Ciel had a problem, it wasn't a huge one, but the young ahroun found that in some circumstances he had an amazing case of tunnel vision. Case in point, he had started taking the trash out, and one moment later he found himself across town...having chased down some ghost.

The ghost in question was a twisted looking thing, and had caught the Strider's attention immediately, it was sickly, hobbled...it's features and a sinister cast, and when it saw Means-by-no-Means, it quickly grew spooked and ran. There was no doubt there was something unsavory afoot, and Ciel was obligated to give chase, the metis almost paused long enough to tell his kin cohort where he was going, but, there wasn't time he was off like a shot, apron strings behind him as he vaulted over trashcans and fences.

Really it wasn't an easy hunt, the restless dead were clever folk, like the humans they used to be, and thus, they were the most dangerous game. The ghost knew he was the Garou's quarry, and soon both spirit and ahroun were in the umbra, one after the other, Ciel knit his brows in determination, gritting his teeth as he stopped just a moment to catch his breath before taking to running again. He was almost thanking Gaia about how the jackal blooded were made for long sprinting.

Because if they weren't, this would have really really sucked, as opposed to just sucking a standard levels.

Within the spirit realms, Ciel took to his birth-form as he moved, taking advantage of his long legs as his non-dedicated work clothes tore off of him with little resistance, the crinos form of the Silent Strider was lean and hungry to tear his teeth into the ghost. He snapped his teeth and finally chasing for so long, he leapt forth and snagged it in his long maw before giving it a grisly shake, raking his claws over it before it dissipated into the either, back to the dark umbra where it belonged...

Ciel glowed, pleased at his minor victory before shrinking back down to his homid form, the ghost was gone, but the remaining spirits were stirred by the sudden violence, and he was starting to gain their attention in that negative sort of way. Making a face, he tried to look friendly, unassuming, harmless...but it was a hard sell after you shook one of their 'own' like a rag doll in your teeth. He gulped, for a moment it felt like the velvet shadow shook once, twice and then he found himself falling.

The last thing he mouthed before hitting the ground was 'Oh shi-' before face-planting, buck naked in the middle of some junk yard, soundlessly groaning as he tried to pull himself back up from the shock and pain of it all, well...maybe not pain, it was really more a situation of insult rather than injury, or embarrassment if you could call it that. Ciel pulled his face from the dust long enough to get a good look, bright eyes squinting as he got a look around, but he wasn't exactly feeling the whole getting up thing just just...

It had been a long day, out in the heat, patching up holes in the fencing, pounding the pavement around the borders, moving around big hunks of metal out by the quansit. Beatrix heard a cry, followed by a solid whunk not far off from where she was current sorting scraps. At the clatter she was on her feet, a twisted chunk of metal still clenched in her hand and sprinting to guard her territory.

Coming around the corner of a tower of crushed cars, she saw a man sprawled in the dirt and gravel covered ground, face-planted as though he'd fallen out of thin air. She skidding to a halt, the heels of her boots grinding ruts into the ground.

It was noticeable then, the sudden plethora of beady little eyes that peered out of the darkness on the Strider's vulnerable, fleshy body. Menacing chitters, one so deep and hoary that it could rightfully be called a growl, emanated from the surrounding scrap heaps. Led by their thickly ruffed King, the rats made their presence known, sharp claws digging against dirt and screeching on old car parts, trashed refrigerators and old road signs. The Gnawer saw them fussing around, but paid them no heed.

Brandishing the car bumper she'd been yanking out of the heap when the other garou had unceremoniously been thrust into existence, Bee huffed and prodded the prone man. Her voice boomed, heavy with rage at even this... well it wasn't a slight disturbance but it was enough. “Hold up now! You better have THE BEST explanation man.” It wasn't every day a nudist broke in, and despite her wolfish disregard for nudity the fostern still noted it as odd. Not bothersome but strange compared to other theft attempts. That it seemed off made her pause.

It was almost certain that Bee had no control over the whims of the yard's rat population. Most had developed of their own accord a healthy respect of the ahroun and kin various kin. They were proven opponents whom the vermin knew they were better off working with than attacking. This newcomer had no such history of benefit with the pack, though they didn't leap yet. Had they been deeper in the yard, where things were wilder and nastier, that ship might have already sailed. The She-Wolf was surprised, and a little mad but not yet engaging the intruder. If Tina moved, that was their universal sign but the shaggy wharf rat made no such move yet.

Straightening, the tall woman jutted her jaw out and bared her teeth. "Come on now... slowly." Her speech was heavily inflected with body language, stern and imposing. That-Bitch usually only attacked those she couldn't cow and even then she prided herself on being the sort of warrior who had a reason to bite in the first place. It was the kind of standards you had to maintain if you lived in the city. But she had been serious about the explanation and would continue to loom and demand things until she was answered. The walls securing the yard were tall for a reason.

The junkyard environment was a system of interconnected biological and spiritual systems... and here in the scrapheap jungle outsiders were seldom safe.

This wasn't the worst situation that had befallen him. Close, but not the worst, still, Ciel looked up again and couldn't help but think of the Princess Bride as he saw all the Rodents of Unusual Size that had surrounded him, screeching in a near goddless cacophony- then the queen of them all, the Willard if you will, a big gal that sounded a bit like the surroundings, metal getting crushed under a grinder over the dull roar of rat-noise. He could appreciate that, hell, he took notice, and if he had been the sort that scared easy, he'd be shitting himself right about now. But he was stubborn like that, it was one of his better qualities...

Yet he did what was asked of him, he stood, maybe his bashfulness was because of his unintended intrusion, but mostly it was because he was naked as the day he clawed his way into being. But he tried to explain himself like he was told to, his hands going in rapid motion, <Sorry, sorry, sorry.> If anything he was very apologetic, it played on his face a plain as the moon held in the sky. He wasn't so prideful to apologize, especially when he was in the wrong.

Of course, all the pretty signing in the world wasn't going to get much across, he stopped, and sighed. Reading her body language wasn't hard, she wasn't one to take any nonsense, He pointed to his throat, then shook his head. He couldn't talk, maybe she would get that, maybe she wouldn't. Then again, you couldn't not notice a man, about as anatomically correct as a child's doll, naked and prone trying his hardest to show he meant no harm.

Ciel rolled his head, exposing his throat, when more questions would come he would answer them the best charades and lip reading could manage, but he wasn't sure if that would do much of anything. The Strider's lips worked a bit sucking his teeth awkwardly as he looked at his feet as the rats pooled around them. Rats didn't like Owls. He thought idly to himself, but he didn't really worry about that, he rather liked them...good company on the road, of course...that didn't change the fact that the fuzzy army wasn't exactly good company right now.

'Fighting spirit. Fell here.'

He mouthed it with an exaggerated enunciation, the Rage coming off this woman was almost tangible, but that didn't make her a friend, nor did it make for sudden understanding,

It was a lucky thing that the reactive ahroun was feral born, the prone man's body language did more to properly communicate his submission than a voice could have and it got the point across to Bee quickly. The desperation in his face was easy enough to read, though it took the broad shouldered Gnawer a moment or two to grasp that he couldn't verbalize in response. His expression read almost like a whine, a plea. In any case the intruder looked penitent and while the landlady didn't take her eyes off of him yet she quit jabbing him with her improvised weapon. She threw that to the side, sending a few creeping rodents to skitter hurriedly out of the way.

As he got to his feet she noticed something almost immediately. Something was wrong. WRONG. Well, maybe not so much wrong as, MISSING, which was somehow worse. If there had been anything identifiable below the man's belt she wouldn't have been so put off, but what was there was nothing she could recognize.

Beatrix's experiences with humanity were as brief as she could make them. While other garou were on knowing terms with (and in some cases politically correct ones) with notions like ladyboys, transgendered individuals, the sacred two-spirited and hermaphrodites, the blue-eyed lupus had none of this practical knowledge to lean back on. In her experience pups with deformities like this one tended to be stillborn or died naturally after a few days as a result of their physical complications. She'd never given birth to anything so... damaged, though she'd seen a twisted limb or a cleft palette in the litters of other wolves once or twice. This was different.

Her reaction was unkind to say the least. Blinking a few times, her brow knitted itself in a mixture of confusion and revulsion. This wasn't right. Her chin jutted back, surveying the anatomically incorrect body as though it's owner were some alien insect, a curious and at the same time repellent bug. If she had been in her birth-form the wolf's ears would have been plastered backward against her head in a classic canine expression of WTF!?, though her hackles would have still been up. The inherent wrongness of the man dug down into the primal part of brain (which accounted for a sizable chunk of the she-wolf's mind) and tweaked a nerve that made her back twitch, not unlike an involuntary shudder.

Then again, it weren't as though she didn't already possess a similar little oddity. Jesus would have to hide that rat tail in his pants long after his first change. Her own rat, Tina, dealt with this discovery the same way he did at being presented any other serviceably male opponent. He leaned back on his furry haunches and with great care started cleaning his own endowments, which was about as subtle as a marching band thumping up and down the road carrying a banner that read “LOOK AT THE SIZE OF THESE NUTS!!!”. It was night, but with the moon out it would have been hard to miss the deliberate nature of the action. The rats around him shut-up, though their beady red eyes stayed trained on the man.

In questionable situations, Bee did what she was best at. She used the straightforward, practical deductive reasoning of a warrior and shifted smoothly into Crinos. If the stranger was a human he would run and the solution would be quick and simple: The rats would eat him. If he was something else and adversarial, he would attack and she would kill him, a solution that had never posed too great a problem in her past dealings with single unknown opponents. If he was like her little rat tailed angel under the quansit (and that could certainly explain his situation below the equator), he would show her his war or wolf form and the 'discussion' from there would limp along until one of them found a way to break the language barrier. With a low growl she waited for his answer.

Ciel knew in an instant what had the woman so fixated, so horrifying, his eyes followed down himself, a thatch of hair where nothing else was, it was...alarming to say the least, and he couldn't blame her reaction. He knitted his brows sympathetically, the way he responded to all the Garou he saw that shot him dirty or confused looks at moots- he wasn't sorry that he looked that way, he was sorry they felt that way. He flashed a smile at Bee, hands folding over his crotch in hopes to make things a bit more bearable for her. He didn't mind being nude, but some people did have issues with him being nude- and he could respect that.

His lips moved as he signed to the woman, <Accident. Birth.> There weren't much in the way of transitive words in his language of gestures, but he mouthed out 'at' for the sake of proper grammar. But it wasn't an outright lie, his birth was...an accident, that which did cause the deformity that so offended.

The rat's behavior was given a chuckle, well met rodent, the full-moon had found it clever and he started to wonder if it was something a bit more then flesh and blood that was ever so clever. Still among the rabble of rodents it seemed to be the ring leader outside of the big blue eyed girl.

Who proved rather quickly that she was no girl...or woman of any faculty, but rather, a Garou...which explained the rage, and well...the Crinos form. Maybe...especially the Crinos form, he nodded in appreciation, she was a powerful specimen, blackish brown...white socks, absolutely fucking massive. But Ciel didn't balk and he certainly didn't run, instead his smile grew all the wider as he took on his birth form by near invite...relishing in lounging it what was only natural for him.

Soon Means-by-no-Means shifted up into the lanky but muscular form of what looked very nearly like a werejackal rather then a werewolf, his coat black backed and white sided as he wagged his tail at the female, ears perked and tongue lulling, a friendly gesture. He was a friend, even though he was an intruder...thankfully, it was easily to communicate in his more bestial forms...at least, for him it was.

It was possible that he had mouthed out the word “Birth” but what came before it eluded her. Bee was unaccustomed to looking at people's mouth's when they talked, never mind when they couldn't talk at all... she was the sort of aggressive wolf who tended to stare people directly in the face until she was given a good reason not to. Her attention flipped from eyes to mouth, eyes to mouth, muddling his overall message, though managing to keep his original intent, the one that said “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” so clearly.

His change from homid to Crinos flattened her hackles a little. Everyone likes to be proven right and here one of three possible scenarios had just proven itself. Tina hunched his way over to the Gnawer's side and scaled his way up her brown-black pelt, chittering in his lady-wolf's ear. There was almost a sigh from his followers, the rodents in the wreckage, as they mourned the apparent loss of a free meal and went about their ratty business. If the Queen Bee was going to attack, she would have surely done it by now.

She studied the man, her bleached out muzzle dipping forward to sniff him. Smoke, soap, relatively healthy, all good signs for a garou. His sexlessness had a scent too, though her mind was coming around to the idea that this was the half-breed's deformity it still made an ear twitch when the animal parts of her brain insisted that she noted it.

The Gnawer regarded the lanky mule with her keen feral eyes, taking in the breeding but giving it about as much heed as she ever did. Plenty of garou weren't predisposed to correcting one of rat's brood for disregarding their ancestry. They were more than willing to presume that the lowly had no understanding of the family lines of their betters. That assessment was alright by the burly ahroun. She didn't really understand because she'd never paid much attention and it was unlikely that she would set aside any precious time to learn about any of it.

Still, the tall jackal ears were a good indication of the other garou's tribe, it was possible she might be able to glean more information from him. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with his ears, which was a blessing. She held her shoulders proud and confident, her paws comfortably at her side. ~ Queen Bee. Fostern. Gnawer, ahroun. This is my territory. Do you know glyphs? ~ All concise questions, very straightforward, though that was her way. She stamped one back paw on the dirt below their feet, dragging one set helpfully through the earth and leaving a set of deep grooves in the ground. It wasn't a pad of paper but it would do until they had something more suitable.

Sorry Ben, better luck next time.

Ciel watched at the rats looked to their leader, then seemed disappointed, no it seemed Silent Strider wasn't on the menu today, thank Gaia, it seemed that his war-form actually eased the mind of the other Garou in front of him, which was confusing, but he'd take it as the blessing it was, he watched her, watching him, and didn't attempt to say anything...well, relatively he stood still, even putting his arms out so she could get a good look at him, resisting the urge to laughably strike a pose, he wasn't sure his peculiar sense of humor would be appreciated just yet.

But as Bee stretched forward to take a sniff, he returned the gesture, huffing in her scent out of instinct, she smelled sort of ratty, and like the salvage yard itself, but it didn't make the female offensive in odor to him. It was just how she smelled, and gave him an idea of where she came from, where she went, and how she lived. Good to know.

He was never one to flaunt his breeding, meager as it was, it was just part of who he was, not who he was, like his dark hair, or his blue eyes, maybe even the fact he was left handed, it meant there was more on his shoulders then most Garou, but he still looked like a child of Owl it played plainly on his features where he came from. He wasn't the slightest bit concerned that the female in front of him didn't give a rip, he couldn't blame her. He tilted his head slightly inquisitive if things checked out for her, they must have, since his head was still on his shoulders, and she did introduce herself.

Queen Bee, he nodded, wondering if she really was a queen. Given the way Bone Gnawers adored playing on Silver Fang tradition and perverting it in their own way...well, long live the queen, he bowed his head to her, a Fostern of his own rank, he gave credit where credit was due, tail falling somewhat as he pinned his ears back in respect, again he nodded, bringing his head and hand up and making them move in affirmative. <Yes.> Glyphs were easy enough.

Soon the full-moon found himself dropping down to his haunches, taking a long black claw and etching into the earth. He had done it before, and had little issue with doing it again. Putting down the glyphs for 'Metis' 'Cliath' 'Ahroun' and 'Silent Strider' as well as the English for 'Ciel' and yet again, another apology for his trespass.

There was exceedingly little that spoke to Beatrix better than posture did. The ears and tail were noted as she read his name aloud, one single, deliberately pronounced word. “Ciel.” Her voice was still low and husky, but there was less edge on it than before. “That's good enough for now. You come with me and I'll bring you to a pad of paper.”

If she appreciated the bow it didn't show yet, it was probably enough that he hadn't raised an eyebrow to her deed name. Her title was what it was, and paid tribute to what she was best known for. You screwed with a Queen Bee and the whole hive was coming for your ass. More than one Swarm member had observed that the blue-eyed bitch's sermons tended to have that effect.

He was right to suspect that Tina, beyond his undeniably mismatched and effeminate name, wasn't a run of the mill rat. For one thing he was beyond large for his breed, and his breed in no way belonged in Los Angeles to begin with. African Wharf rats could certainly find a place within the ecology of the city, though no one (with notable Gnawer exception) was apt to be happy if they did. There was also the matter of his mannerisms, and the fairly ballsy way he comported himself. He was cocksure, even for a rat king, and Owl or no (and he had noticed, whiskers twitched in recognition) he wasn't frightened a lick of the jackal-eared intruder. No sir. He didn't leave his mistresses shoulder either. Couldn't trust jackals to know a lady when they saw one.

She was, despite her undoubtedly aggressive nature, not much of a talker. Day to day the person the big ahroun talked to the most was a toss up, one that invariably fell to Punk or Sid. The deciding factor was whether she was prowling around outside or inside. Being that this was the way she chose to interact with others whenever possible, through a kinfolk filter, what she did next was fairly predictable.

Shifting back down into her homid form, Bee reached into the pocket of the thick work-jeans she wore, yanking out a battered old two way radio that Punk had re-purposed and held it up to her mouth, speaking gruffly into the receiver. “Punk, I'm on my way to the Q. You or Sid need to come down here with a pair of sweats an' one of them goodwill tshirts. We have a visitor.”

She wasn't unaccustomed to showing some sort of hospitality to Striders. Gaia needed messengers, after all. There was really no telling when he'd pass out for a day or two, or if he'd eaten in recent memory. In her experience Owl's children were usually only slightly less hungry than her own Tribe. The quansit had a fridge and plenty of canned ravioli, among other things. She started walking, jerking her arm for Ciel to follow. He had looked as though he'd be happy to sit and draw in the dirt, but time was money and her way was faster.

It wasn't his place to question. Though he rarely took things at face value, he didn't worry about the rat, the deed name of his new found companion, nor that he was asked to follow. If anything, Ciel knew if he came with, he'd be able to write legibly, which would help his case considerably given the circumstances, he kept a smile on his face, affably harmless at first sight- hardly the case, but maybe that was why he could enjoy the duality of all of this.

Led along by a Queen of the salvage yard with a vigilant rodent familiar...it was both simple and complex, but he was a fool to think it was 'safe'. The whole ordeal made him rest his hands on his ribcage, his torso shaking with silent laughter, between the three of them they were such a chatty trio. In fact the only talking done after being beckoned was that the higher ranking ahroun had radioed in to some mysterious stranger.

Pants?

Delightful.

He nodded graciously, and followed suit after Bee, going back to his homid form- only slightly missing the fur that kept him from the Los Angeles autumn chill. Never one to complain on top of things, he shivered, but kept his hands still, covering himself again. The hospitality was appreciated, and Ciel kept it in mind, no Vivirito left a debt unpaid when it came to kindness. He would see that the Gnawer was repaid one way or another, however he wasn't sure just how as of yet.

As Bee's back was to him, he dusted himself off, trying his best to look somewhat presentable to meet new folks, sure he was naked, ragged as his tribe could be, but one had to look somewhat good at least given the circumstances.

The Gnawer led her guest towards the center of the compound. There wasn't really any other word that suited the yard so well. It was religious in nature, the place oozed with a purposefulness that couldn't be denied... heaps weren't only for storage but for cover, or direction. Whatever the purpose, the purpose was there, and whatever the junkyard had begun it's life as, it was now a temple to rat. A nest to keep the young safe, a stronghold to keep invaders out, and a trap to keep the truly unlucky inside.

The silence didn't bother Bee one bit. She preferred it to idle chatter, if the conversation weren't something she could proselytize from the top of a soapbox of bellow to rally a crowd to her cause, the ahroun usually kept to keeping her words short, if not particularly sweet. While they walked, two beady eyes were trained on the new garou. Tina sat backwards on his queen's shoulder, his fat, ratty haunches jostling up and down in a shock-absorbing bob to keep him from getting thrown free. His whiskers twitched as he appraised the good-natured man

Ciel could have stayed in his birthform, though it didn't occur to the fostern tell the Strider as much. The Veil was always a concern but at night, especially at night, it was very easy to walk her territory however she pleased. Then again, she knew where to stand. The sounds of the city still surrounded them, though they had been damped by the walls of twisted metal and scrapped car parts. As the two garou neared their destination, a quansit loomed near. There were no lights on to denote it's position... just around another corner it might have been easy to discount as another stack of garbage.

Beatrix grunted, stopping up short of the building and reaching into her front pocket. What she eventually dug free was a ring of keys that would have made a janitor jealous, fingering through with her dirt and dust smeared digits before eventually locating by feel alone the one she was looking for. “Got a family member on his way. Shouldn't be long.” The tall wolf commented, blue eyes flicking up to address the metis a little more seriously. “You'll come across plenty of my kin being here. You don't touch them unless they or I ask you to, understand?” It wasn't really a question but there it was. She had made her promises to both men, and never abided anyone touching her pack unless she trusted them wholly... something that happened once in a blue moon anyway.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside, flipping a few lights on she beckoned Ciel inside, already rummaging on a workbench to one side for a pad of paper and a pen. Locating a ruffled yellow legal pad, Bee tossed this on one of the tables, along with a pen that had a decent chance of working. It was an old battered picnic table to the immediate right of the door, the Thunderdome beyond that was a conglomeration of chain link fencing and scrap metal, various weapons, improvised or otherwise, hung here and there glinting in the light. It was difficult to describe properly.

Monolithic was as good a place as any to start.

Ciel kept a weary eye on his surroundings, there was more to this all then he could see, but for now he knew that he had no option other then to trust his guide who as of yet, seemed to be a straight shooter, and he liked that- knowing just where he stood was different then always having to guess. So there was that.

He nodded about the hands-off policy, he hadn't thought about it, but it seemed it had to be said. Maybe the Bee had some bad company over before, and he was disgusted by that in an instant. The very thought of rude guests made the hair on the back of his neck bristle. But in case she had missed his affirmative gesture, he saluted a little as to say 'Yes Ma'am.'

Thankfully soon he had paper in his hand, and he looked upon the other ahroun questioningly, what did she need to know? He'd answer anything she asked, but even if he had been born with a voice, he doubted that he'd have ever had the gift of gab. He shrugged but smiled, one of his hands rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly...if not shyly as he tried to figure something to 'say'.

Instead, Ciel took a seat, making sure he was lower then the higher ranked Garou, he smiled and waited politely as he he appraised the interior decorating- it was like the apocalypse had already blown up around here, and to him...it seemed...fascinating.

Climbing in the stacks was always a risk, but it was one the kinsmen who lived in the junkyard took every day. Punk would never be as confident as his brother, who would jump from one stack to another without thinking. Sometimes he wondered if it really had anything to do with believe in oneself-there was a strong possibility that Sid just didn't give enough of a fuck to be worried about hitting the ground. Tonight wasn't the time for a game of tag or paintball through their treacherous territory. They lay side by side in the bed of a truck, a tarp underneath them, watching the smog overhead.

The silence was meditative, each of them lost in their own thoughts. It was a break from fucking around with the money or turning the work vehicle into a Frankensteins monster again. Normally Punk would have the place to himself but when he'd left the quonset, Sid had followed without a word. There was no breaking into the man's head and no arguing with him. When the radio hissed and popped to life, they both twitched out of their reverie. Sid turned to look at Punk, his mouth partially open with concern.

"S'cool," Punk drawled, pulling the radio out of his pants pocket to listen to the Queen's demands. Nodding to himself, the young man sat up, shoving the device back into the pocket. "Hn. Where'd we put that," he grunted, pulling himself out of the truck bed and easing himself back onto solid ground. Sid didn't follow, not that he could be blamed. Newcomers were always a touchy subject around the junkyard. If it wasn't one of the kin reacting badly, it was another.

He made his way by touch and by sound weaving through the stacks until he found a tupperware bin wedged among a few other choice bits of hoard. Pulling the top open, he stuck his arm inside and felt around, finally getting a grip on a few pieces of cloth and pulling them out. The clothing had seen far better days, but it was whole aside from rips around the extremities and a completely missing collar on the shirt. Slinging it over his shoulder, he walked the rest of the way, pausing at corners the closer he got to the central location Bee had indicated.

Finally he arrived at the beat up quonset, giving it a long, mistrustful look, then continued his approach. His target was pretty obvious-naked people stood out, no matter where they were. The clothing came off of his shoulder, dropping onto the table next to the nude man's arm. Licking his lips nervously, the kinsman hunched his shoulders and kept moving, slipping away towards the fridge to get a bottle of water. He skulked next to it, watching the newcomer intently.

The Strider was being as polite as the circumstances allowed and Bee could appreciate that at least. Her manner of showing said appreciation couldn't have been more unreadable if her guest had been homid-born, a simple gruff nod and little else at first as she went about rummaging through her work desks some more, thoughtfully considering what exactly she required of Ciel, versus what she would merely like to know.

Tribe, rank, auspice, breed, these she knew already and required no further proof regarding, not until she had a philodox on hand at any rate. A City Wolf by nature (she had never known the wild as others of her breed understood it. Her forest was made of metal.) she asked those questions that were most important to her. "You can start by telling me how you came to the middle of my yard. Then what brings you to the city... I haven't been here long... "It was a lie technically, though her association with the sept itself was very recent the queen of the junkyard had been around for years. "But I sure ain't heard nothin' about you. So you go ahead and put down a few things about yourself." She was very direct about it, knowing that whatever her auspice-mate chose to put down on the page would tell her plenty about him. It normally did.

Hospitality wasn't foreign to Beatrix. Owls and Rats might not have gotten on like a burning house all the time but the fostern recognized the important role that nomads played within the Nation, especially when communications were few and far between. Gaia knew when he'd last drank or eaten. The big ahroun picked through a drawer, eventually pulling out a single burner hotplate, plugging it into a handy socket. She was fiddling with the switch on the weaver-device when Punk arrived. The Gnawer offered her kinfolk a feral smirk, an expression that melted down into a frown as she jiggled a toggle... which promptly came loose and fell onto the table with a leaden clicking sound.

One eyebrow twitched and Bee pushed the hotplate away from herself... the very clear instructions Punk had given her regarding what to do if something needed technical fixing. Her plush mouth tightened into a scowl, followed by a huff that visibly shook her shoulders and chest. There were plenty of devices that would take a kick or a wailing on because for Bee, this would fix them, and she understood how they worked to some degree... but legitimately fixing anything was her kinfolk's specialty.

"Damn thing's loose again." She grumbled, walking over to join the other Gnawer by the fridge and hauling a six pack of beer out, popping a can out for herself and setting the remaining five in front of the other garou. "This is Ciel, Punk. He's a Strider. If you could get that hunk of crap warm again," She motioned to the hotplate, shoulder brushing against Punk's as she reached up on top of the fridge to nab a can of the Rabble's latest tribute. "I could heat up some of this canned ravioli." She explained, knowing that it was probably nothing a little super glue and attention to detail couldn't fix but knowing all too well that she just didn't have that sort of patience.

Tina sat in the corner of the quonset, nails scrabbling at the dirty floor in a very specific place. He didn't chitter yet though something about his posture spoke of impatience. Cracking the tab on her drink the fostern took a sip, glowering at the nosy spirit. She knew exactly what he was getting at, and yes, it was past the pup's feeding time but she wasn't about to open the hatch just yet. Not until she felt that she everything else was in order.

A snap of the fingers and a tap on the side of his nose, and Ciel was to work answering Bee's questions. His actions spoke loudly- you got it boss. He didn't need to be the brightest of Gaia's chosen to know who ran the place, and soon the naked Strider was writing quickly, taking mind to keep his handwriting clean and readable.

I was hunting a ghost in the umbra, but when I killed it...I fell through the gauntlet, and landed here, which was why you found me on my face. He handed over that page first, bright blue eyes looking expectantly for more questions about that from the big ahroun, if he knew anything about anything, his auspice rarely took things at face value when they got an answer, and more questions would follow- that was, if the big full-moon didn't just decide to curbstomp his face. My mama, Carolina...the woman who raised me, lives in LA...I came here to take care of her now that she's getting older, I am hoping to join the local caern...but I lived here as a cub. My biological mother lives up in Washington. When he wrote that part he made a face, somewhat unimpressed about even having to bring the Garou up.

But he paused for a moment, and tore that page off and handed it over. Before taking a moment to wiggle into a pair of sweatpants with a quiet chuckle, anyone dumb enough to watch for too long well...he was a good-natured young mule, and wrinkled his nose and winked- especially at that meddling rat before going back to his paper. I'm one of the countless Vivirito's that are around here...

Blushing a little he nodded to the kin who had been kind enough to bring him some clothing, as well as help Bee with making him something to eat.<Thank you.> He signed and mouthed it out, but that didn't feel like it was good enough, so he tore off yet another piece of paper. Thank you so much for your kindness. Almost bashfully he tilted his head up and smiled, one of his freehands attempting to shield his face from the signs of his awkwardness. <If there were any way to repay you- please, let me know.>

He steeled himself with that- there was no need for a warrior to get as flustered as a teenage girl, but he had to admit, when it wasn't pounding something into a pulp, he really hated to be put on the spot like this. Even if circumstances required such a spotlight. He watched the three carefully, the man, the Garou and the rat awaiting some sort of judgment. Because he deserved as much...a trespasser was a breach of Litany to some of the harsher tribes, and who knew with Gnawers, they had a peculiar way.