More than fashionably late
Feb. 8th, 2012 07:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shelbyrouIt is currently 13:11 Pacific Time on Wed Feb 8 2012.
Currently the moon is in the waning Full (Ahroun) Moon phase (92% full).
Old Condemned Library: Ground Floor
The library's ground level is one large room punctuated by even rows of pier columns that confidently hold the weight of the upper floors. The building is old but solid, its lath and plaster walls dark with age. Here and there some of the plaster has worn off to reveal the wooden slats beneath. Heavy, dark grained and decorated mahogany wainscoting runs the length of the walls, complimented by thick, ornate crown molding along the ceiling and each of the columns. It's clear from the dilapidated condition that the building's been abandoned for decades. There is a somber, sepulchral quietness to the place, even when alive with people, that is perhaps a ghostly echo of the rigid, required silence that its wardens demanded when the library was in its heyday.
Obvious exits:
Front Door Basement Staircase
The large main room of the library is quiet and empty at the moment, but it's not long before the bone Gnawer makes her presence known. The quiet is broken when Madonna's Like a Prayer suddenly emanates from the men's bathroom, sans musical accompaniment or a discernible key.
Wincing, Shelby looks up from one of the chairs. A moment more and she slips her phone back into her purse, rising on ridiculously high blue heels to click-clack across the floor toward the bathroom door. Then as if only just arriving she calls, "Hello the library!"
Lefty's working on tiling, the acoustics in the bathroom supposedly making the singing sound better. The sudden appearance of the Silver Fang surprises her, and she drops the spackle-knife in her hand. "Shit!" she exclaims, her hand going over her heart momentarily. "Aw, man you scared me. Hi." she brushes off tile adhesive absently, but really all it does it smear on her jeans. Eventually she leaves it, grins and starts to move out to the library. She studies Shelby with open curiosity as she does so. "Hi," she says again, unsure what else to say.
She stands at roughly five-seven, lean and fit, even for a woman well into middle-aged. Her ginger-red hair is streaked with strawberry blonde highlights and falls just past her shoulders in a simple, uncomplicated wave. Bright hazel-green and copper-brown eyes produce a rather piercing gaze, full of ingenuity and acumen, while her bearing can be at times almost facetious. The one sober and glaring feature about the woman is a scarred right-arm, completely missing below the the elbow joint.
She wears a pair of faded Levi button-fly jeans, a black long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of scuffed, old sneakers. The shirt is tucked into the jeans, and a finely crafted leather belt is looped through the Levis. The carving in the fine leather depicts a forested scene with a wolf, rat and Pegasus running through it. Overall, a black canvas duster that has seen better years is worn to protect against the weather.
"Sorry," the Fang says, because that's what you say in this situation. There's a smile to recognize the absurdity of it, and she drops a nod toward the chairs she left. "I'm too late for the Superbowl, but I brought some food?" After a moment she adds, "I'm Shelby - this place is safe, right? Only family here?"
Lefty's eyes immediately shift to the aforementioned food. "Oh, hey. That's nice of you. Thanks." The Gnawer emphasizes her sincerity with a wide grin. "Yeah. Yeah, we're all cool here. Family," she says, and once again tries to wipe her hand clean before offering it to the well dressed Silver Fang.
"It's cookies and cupcakes," Shelby admits with a sheepish shrug a nod toward the paper bag waiting on the floor. "And, good, about it being safe." With nary a qualm about what might end up on her hand she takes Lefty's for a firm shake. "The full name is Shelby Zaleski-Leveque, Fostern Ragabash of the Silver Fangs, also called Bright Eye Sees to the Heart of the Ambush. I'm the great-great-granddaughter of the Adren Galliard Falcon's Cry Turns Tears to Blood. I could go on like this for a while, but...," another disarming shrug-and-smile.
Lefty shakes the Fang's hand, the grip of her left hand firm but not rough. "Pleasure," she says, grinning again. "I'm Lefty." She leaves it at that and moves to grab the bag of cookies and cupcakes, peaking inside to get a look at them. Only after she has one in hand does she think to add to that simple introduction. "Oh, sorry," she says, waving the cookie around as she gestures with her hand. "Uh, Gnawer, ragabash. Adren, according to Gaia. Ferrets Out the Wyrm, for the four-legged."
Shelby gives her hand a surreptitious eyeing - just what is on that? - while Lefty is otherwise distracted looking at the goodies. They're packaged in reusable plastic storage containers, either homemade or else taken out of their store packaging and... nah, probably homemade. "Nice to meet you, Lefty-rhya," the white-haired woman claims. "I heard about the Superbowl thing, but I couldn't make it. I hope you don't mind I stopped by today?"
Lefty doesn't seem to care whether they're store bought or not. She bites into the cookie and a pleased little noise rises up out of her throat. "Oh, no no. Welcome anytime." As if to emphasize this, the Gnawer invites the Silver Fang over to the beat up old couch to sit down. There's a bit of dust and several books on home repair in the way, she quickly dumps them off to a corner.
The younger Ragabash settles into the couch as if taking tea. "Oh! I nearly forgot." Her smile sheepish this time. "I'm also a child of Dragonfly, in the pack Equinox. --Still getting used to that. So." A look around the no-longer abandoned room. "This is... another safehouse, like the Tenement? A safe place for Garou to gather?"
Lefty blinks in mild surprise at the mention of dragonfly. "No shit? Wow, congratulations!” She moves back towards the makeshift kitchen. "Hey you want a beer or something? We got soda too, leftover from the party." She rummages in the old Frigidaire while answering the Silver Fang's other question. "Yeah. Well, we're trying to make it into that. Into a Gnawer safehouse. But others are welcome, as long as they don't, you knw, cause trouble or act like assholes."
Shelby beams. "Thank you. It's my first." As for the other question, "Um -- Diet Coke, if you have it. Or diet whatever is fine, thanks. And that's good, having another safe place. I'm sure you've heard all about the dreams and such?"
Lefty grunts in response. The older ragabash returns with a beer for herself and a Coke Zero for Shelby. It's handed off with a wry grin. "Yeah, I've heard. Had a few of my own, too. You?"
A nod and Shelby cracks the can, holding it over the floor until the first fizzing has faded. "No, none - but I wasn't in town for the winter Rite. As far as I can tell, if you weren't in town, you didn't get any dreams, no matter if you are a Sept member or not. I'm sure you've talked dreams until you're blue in the face already, but would you mind once more? Kevin and I are trying to collate who's had which dream and figure out if there are any patterns."
Lefty draws in a heavy breath after settling into a seat. She sips the bottled beer before asking of the Silver Fang, "You've heard of the one with the ship? The Storm, all the little animals, like Noah?"
Shelby nods. "I think so. Sailing toward a silver fountain?"
Lefty points, still holding the bottle in her good hand. "Yeah, that's the one." After another sip, she adds, "Pretty much the only other one I got was the scouting one. I haven't talked about that with anyone other than Mouse."
The Fang looks attentive. "Scouting? As in - you were encouraged to, or you got the results from, or...?"
Lefty sets the bottle down a moment while she rubs absently at the back of her neck. "No. It's..." the ragabash trails off as she searches for the best descriptive words. "I get the sense that it's important, first off. Really important. This is no jaunt to hijack some beer. And there's this...place. Fortress? Some kind of thing like that. And I know I gotta get inside, get the layout. there's guards. All kinds, guarding the gates. But I feel like I can get in through the walls, so the guards don't bug me so much. Then again, it might be I go through a wall right into a guard. Who knows? Anyway, I'm after...the princess. Gotta find her. She's the target. The whole mission. When the time comes...I gotta get her." She sits back, sips her beer again, and then calmly adds, "Nice shoes."
The Fang continues to sip at her Coke Zero (no squeamishness about no glass here), still watching Lefty. "Thaaaat's new." A blink. "--It sounds like something Tim said. I think." A shake of her head and she refocuses on the other woman, tucking a bit of hair behind one hear. "Okay - so do you actually get into the fortress? Or are you just planning on it? But it's definitely prep work, right?" The non-sequitur brings another blink and a flash of grin. "Thanks. They're too impractical for every day, but I do love to wear them when I can."
Lefty grins when the Fang does, nodding at the sentiment as well. She's quick to get back to the point, though. "Several times. I mean, from what I remember, there were several scouting trips into the fortress. I don't have any specific, like, layouts in my head. I think the dream was more...whatyacallit? Metaphorical? Just similar images, repeatedly, if you know what I mean. And that urgent sense. that we had to find the princess. That I had to get her."
Shelby nods understanding, yes, that. "Metaphorical, right. Like the ark one - we aren't really expected to build a big boat. So somebody needs rescuing. Chimera, do you think?" She pauses again, pressing her lips together. "You've heard the current theory of what's going on, right?"
Lefty lets out a laugh at the comment about an ark. "God, I hope not. Can you imagine Silvertip with a white beard, escorting bears and squirrels onto a giant boat in the middle of Harbor Park." Her grin widens at the idea. After another pull from her beer, she offers a vague shrug. "I know the wasps are coming. Mouse and I spoke a bit on it. And, yeah, we had some ideas. I don't know if they're the same as the current theories going around."
Shelby snerks. "Only two of each, though! That story always made me wonder, though - two of each what? Genus? Species?" She settles back into her seat, waving off further scientific hair-splitting. "Wasps sounds like you're caught up, but let me tell you what I know, so we're all on the same page. The Wyld is coming - is here already, maybe - and it's going to close the Caern to us for a time while rejuvenating it. We'll likely lose Chimera. We, the Garou, had better get out of its way, because we can't stop it. We need to create safe spaces elsewhere while all this is going on, primarily here in the city but other places too."
Lefty is nodding along with the Silver Fang as she goes through the scenario. The mention of Chimera's leaving is met with a slip of her usual grin. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Mouse has asked us all to bring stones for the rite, at moot."
Lefty adds quickly with a wave around the library, "and another reason for me finding this place."
"I'd heard," Shelby nods, about the rocks. "I've been trying to figure out where I'll find one. I mean, the size of your head? They aren't just lying around by the side of the road." She tries to estimate the size, but the can in her hand makes the exercise problematical. "And it's a good idea. I mean, the Walker's tenement is great, but there are only so many people you can pack into it. Especially on a big moon."
Lefty offers, "Try down by the river. The Columbia will give you one, I bet." The latter is nodded at, as well. "Yeah. I mean, we got some places to put people. But it never hurts to have more."
Shelby looks, for a moment, as though she's been slapped with a fish. "I... yes, of course. I was going to look around the scarred forest, but of course the river is a better place. More likely, anyway."
Lefty seems amused and offers the Silver Fang a small nod as a gesture that says 'you're welcome'. Then, the Gnawer grows serious again. "I know we're likely to lose the caern, but, do you really think all the sept's garou will need to vacate to the city? I mean, I can't see the Talons...but even the others. They already have places that they actually live in, don't they?"
Shelby has only a small shrug and twist of lips. "Don't know. Maybe? It seems that all the clues point to the city, don't they? The silver fountain in the ark dream seems to say Harbor Park to me. But yes, I agree that a lot of the Garou won't be comfortable here. So I hope that we'll be able to scatter to our various areas and be safe. It'll make gathering for Moot tricky, though."
Lefty glances around the old library with a bit of pride. "Well, if it comes to it, we'll have room here for a few. Maybe a bit more than a few. I'll have the bathrooms up and ready in a week or so. Maybe two. She'll be a good little place when I'm done."
"I wish I knew how to help," the Fang claims, looking about. "But all I know about houses comes from watching decorating shows with my grandpere. I can tell you to accessorize in odd numbers, or paint dark colors to make the wood pop, but that's about as far as I go. Still, if you do need help, ask. I can't promise I can do anything, but if I can, I will."
Lefty's grin widens again as her gaze travels over the silver Fang again. "Ok. I'll do that. Thanks. And if you hear anything else, gimme a call ok?"
Shelby nods. "-Which reminds me." She digs out her phone and looks attentive. "What's your number? Then I can text you with mine."
"Oh," Lefty says, setting the near empty bottle down to fish out her own cell. She rattles off the number after actually looking it up. She gives the Silver Fang a sheepish grin. "Don't really use it too often."
Shelby, with the ease of someone whose thumbs grew up doing this, punches in the number (or at least theoretically does so. It could be something from the Dewey Decimal system instead). "Hard to give you a call if you won't answer it," she observes, teasing. "I've got mine on me most of the time - and if I don't, it's because I'm four-legged."
Lefty chuckles under her breath, accepting the teasing with a nod. "I'm trying to be better with it. Sometimes it's hard to teach old dogs new tricks."
"At least you're willing to acknowledge the existence of cell phones," the other Ragabash says frankly. "Sunlit Waters, where I grew up, is a Lion sept. The Garou there couldn't use any technology less than fifty years old. He didn't care so much about the kin, thankfully."
Lefty mouths the word 'wow' and shakes her head, amusement in her eyes. "No, I'm not averse to new technology. I usually just can't afford it. The lot of the Gnawer. But I got good friends." There is that ever-present grin again. "But I better get back to the bathroom, or the crap is going to cement in the bucket and the tile will never get put up."
Shelby rises easily, bringing her Coke with her. "Good friends are important. Mind if I poke about? Call me shallow, but," she waggles a foot, "I'd rather not get these covered in whatever it is you have in the bucket. Otherwise I'd come keep you company."
Lefty waves a hand. "No. Be my guest." The Gnawer steals a second cookie before moving towards the bathrooms. Through the open door, she shouts back, "Haven't done much to the upstairs yet."
Shelby calls back, "Noted!" as she moves off. Her heels click-click against the floor, then the stairs as she disappears into the aether.
Currently the moon is in the waning Full (Ahroun) Moon phase (92% full).
Old Condemned Library: Ground Floor
The library's ground level is one large room punctuated by even rows of pier columns that confidently hold the weight of the upper floors. The building is old but solid, its lath and plaster walls dark with age. Here and there some of the plaster has worn off to reveal the wooden slats beneath. Heavy, dark grained and decorated mahogany wainscoting runs the length of the walls, complimented by thick, ornate crown molding along the ceiling and each of the columns. It's clear from the dilapidated condition that the building's been abandoned for decades. There is a somber, sepulchral quietness to the place, even when alive with people, that is perhaps a ghostly echo of the rigid, required silence that its wardens demanded when the library was in its heyday.
Obvious exits:
Front Door Basement Staircase
The large main room of the library is quiet and empty at the moment, but it's not long before the bone Gnawer makes her presence known. The quiet is broken when Madonna's Like a Prayer suddenly emanates from the men's bathroom, sans musical accompaniment or a discernible key.
Wincing, Shelby looks up from one of the chairs. A moment more and she slips her phone back into her purse, rising on ridiculously high blue heels to click-clack across the floor toward the bathroom door. Then as if only just arriving she calls, "Hello the library!"
Lefty's working on tiling, the acoustics in the bathroom supposedly making the singing sound better. The sudden appearance of the Silver Fang surprises her, and she drops the spackle-knife in her hand. "Shit!" she exclaims, her hand going over her heart momentarily. "Aw, man you scared me. Hi." she brushes off tile adhesive absently, but really all it does it smear on her jeans. Eventually she leaves it, grins and starts to move out to the library. She studies Shelby with open curiosity as she does so. "Hi," she says again, unsure what else to say.
She stands at roughly five-seven, lean and fit, even for a woman well into middle-aged. Her ginger-red hair is streaked with strawberry blonde highlights and falls just past her shoulders in a simple, uncomplicated wave. Bright hazel-green and copper-brown eyes produce a rather piercing gaze, full of ingenuity and acumen, while her bearing can be at times almost facetious. The one sober and glaring feature about the woman is a scarred right-arm, completely missing below the the elbow joint.
She wears a pair of faded Levi button-fly jeans, a black long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of scuffed, old sneakers. The shirt is tucked into the jeans, and a finely crafted leather belt is looped through the Levis. The carving in the fine leather depicts a forested scene with a wolf, rat and Pegasus running through it. Overall, a black canvas duster that has seen better years is worn to protect against the weather.
"Sorry," the Fang says, because that's what you say in this situation. There's a smile to recognize the absurdity of it, and she drops a nod toward the chairs she left. "I'm too late for the Superbowl, but I brought some food?" After a moment she adds, "I'm Shelby - this place is safe, right? Only family here?"
Lefty's eyes immediately shift to the aforementioned food. "Oh, hey. That's nice of you. Thanks." The Gnawer emphasizes her sincerity with a wide grin. "Yeah. Yeah, we're all cool here. Family," she says, and once again tries to wipe her hand clean before offering it to the well dressed Silver Fang.
"It's cookies and cupcakes," Shelby admits with a sheepish shrug a nod toward the paper bag waiting on the floor. "And, good, about it being safe." With nary a qualm about what might end up on her hand she takes Lefty's for a firm shake. "The full name is Shelby Zaleski-Leveque, Fostern Ragabash of the Silver Fangs, also called Bright Eye Sees to the Heart of the Ambush. I'm the great-great-granddaughter of the Adren Galliard Falcon's Cry Turns Tears to Blood. I could go on like this for a while, but...," another disarming shrug-and-smile.
Lefty shakes the Fang's hand, the grip of her left hand firm but not rough. "Pleasure," she says, grinning again. "I'm Lefty." She leaves it at that and moves to grab the bag of cookies and cupcakes, peaking inside to get a look at them. Only after she has one in hand does she think to add to that simple introduction. "Oh, sorry," she says, waving the cookie around as she gestures with her hand. "Uh, Gnawer, ragabash. Adren, according to Gaia. Ferrets Out the Wyrm, for the four-legged."
Shelby gives her hand a surreptitious eyeing - just what is on that? - while Lefty is otherwise distracted looking at the goodies. They're packaged in reusable plastic storage containers, either homemade or else taken out of their store packaging and... nah, probably homemade. "Nice to meet you, Lefty-rhya," the white-haired woman claims. "I heard about the Superbowl thing, but I couldn't make it. I hope you don't mind I stopped by today?"
Lefty doesn't seem to care whether they're store bought or not. She bites into the cookie and a pleased little noise rises up out of her throat. "Oh, no no. Welcome anytime." As if to emphasize this, the Gnawer invites the Silver Fang over to the beat up old couch to sit down. There's a bit of dust and several books on home repair in the way, she quickly dumps them off to a corner.
The younger Ragabash settles into the couch as if taking tea. "Oh! I nearly forgot." Her smile sheepish this time. "I'm also a child of Dragonfly, in the pack Equinox. --Still getting used to that. So." A look around the no-longer abandoned room. "This is... another safehouse, like the Tenement? A safe place for Garou to gather?"
Lefty blinks in mild surprise at the mention of dragonfly. "No shit? Wow, congratulations!” She moves back towards the makeshift kitchen. "Hey you want a beer or something? We got soda too, leftover from the party." She rummages in the old Frigidaire while answering the Silver Fang's other question. "Yeah. Well, we're trying to make it into that. Into a Gnawer safehouse. But others are welcome, as long as they don't, you knw, cause trouble or act like assholes."
Shelby beams. "Thank you. It's my first." As for the other question, "Um -- Diet Coke, if you have it. Or diet whatever is fine, thanks. And that's good, having another safe place. I'm sure you've heard all about the dreams and such?"
Lefty grunts in response. The older ragabash returns with a beer for herself and a Coke Zero for Shelby. It's handed off with a wry grin. "Yeah, I've heard. Had a few of my own, too. You?"
A nod and Shelby cracks the can, holding it over the floor until the first fizzing has faded. "No, none - but I wasn't in town for the winter Rite. As far as I can tell, if you weren't in town, you didn't get any dreams, no matter if you are a Sept member or not. I'm sure you've talked dreams until you're blue in the face already, but would you mind once more? Kevin and I are trying to collate who's had which dream and figure out if there are any patterns."
Lefty draws in a heavy breath after settling into a seat. She sips the bottled beer before asking of the Silver Fang, "You've heard of the one with the ship? The Storm, all the little animals, like Noah?"
Shelby nods. "I think so. Sailing toward a silver fountain?"
Lefty points, still holding the bottle in her good hand. "Yeah, that's the one." After another sip, she adds, "Pretty much the only other one I got was the scouting one. I haven't talked about that with anyone other than Mouse."
The Fang looks attentive. "Scouting? As in - you were encouraged to, or you got the results from, or...?"
Lefty sets the bottle down a moment while she rubs absently at the back of her neck. "No. It's..." the ragabash trails off as she searches for the best descriptive words. "I get the sense that it's important, first off. Really important. This is no jaunt to hijack some beer. And there's this...place. Fortress? Some kind of thing like that. And I know I gotta get inside, get the layout. there's guards. All kinds, guarding the gates. But I feel like I can get in through the walls, so the guards don't bug me so much. Then again, it might be I go through a wall right into a guard. Who knows? Anyway, I'm after...the princess. Gotta find her. She's the target. The whole mission. When the time comes...I gotta get her." She sits back, sips her beer again, and then calmly adds, "Nice shoes."
The Fang continues to sip at her Coke Zero (no squeamishness about no glass here), still watching Lefty. "Thaaaat's new." A blink. "--It sounds like something Tim said. I think." A shake of her head and she refocuses on the other woman, tucking a bit of hair behind one hear. "Okay - so do you actually get into the fortress? Or are you just planning on it? But it's definitely prep work, right?" The non-sequitur brings another blink and a flash of grin. "Thanks. They're too impractical for every day, but I do love to wear them when I can."
Lefty grins when the Fang does, nodding at the sentiment as well. She's quick to get back to the point, though. "Several times. I mean, from what I remember, there were several scouting trips into the fortress. I don't have any specific, like, layouts in my head. I think the dream was more...whatyacallit? Metaphorical? Just similar images, repeatedly, if you know what I mean. And that urgent sense. that we had to find the princess. That I had to get her."
Shelby nods understanding, yes, that. "Metaphorical, right. Like the ark one - we aren't really expected to build a big boat. So somebody needs rescuing. Chimera, do you think?" She pauses again, pressing her lips together. "You've heard the current theory of what's going on, right?"
Lefty lets out a laugh at the comment about an ark. "God, I hope not. Can you imagine Silvertip with a white beard, escorting bears and squirrels onto a giant boat in the middle of Harbor Park." Her grin widens at the idea. After another pull from her beer, she offers a vague shrug. "I know the wasps are coming. Mouse and I spoke a bit on it. And, yeah, we had some ideas. I don't know if they're the same as the current theories going around."
Shelby snerks. "Only two of each, though! That story always made me wonder, though - two of each what? Genus? Species?" She settles back into her seat, waving off further scientific hair-splitting. "Wasps sounds like you're caught up, but let me tell you what I know, so we're all on the same page. The Wyld is coming - is here already, maybe - and it's going to close the Caern to us for a time while rejuvenating it. We'll likely lose Chimera. We, the Garou, had better get out of its way, because we can't stop it. We need to create safe spaces elsewhere while all this is going on, primarily here in the city but other places too."
Lefty is nodding along with the Silver Fang as she goes through the scenario. The mention of Chimera's leaving is met with a slip of her usual grin. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Mouse has asked us all to bring stones for the rite, at moot."
Lefty adds quickly with a wave around the library, "and another reason for me finding this place."
"I'd heard," Shelby nods, about the rocks. "I've been trying to figure out where I'll find one. I mean, the size of your head? They aren't just lying around by the side of the road." She tries to estimate the size, but the can in her hand makes the exercise problematical. "And it's a good idea. I mean, the Walker's tenement is great, but there are only so many people you can pack into it. Especially on a big moon."
Lefty offers, "Try down by the river. The Columbia will give you one, I bet." The latter is nodded at, as well. "Yeah. I mean, we got some places to put people. But it never hurts to have more."
Shelby looks, for a moment, as though she's been slapped with a fish. "I... yes, of course. I was going to look around the scarred forest, but of course the river is a better place. More likely, anyway."
Lefty seems amused and offers the Silver Fang a small nod as a gesture that says 'you're welcome'. Then, the Gnawer grows serious again. "I know we're likely to lose the caern, but, do you really think all the sept's garou will need to vacate to the city? I mean, I can't see the Talons...but even the others. They already have places that they actually live in, don't they?"
Shelby has only a small shrug and twist of lips. "Don't know. Maybe? It seems that all the clues point to the city, don't they? The silver fountain in the ark dream seems to say Harbor Park to me. But yes, I agree that a lot of the Garou won't be comfortable here. So I hope that we'll be able to scatter to our various areas and be safe. It'll make gathering for Moot tricky, though."
Lefty glances around the old library with a bit of pride. "Well, if it comes to it, we'll have room here for a few. Maybe a bit more than a few. I'll have the bathrooms up and ready in a week or so. Maybe two. She'll be a good little place when I'm done."
"I wish I knew how to help," the Fang claims, looking about. "But all I know about houses comes from watching decorating shows with my grandpere. I can tell you to accessorize in odd numbers, or paint dark colors to make the wood pop, but that's about as far as I go. Still, if you do need help, ask. I can't promise I can do anything, but if I can, I will."
Lefty's grin widens again as her gaze travels over the silver Fang again. "Ok. I'll do that. Thanks. And if you hear anything else, gimme a call ok?"
Shelby nods. "-Which reminds me." She digs out her phone and looks attentive. "What's your number? Then I can text you with mine."
"Oh," Lefty says, setting the near empty bottle down to fish out her own cell. She rattles off the number after actually looking it up. She gives the Silver Fang a sheepish grin. "Don't really use it too often."
Shelby, with the ease of someone whose thumbs grew up doing this, punches in the number (or at least theoretically does so. It could be something from the Dewey Decimal system instead). "Hard to give you a call if you won't answer it," she observes, teasing. "I've got mine on me most of the time - and if I don't, it's because I'm four-legged."
Lefty chuckles under her breath, accepting the teasing with a nod. "I'm trying to be better with it. Sometimes it's hard to teach old dogs new tricks."
"At least you're willing to acknowledge the existence of cell phones," the other Ragabash says frankly. "Sunlit Waters, where I grew up, is a Lion sept. The Garou there couldn't use any technology less than fifty years old. He didn't care so much about the kin, thankfully."
Lefty mouths the word 'wow' and shakes her head, amusement in her eyes. "No, I'm not averse to new technology. I usually just can't afford it. The lot of the Gnawer. But I got good friends." There is that ever-present grin again. "But I better get back to the bathroom, or the crap is going to cement in the bucket and the tile will never get put up."
Shelby rises easily, bringing her Coke with her. "Good friends are important. Mind if I poke about? Call me shallow, but," she waggles a foot, "I'd rather not get these covered in whatever it is you have in the bucket. Otherwise I'd come keep you company."
Lefty waves a hand. "No. Be my guest." The Gnawer steals a second cookie before moving towards the bathrooms. Through the open door, she shouts back, "Haven't done much to the upstairs yet."
Shelby calls back, "Noted!" as she moves off. Her heels click-click against the floor, then the stairs as she disappears into the aether.