Its not fair

[Gina McClaren]

Gina McClaren - Bronzeville (Southside) [Administrator] Gina McClaren, welcome to Bronzeville (Southside) (Now) [Administrator] Boy, welcome to Bronzeville (Southside) (Now) [Gina McClaren] *Its a squat yellow house in an area of Bronzeville that, while still dangerous and scummy, sports the occasional mowed lawn or white picket fence. People here still struggling to have a neighbourhood to be proud of, safe or not. Gina's little house has peeling yellow paint that might once have been cheery, a solid white door, and a tall greying clapboard fence that obscures the backyard from nosy neighbours. Gina jingles to the door to greet Boy, smiling softly as she steps out of the way, letting him come in and wander as he'd like. Curvy in a white cotton sundress, hair flopping about her hips in a long braid as she retreats to the kitchen.* Thank ye fer comin round darlin.. Ah've ginger loaf what needs come out the oven, jes make yerself at home an aul'll be out en a jiff.. aye? *The inside is cozy, or in less glowing terms, cramped. The interior decorating looks to have taken place in the seventies or eighties, given the palette of oranges and browns everywhere. Even the yellowing kitchen wall paper has orange floral accents. Olive fridge and stove monstrosities, chipped white cabinets. The house may be small, ugly and cramped, but it smells like heaven. Spices and Food. Open windows let a cool breeze whistle through. * [Boy] Boy had hardly given her a hello upon arrival. He'd meant to, really. He'd meant to greet her properly, thank her for the invitation, and give her the simple braid of multicolored string he'd made. The uktena seemed to like giving gifts. But seeing Gina's home was like walking into an amusement park. At least for Boy it was. There wasn't much to it, but what there was, he seemed genuinely interested in. Sitting on Gina's couch, he fought back a smile at the smell of baking, even though he wasn't sure what it was. He waited for her quietly, eyes casting everywhere. [Gina McClaren] *There are the scents of course. Old furniture. The couch that had seen many owners, many spills, and dirt. All the furniture that had come with the house. A lilac tree somewhere nearby, maybe in the backyard, fragrant through the side window. The scent of another wolf on the couch and around the house, but then what could he expect given Gina's reputation? Vaguelly familiar. A comforter tossed over the back of the couch seems out of place, definitely Gina's style, patched fabrics sewn together from everywhere. The only thing of her in the room, but for a pair of slippers, a crossword puzzle and an empty teacup. ... and a dented rubber chew-ball? There's rattling in the kitchen, a hiss of pain and running water, before Gina emerges with a plate of rich brown loaf slices topped with fresh whipped cream. She sets the plate down with a smile, plunking with a bounce and a Jiggle to sit beside the Uktena. * Ye like ginger darlin? [Boy] "Mm. You mean like gingerbread? Yeah I guess. Uh...I made something." He leans to once side, reaching into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out the flat braid of yellow, red, and blue thread. The colors weave in and out and around each other to make an attractive, if indefinite pattern. One end sports a loop, while the other has two braids of string for tying. "Its for you. For...I don't know what its for, actually. I was taught to give gifts when you go to someone else's house so." Boy ends the sentence with a shrug and hands the braid to Gina with both hands, as if presenting something grand. It really isn't that grand. Neat. But not grand. [Gina McClaren] *Gina smiles warmly, taking the braid and examining it. Tilting her head, she tries to figure out what to do with in a moment, before she comes upon a solution, tying it around her ankle with a nod.* Thank ye darlin. Ye didnae 'ave tae. *She's softly sincere. This the first gift anyone in Chicago's given her, after all. And she hadn't even kissed on Boy yet. A contented sigh as she gestures the plate of ginger loaf is for him, setting her foot back down on the floor.* Sae.. ah've heard tell yer keepin an angry Uktena under yer care, aye? [Boy] His eyebrows raised at the plate and he picked it up eagerly, holding it close to his chest and picking off large pieces with his fingers. Boy's expression moves from annoyed to perplexed at the mention of the 'angry uktena'. "This about those stupid rumors? How would i even get silver chains? And how would I tie anybody up without hurting myself? Much less, Muerta Fria. Though...I guess she's under my care. When she wants to be. And as much as she's said she doesn't need or want us, she still accepts hospitality." [Gina McClaren] *Easy laughter, Gina shaking her head and watching Boy with eyes alight in mischief.* Och, ah hear yer quite the hand wi' silver chains darlin.... Nae Nae. Reckon ah kain she's fine, she was here a few days ago, had some samosa's an then thought aboot chuckin em up entae me sink. Dae ye kain she's wi' child? [Boy] He chews more slowly now. Or perhaps it was just more thoughtfully. "She doesn't have a mate." Comes his simple non answer. And suddenly the remaining slice of ginger loaf becomes very interesting. [Gina McClaren] Aye. *She watches Boy, shaking her head.* Ah'm nae trying tae tease ye fer a yes oor a nae darlin. Ah Kain she's wi' child. Knew weeks ago. Offered her a preggers test an' aul. She didnae thenk she could 'ave a child, on account o tha scar on her belly. Sae, figured nae harm en shaggin hard wi' tha felly she were livin wi' aye? Kin o another tribe. Now ee's aft disappeared somewheres, an she's wi' a babe she doesnae wan at aul. [Gina McClaren] *Gina rubs her forehead. This was a right predicament. Soledad with a baby was like.. a bear with a pet salmon.* [Boy] By the time Gina's finished Boy's stopped eating altogether. His eyebrows furrowed in obvious confusion. "She...she doesn't want it?" [Gina McClaren] Nae darlin. She's o' the mind tha effen et survives et survives, an effen et doesnae et doesnae. Either way, she'll be gi'en her babe away. Ah asked effen she was gintae gi' et tae yer own self, as ah kain ye've a wee Uktena kin fer a mate, aye? But she reckons ye tae aren't mooch enterested en 'avin children o any sort round. Sae she'd like be gi'en up the child tae her auld sept oor some sooch. *A deep breath, narrow shoulders heavy with the weight of the topic they speak on. She picks up her tea cup only to realize its empty, frown, and set it back down.* Ah thenk the maternal instinct skepped tha wan, darlin. [Boy] "What do you mean she doesn't want it?" Still hung up on the last question, the Rage rolls off Boy like a pot over-boiling. He set the plate back down loudly and his hands clutched at his knees, knuckles growing white. "No. She can't...she can't just abandon it. And she can't...shit. SHIT! Its not her. Its not herself. We thought...Wyrmbreaker thought she would be a danger to herself but...its not her own life she's risking." A hand slaps hard at his own thigh.

[Gina McClaren]

*Gina's posture changes, spine creeping stiffer, hands upturning, responding almost on instinct to the sudden flare and jolt of Boy's rage.* Aye darlin. We'll take care of et.. aye.. figure somethen out? Nae need tae Quarrel.. *Her words are soft, warm, purposefully full of long soothing sounds. She knows full well the effect of her voice on people, bending it now to placate an angry Uktena.*

[Boy]

His eyes moved like flames, flickering over the interior of Gina's apartment. That's not what they were seeing though. They were seeing connections, angles, and possibilities. "I told Muerte Fria that I wouldn't force her to stay with us. And I've told my kin and pack to avoid conflict with her. I've avoided conflict with her, thinking she just needed to be around us, to see how much better we are together. But...a real family doesn't let something like this just slide. I have to talk to her about it." He was steadier with Gina's voice lulling him. Calmer, leaning forward now with his elbows on his knees. But he certainly wasn't happy about any of it. "She'll probably try to rip my head off."

[Gina McClaren]

*Her hand stops just short of his shoulder. Dropping as suddenly as it'd approached. This one was not going to appreciate a soothing hand on his back. Gina frowns as Boy mentions violence.* Ah tried tae suggest she mayhaps dae scoutin missions an' sooch.. She was 'avin nae o et. .... wha will ye say?

[Boy]

"Don't know. Something? Nothing. I have no fucking idea." Perhaps he really didn't. He just sits there, eyes dancing with thought. Seeing things that couldn't be seen. And then he says. "Maybe I'll tell her about my mom. Maybe I'll tell her how much that child will hate her if she abandons it." And absently he brings a hand up to wipe at the sudden foamy spit that appeared at the side of his mouth when he said the word 'hate' in the venomous way that he did.

[Gina McClaren]

Boy.. *She sighs quietly, trying to draw him from his thoughts. Far too dangerous to touch him now. Not with the venom in his tone, and the frantic twitching of his eyes.* We kinfolk.. tha's wha we're for..aye? Help raise up the wee ones? Mayhaps, ye can find her child's Da? Sol's a garou an' an ahroun asides... Unstable, by aul accounts. Would ye wish tha on a child anyhow?

[Boy]

Oh there was no stopping those dancing eyes. But they did slow as Boy's thoughts turned from frantic worry to true and earnest contemplation. "But..." The memories that swam through his head, the slow realizations that had taken years up to this point to come about, they would mean nothing here and now. It was the wrong place. It was the right context. He was so quiet, hardly breathing, eyes hardly opened, and hardly wet but wet nonetheless. "...Its not fair."

[Gina McClaren]

Nae. *Oh fuckit. She warns him by moving slowly, reaching quietly to draw him close, if he'll allow it.* Ets nae darlin. Ah'm Saerry.

[Boy]

At her touch his own back stiffens. His eyes open slowly, and turn to her. Red rimmed. Hard glared. "I'm fine" he says softly. It didn't sound hyper defensive either. It sounded like he was ready to go. His standing confirmed this. "Still...I think I ought to say something to her. Thanks, Gina. Thanks for inviting me and talking to me and all. You've got a real nice place."

[Gina McClaren]

Aye darlin. Ah'm Saerry. *her eyes are dark and softly brown, expression worried as Boy rises. Gina stands too, looking up at him.* Jes.. fer as mooch as ets sad she doesnae wan' a child. Reckon et'd be worse fer the wee one tae grow up wi'oot a folk tha cares about et.. even effen tha folk esnae hes or hers Mam. Baby stell 'as a Da, aye? mayhaps ye can find hem?

[Boy]

"You said he disappeared. Does she have any idea where he went?" He was avoiding looking at her now, standing with his arms crossed as he eased his way to the front door. "Any idea what his name is? Or maybe I should just ask her."

[Gina McClaren]

Jackie, I thenk she said peaches. Ah could be mis'remembrin tho. Hold on a mite darlin.... *She sings, hustling to the kitchen and emerging with a plastic bag, in the process of wrapping a whole ginger loaf in it. She presses it into his hands and offers Boy a rueful smile. Sensing his need to escape.* Thank ye fer the anklet darlin, tell yer lass, an tha Fang o yers hello. Now, Ye've thengs tae dae, aye? Go on. Bugger aft. *She jerks her chin at the door.*

[Boy]

"Yeah, I'll do that." He smiles softly, nodding to her and saluting with the wrapped ginger loaf. And then he's out the door.

[Gina McClaren]

*She watches him move down the block, catching herself worrying about gangbangers. She laughs at herself, shaking her head and shutting the door.*