Happy Birthday, Marrick

[Drew Roscoe]

It took up until December for an appropriate sort of chill to set into Chicago, and even then the only thing that really made it chilly was the continual breeze and occasional hat-grabbing gusts that would sweep through the city, magnified and streamlined into something harder in alleyways and along streets downtown where the buildings tickled the bellies of the heavy clouds that were hanging overhead. Though it was day, and though clouds would obscure it even if it wasn't, the moon was full. This would eventually matter in one way or another, it always did when you were somehow related to werewolves. Drew stood still at the edge of a trail, rubbing the side of her face with one hand and holding a paper cup with a white plastic lid on the top of it that had steam billowing out of the small sip hole. She was dressed in a light-and-dark blue wool hat with little braided bits that dangled from the earflaps to fall down onto her shoulders, with a thick gray zip-up hoodie on along with jeans and fairly new looking sneakers. She was facing out from the path, into the large stretch of grass that, on warmer days, would have people picnicking, playing frisbee, and wearing out their dogs on. Something about her demeanor said that she was waiting for someone or something. Her mouth was tense. She'd been like this for about fifteen minutes, though, if she was waiting on someone they were late. She shivered once and took a drink from her cup.

[Laila Frolich]

~It is cold. A solid fact that is not lost on Laila as she moves down one of the many paths crisscrossing through Grant Park. In her hand is a brown paper bag that reads "Eleven City Diner" on the front in black cursive lettering. There's also a grande latte in her hand, steam pouring from a slit in the plastic lid. Laila is what a lot of people would consider short at 5'5. She's not wearing any sort of heels today, and her running shoes offer little to her height. Dressed in dark yoga pants and wearing a peacoat, the length of her now dark hair is pulled back in a sleek ponytail: all of her pretty natural waves flat ironed straight. Noticing Drew she slows. Not because she knows the other woman, but because the other woman seems alone on such a cold day. She approaches Drew slowly, the cup drawn to her lips~

[Drew Roscoe]

Drew didn't seem to be paying much attention to her surroundings, her dark eyes were out of focus and rested away from the path. People strolled behind her in sweat outfits, jogging off extra calories picked up on in the holiday season. But that was something of an illusion. Drew always paid attention, especially these days. It was something her daddy taught her. Always be aware-- not necessarily on guard, because that made you paranoid and you wound up wearing unjust stress like a well-loved cloak, but aware. If you know what's going on around you and it's second nature then nothing can sneak up on you. These days Drew practiced this with caution, because things that want to kill her and take her away for their own desires lived in troves in this city. So when Laila slowed down with her eyes focused on her, Drew took notice. It wasn't only men that wanted her hurt and tormented, after all. In fact, it had been a woman that had driven a knife into her stomach a month or so prior and left her bleeding, nearly dead on the pavement while a battle raged over her unaware head. She blinked clear brown eyes once, then turned her head to focus her attention on the pretty woman in the peacoat with the latte in her hand. She blinked once, curled both hands around the paper cup to keep her hands warm, and lifted one eyebrow at the woman inquisitively. While this might seem haughty when executed by most, something about the air around Drew felt warm, everything that her face did was cute, open and welcoming. The lifted eyebrow, somehow, was friendly, an invitation to come talk. As smooth and cheerful as though she'd smiled warmly and asked 'yes?'.

[Laila Frolich]

~So far, Laila was ignorant to the dangers of being kin to Werewolves. At the moment, she hardly believed what Jeff had told her. Twilight was a movie. American Werewolf in London? That was a movie too. Werewolves certainly didn't have a place in real life and the idea - the thought - that she'd be related to them seemed strangely absurd. No one in her family had been remembered fondly. In fact, no one in her family had done anything at all remarkable except for embezzle money. She was sure that didn't count. So, when she looks at Drew it is with virgin bluish eyes that have yet to see the horrors of being Fenrir kin - or kin at all for that matter.~ Oh...yeah I'm sorry...~Her voice rings truly apologetic. While her appearance gave off the impression of money, the way she talked seemed very friendly and down to earth.~ You just looked...alone... ~That is said with the faintest marker of laughter in her voice. When had she become the patron saint of the lonely?~

[Drew Roscoe]

The woman didn't seem to think that she would be noticed so soon, judging by the apology and the faint hint of surprise in her eyes. Drew glanced her over real quick, not in the way that one young woman looks at another typically, judging, comparing... but instead hunting for danger. No knives, no guns, no teeth or claws or boils or fur. Looked like a normal young woman to Drew. So she passed inspection in a moment, and the petite girl with the dark brown hair and the blue winter hat smiled. The expression glowed so easily that you'd think the clouds had parted and the sun was shining just on the two of them-- Laila and Drew. "Oh. Yeah, heh, I guess I get that." Her shoulders lifted and dropped under the thick gray sweater in a shrug, and she sipped at her beverage before licking her lips, lowering the cup and continuing. "Was just thinking, actually. Hoping I'd spot something, but I think I missed it." Laila looked like money, Drew didn't. She looked middle-class, average. The hoodie had a brand name splashed across the chest that, while cute, was known to be inexpensive. The jeans were a little threadbare at the thighs and knees, and the hat looked like someone had knitted it themselves. She felt down-to-earth while Laila sounded it. There was a pause, then Drew glanced back to the girl with only the faintest furrow of her brow, an expression of concern rather than distaste. "You know, people are dangerous around here. I could've been some sort of crazy person that you were sneaking up on."

[Laila Frolich]

~There wasn't anything dangerous seeming about Laila. She looked very cool, distant even, but otherwise she seemed to be just another Chicagoan out on a chilly near winter afternoon - coffee and food in hand. Drew's presence makes Laila smile genuinely. Her eyes turn toward where the other woman had been staring as if she might see some trace of whatever it was that had been missed. Seeing nothing she takes another drink of her still steaming drink.~ Yeah....~She begins, her brows drawn together in a look that screams unpleasant thoughts.~ I'm starting to realize that. But you don't look so bad... ~Laila turns her eyes from Drew and moves her attention out over the park.~ I'm Laila ~It's said with a offering of a hand covered in a black leather glove.~

[Drew Roscoe]

"Appearance isn't everything, y'know." Drew grinned, and something in the expression was sharp and ironic, though not dominant enough to sour the warmth and cheer of her demeanor. For once, Laila wasn't aware that Drew was a wicked shot with a gun, that she'd gunned down monsters, stood over them while they bled out on the floor with a foot on their arm so they couldn't grab for her or anyone else, leveled the weapon and fired off another bullet that would spill brain matter on the floor beneath their skulls and her shoes. She also didn't know that it was a petite, somewhat pretty girl that had stabbed Drew on the sidewalk, that it was a kid that had later exploded into fur and fangs, that a gangly teenager in a hoodie was potentially one of the most dangerous, unhinged people that she knew, and that her idea of Death Incarnate had a boyish face and a gap-toothed grin. These were things that she would learn eventually, most likely. Probably not today, though. Drew's bare, red-knuckled hand clasped over Laila's glove-clad one and shook solidly. The smile never really seemed to leave her face, only changed in flavor and spice. Now it was greeting and openness. "Drew. Nice to meetcha."

[Marrick Fisher]

Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6) [how is she doing today?]

[Laila Frolich]

~There was something unsettling about the way Drew warned her. Whether or not the other woman had meant her statement as a warning, it had been taken to heart as such. Laila carries herself in a very aware and practised manner. Her posture is near to perfect, her gait a neat heel to toe when she walks. She tries very hard to make the entire package that is her seem natural - bred into her genetics - but the more a person is around her the more it seems learned from repetition or a great amount of study.~ Drew - is that short for something or are you just a Drew? ~Her smile is easy and the now cooling drink is drawn to her lips once more.~

[Drew Roscoe]

"Nah, just Drew. Drew Beatrice." She released Laila's hand and returned hers to her cup, warming it further and licking at lips that were always threatening to dry up if she didn't keep slathering them with chapstick at every given opportunity. "My dad's pretty straight-forward. If he likes a name, that's the name. Like, if he wanted to call a kid Jim, he wouldn't name him James, y'know?" Again a shrug, something dismissive. Drew nibbled on her lower lip before realizing that she was doing more damage than good, scolding herself mentally, and tipping her head back some so she could finish the contents of her cup before they got too cool and went to waste. Normally around this time she'd sniff and call her dog back to her side and head home, but Basil hadn't come out with her today. So instead she glanced up the path, out to the grass, then to Laila once more. "So what's your story? College student?"

[Marrick Fisher]

She was out with Boy. They were, at that moment, very difficult to separate. She had no idea what would come of the moot, she had no idea that, for a time, a large portion of protecting their home would rest on her shoulders. For now, Marrick Fisher was content to spend time with her brother. She was nineteen today. She had informed him of this, rather matter-of-factly, and promptly ended up sitting on his chest and grinning like a madwoman. She had informed him that, since it was her birthday, she demanded presents. Good ones. She had informed him that they would be running today, and that would constitute as a good present. The end. She hadn't said when, either. Just that they would be running. The Fury looked down at the hotdog she'd been eating- third one today. She eats like a linebacker. "You know, I know what's in these," she starts, "and I still don't care."

[Laila Frolich]

~The girl standing almost next to Drew nods her reply. The food in her bag is cooling, her coffee is almost gone. Technically she should have been headed back through the park toward Michigan Ave and her home - but she wasn't. Instead she remained standing next to a stranger, staring out at nothing.~ No...~Laila shakes her head, a smile dusting over her lips. Her face looked young, hiding a few of her twenty three years through good skin care care and expensive peels.~ I attended USC in L.A. for about a year before I decided it wasn't for me...how about you? Are you a student?

[Boy]

"Its all just meat." He says. They'd been running. Running was something he did with purpose. He either ran after things or away fro them. Running just to run, and keeping a steady pace while doing it, was a challenge. So, for Marrick, running with her brother meant starting out with a steady jogging place, and eventually sprinting through the park. That meant sweating so much that your shirt clung to your skin and your hair pasted itself to your neck. And it all felt so exhilarating. He stood, picking bodies through the crowd. Planning routes and eying possible targets. If he had less intelligence he'd probably be chasing the leaves as they tried to get away. And it made his voice come out in something strong and quick. "Chicken butt, pig butt, whatever. Its all just meat. I used to live on cold sausage franks an macaroni. That shits good for ya."

[Drew Roscoe]

Drew laughed, and the sound was a little modest, a little sheepish. One hand lifted to touch at the back of her neck awkwardly, then fell to toy with the braid of dark blue wool that was hanging over her shoulder along with her wind-tossled hair. "Well, I'm trying to be. Two years of schooling, got my generals almost done, and I still have no idea why I'm there, heh." She shrugged and answered her own half-an-inquiry about the purpose of college. "Guess I just want a job that gives me more than an apartment and stress over bills. And hell, I'm halfway there, so why not keep at it?" A glance was cast away from the pretty face with pretty blue eyes, and a familiar figure hopped up in her eye. Marrick and Boy stood out in the first place because of the fact that they were sweaty, huffing a little, and because people that came across their path would veer out of the way to avoid them. Boy, however, flashed a memory in her mind. Woods, a roaring fire, figures standing in a group in an open patch of grass and weeds waiting, watching on half-expectantly while she struggled and kicked and cried against being dragged off to what she had been convinced was death, or at least a good long stay in the hospital. Her head tipped to the side a little, and she stared a little longer than polite while searching for identity beyond "one of the wolves".

[Marrick Fisher]

She nods. "Well-hey, are you growing a mustache?" she looked at him mid bite. Running with Boy was fun. Something she enjoyed doing because he could keep up with her. He was tireless, and she continued on simply because it seemed that she wanted to keep going. Her attention wandered, briefly, and instead she found herself turning and looking at a pair of Fenrir on the street. The moon was full. She was nineteen years old. And she was tense. But she was running, or had been, so the world was looking up.

[Laila Frolich]

~Laila listens and smiles. She can't be much older than Drew but she reflects on what the other woman had said with a sort of ah...I've been there expression on her face. Still, Laila doesn't look as if she's hurting for anything: her sneakers are high end, her yoga pants are not made of cheap material and the peacoat is the sort that probably cost her a decent amount of cash.~ I get it. ~It's said with a nod~ I fell into a line of work that ... is pretty forgiving when it comes to my sometimes laziness and want to sleep in most days.. ~Her eyes then follow Drew's and she is for a moment reminded of the very scar and very strange man she'd met in this very same park just twenty four hours earlier.~ Do you know them?

[Drew Roscoe]

Drew glanced back to Laila and lifted an eyebrow thoughtfully, trying to puzzle out what line of work let you skip days and sleep in. She thought about that woman with the red hair and glasses, the photographer. She bet that was pretty cushy. And it paid nicely, no doubt. Drew found that completely unfair, that people that made all kinds of money had easy jobs that let them take days off and sleep in and what have you, but Drew was scraping the bottom of the barrel, struggling, and she had to work two jobs and almost never got a day off. That on top of college? Let's just say that she was ridiculously glad that she'd finished up this semester and was going to suck up her winter break with as much enthusiasm as she could. Then inquiry then came as to whether she knew the two that she assumed to be werewolves, and she blinked once, then lifted and dropped one shoulder uncertainly. "I think I might. Kinda recognize the guy."

[Boy]

Boy touched at his upper lip as if he'd just been told he had barbecue all over his face. A moustache? Was that even possible? How old did you have to be before you started shaving anyway? "Shit. You're messin' with me. My grandaddy had a moustache. And a beard. Shit...shit, i'm gonna look like my grandaddy now." He looked up at Marrick with dread, but followed her momentary gaze to the two women, forgetting all about the moustache for a moment. His eyes settled on Drew. "That's the girl that Decker made cry." He informs Marrick softly.

[Laila Frolich]

~There was enough distance between Boy and Marrick and herself that she felt comfortable to continue standing in the cold and talking to Drew. At this point, the tips of her small ears are red as is the tip of her small nose. It would be cute were it not so uncomfortable.~ I met some guy and girl here by the cloud gate yesterday...~There's tension in her voice, riding her words heavily.~ They were weird enough that I went out after immediately and bought a can of pepper spray.... ~This is all said as she keeps a watchful blue eye on Boy and Marrick~

[Marrick Fisher]

"No, you're not," she tells him, "you're going to look like you with a moustache." She looked at the kinfolk again, and now her attention didn't travel back. Hands rest comfortably on her hips. She observes them with mild curiosity, as though this were an exhibit at an aquarium, "what was her name again?" She asks and it is quiet. "Don' think Decker's much on tact." Hi, pot. I'm kettle.

[Boy]

"Crack Shot. Or...somethin' like that." He was touching at his entire face now, fingering the fuzz above his upper lip, trying hard to locate something along his chin and cheeks. "I can work with a beard. Beards are manly. A mustache though? I dunno."

[Drew Roscoe]

Drew's eyes, a bright and obvious sort of brown rather than dark with ethnicity or murky with greens and oranges that would make them hazel, slipped over to Laila again, studying her for a second before she simply nodded. "Not a bad idea." Not that pepper spray would do her any good against the monsters that saved their wrath for her and other Kinfolk, it felt like. Drew kept her gun with her all the time. Matter of fact, her Colt was riding on her side under the bulk of her hoodie at this very moment, just in case. It was, after all, this park that she'd been in when crazed bad guys tried to kill her and the tall bespectacled Kinfolk, when Bad Wolf Monsters had charged... Why did she come here still? Marrick and Boy were staring, and Drew picked up on that easily enough. Her lips pulled funny as she nibbled on them further, then she forced a smile and lifted a hand in greeting. Hi, how are you?

[Laila Frolich]

~Laila smiles at Drew's sort of approval at her idea of 'protection' against monsters (heroes?) like Daniel - like Werewolves. Blue eyes follow the small wave of Drew's hands as she greets Marrick and Boy. This draws Laila's back even straighter than it had been. It brings about a line of tension in her pretty jawline that wasn't there moments ago.~ It was nice to meet you Drew...I really should get going...it's getting cold ~She smiles and tosses the latte cup in the nearest trash can.~

[Boy]

Boy forgets his potential facial hair for a moment to stand with squared shoulders, facing Drew fully as she waves. At first his head tilts to the side, trying to make sense of it, and then he juts his chin out at her in an upward nod that's a bit more abrupt than it should be. "I think you got a friend, Bones."

[Marrick Fisher]

Drew, in return, received a smile and a thumbs up for her response. Then? There was a wave, a wave on over, as though they didn't bite... well, not hard. The Fury starts on her way over. "Dunno who she is, but hey, could always use friends."

[Drew Roscoe]

Laila made her exit statement, polite to a fault. But Drew noticed the tension, noticed how she straightened, how muscles tightened and joints tensed. She recognized that, vaguely, and glanced toward Marrick and Boy again. A reasonable reaction to such monsters, she supposed, especially seeing how most 'normal' people avoided them as much as they possibly could. She remembered a conversation with Abe that had taken place after Joe had broken his jaw. "What the hell were you thinking? Why didn't you just run away?" "Are you stupid? He would've killed you!" "...Yeah, but you hit him. That took serious balls, Drewby. Balls or stupidity." "Or love." "....Ugh, I think the fucker broke my face." So Drew sniffed against the chill and smiled, nodding. "Yeah, wind's picking up. Nice to meet you too, Miss Laila." Her smile was bright as ever as the woman she was unaware of being Kin made her escape.

[Boy]

Boy is quick to follow, and in fact, overtakes. He trots on ahead, meeting with Drew personally and walking backward with her as she continued, if she continued. "Hey." His voice comes quick and heavy. Or as heavy as any 17 year old can manage. "I'm Boy." He continues proudly, and jerks his head toward Marrick. "That's Bones."

[Marrick Fisher]

She smiled contently, and waved. She is intense, there is a need and a want for movement in every inch of her body. She was tense, buzzing the need to run, even if she had just done it. To jump, to hunt, to kill, to do whatever it is that she does. "Sup?" ever the articulate one.

[Doodle]

...A long single note, sort of like a whine, creeps into the attention span: It is a high pitched thing, though not enough to warrant a grinding on the nerves, more a subtle squint and curious 'what the...'. It steadily grows louder as time progresses until eventually it becomes an incomprehensible word and from that? A more comprehensible thing that has one guessing for clarity. Finally it stops, takes a breath...and starts back up again, louder or rather closer, the source coming around the nearest block corner at a fumbling run, with a single word at the top of his puffing lungs- "......Boooooooooo-" The Surplus army bag is bouncing around awkwardly on one shoulder, dragging him in a zig-zag pattern, arms flailing to maintain his gait's integrity, bushy hair clumping together, uncombed and scattered like a flame, leaning to one side. The gray pea coat is open and flapping behind him, while the dark red hoodie is sporting a half dozen dark stains of various foodstuffs, the cargo pants much the same. He'd yet to take them off for Wendy to do a load of washing it would seem. The new sneakers slap loudly on the concrete. "-yyyyyyyyyyyyy!"

[Drew Roscoe]

The pretty young Kinfolk, young but older than the trio that had come together by a handful of years anyways, vanished. Headed up the path without glancing back. Smart girl. Drew peered after her for a few moments before Boy surged ahead of Marrick and came to a stop a few feet in front of her. His chin was parallel to the ground, voice heavy and posture proud. Every bit the teenage monster that she expected-- self-certain and unabashed. He introduced him and the blonde as Boy and Bones. Drew smiled the same friendly room-brightening smile that she always seemed to have in large supply and tossed her empty cup into the same trash bin that Laila had used before taking her leave. Her hands would fall into her hoodie pockets once freed up. "Boy and Bones, huh...? Original, at least. I--..." She paused, trailed off, and furrowed one eyebrow down while flicking the other one upward. Someone was whining Boy's name, calling it out like how she'd heard farmers call in cattle (Come Boo-ooossss!) and that someone turned out to be a scrawny boy nearly tipping over from the weight of a bag he kept with him when he rounded a corner. She was honestly surprised that he didn't wipe out and go rolling in the grass. She blinked, then quirked a grin that looked highly amused. "Let me guess. This'll be Bog?"

[Boy]

His ears couldn't twist and turn in this form, but his attention grabbed his gaze and forced it upward at first, then down and around until he was facing the source of the sound, and watching their even younger packmate round a corner at a frantic pace. Drew guessed 'Bog'. Boy corrected her with a quick 'What the fuck?' look before raising his hands, waving and shouting the correction. "DOODLE!" He shouted with a form of excitement usually reserved for positive expletives like 'Kickass!' or 'Fuck Yeah!' "DOODLE! HEY MAN!" And there was a sharp and abrupt whistle that joined the attention grabbing motions.

[Marrick Fisher]

"Nope," she tells Drew with a grin. The (now) nineteen year old looks down the way at the Bone Gnawer. She grins something too bright, too sharp, and too feral. The moon is high in the sky, and she is a limitless, boundless supply of energy. "Doo-duuuuuuhl!" she calls out, and she waves like it's important, "I'm old!"

[Doodle]

"What?!" It is brilliant shock that brings the youngest of the gathered here up short, bag flinging hard forward with the sudden momentum, propelling the strap into his shoulder and dragging him from his standstill before the Trio with an awkward squawk that ends with him nearly face-planting effortlessly. He rights himself with a few wide-spread hand and arm gestures, legs spread a little wide and lungs heaving for more oxygen then his little body could possibly hold. He stares at Marrick like he was going to reply to her outrageous comment and instead- "Holy Crack Monkeys do you have any idea how hard it is to find people in the Physical? Like seri-" He freezes in place, lips half-formed into an 'o' shape as his gaze finally registers Drew, eyes snapping wide and chest still working the billows. Without moving an inch, his gaze flicks back to Boy and Marrick, hand coming up close to his chest, index finger creeping out to indicate the young woman, with a quizzical sort of 'Did I just fuck up?'.

[Boy]

Boy shrugs at Doodle's complaint. "I just follow my nose, man. Oh hey, no worries. This is Hot Shot. Decker made her cry once." Boy circles around, draping a sweaty arm over the youngest pack member as a way of pointing him out. "This here's Doodle. He's our bro."

[Drew Roscoe]

Drew had pressed her lips together and pushed them to the side when Boy cast her a quick, sharp 'what the fuck?' expression. Her eyes closed and shoulders shrugged. She thought it was kind of funny-- a triad of 'Bo' names. Apparently they didn't get it, though. Or they didn't take the time to think about it, too busy were they with shouting to one another. It was textbook, really. Wolves howled to communicate, and teenagers howled to be young and rambunctious. This qualified as both, and they all seemed to be precisely that-- teenage werewolves. Every single pun in the universe fell down on Drew's head, she was pretty sure, at that thought. They were brushed away, though, and instead she held her silence and observed as Boy and Bones yelled at this fluffy-haired kid who had to be 'Doodle'. He came huffing and puffing to a stop, screeched a little bit when that massive bag almost pulled him to the ground yet again, and started yammering on about how hard it is to find people in the 'Physical'. Which Drew assumed was this world right here. After all, they could pop in and out of a second world, something someone had called an 'Umbrella', or something. Spirit world was easier for her to remember, though. He stopped mid speech and looked at her like he'd just farted in class and laughed about it only to find that the teacher was standing right beside his desk. She grinned and nodded her head, wiggling fingers at him from the pocket of her hoodie in greeting. She was about to open her mouth to speak when Boy spoke up instead, and she cast him a look that was difficult to place, but certainly wasn't pleased. "First of all, it's Drew. Not 'Hot Shot'. Sounds like a stripper name. Second of all, thanks for bringing that up. 'Ppreciate it. Best damn introduction I've ever gotten." Twerp. She huffed indignantly and nodded to Doodle. "Nice to meetcha."

[Doodle]

Nice to Meet yo- "She's not a-" Interruption, pointing at Drew still while looking up at Boy "-She's not a Stripper, Boss. Strippers have big Heels and funny walks and call you honey and sugar a lot, while bending forward so you can get a look at their jugglies and st-" A flicker flash wince is cast at Marrick, followed by a mouthed 'Sorry!' and then around on Drew again, with a crooked sort of grin and a hand that thrust's out toward Drew. "Hi!" Pause. "You're pretty" Pause. "Heeee..." Looking up at Boy with a nod and a nudge in the ribs with his elbow, followed quickly by a- "...Why they call you Hot Shot?" Pause. He's done.

[Marrick Fisher]

"Drew? It's nice to meet you," she says. She offers the Fenrir kin a hand. She's too tense, too intense, too much of a lot of things, but... what she lacks in the general, she makes up for trying. An overeager, rabid puppy.

[Marrick Fisher]

She looked at the boys for a second, mouth set and the Fury raised a brow. She didn't adopt this expression often, but it didn't seem to matter. She observes, and suddenly looked like she might crawl into a hole and die. "Doodle? Who took you to a strip club?" So that she may find them and subsequently maim them.

[Boy]

That telling off leaves Boy balked, and visibly so. But luckily Doodle was talking. Luckily he had the young Bone Gnawer to correct him, and then some. Boy's expression turned from a look of shame to--Wait a minute, hold the phone! "How the hell do you know about strippers?" Boy demands, and with a slap on Doodle's shoulder, he jabs a thumb in Marrick's direction. "Wish her a happy birthday." Coming back to Drew, he frowns softly, and runs a hand swiftly through still wet hair. The chill was coming down. They might catch their deaths out here. "Sorry. 'Sall I really know about ya, that's all. I didn't mean nothin by it."

[Boy]

((Alright folks, on battery power now so I have roughly an hour. Just a heads up.))

[Drew Roscoe]

Drew seemed a little bit taken aback by the enthusiasm and the two hands thrust in her direction. She blinked, glanced between the two, then accepted Marrick's hand first. She felt like she outranked him, and so Drew figured it best to defer to her first. Her grip was firm enough, not crushing, not trying to prove anything though. Just enough not to be a flimsy fish-handed thing. She shook Marrick's hand twice, solidly, then took Doodle's instead. Awkward kid, she thought, but smiled anyways. "Thanks. I like your hair." A compliment for a compliment, after all. He nudged at Boy as though there was a joke to be had, like he was daring Drew to spell 'i cup' out so that he and Boy could giggle about what they just convinced her to say. He asked how she got the name Hot Shot. She corrected and explained. "I think what you're talking about is 'Long Shot'. That Curata guy calls me that. I think it's because when I shoot bad guys I tend to hit them here." And she reached out and tapped two fingers between Doodle's eyes. Her hand went back to her pocket, and she returned her gaze to Boy. "S'alright. Just pointin' out, it wouldn't be cool if Bones here introduced you as the kid who used to piss the bed when he was seven."

[Boy]

Boys brows furrow quickly at that, instantly upset. He glances at Marrick, then back to Drew, and his hand finds the back of his neck. "Point taken." he says grimly.

[Doodle]

Doodle balks quickly and in several successive instances: "It was just the once, Marrick, Jukebox said-" "My Hair?!" A quizzical pat of his head, feeling out the tips of the Einstein spread to the left- "It wasn't nothin' I swear!" Up at Boy as he repeat's Marrick's claims. "Wha- Huh?" As Drew pinpoints him between the eyes, forcing him to lean his head back at stare at the tip of her finger a moment- "Oh! Wait..." A Frown, the young Theurge stepping closer to Drew, eyes narrowed in a firm (for him) regard, gaze leveling with Drew's features, before he leans out, picking up one of her hands and inspecting the inside suspiciously. "Uhhh..." He leans back again, eyes still on the hand for a moment longer, then up at Drew, face frank and a little skewed with one eye closed, tongue in cheek. "...Why you Shootin' Bad Guys? That's our job."

[Doodle]

"I mean we don't shoot-...Well I don't shoot, I don't know if Marrick or Bo-" Eyeing the other two, quizzically "Do you shoot-" Then around on Drew quickly, hands to his chest "I don't shoot or...well..." Tapping his chin, eyes skyward "...Do much else either but...make things out of other...things I can find and..." Hands and shoulders finally begin to slump, fingers tapping idly against one another infront of him, a faint frown on his features. "...And Oh! OH!" Excited again, eyeing Drew. "I Can Draw!" Flustered shaking of the head. "Sketch! I said Sketch. I can sketch...stuffs...too.." Wince that refuses to leave his features.

[Boy]

"Wendy shoots." Boy says matter of factly, and crosses his arms over his chest as he does so, sniffing quickly. "When she has to. Its a good thing for kin to know. Long as you don't go all Vigilante 'n shit."

[Drew Roscoe]

Boy frowned hard, glancing from Marrick back to her. He looked properly shame-faced, and that was enough for Drew Roscoe. She smiled brightly, hard enough that her eyes closed for a second, and nodded happily. "Good!" It seemed that all was forgiven and forgotten. Drew was a big advocate of putting things in the past. She's put much, much worse behind her, after all. Like having her boyfriend's jaw broken or having a monster drip hot breath and saliva on her shoulder and arm, a hair's breadth away from taking her life and god knows what else with it. Doodle floundered, edged closer to her, and it occurred to her that they were the same height. A rare find. She blinked, thought about saying something, but cut it off when he plucked her hand away from her pocket and studied it. She didn't snatch her hand away, perfectly fine with contact so long as he didn't try and lick it or bite at her fingernails or something. Rather than either of those, he talked himself in a circle so quickly the ground beneath him all but collapsed and he was left wincing and stammering about drawing. She blinked once, then shook her head. "Shhh," was the initial statement. Not a 'shut the hell up' sound but a 'calm down' sound. "I'm shooting bad guys because if I don't they'll get me, and if I hadn't I'd probably be captive or dead right now. I'm kinda fond of life and free will, myself." And he can draw. Poor kid needs what reassurance he can get. "I'm pretty sure that just being what you are makes you a hell of a lot more useful than what I can claim to be, kid."

[Marrick Fisher]

(skip me, loves, phone call)

[Doodle]

"NAHHHHHH!!" He flaps a hand at Drew, a sheepish grin splitting his features, leaning off to one side, stiff-legged and hands jamming into his pockets. He turns back to Boy and Marrick, stepping away from Drew out of some courtesy intent, taking up Boy's right side again. "...That's cool though. Shooting...bad guys that is...Fair's fair like Eyes 'n Teeth...Keep 'em dead so you ken live, yeup.." He nods, sagely for a Fifteen year-old. Then 'round on Boy, a matter-of-fact tone creeping into his voice. "...Came to tell ya I renewed the Pact with the Rats in the Walls, digging out Spiders for us. We're good for another few months at least and Oh! Told me about some stuff kickin' 'round ten blocks down. Basement party for the-" And he hisses loudly and scratches at the air, making 'evil' faces that look at lot like the vampires from old black and white movies, combined with some gestures that could be tentacles or replicas of a fish swimming.

[Marrick Fisher]

She looks at Doodle, and she hasn't wiped that ever-so-vaguely predatory grin off of her face. He's talking about something and the Fury perks up. She is pleased, she is anxious, she is ready and looking to burn off some of that Gaia-given rage that she was so lovingly blessed with. Control was key, and idle hands were the devil's plaything. "Well, that sure sounds like a decent birthday present."

[Boy]

"Shit. Right." He nods to Doodle, and his voice takes on a conspiratorial tone. "Great work man. Callie and me can scope it out and we'll work up a plan of action. You guys down for that?"

[Doodle]

"Yep!" Pause. Blink. Turning to Marrick. "Happy BIRTHDAY!" And he lunges forward to wrap his arms around her waist, a grapple hug ensuing with ferocious good cheer and broad grins. "Ya old battle ax, you..."

[Drew Roscoe]

And so they turned to talk of battle and planning and other such items of mayhem that Garou tended to fall to. Things that Drew couldn't really participate in. She licked at her lower lip, then sighed quietly, at herself, and produced a tube of chapstick from her pocket. This was applied generously to her lips because god damnit this year she wasn't going to chew them to shreds just because it got cold and they got dry. She shifted her weight back, but didn't actually back away. That'd be weak, and her people frowned on her for acting or appearing weak. Instead she smiled, though the expression was faint now, and lifted her eyes to Marrick's face. "Well happy birthday, then."

[Marrick Fisher]

She doesn't quite squeek, though she does make a little noise upon the initial hugging. She wraps her arms around Doodle, holds and rocks back and forth like she was going to keep him forever and always. The Fury hugged like War, but it was an affectionate sort of war. "Weeee can do that, you two go do your thang," she tells Boy. She's yet to let go of the poor, unfortunate Gnawer. She looks at Drew and grins, "sorry, only hit nineteen once. I'm feelin' pretty ancient."