"Are you friends of Vera? -- terrible damn' thing to ask anyone, that, it sounds too much like 'friends of Dorothy'."

Porch
A lathe-turned wooden railing runs the length of the porch save where the steps are, well-worn with use. To the right of the stairs, a wide swing is suspended from the overhang which shelters this area; to the left, a small table is the centerpiece for several chairs pulled around it, all of which face out to the front yard and the fields and trees beyond. The bright colors of fall lend an atmosphere of wistful remembrance to this place, a memory of the summer past, and the knowledge of winter to come. Fallen flower petals dust the earth around the base of the low shrubs surrounding the porch, their delicate brittleness testament to the closing of the cycle.
An aging screen door newly refurbished stands between the heavy inner door of the house and the outside air. Four steps lead down to the lane, a number of pots with small flower seedling carefully arranged alongside them.

Basil for the most part, however, doesn't seem to be one of the afflicted. Walking out of the farmhouse with a beer in one hand and scratching himself with the other, wearing nothing but a tattered pair of shorts, he broadly yawns and chops his lips. "Fuckin' hell it's boring out here." Slowly his eye turns to Cole when he realizes he's there, and the Gnawer flashes a sleepy smile. "Eyyyyy." Basil calls out to Cole, imitating The Fonz.

Cole looks up when he's addressed and flashes Basil a tight smile. "Yeah, very boring. What're you up to?" The magazine is now completely forgotten, pushed aside. He's wearing a green flannel button down shirt as well as his elderly pair of jeans.

A sound of an engine is heard, and a gleaming yellow sports car comes up from the lane and round the side of the farmhouse. The top is down and the driver's hair is blowing about in the wind. It disappears round into the barnyard.

"Actually, I was kinda lookin' for you. I wanted to ask you about the thing. The thing?" Basil implies, leaning over slightly with one cocked brow. "That and the-" He looks over at the sound of a car coming down the lane, then shrugs and looks back to Cole. "The Gnawers have a new cub, I was wondering if you'd go by sometime, say hello, tell'm about the Fianna and maybe a story or something. I couldn't think of anyone better to ask, and I'd like him to meet the best person from each Tribe I can find first."

Cole's mouth twitches in something that might be a smile. "The thing? The Kinfolk thing," he asks, before the sounds of the sports car catch his attention. He cocks his head to listen for a moment, his brows furrowing. "What's the cub's name? I'd be glad to introduce myself when I head into the city next."

The sound of the car engine dies. It's followed by the opening and closing of a car door.

"Yeah, the thing. I was kind of hoping for an answer before the moon got dim again, so we could hang out some more and stuff." Basil grins, almost seeming sheepish for a moment. "If you'd actually needed my help at the fire, I could hold that over your head. But noooo, you had to be all strong and stuff. The cub's name is Sean. He's supposed to be a Philodox, I think. His cub name's Red-Light."

Cole holds up a hand. "The short answer is: Maybe. The slightly longer answer is ask him yourself. I won't stand in the way of what people want. But," And he looks up at Basil as he says the next words. "I expect that the both of you, no matter what may result, will do your duty to Gaia when the time comes. If I come to grief over this decision, I will end anything that might happen. Probably not what you wanted to hear, but that's the deal."

So saying, Cole turns his head towards the door. "But let's just see who our visitor is."

Morgan comes out from the house, closing the screen door behind her.
Morgan has arrived.

Round the side of the house comes said visitor, straightening his hair with his hands as he comes. "I thought I saw people around here," he says as he spies Basil and Cole. "Are you friends of Vera? -- terrible damn' thing to ask anyone, that, it sounds too much like 'friends of Dorothy'."

"I wouldn't ask you if he wasn't interested. I already told him he can do the breeding thing if a Fianna or anyone else needs a stud, and I won't hold it against him if he wanders off eventually for a Fianna girl. I'll do that thing too, but I'd need someone to do that with first. I've only met one Bee-Gee Kin and she was tied up to a nutter." Basil lifts his hands, then drops them, turning to look in the direction Cole indicates. "I'm not a friend, but I am family. I'm sure she'd appreciate that response, and smile in a 'I'm either amused or I'm going to shank you in the back' sort of way that she does."

Cole nods to Basil. "Well, then, I guess that's settled." He looks as if he's still not one hundred percent ducky with something about the situation, but is content enough not to voice that. When the stranger comes in, he cocks a brow. "Basil here's got it right. Family. But you might say we're not that close. I'm guessing you're family as well." A smirk curls one side of his mouth. "Family resemblance, you might say."

The sound of someone opening the front door to step outside comes at almost the same time as a rather loud sneeze. As one might expect, the messy haired metis is wearing her usual, absolutely woebegone winter coat, with one hand holding it firmly closed in front, but her other hand, once it's no longer occupied with the door, brushes furiously at the dust flecks clinging to her nose.

"Gesundheit," the newcomer says with perfect timing at the sneeze. "Yes, my face betrays my origins to those who know. Cedric Ambermere's my name." He leans against the porch rail and extends one hand in a strange way as though picking something out of the air. "Fostern and galliard. Silver Fang. Salutations to you all."

Basil takes a better look at the Silver Fang in front of him, as if slowly waking up. The Gnawer rubs at his eye, then cracks open his beer and taking a long pull before almost muttering out. "Hey Morgan." He glances back at Cole, then at the Fang again, from head to toe. "You look kinda like a Western Onizuka." Basil takes the offered hand and gives it a good strong shake, looking up at Cedric's face. "M'name's Basil Jameson, Bone Gnawer, Ahroun. Kills-the-Cries of the Vendetta pack."

Cole looks over at the sneeze, rolling his eyes when he spots his tribemate. "Bless you, Morgan. Going somewhere?" He flicks his gaze back to Cedric and takes the apparently offered hand. "Brian Cole, Cliath Moondancer of the Fianna, Elder of the Fianna and Beta of the Wildfire pack. Howls-for-Glory when 'Cole's too hard to pronounce." A faint smile is offered to top off the introduction.

Morgan blinks at Cedric. "Gesunahate?" Basil gets an acknowledging glance, and Cole--though Cole gets an almost as bewildered look at his response to the sneeze--and then she turns her attention back to the unfamiliar Fang. Her response is fairly by rote, and it's obvious. "Morgan Whelan, Song-of-Luna, Fianna Metis Galliard Cliath. Sometimes called Bug. Also member of Vendetta pack."

"Aha!" Cedric exclaims. "Cole who runs the farmhouse. I've been hoping to find you. And a pleasure too, Morgan, Basil." He favours both Vendetta-ites with a gleaming smile, and if his eyes linger on the meaningful scar on Basil's chest they do so almost imperceptibly. "Perhaps one or more of you may be able to help me. Do you know of any houses out here that might be for sale? Money is not particularly an object, but location is vital, as the jolly old realtors say in their brochures." He gives the last word a British pronunciation, accent on the first syllable.

Cole's smile blooms into a bit more substantial life at the exclaimation. "That would be me," he agrees affably enough. "Houses nearby? Hm. I haven't exactly been keeping my eye on the real estate situation, so I don't think I can be any real help. But I know there's lots of construction coming too close to the Bawn for comfort." This draws down his brows in a stormy scowl. "Have you talked to your tribemates here?"

"I do. I did some looking around for someone before, so I have an idea of what's for sale in areas, costs and stuff. I'm guessing for you money isn't an object?" Basil smirks a little, then looks at Morgan to explain. "It's a thing you say after people sneeze. It's a human thing." Basil looks back at Cole, then shakes his head at him. "The Alpha of the Fangs is B-R right now, and she's a Lupus. She doesn't want a house or have the money for one. Last I knew, the other was Justin, he ain't got money either, and a Metis... Yeah, theres a trend. Mathias sold the Fang house when he left."

Morgan grunts at Basil's explanation, though she seems utterly satisfied by it. As for the conversation about real estate...well, she clearly knows about as much about that as about responses to sneezes. She remains in place, rocking slightly on her heels, looking rather lost.

"I know Swims-the-Black-River," Cedric replies to Basil, giving the lupus her full name. "Perhaps regrettably, she was overruled in setting chiminage for me by Vera-rhya. Vera says the sept needs another physical house, as near the bawn as possible, and also that my tribe needs it too. So the suggestion is that I use a spot of the family money to buy one, and then throw it open to you chaps. Basil, can you elucidate a tiny bit? Where's there houses for sale out here? There was one, but I found out it got sold just a week or two back."

Cole leans back against the kitchen table. He shoots a look at Morgan, managing a warm expression for his tribemate. "What have you been up to, Morgan?"

Morgan gives a one shouldered shrug. "Been in woods," she says, unhelpfully. "Sometime talk to Sophie-yuf."

"How about I go lookin' around and get you a variety of houses in different areas, different types and styles, stuff like that? I can even see about getting it in a pack's territory for added security. I know the area a lot more than you do, and haven't got a motive to cheat you. If you don't mind taking help from a rotten Bone Gnawer Charach, that is." Basil smiles at Cedric, tipping his head slightly. "No, really, I don't mind. We need more holdins in the area."

Cedric flinches a little at Basil's description of himself. "If you're in a position to do so," he replies, "it'd be much appreciated. I don't know about pack territory, though. I don't want to come stampin' in and tread on toes. I'm only here on suffrance, so far, right, Cole?" he says, turning to Cole, and sneaking a curious glance at Morgan in as he does so.

Cole tsks softly at Morgan. "From a Galliard, that's the best you can tell me about the past month or two? Morgan, you mean to tell me that nothing exciting has happened?" He interrupts his chiding to blink once at Cedric. "So far," he agrees. "But I somehow get the impression you're not looking to get thrown out." This is given with a wry grin.

Morgan's cheeks color considerably. "Am sorry, Cole-rhya."

"As far as I'm concerned you're innocent until proven guilty. Besides, a pack would have to be kind'a fuckin' stupid not to notice someone up to no good in their territory, unless he's a BSD Ragabash on a Rambo-mission. Besides, you're a Fostern and a Silver Fang. Some people might question some Tribes, like the Shadow Lords. But someone with your breedin' ain't going to get where you are without a spotless record, or, really good assassin skills and contacts. So. What're you again? Auspice I mean." Basil asks, unable to help but smirk a little.

Cedric turns and, a little disconcertingly, chuckles in the direction of the arm he's still holding outstretched. "Oh, no, definitely not, Cole," he agrees. Then he looks back to Basil. "I'm a galliard. Speak not your secrets in mine ear," he quips. "And yes, I try to maintain my family escutcheon in a spotless state. But mere good manners demand that I not set up shop on someone's turf without at least warning them, right?" He smiles. "If I may, I'll return in a little while and we can talk some more. I need to exercise Osric." With which cryptic remark he starts to stride off.