Anything Beyond That [Ray]

[Gwen Sullivan] The weather was frosty, the kind of cold that bit at your nose and toes when you stayed outside for too long, that made the fronts of your thighs go numb and tingly after walking against the breeze for longer than three blocks. It was chilly even without snow or a biting wind. It was, simply, December. The clouds were scattered few and far inbetween, leaving the sky open to have the dull pinkish glow of the city lights reflected off of it, only a few select stars visible despite. The most visible thing, though, the moon, was utterly absent.

Yet, despite that, Gwen had found herself needing to get out of the house. Walls felt oppressive, the workload of homework that she'd piled on to graduate early (within the month, as a matter of fact) had begun to frustrate her, and the concern of snapping on and/or revealing herself to her parents became more tangible a thing than just some vague fear that she wore like a gossamer cape.

So she'd walked several blocks from home until she reached one of many parks situated throughout the city, this one just as forgettable as the rest with sidewalk paths carved free from the snow and salted down to prevent injuries, park benches and play equipment dormant for the season under the crusting, freezing remnants from the other evening's snowfall, and a few lamps bathing the scene in a dirty, weak yellow light.

Gwen sat at the edge of the park, against the sidewalk framing it, on a simple bench, metal dipped in an industrial blue rubber for comfort and to prevent rusting along the back and the seat. She wore a pair of jeans tucked into shin-tall black boots and a rough olive green canvas jacket. Her hair was left down, a simple black beanie was pulled overtop of it, and an off-white wool scarf was wrapped about under her chin. She had her legs crossed so that the right ankle was on top of the left knee, and she wore gloves to match the scarf, the kinds that had the fingertips removed, affectionately referred to as 'hobo gloves' by the majority. She was, of all things, reading a book, some small unobtrusive paperback that couldn't be more than 300 pages long.

Some kids still read, it was as reliable an escape as a gameboy but it would never run out of batteries.

[Ray Ostermann] You would think that at long last, once the work week had ended that Ray would abandon his suits, would forsake the troubles and trials of work for a more stress free and ultimately more enjoyable time on his weekend. But it would seem that now was not one of those times, as the man moved down the sidewalk at the edge of this particular park, dressed in one of those oh so finely tailored suit's that hugged his body just so, and a long knee length overcoat to keep the cold at bay.

He moved along casually now, his purpose for the evenings trip already taken care off, another building on his targeted list of places to liquidate, another warehouse up for purchase. Ray had a great many plan's some of them for the nation itself, some for clients and most importantly some for himself. He might not be of Thunder's tribe any longer, but old habits died hard.

He had met the young garou only once before, on a jaunt through the cities largest park on a chance encounter with her and another kin who he had gotten to know more and more of late, and when those blue eyes fell upon the outline of the warrior in the making Ray couldn't help but smile to himself as he stepped over the threshold of the park grounds. He made his way over casually his hands slipping from his coat pocket in anticipation of a hand shake, as he drew close he spoke in that warm rich tone that got to so many.

"You know, I have it on good authority that it's a good idea to read with a generous light source and a warm blanket, not the bare lighting of a street lamp on a cold november night on a bare bones bench."

[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen saw him coming long before he spoke up. It could be something that she was born with from being Garou, a part of a survival and predatory instinct woven together, but she was incredibly perceptive-- it seemed that she saw, noticed, and more importantly remembered everything. Her eyes, some smokey blend of blue and gray to match the atmosphere about her, hopped up from the page of her book to land on Ray and stay on him as he approached. Three months from now she would remember the color of his coat and the way that he parted his hair.

This wasn't something that she bragged about openly, though. It tended to freak people out almost more than the thought of claws and fangs did. He had his hand out prepared for a shake, but until he actually stuck it out and initiated the polite gesture, she kept her hands and her book all together in her lap. She tipped her chin to look up at him from the bench, expression flat but hardly emotionless, not yet a hardened mask from too many battles gone by-- she was far too young, too new for that.

"It's December," she informed him initially, and glanced down after doing so in that faint rasp of a voice of hers. She stuck a plain, modest bookmark in the spot that she'd been at and tucked the small paperback into one of the large, deep pockets inside of her coat. Bare fingertips zipped and buttoned the jacket back up as looked back up and spoke further. "I had to get out from under ceilings for a bit. Guess a little bit turned into a while, though." The way she stated it wasn't a tone of 'oh look how the time has passed, I suppose I should be going'. Rather, it indicated that she thought she might instead be spending the majority of the night outside.

[Ray Ostermann] "Well well I suppose that is two points to you, none for me, not a very good start was it?" He said as a chuckle rolled outward from deep within his throat that warm rich sound made only more luxuriant by it. At this distance Ray smelled as he always did, of fine spirits, fine cigars and a subtle but heady cologne that matched and complimented his style. In the brighter light of lamp it was apparent that his coat was indeed a deep brown.

"My losses aside it is a pleasure to see you once more Gwen, how have you been?" He asks as at last he sticks out a hand to offer in shake, it was a pleasant gesture, but a practiced one none the less. He took that moment to look her over, her clothing, her hair even the flat but somewhat evocative look upon her face, that growing defiance that existed within all teenagers, even more so in teenage garou, or so he imagined.

[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen was indeed a teenager, and she looked every bit of it. Her face was young (but clear, she used face wash religiously after watching her elder brother go through acne hell) and decorated with a piercing in the cleft of her upper lip and a matching stud in her left nostril. Her hair, from when he'd last seen it, had been a darker tone of brown, now it seemed the dye must have faded away because now it was plainer, mousier, easier to forget. Her make-up was largely rubbed away, save for a few flakes of mascara still clinging to her lashes, and her build still wasn't quite womanly enough yet for her to be recognized fully as an adult-- this was made worse by the bulky coat she wore in the winter.

He stuck his hand out, and she reached out to grasp it, squeezing in the way young women do when they're trying to stand their ground and force respect-- not hard enough to pinch or be uncomfortable, but noticeable none the less. She withdrew her hand and used it to tug her scarf up the back of her neck. She seemed to pause for a moment, thoughtful, then scooted her rear across the seat of the bench, away from him, to offer up room for him to sit if he wanted. It was only polite, after all. The invitation was implied rather than spoken aloud, and the conversation flowed as usual.

"Likewise." She supposed. She couldn't say it was a true pleasure. He looked nice, his clothes fit well and were expensive, he smelled like a warm den complete with the hint of well-polished mahogany that had to be the desk and furniture, because it was only the best for a guy like him. Yet he still set her on edge. It could be because she was a teenager prone to bouts of self-consciousness, or it could be because she had some underlying gut feeling that he would chat people up, befriend them, and then find a way to sell their houses out from under their feet and collect the profit. Make sure you have a passport if you go against this guy, he'll see to it you want to flee the country. "I've been... probably the same as any other person that's been in my shoes. I can't honestly say 'good', but I can't really complain either." A beat, then manners kick in. "How about you?"

[Ray Ostermann] Ray nodded in gratitude to the offered seat and stepped forward, closing those last few spaces between them before he turned to lower his frame into the open spot left my the young woman. As he sat he let one arm go over the back bench so that his arm could stretch out without impeding the young woman, or entering into her comfort zone. One leg was crossed over the other in that ankle to knee way that some men tended too and his free hand idly brushed down his pant's and flicked the snow from a his mirror polished shoes.

His eyes filled with laughter, and as he spoke his voice hinted at it, as if there were indeed a moment of mirth to be shared but was kept ever so slightly contained. "School always was, and always will be a situation that allows things to only ever be good." He said sagely as he turned to meet her gaze. "Even if it is ever so useful."

Having found himself comfortable his free hand slipped inside his jacket and began to search for something in what must have been a multitude of pockets within its well stitched interior. "I've been quite well, thank you for asking. Work is as always a kind, if firm mistress and as usually she has me working when I'd much rather be doing something fun." The smile does not so much appear on his face, as be heard in his tone, as if to say 'yes work is a pain, but i still enjoy it' sort of way.

As he finished that his hand retrieves what it had sought and pulled out a slim metal case and an old box lighter. The case itself was old as well, designed with a series of gold and silver embellishments that were very remincient of the art deco style, with a click of a button the case sprung open revealing a nicely packed row of cigarettes and he looked from her to the contents of the case. "Do you mind?"

[Gwen Sullivan] "Go ahead."

He'd asked if she minded if he had a cigarette, and her dismissal was immediate. Her parents had smoked and quit and repeated the cycle a few times. Currently they'd 'quit', but she could care less one way or the other. Besides, she had no risk of dying from lung cancer, or any other sort of detrimental disease anymore from what she understood. This was either because she was far too sturdy or because she'd die way too soon for such things to take effect. Perhaps both, perhaps just because she'd probably die young. She doubted that the Garou looked to science to figure that one out, and she wasn't going to be the first to start.

So he relaxed, brushing snow from his pants, and Gwen picked her legs up, dug the heels of her boots into the edge of the seat so she was effectively curled up on the bench, knees in the air. Her arms wrapped about her legs, she leaned her shoulders back against the bench's back, and she mused quietly for a moment.

He called it 'school', she wasn't sure if he meant public education or 'school' in the sense of being taken under the wing of a mentor and learning to be Garou. She lapsed into memory for a second, grinned quietly to herself while dubbing learning from Fire Claws as being the School of Marble-Fisted Knocks, then glanced up to Ray as he lit and puffed at his cigarette.

"You strike me as the kinda guy for whom work and play go hand in hand." She seemed to be more thinking aloud than actually asking a question. A more conversation-provocative thought followed afterward. "So when do things even out? I know that people have to settle down and fall into a rhythm in order for, well, generations and homes and Caerns to all be established. Right now, though, everything feels like a whirlwind. I doubt my feet'll ever touch ground again. How long does it take to come back down to earth?"

Maybe asking a Kin was the wrong way to go, but at least he was more likely to answer with words rather than a heavy fist to the skull.

[Ray Ostermann] Ray didn't smoke like someone who needed to smoke, the long gentle way he fed the heater with his own breath and the way he seemed to savor the smell and taste before a long exhale tended to indicate more towards a man who did it because, like so many other cultivated taste's he enjoyed it.

He seemed to appraise the young woman, perhaps both for her comment on how he seemed to be, as well her question about garou, life, and everything. A light flicker of a smile crossed those lips of his as he looked briefly away into the evening air and let the smoke in his lungs drain away, in the opposite direction of Gwen before turning his eyes back to her and speaking.

"I'm not the best man to ask about that one. I didn't even know about the nation and all of my brothers and sisters till a little less then a year ago." He said with a contemplative look upon his face. "But once you get your feet wet, get your bearings in the new wide world you've entered. You'll find things will slow down. I believe for garou that means after your trials or first rites of the like." He considers that answer for a moment before shrugging. "On the other hand of course...for some life is a whirl wind."

He holds the cigarette's out to Gwen this time, a silent offer for her if she cared to have one before speaking once more. "I try to fit as much fun into my work as I can, fill in all those little nooks and closet space that work hasn't quite gotten to yet, it helps keep me sane and out of the bottle."

[Gwen Sullivan] She listened attentively while he spoke, something she almost always did with almost everyone she spoke with. This was how you learned, and if she could hear and remember everything spoken she could reference it later, she could take it to heart and to mind and fine tune the way that she was operating in this big, dark new world. Anything said by anyone could very easily turn into the stone that tipped the scales from her being 'some fucking Cub' to a fully fledged Cliath, capable and respected.

He offered the cigarette, and she shook her head, declining casually, thoughtlessly. Her fingers interlaced in front of her knees and she leaned forward some, letting her chin rest atop them as well, folding her incredibly average frame up tight in order to achieve this. It was a way that only a teenager, it seemed, could find comfort. When the average thirty-something observed a kid doing that their backs and hips ached with sympathy.

"No one's even really spoken to me of what the trials are. They're just this... big looming mountain on the horizon." She mused on that for a moment, nipped at her lower lip in a curious manner before ceasing when she remembered that the piercing that had been there for so long was now gone, removed some handful of weeks ago. Her eyes hopped sideways onto Ray's face again, and an eyebrow lifted, prompted upward by curiosity.

"So what do you fill the closets with?"

[Ray Ostermann] The cigarette case clicked soundly shut before being smoothly placed once more within the folds of his long coat and he smoothed out the location where the pocket most likely resided. His eyes lifted to the grey covered sky above them for a moment before he too became intent upon the young woman sitting next to him. So uncertain, so unprepared but at the same time so ready and eager to take on whatever was put before her, ambition was a beautiful thing.

He coughed on the smoke in his lungs when she asked what he filled his closets with, and when the smoke finally cleared he laughed finding that question that could be so naughty, so delicious yet spoken so frankly and so innocently that he found it hard to believe his ears. He quietened his laugh as he looked at her and shrugged gently. "I like to swim, I use the pool in my condo quite regularly. I also, like you enjoy reading." His free hand idly gesturing towards the book she had with her.

"I also enjoy going out and dancing with fine young woman and enjoying the fruits of my rather lengthy labors." It's then that his smile gets slightly more secretive but all at the same time inviting, it was a dangerous smile to use on women of any age, but it certainly didn't seem intentional. "Anything beyond that however, I think might be a little personal don't you?"

[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen, despite being a teenaged girl, just didn't seem the type to swoon or blush. She was frank, she was blunt, and she was (apparently) far too focused on the rough and rocky path from point Cub to point Cliath before her to realize that asking about the contents of someone's closet was just begging to be told about fuzzy handcuffs and/or half-deteriorated skeletons. He coughed, surprised by her responding to his metaphor for filling empty idle places in his life by calling them nooks and closet spaces in such a way, and stared at her before answering just as honestly. She wasn't being coy, she didn't quite seem capable of that.

He gestured toward her book while admitting to reading and swimming, and then smiled in a way that could potentially weaken knees when mentioning dancing with young women and enjoying 'fruits of his labor'. The last bit had her lifting both eyebrows, as though a little skeptical and a little taken aback both, and staring for a second before sucking in a deep breath through her nostrils, holding it for a second as though her breath had some fine scent or drug on it, then exhaled and unfolded as she did so, putting her boots back on the ground and leaning into the bench's back once again.

"I guess..." This is followed by her shaking her head once to the left and once to the right before holding it still again, though turned to regard the Kin. "Was just looking to see how everyone coped. What life looks like when you get out of the fast lane. But I guess the Kin and the Wolf run in different lanes, don't they? The Kin are like the pit crew, maybe."

[Ray Ostermann] It was Ray's turn to raise a brow at Gwen's words and his face took a turn for the speculative and curious as he inclined head towards her and spoke. "That really depends on the kin in question." He says slowly as if weighing his own words for truth. "We kin can come to an untimely and bloody end just as swiftly as you and the other trueborn's. In some case's it comes all the sooner, as unlike you, we don't have the natural abilities to survive all those injuries."

He gestured as he talked, his hands motioning towards himself, and then back to Gwen and to imagined things inbetween them. "I know I have been in numerous dangerous situations, and while the Garou present often saved the day, it could have easily gone horribly wrong. Of course, at the same time I'd like to see most Garou manage to close down and shutter a wyrm infested business without ever setting foot inside of it." He chuckled at his own words then, perhaps he found them amusing, or maybe it was the idea that he could do something that most garou could not?

But he waved a hand then as if to dismiss any possible agitation between garou and kin and smiled, genuinely smiled at the younger woman as if it were a fresh start to the whole conversation. "We all play our part's for the nation, and for Gaia, if that makes the majority of the kin in this world the 'pit crew' then thats the way it is, but like everything else, we don't all fit into that box. Just as not all of us have the same way's to cope with what's happening." He unfolded his leg then and stretched out his back as if to stand. "What matter's, is finding what helps you cope."

[Gwen Sullivan] Ray spoke of what he could do that Garou could not-- legitimately shut down a Wyrm-driven business in ways that wouldn't bring the police sniffing, in ways where they wouldn't merely crop up at a new location that hadn't been burnt and massacred to the ground. She thought back to what Cordelia had mentioned, about how she could be more useful if she wasn't pregnant (though Gwen had her doubts about that, everything Cordelia had mentioned Gwen was certain she could do just fine while carrying a baby, either in the belly or on the hip).

The 'pit crew' analogy was one that she would have to reconsider and work out. She sniffed a bit, against the cold, and touched the cuff of her coat sleeve to her nose against the stuffiness and occasional drip that staying out in the cold for too long brought on.

"It wasn't supposed to be insulting. It's just... really what I've been told. That the Kin are around to help us out and do the stuff we can't-- which is, from what I understand, pretty much every single thing outside the realm of spirits and blood."

What matters is figuring out what helps you cope, he tells her, and this has her frowning and thinking, drumming her fingers on her thigh as she thought aloud, pressed through thoughts and hesitations verbally, as though hearing them and having someone else hear and respond to them would help her figure them out. "I paint." It was as simple as that, that was her coping mechanism, her escape. But nothing is solved with something so easy... "But I don't know what comes next. I can't stay with my parents, it's too risky in every way imaginable. But I don't know how to support myself outside of that. I can barely do school and... this life... at the same time. How could I expect to work? Normal people get skiddish around me now, no one would hire me. I can't pull all nighters and go into a job. I can't keep going to school."

She was beginning to slide down a slope, he could tell. Going from talking to ranting. She caught herself by proverbially digging her heels into the dirt and stopping short. Her brow creased with a frown, and she leaned forward, lifting a hand to touch at the piercing in her upper lip lightly with the pad of her finger.

Finally, muttered past her fingers: "Sorry."

[Ray Ostermann] He did something bold then, and in some cases with certain garou, it could be something quite dangerous. But Ray was known for his gaul, and known for treating garou like equal's even if they saw him as less then equal. His arm slipped from behind the bench and came up and over to settle on Gwen's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Sorry is the last thing you have to be." He said with a warm smile upon his face, the intent even reaching those baby blue eyes. "All of it can be tough, I know in some ways, it's alot harder for the trueborn's then it is for the kin, and your right, in alot of jobs you really won't fit well because of how others feel around you. But what I can tell you...is that the nation will be there to help. If you need a place to stay, or a job that you can do without pestering the sheep, you'll be able to find it."

He let his arm fall from her then, giving her back her own personal space as he continued to meet her gaze, intent on this conversation. "One thing though...don't drop out of school. It might not seem necessary, but your wits and your smarts, will mean all the more when your chips are down." He says pointing to his own head. "Many people in your situation don't realize that."

[Gwen Sullivan] An arm swathed in the kind of cut and tailored cloth that was easily worth more than she made at her father's dealership in a month settled around her upper back, and Ray's hand found her shoulder through the rough canvas of her jacket and gave a squeeze. The Cub didn't revolt, didn't shake his arm off or snap at him for touching her. She simply accepted the gesture for what it was, rolled her shoulders up into the underside of his arm like she was shrugging on a coat or hiking a blanket up closer to her neck for warmth.

And that was all there was, truly. Some gestures of comfort can be just that simple an exchange, without any lingering or awkward airs left between. His arm fell away and she straightened up a bit, busying herself by unwinding and re-winding her wool scarf, tucking it below her chin and letting the ends lay forward across her chest rather than over her back as they had been before (that had been so they didn't flap onto the pages of her book while she tried to read). Eye contact was maintained for conversational (and, perhaps, intent-reading) purposes, and she shook her head some.

"Kora had suggested I do so, but with the way I've been going I'm on track to graduate early. I just need to finish out the semester and I'll be done. The rough part is breaking away from my folks and figuring out where to set up after that."

[Ray Ostermann] Ray watched as she played with her scarf, to him it was an obvious sign of uncertainty, or worry and apprehension, she was of still so young in so many ways. "Good to hear you won't be leaving your schooling behind you." He said with a nod. "Your doing more for the nation that way then any amount of killing ever would."

His cigarette at last reached the end of its life span and Ray flicked it off into the snow, the heater giving one last sizzling gasp as it died within. That done he turned back to her. "As to getting yourself setup..." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a business card. "If you ever need help getting a place, or any kind of financial aid, or well..anything at all. You can give me a call." He said holding the card out to her.

"Beyond that, the Brotherhood of Thieves is one place many people choose to live, and there are a number of other places you can go to as well. However.." He paused then as if trying to figure out what to say. "Seperating from your parent's is not something I can help with. I'm lucky, both my parent's are in on the secret."

[Gwen Sullivan] She looked at the card that he offered, and reached out to take it, observing the paper and the ink, sliding her thumb over the edge before leaning forward and sliding the card into the rear pocket of her jeans. "Thanks," she offered, even though he seemed like the kind of guy who would charge interest at an percentage that she could never hope to afford.

He said his parents were both in on the secret, and she shook her head and spoke aloud with a bit of a frown on her face. "I don't know how or why mine aren't. From what everyone tells me at least one of them should be Garou as well... but neither are. They aren't even Kin." As far as she or they knew, anyways. There's a moment, a thought occurs to her, and she's looking at Ray like she's mildly bewildered, or she's discovered something she missed before.

"You said that you weren't aware until a year ago... but your parents knew? They never told you?"

[Ray Ostermann] "By the way, anything for the nation is pro bono. In particular for anyone I like." He says with a slick smile before he turns his gaze downward, checking his watch for a moment before once again settling his eyes upon the cub.

"None of us knew until about a year ago actually. My grandmother kept us all in the dark that she was kin, it was only the research of some very capable kinsmen into the family histories that brought them too us and revealed that we were infact...kin." He tells the story with a hint of fondness, the whole ordeal had been earth shaking, but at the same time, it had opened up a brand new world for him to explore, and profit from.

"But your story, now that is quite impressive. Two regular human's giving birth to a trueborn? I certainly wouldn't have put odd's on that."

[Gwen Sullivan] Her head tipped one way, then the other, and with each tip of the head and corresponding stretch of the neck there was a deep and hollow 'crack' as a joint popped and the stiffness in the joint fled. She stretched her legs out so her knees locked and crossed her boots at the ankles, so her body went into a solitary line and she slouched appropriately on the bench to do so, bringing her rear right to the edge of the seat. She was a teenager in how none of her positions seemed to be straight-backed and proper, and a fresh young Garou in that she had problems remaining stationary, how the Rage was still raw in her blood and had her needing to move, to have some sort of motion or action. She would learn to mute it more effectively soon, certainly.

His story was heard and accepted with a nod. It made sense, sure enough, though she couldn't imagine why his grandmother would keep such a secret from her own family. His interest in her story was met with a lazy shrug and a shake of her head.

"I guess that one of them has to have at least a trace of heritage in them somewhere. They have to. I just don't know which one, and I don't think they know it, or that it's strong enough to manifest in them recognizing what's going on with the world. I'm just a snake eyes roll of genetics."

[Ray Ostermann] Ray listened to her speak very non-chalantly about her own existence almost as if she were talking about taking a stroll through a park that she did on a regular basis. It brought another chuckle to his lips as he watched her. She hadn't smiled once since they had sat down together, not a chuckle, not a giggle, not even a tiny grin. If anything, it made him really want o see one.

""Do you mind if I ask you how you feel about yourself?" He ask's casually. "You don't have to answer of course. But I'm curious, you say your a genetic roll of the dice, but do you see it as a good thing? Or a bad thing?"

He showed genuine interest there, his eyes no longer simply attentive, now directly curious about who she was and how she viewed herself. Maybe he was just playing a game, trying to cozy up to her, or maybe he was really interested, such things were up to her to decide.

[Gwen Sullivan] The question immediately felt like something of a trick, one of those things that you couldn't answer in a straightforward manner because you were damned if you did and damned if you didn't. She stared up at him, expression purely skeptical in the way that a budding young judge's is both known to be and what it ought to be. She wasn't passing judgment, but she was trying to figure him out-- motivations and underlying tones all together. After all, how is a Judge expected to do their job if they can only see the shallow, the surface, the words spoken and not what lies beneath?

But, eventually, she would answer, and it would be honest. It was a dangerous question to ask a teenaged girl, but she took it, turned it over studiously, and answered in the same way that air may leak gradually from a balloon, as though the thoughts were still forming even as she spoke them.

"I wouldn't call it good or bad. I wouldn't want to be ignorant like I used to be, but I don't like not knowing what comes next. I like this strength, it's like... it's heady. But at the same time I already miss my family and friends and I still see them every day."

There's a beat, then a resolute nod, and her tone of speech shifts to something more solid and sure. "About being born what I was... It is what it is, and I am what I am. That's about as deep as that thought needs to go, no point in contemplating it further, you know? As for how I actually feel about myself?" There's a faint bit of a grin, a ghosting thing that only visibly manifested in a curve at one corner of her mouth more strongly than the other. "Anything beyond that, however, I think might be a little personal. Don't you?"

[Ray Ostermann] Ray gave her a smile that was both satisfied and impressed, before the hint of mirth slipped into his eyes and he couldn't help but chuckle ever so slightly. "Touche Gwen, touche. Given this is our seconding meeting, and our only real conversation, I think we can leave it at that."

"Its just like life, even if you were not born with the gifts you have, you'd still have to face almost the exact same things, or so it would seem. Try not to think about it too much, I find that helps sometimes."

He smiled at her one more time and reached over patting her on the shoulder in camaraderie, before pushing himself up to stand before her and stretch out his form, fighting off the cold and the fatigue which had snuck into his bones and muscles. "You've got a good head on your shoulder's my dear. I really don't think you have all that much to worry about, not if you keep going the way you are."

[Gwen Sullivan] Another smile, another pat, and Ray was standing, stretching and turning to get the blood rolling appropriately through his veins again after having a sit and a chat with the young werewolf girl. She watched him stand, and smiled just a bit when he spoke to her while stretching out. It seemed that initial half-grin of hers had cracked the ice, everything to follow came a little easier, even if it was persistently faint, a ghosting, smoke-like thing on her face rather than a resolute expression.

"I appreciate that." It was about all that needed to be said to sum up her answer to his words. They were kind, reassuring, and she did, indeed, appreciate them. Appreciation was stronger than simple polite thanks, or so she believed. She reached onto her coat and drew out her book once more, re-zipped the jacket and snapped the buttons back into place. "I suppose I'll see you around sometime or another. Otherwise, I've got your number.

"You have a good night, Ray."

[Ray Ostermann] Ray turned back to Gwen for a moment, looking down at her with that appraising, but now appreciative look as he nodded to her words. "I hope you have a good night as well Gwen. I am certain we will see each other again, and hopefully in a situation which allows us to have another chat, rather then anything more..dangerous."

He smiles one more time and gives her the slightest of bows before straightening up. "It was a pleasure, as always." He then turns and heads towards the edge of the park, intent on going to find himself somewhere warmer, somewhere indoors, damn garou and their hot blood.