Failure to Communicate

[Tristan Hardt]

Too late. Too fucking late. He'd gotten the call - some concerned citizen nonsense. Young kid. Said he heard screaming in an alley. Tristan's dinner is getting cold on that little TV stand he loves so much. All for nothing.

The Sun's setting. There's just enough light to put together the obvious. A few random items... lipstick, library card, a broken pair of sunglasses. On a hunch, he checks the dumpster. Shit. Yep. The woman's purse. Some pink, faux-leather nonsense with nothing of value left inside. The purse's owner had probably high-tailed it out once she knew she wasn't getting her purse back.

Now sure, he could try to follow the scent left behind by the perp. But who has time to stalk after some random petty thief? He'd have leveled a gun right art the son-of-a-bitch if he'd gotten here sooner. But now? Cold case. He isn't about to 'go wolf' on this and spend the night searching for some punk kid. That's not how the system works.

Still. Fuck if it doesn't piss him off. Dinner's cold. Perp got away. And Tristan? Wasting his fucking time in an alleyway that smells like ripe garbage. Only thing that can make this night worse? Some other distraction to keep him from getting home. And microwaving his dinner. Again. He kicks the dumpster. Hard. The sound carries through the air as the Sun dips under the horizon, turning the alleyway a monochrome testament to his failure.

[Viola Jones]

This shit was rank. Viola couldn't understand why Hector preferred this over something closer to nature.

They'd both smell like shit. But, at least one would be easier on the eyes....and you didn't have to restore to dumpster diving for someone else's scraps.

Stalking across the street, the gravels escaping the alley rolls and crunches underfoot. She stops, because there's a telltale sound of frustration she knows all to well. Backtracks when she catches something fades, but present and probably coming from the alley. A whiff of something familiar and foreign.

"The fuck did that dumpster do to you?" comes Viola's ever flat voice as she pauses on her self appointed quest to try and find whatever corner Hector had claimed as his for the night and deal with whoever this idiot was.

Can't let some lose clog up Hector's streets.

[Tristan Hardt]

Great. Now what? Tristan turns his head to catch what looks like some punk kid. A girl with one of those no-fucks-given haircuts.

"Hey! This is a crime scene." he barks. Not... officially, but she doesn't have to know that. Smart mouthed little shit. "Find somewhere else to be." Not about to be cornered in an alleyway, he places his hand on his gun. Turns his body so she can see he's carrying. It's getting dark, but he's sure she can tell a gun when she sees one. All kids these days know a little too much. And she's what? 19?

Over the rank of the dumpster sitting so close, it's hard to tell anything. If she's a threat. If she was involved somehow. She might have just overheard him taking out his frustrations. Which, yes, was stupid. Probably scuffed the hell out of his shoe.

If this girl's out making trouble, she's picked the wrong night. Tristan's already missed one arrest. He can always make another. He waits for her to go along her merry way, not taking his eyes off her.

[Viola Jones]

A wolf-cop with a gun.

She...kinda wanted to coo.

Which. Fuck that. The flat line of her presses tighter as she crosses her arms.

"Sure. Yours." a total whatever in that flat voice.

Arms still crossed she doesn't take a step into the alley, the thought of the gun what yeah. Whatever. Bullets. Ptfff. But being penned in....fuck that.

"Was gonna. But I caught what's left of your stink from when you went in. Can't just walk away." deadpan, matter o'fact. Flat, dead, corpse eyes staring, waiting to see what his next move'll be.

[Tristan Hardt]

Yeah, she has a mouth on her. Tristan bristles, but he doesn't draw his gun. He's above that. Violence for violence's sake? That would bite him in the ass one way or another. But she hasn't backed down, either. Brave? Stupid? Both?

"Stink? Try smelling nice after 8 hours on the job. Better yet... try getting a job."

The hell does she think she is? And where the hell are her parents? Here she is, arms crossed, staring him down like she doesn't give a shit. About his gun. About his badge. And she's hurling insults!? She probably smells like patchouli and cheap weed. Just the thought of it makes him sniff, instinctively. Through the smell of the dumpster, a familiar scent trickles through. Looks like there's some life in Sac after all.

The gun isn't shit. That's why she's been so... unimpressed. So his hand strays from his gun. Hangs it on his belt instead.

"I won't go down easy, if that's why you're here. Not about to let some dumb pup back me into a corner." His lips tuck into a tight line. Eyes focused. Watching. She's staring back at him like he's less than what he is... and he means to make due on his promise.

[Viola Jones]

A brow arches. Fucker didn't get it.

"I have a...job."

Brow returns to it's pissed offneutral-natural setting.

She considers tapping a foot. Becau--ah. There is is. Fuckers using his fucking brain. Or at least his nose.

Had moves and aww. He's trying to be insulting and shit.

"You are in a corner." she oh so helpfully points out, eyeing the alley. "I'm a full moon sweetie." voice flat, turning the endearment into an insult. "If you're one of Them. I don't need anyone else to fuck you up."

[Tristan Hardt]

He could almost laugh. He settles for puffing a little air through his nose and shaking his head.

​"What's that? Barista? Pan-handling? No... let me guess: turning trick." How is someone so young so bold?

"That explains the brains. The lack of honor. Cute." The Elodoth's nose wrinkles up on one side. "So you just get to call strangers out on being, what? The Pure? Then slake your thirst on wolf-blood for no fucking reason?"

So this is what it's come to. Cornered - yes - by a self-righteous Rahu who could easily be his miscreant daughter. If... he'd ever had one. That'd just be the way. She's as much of an asshole as he is. And, if she isn't bluffing, she probably could take him.

[Viola Jones]

"No, no and no." she says, bored. "Cute guesses though."

A scoffing snort leaves her lips. She might not have an honor brand, but that didn't mean she didn't have any. "If I was without honor, I'da tried to gut ya already. But here I am. Talkin'. 'Establishing a dialogue' etcetera." and yes, she uncrosses her arms to add the air quotes.

"There's plenty of fucking reason. How many scent trails have you found? Markers? Us?" she asks but doesn't leave him room to answer. She already knows the answer. "Got here. Found out the People were dead and gone. The Pure? The same. So. Are you one of Them. Or not." she cocks a hip, and glares.

[Tristan Hardt]

This little girl is infuriating. Tristan spits on the ground.

The next bit, though... it makes sense. He'll give her that. He doesn't gratify her with anything more than "Right."

He'd wondered about that: big city, small presence. Like some culling had happened. Or a terrible Wound had unleashed horrors the previous 'residents' had been unable to control. God knows he's caught whiffs of strange things that have pressed him to search the Shadow. In, what? A couple weeks? City really has gone to shit.

"God..." he rubs the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. He finally rocks his head back and sighs. "Let's go with 'not'. Maybe I got a promotion, right? Left the comfort of good ol' Elk Grove for the 'big city life'. Hometown's been quiet. And... since I'm not ready to retire yet, I thought I'd go looking for problems. To fix."

Leaving out the comment on how she's a problem, herself, Tristan ventures closer. If they're going to carry on like this, they might as well do it without raising their voices.

"You alone, here? Or you actually manage to make some friends?"

[Viola Jones]

...and he's every bit as monosyllabic as she is.

Viola didn't know if that would turn out to be a good thing, or not.

Right now. There were strong feelings towards the not.

"That's a whole lotta maybes buddy." Comes her flat voice as he steps closer. She declines to move. "Yeah. I got friends. Pack." when he stops moving again, her voice quieter then it had been, but no less then what it was. "So. You see why I need know? Not gonna let you go so you could fuck with them. So. Buddy." she points a finger to herself. "Full moon. Meninna." then she jabs her finger in his direction, and arches her brow.