DATE:  Saturday, June 6, 1998
Place: Silverton Apartments, Apt. #101

---- Recall start ----

Phone conversation:

Murphy gets called back about 5 minutes later. *ring*

Murphy here.

JJ Malone sounds somewhat gruff as he speaks. "Malone. You paged me?"

Yes, I need to speak with you. It's urgent."

JJ Malone sounds a little less gruff and a little more attentive, and there's
   the sound of movement in the background. "How urgent," he asks with a hint
   of demand, and more movement. "What's it about?"

Murphy sounds tense, as if he was struggling to hold something in. "It's
   about me, it's about you, it's about Chicago, Malone. It's about the past
   and how it affects the future. Does that sound urgent enough?"

JJ Malone's own sound of urgency fades somewhat, and he mutters. "Sounds like
   singer mumbo-jumbo to me. But, fine. Do you have somewhere you want to
   meet?"

Someplace private. Your place or mine, you choose.

JJ Malone answers without pause. "Mine then. You remember how to get here?"

"Yeah, I think I can manage that well enough. Expect me." And with that
   Murphy hangs up.

**** Some time later

When Murphy enters he is in an obvious state of agitation. He looks more 
   disheveled than usual and the stink of cigarettes clings to him. He looks 
   like there is something that he wants to say, but doen't know where to 
   begin.
The Galliard's "stink" of burnt tobacco matches that of the apartment except 
   perhaps in brand, so he camoflouges well. J.J. is smoking when John 
   arrives, dressed in a plain white t-shirt, blue jeans, and a pair of 
   well-worked combat boots. His left hand is hidden behind the door until 
   after Murphy comes in, and when the ahroun closes the door, a drawn gun 
   becomes visible as J.J. sticks it into the waistband of his jeans. "Have a 
   seat," the ahroun says gruffly, moving a stack of newspaper from one of the 
   dining room chairs and then finding a piece of wall to support himself.
Murphy seems to almost to expect the gun and does nothing to react to it. He 
   also does not move to sit, but rather begins pacing back and forth across 
   the livingroom. "So, you're from Chicago, Malone? Interesting. Do you know 
   who else lives in Chicago? Yes, I imagine you do. I imagine you know a lot 
   about Chicago. Funny how you don't bother to mention any of it to me when I 
   mention living there. But it is funny how much other things don't get 
   mentioned in the course of a person's life. Secrets and plans about what 
   that person should do and where. I find that funny Malone, you find that 
   funny?" The Galliard is one step short of raving. He does not look at the 
   Ahroun during any of this.
JJ Malone's arms are crossed "casually" across his board-like chest, but at 
   the same time he looks anything but casual. Instead, he looks poised as the 
   Galliard begins his rant. He jerks his chin in a small diagonal, looking 
   straight at John, his voice cuttingly harsh. "It wasn't any of your 
   business at the time, singer." The title itself holds a hint of scorn in 
   his mouth.
At the mention of the word singer, Murphy's eyes jerk up to meet the elder's. 
   JJ can see a fire burning in them. There is the smallest hint of a 
   challenge in them. "Seems like a lot of people go to a lot of trouble 
   deciding ahead of time what my business should and should be. I shouldn't 
   be too surprised to add your name to that list. It's quite a list Shades. 
   My whole family is on that list. The elders in Louisville are on that list. 
   Mighty select company. You should be proud." He does not drop his gaze.
The attempt at goading J.J. doesn't work, except to elicit a very small smile 
   of malicious pleasure, before the ahroun jerks his chin again. "Sounds like 
   you have issues with your family," and the lower case is audible, "then." 
   He grunts, and inhales from his cigarette. "What's so urgent that you had 
   to drag me out of bed for?"
Something subtle seems to shift in Murphy. He no longer appears angry, so much 
   as coldly calculating. "No, things with the family have been worked out. We 
   managed to come to an understanding." A sickly smile comes over his face. 
   "But me and you, we need to talk business. I would like for us to come to 
   our own understanding. Mutually beneficial, of course."
JJ Malone's expression shifts, unwittingly becoming an almost identical mask 
   to Murphy's expression, minus the smile, and made more alien by the 
   presence of the mirror-shaded sunglasses. "Talk, then," he says with subtle 
   sneer. "That's what you Galliards are good at."
Murphy says "That's right. That is what we are good at. Myself, I am 
   particularly good at it. But of course, like most Ahroun, you are too 
   short-sighted to recognize the benefits of what a Galliard can accomplish 
   with just talking." He pauses a moment for emphasis, and it almost seems 
   like he is actually enjoying himself. "I guess you could say I found out 
   that I don't like the hand that was dealt to me. I can either complain and 
   try to play it, I can get a re-deal, or I can find another game. So the 
   question is, are you willing to deal a new hand, or do I try and entertain 
   other offers?"
Anger rises at the gibe to J.J.'s auspice, and he uncoils himself from the 
   wall. "*What* other offers," J.J. demands, rising rage overlaid by 
   steel-bands of control in his so-far normal volume tone.
Murphy's own anger rises back up in him. He doesn't seem to be challenging the 
   Elder but he doesn't seem eager to back down either. But there also seems 
   to be a slight satisfaction that he has finally gotten an emotional 
   reaction out of her. "None yet, but as long as they were willing to give me 
   what I am asking for I might consider just about anything. Are you willing 
   to hear what I am asking for or does this develop into something we just 
   might regret?"
"Don't threaten me," J.J. snaps. "Who else do you exactly think you're going 
   to deal with? You going to leave the Family? Leave the city? Or are you 
   talking about going over to the Wyrm?"
"I haven't done anything, yet," John retorts. "I would prefer dealing with 
   you, given the opportunity. And this isn't about the Wyrm at all. This is 
   about me and my place in the Garou. You willing to listen? You can always 
   say no."
"Answer my question, first," J.J. demands again, in control but anger blazing. 
   The non-verbals he exudes in the shifts of weight and posture bely how 
   fragile that control is right now; he seems just shy of turning verbal 
   sparring into physical.
Murphy says "Fine, we can do it that way. I have /no/ intention of turning to 
   the other side. Completely the opposite, in fact. But if you can't agree to 
   what I want, then I am sure that one of the other tribes would see the 
   value of my gifts and abilities. And if your position is too strong here, 
   then I guess I would have to relocate." At this point, Malone can tell that 
   Murphy's arms are crossed across his chest, but that his hands could be 
   under his jacket in a split second. He appears ready to respond rather than 
   instigate. "I would hope it never comes to that."
JJ Malone's mouth thins with pure distaste. "What exactly is it you want, Mr. 
   Murphy," he asks with icy formality.
A thin, bitter laugh escapes from John's lips. "I want a chance to determine 
   something. I want to make you an offer Malone. First off, I want in on the 
   action. I want a spot. You may already have a right hand man, I don't know. 
   But I want to be one of your lieutenants. Second, I want some respect. Yes, 
   I'm a Galliard. But we are more than just 'singers' to be mocked. Or at 
   least I am. I can play roles that you haven't even seen yet. I can be 
   whatever you need me to be, depending on the situation. That is very useful 
   in what we do. Beyond that, I grew up in the Family. I know what that means 
   and what it involves. And I may not be an Ahroun, but I know how to handle 
   myself. I grew up with a gun in my hands. You want to belittle any other 
   Galliards, go ahead. But not me. You treat me with the same professional 
   respect that you give Nigel. That's what I want. Do you want to hear what 
   you'll get?
If it's possible, JJ's expression becomes even colder, but he manages to keep 
   his anger in enough so that his shallow nod looks almost normal. "Go on," 
   he says, just those two words expressing predatory wariness.
Murphy nods and swallows. He smiles a slight smile. "You get me. Body and 
   soul. I'm your man. You need something fetched, I fetch. You need something 
   dealt with, I deal with it. I take orders, and cheerfully and eagerly. 
   Plus, I'm your eyes and ears on the street. Anything, and I mean anything, 
   I hear, you hear it too. I know we follow fog, but there are no secrets 
   from me to you. I put all my talents and abilities to work for you and you 
   alone. Everything I had going on on my time gets stopped unless you approve 
   it. I become the living proctor of your will." He stops to observe the 
   impact of his offer.
JJ Malone studies Murphy from head to foot and back again, then snorts like 
   ripping fabric. "You a metis or something?"
Murphy looks slightly surprised at this response. "No, why?" is his only 
   response.
JJ Malone's voice is a conflict of prickly pride and derisive anger, not all 
   of it directed at Murphy. "Because only a mule would prostitute himself 
   like that to another Garou. I don't want you like that. I don't *need* you 
   like that."
Murphy exhales and almost seems to deflate. His arms come away from his chest 
   to hang at his sides. His eyes flick away from the Ahroun and then back 
   again. "Then what do you need me to do that is going to get me what I 
   want?" He straightens up and the pride flashes in his eyes again. "You know 
   what I want, what *do* you need out of me to get it?"
JJ Malone still seems angry, but not nearly as much as he was, the look of 
   distaste, however, lingering. "You can't get what you want. Not how you 
   want it," he says flatly, but goes on so that Murphy can't interrupt. "You 
   keep your nose out of *my* business, for starters. Stick it wherever else 
   you want, and your bloody tongue, too, but keep them both off of me. 
   Second, you want the same kind of respect as Nigel? Fine. Earn it. If 
   you're any kind of Family member, you will, but you also know damn well 
   it's not given for free or because you *want* it," he finishes with a touch 
   more anger and an undertone of subtle scorn.
Murphy nods. "Fine, as long as everyone understands that the opportunity is 
   there. You give me a chance, and you can be sure that I will take advantage 
   of it." His expression is grim and determined. "Just so you know, I got the 
   blueprints and Lisa and I did a couple of once overs on the place. We'll 
   give you a full report at the planning session." There is a strangely 
   satisfied look on his face. Without another word, he turns and walks out 
   the door.

---- Recall end ----