riley wanders her way into the breakroom and makes a bee-line for the table with little regard for greetings of those within the room proper. She quickly marks something down with a series of scribbles and then flips it back closed. Both pencil and journal are jammed into her coat pocket, and she snags her phone, scooching out a chair and flopping into it as she busily forms a text message. She looks distracted.
"That don't explain anythin'," Nieve tells Flint directly. "How 'bout tryin' that again? Galliard's gotta give th' whole story, n' all." She finishes her second smoke, disposing of the butt as she did the first, pinching out the tip and dropping it back into the packet.
"Sorry Nieve-rhya," Flint murmurs, gaze flicking over to Riley and then back again to his lap, though there's a distinct fraction of his attention on the doorway to the breakroom, past the doorway to the breakroom in the direction of Kavi's apartment, for a long moment. "I." The boy purses his lips, "Sometimes it can… anyway. Rina is, she's Kavi-rhya's partner," the young Galliard says, "and. I don't know all of. Of why he's worried, but if he is, there's reason. And she, after last night she didn't quite. She didn't quite seem herself, so."
Riley eases her phone down onto the table and takes a long breath, leaning back and looking the slightest bit winded. From her largely upside-down orientation, she peers over toward Flint and Nieve, unabashedly listening in.
"Oh, okay." Nieve seems to accept Flint's second offering, nodding a little bit. Her gaze then wanders over to the chick who just entered; Riley gets a cheerful-enough finger-wiggle-wave in her drection.
Flint offers Riley a grin. "Hey Riley—" Flint says in greeting, though there's a distinct cut off at the end of the ragabash's name, accompanied by a faintly sheepish expression. "What's up?"
Riley curls herself back upright, the two chairlegs that had been airborn coming back down to earth with a slight clack. She gives a slow bob of her head, "'Ey. Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt, would've taken it on the roof if I knew you were bein' all serious-like." She twines her fingers briefly and cracks her knuckles, contemplatively replying, "Digesting, mostly. Why didn't people tell me we've got Ravens and Tigers in town? I only knew about the Fox."
"Val, Memory-of-the-Dead, Corax. Works for th' cops," Nieve offers mildly. "Karuvar, ain't got no idea what deed name he's goin' by these days. He's khan." For someone who's been in town less than a fortnight, she seems fairly well informed about it. "Kitsune? Ain't never met one—spill?"
"I think her name's Rajani?" Flint offers to Nieve, before letting Riley expound upon that, if the ragabash so chooses to. "If I remember right." A faint shrug follows, and then Flint hops down from the table and towards the kitchen, opening the fridge. "Pasta, fruit, bread, lunch meat, pizza, no, don't want pizza right now…" the boy mutters as he looks through. "Lasagna, there. Lunch."
Riley snaps her fingers at the mention of Rajani's name, as though it were on the tip of her tongue. "Yeah, there you have it. Rajani. Can't miss her, really. She's young and Indian, talks kinda like Mordin Solus?" She waves the necessity to understand her reference away with a hand, "Anyway, yeah. Just bumped into Val at the Glade, she had a lot of information. A crazy amount of information that I'd never even gotten wind of. So now I've got all sorts of visions of sugar plums and a menagerie of organless corpses dipped in plastic dancing about in my head." Her lips purse. "So I was thinking about submitting a job application!"
"Oh, the plasticorp stuff? Yeah, s'pretty intense," Nieve nods to the comment from Riley, then glances sidelong to Flint. "Can I talk y'into makin' me a coffee while y'at it?" she enquires hopefully.
Flint sets the already half-empty container of lasagna down on the counter to get out a plate for himself, and turns, nods to Nieve. "Sure. I was. I can do that." Another pause. "Riley, y' want coffee?" The boy doesn't precisely wait for an answer, setting about putting up the pot of coffee on the coffeemaker, and then serving himself a large helping of lasagna that gets set to warm in the microwave.
"Yeah, the PlastiCorp stuff. Isn't exactly sitting well with me to just spin my wheels when I hear about something like that. Not like typical wyrmy shit where you need to wait for 'em to pop up. The building's right there, I've got leads on the tainted, and a fairly good idea of the source of the corruption." Riley looks antsily down at her phone and groans, "And fuckin' of course, Mouse isn't texting me back."
"I know she wants it dealt with," Nieve acknowledges quietly. "It won't be spinnin' wheels f'long." She smiles gratefully at Flint, then settles back on her chair, idly toying with her lip-ring.
Riley frustratedly sinks down in her chair, looking momentarily like a teen that's having a temper tantrum before she manages to compose herself a little. A slightly pouting glance is sent Flint's way. "No, but could you throw me some oreos, or some… something chocolate? Chocolate sauce? Chocolate bar? Chocolate chocolate?" She grinds her teeth.
Flint sticks his plate in the microwave and then returns to the fridge, A long minute of poking through and muttering to himself later, Flint pulls out a chocolate bar that'd been stuck in there, and takes the few steps over to toss it to the table near Riley. "Chocolate it is," he proclaims, before settling to lean against the table, fingers tapping out time to something.
"When I was a cub," Nieve voices, sounding vaguely amused, "I swore off chocolate forever. Thought it'd poison me, like it does dogs. Man was I glad t'be wrong." A third cigarette is lit and enjoyed slowly.
Riley hardly even looks like she's enjoying the chocolate bar, really. She's scowling as she eats it, glowering at nothing in particular. Finally, her phone vibrates a few centimeters along the tabletop, and she leans forward to swiftly snatch it up, only to make a "GRARHJHGHGEJHGFIKJEHTG!" Noise and shove it deep into her pocket. She shoves herself out of her seat, and stalks over to the nearest computer terminal, flicking the monitor on and navigating to the Glass Walker e-mail system whilst cursing under her breath.
Flint watches Riley for a moment, but the coffee maker and the microwave both beep, giving the cliath cause to turn back to the kitchen. What had been tapping on the table turns into humming again as he portions coffee into mugs and brings them back to the table.
Riley flicks impatiently through her E-mail, scanning over the wide array of messages she's neglected to read in the past several days. She pauses in her haste of reading and deleting on one message, hesitating for a moment as she mumbles, "'Joy-Sings-At-Dawning'?" She doesn't delete that message, but moves on to one marked as being from Mouse, and gives a grim nod of her head, composing a quick one-word E-mail back and then leaving the E-mail up on the screen, scanning over what seems to be a wealth of PlastiCorp information. She takes a quiet nibble from her chocolate bar, absently rubbing the heel of her palm against her abdomen.
"That's th' spirit I secured f'healin'," Nieve tells Riley mildly. "Out 'n Harbour Park glade." She smiles at Flint again, taking up the coffee and immediately sipping, apparently immune to heat.
Flint sets his own mug of coffee down too, before getting his plate of food and such. This time, at least, Flint actually sits, mostly properly, on a chair, pulling his sketchbook over and turning it to a new page as he shoves several large bites of food into his mouth.
Riley sets the document to print, and flips back to the prior E-mail right about the time Nieve mentions it. She looks up, then glances back at the date, frowning. "…I, uh, miss the boat on that one?" Her voice gets a little quiet.
"I'unno," Nieve replies simply. "I said one day, to th' spirit. I can strike 'nother deal if you're int'rested still," she offers. "But y'gotta be punctual. Spirits ain't all in th' habit of waitin' on us."
Flint looks up a moment from his plate of food, and then looks at Nieve. "I uh. I need to go down to the workshop for a little," the boy says. "Could you maybe, just keep an eye out?" A jerk of the galliard's head in the direction of 'down the hall' again. "My phone's on and. I'm just going to be downstairs, but. I don't…" There's a clear reluctance at the moment to go without clearing this up. "Because."
Riley gives a quiet little nod of her head in response to Nieve's question. It's clear she doesn't quite have the fortitude to make a glib remark about this particular topic. "…If you don't mind. Sorry, I'm pretty shit about checking my mail. It's usually not so, uh, urgent."
"An eye out for?" Nieve prompts Flint, apparently quite bad at reading minds or between lines. She then rolls one shoulder in a shrug at Riley. "Get better," she suggests—and it's not an order, spoken softer than that. "Next time it might be life an' death instead of gonads."
Flint purses his lips even as he gets cup of coffee and plate of food both carefully grasped so as to not spill. "Rina," Flint murmurs. "Just, if you see her up'n about. She'd. Have to pass the breakroom to get downstairs, anyway. And I, so."
Riley is quick to give a shake of her head. "I've always got the phone on me, I really should just… You know, fuck it. Doing it now." She pops open the interface for forwarding in the E-mail client, and in the work of a minute or so, she's got it wired to mirror her messages onto her phone. "Don't know why I didn't do that when I first got back," she mutters, and goes to retrieve the printed document from the printer, affixing it with staples and turning back towards Nieve. She rips a piece of blank paper off of the end and scribbles ten digits down that are clearly a phone number. "…I'm going to go read this for awhile, if you have any news, call me. Or E-mail me, I guess. That should work now, too."
"…okay." That is apparently for both Cliath and Fostern, and Nieve nods once, before returning her attention to her coffee. "I'll be here an hour or so if either've you need me, or feel like talkin'."
"Thanks Nieve-rhya," Flint says, offering the Adren a grin and then disappearing out the breakroom door.
11 March, 2012
The moon is in the waning Gibbous (Galliard) Moon phase (76% full).
It's not quite lunchtime yet, and Flint's been in the breakroom for a little while. Right now, the boy sits crosslegged on the table, facing the wall behind the computers, and the post-it notes. Of which there are now blue and green post-it notes as well as yellow ones. Flint's humming to himself as well, something likely recognisable as a Neil Young song, though he pauses every so often to stare at the wall in complete silence and scratch notes on the sketchbook in his lap.
"Post-it are thankin' you f' the two point rise 'n their share value," Nieve states as she drifts into the breakroom, eyeing the post-it mosaic with clear consideration, before approaching the Galliard. "I hear 'grats are in order."
Flint grins over at Nieve when she enters, then laughs, quietly. "Easier if I see parts of it on the wall itself, not just on paper," Flint explains, waving a hand in the direction of the area of wall above the computers.
"Fair 'nuff." One hand drops to rest briefly on the former-cub's shoulder. "So what're we callin' you now?" Nieve asks, before going off to get a chair, pulling it up beside the table he's sat on.
Flint sets the pencil down atop the sketchbook, sets the sketchbook aside a foot or two on the table, then shifts to dangle his legs over the edge. "Requiem," the boy states, giving the short version first. "'s Carves the Requiem for Cockroach's Children… but that's long and really, please." A grin follows the words.
"Long names 're long," Nieve agrees with a return grin, nodding to the newly minted cliath. "So, figured out what y'gonna do first, after this thing is complete?" she wonders, plopping herself down in the chair next to the table, digging out her pack of smokes and taking one out, then offering to the galliard before lighting hers.
Flint gives a nod. "Thanks," he says as he takes one of the cigarettes, slight amounts of teenaged clumsiness accentuating the motion of lighting it when he does. "And no, not really. I. I dunno, I want to learn some of the rites, and such," Flint continues. "Sera Follows-the-Tradewinds-rhya is teaching me Prayer for the Prey soon, and. Dunno if I. Have any other plans of what t' do. Of, what to do with myself."
"I'm happy t'teach you one or two, though I ain't got any in specific for your moon," Nieve muses. "Contrition an' Cleansin' are good for all Garou though." That sounds like some kind of offer, perhaps.
Another nod from Flint as the Theurge speaks. "I'd." Pause, and a very small smile. "I'd like that, when we got time." Head tilts to one side, and abruptly, the younger Glass Walker hops down and off the table, across the room, and moves one of the yellow post-it notes over next to another one, nodding to himself. The handwriting on the various post-its, except for the occasional claw glyph, is nearly unintelligible.
"Sure thing. So, what's this gonna be?" Nieve wonders, motioning at the post-its and then taking another pull from her smoke, exhaling thoughtfully.
Flint makes his way back onto the table, pausing to take the cigarette from gripped between his teeth to in his hands in order to climb back onto where he'd been sitting, cross-legged on the table once more before he moves to grab the sketchbook, turning a few pages and then setting it down where Nieve can see it, although it's set down rather than handed perhaps deliberately. "'s a memorial that," he says, using his free hand to point out the various aspects of the drawing. "Mostly wood, some reclaimed materials—I really. I need to go find the Groundskeeper soon—and. On the wall, and Ishmael-rhya is. Going to help me with a painting with it, too."
"Soundin' good," Nieve acknowledges, watching Flint make his adjustments, and not touching the sketchbook. As a crafter herself, she knows when not to touch. "S'gonna take long t'finish, y'think?"
From the door at the far end of the hallway, Kavi approaches. In his left hand, he carries the long, heavy case with his sarod. Instead of turning at the stairwell door, he continues on to the breakroom, where he stops in the doorway. "Hey," he offers to Flint, and then turns to Nieve with a slight furrow to his brow. "Kavi," he says of himself. "Bridge Builder. Adren galliard of the Glasswalkers, packed under Sphinx in Fidelity."
Another faint shrug, but whatever Flint was going to say is held, unsaid, when Kavi enters. The boy offers the older Galliard a slight grin in greeting, but there's a tiny furrow of brow as well. "Hi Kavi-rhya," he says, before pulling the ashtray from the middle of the table a little closer, tension riding slightly in the teen's shoulders. A furrow of brow as well. "Did you… I texted you, yesterday." Then Flint turns back to Nieve, "Not overlong, no. Takes more time to get materials, really."
"Pirate Trader, or Nieve Martinez," the Theurge offers for herself with a bright enough smile and finger-wiggle-wave for Kavi. "Adren Theurge for Cockroach, ain't currently packed." Flint gets a nod when he offers his reply, the Latina seeming thoughtful.
Kavi answers Nieve's smile with a small one of his own, but Flint's words catch his attention and he looks up to the boy on the table, at the same time, reaching for his phone. "I— No, I." He looks down at the object in his hand, and the furrow deepens. "No… It's not here." He turns his palm toward Flint, displaying the lack of texts currently in his inbox, and then looks at it himself, again, and pushes a couple buttons.
Flint pulls out his own phone from his pocket at this, flipping it open. "It says they sent," he voices, with a frown, before just opening the text message and offering his phone over to Kavi instead. "And they. I only texted you and I've texted you before without it. Doing anything." Another furrow of worry creases the boy's brow, and he puffs at the cigarette slowly.
The Theurge looks between Flint and Kavi, silent for now but looking mildly curious about their exchange.
Kavi looks at the phone again and then pockets it. "It— Maybe it'll turn up, later." He looks up to the theurge, and then from Nieve to Flint. "Was it— Do you want to tell me, now?"
Flint purses his lips, glances at Nieve, then nods. "I was. Rina took me over to the shooting range yesterday, and. When we left, some guy followed us out, and followed us. And he." Flint pauses, drawing in a deep breath and slowing the pace of his speaking down. "And he seemed very intent on. He wanted to talk to Rina and."
"Need me t'step out for five?" Nieve offers mildly, noting the halting nature of the conversation, as if things aren't being said naturally. "I'll go bug Mouse 'bout somethin' if y'wanna talk."
Kavi frowns as Flint speaks, but when Nieve offers to leave, he shakes his head. "No, I—" He glances back over his shoulder, and then looks back to the others. "She's sleeping, now. I. I'm supposed to meet Kay, but it shouldn't be long? Just… If she comes out? Can you…? Just make sure she's safe? And. And call me if something happens?"
Flint nods when Kavi's done speaking. "I, yeah. Okay. I." Pause, and a very faint grin offered to Nieve. "I will." Another pause, and Flint looks back over at Kavi, continuing for just a moment when he thinks of something. "Rina seemed. The guy said, she had guessed who he was, but she. She wouldn't tell me, and I'm. I'm out of guesses myself." Shoulders rise and fall in a shrug.
The Theurge seems confused, but stays put, since there wasn't a request for her to go. She finishes her smoke and lights another one, trying to put four and pi together, ending up with non-euclidean results.
Kavi swallows, and a breath is held for a moment after. "I… I'll be back as soon as I can," he says, and takes a backward step. Then, pausing, he adds for Nieve. "Rina is kin. She's—" He glances again over his shoulder, down the long hall. "I won't take long." The he turns the rest of the way, and heads down the stairs.
Flint turns as he's seated a bit, to watch Kavi go, before he turns back to Nieve, tapping his cigarette out in the ashtray. "It…" the boy pauses, musing half to himself. "Right, find the Groundskeeper tomorrow. This," and Flint looks at the Theurge in the moment of pause once more. "More important, anyway."
"…" is Nieve's initial reply. "M'sure I missed at least two things in all that," she observes, exhaling smoke. "S'everythin' alright? Bridge-Builder seemed worried. Texts get lost all th' time, cellular sparrows ain't always reliable-like."
Flint shakes his head. "I dunno," he admits, peering down at his lap. "And. That would be because, because Kavi-rhya is. He and Rina," Flint half-explains, looking back in the direction of the doorway to the breakroom. "And, I." A heave of a sigh follows, and silence, before Flint turns his attention to the wall of post-its again.
A journal tucked under one arm, a mechanical pencil tucked in her mouth, Riley wanders her way into the breakroom and makes a bee-line for the table with little regard for greetings of those within the room proper. She quickly marks something down with a series of scribbles and then flips it back closed. Both pencil and journal are jammed into her coat pocket, and she snags her phone, scooching out a chair and flopping into it as she busily forms a text message. She looks distracted.
"That don't explain anythin'," Nieve tells Flint directly. "How 'bout tryin' that again? Galliard's gotta give th' whole story, n' all." She finishes her second smoke, disposing of the butt as she did the first, pinching out the tip and dropping it back into the packet.
"Sorry Nieve-rhya," Flint murmurs, gaze flicking over to Riley and then back again to his lap, though there's a distinct fraction of his attention on the doorway to the breakroom, past the doorway to the breakroom in the direction of Kavi's apartment, for a long moment. "I." The boy purses his lips, "Sometimes it can… anyway. Rina is, she's Kavi-rhya's partner," the young Galliard says, "and. I don't know all of. Of why he's worried, but if he is, there's reason. And she, after last night she didn't quite. She didn't quite seem herself, so."
Riley eases her phone down onto the table and takes a long breath, leaning back and looking the slightest bit winded. From her largely upside-down orientation, she peers over toward Flint and Nieve, unabashedly listening in.
"Oh, okay." Nieve seems to accept Flint's second offering, nodding a little bit. Her gaze then wanders over to the chick who just entered; Riley gets a cheerful-enough finger-wiggle-wave in her drection.
Flint offers Riley a grin. "Hey Riley—" Flint says in greeting, though there's a distinct cut off at the end of the ragabash's name, accompanied by a faintly sheepish expression. "What's up?"
Riley curls herself back upright, the two chairlegs that had been airborn coming back down to earth with a slight clack. She gives a slow bob of her head, "'Ey. Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt, would've taken it on the roof if I knew you were bein' all serious-like." She twines her fingers briefly and cracks her knuckles, contemplatively replying, "Digesting, mostly. Why didn't people tell me we've got Ravens and Tigers in town? I only knew about the Fox."
"Val, Memory-of-the-Dead, Corax. Works for th' cops," Nieve offers mildly. "Karuvar, ain't got no idea what deed name he's goin' by these days. He's khan." For someone who's been in town less than a fortnight, she seems fairly well informed about it. "Kitsune? Ain't never met one—spill?"
"I think her name's Rajani?" Flint offers to Nieve, before letting Riley expound upon that, if the ragabash so chooses to. "If I remember right." A faint shrug follows, and then Flint hops down from the table and towards the kitchen, opening the fridge. "Pasta, fruit, bread, lunch meat, pizza, no, don't want pizza right now…" the boy mutters as he looks through. "Lasagna, there. Lunch."
Riley snaps her fingers at the mention of Rajani's name, as though it were on the tip of her tongue. "Yeah, there you have it. Rajani. Can't miss her, really. She's young and Indian, talks kinda like Mordin Solus?" She waves the necessity to understand her reference away with a hand, "Anyway, yeah. Just bumped into Val at the Glade, she had a lot of information. A crazy amount of information that I'd never even gotten wind of. So now I've got all sorts of visions of sugar plums and a menagerie of organless corpses dipped in plastic dancing about in my head." Her lips purse. "So I was thinking about submitting a job application!"
"Oh, the plasticorp stuff? Yeah, s'pretty intense," Nieve nods to the comment from Riley, then glances sidelong to Flint. "Can I talk y'into makin' me a coffee while y'at it?" she enquires hopefully.
Flint sets the already half-empty container of lasagna down on the counter to get out a plate for himself, and turns, nods to Nieve. "Sure. I was. I can do that." Another pause. "Riley, y' want coffee?" The boy doesn't precisely wait for an answer, setting about putting up the pot of coffee on the coffeemaker, and then serving himself a large helping of lasagna that gets set to warm in the microwave.
"Yeah, the PlastiCorp stuff. Isn't exactly sitting well with me to just spin my wheels when I hear about something like that. Not like typical wyrmy shit where you need to wait for 'em to pop up. The building's right there, I've got leads on the tainted, and a fairly good idea of the source of the corruption." Riley looks antsily down at her phone and groans, "And fuckin' of course, Mouse isn't texting me back."
"I know she wants it dealt with," Nieve acknowledges quietly. "It won't be spinnin' wheels f'long." She smiles gratefully at Flint, then settles back on her chair, idly toying with her lip-ring.
Riley frustratedly sinks down in her chair, looking momentarily like a teen that's having a temper tantrum before she manages to compose herself a little. A slightly pouting glance is sent Flint's way. "No, but could you throw me some oreos, or some… something chocolate? Chocolate sauce? Chocolate bar? Chocolate chocolate?" She grinds her teeth.
Flint sticks his plate in the microwave and then returns to the fridge, A long minute of poking through and muttering to himself later, Flint pulls out a chocolate bar that'd been stuck in there, and takes the few steps over to toss it to the table near Riley. "Chocolate it is," he proclaims, before settling to lean against the table, fingers tapping out time to something.
"When I was a cub," Nieve voices, sounding vaguely amused, "I swore off chocolate forever. Thought it'd poison me, like it does dogs. Man was I glad t'be wrong." A third cigarette is lit and enjoyed slowly.
Riley hardly even looks like she's enjoying the chocolate bar, really. She's scowling as she eats it, glowering at nothing in particular. Finally, her phone vibrates a few centimeters along the tabletop, and she leans forward to swiftly snatch it up, only to make a "GRARHJHGHGEJHGFIKJEHTG!" Noise and shove it deep into her pocket. She shoves herself out of her seat, and stalks over to the nearest computer terminal, flicking the monitor on and navigating to the Glass Walker e-mail system whilst cursing under her breath.
Flint watches Riley for a moment, but the coffee maker and the microwave both beep, giving the cliath cause to turn back to the kitchen. What had been tapping on the table turns into humming again as he portions coffee into mugs and brings them back to the table.
Riley flicks impatiently through her E-mail, scanning over the wide array of messages she's neglected to read in the past several days. She pauses in her haste of reading and deleting on one message, hesitating for a moment as she mumbles, "'Joy-Sings-At-Dawning'?" She doesn't delete that message, but moves on to one marked as being from Mouse, and gives a grim nod of her head, composing a quick one-word E-mail back and then leaving the E-mail up on the screen, scanning over what seems to be a wealth of PlastiCorp information. She takes a quiet nibble from her chocolate bar, absently rubbing the heel of her palm against her abdomen.
"That's th' spirit I secured f'healin'," Nieve tells Riley mildly. "Out 'n Harbour Park glade." She smiles at Flint again, taking up the coffee and immediately sipping, apparently immune to heat.
Flint sets his own mug of coffee down too, before getting his plate of food and such. This time, at least, Flint actually sits, mostly properly, on a chair, pulling his sketchbook over and turning it to a new page as he shoves several large bites of food into his mouth.
Riley sets the document to print, and flips back to the prior E-mail right about the time Nieve mentions it. She looks up, then glances back at the date, frowning. "…I, uh, miss the boat on that one?" Her voice gets a little quiet.
"I'unno," Nieve replies simply. "I said one day, to th' spirit. I can strike 'nother deal if you're int'rested still," she offers. "But y'gotta be punctual. Spirits ain't all in th' habit of waitin' on us."
Flint looks up a moment from his plate of food, and then looks at Nieve. "I uh. I need to go down to the workshop for a little," the boy says. "Could you maybe, just keep an eye out?" A jerk of the galliard's head in the direction of 'down the hall' again. "My phone's on and. I'm just going to be downstairs, but. I don't…" There's a clear reluctance at the moment to go without clearing this up. "Because."
Riley gives a quiet little nod of her head in response to Nieve's question. It's clear she doesn't quite have the fortitude to make a glib remark about this particular topic. "…If you don't mind. Sorry, I'm pretty shit about checking my mail. It's usually not so, uh, urgent."
"An eye out for?" Nieve prompts Flint, apparently quite bad at reading minds or between lines. She then rolls one shoulder in a shrug at Riley. "Get better," she suggests—and it's not an order, spoken softer than that. "Next time it might be life an' death instead of gonads."
Flint purses his lips even as he gets cup of coffee and plate of food both carefully grasped so as to not spill. "Rina," Flint murmurs. "Just, if you see her up'n about. She'd. Have to pass the breakroom to get downstairs, anyway. And I, so."
Riley is quick to give a shake of her head. "I've always got the phone on me, I really should just… You know, fuck it. Doing it now." She pops open the interface for forwarding in the E-mail client, and in the work of a minute or so, she's got it wired to mirror her messages onto her phone. "Don't know why I didn't do that when I first got back," she mutters, and goes to retrieve the printed document from the printer, affixing it with staples and turning back towards Nieve. She rips a piece of blank paper off of the end and scribbles ten digits down that are clearly a phone number. "…I'm going to go read this for awhile, if you have any news, call me. Or E-mail me, I guess. That should work now, too."
"…okay." That is apparently for both Cliath and Fostern, and Nieve nods once, before returning her attention to her coffee. "I'll be here an hour or so if either've you need me, or feel like talkin'."
"Thanks Nieve-rhya," Flint says, offering the Adren a grin and then disappearing out the breakroom door.