Solitude. Kinda.
Tuesday, 10 April 2012 10:34![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flint_garouWell, alright then.
10 April, 2012
The moon is in the waning Gibbous (Galliard) Moon phase (74% full).
Flint lets himself up onto the roof in relative silence except for the squeak that the door from the stairwell decides to emit. The galliard's got earbuds in, and an iPhone in hand, as well as an unlit cigarette clenched in his teeth. The tension of the moon shows heavily on the teenager, enough that he gets the first few steps out towards the small garden area without even paying attention as to who else might be up there.
It's not difficult at all to tell who's up here. Particularly because she's on the phone, and pacing around the rooftop with the receiver pressed firmly to her ear. "Kaz. This is Riley. I need to talk to you about something, and it's important. Call me back as soon as you get this." She flicks her attention toward the now-closing door as she flips her phone sharply down. The girl looks… exhausted. Even for her typically unusually sleep habits, she rarely looks quite so frazzled as this. Her hair is greasy and entirely out of place, and… to put it kindly, she has an aroma. "Flint." She states, as her greeting.
Flint pauses, pulling out both a lighter, and a pack of cigarettes, the second of which gets offered to the Ragabash. "Hi, Riley," he says, brows lifting a half-tick in question, but nothing further stated.
Riley doesn't do tobacco. She's made little secret of this in past dealings—nevertheless, her fingers curl around the pack, and at length, she frees one of the cigarettes from its confines, holding the pack in her hand and the cigarette between her fingers. She expectantly extends her hand, seeking both to return and get a light. "You can call off any more of those night patrols. Sorry for ditching out the last few days, I just… something important came up."
Flint passes over the lighter, nodding. "Alright. Didn't find anything on them, anyway," the Galliard says, with another uptick of brows in question. "So?"
Riley's hands are a bit jittery, and it takes a few attempts at the lighter to coax a flame. She lights up, and transfers the cigarette from fingers to mouth, taking a long breath and closing her eyes. "'So' what?"
Flint is quiet a moment, putting away the phone and taking a long drag from his own cigarette. "What's the status on. On the wolf that was being, a serial killer if… if we're calling off those night patrols?"
The girl frowns, lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug, "Dead." She takes a long drag from the cigarette, her eyes slightly narrowed, "…I'm waiting on Kaz to get back to me to figure out what I'm supposed to do with her body with the Caern sealed and the bawn all brambled up. Mouse said she'd know the proper rites." She glances down to the cigarette between her lips, turns her head, and spits it onto the rooftop. "Still tastes like shit."
Flint nods. "Ah. Right," he acknowledges, and then does move over towards the garden area of the roof, sitting down next to one of the potted plants.
Riley turns to mash the cigarette butt into oblivion with the heel of her shoe, then ruffles her already-mussed hair, causing it to stick out in even stranger directions. "Yeah. Right. Anyway, that's all there is to say about it. It's handled."
Flint doesn't press the matter further, though he does draw out the phone again and tap out a message on the touchscreen. "You should get some sleep or something, maybe?" the galliard offers, in a quieter tone that makes it clear it's a suggestion, made out of general concern.
"We're Garou," Riley all but snaps, "It's not like I'm going to die of sleep deprivation, now am I? I'll sleep when I've seen to her remains, and not before." She shoves her hands deep into her coat pockets, stalking over to the edge of the roof and looking out over their meager view of the city.
Flint looks back down at his phone, frowning at it for a moment and then putting it back in his pocket. There's just a nod, and Flint turns his attention to pulling a folding knife from his pocket and opening it. Riley isn't ignored, but the cliath's attention is no longer on the ragabash, either.
Riley lifts a hand to her face, taking a few steps back from the edge of the roof and allowing her fingers to squeeze at the bridge of her nose as she winces. "Damn it, I… look, sorry. I'm just…" She takes a shallow breath, "I'm just really tired. Obviously." She glances back to Flint, and her brows lift slightly at the knife. "…Did you get into whittling, or something?"
Flint turns it over in his hands a few time, though right now he just seems to be fidgeting with it. "It's alright," he responds, a little tense, and then continues, "no, I'm just fidgeting. All my woodwork's down in the workshop."
Riley's brows ease back out, but she's left with a baffled look on her face. "I'm too tired to shoot the shit, Flint. If you're going to fidget, or don't have something to say, would you mind leaving me? I've got a lot to think on, and it's nothing personal, but I'd rather do it alone."
Flint offers Riley a tense smile. "Okay," the teen says, moving back towards the stairwell door, and then downstairs. "Seeya."
10 April, 2012
The moon is in the waning Gibbous (Galliard) Moon phase (74% full).
Flint lets himself up onto the roof in relative silence except for the squeak that the door from the stairwell decides to emit. The galliard's got earbuds in, and an iPhone in hand, as well as an unlit cigarette clenched in his teeth. The tension of the moon shows heavily on the teenager, enough that he gets the first few steps out towards the small garden area without even paying attention as to who else might be up there.
It's not difficult at all to tell who's up here. Particularly because she's on the phone, and pacing around the rooftop with the receiver pressed firmly to her ear. "Kaz. This is Riley. I need to talk to you about something, and it's important. Call me back as soon as you get this." She flicks her attention toward the now-closing door as she flips her phone sharply down. The girl looks… exhausted. Even for her typically unusually sleep habits, she rarely looks quite so frazzled as this. Her hair is greasy and entirely out of place, and… to put it kindly, she has an aroma. "Flint." She states, as her greeting.
Flint pauses, pulling out both a lighter, and a pack of cigarettes, the second of which gets offered to the Ragabash. "Hi, Riley," he says, brows lifting a half-tick in question, but nothing further stated.
Riley doesn't do tobacco. She's made little secret of this in past dealings—nevertheless, her fingers curl around the pack, and at length, she frees one of the cigarettes from its confines, holding the pack in her hand and the cigarette between her fingers. She expectantly extends her hand, seeking both to return and get a light. "You can call off any more of those night patrols. Sorry for ditching out the last few days, I just… something important came up."
Flint passes over the lighter, nodding. "Alright. Didn't find anything on them, anyway," the Galliard says, with another uptick of brows in question. "So?"
Riley's hands are a bit jittery, and it takes a few attempts at the lighter to coax a flame. She lights up, and transfers the cigarette from fingers to mouth, taking a long breath and closing her eyes. "'So' what?"
Flint is quiet a moment, putting away the phone and taking a long drag from his own cigarette. "What's the status on. On the wolf that was being, a serial killer if… if we're calling off those night patrols?"
The girl frowns, lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug, "Dead." She takes a long drag from the cigarette, her eyes slightly narrowed, "…I'm waiting on Kaz to get back to me to figure out what I'm supposed to do with her body with the Caern sealed and the bawn all brambled up. Mouse said she'd know the proper rites." She glances down to the cigarette between her lips, turns her head, and spits it onto the rooftop. "Still tastes like shit."
Flint nods. "Ah. Right," he acknowledges, and then does move over towards the garden area of the roof, sitting down next to one of the potted plants.
Riley turns to mash the cigarette butt into oblivion with the heel of her shoe, then ruffles her already-mussed hair, causing it to stick out in even stranger directions. "Yeah. Right. Anyway, that's all there is to say about it. It's handled."
Flint doesn't press the matter further, though he does draw out the phone again and tap out a message on the touchscreen. "You should get some sleep or something, maybe?" the galliard offers, in a quieter tone that makes it clear it's a suggestion, made out of general concern.
Text message to Alexandra: The person that was killing families is dead and handled. So you know. -Flint"We're Garou," Riley all but snaps, "It's not like I'm going to die of sleep deprivation, now am I? I'll sleep when I've seen to her remains, and not before." She shoves her hands deep into her coat pockets, stalking over to the edge of the roof and looking out over their meager view of the city.
Text message from Alexandra: Good to hear. Will get the story from you next time we get together.Flint looks back down at his phone, frowning at it for a moment and then putting it back in his pocket. There's just a nod, and Flint turns his attention to pulling a folding knife from his pocket and opening it. Riley isn't ignored, but the cliath's attention is no longer on the ragabash, either.
Riley lifts a hand to her face, taking a few steps back from the edge of the roof and allowing her fingers to squeeze at the bridge of her nose as she winces. "Damn it, I… look, sorry. I'm just…" She takes a shallow breath, "I'm just really tired. Obviously." She glances back to Flint, and her brows lift slightly at the knife. "…Did you get into whittling, or something?"
Flint turns it over in his hands a few time, though right now he just seems to be fidgeting with it. "It's alright," he responds, a little tense, and then continues, "no, I'm just fidgeting. All my woodwork's down in the workshop."
Riley's brows ease back out, but she's left with a baffled look on her face. "I'm too tired to shoot the shit, Flint. If you're going to fidget, or don't have something to say, would you mind leaving me? I've got a lot to think on, and it's nothing personal, but I'd rather do it alone."
Flint offers Riley a tense smile. "Okay," the teen says, moving back towards the stairwell door, and then downstairs. "Seeya."