Tiger Lake is offset from the center of Phoenix Park as a whole, occupying a more westerly position within the roughly square site. It is approximately circular, although naturalistic in style, with varying slopes and water-plants blending the division between lake and shore. It is surrounded by a large expanse of close-mown grass, with native trees dotted about in singles and clumps. Flatter areas offer a good place for ball-games, while slopes and beds of lower-growing plants break up the monotony and allow a degree of privacy for those who look for it.
Within the lake is a feature-piece, the statue of a tigress and her cubs. The lake is fed by a small stream- its quiet chuckling can be heard for quite a way across the water- and upstream from the lake a little Japanese-style footbridge links the Sky View Restaurant to the entrance plaza.
Compact is the word for him: wiry, maybe 5'6" in his beat-up black combat boots, with a sense of compressed energy and imminence like a coiled spring -- or a cocked gun. Never quite still for long, balance flowing through the balls of his feet. There's a striking intensity to his narrow blue-green eyes, the colour contrasting with his fair skin and spiky copper hair; just below the left is what at first appears to be a faint mole, but closer inspection reveals as a small, long-healed scar. His features are appealing, with high cheekbones and a good jawline, but it's the confident mien and roguish smile that most often seem to draw people in.
He's in a well-worn biker jacket of the traditional sort, all fairly closely fit black leather and silvery zippers and snaps. Beneath it, he's got old black jeans with a rip in one knee and the cuffs half walked off, with a faded black band t-shirt ('Anarchy Burger - Hold the Government', parodying the In-N-Out sign) under an open dark red hawaiian shirt. There's a couple leather-and-bead bracelets on one wrist and a length of ball-chain disappearing beneath his collar; his nails were apparently painted black some time ago, since they're starting to show chips. Late teens, most likely, and when he speaks it's in a mellifluous, southern-accented baritone voice.
This is a young woman of average height or a little above, maybe 5'6 or 5'7, who looks to be somewhere in her early twenties in age. She has olive skin, shoulder length dark brown hair that's almost always pulled back into a simple, tight ponytail, and even darker brown eyes that look black from any distance when they aren't catching the light. She is neither ugly nor particularly pretty, and there's a certain haggardness to her features, a sharpness defined less by genetics and more by hard living. Her build is athletic, of a sort; not the sort you see on track fields, but the sort you find among young soldiers in distant countries, or refugees that are used to moving at a moment's notice and from which reality demands a certain sort of fitness or death.
Her clothing isn't ragged, but it does tend to be rather frayed around the edges. She wears faded jeans and old but sturdy sneakers with decent treads, a variety of cheap shirts, a long sleeved button-up shirt when the wind is up, and oftentimes has a light jacket tied about her waist, as if she wanted to be prepared just in case. Her hands are well calloused, both on the palm, fingertips, and knuckles. Oftentimes she wears a very well used pair of fingerless gloves, though often these appear to have been made fingerless after the fact.
Shaggy brown hair and darker brown eyes frames this young boy's face. Justin has a slightly tanned complexion with a hint of Puerto Rican from his mother's side, Caucasian from his father's. He has a fairly lanky build that could use a bit of bulking upas he is built like a high school track runner. He wears loose fitted 'destroyed' blue jeans, simple tank tops, and worn down sneakers that are about five months in need of replacement, and during the cold, a thick green military jacket from his Grandpa. He looks like your average, ordinary American young teen that plays outside and is fairly active. Tall at five foot ten, he is a few inches higher than most his age for now.
This short, skinny white kid is only a few inches over five feet tall and looks to be around twelve or thirteen years old. His straight black hair is cut in a basic, functional style that requires little maintenance -- super-short on the back and sides and only slightly longer on top. He's got a thin face with a beaky nose, thick eyebrows, and dark brown eyes. He's not a bad-looking kid, quite the opposite, but there's still something about him that makes most normal people uneasy, a feeling of potential violence, of predatory intensity.
He's typically dressed in jeans and t-shirt and sneakers, typical casual kid-wear, with a grey hooded jacket for outdoors. Apart from the footwear, his clothing is all a little bit too big on him, but one might imagine that he'll grow into it in a year or so.
Naturally dark hair is parted from the right, feathered so that unless one looks him directly in the eye, it obscures the left eye and most of the left side of the face of the man, somewhere in his mid-to-late twenties perhaps, who wears it. It's an otherwise normal white/caucasian face showing only minimal scarring from the usual encounter with acne in his youth. He has a pair of hazel eyes, calm and showing some age beyond their years but the rest of his face seems a touch younger. He keeps cleanshaven. His jawline is on the square side but not harshly so, his chin juts a little bit, below full lips.
He's of trim frame, athletic and in good shape, though not exactly the poster child for a health club. His strength is quiet - tone rather than muscle definition. Wiry, is the word. He carries all six even feet of himself about with a casual sort of grace but one that has a tense edge to it - like his presentation isn't entirely to be trusted. At rest his body is always loose, relaxed, but again there's that edge to him. His clothing today seems focused on a military-casual theme, all shades of grey and black with cammo in as many places as he could put it.
Black leather boots are laced to the top, providing a good amount of support and containing the bloused-out cuffs of the urban-cammo miltary cargos. The pants are in the style of the US Navy Working Uniform, a pixellated hodebodge of blues and greys. The pockets installed all over the pants seem occupied by a variety of small effects, and the pants themselves seem to be both durable and fairly new. They are belted in black leather, above these is a simple grey T-shirt which reads, "He who dies with the most toys..." on the front, and "...Still dies. No Fear" on the back. His hands are unadorned save for a cheap athletic watch on his left wrist.
Parks and T'ai Chi. T'ai Chi and parks. They go together great on Sunday mornings. The thing is this: It's freakin' JANUARY. Zach, dressed like a throwback to the mid 90s, looks more the Cobra Kai type than whatever this calm, modestly-paced form of moving meditation is. His only concession to the weather, is that he's insisting on following through the forms of T'ai Chi in boots. That can't be comfortable, but when you're hardcore enough to wear a No Fear t-shirt, clearly you're hardcore enough to do your T'ai Chi in combat boots.
Salem, wandering restlessly through the park with his hood up and his hands stuffed into his pockets, comes upon Mr. No Fear T'ai Chi and slows his steps, watching from a distance. He looks tired and sleepless, half into his own headspace even as he bemusedly observes Zach.
The sound of wheels along pavement can be heard as Justin is zipping along through the park at neck break speeds on a skateboard. The young coyote is wearing a pair of destroyed denim jeans, a black sweater and a heavy military green jacket. Helmets and kneepads are for suckers and so he does not wear any. Running behind him is Felix as the two are playing a game of 'tag' of sorts.
Felix doesn't look nearly as practiced on a skateboard as his packmate, although his balance isn't bad and he seems to be taking Zach's shirt's advice on the matter of trepidation, rolling along as fast as he can get the thing to go in pursuit. The combination of shorter, lighter, and less practiced means Justin's got and is keeping a pretty good lead, which may be for the best, since Felix has a bottle of Coke in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other, and neither is exactly ideal for getting tagged by. He loses more ground when he notices the guy doing t'ai chi off to the side, and slows down slightly to look.
Credit where it's due: not much appears to take Zach out of his movements. The skateboarded episode of Predator and Prey has his gaze whenever his head is pointed in that direction, given away by the way his eyes track them even if his face doesn't. But the T'ai Chi continues uninterrupted, Single Whip into Strum The Lute; Strum the Lute into Shoulder Strike. It's the practiced, familiar ease of someone who's been doing this for years - consistent with someone who's committed enough to doing it in January, though... most people would do it in indoors if they were able. Nothing about Zach suggests that he's derelict to the point of being forced indoors.
Salem's head snaps around at the sound of approaching skateboard wheels, and he's already stepping to the far edge of the sidewalk to avoid possibly getting run over, even before he recognizes Justin and Felix. He pushes his hood back and gives a half-assed wave.
"Dude, I am going to rock this move!" Justin calls over as he slams his foot against the sidewalk for another burst of speed, aims for a bench and does a kick flip upwards. Unfortunately, he does not get the desired height and the bottom wheel of his board clips the top of the bench. Flying face forward, he slams himself down on the ground and slides about two feet. The skateboard lazily rolls by him. "... ow." The Ahroun pushes himself up slowly, putting a hand to his face to test the bones there, then waves to Salem with a bloody toothed grin.
Felix proves what a great friend he is by cracking up at the outcome of Justin's attempt, and just about falling off his own board as a result. Lucky for him, that earlier slowing means he's able to just put a foot down and stop rather inelegantly instead of ending up in some bushes. "I can honestly say that's the most impressive move you done yet," he teases his packmate, and responds to Salem's wave with a chin-lift of greeting before pocketing his bottle and offering his fallen friend a hand up.
Zach's face doesn't show the smirk that lights up his eyes, and even if it did, it'd likely be lost in all the commotion by the bench. He does hesitate in White Crane Spreads His Wings, holding the posture - and thereby his view of the Aftermath of Cool(tm) - several beats longer than any of the other postures in his routine. The Harry Potter Hater, as Ghost might remember him, is going T'ai Chi, in January, alone, in combat boots. Because... reasons. Maybe.
Salem winces at Justin's wipeout, teeth baring in a brief twitch of a grimace. He shakes his head, exhales a tension-heavy breath, and wanders over to join the Coyotes. "You all right?" he asks Justin. Zach is, for the moment, forgotten.
Justin reaches out and snags Felix's hand as he hefts himself up, then starts to laugh after spitting out a glob of blood. "See! I rocked the fuck out of that." He wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand, then grins to Salem. "Yeah, I'm cool. Just been a few years since I've skated proper. Not the first time I've had a concrete sandwich. Sup with you dude? Didn't you have one eye last time I saw you?"
"Looked to me more like it rocked the fuck outta you," Felix says, "but hey, tomayto, tomahto." He pulls the bottle back out of his jacket pocket and offers it to Justin, "If you wanna wash some of that blood down." Salem gets a grin all for his own, then, and a, "'sup?"
"Had it fixed," Salem says, answering Justin. "Trying to blend in... y'know? As much as possible."
Zach's observation of the youths remains cursory as his own work proceeds. Parry and Punch, easily the most martial movement in the pattern, is delivered with a touch more force, a touch more aggression than the rest of the pattern. That heightened intensity carries with it a sensation - beyond sight, sound, taste, touch, or smell - a releasing of tension like a trigger pull or a spring rebounding. It's a small thing, a subtle thing, but it still permeates the air in Zach's vicinity and lingers there; the last note in a slow cresendo that you hear even after the players have put their instruments down. He enters Closing of T'ai Chi, facing the rising sun with his eyes drifted shut and a look of calm on his face that's out of place against the clothing he wears. He releases one final breath, and the exhale deflates him a bit. Dude is /serious/ about his T'ai Chi.
Felix takes a moment to look over Salem's eyes, and nods. "Makes sense, reckon people'd ask a lot more pointed questions about it than before otherwise," he says, and looks over toward the end of the T'ai Chi, around the time of that sensation, though it may just be the more aggressive movement that goes along with it that catches his eye. "So, how come you're wanderin' out here all early in the cold?" As if he weren't.
Ghost stands out here a lot more than at Harbor Park, purely by virtue of the worn, shabby look that seems to be her particular choice in clothing style. She's heading toward the lake as well, but in a meandering, unhurried sort of way, with shoulders slightly hunched and faintly narrowed eyes taking in her surroundings with a faint air of wariness, as though the park itself is untrustworthy.
Salem follows Felix's glance toward Zach and lingers there for a moment. "The cold doesn't--" He's interrupted with a yawn, which he stifles somewhat behind a hand, then grimaces. "I don't mind the cold. What, ah, what're /you/ doing up so early?"
As Zach opens his eyes, that sense-beyond-sense in the air around him fades away. The grassy field in the park is once again just the grassy field in the park. The man in the No Fear shirt is once again just the man in No Fear shirt. He nods to himself, once, and then turns towards the youths. As he turns, his gaze sweeps across Ghost and he grins. He makes no move to intercept her, instead he takes stock of the park, the people here, the statue. His face has that contemplative tone that someone trying to figure out their next move has as they look around a room that probably has few answers.
"Ain't been to sleep yet," Felix replies with a shrug, grinning again, "...an' he dragged me back out." He indicates Justin with a tilt of the head, where the other Gnawer's stepped away to get his escaping board and possibly make sure all his teeth are still in place or something. "It's fuckin' freezin' though. I gotta remember to pick up some gloves or somethin'." He ashes his cigarette onto the sidewalk, glancing over to look over Ghost at the hint of broadly-approaching movement.
Ghost's attention eventually shifts from park to occupants. It's unclear if she spots Zach or not, but when she spies Salem and Felix (and the departing Justin), her pace slows even further, even if it doesn't entirely stop.
Salem eyes the cigarette, then looks over toward Ghost. He waves over at the scruffy woman, then shoves his hands back deep into his hoodie pockets. "It's just early. It'll warm up later."
When Ghost starts receiving hails from the youths, the whole thought process of 'what should I do now' that's going on in Zach's head seems to be interrupted. He takes a knee, unlacing and relacing his boots one at a time. They're not exactly designed for all that reach-stepping and shifting his weight around that he was doing. Even so, he's painstaking about it.
"Well, yeah, but I'm out here =now=," Felix says, with a vague gesture toward the world at large, "...plus, the other thing about it bein' warmer later, it's even colder earlier." He gives Ghost a more focused once-over when Salem waves to her, flashing her a friendly if not entirely familiar grin. "Friend of yours?" he asks his companion.
Ghost waves in return; it's a little more cautious, more uncertain, but it's a wave all the same. She seems to take it as permission to join them, because that's what she does, stepping in just close enough to be considered part of the group, and no closer. "Hey," she says.
Salem nods at Felix's question. "Family," he tells the Gnawer. He tilts his head, looking up at Ghost. "Morning."
Boots laced, Zach pulls out a cheapass phone, checking for messages or something of the sort while he wanders towards a bench. After a moment he holds it to his ear, and his gaze takes on that far-away tone like someone listening to voicemail.
Felix gives Ghost the same kind of greeting chin-lift Salem got, along with a, "Hey," in response to hers. "Felix," he adds, "Nice meetin' ya." He's got one foot on a somewhat rickety-looking skateboard, and is rolling it back and forth slightly, a bit fidgety -- not nervous-seeming, more as if he's been staying fairly still in one place for a while now and is getting antsy to move again.
"Ghost," the newcomer responds. She appears to be studying Felix carefully, though Salem only got a cursory looking over.
Salem is, meanwhile, studying Ghost. "Are you doing all right?"
Zach settles down on the bench, still listening to his voicemail. His gaze falls from skyward to the ground at his feet. After a moment his eyes close and he pinches the bridge of his nose. Bad news, probably.
Having snagged his skateboard and made sure all the wheels were still good, Justin heads back, this time with less blood on his face. No teeth are missing which is a good sign the rest of him may be okay.
Felix studies Ghost right back after her introduction, and although his posture was already fairly upright, under her scrutiny his chin lifts up slightly and shoulders move a touch back, the fidgeting briefly subsiding again. "Ghost, huh? Think I mighta heard you mentioned before," he says.
Ghost doesn't seem to be particularly thrilled by the notion that Felix might have heard of her. The scrutiny ends, if reluctantly, and she looks at Salem again. "Yeah," she murmurs, before allowing, "mostly. I'm fine."
At last the phone comes away from Zach's ear and he repockets it. He doesn't make any obvious signs that he's inclined to get back up off the bench however.
Salem nods, though his gaze lingers on Ghost a little more before he turns his attention to the Coyotes. "Anything new on your end?"
"Hey Ghost, whaddup?" Justin asks as he kicks the board up and catches it with his hand. "Not much on our end, no. Still hunting down these vampires that beat the crap outta me and Watcher a few months back. They talked all this shit about taking the city and then they disappeared just as fast. I bet they caught wind of the hot mess we already have here and noped the fuck out." He gives a stretch of his back. "I think we're mostly bored as fuck."
Felix at least seems more interested by whatever he may have heard than bothered. He glances over to check what T'ai Chi Dude is up to now, then back to his little group. "Yeah, things ain't been real busy around us lately. Which is a cryin' shame an' probably against some kinda law, somewhere." He steps onto the skateboard with his other foot, now, balancing as it wobbles a little.
Zach leans back on the bench and studies the sky again. He lets out a deep sigh, and directs zero visible attention in the direction of the youths and their discussion. His mouth pulls into a tight line at whatever thoughts he has.
"Nothing," Ghost answers, in that way that people her age and younger tend to automatically say it. "Meeting tonight for people with uh, with information on what's going on."
Salem hrmphs, a noise more suitable for a grouchy old man than a tween-ish kid. "Vampires have never been able to get a decent foothold in this city," he says. "Not for long, anyway. Thank god." He eyeballs Ghost. "Are you going?"
"Oh yeah, I gotta go to that being that I'm Alpha and all." Justin scrunches his nose a bit. "I'm sure it's gonna be a lot of big dogs puffing their chest and acting like assholes and me sitting there with a huge grin on my face wondering when everyone will find out I spiked the hot cocoa with exlax."
Zach pages: Zach is prooooobbably eavesdropping. Either that or he's deep in though and the nearby conversation doesn't distract him, but he looks like he's trying to invent reasons to stick around, and is running out but sticking around anyway.
Long distance to Zach: Felix grins.
Zach pages: The v-word might be a thing he's cued into, specifically.
>>> You rolled 4 dice at 6 diff (2 8 6 2): 2 successes. <<<
>>> alertness + perception to notice Zach's maybe listening...
The winter chill may have finally gotten to Zach, as he pulls a pair of fingerless gloves out of one of the cargo pockets of his pants. He slips them on, straps them down tight, and then rummages in another pocket for what sounds like, and proves to be, a set of keys. He doesn't rise, though, just fidgets with the keys, perhaps contemplating where he could go to find warmth.
"Does that shit even melt?" Felix says, "Maybe you oughta make cookies instead." He glances sidelong toward the man on the bench again, and then to the others; Justin and Salem get a very slight lift of the eyebrows before his gaze flicks to Zach again, then back to them. "I reckon that'd spoil the stories, though. People gettin' halfway through their tale before they gotta run for the can, you'd never get to the good part. All build up an' no climax. And that ain't never any fun."
"Huh. Can you really see Thane and Silvertip and Mouse all sitting around eating cookies at moot? Nah. Gotta go with cocoa because it's cold outside. Anyways, OhNo is pinging me, says he got something to give me a 4-1-1 about so I am going to scoot. Felix, get the rest of the Yotes together so we can have a team meeting before moot." Giving a grin to the others, he salutes. "See you later yo. Salem, we gotta hang out more." With that, he slides the board down and hops on, starting off with a whoosh!
"The new boss invited me," Ghost says by way of explanation, "I think I'd better." Justin gets a squinty, uncertain look, followed by another glance to Salem, as if she were asking for confirmation of something.
Justin's departure pulls Zach's attention and he studies the youth as he makes his exit, brow furrowed as if trying to place something. It's probably also possible he's watching out of pure schadenfreude, hoping to catch another epic moment of face meeting asphalt. He doesn't get it, of course, but you miss 100% of the wipeouts you don't look for.
Felix winces just faintly at Justin's reply, the skyward glance somewhat less faint, as is the sigh. "Hey, J, remember what I told you my friend Jayce useta say?" he starts to say to his packmate, but zoom goes that skateboard. "...anyway," he says, glancing after him -- and in the process, at Zach -- "yeah, you don't wanna piss off the boss. Ain't never a good time to get fired or nothin'." He turns back to the remaining two, face intentionally away from Mr. T'ai Chi, and murmurs about as quietly as he thinks the other two should be able to hear, "Y'all sure that dude ain't been listenin'? 'cause I ain't."
"What's the point of doing that anyway?" Ghost asks, though Felix's follow up does have her glancing briefly toward Zach, and then, once more, to Salem. "Do we know him? He kept talking about Mr. Dalton the other day."
Either Zach's not in tune with the part of the universe that makes one's ears burn, or induces a sneeze, when people talk about you, or he's so accustomed to it that he doesn't notice. He also, apparently can't hear everything, if he is, because the hushed speech also fails to garner a change in his behavior.
<OOC> Salem rolls some dice. Eyes them.
<OOC> Felix takes a slow but large step to the side. >_>
Salem raises an eyebrow. "Really." He tilts his head, eyeballing Zach sidelong, studying him from a distance. His nostrils flare -- and then he looks startled. Turning back to the others, he says, with some quiet amazement, "Kami."
Felix takes a turn to look startled as well, blinking once and stealing another sidelong glance at the man in question. "What, really? ...somehow that ain't what I'd imagined they'd look like." Still speaking fairly quietly, and he doesn't sound dubious, just surprised. "Although I s'pose there ain't any real reason I shouldn't've..."
Ghost looks startled by this revelation as well, and more than a little confused. She starts to say something, but just as quickly stops herself, and shoots Zach another sidelong look.
Maybe he's picking up on the fact that the conversation is getting quiet. Maybe he's picking up on the glances. Maybe he's solidly over being as cold as he probably is, having been out here for however long he has. Whatever the reason, he rises from the seat.
Salem resists the urge to peer at Zach again. "Yes, well, they're rare enough that every one is unique. I've only seen one other, years ago." He scruffs up the top of his head, still looking bemused. "Sentient pile of earthworms."
"...okay, I admit that prolly ain't what I'd've imagined either," Felix says, and takes a drag off what little remains of his cigarette before dropping it onto the sidewalk and moving one foot off the skateboard to grind it out. "So... is there somethin' we oughta be doin'?"
Ghost finally manages to find her voice, and it remains low. "...Why would a Kami want to fight Mr. Dalton?"
Without haste, Zach begins walking along one of the designated walking paths, boots crunching here and there on the accumulated dirt and sand as he goes. His pace is unhurried, but deliberate. He's making his way towards the parking lot, keys in hand, mayhap to leave.
Salem shrugs at Ghost. "I haven't a clue. Angered the wrong entity, maybe? Only Dalton could say."
Ghost rubs a thumb along her jaw for a moment. "He didn't seem angry. Uh, eager. Excited? He was more angry about my book for some reason. He /was/ pretty weird all around though." She turns her head enough to be able to watch Zach go out of the corner of one eye. "And he's trained."
"Maybe he found out he useta be a cop," Felix suggests. Probably joking, though it's just serious enough to leave a question as to whether it's entirely. "How'd that come up, anyhow? Tryin' to find him?" One more glance toward Zach, possibly assessing his fight-potential, possibly just noticing the leaving, but if the Adren's not concerned... He looks to Ghost, "What book?"
Zach keeps walking, far enough now that any possibility of further evesdropping would require enhanced powers, or a boom mic.
Salem isn't not concerned, he's only just noticing Zach heading off. Indecision grips him for a moment, and then he excuses himself and heads off after the 'kami', breaking into a quick trot.
Ghost shrugs at Felix. "He thought I was one of Mr. Dalton's friends. And it was, uh, Harry Potter." In a possibly amusing echo of Salem's own indecision, Ghost visibly hesitates as the Walker moves off after Zach, clearly torn.
Felix quirks a brow at Ghost. "He was pissed about Harry Potter? Don't look the 'that's Satan's work' type." Now that he has a hand free, he doesn't hesitate at all in picking up the skateboard -- okay, first he tries to pop it up into his hand like Justin did, but when that inevitably fails, just picks it up -- and strolling along in Salem's wake. He's allowed to be nosy, he's a Galliard.
<OOC> Zach says "Anyone want to claim proficiency in reading someone's body language, especially tension/level and what someone might do about it? (a'la Ghost's 'he's trained' remark)"
<OOC> Ghost is gonna follow in a sec, but she'd be the furthest back. Perception 4 though, and that kind of thing she pays attention to.
<OOC> Felix would like to CLAIM it, but it's pretty situational. ;)
<OOC> Salem is perception 3 and probably good at reading 'nervous/guilty/tense' since he's around it a lot. :P
<OOC> Felix is a mere perception 2. Is pretty good at reading 'imminent violence' and 'flirting'. Suspects the latter doesn't apply here.
<OOC> Zach says "You never know... ;)"
Zach's pace doesn't change. The first rule of You're Being Pursued club is don't act like you're a member of You're Being Pursued club. Still, the idle fidgeting stops as Salem et al. begin to close the distance. Now and again Zach will look to the side, always at some insignificant object like a tree or bush he's passing, but those familiar with tailing - or being tailed - recognize the deliberate use of peripheral vision to keep tabs on one's surroundings. He's simply too interested in every random bush and sapling he passes. For someone keeping tabs on whether or not he's being pursued, he's a cool customer. The fidgeting didn't cease (or exist) out of anxiety, rather, out of focus.
Salem isn't being at all subtle, though of the three, he's probably the least frightening -- at least judging by surface appearance alone. A dog-walker he passes gives the kid a nervous look, though, while her terrier-mutt goes into a frenzy of rage-fear yapping. The Philodox ignores both and puts on a bit of speed to close the distance between himself and the stranger and even yells out, "Hey, mister!"
Felix admittedly looks like trouble, but not imminent or directed trouble, at the moment. The dog walker does put a hand over her purse when he passes by, though, and the terrier is still certain these passersby are of the devil. He doesn't appear to notice; even when Salem speeds up, Felix continues sauntering after at the same speed, observing but not quite involved.
Salem's call... Zach doesn't bother pretending to not hear it. He instead draws in a breath deep enough to lift his shoulders, then lets it out slowly. He turns to look over one of those shoulders, fixing Salem with his gaze. He's probably going for a 'who me?' flavor of curiosity, but Zach is decidedly not that suave and the wariness that's plain in his eyes and on his face (nothing new to someone who lives with The Curse, mind) comes out more like, 'do you know how many muggings begin with *Hey, mister*?'
Ghost continues to trail behind even Felix, but her course is deliberately curved enough that she bypasses the poor woman and her dog entirely, although she does seem to make a young couple stop and give her a leery double-take when she passes near them.
<OOC> Zach . o O (Wow, EVERYONE in this park thinks these folks are bad news. Zach, what the hell did you get yourself into now.)
<OOC> Ghost says "There's just a little Rage going around. Just a little."
<OOC> Felix finds it amusing the 'prey' is half a foot taller than any of the rest of us.
<OOC> Zach says "the kneecaps are in danger!"
<OOC> Felix says "Slightly higher. We don't fight fair. >:)"
<OOC> Zach can respect that
Salem isn't even the slightest bit out of breath as he comes up to Zach, stopping just outside arm's reach. "I'm a friend of Nick Dalton's," the kid says, nice and to the point. "And my /other/ friend says you've got some kind of issue with him." He doesn't look back to check on Felix or Ghost, either simply trusting that they have his back or not actually expecting them to follow.
Felix hums quietly to himself as he follows, catching up reasonably quickly now that the leaders have stopped. When he reaches them, he of course stops, leaning up against a handy trash can, on top of which he sets the skateboard, freeing his hands to open his bottle and take a drink. For the moment, he doesn't interrupt, although he does briefly look tempted to say =something=.
Zach pivots, as Salem closes into not-quite-reach, the motion a seamless and organic transformation of a forward step. He also stops there, studying Salem a moment. "Issue's a strong word, for now." Zach says, sizing the apparent youth up. "I have business with him, is all. He may or may not agree." Cryptic thought it may be, there's no threat in any of his explanation. It's just facts, to Zach. "Or are you here about that business?" THAT may have had just a teeny dash of 'make my day' thrown in for flavor.
Ghost arrives a little later, although 'arrive' isn't quite the right word. She closes the distance, but not entirely, and while it's feasible she's able to overhear now, it's also feasible that she isn't. She doesn't really watch the others so much as the other people in the park, and then only through brief, to-all-outward-appearances casual glances.
"Nick Dalton's welfare is /my/ business," Salem says, looking up at Zach. His stance is confident, sneakered feet slightly spread, hands only loosely tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. "So, when I hear that you want to /fight/ him, I get concerned." The kid sounds pretty reasonable, though, not threatening.
Felix closes the bottle back up, setting it next to the skateboard, and straightens up slightly, new stance an echo of Salem's, although in the Galliard's case he also seems to be slightly moving to some music no one else can hear, at the moment. It's not an aggressive sort of position, at least not right now.
Zach's body language shifts subtley, adapting to Salem's presence, his own stance casual, relaxed, natural - signs Ghost, for example, has seen before. Zach's head is loose on his neck, rolling around expressively, making a great deal of motion - motion that draws the attention upwards. He does not, however, use his height advantage in any kind of traditional 'loom and doom' intimidation play. If anything, he's leaning back, away from Salem, thumbs hooked at the top of his pockets, making himself appear less tall, less imposing. "I absolutely would love to fight him," Zach confesses, openly and without guile. "He's a cool customer though, didn't seem inclined to issue the challenge when I pissed in his cornflakes. On the other hand..." And now Zach's grin goes lopsided, dominating the right corner of his mouth, leaving the left untouched. "...now /you're/ here."
Ghost's mouth pulls into a displeased sort of grimace--yeah, she's eavesdropping--and her attention may shift more visibly toward the confrontation, but it's very hard to tell.
Salem's eyebrows go up. He shifts his weight a little, considering Zach's response and taking a heartbeat or two to decide which part to respond to. "/Why/ do you want to fight Mr. Dalton, though?" There's a very slight hesitation before the 'mister', almost unnoticeable.
It seems that the Ahroun is making a re-appearance after taking care of business with a coyote spirit and a can of spray cheese. Justin trudges back towards the group with a lumber in his step and the skateboard dangling from one hand back and forth as he grips it by the front axis. His eyes sweep towards Zach, then to the rest of the group curiously as he looks to get Felix's attention.
The group's moved a fair distance since Justin left them, and that itself might be noteworthy. Felix's drink and skateboard are on top of the trashcan just behind him, and when he sees his packmate return, he glances to Zach and Salem again, then moves over toward Justin. He's not moving any quicker than he did when he was following, but there's something more clearly balanced and graceful in the stride at present.
Zach's gaze goes to Ghost, when he's questioned on that front, and he squints a bit as if trying to pull some answer out of the thin air between them. It's only a split second before he looks back. "He has something I want. He probably doesn't know it, but he does." There's amusement in the tone, like ome private joke where the punchline is the conversation he's having with Salem. "And unless you're also in the business of protecting his pride, and not just his person or his valuables? The nerves aren't necessary. You know what?" He pulls his right thumb out of his pocket and offers the hand to Salem without removing the glove. "We're off on the wrong foot. If you're a friend of Mr. Dalton, I should've introduced myself. I'm Zach. Zach Penn."
Ghost moves in almost as soon as Felix moves out. There's nothing really aggressive about her motions on their own, though it's clear she's intentionally filling the spot as Salem's immediate backup. Zach gets a scrutinizing look, one of many she's already given, but she doesn't say anything herself.
Salem steps forward to grasp the proffered hand. "Jack." His grip isn't especially strong, but it's not weak or limp, either, and he stares up at Zach like he doesn't give a damn about the difference in height and age.
Tasting the tension in the air, Justin practically eats it up with a wider grin on his face. The young Ahroun meets his packmate and gives him a bump on the shoulder. "Sup'? What's going on with the hipster yoga dude?" He calls out a bit too loudly as his arms give a few sways to loosen up.
Felix tilts his head, giving his packmate an upward look from the corner of his eyes, one brow lifted. His answer is considerably quieter than the question, for Justin's ears only. "He was damn close when shit was getting talked about. Salem says he's a Kami. An' apparently he wants to fight Nick for some reason, which's what they're discussin'." A slight pause. "Also he hates Harry Potter, I guess? But I don't reckon that's relevant right now."
Zach's own grip is polite, firm, but also not terribly strong. He gives Salem a nod, then retracts his hand. "Pleasure, Jack. I promise you Mr. Dalton won't have so much as a bruise on anything but his pride - unless he's a monumental idiot, which... so far he hasn't been. Hell, if he agrees to the contest, you can be there to supervise for all I care." Said with an additional shrug.
Ghost looks from Zach to Salem again, then back. "You still don't make any sense," she tells the man.
"I absolutely will, /if/ Mr. Dalton agrees." Salem tilts his head, scrutinizing Zach. "So, to be clear, you'll /only/ fight Nick Dalton if he agrees to fight you?"
"Hey asshole! Whatcha got against Harry fucking Potter!?" That's Justin, firing off his mouth towards the yoga hipster. "That dude overcame all odds after his parents got whacked! Now you wanna pick a fight with my boy Nick? Yo, how come this guy still got two working legs right now?"
Salem visibly twitches when Justin yells, and his pleasant conversational demeanor gets more than a little tight and brittle.
"'cause Jack's doin' fuckin' diplomacy!" Felix replies to the other Gnawer, not as quietly this time. "Works better startin' with everyone bein' able to walk." It comes out a very odd mixture of exasperated and amused. C'mon, the Potter thing was funny.
Zach was about to answer Salem when Justin raised the alarm, as it were. He closes his mouth, and - without looking away from Salem - waits for it to finish. "As long," Zach says pointing in Justin's direction, "as that's the worst Mr. Dalton gives me? I don't take first shots." That finger comes right back to Salem, "Speaking of... you /ask/ next time, capisce?" Tension is going up on all fronts, apparently.
Ghost gives a visible, deliberate flinch at Justin's words, almost at the same time as Salem. She's distracted however, decidedly so. Zach is given a very slow, very careful look now. Her mouth starts to open, but closes before any words come out.
"Breaking legs is diplomacy also. Street politics. Homeboy better get his finger outta Jack's face." Justin says, puffing a bit as he snags the collar of his jacket and pops it a bit. The hand that holds the skateboard swings it back and forth a bit more as he steps past Felix, striding with street swagger as his lips curl back. "Yo, Jack, you want me to fuck this guy up? Looks like he's showing some mad disrespect."
Salem goes dangerously still; he clearly doesn't like being pointed at, and he's already on edge. "Capisce," he says to Zach, brusquely, and then suddenly turns on his heel and storms over toward Justin, looking furious.
There another of those faint winces as Justin moves forward, and Felix glances skyward briefly before following his packmate, just slightly behind him. He's back in a readied stance again, even as he says, "J, he's got this." And then the Philodox in question is storming their way, and the Galliard mostly looks resigned.
The instant Salem's answered, Zach nods, satisfied - but more than that. Whether it gets through or not is another matter, but there's a new level of respect and an expression of 'okay then, we understand each other now' in the depth and duration of Zach's nod of acceptance. He begins his own de-escalation, even as Salem is bearing down on Justin. He looks back to Ghost, perhaps seemingly out of the blue. "I'm taking that as a compliment," he informs her, a deliberately relaxed statement, perhaps to cut the tension.
"Yeah.. I'm in trouble." Justin says as he cracks his neck from side to side, the words for his packmate under his breath. "What's a Kami by the way? I probably shoulda asked that first. Aren't they like the spider dudes?" As he spies Salem storming towards them, he gives a wily, Coyote driven grin. "Uhh.. sorry? Just trying to back you up."
Ghost's upper lip lifts a little, showing just a little tooth, but whatever that expression is in reaction to, it ends almost as soon as she starts it, and before Zach addresses her. Even so, her tension is palpable. She gives Zach a careful nod, questions still writ large in her expression. "Sorry," she says, though it's not remotely clear what she's apologizing for.
Salem stops short of arm's reach of Justin and glowers up at the Ahroun. "I was /trying/ to /avoid/ violence, not start a goddamned brawl in the middle of a city park," he says, keeping his volume low with effort. New moon or not, the halfmoon is seething.
"Spider...? Nah. Tell you after," Felix replies to Justin, also sotto voce, and then shuts up as the Adren nears.
Zach's grin is halfhearted towards Ghost, especially as the dressing-down starts. "C'est la vie," he says to the Raggie, "I'll make my exit now, but au revoir." His French, for what it's worth, is crisp and flawless, though the words he chose just then are hardly unusual phrases even for non-speakers. Unlike his English, that, which has no accent markers - though his phrasing betrays him as an American. He fishes his keys out of his pocket again, and resumes his journey towards the parking lot, backpedalling at first.
Justin reaches up and rubs at his nose with the back of his hand. "... yeah but ... that dude dissed Harry Potter. Something is wrong with a guy who hates on what is considered the greatest book series of all time." His eyes glance away from Salem subtly, tilting his chin upwards a bit. ".. My bad, bro. I just didn't want this asshole to think he can beef with you cuz you're like .. in the seventh grade again or some shit."
Ghost watches Zach go, but makes no move whatsoever to impede or delay him. Once he's a few dozen feet out she turns toward the conversation (confrontation?) between the two Gnawers and the Walker.
Salem takes in a deep breath and lets it out, reaching for calm. "I appreciate the sentiment," he says tightly. "Really. But I am perfectly capable of fighting my own battles, and if someone wants to underestimate me because of what I look like -- /especially/ someone who isn't like /us/ -- then that's a /good/ thing."
"It's annoyin', but it sure as hell makes demonstratin' their error easier," Felix agrees, and there's a brief flash of a rather malicious grin, "...and more fun." He watches Zach's departure from the corner of his eye, but his focus is still on Salem and Justin.
Justin holds up his fist to Salem for a bump. "... Still wanted to punch him. Who does fucking yoga in public anyways unless you're begging for attention? Uh.. I think we got a thing to go to tonight."
"That wasn't Yoga," Ghost says, although it's low enough that it might not carry. She glances back toward the park exit.
Salem returns the fist bump, though it's obvious that the halfmoon's still full of simmering rage. "We do. Have a thing." He looks over at Ghost and waves her over.