GAME> Saturday, Feb 05 17:53:01 2011 - Winter Night < Blizzard >
Yellow Bungalow: Living Room - Taylor Street: Little Italy
This likely used to be a small living room and a smaller dining room, but it has been opened up to a single space. The floors are old wood that, though recently stripped and waxed, show years of wear. Windows face the drive to the south and open west to the front porch. At the east side of the room, an arched opening in the south corner leads to the kitchen, and a hallway on the north side runs to the back of the house. The walls are painted off-white, almost cream, and show signs of having been patched.
A Mission-style hall tree with mirror, storage bench, and hooks for hanging coats stands next to the front door. Beyond it, a brown leather couch and matching oversized chair form a sitting area around a red and green Oriental-style rug, with a side table for the chair and a low green chest serving as a coffee table. These face the shelving unit that holds a television, audio equipment, a sparse rack of CDs, and a few, mostly practical books. A round table set with four ladder-backed chairs sits in front of the bay window at the west side of the room. One picture hangs over the couch, another over a shallow table holding a cordless phone that is set against the east wall.
Robert's SUV is driven as a sensible man would, within the city speed limited and parked neatly on the drive beside his front door. The man himself ignores the blizzard that scatters white over his dreadlocks and shoulders, locking it securely before he heads for his front door. His face is thoughtful, the neutral mask comfortably in place, his thoughts hidden.
The Wrangler that Monty tends to drive is nowhere to be seen at the moment but that probably doesn't keep the hint of his scent completely out of the blustery wind. It's not that he's hiding or anything, but maybe he's been waiting. His approach is a slow, unthreatening one and he keeps his distance in the end. "Didn't really get that feeling from you," Monty tells him.
Robert turns, giving the man a look of interest, before he opens the door, indicating he should step through. "That feeling?" He questions, the reply steady, cautious, his expression revealing very little. As he steps through the door himself, he turns off the alarm, closing the door firmly, leading Monty through to the kitchen.
There's a sound to suggest that's what he means and there's no explanation offered by Monty for it. It is what it is. But he continues as he moves for the door and inside, a respectful sort of tension in both his energy and muscles. "Not saying it's a bad thing. Not at all." He follows along, breathing in the scents of the house as he goes. It makes his energy shiver before it settles again.
Robert slants the other man a look before he smiles wryly, reaching for a coffee pot, lifting it questioningly. "I decided it was needful. The loss of the Munin is not acceptable." His voice is steady, soft, even and he pours himself a mugful, certain of his own desire if nothing else. His energy is there, a steady thing of warmth.
"Please," Monty says with a nod for the coffee. "And it's not, no. I though I might be stuck becoming some crazy hermit out there to protect the grounds." There's some hint of sincerity in his voice that probably means he's a tiny bit serious in his joking. "Already been awhile since I've spent much time with others. Hard to go from that," he gestures vaguely at Robert, "to me now." Train of thought talking there.
Monty's half joke is met with a brief flicker of the rare, wry smile. He offers the other man a mug, a silent gesture before he turns a chair around to straddle it, resting his mug on the table, his arms folded across it's back. "Take a seat, Monty. I have an offer for you." His face is as neutral as ever, as serious as he takes everything, but the man's eyes watch Monty, a faintly wolf like weight to the neutrality.
Monty takes the coffee and shifts to move toward another seat as he takes a drink. He seems hesitant to actually sit there once he's ready to but he does anyway. "An offer?" he returns with an uncertainty that doesn't seem very natural to him. He meets Robert's gaze but only briefly, then nods his head for him to go on.
"An offer. I intend to offer all wolves the chance to return to the Spirit Rock Clan, leaving the past behind us. That extends to you." He meets the other man's gaze steadily, the slight tilt of his head questioning. "I offer my protection and leadership in exchange for your loyalty. A chance to leave the past where it belongs." Robert's voice is even, steady, the neutrality simply his default expression.
"Your protection," Monty says, "and leadership. For my loyalty." Just making sure that's all clear. He takes another drink of his coffee. "And if I don't accept? Am I forced out of the city and declared a rogue to be hunted down again if I ever return?" There's nothing bitter in his question, just looking at his options.
Robert tilts his head, considering the other man thoughtfully. There is a hint of humor in his voice as he speaks softly, a slight curve to his lips. "You know. I had not considered that you would refuse. However. I have no intention of causing harm to those that do not accept my protection, nor closing the door on them unless they do the pack harm. You would be free to live separately in the city, for as long as you choose and did not bring harm to my people."
That admission makes Monty's increasingly restless energy relax considerably. "That's good to hear. Very good to hear." One of his easy smiles flashes across his expression and he nods his head. "Be a fool not to accept your protection, though, wouldn't I? If you intend on doing right by the pack, you have my loyalty, Robert."
Robert listens, nodding slowly, his gaze resting on the other man's face. His response brings a flicker of the wry smile, curving Robert's lips beneath the beard, creasing his eyes at the corners and he offers his hand to him across the table. "Welcome to my pack, Monty. You are as any other wolf, joining us as family, with no history."
Monty reaches across to take the hand with his own, a grip that's firm but unchallenging. "Thank you, sir." His own smile lingers for a time. "Lets hope that's actually the way it goes." Because he'd be lying if he didn't suggest he had his doubts about that working without a hitch.
"There will be challenges ahead, Monty. I am not afraid of them." His hand is warm, his grip firm but without the competition that some men feel the need to play. "We will meet them as they arise. May I tell you my plans?" The question is spoken slightly awkwardly, Robert's rare willingness to speak of thoughts showing in the rustiness of his delivery.
"Nor am I," Monty offers as he settles back into his seat and takes another drink. "Of course. Please do." His own voice has a slight edge of reassurance to combat the awkwardness. Old habits die hard. "I'd be honored." He takes one more drink then sets his mug aside on the table.
Monty's reassurance brings that quick, wry smile back, and Robert reaches for his coffee, taking a swig before he speaks. "I have set up a trust fund for the pack, which will provide for their needs. I have arranged a lawyer to any of us who require her services." These things are softly spoken, an even tone and he lifts his gaze to Monty's. His face does actually show emotion for a moment, a flicker of belief and hope as he speaks, slowly and softly. "I plan to approach the other leaders, to form a council of preternatural beings to share concerns and aid each other in a place that is neutral. Safe for all."
Monty listens quietly and curiously as he listens to what Robert has to say. His gaze remains on the man but not entirely on his face and certainly not trying to hold the other's gaze for any extended period of time. "I think it's a good idea. And if you need my assistance in any way, I'll gladly offer it for such a cause." Without reluctance and everything, presumably.
Robert leans back in his chair, lifting an eyebrow, slightly mocking himself from the dry smile. "I may occasionally be naive but I believe that when people of good faith sit around and talk like adults, much can be achieved." His voice is dry, and he considers the other man thoughtfully. "And I will take your assistance where I can. A pack is only as strong as the wolves, and the wolves are only as strong as their pack."
"I agree. Definitely. It's getting both people of good faith and people of good faith talking like adults that makes that a bit trickier from time to time." Monty grins again. "I know that all too well," he says, more nostalgic than anything else. He studies the other man more deliberately for a few moments like he might say something else but it never quite forms. "Good luck, in any case. I think you'll do well."
Robert's wry grin appears, quickly forming on the rarely moved face, vanishing for a moment. "My thanks." The studious gaze is returned, a quick cock of his head before he speaks softly. "You are welcomed in my pack and my home, Monty. Should have need of anything. Is there anything else I should answer or ask with you?" The odd formality sits more comfortably with him
"Thank you, sir, but I think things are alright at the moment." Monty shifts to rise back to his feet, grabbing his mug to take it to the sink before turning back. "You know how to get in touch with me if necessary. Should it be necessary." Of course he wouldn't hope there'd be much need for himself, really, but he's willing whatever the case. "I can see myself out," he offers, head tilting respectfully just enough to bare his throat.
"Robert. Please call me Robert." Robert rises to his feet, stepping forward to lightly accept the gesture, the minimum of touch needed to accept. "I will see you on the Full Moon, if not before." His face is neutral once more, but the man's energy is warm, calm, used to reassure and welcome. "Welcome, Monty."