It was time to bite the bullet.

As she approached the gates of the club, she wondered if it was too late to back out and take Lloyd’s advice. Of course that was out of the question; there was no point in trying to hide from this anymore. The subject of Jeanette’s lineage may not be public knowledge, but she had no doubt the Shadow Lords already knew. For starters, Jason was claimed by them and he definitely knew, and even if he didn’t say anything it wasn’t like they tried very hard to keep it a secret.

No matter the circumstances, she had to do the right thing and lay claim to Jeanette. And since she knew her father was a Shadow Lord that meant she had to deal with the local Elder. Up until recently the only one who could claim that title was over at Golden Wings, and had a reputation that intimidated the Fury into staying as far away from that sept as she could. But fortunately a new arrival at High Ears presented her with an alternative choice, one that didn’t involve a Philidox with a trained assassin at her beck and call.

She entered without drawing attention, reminding herself of why she was here. After the kin’s kidnapping she swore to herself she would not let anything happen to her ever again. And the fact that she hadn’t properly laid claim to her would undermine her ability to do so. It didn’t matter to her that the two were no longer shared the relationship they once had, she still loved the brunette. And she would do anything to keep her safe.

She took one last deep breath in and entered, hoping that the Shadow Lord was already there. She had sent a message that she wanted to talk about claiming kin, but she had no idea if the other woman got it or not. She scanned the room and hoped things would turn out alright.

If it wasn't one fucking thing it was another.

Afternoon was hardly the philodox's favorite time of day, even on a good day because everyone knew that her days generally started at night. Strike one random septmate she hadn't met before. Why in the hell did anyone want to talk her about claiming kin anyway? It weren't as though her bandmates would be real useful to someone who wasn't herself, so far as she could think on it. They were useful people and good friends when they weren't up her ass about doing favors for them, but you had to know how to best direct their talents to get optimum results from the bastards.

She'd ponied up to the bar, first playing a few shot-for-shot games with the wiry ragabash who always took over the duties there whenever he turned up, the one in the Fox pack. Then Racquel had turned up and without too much fanfare the two judges had set into a shockingly amicable game of shotglass chess. The fire-breathing teenager had brought the set from home, a well meaning gift from someone who hadn't realized that while like many of her tribemates Salome enjoyed chess, especially when alcohol was involved... she didn't really know anyone else in town who could actually play chess.

So she'd left it at the sept and been pleasantly surprised to find the ragey Child of Gaia just schooling Coffee at it only a few days later, while she'd been lousing around waiting on Dennis. Since then an oddly cohesive meeting of minds had taken place, each angry half-moon taking quiet solace in their game together, complete with all the vile and crass one-liners or assorted stories either came up with. “So, I mean you'd have to figure that he'd already seen me fucking blow fire OUT OF MY MOUTH on stage right? How fucking retarded can a Leech fucking get? I'm glad he's dead, though I can't even really stick a fucking notch on my belt for it because let's be honest, that asshole was obviously a slow-learner...” Sal gave her smoke a tap into the ashtray when the garou across from her inclined her head to the door to the incoming Fury.

Tipping her gaze to her auspice-mate taking she took the time to claim a knight full of whiskey. The Shadow Lord downed the drink with smooth ease and had a nice long drag of her smoke, enjoying the way it soothed her fiery temper... Smooth. Then it was back to observing the redhead, whom should logically be the chick who'd left her the message, judging from the antsy look on her face.

One eyebrow raised, Sal pursed her lips and jutted her chin out in what might have almost been a greeting, though was more likely an indication. “...'Sup?”

Well, at least she was already here. And seemed relaxed enough to be playing a game of shotglass chess. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all? She approached her, taking in one last deep breath before getting on with it. ”Salome Spitting-Image, I’d like to lay claim to a kinfolk of your tribe.” Adjusting her stance a bit to show respect to Sal’s position as well as her person, she decided to elaborate.

”My girlfriend, Jeanette, is the daughter of a Shadow Lord, although we don’t know who he is specifically or if he’s still alive. I first had an idea of her lineage almost a year ago, but was only able to confirm it a few months ago. In that time she’s grown close to all of my pack and works well with them, and I would like to formally issue a challenge to claim her for my Tribe.”

She finished and waited for a response, doing everything she could to keep her expression neutral and to hide her own nervousness. If she screwed this up things would go very wrong for the brunette kin, so she had to do this perfectly the first time. There’d be no do-overs if she made a mistake today.

Salome eyed the new Fury levelly. Was she seriously trying to fuck on her right now? The seething half-moon had borne her share of challenges in her relatively short time in service of Gaia, and yes she had given more than one opponent the bum's rush out of literal fucking nowhere at least a few times. The difference was that the Shadow Lord knew the rules, and how to look like she was playing by them. So whoever the nameless cunt in front of her was, appropriately submitted stance or not, was about to get ridden, played like a harp from hell.

The philodox's appraisal of the situation took about thirty seconds, which was enough for the rakish singer to take a few more drags off of her smoke, and pour herself a stiff shot. She caught Racquel's gaze across the bar, both eyebrows arching up just enough to be both an inquiry and a boast.

You watch what I do here. The look said. You're gonna like it.

Brown eyes set on 'glower' Salome turned back to the newly arrived garou. “That's the greasiest fucking pile of bullshit I ever heard, lady. I hope you fucking check yourself before you think for one hot second that this kinfolk, whoever she is, is your girlfriend. She's as good as stolen goods and I think you're a goddamn coward for waiting around until a lower ranked 'Lord turned up to make your ridiculous play for a freebie fucktoy. A few months my ASS, what the hell kept you so long?”

Her voice gravelly and replete with irritation, Spitting-Image went on, spitting vitriol instead. Her finger came up and away it went, wagging in admonishment as the cliath picked up speed and rage. “First off, I cannot and will not accept your challenge at this time. You will render under me what belongs to MY tribe that I may better assess the worth of this mystery individual. I have not met her, I don't know you, and I don't give a rat's ass how either of you feels about the other. Until I know what kind of kin we're talking about, there's no way for me to set either an appropriate challenge for her ultimate allegiance, or to set an acceptable dowry for her transfer if I find out that she's dumb as fuck with no useful talents outside of the bedroom. So don't even try and fucking talk to me about wanting a cuddle or a fist-job until you've at least done right by the worth of this found kin.” If she were being completely forthright (and that's not the same thing as being honest) she fully intended to get back-pay for the slight to her tribe and totem.

Bristling with rage, the colorfully dressed Shadow Lord leaned back in her seat and waited for the response to her aggressive, yet ultimately technically correct call-out. With the philodox elder watching them both it was unlikely that the situation would come to blows, though it would be so much easier and way more entertaining if the other girl flipped her shit. You wanted to fuck on Thunder? No one played down and dirty like Salome. She would consider it a pleasure to let the Fury dig herself deep enough to bury her honor for the foreseeable future.

Well despite her best efforts she had clearly fucked up already. From not making the proper introduction to generally following the wrong procedure, she had already made things worse for herself and for Jeanette. She stood still as the Lord chewed her out, flinching from the rage but doing her best to present a strong face. The closest she got to losing her composure was the comparison of Jeanette to stolen goods, but she kept her temper and steeled herself for more attacks on that front. She had just showed weakness in front of the one tribe most capable of taking advantage of it.

She waited for Sal to finish, doing her best to keep still with her hands behind her back until she was certain the philidox was ready for her response. ”My apologies for the delay, but events at the time prevented me from contacting Golden Wings to settle the matter.” It wasn’t a full lie; the last few months had been eventful enough to keep her busy, although she doubted the fiery cliath would care.

”I can give you her details now since she’s currently working at the moment, and bring you to her so you can assess her worth.” She managed to keep that neutral look on her face, despite the insult to her honour. She was in the wrong here, and the Shadow Lord held all the power in this situation. Best to just soldier along and pay whatever price was set for Jeanette.

Backpedaling was always so fucking fulfilling to behold. Excuses, excuses, and OH LOOK AT THAT: MORE EXCUSES! Wonders never ceased.

“Well, if every damn thing in your fucking life took precedence over your duty to your supposed and might I add former kin girlfriend then I'll keep that in mind, pending my own judgment of you. Thanks for the heads up.” Yes. Apparently the philodox hadn't yet begun to get into territory which she considered judgmental.

“Though as I'm fairly fucking certain you not being able to take a half an hour trip to do the honorable thing is an utter load of shit. Garou take challenges at any time of day or night, so as far as I'm concerned if you had enough time to jerk off or take real good long shower at any point since discovering the bitch's lineage, you done fucked up. Hard. So take your apologies and stick them in your fucking pocket.” She sneered, raising another shot of whiskey to her lips and sucking it back. That warm burn took the edge off a little.

The Shadow Lord raised an eyebrow at the inference that the redhead intended to stay somehow involved in the relocation process, a further trespass that would definitely not be tolerated. “FUCK NO! That's NOT alright! What in hell is wrong with you? What makes you think that I want you speaking to, picking up, or otherwise screwing with my tribe's kin, more than you already have? No. You can call her right now and give her my number, in front of me with Racquel to witness it and then if you want any hope of salvaging your goddamn honor, you'll make an oath to desist from contacting or otherwise meddling with her until this matter is resolved. Comprendez, you lame-tongued, kin-filching, socially incompetent, NAMELESS, cherry-pickin'-litany-law 'abiding', DITCH WEASEL!?”

The cliath jutted her chin forward aggressively, her rage-ridden eyes practically steaming with abject derision. “Give me the fucking information on her, name, phone number, where and who she works for, e-mail address, WHATEVER... Then gather it all up in the front of your unsubstantial brain, stick a pencil in your eye AND SWIRL IT AROUND UNTIL YOU FORGET IT! Cuz let me tell you: You ain't gonna be using it until the slight to MY TRIBE has been SATISFIED.” Salome looked livid, though deep down all the screaming and yelling was the sort of thing that the judge & jury really got off on. She wasn't just in tune with her rage, she rode those waves like she was breaking a wild stallion. Truly master of Luna's domain.

This situation just kept on getting worse and worse. Not only did she fuck up with the lack of introduction, but now she was being told to cut off all contact with the kinfolk in a not so subtle way. She was starting to get the feeling she would have been better off going to Golden Wings and throwing her at their feet. It would have at least been less rage-inducing.

”I’ll need your number first.” She said softly, trying very hard not to lose her cool over the insults to herself and to Jeanette. Of course that was too much to ask, so she pulled out her own phone and called Jeanette, getting to her voice mail straight away. ”Jean, this is Tal. When you’re finished with your work you should get a call from Salome regarding your family tree.” She had run by the bare basics with the kin the day before, but now it was time to break the bad news to her. ”I'm not going to be able to see you until it's all done though. So…I’ll talk to you when this is all over. Bye.”

She hung up the phone and put it down on the counter, before reaching for a pen and paper and filling out every last detail she could think of before handing it to the foul-mouthed and tempered woman in front of her. ”I swear by the Lady, Pegasus and Gaia that I will neither contact nor interfere with Jeanette until your assessment of her is complete.” A small hint of bitterness was evidence in her tone, but fuck the Shadow Lord if she took any issue with that.

”Is there anything else you require in this matter?”

The philodox cackled. For serious? Nothing. What a limp dicked pussy. “Sorry, my mommy taught me a long time ago that it's bad news to give your phone number to strangers. But there's fucking PLENTY I still need from you, so just sit tight and hold on to yer titties. Get a piece of paper and right down your vitals, then fold it in half and put it on my coaster.” She pointed at the bar and the coaster with entirely the wrong finger.

“Since you seem so very interested in everything that ain't yours, lemme fill you in on how this works. She ain't coming to me, I'm going to her. You don't get to have my address, or anything else you haven't already been given. And since you're so fucking keen on doin' without the very basic social benefit of having a GODDAMN NAME, so far as I'm concerned, YOU DON'T HAVE ONE. I don't wanna know it, I don't fucking care. I'll read your shitty piece of paper later.”

The Lady was the totem of some pack she'd yet to encounter, not that it mattered at present.... Pegasus, another dyke Fury? SHOCK ME SHOCK ME SHOCK ME! The set up was so cliched as to be a social redundancy. In every sept they probably had a feisty lesbian who spent more time criticizing the misogyny of the other tribes in complete comatose denial of their own tribe's raging misandry (though the chances of this wet noodle being that bitch were low to say the least...there was probably a really hairy broad with a plaid shirt and big boots reserved for that behavior hidden somewhere...). Sal always preferred to think of herself as a situational misanthrope. Equality at it's finest.

“H'oh yeah, and one more thing. Sod off. The palpable reek of your social incompetence is harshing my buzz and interrupting something way more entertaining. So fuck off.” Another grating cackle came, followed by a sneer to remember, then Salome turned back to her game of chess with Racquel, her last regard for the Fury kin-thief a dismissive flap of her heavily inked hand.

She was fucked and she knew it, and the fact that she couldn’t do anything about it just twisted the knife even deeper. She obeyed the command without comment, writing down everything about herself on the piece of paper and folded it in half, before placing it done on the coaster. Despite her most primal self begging for some small act of defiance, the Fury could not allow herself to turn a bad situation into a horrible one.

Once more she was reminded about her lack of introduction; mocked, spoken down to like some cub and insulted without mercy. This could not be over soon enough, and once Jeanette was safely hers and hers alone she hoped to never have to communicate with the Shadow Lord again.

And just like that, she was dismissed like some servant. She certainly didn’t care for the cliath’s company any more than she cared for hers. ”Goodbye then Salome, Raquel-yuf.” And with that she turned and left the club behind without so much as a second glance back. She had t go find some company (probably Lloyd’s) and go cry on their shoulder.

(Exit Tal)