"A good wine with a good meal is like kicking the Wyrm in the nuts right after you smash it in the mouth."

Brownstone -- Basement Apt.(#3328RJ)
The basement of the brownstone has been split into two sections. The stairwell leads down into the northwest corner section, which contains the boiler room, furnace, and the elevator shaft. The rest has been converted into another apartment, and Signe's made it into a rather fortified one at that. The only entrance is through a re-enforced steel door with no less than three dead-bolts. There are absolutely no windows at all in any of the four concrete and brick walls. It's a rather stark but functional space. Overhead, the air ducts and plumbing pipes are exposed, while the cement floor is covered by a ragged dark wine and gold Oriental throw rug. A makeshift shelving unit of two-by-fours and cinder block has been erected along the length of the wall with the door, and it houses a stereo, tv and old vcr. Directly opposite this is a beat-up leather couch and two mismatched recliners. The kitchen is small but functional, with a round wooden table and four chairs. Half of the back end of the building has been walled off for a private bedroom, while the rest is open to the living area. This space has been converted into a home gym--complete with wrestling mats, weights, and a full weight boxing bag.

The Smallest Fostern is in the apartment today and idly flipping through a Fitness magazine. A beer in hand, and a bag of chips beside her, it paints the picture of one of those 'skinny' girls that can eat what they want with no worry of where it will land.

A buzz from the doorbell heralds the arrival of the Handsomest Fostern. He stands tall and immaculate on the step, a bottle of wine dangling from his left hand.

Emma rises up, landing one last chip into her mouth as she moves to answer the door. It is opened up and a faint smile given, "Come on in." Her eyes land on that bottle, and she squints at it for a moment. "I guess I don't need to offer you anything to drink."

Cedric proffers the wine to Emma. It's an Italian red, good quality. "You're the hostess for the evenin'," he murmurs politely, "so I thought it only polite to bring drink. Especially knowin' your tribe's fondness for grape and grain. Second only to the jolly old Fianna."

Emma takes the bottle and nods, "Thanks." She has the slightest look of not knowing what to do with it, before moving to the counter and setting it there. "More experienced with the grain so far in my years. Is that going to go well with pizza?" She returns to tidy the couch, hiding the chips and beer bottle away.

"They're both Italian. Go together as well as Marco and Giuseppe," Cedric assures her. "If you'd sooner go with beer, your prerogative. But a good wine with a good meal is like kicking the Wyrm in the nuts right after you smash it in the mouth," he rhapsodizes. "Either's good, but put them together and it's even more awesome."

Emma throws up a shoulder, "I don't have any fancy glasses. I hope Solo-ware is alright for that stuff. What do you want on the pizza? I'll call it in."

"Good glasses help wine," Cedric continues, "but a decent wine is still good even drunk from a tumbler. Hell, when I was eighteen I used to drink Chateau Yquem straight from the bottle in nightclubs. I should have been shot... not that it'd have stopped me, of course..." He grins broadly. "Pizza, pizza. Hm. Some kind of meat? Whatever you like? And fresh sliced tomato if you can bear it. I love that on a pizza."

Emma nods her head and reaches to the phone. A single button dials the restaurant and a sausage and tomato slice pizza is ordered. Once the phone is hung up, she moves to the cupboards and pulls out two short glasses. "Ok, so it's a step up from plastic." She sets them near the wine bottle and then moves to the couch. "Alright. So, take it from the top then?"

"One doesn't open wine at the bottom," Cedric drawls playfully. Then he feigns comprehension. "Ah, you mean our workin' together. Yes. The answer's still yes, if the offer's still there. And you have my word I'll put my last ounce of effort in."

Emma takes in a sharp breath, "Alright. Well, I propose you come with us for a week or so of patrols. Get to see what we do, how we do it, where we do it at. You find yourself liking the battlefield we rove on, and we like what you bring to it, then we take the next step. -If you want to that is; you'll meet Vex and can choose whether or not you want to be full fledged, or just a helpful sidekick."

"So tell me about Vex?" Cedric prompts. "While I open this bottle? Would you have a corkscrew, or do I need to run out to the shottle bop?"

"Top drawer, left of stove." Emma lands herself onto the couch. "Vex is... well he is a hundred fifty percent wolverine. His judgement of those that seek packing under him is not easy, nor gentle. I dunno what else you want me to say?"

"Wolverines aren't native to Britain," Cedric reminds Emma, "and I've never packed under one, nor even known anyone who did. Does he have steel claws and a bad attitude, or is that just his comic book namesake?" He rummages and finds the corkscrew, applies it to the bottle and starts to draw out the cork with an expert air.

Emma laughs a little. "Well, lets say there is a very good reason they named said comic Wolverine. In the natural world, a wolverine will stand up against even a bear. And when cornered, there is such ferocity that you'd think it believed itself a giant against his foe." She pauses a moment, "Picture a weasel -- that little demon of destruction, that small atom of insensate courage, that symbol of slaughter, sleeplessness, and tireless, incredible activity -- picture that scrap of demoniac fury, multiply that mite some fifty times, and you have the likeness of a Wolverine. -Heard that somewhere in school once. Anyway. Merciless. And he demands the same of his children."

"So nix on the cute, cuddly fuzzball type stuff?" Cedric smiles slightly as he pours the wine. "Mmm. Listen, Emma. I'm not saying this to rake up what's past, but one thing I hope you retain from our little encounter the other day if you put all the rest of it behind you... is that when I need to be an ass kicker, I kick asses. And I can go from one state of being to the other faster than a Lotus Seven can do nought to sixty."

Emma glances up, solemn and more careful in her words. "You're Fostern. I have no doubt your claws carry with them a lot of experience. Likewise, if you were to keep one thing in mind, I'd hope it would be that I have -only- ever packed under Wolverine, and the fact that you are not considered my foe, changes the field entirely- and in your favor."

"I've been round the block some," Cedric murmurs nonchalantly. "And yes. You're not my foe, and Gaia grant that we shall never be enemies." He lifts the glass in a toast to that wish. "All right. A week of patrols round the city. How much of St Claire do you claim? That little Bone Gnawer guy has a pack in town too, I was hearing?"

Emma lifts her glass as well. "West Bridge street, industrial sector, to just west of th 13th. The slummy spots. We ran into a rather large drug operation a year or so ago. That was messy. Almost lost the then alpha of the pack to it. It took a big hit, but like weeds, its popping back up."

The buzzer rings as the pizza arrives.

Cedric stands aside to let Emma answer the door to the pizza guy. "That's round about where I met you at the start of the week?" he queries as she exchanges money for food in the time-honoured fashion. "Not very pleasin' on the eye. But the parts of the world which require policin' by us rarely are."

Emma nods her head, "Yeah, that's about where we met." The pizza box is taken and set on the counter, the lid opened to let the aroma out. "Have you met Laura yet? She's another that'll have to give her stamp of approval on you."

Cedric smiles widely as he selects a slice of pizza with plenty of tomato on. "I have indeed met Laura. A charmin' woman, and a strikin' one. Not everyone who could carry a baby and still look as good as her. But I hope until it's born, she's spared front rank duty?"

"Yes, she is. Another good reason to fill our numbers with males." She lets out a slight grumble and then bites into her slice as well. "There's another. KL. She is, out wandering again, I think. She's a Fury, though you'd never guess. More Strider than most Striders I met."

"I get on well with Furies," Cedric states confidently. There's a definite unspoken suggestion of "...because they're women," in his statement. "Will you need to wait for her to come back from walkabout to meet me, or can you take her consent as given in her absence?"

"Oh she doesn't get a say in things at this point. It was more of a heads up. You've met Grey of course. You are aware of his.. reputation?" she asks gingerly.

Cedric cocks his head on one side and licks a stray blob of tomato sauce from the corner of his mouth. "As a curmudgeon?" he enquires.

"Beyond that. He is a charach. An twice over, an ex-fostern." Emma levels her gaze at the Fang very carefully now, studying his reaction.

Cedric 's head remains at a slight angle, betraying no reaction in words or in looks. Only the fact that he holds his silence for several seconds hints that the Silver Fang may find this fact less than palatable. "How very unfortunate," he finally says. It would be easy to imbue the words with sarcasm or venom, but Cedric delivers them straight. "I had rather wondered what a chap like him was doing as a cliath still. Now I suppose I know." He straightens his head and looks at Emma. "Is he the sort to go driftin' into bad ways again, or can we count on him to toe the line now? I'm guessin' the latter, or you wouldn't be associatin' with him."

"I have never seen a man with such loyalty as Grey. He has experience beyond his years. He knows things that I can only speculate about." Emma sets her pizza slice down, wipes her hands on her jeans and then sips from the wine. "I am no charity worker. But a Garou like that deserves a chance. Deserves a place. Maybe that's why I have his loyalty now- but no, I don't believe he will drift again."

"You know him better than I," Cedric states flatly. "And if I'm to follow you, I must trust your judgment, what? So if you say he's a good egg, I won't call him a bad one." He finishes his sliver of pizza and follows it with a sip of wine. "Any other live issues needin' to be straightened out?"

Emma grins a little, "I never said he was a good egg. I said he was a good Garou, with a lot of experience, and loyalty that will make your head spin. There's nothing about being a good chap in there." She takes a second slice and then leans back. "I think that's about all I can offer up as a job description."

"Loyal is good," Cedric says. "Glass Walkers vary tremendously in that regard. So. Let's see." His hand, now empty of pizza, is used to count on fingers. "Get, Silver Fang, Glass Walker, Fury, Fury. Ahroun, Galliard, Philodox... Theurge... Is KL a ragabash? Have we got a full set?"

"Ahroun. I make quick friends with Fury ahrouns. It's a hobby of mine." The smirk on her features suggests just how she might go about it. "We are looking at Tu also."

"At...?" Cedric cups a hand round his ear. "Sorry, didn't catch that. Looking at two what?"

Emma shakes her head, "Tu is the Walker elder in town. Ragabash. He'd round out the pack."

"Funny name," Cedric drawls. "Don't think I've met any of Roach's babies exceptin' Grey. Is he joinin' on probation too?" He selects another triangle of pizza.

Emma rolls a shoulder upward, "Grey has to ask if there is even interest. But then, yes. Same routine."

"Okay then." Cedric looks at Emma over the pizza. "Are we all geared up now? No more nasty little surprises to trip over? And if so, shall we drink to the pack and the totem?"

Emma nods her head, pondering one more little trick of a surprise. "Well. Maybe there is one more thing. Grey used to be one of Grandfather Thunders children. Though you may have noticed that anyway. There," she says, glass coming up. "Now we are all geared up."

Cedric clicks his fingers with the hand not holding pizza. "I thought he had that look," he crows. "Well, what a fellow was before he renounced is no concern of mine, I suppose." he picks up the glass. "To you, to me, to our packmates and to Vex -- may our claws strike swift and true."

Emma lifts her wine. "Cheers." The glasses meet and the wine is sipped again, the Get giving an odd face as her untrained palate is lathered with the bold taste.

Cedric seems, on the contrary, to enjoy the wine greatly. Once the toast is drunk, he sips again. "What now?" he asks. "Feel like sitting down comfortably and swapping stories? I'd like to get to know you better." He gives Emma a quick smile, flashing those gleaming white (silver?) teeth.

Emma grins, "Sure, I got nothing else planned, and we have a bottle of wine and a half pizza left." She gets more comfortable on the couch and looks ready for the long haul.