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Flint Madden ([personal profile] flint_garou) wrote2012-01-11 06:00 pm
Entry tags:

Not crazy, not dead.

Sometimes things happen in a more … eventful manner.
11 January, 2012
The moon is in the waning Full (Ahroun) Moon phase (82% full).


At the edge of the sidewalk leading out of Harbor Park, the only thing out of place is a cardboard box with the words 'Know Your Future — $3' on a sign hanging from it, and a couple of loose tarot cards on the ground. One's been stepped on, and the other's torn in half. Otherwise, it's late, the sky's darkening, and there's no one around.

The glow of a cigarette announces Mouse's presence. She's on her regular patrol, hand not occupied with the cigarette stuffed into the pocket of her new black duster. As she nears Harbor Park, and thus the box, she slows—gradually at first, and then moreso when she realizes what the box is. She gives it and the abandoned cards a careful, calculating look, then straightens and turns her head, peering into the gloom for some sign of its owner.

Solsiva steps out of the tenement with the cub in tow, wearing a huge marshmallow puff jacket and her expression is bland. She takes a moment to glance up and down the street while she holds the door for him. "We could get some pizza while we're out. Should stop by Mr. Jacob's after we do a circuit around the park and I'm already famished."

Coming out of the park about the same time is a familiar face. Devon, in his typical hands-in-pockets semi-slouch walk, follows a path that eventually connects to the sidewalk. Like Mouse, he's spotted the cardboard box, brow furrowing in something near to recognition. His gaze roams over the placement, the scattered cards, then lifts his head to survey the area, pausing for a moment when he spots his elder.

Flint nods, hands shoved into the pockets of his own jackets against the relative chill. "Yeah," is the assent, before he spots Devon, and then Mouse, at the edge of the park. The boy bounces on his heels a little as they start out.

There's a heavy sigh from the tall girl as she watches Flint bounce, her hands going into her pockets to pull her jacket tighter around her girth, though it still refuses to actually close. "Lets go say 'hi'." She checks the traffic before she leads the way across the street with a backwards glance to make sure he's coming along.

Mouse looks up at Devon when his movement attracts her. Unfortunately, sunglasses are not the greatest for looking around in the dark, even with street lamps. She tugs them down to her nose, librarian-esque, and puts a finger to her lips. Then she turns to again look for any sign of the owner of the cards.

There's a dip of the Ahroun's head in understanding. His shoulders are given to shrug as he glances behind him, the way he'd come from, then with a small turn, the way he'd been going. Devon's gaze touches on Flint and Solsiva, then shifts away as he closes the distance between himself and Mouse, tipping his head to indicate the pair approaching from the Tenement.

There's no sign of the owner, but Mouse does spot a guy about a block and a half down running out of an alleyway, going so fast he falls on his face. He scrambles back up and runs the run of the panicked. The streets are not-busy enough that there aren't many bystanders to hassle him. Or stop him. Or help him.

Mouse starts to turn her head toward her other tribemates, but that movement from the man has her dropping the finger from her lips (and the cigarette. It's unceremoniously squashed in her palm. Ouch). She shoves her glasses back into place and launches into a quick sprint. At first it might seem she's going to chase him, but once she reaches the alleyway she skids to an abrupt halt, slips one hand under her coat, and leans around to look into it.

Flint follows quietly, before finally taking a few steps ahead of Solsiva when they near the cardboard sign. His brows, too, furrow in recognition, until Mouse starts to run. A faint glance is all the boy spares for his other two tribemates, before following at a little less of a sprint.

Solsiva is not given to running. Even now all she does is trot after her Elder and ends up panting slightly and pink cheeked for the effort.

The Theurge only gets a couple of steps away before Devon takes off after her at a run, sparing no more than a passing glance toward his newly arriving tribesmates. He skids to a stop just before running over Mouse, sinking into a slight crouch though he watches her for a signal to move.

As Mouse nears, there's the tell-tale wheeze of the dying that comes out of that alleyway. There's a body with blood still oozing from clawmarks that tear both clothes and skin, and tarot cards everywhere along with the shredded remains of a bag, clothes, papers, fluffs of black fur, even a damn folding chair. The dude's not quite dead yet, but is past the point of saving. And, huddled against the back of the alleyway is a girl. Naked. Face-down. Covered in blood. And unconscious, though not for long.

Mouse swears under her breath at the sight. She turns back to her oncoming tribe, and again there's the finger to the mouth gesture. "Solsiva," she says in a low voice. "Follow Running Man and see where he goes, and if there's anything about him that's gonna cause a Veil issue. Don't hurt him, try not to be seen. Flint, with her. If you can't catch him, come back. Devon, I'm gonna need you if she wakes up pissed." She doesn't wait for acknowledgement—she pushes into the alley, stepping carefully, and as quickly as possible, over to the dying man. "Shh, shh."

Solsiva gives a single nod before she's off trotting faster back after Running Man. Useful thing having so much leg, even if you aren't the fastest.She isn't waiting to see if Flint comes, apparently expecting it.

Devon gives a small nod, straightening to follow Mouse into the alley. He looks back only once to see Sol and Flint running off. Returning to the situation at hand, his gaze falls on the dying man briefly, then goes to the girl on the ground. "Looks like that homeless girl Kevin and Flint and I saw in the park the other day," he says in a tone just above a whisper. "If the cards and box are any clue."

Flint turns on his heel, taking off at Solsiva at a run, without a minute of delay. It's not hard for the boy to keep up, jumping over the few uneven areas of sidewalk.

It is, indeed, the homeless girl. That much is obvious. And she's stirring, picking herself up. She's not awake yet, and not really conscious of her surroundings, but getting there.

Running Man is, actually, not too far away. He's a younger guy, mid-30s, but he's crouched down about three blocks away, clutching at his jacket above his heart. There's a small crowd of people gathered around, one on a cell phone, but he's not talking about anything yet.

Mouse makes a grab at one of those fluffs of fur, stuffing it into her pocket as she goes, but her focus, for the moment, is on the man. "Hey," she says, low. "Called the paramedics, it's gonna be alright, yeah? What's your name?" Blatant lies, ahh. She slants a glance toward Devon, but only briefly.

Solsiva slows down to a walk after she eventually gets over there, putting on her best concerned face which still happens to only be mildly slow as she peers over people. "Is he ok? What happened?" She looks particularly at the person on the phone.

Flint lags a pace behind Solsiva, moving a few steps to blend with the rest of the crowd, the boy's brows still furrowed in vague and general concern anyway.

Devon pulls off his jacket, ignoring the chill air, approaching the girl with muted caution. "Easy there," he says, still quietly, "you'll be alright. We're here to help you." The jacket is pulled open a little by the lapels, held so that he can drape it over the girl's shoulders.

The man's mouth gapes like a fish. He tries to talk, but all that comes out are bubbles of frothy blood. Punctured lung, no doubt. His eyes are wide and panicked, but he's past struggling.

The girl doesn't seem to snap to reality until Devon's jacket touches her — she snaps around, wideeyed, but then tears almost immediately well up and she starts sobbing, words breaking from her lips incomprehensibly. "He wouldn't—I told him—they wouldn't stop—oh god oh god oh—" And then it falls into sobs that wrack her shoulders, and she crumples into a heap.

Running Man, however, looks like he's trying to have a heart attack. He gesticulates wildly down the street. The one on the phone — a middle aged man with a concerned woman hanging onto his arm — just shrugs at Solsiva. "I don't know. I think he's having a heart att—paramedics? Yes, east Bridge Street, near Harbor Park—" The woman, meanwhile, adds in, "He did say his friend was attacked. He can't say where."

"Shh, okay," Mouse says, in response to the man. Something about her, something that isn't her voice or her expression, but in her body language, likely only noticeable to Devon, given as he's not, you know, dying or crying, seems to turn very cold. "It's cool. Help's coming. Close your eyes, it'll just be a few minutes." She again looks toward Devon and the girl, and says, low, "We need to get her out of here fast. Grab the papers and the bag, if you can."

"All I saw was him running, maybe he got spooked by some homeless guy in the alley," Solsiva offers doubtfully as she shrugs, glancing at the guy in question. She tries to calm him some with a calming sound, "The medics are coming, they'll sort it out. Relax."

Flint shrugs, opinion kept to himself as he looks up at Solsiva.

Crying girls is not something Devon's equipped to deal with, as implied by a look of uncertainty when Rowan breaks down in tears. He glances toward Mouse, looking for help or maybe a suggestion. He's only too grateful to leave his jacket behind at the elder's instruction and set to quickly gathering papers and whatever else he can.

Solsiva suddenly jerks to a stop, glancing over her shoulder back the way they had come with an unspoken question that has her looking at the guy with definite suspicion.

The man really is past listening to Mouse. He tries to say something — perhaps in general, perhaps to her — but his breath is getting shallower and shallower.

Rowan, meanwhile, still bawls. She's got her face covered in her hands and doesn't seem to even notice her things being scooped up.

The guy Sol's dealing with, however, is starting to catch his breath. "—she just went ballistic," he gasps. "I think he's— he didn't come out— Someone needs to call—cops!" Which has the few bystanders looking around uneasily. A couple leave; no one wants to be on the scene during Trouble.

Mouse's concern with the dying man seems to die away entirely—like a mask being discarded, except that the expression replaced is one that's impossible to accurately read, like she's traded one mask for another. She straightens back up and moves toward Rowan. "Hey," still that low tone. "I know, I know, don't worry. We're going to get you somewhere safe, but we need you to help us, alright? Breathe deep." To Devon, "No good to leave this guy here either, if we can help it."

Flint falls back to next to Solsiva, bouncing impatiently on his heels. A nod answers her unspoken question, though, and the boy's brows furrow further, as he turns about.

Devon, without ceremony, stuffs the papers, any cards he managed to collect, perhaps even some fur into the bag. And once he's satisfied with that job, the bag is passed off to Mouse as he looks to the dying man. "Yeah," he agrees, drawing the word out. He bites down on his lower lip in consideration. "Where… should he go?"

"What were you doing?" Solsiva asks pointedly and blunt as she looks at the guy, apparently trusting the cub to go.

Rowan likely doesn't even register Mouse or Devon beyond bodies that aren't trying to hurt her. "—I think I killed him oh god did I kill him—" And cue that repeating about five times, until she sucks in a ragged deep breath that only ends in a dry retch that doesn't do anything beyond send her body in a lurch. She's started shaking, too. Shock, most likely.

The Running Man stammers. "Nothing! We wasn't doing anything! Just going home!" It's such a broken lie that it even causes some of the others to hesitate and Look at him.

Solsiva curls her lip in disgust as she stands up and moves away as she makes her own conclusion, "Gross. Whatever, hope you do have a heart attack." She gives the other people a look that is a clear 'And you want to help him?'.

Mouse begins shrugging out of her coat, "Shh, shh," she urges, despite the fact that the poor girl probably isn't registering it at all. "Everything's gonna be fine now. Here. Put this on." She doesn't actually take Devon's coat away from Rowan, but she does ease her coat into the girl's hands. Her bloody hands. Alas, that will require some washing. She does take a moment to pull the bottom of her shirt over the now-revealed gun that's stuck into the back of her pants. To Devon, "My car would be best. Are the streets still clear?" That the man may not be fully dead yet doesn't seem to be bothering her.

Amidst the other people who don't want to be there if trouble does come, it wasn't difficult for Flint to skirt away, crossing the street before making his way to the opposite the alleyway, then back across. "Not precisely," Flint says, as he makes his reappearance. Minus Solsiva.

Devon looks up when Flint speaks, then slants a look toward the mouth of the alley. "How far away's your car, Mouse," he asks, stooping to pull at the dying man's shoulders. "Might be able to …make him look like a drunk or something." Maybe. "…Hide the blood somehow."

The Running Man glowers at Solsiva, but there are a few people who waver a bit. "Maybe you should call the cops too, honey," the woman murmers to her partner, man-on-phone, and he makes a bit of an indecisive noise.

Rowan, meanwhile, reflexively grabs at the coat as it's shoved in her hands, and this serves to pale her a little. "I— I'm naked." This is said with a flat, small voice, like someone stating the world is round, and she quickly starts wrapping herself up in it. On top of Devon's coat.

Mouse nods at Flint, then at Devon. "That's what I was thinking, yeah. Can you two do it between you? It's just a block or two, behind the tenement. You'd need to avoid street lights." She turns back to Rowan. "Yeah," she says, as if the girl had just noted it was cold out. "Just sort've pull it tight in the front, we've got clothes at our place. Can you stand?" She hefts the bag over her shoulder. "We've got your stuff too, so don't worry about that."

"There're people, three blocks the way he was running," Flint says, moving wordlessly to help Devon nonetheless. "Solsiva was still there."

"Take your coat off," Devon advises, looking at Flint while using the dying man's shirt to wipe at the froth on his chin. "Put it over him to help hide the blood. We'll carry him on our shoulders, under his arms. —And stick to the shadows when we move."

Solsiva glares right back at the man, still disgusted. "Only if they're going to arrest this creeper."

Rowan wobbles. The events are lost on her, though she widens her eyes at Mouse. "I don't want to go to jail!" the girl says again in that flat, fuzzy voice. She slowly gets to her feet, acting on command — it's likely that if a talking pumpkin was giving her commands she'd be following them, such is the state of shock she's in. She at least has the sense to pull the coat tight — Mouse may be small, but the girl is thin as a rail, so it isn't difficult to get it tight.

Running Man is starting to look uncomfortable, and starts just trying to leave in all the fuss.

"No jail," Mouse says. Her tone is all reassuring, calm and quiet. "Promise. You're fine. No one's gonna blame you for this. It isn't your fault. We're just going to get you somewhere safe where there's clothes, and a hot shower." She eases to her feet along with the girl, one hand coming out of her pants pocket to toss the keys to Flint. "Don't get any ideas," she tells him, though there's a flicker of humor over her masked expression, there and gone. "The trunk's already lined with plastic, just stuff him in." And then, as an afterthought, and not one she seems to put much importance in, "Make sure he's actually a body before that."

Flint catches the keys, jacket picked up off the ground to follow Devon's instructions. "Yeah." Keys are shoved down into a pocket of his jeans as he starts to help Devon.

"Got it," Devon says after a slight hesitation, glancing once more toward Mouse. Then he hefts the dying man upward, holding him upright. One hand reaches around to help Flint straighten the jacket and hide what can be hidden of the gore. He nods, once satisfied, and tips his head in signal for him and the cub to get moving and starts walking toward the mouth of the alley.

Solsiva continues to glare at the guy, silently encouraging him to squirm like the worm she thinks him to be.

The man's unconscious by this point. Once they lift him up, one can see a rend from collar bone to pubic bone, and… well. It's not pretty.

Rowan, meanwhile, continues shivering. Tears still flow freely down her face, but she seems as anxious to get out of here as anyone else. Likely, the 'who the hell are you people' will start later, but, well, when one's homeless, friendly people are rare.

Running Man continues to slink, limp, and slither away while the people consider what's to be done. Down the road, an EMS truck turns the corner.

Mouse makes encouraging gestures with her hands and arms, walking alongside Rowan but never actually touching her. "Yeah, this way. Come on, it's not far." She also tries to encourage the poor kid to move faster, but she doesn't push.

Flint is as quick as one can be when one is helping move a deadweight body, though he lets Devon lead the way as well.

Not well versed in the ways of sneaking after someone, Solsiva doesn't really try to as she keeps a distant sort of eye on him. The EMS is noted and it reminds her to look back down the road to see if there's anything she can see by the alley just then.

There isn't much that can be done about the deep cuts through the man, and so Devon guides him and Flint into the darkest parts of the sidewalk. His eyes are quick, though, constantly moving and careful to skirt the street lamps as much as possible as he directs the way toward the tenement.

Rowan sort of stumbles along, letting the others guide her. She could probably be mistaken for a drunk kid, at this point. Well. Aside from the blood.

The man slinks along, heading toward an old ramshackle apartment complex not far away.

Mouse leads Rowan along a slightly different route from the two other Walkers. Across the street when she can, or along a side street or two. It helps that she's in her own neighborhood, very familiar with every little turn. Occasionally, she makes more encouraging noises to the girl, but says nothing significant.

Flint doubles his step occasionally to keep up, or to skip over a bad section of sidewalk, mouth set in a thin line. When they do get to Mouse's car, though, the boy lets go of his part of the weight of the body, digging the keys out of his pocket in order to unlock the trunk.

Solsiva keeps a watch on the guy until he actually heads into the building if he's going to.

Devon keeps watch the entire way, and still once he and Flint have reached the car. The transfer of weight seems of little burden, likewise depositing the dying man into the trunk of the car doesn't seem too much of a task for him. Reaching into his back pocket, the Ahroun pulls out a butterfly knife and casts a sidelong glance to Flint. That glance turns into a longer look when he checks to assure the way is still clear before checking for any life left in the man.

Rowan isn't hard to herd, nor press to the tenement without incident. A few people glance over, but, well, bystander effect. Running Man flees without causing a scene, buzzing a number into the main door and then slinking inside.

Dying Man, however, does indeed have some life in him yet… but just barely. Clinging on, beyond help, his breath rattles in his chest.

Mouse, having given her keys to her two tribemates, does not have the key to open the Tenement. That's okay though, she raps several times on the door, gestures from herself to the girl for the camera, and waits for the door to unlock on its own. Huzzah for the watch.

Flint leans against the edge of the car, simply waiting. A shrug is given, as the teen waits for the Ahroun to do what is necessary.

Devon glances around once again, slowly flipping the blade free. He mutters to himself, low, likely something about getting his hands dirty or asking for forgiveness, as his gaze settles on the man in the trunk again. Despite the dispassionate set of his expression, there's no hesitation to pushing the knife into the man's throat, at a point just above his collar bone and angled toward his heart, a point that'll cause him to bleed out in a matter of minutes. A twist and a pull seals the act before the knife is pulled free and a nod given to Flint. "Close it up, go home."

The man gurgles, eyes jerking open in a silent plea before life fades. He's done.

Rowan, for her part, limps in after Mouse, hugging the coat to her and looking sad and miserable. Her tears have stopped, but the droop to her features suggests something that'll take far longer to stop.

Mouse steps in through the front door, leading a rather blood covered girl who, on second glance, appears to be wearing Mouse's new duster and nothing else at all. She holds the door open for the girl while looking back out into the street as best she can with sunglasses on. Once Rowan's inside, she shuts the door. "There, alright. Now just hang on for a moment, and I'll grab you some clothes. Everything's fine, trust me. You aren't in trouble." She turns for the laundry room.

Rowan looks shell-shocked, completely and utterly. She doesn't move to run away or really do anything at all. She stands in the middle of a room, hugging Mouse's poor coat around her, and maintaining a rather blank expression.

Flint closes the trunk, moving around to lock it. He looks over his shoulder at Devon, after, a shrug in silent question, but not waiting for the other either. It doesn't take long for Flint to go around join Mouse and the girl at the Tenement, the boy quick to figure out which one is the key to the front door, stepping in quietly, Mouse's keys in his hands. A nod, and a faint smile are offered to the girl. "It's alright," he says, quiet. "It really is."

Devon folds his knife a bit faster than he'd opened it with, returning it to his back pocket. Then he's moving quickly, following Flint around to the front of the Tenement and inside. He looks from the girl to the rest of the seating area, then angles a glance to find Mouse.

Mouse returns after only a minute or so, bearing ugly, large grey sweats and a pair of white socks. Ugly, but they're clothes. "Okay. That room back there? It's got a sink, and some sponges. We've got a shower upstairs, but right now, why don't you take these, and go in there and see what you can scrub off? That way you won't get stuff all over these clothes too."

Rowan takes the clothes and just looks at them for a moment, and then follows Mouse's gesture. Then, she looks to Flint, and then Devon, and then just squeaks, "Okay," in a dull, barely audible voice. And then, she limps thataway, not seeming too concerned over being in a house of strangers. The door closes.

Flint holds the keys out on one palm, offering them back to Mouse when she comes back out. "Here," the boy says, quiet, half his gaze following the girl.

"It's taken care of," Devon says when Rowan takes herself from the room. His hands jam into his pockets, flicking a glance toward the room the girl disappeared into then back to Mouse, brows pinching together.

Mouse nods at both boys. "Good job, guys. You did that perfect. One of you want to volunteer to duck out and grab those tarot cards in a few, once things are calm? Not sure if they're savable, but she might want them anyway. And less evidence, the better."

Slug wanders down one of the halls at a pace far brisker than he normally walks, his boots thumping rather distinctly on the floors with every step. His hood is up, his head is lowered, and his face largely remains hidden by the shadows cast by his apparel. He doesn't ask what's going on, he merely stands within visual range, his head turning from side to side on occasion.

Flint looks over at Devon, rather than precisely answering Mouse's question himself, before blowing on his hands a little and shoving them into the pockets of his jeans.

Shaking his head, Devon turns for the door again. Flint earns a dark look in passing, though the Ahroun says nothing at all. He pauses briefly, long enough to let himself out, the door closing semi roughly behind him.

Mouse watches Devon go, then gives Flint a thin smile. "Guess you just volunteered to clean up all the blood smears she's probably leaving in there."

"Cleaning's fine," Flint says with a shrug and a grin, no argument whatsoever. "It's just cold out there." Especially considering that his jacket got left on a dead man.

Mouse gives Flint a baffled look. "It's not even below freezing."

"If you're afraid of a little cold, I'd hate to trust you with my back in battle." Slug comments in a low tone on the loud side of a murmur. "What happened?"

Door creaks, girl exits. She looks a lot better, and she's holding both jackets in her hands. Her eyes are very red — she was probably crying more in there — but she looks sobered. She silently trods up to Mouse and holds out the jackets. "Thank you." Her voice is quiet, barely squeaked out.

Mouse takes the jackets, and then, in return, she offers over the hastily restuffed bag. "It's okay," she tells Rowan, rather quietly again. "You did great, and they're gone. What's your name?" She lays the two coats over her arm, and, of all things, she still has her sunglasses on. To Slug, she says, "New cub. Two assholes made the mistake of jumping her, looked like."

Flint raises a palm to his forehead and pushes at his brow. Glance goes over to Mouse. "It's cold compared to California," he says to Slug or to Mouse or no one in particular, quiet. Hands shove in his pockets, and the boy looks over at Rowan, ducking a bit of a nod. "Hey."

Rowan takes the bag, looking at it rather glumly. It's torn in a couple of places. "Rowan," she says, gaze slipping over to Slug, and she stares for a heartbeat before jerking her gaze away. Her brows furrow a bit. "Thanks. For getting me out of there. I— if—" She wobbles a moment, and her eyes water again. "They were trying to steal everything. I told them to go away. I told them. I told them that. I only had enough for dinner tonight and I told them that too but they just laughed and now I ki—" She chokes on that word and shuts up. Flint is looked to, and then she really seems to notice him, as a spark of uneasy recognition flickers across her features.

"You killed them? No. No you didn't." Slug waves a hand at the woman. Slug purposefully keeps his head lowered and his face turned to it's most favorable side, not giving the new cub more than a passing glance, if that. "Killing is something you do on purpose. Killing is something you remember. You? You don't remember much, what you do remember is bits and pieces. You didn't kill anything, and you couldn't, not even if you tried. Your heart isn't hard enough, your arms, not strong enough. The Beast did it."

The Walker Theurge gives Basil a look, mouth setting in disapproval. "Do you remember how it happened?" Mouse asks. Her eyes are obscured by those sunglasses, but she doesn't sound as though this is a thing that she finds alarming, or even unusual. "How you killed them? Most of us don't, the first time. You're with friends, Rowan. Take it slow."

Rowan shuts her eyes hard, fighting what looks like nausea. "They tried to— they grabbed my bag. They grabbed my arm. I told them to stop. I was scared. I ran in the alley because I thought there might be a door I could get into, or a ladder, or something, I—" She swallows, hard, eyes opening and brimmed with tears. "I got mad. I don't remember. I just— I reached for him and my hands were black and had claws and he ripped apart and then I woke up and I don't—oh god I'm going crazy, this is all crazy, I'm dead and I'm crazy—"

"You're not crazy," Flint says, quietly. "And you're not dead, and when we go upstairs, there's dinner, too." His tone of voice indicates that he knows how important it can be, before he looks over at Mouse and Slug, letting them continue.

"If you're dead and this is your idea of Heaven, I'd hate to see your Hell." Slug walks deeper into the lobby and reaches into his pockets, but doesn't take anything from them. "You smoke? You drink?" There is a pause, but then he starts again. "You read tarot cards? Do you believe in them? What the cards mean, what the readings themselves mean?"

Mouse makes hushing noises again. "No no no, I know that's what it seems like, right now, but Rowan—Rowan, look at me—you're safe. You're alive, and you're safe. Breathe with me, nice and slow." She inhales slowly, as demonstration, holds it a moment, and then exhales. "…I'm Mouse. This is Flint, and Slug. We've got a whole lot to talk to you about."

Minutes have passed since the Ahroun's departure, but now he's returned with a fistful of cards and buzzes the door.

Flint quietly and unobtrusively makes his way over to let Devon in. "Thanks," he says, barely audible, as he lets him in, but it seems to be genuine.

Rowan scowls at Slug, but the expression softens. "Sometimes," she admits, and she doesn't look like there's any way she could be over eighteen. "I—the cards. I like them. I don't think they're real. They're—" She pauses, swallows. "—but sometimes they tell truth." And then she looks to Mouse, looking to each person as they are introduced. "Who are you people? Why didn't you call the cops? I—" And then she stops there, but the complete lost, sad puppy look is there. Her arms fold and her shoulders hunch, making them look very bony underneath her clothes.

Mouse pulls Devon's coat off of her arm and holds it out. "Thanks, Devon. You did great, I was impressed." She looks back to Rowan. "Well, that is a very long, unbelievable story. One that really should be told over hot chocolate to help it go down. Sound good to you?"

Devon says nothing to the cub after being let in, though the look he gives Flint speaks volumes of "Fuck you". He pushes past the younger boy and strides to Mouse, Slug, and Rowan. The cards are offered to the elder as he speaks in quiet, tense tones, "S'all I could find. Put the box in a dumpster." He looks at his jacket, taking it slowly and with an even quieter 'thanks'.

Slug considers her words, his proximity such that he has to work to keep his scars hidden. Even then she can likely see the traces running down his jaw, one of the few pieces of his face that's in the light. When Devon comes in, his snaps his fingers and gestures for the teen to come to him. "It's been some time since I had a reading, but I still remember a few things. I'd be inclined to agree with you, with what I know of the world. Hey, Dev, could you let me see those cards for a second?"

Flint pauses, looking out the window some rather than rejoining the group for a long moment. When he does, the boy's gaze remains mostly on his feet, hands shoved in his pockets again.

Rowan hesitates, and then nods weakly to Mouse, trying a smile and half failing. To Slug, she looks a tad anxious when he asks to see them, but doesn't protest, really.

Mouse takes the cards from Devon, and offers them to Rowan. "They're her cards," she says to Slug. "Ask her. Unless you'd like to put on some hot water? Hot plate's in the laundry room."

Slug tilts his head in Mouse's direction with a wry grin, then turns his head to look at Rowan again. "If you'd indulge me. Won't take but a minute, otherwise, another time."

Flint looks over at Mouse, before dropping his shoulders. "I'll go put on the water, Mouse-rhya," he says, quietly. A faint smile is offered to Rowan before the boy excuses himself towards the laundry room.

"I'm going upstairs," Devon states, to no one in particular. His eyes flick toward Rowan briefly, but he says nothing more. Pulling his jacket up onto his shoulders, he turns for the stairs.

Rowan takes the cards, which are really rough, with likely some missing now. She looks mournfully at them, and then hands them over. "I'll have to … get new ones anyway. Here."

Mouse nods at Devon, and then flashes Flint a brief, approving look as he volunteers. "Well, let's see," she says, reaching up to touch, but not yet remove, her sunglasses. "This is always the most awkward part. I'll just get it over with. We're werewolves. So're you. Feel free to get your laughter out now, as you like." She seems perfectly amenable to the idea of Rowan laughing at it.

"Mouse would be glad to buy you a new set, but there is something to be said for holding onto the old." Slug takes the cards gently, his hand barely brushing her's in taking them. He looks at Mouse, then back to Rowan, and starts to carefully shuffle the cards with his eyes set upon them. "I'd always hoped that my cards would be something nice, like Strength. But they weren't. Some cards I don't remember, but the big ones I did. The Devil, The Tower, The Fool, The Hanged Man. Generally not the best cards… I wonder what yours is?" He looks down at the cards in his hand, halting his shuffle, then holds them out to her. "Draw the the top one'n turn it over. Let's see the truth."

Rowan watches Slug, but listens to Mouse. And, at the announcement… well. She just stares for a moment, and then her brows wrinkle a whole lot. "—what? Werewolves are stories." And then, suspiciously, "Are you making fun of me? Because of the claws? I saw what I saw." Slug's offering snags her attention after a moment, and, though she looks a little aggravated due to the perceived slight, she does flip the top card.

Mouse says, simply, "Nope," and pulls off her sunglasses, tucking them away. There's no real missing her yellow, wolf-shaped eyes. "And yeah, werewolves are stories. Turns out, lots of things that are stories also happen to be true. I can show you, if you like."

The card that's turned over is Judgment, and when it's revealed, Slug's face remains as still as it has been for the duration of their conversation. "Can't say I ever got that one." Slug offers the cards to her, glancing over at Mouse. "You'll have a busy day tomorrow. If you'd like to be alone for a while, theres a bed with your name on it. You'll need your rest for tomorrow anyways."

Flint makes his way back out into the main lobby at this point, bearing four cups of hot chocolate. They're set on the nearby coffee table, wordlessly but with a grin, before the boy grabs one and disappears back to the laundry room.

"I don't want to be alone," Rowan says quickly — too quickly. She looks to the hot cocoa, and then warily to Mouse. She doesn't answer, curiosity and suspicion warring.

Mouse takes up one of the cocoas, and gestures to Rowan. "C'mon, downstairs is best for this."