"I can tell I'm settin' Scott's nerves janglin' just by my presence in a small room with him. "

Industrial Sector, Southwest Side
Several blocks encompassing the southern ends of 13th, 14th and 15th Streets extend in an area poor and abandoned, with but a few businesses struggling to survive. Along the northern edge of the district is a junk yard filled with old washers, dryers, tires, and the myriad other elements of human-created unrecycled waste. Smoke pours from a few factories, and the more productive factories to the east combine with it to lay a thin film of dark ash across much of the streets. Other factories, and warehouses between them, lie abandoned or are home to the poor; at night, from some of those with windows, the orange glow of oil drums used for heating and light shine dully through the grime. Small shops serve the few factory workers who remain in the area beyond the end of the working day, or during the lunch hours grudgingly allowed. In the northeastern corner there is slightly more activity in bars offering drinking and even some gambling in dark corners. Along this stretch of street, the alleyways have stairways to second-floor rooms, with the occasional alley entrance occupied evening and night by painted women making blatant offers to the male passersby. Southwards, on the southern side of Grym Broders Avenue, the train station falls into disrepair similar to the rest of the area.

The cloudy day and cool temperatures have Emma wearing that old brown leather coat that was bestowed upon her by her one time alpha and jarl. She has a cup of coffee in her hands, a new habit as of... today, and is sipping at it as she walks out of the shop.

The neat figure in the hand-tailored suit looks very much out of place as he comes bustling along the road in this ill-favoured part of the city. Somehow, though, he seems to carry a little bubble of peace and calm around him, as though surrounded by an invisible barrier impervious to the envious glances of the disadvantaged, potential thefts or assaults. Indeed, pretty much everyone gets out of his way, which is why he nearly stumbles into the one person who doesn't. "I do beg your pardon," he says to Emma in his best cut-glass accent, before he exclaims "Why, it's you!"

Emma looks up from her coffee, nearly spilled, but safe in her grasp. The first glare was vicious, but it thins out rapidly and she chuckles, "Odd spot to find you. Like a lily in the desert." She sips from her styrofoam cup and glances around. "What brings you out here?"

"Quarterin' the city," Cedric replies. "Lookin' for a couple of needles in a damned dirty haystack. Two guys with one workin' pair of eyes between them, if you catch my drift, mmm?" The eyebrow above one of his two clear, hazel, and apparently fully functional eyes rises meaningfully.

"Grey and Basil? I just spoke with Grey this morning, but finding him again will be, like you said, a needle in a haystack. Something I can help you with maybe?" she wonders aloud. Emma nods her head then, "Come back to the brownstone with me. You'll know one of our places then."

"Yes, those two. Grey wasn't in his apartment this morning. Or not answering the bell, anyway. You have a base here in town too?" Cedric seems surprised to find that the Get operate out of the city. "By all means, I'd love to see it. And we can talk more easily indoors."

Emma nods her head, "Hardly a base. More like a rat cellar. Uh, and I haven't cleaned up since getting back so. Consider that your warning." She starts walking back toward the brownstone, watching the other carefully, gauging his city presence and experience.

Cedric seems to work on the principle of 'visible policing'. Either that or he just doesn't care that he stands out like a good deed in a naughty world as he strides back up the avenue with Emma. He may not be camouflaged, but he doesn't seem at all nervous of the mean streets.

Emma leads the duo back to the apartment and goes toward the basement level. She goes about the unbolting of locks until finally the industrial strength door opens. She lets the other in first, grinning. "Home sweet home."

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.

Cedric follows Emma into the room. "Nice and secure," he comments politely as he looks around, holding one arm out horizontally for what seems like no very good reason. "Nobody's going to break in here in a hurry, what?"

The basement apartment is flooded with empty beer bottles and a stained, but lifeless pizza box. The faint scent of this mornings coffee still lingers as the two enter. "Yeah, or out. We've used this place as a stopover for new cubs, so it's as much for our safety, as the outside worlds. There's uh - not much left but whatever you find in the fridge is free for grabs." The coat comes off and Emma looks around again, frowning in thought. "What were you after Grey for?"

"Someone said he might know about real estate out towards the bawn edge," Cedric replies. "Basil said he could find out too. Lookin' for a place I can stash my tribemates away safely and have room for the odd cub or indigent garou. Serve as my chiminage too. Vera-rhya herself suggested it."

Emma huhs and nods, "Alright. Well in the meantime, this place is open to any new cub that needs to be stowed away - at least temporarily." She pushes a box aside and starts moving to clean up the bottles. "You're planning to stay on then, right? Any intention of forming a pack, or joining up an existing one?"

Outside the apartment, Scott, with a case of beer in his arms and a heavy looking plastic bag hanging off one as well makes his way towards the front door. With a huff he kicks the door 'gently', and calls out. "Package for Miss Mauler!".

"Depends," Cedric says. "If Falcon wishes it, I'll pack. And I'll stay as long as he tells me I'm needed. I follow where he leads. Don't just wander aimlessly round the world for the sake of it, y'know?" As he asks the question, there's a banging noise at the door.

Emma frowns a little, and through the muffle of the door doesn't recognize the voice. "Last time a package came here, I earned a scar for the trouble. Keep an eye out." She moves to the peephole and upon looking out, frowns, and waves a hand. "Kin." The door opens and the young Get gives the other an odd look, "Got company here, but you're welcome in on it." That offered, she moves out of the way for the other.

Scott gives Emma a big dopey grin. "Hey-" He pauses at the mention of company and warily looks inside, then glances left and right before walking inside. "I brought you some booze, and a present." The Kin walks into the apartment and eyes Cedric for a minute, nodding at him before moving to set down the bag and beer somewhere.

Scott is not the most youthful looking of men, though he's certainly got an active life. Standing at a height of six foot, six inches tall, he's a good head and shoulders above the average height. His face looks as though it was messily chiseled from a coarse brick. His brown eyes seem to survey the world with a bit of curiosity, and wariness of those around him. It's something not reflected in his body language, his confident posture or bold strides. The man's face is without even the slightest bit of stubble and his black hair is worn in a simple high and tight. A closer look will show that he has a small scar on the crest of his chin. He wears a simple pair of green fatigues tucked into a pair of engineer boots, along with a plain grey t-shirt and jacket similar to his pants.

Cedric gives Scott a polite nod and stands well back, saying nothing for now. It isn't he whom Scott has come to see, after all.

Emma gives a nod, "Yeah alright Scott. Thanks." She doesn't seem to make any motion toward beer, box or boy at all, and instead turns back to Cedric. "Cedric, Scott. Scott, Cedric." She pauses, nodding to the Fang first, "Fostern Galliard of the Fangs," then nodding to Scott, "Kinfolk of the Shadowlords. You two can handle the rest."

Scott simply waves at Cedric and takes a seat at the kitchen table with his bag nearby, leaning partially ontop of it. "This isn't even all the booze, but I'm not going to get the rest of it right now. So uh... Am I interrupting anything important?"

Cedric's nod deepens a little when Emma gives Scott's tribe of kinship. "Not at all," he replies. "Emma was simply showin' me her house. I'm lookin' for one to call my own, but not in the city. I haven't been in town long."

Emma turns back to the Fang. "You're looking for property bawnside then, but would you be willing to fight the forefront of the battle?"

Scott simply nods a bit at Cedric, and sits with an upright posture and his hands folded in his lap, watching the conversation go back and forth.

Cedric raises one eyebrow at Emma once more. "I should jolly well think so," he responds, slightly more warmly than his usual laconic way of speaking. Again he holds one hand out from his body in a near-straight line. "Why? There a big rumble comin' up?"

Emma shakes her head, "Well no, not immediately, but it's like a hive of bees, you just need to hit it once and the swarm starts. Point being, and I'll cut to the chase, I'd like you to hang around city side a while, -if you're inclined to the idea. If you like to bloody your claws and kick the enemy where it hurts most, I've a good need for a Galliard in Havoc." She shrugs, "In the meanwhile, if you stick around a week or so and find it not up your ally, then we shake hands and part ways until another day." The Ahroun seems to be making an effort to not glance in the direction of the seated kin during this exchange.

Meanwhile, Scott seems to have taken to twiddling his thumbs and quietly singing his own rendition of. "I wish I were an Oscar Meyer wiener." Eventually the Kin gets up from his seat and starts to rummage through the fridge like a badger in a log, looking for food.

"I see," is all Cedric says at first. He takes the seat Scott vacates, and sits, staring at his own forearm for a long silent spell before speaking again. "You must understand," he says, "that a Silver Fang isn't generally born to follow. But the name of Havoc is not unknown to me, and neither is the fact that one of my tribe ran with you before. Let me speak to Osric about it, and make a final decision shortly -- perhaps tomorrow?"

Emma squints, "Osric? And I know that putting a Fang and Get together like that makes for some interesting volleys, but Clemency and I got to be closer than mere packmates. It's workable." She looks over to Scott then, just briefly, then returns attention to the Fang. "But I'm not asking you to make a full blown decision yet- just asking if you're interested, and if you are, to take some time patrolling with us. We'll see if it's a fit or not."

Scott eventually comes up with a carton of eggs, and quietly rummages through the kitchen with them in one meaty hand looking for a pot. Within a few minutes the Kin is boiling a handful of eggs in a pot and watching the water rise to a boil, his fingers tapping on the stove and counter.

"Osric," repeats Cedric. "The personification of Falcon in spirit form. My guardian, my guide, my companion. Through him, Falcon makes his will known to me, his chosen one." He smiles modestly, though it may be noted that he's watching both Emma and Scott keenly to gage their reaction.

Emma nods her head, "Well hopefully Osric communicates more gently than Vex does. Take your time with it - and hell if you want to come along anyway, feel free. With losing Clemency, and our theurge growing her stomach out, we could use a few more feet on the streets." Her gaze goes back to the kin then, narrowing, but not saying anything.

Scott seems to pause his finger tapping for a minute, but he doesn't say anything, instead just watching his eggs boil. Briefly he glances back at Emma and Cedric, but seeing her glare, he quickly looks back at his meal.

"Well," Cedric drawls, his speech returning to its typical style, "I shouldn't detain you chaps. I can tell I'm settin' Scott's nerves janglin' just by my presence in a small room with him. I'll stagger on back to my hotel for now, and catch up with you tomorrow, Emma?" He rises from the chair.

Emma nods her head to the Fang, "I'd like that Cedric. Here," she offers quickly, grabbing up a pen and spare napkin to jot something down on. "The phone number here, if you need anything, just call." She moves to escort the Galliard out as well, making no comment about the kin.

Scott tenses up when he hears himself mentioned, but his broad shoulders sink back down again after a second. The large man at the stove bats at his eggs in the pot with a spoon, glancing back as Cedric goes to call out a simple. "G'bye Cedric."

Cedric makes an unhurried departure, taking Emma's offered number graciously. "Until tomorrow."