Flint Madden (
flint_garou) wrote2012-03-20 05:00 pm
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Entry tags:
This sucks. Lots of things suck.
Of challenges and mediation and maybe not drinking alone.
20 March, 2012
The moon is in the waning New (Ragabash) Moon phase (14% full).
The computers have been moved a good two and a half feet away from the wall, but that hasn't stopped them from being used. Right now, though, Flint's taking a break from whatever research is open on the computer screen, and rummaging through the refrigerator, looking for something.
Cheese Doodle ambles into the Break room, in hispo. The philodox looks like shit, with some bite wounds on her left side that have gone swollen. Still, if anyone's seen her laying around in hispo the last few days, she look far better. The hispo sniffs her way along, limping a bit as she seeks out food.
Cheese Doodle's also wearing a funny little metal backpack—a disk with a bulldozer painted on it.
Flint is monopolising the refrigerator, but the teenager pauses at the sound, turning around, and blinks a moment. For himself, he's come out with a container of lasagna, grasped in one hand. "Hey Doodle-rhya," Flint offers quietly, looking at the hispo and thinking, silence stretching out for a little. "I. There's some hotdogs, or sandwiches. And pasta?"
Cheese Doodle offers a weakly greeting to Flint, more out of formality than not, as she tries to poke her head around the other. She probably judges Flint aside as she does, being hispo sized and all, but a girl's got to eat. The lupus grabs the first thing that she sees with her teeth. ~I got a headache, so talk slow.~ She says, after setting down the tupperware somewhere on the floor.
Meandering on into the breakroom is a Nieve, her scent probably familiar enough to Doodle by now given she's been living in the Tenement for a few weeks. She's yawning and eye-rubbing, apparently only just out of bed, and has a certain languor about her that suggests she's not necessarily fully awake yet either. "Flint, s'there any pizza'n the fridge?" she wonders through a yawn, then her attention falls on the hispo. "Hola."
Flint catches himself on the counter and sets the container of lasagna that he'd claimed aside. "I yeah, I think so," he offers to Nieve, and then he nods to Cheese Doodle, making a small effort to both talk slow and not have the extra repetitions of words, even as he gets out of the way of the refrigerator and starts making himself a plate. "Alright. You want something to drink, Doodle-rhya?" If there's any grudge from the time that she'd given him shooting lessons, it's long forgotten by the teenager at least.
Flint's question is lost on the Philodox, who likewise looks back at the newcomer theurge, peering a bit at the unfamiliar face. A sniff or two later causes her to relax somewhat, but there's still an air of tension about her. She plods forward, sniffing at the Theurge more closely. Unless Nieve stops her, the massive hispo will do the usual wolf-meet and greet motions, including all those nice and personal spots.
By now, Nieve is more than used to how wolves greet. She holds still for Doodle to get personal, brow raising a little bit but no outward commentary; nor does her body-language indicate embaressment or offense. "Y'could just ask, y'know," she tells Doodle, tone mild. "M'name is Nieve, or Pirate Trader. Adren Theurge." It seems pointless to state tribe since she's up here and all. "Can y'throw it in the microwave for me, Flint?" she asks then, as she's barred from the kitchen by a bulky hispo just now.
Flint finishes putting his own food in the microwave. "Sure," he responds, moving back over to the fridge to pull out the box of pizza and set it on the counter. Some's set on a plate to go in the microwave, but one piece is picked up and Flint just starts eating it. Cold pizza, yum.
Cheese Doodle takes longer than she normally does, moving slowly due to her injuries, and looking confused throughout. Eventually she backs off, giving the Adren some space; her expression is vexed, like something is amiss. ~Um, yes! Okay.~ She replies, before glancing back to the tupperware of… whatever she pulled out. ~Sorry, hi.~
"Are y'in need of healin'?" Nieve asks politely of Doodle, demeanour shifting from sleepy and relaxed to mildly impatient, though mildly really does mean mildly. "Gracias, Flint," she adds for the cliath as he gets around to nuking her food.
Even with his plate of lasagna heated, and Nieve's plate of pizza set on the table, Flint busies himself with a second piece of cold pizza while putting the rest back in the fridge.
~Heal? Um.~ Cheese Doodle has to think about that far longer than it should really take. Again, there's confusion. ~Oh. No, it's poison. Already was healed. Need to wait it out.~ She says, tossing her head a bit. Oh! Hi. I'm Cheese Doodle Burns Chrome. I'm a fostern philodox, she tells the other, like she's just remembering things. I haven't met you.
The smell of food cooking is more than enough to drag in Riley. She pops her head into the breakroom, sniffing and then narrowing her eyes on the plate of lasagna. She fluidly strides into the room, foregoing greetings in order to loom behind Flint with her head angled severely to the side, Sadako-esque. When he turns about he'll find a hungry ragabash creepily peering down at him.
"You're the lupus," Nieve identifies, impatience melting into utter curiosity, her attention fixed on the injured hispo for a long moment. "I've been hopin' to meet you. Hi." There's even a smile for Doodle, before the Theurge moves away in the direction of her food.
Flint focuses on the second slice of cold pizza for a moment, gaze on his feet, before the galliard turns to move for his plate of food. And startles to see Riley. The half slice of pizza is dropped to the floor before Flint manages to un-startle. "H…hi, Riley," the teenager says, blinking a few times.
~Hi!~ The hispo repeats, batting her ears back for a moment. She still looks confused. She turns her head back to glance at the tupperware she set on the ground. And when Nieve goes to grab her food, Doodle takes that as an excuse to nab her own dinner and squirrel it away in a corner. Gingerly plucking the lid off, the hispo doesn't even look at what she's eating before she wolfs it down. It's left over chicken salad.
Riley flashes her teeth in a savage little grin, "Five second rule!" She dips, snagging the piece of downed pizza, and victoriously makes her way to the couch, flopping down where there's room. Her primary objective met, she glances from Doodle to Nieve whilst chewing on her ill-gotten slice of pizza. Doodle is stopped upon again, and she frowns. "Doods, you drinking enough? You look off."
Pizza, it is nommed by many. "Riley, we need t'talk about your condition," Nieve tells the no-moon mildly, once she's munched her way through the first slice and kicked back somewhat. "Tell me what happened with th' dove."
Flint watches Riley a moment. "There's more pizza," the galliard states. Oh well. "Doodle-rhya, you want any of the pizza?"
Mood-kill. Riley's expression deadens, and she tears off a large piece of cold pizza, occupying herself with chewing the fuck out of it to avoid answering in any sort of timely fashion. Naturally, she chews slowly, and thoroughly. An answer is not immediately forthcoming.
Cheese Doodle slowly looks up and over to Riley, and wrinkles her nose. Drink? No, no beer. I have a headache. Licking the chicken salad off her face, she fails to be enticed by the pizza—god, she must be serious about that headache! ~Stupid poison.~ She adds, grouchily.
"Riley." Nieve regards the no-moon steadily, waiting for an answer. Though, she does nom some more of her own pizza while she waits, lest the time be wasted.
Riley finally, finally swallows. "She apologized." That seems to be the only answer Riley feels like giving. She sets the pizza unsanitarily on the arm of the couch to lurch up and stride over to the kitchen again. A massive and tacky plastic novelty cup (clearly from 7-11) is dragged down and filled to the brim with water. The ragabash approaches Cheese Doodle and murmurs, "Hey. Doods. Take Homid or Glabro and drink this. All of it. It'll help." Her words are intentionally short and clipped.
Flint leans back on the counter with his plate of lasagna. There's a small amount of humming that comes in between bites of eating, but for the most part, Flint's keeping quiet. Though Doodle ignoring the offer of pizza does get a concerned look.
Cheese Doodle knows what to do with the water, even if her English kinda sucks today (more than normal). Up to glabro, the teen takes the cup and chugs the water. When she's done, she brings the empty tupperware and cup back to the sink. ~So, um. Who are you?~ She asks Nieve.
Likewise taking Glabro form, since Doodle seems to prefer MT, Nieve points out, ~I've already introduced myself once. Nieve, Pirate Trader, Adren Theurge.~ Then she cocks her head slightly at Riley. ~Give me the whole story, please. I didn't bargain a month of my time away to the dove to get two-word answers from those she tried to heal about why it didn't work,~ she then tells the no-moon. ~As much detail as you can, so I've an idea about what to try next.~
Some of the bristle goes out of Riley as she watches Clarice swig down the big-gulp of water, expression revealing equal parts concern and awe at the rate the girl packs away the beverage. "Well, I'm impressed." With a little puff of breath, the ragabash slinks back to the couch just in time to get an earful in mother's tongue. She pauses, slice of pizza in hand, and slowly sits up. Her cheeks burn perceptibly under the Adren's reprimand. "…Yeah. Sorry. Um…" She nibbles the edge of the slice of pizza and mumbles, "She tried a bunch of times to cleanse me, but none of it took. There's… not much to say. She tried four times, each time for a longer time than the last, but… not so much."
Flint eventually takes his plate of food to the table, sitting down and turning the chair to stare at the computer. "Hm," Flint muses, but it doesn't seem to be directed at anyone. Nor does it take long for Flint to finish the lasagna, at which point he glances at Doodle, and also matches the shift up to Glabro, a faint nervous expression on the cliath's face.
~Oh, sorry.~ Clarice says to Nieve, looking slightly embarrassed. She hunches her shoulders, and starts to turn away, when she hears the talk between Nieve and Riley. If her ears could perk up, that'd do it; the lupus turns and watches the conversation, closely.
The Theurge cocks her head slightly at Riley, then rises to her feet. ~Come with, please. This won't take long.~ She beckons at the Fostern, and then turns to head out of the breakroom, with two slices of pizza in hand—could get hungry en-route to wherever, after all.
It's difficult to miss the frown on Riley's features, but she sulkily collects herself and gnaws at the rest of her pizza on her way after Nieve.
Clarice, though unbidden, follows after Riley, the Philodox rather curious about whatever Nieve's talking about with her friend. She still looks like she has a headache, but there's also pointed interest.
Flint looks at the Philodox, and shuffles his feet in place. ~Cheese Doodle-rhya?~ Flint calls out. His Mother's Tongue is just as much with the hesitation as his English, and there's a distinct feel that it's awkward, but he's trying. ~Um. Could I. Talk to you about some stuff, when you. Don't have a headache?~
~Would you mind waiting here please, Cheese Doodle Burns Chrome?~ Nieve asks the lupus politely. ~I need to ask Riley some personal questions she may not wish overheard. We will return soon.~ Well, it's asked nicely, at least. To Riley, the Adren motions to precede her out into the corridor.
Riley doesn't seem entirely thrilled by the prospect of what Nieve is detailing, but casts a reassuring nod over to Cheese Doodle, half-hearted grin and all. "Don't worry, be right back. Still hungry."
Clarice gives a helpless gesture towards Riley, before nodding repeatedly. There's something about that gesture that just seems… off. "Hokaay." She agrees in English, before glancing back to Flint. ~Huh?~ She asks, tilting her head.
Flint moves to sit down on the floor near the couch. ~Well. Um. One, I'm sorry, back when. The shooting lesson and I ran out and all.~ That's seems to be the first order of business, as the cliath glances up at the Philodox, then waits. Really, quite nervously, and he doesn't seem to like glabro too much either.
Clarice strains for a moment, thinking hard about something. It takes her a bit to get there. ~Oh, right, don't worry about it.~ She says, waving dismissively. She rubs her head some, before leaning against the wall. ~Like, we're all moody and stupid as cubs. I think.~
Flint seems to relax a little. ~Thanks. I. The other thing is about Devon. Kavi-rhya said, that to talk to you at some point, because. Devon and I keep ending up in fights, and.~ Absentmindedly as he talks, Flint trails a finger down from his ribcage, kind of fidgeting. ~And I don't like it, and I don't know what to do.~
Clarice slumps against the wall, slightly, the metal backpack thingy clunking against it. Though she looks headache, she tries to focus for a moment. ~What are you fighting about, usually?~
~Stupid things,~ Flint responds. ~Mostly. Or. The last time, Devon was giving me a hard time about. Talking, and my auspice, and everything. And the post-it notes. He called them dumb, and, they. They weren't. And that's hard for me, and I'm working on it, but then he threw food at me and I threw food at him and we fought anyway.~ The galliard sighs, quietly.
Clarice waits a long moment after the galliard sighs before she furrows her brow and nods a bit. ~I've got a bad headache from being bitten by a giant poisoned bane…~ She says, like it's a normal condition to have. ~But… I can talk to you two later, when I can focus more. That okay?~
Flint winces a little at 'giant poisoned bane', and nods in response. ~When you don't have a headache, yeah.~ There's a faint, tentative smile as Flint rolls his shoulders once. ~There's some more pizza, if you want? And, thank you, Cheese Doodle-rhya. I. I appreciate it.~
Clarice shakes her head `no` repeatedly. ~Not hungry, really. Queasy, mostly.~ She gives a helpless shrug, in a very homid style, pursing her lips for a moment. ~Don't get bitten by poison things. It's good advice. I think.~
~And don't bite them, either,~ Flint adds, with a grimace. ~I. Bit a skull pig.~ He seems to be over it now, though, but it isn't a pleasant memory. ~It got my arm and I frenzied on it and forgot all about that. That Owen-rhya said not to bite them.~
~Why not? Are they poisonous too?~ Doodle asks, cocking her head to one side.
Flint nods. ~Apparently! It burned my mouth and all,~ the galliard states with a note of distaste. ~Not to mention, ick. At least I know not to bite one in the future.~
Clarice almost seems to go 'oh', though more in posture than in actual vocalizations. She furrows her brow, thinking for a bit. ~Don't think I've seen a skullpig before. What's one like?~
Flint hmmms a bit and grins over at the Philodox. ~Well. Kinda like a pig, except. The adult ones were. They were pretty big, like the size of a … pony? And their heads looked like. If they were made of bone, barely had any skin on them. I was out with Alexandra and Nik and we were going to. We were going to hunt for lunch but we found skull pigs instead. And the boar? Had tusks, and it kind of gored Alexandra. The not-adult ones were the size of, a dog or so?~ This is offered carefully, Flint occasionally hunting for words in the Mother's Tongue, but he seems happy enough to tell her about them. ~It was out near Edgewood, but not on the Bawn.~
Making her way back down into the breakroom, Riley doesn't appear to be in significantly improved spirits. To the contrary, her playful mood has curdled into something decidedly more somber and angry. She strides over to the fridge, but pulls open the freezer instead. A bottle of tequila is withdrawn and slammed down on the countertop. She stands on her toes to reach one of the higher cupboard shelves, scooping down a few shotglasses and lining them up. The tequila is given a sloppy slosh over all three, leaving a significant amount spilling onto the countertop. They're thrown back in succession. One, slam. Two, slam. Three, slam. Only then does she turn to the fridge and haul out an extra-large slice of pizza, which she starts to spitefully chew.
Clarice is about to say something to Flint, when the return of Riley catches her attention. She watches the Ragabash go about her way, and when she slams down three shots, Clarice is all ears. ~Uh, something wrong?~
Flint looks over at Riley, but Clarice manages to ask first, and so, where he's sitting on the floor next to the couch, the cliath just pulls his knees up to his chest, brows furrowing at the ragabash.
Riley slides up onto the countertop, a hand shoving away the bottle and the shotglasses, her butt carefully avoiding the spillover from the bad pouring job. Clarice is sent a shake of her head, and a simple and unconvincing, "No. Hungry, thirsty."
Clarice bites down on her lip and nods a bit, about as equally unconvincing. She hesitates a few moments, before shifting back to hispo. Shaking herself off, the lupus starts to plod back to wherever the hell she's been napping.
~Seeya, Doodle-rhya,~ Flint offers, shifting back down to homid as the philodox goes off. The furrow of brow doesn't go away, though, and Flint looks over at Riley. "Well, there's plenty of pizza. Um. You want some chocolate, or something? I got some of, some good chocolate, while I was out this morning. You. Look like you could use it more than me, Riley."
Riley pulls her legs closer to her, one foot ending up rested on the edge of the countertop, the other flat against the cupboard directly below where Riley's perched. Flint's suggestion gets a decidedly sour look, but she nods her head, "Yeah. Chocolate sounds good." She tosses the half-demolished slice of pizza into the sink, an easy little lob from where she's situated. She takes a long breath and lets it out, frowning. The tequila is dragged back over to her, and the trio of shotglasses refilled with another careless slosh. "…We need some awakened booze. This sucks." Three more shots go back, whee.
Cheese Doodle hurries a little, when she hears Riley slam down three more, ears slicked back.
Flint picks himself up from the ground, moving to where his backpack is by the computer, and after rummaging a moment, Flint comes out with two fairly-sized chocolate bars, each wrapped in plain white paper. Some small name chocolate maker, and the boy crosses over to the kitchen to lean on the counter nearby Riley, after pausing and going through the refrigerator to grab a bottle of hard cider from the door for himself. "Milk or dark?" No comment is made as far as the tequila.
Riley finally just forsakes the shotglasses entirely, pulling down a small glass and using that instead. The bottle of Tequila is looking significantly dented, but it's not awakened, and clearly hasn't started to hit the girl yet. She retires from the countertop with the glass cradled in her hands, and it's there that she accepts the bar of dark chocolate. "Thanks." She folds a leg over the other, glancing Flint's way. "So, Cliath. Feel any different?"
Flint takes the bar of milk chocolate for himself, peeling back the paper as he rummages through the drawer and finds a bottle opener. "Um. Kinda?" Flint shrugs. "I dun know. It's nice to be able to go out and all, though it's still easier if I get someone to. To give me a ride to Edgewood when I. Need to go there. And. I haven't had the stupid feeling/desire to." Pause, and Flint tilts back the bottle of hard cider, taking a long sip. "To run away from everything, recently. Too. Too busy." He points over to the wall above the computers.
"Don't expect that to go away too soon," Riley murmurs quietly, letting her gaze stray up toward the ceiling. A sip of tequila forces her eyes closed for a moment with the burn. "Even if the Garou in your head's taking to this like a fish to water, he… it doesn't define you. And trust me, there's more than enough in this life to make a person want to run away." She casts Flint a lopsided grin, "Only good thing is that most of us go through it, and feel where you're comin' from. Know I do."
Descending from above and meandering back into the breakroom, returns a Nieve. To the kitchen she goes now, to find a beer, crack it open and sip, plopping herself down on a seat near the SNES and looking through some of the classic games.
Flint nods, breaking off a piece of his own chocolate bar and popping it into his mouth, with a half-wave for Nieve. "Yeah. I. I mean. Devon and I. We fought again," Flint says with a frown. Not least of all because Riley did say not to let it become a Thing, and apparently it is. Apparently the cliath has a few reasons of his own to be drinking, "but at least I. At least being able to go out, I think helps. It. I only want to run away most, when I feel trapped. So being able to go out and not have to. To bother someone to take me, or able to go over and crash at Kaz's or out at Edgewood and have some. Some space, it helps."
Riley gives a quiet inclination of her head as Nieve arrives, but her attention is clearly on Flint at the moment, particularly when the cliath mentions fighting it out with Devon again. That prompts a low sigh, and a few sips of her glass of tequila. Thanks to the large number of shots prior, she's starting to at least feel it. "If what you need is space, then take it. You've earned that right. Still want to mash your stubborn Cliath heads together, though." She mumbles, glancing over toward Nieve, "…anything good in there?"
"S'what's b'tween you an' Red Hands anyhow?" Nieve wonders openly of Flint, then waggles a bottle of cheap Mexican import in Riley's direction. "Bought 'em cheap off a guy yesterday. S'not bad," she offers, cracking open her own and taking a few gulps. Mmm, beer.
"I don't even know, Nieve-rhya," Flint answers Nieve, sighing. "He just. We just don't get along, he thinks I don't respect him or something, and. But I do." The teen moves to the seat next to the computer that's on, turning it around to face his tribemates so as to continue talking. Kinda. "I don't want to fight with him, Riley. It just happens. He. He was an asshole about the post-its and about my project and about everything… and it got to me a little much."
The dark-moon waves off the offer from Nieve with an indication to her own glass of tequila. "Thanks, but I think I'll be good." She's already settling down in comparison to the state Flint got the joy of witnessing her in, and she nestles a bit into the couch, taking a nibble of dark chocolate. She chews thoughtfully, and swallows, "Can't say I've seen you two much t'gether when you weren't already mid-fight, so can't speak much to who's right or wrong. Suspect you're both just bein' twits."
"So, challenge him," Nieve suggests mildly. "Y' both Cliath, y' got a dis'greement, y' can't find—or maybe don't wanna find a Philodox t' mediate it—so challenge him. It'll shut one f' you up, at least." She displays a remarkable lack of sympathy to Cliath antics. "An' if you win, you'll prove to him you're worth your rank an' he should lay off th' shit."
Riley frowns, taking back the rest of her tequila, "It'd shut the argument up, prolly, but challenges seldom win friends."
Flint turns the bottle of hard cider around in his hands. "Actually. I. I just asked Cheese Doodle-rhya, if she'd mediate it. When she's not got a headache. At least, first. I'd rather do that," he says, one knee crossing over the other. "Rather than challenge him. I do respect him, and I don't have anything. Against him in particular, if he'd stop being an ass and making fun of me when I try. To talk, or get a point across, or. And he already hates me anyway. No. No need to make it worse." Once again, the cliath sighs.
"It don't sound like they're gonna be friends anyway," Nieve points out to Riley. "An' t'be honest, sometimes it's th' only way." She nods to Flint then, though. "Good. Seek mediation an' see how that goes. Hopef'ly it'll work f'you."
Riley seems, unsurprisingly, to be settling in to a rather nice buzz after the unhealthy amount of tequila she's just ingested. "Yeah, well. Maybe they should pull their heads out of their asses and act like Garou, not schoolchildren." She hasn't forgotten that Flint's in the room, but it's clear that she's annoyed. She trains her gaze on Flint, squinty-eyed. "Have your challenge, then."
Flint gets the expression that the ragabash once described as expecting the entire world to kick him, gaze falling down to his feet and shoulders falling. "Like I said, I don'. I don't want to fight with Devon, or anything."
"So don't," is Riley's helpful nugget of advice for the evening. She nibbles on the chocolate bar, eyes still slightly squinty—probably the effects of the alcohol starting to ease into her bloodstream, that.
There is nothing else on the subject of teen angst from Nieve, content to drink her beer and mentally re-live old console conquests as she rifles through the box of old cartridge games.
Flint nods once. "Yeah." The bottle of cider is stared at when Flint realises that it's empty, and Flint gets up, moving to go put it in the bin for recycling in the kitchen. "Hmmn," the boy muses. "Probably shouldn't. But whatever," he states, to himself, but regardless of what it is, it doesn't stop Flint from taking out another bottle of the cider from the fridge and popping it open. First one hasn't even had an effect anyway. "Nieve-rhya?" Change of topic time! "I…?" It trails into a question. "Do you know the rite that, the one that is the ritual feeding of the earth?" Pause. "I. Need to learn it."
Riley sits up smoothly but rapidly, plants a hand on the back of the couch and lightly vaults it, her hands immediately tucking into her coat pockets, as has become her habit. "Goin' out," She gruffly murmurs, the slightest bit of inebriated sway to her step. She meets any words with a simple little wave of the back of her hand, and disappears out into the hallway and down the stairs.
"I do know it," Nieve affirms with a nod to the Galliard. "What're you offerin' for it?" She tilts her head, dreadlocks swaying a little as she does so, steel charms catching the light.
Flint moves over to take a seat on the couch, now, pursing his lips. "Depends, if. I. You saw the cutting board I made? I. I make other things too, like boxes, small woodwork stuff." He outlines the rough shape of a cube and then various sizes, in the air with his hands, before trying to pull out a cigarette from a rumpled—and empty—pack. "I. Could make you one, and." The empty pack of cigarettes is frowned at.
"Will y'make me a plaque?" Nieve suggests, motioning to a square about five by five inches. "With a skull an' crossbones on it. Like a proper pirate." It's a small thing, but seems to amuse her. Automatically out of sympathy for a fellow smoker, she offers one of her own to the cub, along with a lighter.
Flint accepts the cigarette with a grateful nod, setting his drink down to light it. "I can and I will," Flint says, grinning, and then looks as if to find his sketchbook, though he's not wearing his sweatshirt right now. "What sorta wood? And, do you want the skull and crossbones to be like, higher than the plaque, or, carved into it?" The teen seems quite happy to be talking craft.
"Carved in, so I can use it for makin' wax relief if I need to," Nieve decides. "So, why'd y'need t'know this rite, anyhow?" she wonders curiosity, lighting another smoke for herself as well.
Flint nods, seeming to take mental notes on the details of the project, and leans back into the couch. The earlier 'world is going to kick me' look has disappeared and the boy's relaxed significantly. "The. The Groundskeeper said. It's part of chiminage to the trees, to use wood from the Bawn in the memorial project, and other projects later if," the cliath explains. "And Sera Follows-the-Tradewinds-rhya has already taught me the ritual for thanking the spirit of an animal, and this is the other one I need."
20 March, 2012
The moon is in the waning New (Ragabash) Moon phase (14% full).
The computers have been moved a good two and a half feet away from the wall, but that hasn't stopped them from being used. Right now, though, Flint's taking a break from whatever research is open on the computer screen, and rummaging through the refrigerator, looking for something.
Cheese Doodle ambles into the Break room, in hispo. The philodox looks like shit, with some bite wounds on her left side that have gone swollen. Still, if anyone's seen her laying around in hispo the last few days, she look far better. The hispo sniffs her way along, limping a bit as she seeks out food.
Cheese Doodle's also wearing a funny little metal backpack—a disk with a bulldozer painted on it.
Flint is monopolising the refrigerator, but the teenager pauses at the sound, turning around, and blinks a moment. For himself, he's come out with a container of lasagna, grasped in one hand. "Hey Doodle-rhya," Flint offers quietly, looking at the hispo and thinking, silence stretching out for a little. "I. There's some hotdogs, or sandwiches. And pasta?"
Cheese Doodle offers a weakly greeting to Flint, more out of formality than not, as she tries to poke her head around the other. She probably judges Flint aside as she does, being hispo sized and all, but a girl's got to eat. The lupus grabs the first thing that she sees with her teeth. ~I got a headache, so talk slow.~ She says, after setting down the tupperware somewhere on the floor.
Meandering on into the breakroom is a Nieve, her scent probably familiar enough to Doodle by now given she's been living in the Tenement for a few weeks. She's yawning and eye-rubbing, apparently only just out of bed, and has a certain languor about her that suggests she's not necessarily fully awake yet either. "Flint, s'there any pizza'n the fridge?" she wonders through a yawn, then her attention falls on the hispo. "Hola."
Flint catches himself on the counter and sets the container of lasagna that he'd claimed aside. "I yeah, I think so," he offers to Nieve, and then he nods to Cheese Doodle, making a small effort to both talk slow and not have the extra repetitions of words, even as he gets out of the way of the refrigerator and starts making himself a plate. "Alright. You want something to drink, Doodle-rhya?" If there's any grudge from the time that she'd given him shooting lessons, it's long forgotten by the teenager at least.
Flint's question is lost on the Philodox, who likewise looks back at the newcomer theurge, peering a bit at the unfamiliar face. A sniff or two later causes her to relax somewhat, but there's still an air of tension about her. She plods forward, sniffing at the Theurge more closely. Unless Nieve stops her, the massive hispo will do the usual wolf-meet and greet motions, including all those nice and personal spots.
By now, Nieve is more than used to how wolves greet. She holds still for Doodle to get personal, brow raising a little bit but no outward commentary; nor does her body-language indicate embaressment or offense. "Y'could just ask, y'know," she tells Doodle, tone mild. "M'name is Nieve, or Pirate Trader. Adren Theurge." It seems pointless to state tribe since she's up here and all. "Can y'throw it in the microwave for me, Flint?" she asks then, as she's barred from the kitchen by a bulky hispo just now.
Flint finishes putting his own food in the microwave. "Sure," he responds, moving back over to the fridge to pull out the box of pizza and set it on the counter. Some's set on a plate to go in the microwave, but one piece is picked up and Flint just starts eating it. Cold pizza, yum.
Cheese Doodle takes longer than she normally does, moving slowly due to her injuries, and looking confused throughout. Eventually she backs off, giving the Adren some space; her expression is vexed, like something is amiss. ~Um, yes! Okay.~ She replies, before glancing back to the tupperware of… whatever she pulled out. ~Sorry, hi.~
"Are y'in need of healin'?" Nieve asks politely of Doodle, demeanour shifting from sleepy and relaxed to mildly impatient, though mildly really does mean mildly. "Gracias, Flint," she adds for the cliath as he gets around to nuking her food.
Even with his plate of lasagna heated, and Nieve's plate of pizza set on the table, Flint busies himself with a second piece of cold pizza while putting the rest back in the fridge.
~Heal? Um.~ Cheese Doodle has to think about that far longer than it should really take. Again, there's confusion. ~Oh. No, it's poison. Already was healed. Need to wait it out.~ She says, tossing her head a bit. Oh! Hi. I'm Cheese Doodle Burns Chrome. I'm a fostern philodox, she tells the other, like she's just remembering things. I haven't met you.
The smell of food cooking is more than enough to drag in Riley. She pops her head into the breakroom, sniffing and then narrowing her eyes on the plate of lasagna. She fluidly strides into the room, foregoing greetings in order to loom behind Flint with her head angled severely to the side, Sadako-esque. When he turns about he'll find a hungry ragabash creepily peering down at him.
"You're the lupus," Nieve identifies, impatience melting into utter curiosity, her attention fixed on the injured hispo for a long moment. "I've been hopin' to meet you. Hi." There's even a smile for Doodle, before the Theurge moves away in the direction of her food.
Flint focuses on the second slice of cold pizza for a moment, gaze on his feet, before the galliard turns to move for his plate of food. And startles to see Riley. The half slice of pizza is dropped to the floor before Flint manages to un-startle. "H…hi, Riley," the teenager says, blinking a few times.
~Hi!~ The hispo repeats, batting her ears back for a moment. She still looks confused. She turns her head back to glance at the tupperware she set on the ground. And when Nieve goes to grab her food, Doodle takes that as an excuse to nab her own dinner and squirrel it away in a corner. Gingerly plucking the lid off, the hispo doesn't even look at what she's eating before she wolfs it down. It's left over chicken salad.
Riley flashes her teeth in a savage little grin, "Five second rule!" She dips, snagging the piece of downed pizza, and victoriously makes her way to the couch, flopping down where there's room. Her primary objective met, she glances from Doodle to Nieve whilst chewing on her ill-gotten slice of pizza. Doodle is stopped upon again, and she frowns. "Doods, you drinking enough? You look off."
Pizza, it is nommed by many. "Riley, we need t'talk about your condition," Nieve tells the no-moon mildly, once she's munched her way through the first slice and kicked back somewhat. "Tell me what happened with th' dove."
Flint watches Riley a moment. "There's more pizza," the galliard states. Oh well. "Doodle-rhya, you want any of the pizza?"
Mood-kill. Riley's expression deadens, and she tears off a large piece of cold pizza, occupying herself with chewing the fuck out of it to avoid answering in any sort of timely fashion. Naturally, she chews slowly, and thoroughly. An answer is not immediately forthcoming.
Cheese Doodle slowly looks up and over to Riley, and wrinkles her nose. Drink? No, no beer. I have a headache. Licking the chicken salad off her face, she fails to be enticed by the pizza—god, she must be serious about that headache! ~Stupid poison.~ She adds, grouchily.
"Riley." Nieve regards the no-moon steadily, waiting for an answer. Though, she does nom some more of her own pizza while she waits, lest the time be wasted.
Riley finally, finally swallows. "She apologized." That seems to be the only answer Riley feels like giving. She sets the pizza unsanitarily on the arm of the couch to lurch up and stride over to the kitchen again. A massive and tacky plastic novelty cup (clearly from 7-11) is dragged down and filled to the brim with water. The ragabash approaches Cheese Doodle and murmurs, "Hey. Doods. Take Homid or Glabro and drink this. All of it. It'll help." Her words are intentionally short and clipped.
Flint leans back on the counter with his plate of lasagna. There's a small amount of humming that comes in between bites of eating, but for the most part, Flint's keeping quiet. Though Doodle ignoring the offer of pizza does get a concerned look.
Cheese Doodle knows what to do with the water, even if her English kinda sucks today (more than normal). Up to glabro, the teen takes the cup and chugs the water. When she's done, she brings the empty tupperware and cup back to the sink. ~So, um. Who are you?~ She asks Nieve.
Likewise taking Glabro form, since Doodle seems to prefer MT, Nieve points out, ~I've already introduced myself once. Nieve, Pirate Trader, Adren Theurge.~ Then she cocks her head slightly at Riley. ~Give me the whole story, please. I didn't bargain a month of my time away to the dove to get two-word answers from those she tried to heal about why it didn't work,~ she then tells the no-moon. ~As much detail as you can, so I've an idea about what to try next.~
Some of the bristle goes out of Riley as she watches Clarice swig down the big-gulp of water, expression revealing equal parts concern and awe at the rate the girl packs away the beverage. "Well, I'm impressed." With a little puff of breath, the ragabash slinks back to the couch just in time to get an earful in mother's tongue. She pauses, slice of pizza in hand, and slowly sits up. Her cheeks burn perceptibly under the Adren's reprimand. "…Yeah. Sorry. Um…" She nibbles the edge of the slice of pizza and mumbles, "She tried a bunch of times to cleanse me, but none of it took. There's… not much to say. She tried four times, each time for a longer time than the last, but… not so much."
Flint eventually takes his plate of food to the table, sitting down and turning the chair to stare at the computer. "Hm," Flint muses, but it doesn't seem to be directed at anyone. Nor does it take long for Flint to finish the lasagna, at which point he glances at Doodle, and also matches the shift up to Glabro, a faint nervous expression on the cliath's face.
~Oh, sorry.~ Clarice says to Nieve, looking slightly embarrassed. She hunches her shoulders, and starts to turn away, when she hears the talk between Nieve and Riley. If her ears could perk up, that'd do it; the lupus turns and watches the conversation, closely.
The Theurge cocks her head slightly at Riley, then rises to her feet. ~Come with, please. This won't take long.~ She beckons at the Fostern, and then turns to head out of the breakroom, with two slices of pizza in hand—could get hungry en-route to wherever, after all.
It's difficult to miss the frown on Riley's features, but she sulkily collects herself and gnaws at the rest of her pizza on her way after Nieve.
Clarice, though unbidden, follows after Riley, the Philodox rather curious about whatever Nieve's talking about with her friend. She still looks like she has a headache, but there's also pointed interest.
Flint looks at the Philodox, and shuffles his feet in place. ~Cheese Doodle-rhya?~ Flint calls out. His Mother's Tongue is just as much with the hesitation as his English, and there's a distinct feel that it's awkward, but he's trying. ~Um. Could I. Talk to you about some stuff, when you. Don't have a headache?~
~Would you mind waiting here please, Cheese Doodle Burns Chrome?~ Nieve asks the lupus politely. ~I need to ask Riley some personal questions she may not wish overheard. We will return soon.~ Well, it's asked nicely, at least. To Riley, the Adren motions to precede her out into the corridor.
Riley doesn't seem entirely thrilled by the prospect of what Nieve is detailing, but casts a reassuring nod over to Cheese Doodle, half-hearted grin and all. "Don't worry, be right back. Still hungry."
Clarice gives a helpless gesture towards Riley, before nodding repeatedly. There's something about that gesture that just seems… off. "Hokaay." She agrees in English, before glancing back to Flint. ~Huh?~ She asks, tilting her head.
Flint moves to sit down on the floor near the couch. ~Well. Um. One, I'm sorry, back when. The shooting lesson and I ran out and all.~ That's seems to be the first order of business, as the cliath glances up at the Philodox, then waits. Really, quite nervously, and he doesn't seem to like glabro too much either.
Clarice strains for a moment, thinking hard about something. It takes her a bit to get there. ~Oh, right, don't worry about it.~ She says, waving dismissively. She rubs her head some, before leaning against the wall. ~Like, we're all moody and stupid as cubs. I think.~
Flint seems to relax a little. ~Thanks. I. The other thing is about Devon. Kavi-rhya said, that to talk to you at some point, because. Devon and I keep ending up in fights, and.~ Absentmindedly as he talks, Flint trails a finger down from his ribcage, kind of fidgeting. ~And I don't like it, and I don't know what to do.~
Clarice slumps against the wall, slightly, the metal backpack thingy clunking against it. Though she looks headache, she tries to focus for a moment. ~What are you fighting about, usually?~
~Stupid things,~ Flint responds. ~Mostly. Or. The last time, Devon was giving me a hard time about. Talking, and my auspice, and everything. And the post-it notes. He called them dumb, and, they. They weren't. And that's hard for me, and I'm working on it, but then he threw food at me and I threw food at him and we fought anyway.~ The galliard sighs, quietly.
Clarice waits a long moment after the galliard sighs before she furrows her brow and nods a bit. ~I've got a bad headache from being bitten by a giant poisoned bane…~ She says, like it's a normal condition to have. ~But… I can talk to you two later, when I can focus more. That okay?~
Flint winces a little at 'giant poisoned bane', and nods in response. ~When you don't have a headache, yeah.~ There's a faint, tentative smile as Flint rolls his shoulders once. ~There's some more pizza, if you want? And, thank you, Cheese Doodle-rhya. I. I appreciate it.~
Clarice shakes her head `no` repeatedly. ~Not hungry, really. Queasy, mostly.~ She gives a helpless shrug, in a very homid style, pursing her lips for a moment. ~Don't get bitten by poison things. It's good advice. I think.~
~And don't bite them, either,~ Flint adds, with a grimace. ~I. Bit a skull pig.~ He seems to be over it now, though, but it isn't a pleasant memory. ~It got my arm and I frenzied on it and forgot all about that. That Owen-rhya said not to bite them.~
~Why not? Are they poisonous too?~ Doodle asks, cocking her head to one side.
Flint nods. ~Apparently! It burned my mouth and all,~ the galliard states with a note of distaste. ~Not to mention, ick. At least I know not to bite one in the future.~
Clarice almost seems to go 'oh', though more in posture than in actual vocalizations. She furrows her brow, thinking for a bit. ~Don't think I've seen a skullpig before. What's one like?~
Flint hmmms a bit and grins over at the Philodox. ~Well. Kinda like a pig, except. The adult ones were. They were pretty big, like the size of a … pony? And their heads looked like. If they were made of bone, barely had any skin on them. I was out with Alexandra and Nik and we were going to. We were going to hunt for lunch but we found skull pigs instead. And the boar? Had tusks, and it kind of gored Alexandra. The not-adult ones were the size of, a dog or so?~ This is offered carefully, Flint occasionally hunting for words in the Mother's Tongue, but he seems happy enough to tell her about them. ~It was out near Edgewood, but not on the Bawn.~
Making her way back down into the breakroom, Riley doesn't appear to be in significantly improved spirits. To the contrary, her playful mood has curdled into something decidedly more somber and angry. She strides over to the fridge, but pulls open the freezer instead. A bottle of tequila is withdrawn and slammed down on the countertop. She stands on her toes to reach one of the higher cupboard shelves, scooping down a few shotglasses and lining them up. The tequila is given a sloppy slosh over all three, leaving a significant amount spilling onto the countertop. They're thrown back in succession. One, slam. Two, slam. Three, slam. Only then does she turn to the fridge and haul out an extra-large slice of pizza, which she starts to spitefully chew.
Clarice is about to say something to Flint, when the return of Riley catches her attention. She watches the Ragabash go about her way, and when she slams down three shots, Clarice is all ears. ~Uh, something wrong?~
Flint looks over at Riley, but Clarice manages to ask first, and so, where he's sitting on the floor next to the couch, the cliath just pulls his knees up to his chest, brows furrowing at the ragabash.
Riley slides up onto the countertop, a hand shoving away the bottle and the shotglasses, her butt carefully avoiding the spillover from the bad pouring job. Clarice is sent a shake of her head, and a simple and unconvincing, "No. Hungry, thirsty."
Clarice bites down on her lip and nods a bit, about as equally unconvincing. She hesitates a few moments, before shifting back to hispo. Shaking herself off, the lupus starts to plod back to wherever the hell she's been napping.
~Seeya, Doodle-rhya,~ Flint offers, shifting back down to homid as the philodox goes off. The furrow of brow doesn't go away, though, and Flint looks over at Riley. "Well, there's plenty of pizza. Um. You want some chocolate, or something? I got some of, some good chocolate, while I was out this morning. You. Look like you could use it more than me, Riley."
Riley pulls her legs closer to her, one foot ending up rested on the edge of the countertop, the other flat against the cupboard directly below where Riley's perched. Flint's suggestion gets a decidedly sour look, but she nods her head, "Yeah. Chocolate sounds good." She tosses the half-demolished slice of pizza into the sink, an easy little lob from where she's situated. She takes a long breath and lets it out, frowning. The tequila is dragged back over to her, and the trio of shotglasses refilled with another careless slosh. "…We need some awakened booze. This sucks." Three more shots go back, whee.
Cheese Doodle hurries a little, when she hears Riley slam down three more, ears slicked back.
Flint picks himself up from the ground, moving to where his backpack is by the computer, and after rummaging a moment, Flint comes out with two fairly-sized chocolate bars, each wrapped in plain white paper. Some small name chocolate maker, and the boy crosses over to the kitchen to lean on the counter nearby Riley, after pausing and going through the refrigerator to grab a bottle of hard cider from the door for himself. "Milk or dark?" No comment is made as far as the tequila.
Riley finally just forsakes the shotglasses entirely, pulling down a small glass and using that instead. The bottle of Tequila is looking significantly dented, but it's not awakened, and clearly hasn't started to hit the girl yet. She retires from the countertop with the glass cradled in her hands, and it's there that she accepts the bar of dark chocolate. "Thanks." She folds a leg over the other, glancing Flint's way. "So, Cliath. Feel any different?"
Flint takes the bar of milk chocolate for himself, peeling back the paper as he rummages through the drawer and finds a bottle opener. "Um. Kinda?" Flint shrugs. "I dun know. It's nice to be able to go out and all, though it's still easier if I get someone to. To give me a ride to Edgewood when I. Need to go there. And. I haven't had the stupid feeling/desire to." Pause, and Flint tilts back the bottle of hard cider, taking a long sip. "To run away from everything, recently. Too. Too busy." He points over to the wall above the computers.
"Don't expect that to go away too soon," Riley murmurs quietly, letting her gaze stray up toward the ceiling. A sip of tequila forces her eyes closed for a moment with the burn. "Even if the Garou in your head's taking to this like a fish to water, he… it doesn't define you. And trust me, there's more than enough in this life to make a person want to run away." She casts Flint a lopsided grin, "Only good thing is that most of us go through it, and feel where you're comin' from. Know I do."
Descending from above and meandering back into the breakroom, returns a Nieve. To the kitchen she goes now, to find a beer, crack it open and sip, plopping herself down on a seat near the SNES and looking through some of the classic games.
Flint nods, breaking off a piece of his own chocolate bar and popping it into his mouth, with a half-wave for Nieve. "Yeah. I. I mean. Devon and I. We fought again," Flint says with a frown. Not least of all because Riley did say not to let it become a Thing, and apparently it is. Apparently the cliath has a few reasons of his own to be drinking, "but at least I. At least being able to go out, I think helps. It. I only want to run away most, when I feel trapped. So being able to go out and not have to. To bother someone to take me, or able to go over and crash at Kaz's or out at Edgewood and have some. Some space, it helps."
Riley gives a quiet inclination of her head as Nieve arrives, but her attention is clearly on Flint at the moment, particularly when the cliath mentions fighting it out with Devon again. That prompts a low sigh, and a few sips of her glass of tequila. Thanks to the large number of shots prior, she's starting to at least feel it. "If what you need is space, then take it. You've earned that right. Still want to mash your stubborn Cliath heads together, though." She mumbles, glancing over toward Nieve, "…anything good in there?"
"S'what's b'tween you an' Red Hands anyhow?" Nieve wonders openly of Flint, then waggles a bottle of cheap Mexican import in Riley's direction. "Bought 'em cheap off a guy yesterday. S'not bad," she offers, cracking open her own and taking a few gulps. Mmm, beer.
"I don't even know, Nieve-rhya," Flint answers Nieve, sighing. "He just. We just don't get along, he thinks I don't respect him or something, and. But I do." The teen moves to the seat next to the computer that's on, turning it around to face his tribemates so as to continue talking. Kinda. "I don't want to fight with him, Riley. It just happens. He. He was an asshole about the post-its and about my project and about everything… and it got to me a little much."
The dark-moon waves off the offer from Nieve with an indication to her own glass of tequila. "Thanks, but I think I'll be good." She's already settling down in comparison to the state Flint got the joy of witnessing her in, and she nestles a bit into the couch, taking a nibble of dark chocolate. She chews thoughtfully, and swallows, "Can't say I've seen you two much t'gether when you weren't already mid-fight, so can't speak much to who's right or wrong. Suspect you're both just bein' twits."
"So, challenge him," Nieve suggests mildly. "Y' both Cliath, y' got a dis'greement, y' can't find—or maybe don't wanna find a Philodox t' mediate it—so challenge him. It'll shut one f' you up, at least." She displays a remarkable lack of sympathy to Cliath antics. "An' if you win, you'll prove to him you're worth your rank an' he should lay off th' shit."
Riley frowns, taking back the rest of her tequila, "It'd shut the argument up, prolly, but challenges seldom win friends."
Flint turns the bottle of hard cider around in his hands. "Actually. I. I just asked Cheese Doodle-rhya, if she'd mediate it. When she's not got a headache. At least, first. I'd rather do that," he says, one knee crossing over the other. "Rather than challenge him. I do respect him, and I don't have anything. Against him in particular, if he'd stop being an ass and making fun of me when I try. To talk, or get a point across, or. And he already hates me anyway. No. No need to make it worse." Once again, the cliath sighs.
"It don't sound like they're gonna be friends anyway," Nieve points out to Riley. "An' t'be honest, sometimes it's th' only way." She nods to Flint then, though. "Good. Seek mediation an' see how that goes. Hopef'ly it'll work f'you."
Riley seems, unsurprisingly, to be settling in to a rather nice buzz after the unhealthy amount of tequila she's just ingested. "Yeah, well. Maybe they should pull their heads out of their asses and act like Garou, not schoolchildren." She hasn't forgotten that Flint's in the room, but it's clear that she's annoyed. She trains her gaze on Flint, squinty-eyed. "Have your challenge, then."
Flint gets the expression that the ragabash once described as expecting the entire world to kick him, gaze falling down to his feet and shoulders falling. "Like I said, I don'. I don't want to fight with Devon, or anything."
"So don't," is Riley's helpful nugget of advice for the evening. She nibbles on the chocolate bar, eyes still slightly squinty—probably the effects of the alcohol starting to ease into her bloodstream, that.
There is nothing else on the subject of teen angst from Nieve, content to drink her beer and mentally re-live old console conquests as she rifles through the box of old cartridge games.
Flint nods once. "Yeah." The bottle of cider is stared at when Flint realises that it's empty, and Flint gets up, moving to go put it in the bin for recycling in the kitchen. "Hmmn," the boy muses. "Probably shouldn't. But whatever," he states, to himself, but regardless of what it is, it doesn't stop Flint from taking out another bottle of the cider from the fridge and popping it open. First one hasn't even had an effect anyway. "Nieve-rhya?" Change of topic time! "I…?" It trails into a question. "Do you know the rite that, the one that is the ritual feeding of the earth?" Pause. "I. Need to learn it."
Riley sits up smoothly but rapidly, plants a hand on the back of the couch and lightly vaults it, her hands immediately tucking into her coat pockets, as has become her habit. "Goin' out," She gruffly murmurs, the slightest bit of inebriated sway to her step. She meets any words with a simple little wave of the back of her hand, and disappears out into the hallway and down the stairs.
"I do know it," Nieve affirms with a nod to the Galliard. "What're you offerin' for it?" She tilts her head, dreadlocks swaying a little as she does so, steel charms catching the light.
Flint moves over to take a seat on the couch, now, pursing his lips. "Depends, if. I. You saw the cutting board I made? I. I make other things too, like boxes, small woodwork stuff." He outlines the rough shape of a cube and then various sizes, in the air with his hands, before trying to pull out a cigarette from a rumpled—and empty—pack. "I. Could make you one, and." The empty pack of cigarettes is frowned at.
"Will y'make me a plaque?" Nieve suggests, motioning to a square about five by five inches. "With a skull an' crossbones on it. Like a proper pirate." It's a small thing, but seems to amuse her. Automatically out of sympathy for a fellow smoker, she offers one of her own to the cub, along with a lighter.
Flint accepts the cigarette with a grateful nod, setting his drink down to light it. "I can and I will," Flint says, grinning, and then looks as if to find his sketchbook, though he's not wearing his sweatshirt right now. "What sorta wood? And, do you want the skull and crossbones to be like, higher than the plaque, or, carved into it?" The teen seems quite happy to be talking craft.
"Carved in, so I can use it for makin' wax relief if I need to," Nieve decides. "So, why'd y'need t'know this rite, anyhow?" she wonders curiosity, lighting another smoke for herself as well.
Flint nods, seeming to take mental notes on the details of the project, and leans back into the couch. The earlier 'world is going to kick me' look has disappeared and the boy's relaxed significantly. "The. The Groundskeeper said. It's part of chiminage to the trees, to use wood from the Bawn in the memorial project, and other projects later if," the cliath explains. "And Sera Follows-the-Tradewinds-rhya has already taught me the ritual for thanking the spirit of an animal, and this is the other one I need."