DATE:  Tueday, February 11, 1997
Place:  Fallout Shelter #5


---- Recall start ----

Fallout Shelter #5(#3794RAh$)
The room is not very large, but its starkness makes it seem larger. A single 
   incandescent light bulb shines on the rough grey concrete walls, and a sky 
   blue woven rug covers the white concrete of the floor. A metal-framed 
   bunkbed curls up almost comfortably in one corner, both mattresses draped 
   with GI wool blankets. Across the walls are a few dusty pinup posters and 
   several metal traffic signs, including a square green one that points the 
   way to Shea Stadium. Near a _One Way_ sign is a full length mirror with a 
   comb stuck on top of it. On the wall next to the door is a long shelf, 
   lined with cans of food and old MREs.
Near the bunk bed is a metal hatch set in the floor, and a door in one wall 
   leads out of the room.
Contents:
Holden
Vincent
Dillan

JJ Malone lounges against one of the walls, smoking a cigarette quietly and 
   checking her watch frequently as she waits for people to show up.
Vincent places the CD player on top of the hatch, with the sound track to 
   Evita playing.
Brittany pages: How in the hey do I get there?
Couple minutes later, there's a customary 'shave-and-a-haircut' knock on the 
   outer door, the one that leads to the stairs and alleyway above. Being a 
   metal door, it's more of a thumping than a knocking.
Dillan pops up outta the sewers, nose wrinkled. He latches the hatch behind 
   himself, standing. "Thanks for letting me check the sewers out." Dillan, 
   sacrastic? Neeeever. "Looks clean. Well, it ain't clean, 'cause it's a 
   sewer, but y'know."
Vincent sighs and resets the CD player, then gets the door, with JJ backing 
   him up.
Brittany raps softly on the entrance, quite unsure of her location.
It's just Holden there on the other side of the door, hands up in a "don't 
   shoot" manner. "Easy, Kemosabe."
Vincent sees Holden, and Brittany behind, and lets both in.
JJ Malone relaxes her stance, although she continues to keep the gun up and at 
   ready as people start arriving.
Holden moves on into the room of sorts, to find some relatively clean wall to 
   lean up again. "Nice shithole," he comments, vaguely.
Pete Barlow mutters, "Yeah, it is kinda nice, ain't it. So who the fuck are 
   you?"
Pete Barlow has been down in the sewers, it seems, just now pulling himself up 
   through the hatch in the floor.
Brittany rubs one gloved finger on the doorway as she enters, brushing it off 
   quickly with a frown. "Is such a location truly needed for this?"
Vincent scans each arrival in turn, closely. Signs of fatigue show on him, as 
   he fights off the background sensations. His sidearms are plainly visible, 
   as is a shotgun near his place, and the CD player set to drown out 
   eavesdropping.
Dillan chuckles at Holden. "Way to get off on the right foot, gee." He tramps 
   over to the bunkbed, jumping up to the top level.
Elan comes in hefting a huge keg of beer, following the other members of 
   Cavall.
Jimmy Wilson enters with Hank and Elan closeby, carrying a keg. Sparrow is 
   nearby as well. "Yo," he whines out in his standard greeting.
Holden flashes Dillan a grin. "Hey, I said nice, Sewer Boy. No offense to any 
   Gnawers who might live here, of course." Unlike Vincent he seems wide 
   awake, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he stands and waits 
   for things to start.
Brittany, wincing at Pete's entrance, finally recovers enough to greet the 
   Gnawer Elder. "Mr Barlow."
Pete Barlow gives a nod to Brittany as he moves over to one side of the 
   shelter, giving a look around the room to see who has gathered.
Elan nods at Pete. "Hey, man, good seeing you again."
Vincent retreats towards the place he has set the shotgun. This is clearly 
   meant to be a business meeting.
Brittany drifts halfway towards Pete to share a few private words, then 
   recoils from the odious aroma. She makes a short "We'll talk later" gesture 
   and slides back to the opposite side of the bunker.
Dillan turns, adjusting himself on the bunk. He dangles his feet down, leaning 
   forward in place. With a nudge of a foot, he tries to grab Vincent's 
   attention.
Vincent looks at Dillan.
JJ Malone, too, has a gun out, snarling faintly. "Keg stays out. What the hell 
   did you tell them this was, Pete?"
Jimmy Wilson reaches into a pocket, pulling out something wrapped in napkins. 
   He frowns at JJ, shrugging, then tosses the little package to Pete. "Think 
   fast, man!"
Sparrow smiles around at people, familiar and unfamiliar. She stays near Jimmy.
Pete Barlow lets the little package cradle against his stomach, opening it and 
   smiling--a couple slices of Garcia's pizza. The smile though goes straight 
   as he looks over at Sparrow and Jimmy. "Come here, Jim."
Jimmy Wilson wanders over. "Yeah?" he whines quietly at the old Gnawer.
Dillan leans down, mumbling something to his packmate.
Hank looks around for a place to settle, then glances over at Pete and Jimmy.
Vincent says "I think we should find out, the usual way. Introductions."
Elan sets the keg down and looks around at the others, most of whom are 
   unknown to him.
Pete Barlow looks past Jimmy at Elan. "Hey, nice work, Elan. Keep that baby 
   'til later." The big fellow pulls Jimmy close and off to one side, talking 
   to him in close, whispering with a glance over at Sparrow.
Brittany drifts over to Jimmy, whispering something to him once, then flashing 
   a smile. She then moves to Sparrow, a comforting hand on the girl's 
   shoulder.
Jimmy Wilson frowns at Pete, then whispers something back to him, his tone 
   intent.
Pete Barlow frowns at Jimmy and shakes his head, whispering again but with 
   more energy.
Hank watches Pete and Jimmy, eyebrow going up slightly.
Vincent coughs, and looks for some measure of readiness.
Pete Barlow shrugs and shakes his head at Jimmy, looking out towards the 
   others.
JJ Malone mutters, "C'mon, Vince, let's start this puppy."
Vincent says "Okay. I don't know you all. Anyone think they've come to the 
   wrong place?"
Elan sits on the keg and watches the interplay around him. He's especially 
   curious about the various guns.
Vincent says "My name is Pays What Is Owed. From here on, we should use names 
   that tend to mislead pursuers. We may be being pursued."
JJ Malone sniffs loudly. "No, assume we are," she pipes up, then subsides. She 
   eyes the various Gnawers, then says, "Just call me Jaws."
Vincent looks pointedly at each person present in turn to give a name. He 
   looks impatient.
Holden is busy mentally dividing those here into two groups, judging by social 
   class primarily. "Skips-Stones works," he says, enough of an introduction 
   as anyone else made.
Jimmy Wilson frowns but nods at Pete, taking the hushed words very seriously. 
   He moves back over to his pack and Sparrow. "I'm Shakes. That's enough 
   intro for now." He eyeballs the newcomers and strangers in the room.
Hank shrugs. "White-Eye works for me."
Dillan looks at little confused at the procedure so far. He shrugs 
   nonetheless, sorta getting into the hang things. "Y'all can call me MC 
   Big-Money D."
"Call me Steamroller for now," chuckles Barlow darkly from where he stands.
Brittany says, easily, "Miss White will suffice for me, this eve."
Sparrow hangs back with Hank, looking uncomfortable, though she smiles 
   gratefully at Brittany. Not meeting anyone's eyes in particular, she 
   murmurs, "Sparrow."

Sparrow's desc:
This stunning creature looks to be in her late teens. Her beautiful dark brown 
   eyes are the first thing you notice, accentuated as they are by dark 
   eyeliner and fashionable shadow. Her thick, glossy dair hair falls in a 
   ragged bob to just above her shoulders. Her lips are darkly lined, 
   contrasting with her just-lighter-than-mocha skin. A simple earring and 
   attached earcuff adorn her left ear. She is of average height, gracefully 
   lean and willowy.
She is wearing black crushed-velvet leggings and a black mini dress with a 
   scoop neckline. The dress barely conceals the burgeoning swelling of her 
   lower abdomen, which in contrast to her almost unhealthily slender frame, 
   is suggestive of her pregnancy, rather than fat, although it is only a 
   little bulge and easily overlooked. She's got a leather biker cap on her 
   head, brim backwards. Her voice is pleasant and smooth, the kind of voice 
   that one can listen to for hours without getting bored.

Vincent does a quick head count. "Anyone here not know and can vouch for at 
   least two others?"
Holden's head swings toward Dillan at the intro, and gives the kid a quietly 
   amused smirk.
Pete Barlow looks over at Vincent. "What?"
Jimmy Wilson nudges Elan. "Speak up, packie."
Brittany says "He wishes to be assured of identities, I would wager, as well 
   as know that we are who we say we are."
Vincent sighs. "Everyone here look around. See anyone you don't know? Point to 
   them." He points at Holden, "like this."
Elan ahems, a little intimidated. "Rainsong."
Pete Barlow smiles and looks over at Holden, pointing a thumb from where his 
   hand is tucked into a jacket pocket.
Holden picks two people at random -- Brittany, and Pete -- and points one 
   finger at each. "Ran out of hands. I just hit town less than a week ago."
Dillan holds up a pair of hands, fingers extended like pistols, gangsta-style. 
   Said pistols aim at Elan and Sparrow. "Uniditifieds at four o'clock, 
   captain."
Jimmy Wilson points at Holden as well.
Elan points to all the people he didn't come in with, with the exception of 
   Pete.
Holden folds his arms across his chest, one leg bent so his foot's resting up 
   against the wall he's leaning against. "Well this is useful," he says, 
   under his breath.
Vincent says "Well, you're all pointing way too few fingers. Assume you don't 
   know anyone here, because for now, a lot of people you maybe think you 
   know... they might have changed. Anyone you think should be here, but 
   isn't?"
Brittany sets her briefcase down, settling into a more relaxed stance. ome 
   times, her hand strays to her necklace, but, overall, she seems quite able 
   to stand stockstill for long stretches.
JJ Malone, too, points out Elan and Sparrow, but then towards both exits of 
   the shelter. "Kosh and Thena. Got news about them, but that'll keep til 
   things actually get started."
Hank mmms. "Kosh...and Thena."
Dillan fidgets. He ain't no Brittany.
Jimmy Wilson shrugs at Vincent. "Hazzie an' Kosh an' Thena, but they must be 
   outta town 'er something. I can't find any of 'em."
"Hazmat," mutters Barlow quietly. "And Mosh, Becca, and Matt." The final three 
   are muttered sotto voce, only those close to him able to hear the names.
Brittany says "I can think of a few names, best left in silence for now."
Vincent says "Windrunner? Nicknames will do."
Vincent says "If they aren't here, they might have fled. They might be too 
   lazy. They might be dead. They might have turned. We can be certain the 
   last two possibilities could happen to any of us, if we aren't careful."
Brittany's intrest is certainly raised by that.
Elan shivers a bit.
Holden's foot keeps tap-tap-tapping against the wall. "So is this sudden 
   urgency precipitated by something? Or am I just jumping ahead in the 
   minutes?"
JJ Malone begins to subtly glare at Vincent, beginning to shift restlessly in 
   her casual-looking lean against one of the walls.
Vincent says "We have word of at least three Dancers loose. Many of our former 
   friends are acting... unfriendly. A cub is dead. Does anyone know anything 
   about this, or that might relate? Shades?"
Jimmy Wilson keeps quiet. He's starting to get good at that. He simply listens 
   for now, obviously curious.
JJ Malone shrugs shoulders sharply and stiffly. "Merin and I went looking for 
   Speaks-like-a-Vorlon and the ragabash when they didn't return the calls. 
   Places don't look like they've been lived in for a few weeks, and the 
   ragabash hasn't been into work for a couple weeks. Coupled with what Chugs 
   said about Hazmat..." she trails off. "Something's up. You told 'em, Chugs?"
Hank frowns, listening.
Jimmy Wilson looks quickly to Pete. "What's up with Hazzie?" he says, his 
   voice cracking.
Sparrow frowns worriedly, hearing about her friends.
Brittany adds, "I might have some information, out of date as it is."
Vincent says "Information is welcome, Miss White. Urgently needful, in fact."
Pete Barlow shakes his head, looking over at Shades. He then looks back at the 
   Gnawers. "Hazmat might've got snatched by these Dancers. You remember that 
   big half-wolf, half-akita bitch that was markin' my territory and killin' 
   my alley dogs?"
Hank bites his lip at that, the frown turning into a grimace.
Brittany nods, setting her case down on the table as time permits, opening it 
   to leaf through some items. She removes one thin folder, setting it on the 
   table. "Something an older Warder and Alpha have kept most quiet, for fear 
   of panicing the Sept. I hope that this... person... is not still active, 
   but it should be considered."
Vincent plucks up the folder, and peruses it impassively.
Pete Barlow looks over at Brittany, now curious. He doesn't answer his own 
   question, waiting for her to continue it seems.
Holden listens, most of the names unfamiliar to him, though he can make a good 
   guess as to who the Vorlon refers to just from rumor. Watching Brittany 
   now, he digs a pack of chicklets out of his pocket and shakes a few into 
   his hand.
Jimmy Wilson frowns, shaking his head. "That's bullshit, Chugs. Hazzie ain't 
   one a' them. Hazzie was... well, not like that." He shuts up again, lost in 
   thought for the moment.
Elan looks over at the folder. "We got pictures?"
JJ Malone's jaw works. "So, what is it, Vince?"
Vincent snaps the folder shut almost immediately. He hands it to Malone. "It's 
   worth keeping closed, for now.
Brittany's folder, for those that look, contains photos of the Garou known as 
   Isis, the very same ones used to falsely accuse her of burning two children 
   alive at a gas station. "There was, at one point in time, a being we called 
   the Face-Stealer. It could take on another's shape, sound, and mannerisms. 
   We think it was a servant of the Red Man, but were never able to know more. 
   This is the only picture of this creature. Man, woman, we know not. It may 
   still be loose, it may have died soon after the Red Man did."
Holden tilts his head up toward the ceiling. "This much trouble with code 
   names, good thing we don't have a secret handshake," he says, mostly under 
   his breath.
Elan frowns.
Hank mutters under his breath.
Dillan lifts a brow curiously, trying as best he can to catch a look at what's 
   in the folder, reading over the man's shoulder. He shrugs cluelessly, 
   waiting and listening for now.
Brittany says "I can have copies made and shared, for what that would be 
   worth. I also have a list of persons she may or may not know are... of our 
   circle.""
A thin shudder runs through Barlow as Brittany mentions the name "Red Man" and 
   he looks away, catching sight of Holden and his chiclets. Holding on to 
   that distraction like a lifepreserver, Barlow holds out his hand toward the 
   unfamiliar Walker.
Vincent says "That's all the news and information we have?" *sigh* "Very well. 
   Here's the recommendations. One, get the vulnerable to safety. I'm not 
   saying where safety might be, but we can't risk the young or defenseless. 
   Period. Comments?""
Jimmy Wilson shakes his head at Vincent, then looks to Sparrow. "Makes sense 
   ta me."
JJ Malone scans it after Vincent does, dark eyebrows going up a little in 
   thoughtfulness, but then hands the folder back to Brittany. "Yeah," she 
   says to Vincent's question. "Be careful not to make it obvious we're on to 
   them at the same time."
Holden stops mid-motion of shoving the small box back into his front pocket, 
   and instead tosses them in an underhanded arc toward Barlow. Now that 
   they're in a Gnawer's hand he isn't figuring much on getting them back.
Brittany nods. "Agreed. I also strongly suggest the adage of safety in 
   numbers, not only for your protection but ours. Be sure to contact one 
   another foten, so that, should someone be... displaced... we will know, 
   quickly."
Sparrow smiles at Jimmy, bringing one hand up to caress her swelling tummy. 
   She keeps quiet, still nervous amongst all the strangers.
Hank nods. "What to do about Haz, and the others - Kosh, Thena?"
Vincent says "Two, assume you're being watched, trust no one, move from where 
   you are to someplace more secret or safer, if you can.""
Hank nods, listening to Vincent.
Pete Barlow catches the box and shakes a couple of the chiclets out onto his 
   thick hand. After popping the gum into his mouth, he tosses them back to 
   the Walker and says to Hank's question, "We need to be sure they ain't been 
   twisted. Assume they have til you know better though. Haz was hanging with 
   that half-akita bitch."
Vincent says "Three, do _nothing_ about anyone. Observe. Stay safely out of 
   their way, do as JJ says. And report."
JJ Malone's jaw tightens a little at the lack of order to the meeting, giving 
   Vincent a meaningful glance as she pushes herself off the wall more towards 
   the center of the room.
Jimmy Wilson takes a deep breath and sighs annoyingly.
Hank mmms, frowning, but nods to Pete.
Vincent steps back, yielding the floor. He withdraws an item from his pocket. 
   It looks high tech. An electrical meter?
Hank nods to Elan.
Pete Barlow gives a nod to Hank in return. "Let's just hope it ain't happened. 
   But that's why we need to /not/ be hanging in the normal places. At least 
   not alone. Specially our digs. They might've gotten Bill... in the Rat's 
   den, for pity's sake."
Hank frowns, and nods, looking to Jimmy. "We do that switch....tonight?"
Elan nods at Jimmy hopefully.
Vincent moves around the room, watchful of JJ's points, but looking at the 
   needle on the strange device as he moves it over first one then another of 
   the Garou present, frowning from time to time as he twiddles the dials.
Jimmy Wilson nods at his packmates and whispers to Sparrow. He has never 
   looked more serious in his life, or at least in the time that any of the 
   assembled Garou have known the raggie.
Brittany glances to Pete, asking, "How assured of you of the side of your 
   Unseen Ally? Will he stand with us, against us, or stand to the side and 
   observe?"
JJ Malone runs a hand through her short cropped hair, throwing Pete a Look and 
   everyone else, her manner faintly irritable, more than somewhat 
   intimidating. "Let's cut the meandering around the garden and get to the 
   chase. Words come down from the Alpha that we have at least three, maybe 
   more Dancers in the city. *Bet* on more. At least some of them are tied 
   into the murders we were ordered to look into. With Wharf Rats gone, its 
   just us, but it affects all of us. New orders are we have to try to track 
   down all of them. This meeting's to warn you all, share info, but also to 
   warn you off going after them. Avoid them at all cost."
"Unseen Ally?" wonders Barlow, but his words are cut off by JJ's words, rather 
   than her look.
Sparrow's brow crinkles with even more worry as Jimmy whispers to her. She 
   nods, brown eyes wide and fearful.
Dillan goes to nudge Vinnie, but the Walker steps away. He's about to follow 
   up with a nudge to JJ, but she launches into her tirade. Thankfully for 
   him, Pete asks what he was gonna anyways.
JJ Malone continues on somewhat bluntly. "Our goal is pretty clear, and at 
   this point, logistics doesn't mean shit. We can work all that out later. 
   Stick to the facts, for now. If you have it, say it."
Holden waves a finger a little toward JJ, just enough of a motion to call 
   attention to the movement. Unlike the others, he seems to have some 
   expectation of needing to be called on before adding any real input.
Brittany says "If the need grows great, I can ask the Vampires for aid. Our 
   Pact has not yet been re-formalized. both sides have much to offer and 
   lose. I do not think they would refuse us sanctuary, but do not count on 
   anything more than that. Indeed, they might have to be considered hostile. 
   I will know, soon enough."
Vincent looks startled.
Dillan blinks. "With the wha?"
Sparrow's jaw drops at Brittany's words. "V-vampires?" She turns pale, and 
   sits down heavily.
Pete Barlow glances over at Brittany and smiles. "Why Lady Brit, I didin't 
   know..." Barlow chuckles darkly and looks back toward JJ.
JJ Malone is about to recognize Holden as Brittany speaks up, and she gives 
   the Silver Fang an tightly controlled, angry glare. "No," she spits out 
   flatly, obviously adamantly opposed to the idea. "Holden," she then says 
   sharply, obviously calling on the Glass Walker as she also edges back, 
   ceding the floor.
Brittany nods to Pete. "I try to keep such things quiet. I take no pride in it 
   but someone has to see it done."
Elan stiffens sharply and set his jaw.
Vincent moves towards Brittany, double-checking her with the apparatus.
Holden for a second forgets what the hell it was he wanted to bring up, now 
   that Brittany's gone and distracted him. "Hold that thought," he tells the 
   Silver Fang, and then on to JJ. "You ever thought about automating this 
   monitoring of friendlies process?"
Jimmy Wilson puts an arm tightly around Sparrow's shoulders, trying to comfort 
   her at least a little. He remains quiet, eyeballing Brittany with a 
   strange, contemplative look.
Pete Barlow gives a nod to Brittany. "Gotta keep the 'hood safe for the kids 
   to grow up in, you know what I mean." The Gnawer ahroun looks over at 
   Holden and then looks over at Hank. "You got any idea what the Walks is 
   talking about?" The question is a bit hushed, focused at Hank or the other 
   Gnawers.
JJ Malone's eyebrows go up, still angry, but with slight surprise now. "I 
   personally haven't, no."
Hank shakes his head at Pete.
Holden rattles off the beginning outlines of a plan. "Just something I was 
   thinking on my way over, see. Get a 800 number beeper and have it forward 
   to an email account on a box somewhere. Everyone gets a 10-digit code 
   number, and they call it in every twenty-four hours. Beeper hits email, run 
   it through a procmail filter, sort it out and keep the latest timestamps 
   for each code. You could set a cron job up to sweet through every hour, and 
   look for people more than eight hours late in checking in."
Brittany adds, "There are a small number of Glades available, should hiding be 
   needed. There are also spots to avoid at all costs. If we do have an... 
   infestation of vermin... no offense to my colleagues... hey will most 
   likely be at one of those locations."
Elan eyes glaze over a bit at Holden's ramble.
There's knocking at the door.
Pete Barlow shakes his head as he hears the mess of jargon tossed out by 
   Holden. "What in the fuck are you talking about, 
   Skips-Rocks-Off-Your-Head-for-Fun?"
Hank frowns at the knocking, and looks to the door.
Vincent nudges Dillan to get the door, and checks his weapons.
Elan contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Elan shifts into Hispo form.
Brittany lifts the inner lining of her case, revealing a glint of silver as 
   she looks to the door, waiting.
Dillan, quite simply, mouthes the word 'Geek'. The Shadow Lord chuckles at 
   Pete's tactful approach.
Hank tenses and watches the door, waiting.
Vincent says "Kosh, Thena, they could not subvert this... thing?"
Sparrow lays her head against Jimmy. The evening's...festivities have taken 
   their toll on the poor girl.
Dillan finishes mocking Holden and hops down from the bunkbed. He grabs the 
   door, looks back over at Vince, and inches the door open, keeping himself 
   well out of the way of the entrance, doorknob at arm's length. He slides it 
   open a bit, keeping his attention on Vincent for any reaction.
Holden holds off on answering until Dillan checks the door. One hand has slid 
   down to a spot that, given the general trend, conceals a firearm of some 
   sort.
"'lo?" asks the Shadow Lord, door a mere inch or two open.
"I know a bender," Jimmy suddenly whines out. "Might be able ta help us some." 
   He shuts up as the door opens.
Merin mutters to Dillan as the door slides open, "Just me." When he opens the 
   door, she slips in, "Sorry I'm late."
Elan bears his fangs, ready to leap.
JJ Malone, noticing Elan, barks out a threatening, "Don't," then a muttered, 
   "Heya, Hawk." She looks over at Holden, jerking her chin. "Later. We'll 
   talk about it later. Who else has word. Vince, you mentioend someone named 
   Windrunner."
Elan contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Elan shifts into Homid form.
Elan sits back down on the keg, sweating profusely.
Vincent checks Merin with the metering device, briefly, other hand still on 
   shotgun. He nods her by. "I've mentioned to the non-urbans to be more... 
   suspicious of all urbans. Expect a chilly reception all of you, out there. 
   They told me about Windrunner. Abusing a cub he was supposed to be 
   mentoring, abandoning his own mate and pups.
Dillan whews. He releases his deathgrip on the doorknob and reclaims his spot 
   on the bunkbed. His knuckles weren't white, honest.
Holden tips two fingers toward JJ in acknowledgement, and goes back to 
   slouching against the wall.
Pete Barlow gives a nod to Merin and says mirthfully, "I got dibs on friskin' 
   Merin." Barlow looks back at the Walkers and then looks over at Jimmy. "You 
   remember your Rite of Passage?"
Brittany notes, as she settles the inner lining back over her Klaive, "I would 
   also like to test each of you before you leave."
Jimmy Wilson nods solemnly at Pete.
JJ Malone waves a hand somewhat impatiently at Vincent, coaching, "And...spell 
   it out, I want to make sure there's no room for misunderstandin' this time."
Merin gives Barlow a mildy sardonic smirk and takes stock of who's here, and 
   what's being said.
Hank relaxes back into his seat, and listens up agian.
Vincent says "Windrunner is a Gaian. He's acting odd, and he's not at this 
   meeting. That's all I know."
JJ Malone grunts, manner turning suspicious. "He's city, then," she more 
   states than asks Vincent.
Vincent says "Now, do we impose the passing of the bone for turn speaking?"
Pete Barlow gives a nod to Vincent and then says, "We should start thinkin' 
   about packin' silver. These Dancers aren't stupid."
JJ Malone rakes her glance across the Gnawers and Brittany, then nods. "Yeah, 
   do it." She takes a step backwards again, leaving Vincent in the center and 
   taking up a spot behind his shoulder, backing him.
Jimmy Wilson shrugs. "I know where ta get some silver if anyone has the tools 
   ta work it up into bullets or knives or whatever."
Brittany frets, slightly. "If Carl were still with us, his father's sept could 
   make arrangements. Those needing armaments, contact me after this meeting. 
   I shall see what I can manage."
Pete Barlow looks over at Hank. "As the moon thickens, we should do some work 
   in the flip. Mama might be able to help us track at 'em." Barlow looks over 
   at Elan and nods. "You too. And I'll see if I can roust up any of Mama's 
   trueborn. They might could really do some shit for us."
Vincent pulls a folding knife from his pocket. He holds it up, still closed. 
   "This is a bone handle. For now, it'll serve as the bone. Who wishes to 
   speak, step forward to take it. All others listen up."
Pete Barlow looks over at Vincent and frowns. "This ain't a gawddamned 
   courtroom. People can say what they gots to say without passin' a bone. 
   Shit."
Hank nods to Pete's words about the flip, then glances at Jimmy.
Vincent sets down his shotgun on the table. "Barlow, this is for the sake of 
   gettin' the job done. You have an issue with how I get a job done, do it in 
   private, not in front of the whole world. Got a problem with that?"
JJ Malone's glare swivels to Pete, by mood and posture apparently agreeing and 
   supporting Vincent's comments.
Brittany grouses over a few files, arranging maps which she passes towards 
   Vincent, when he and Barlow are through.
"Looks to me like we're gettin' the /job/ done just fine without all of us 
   sittin' around waitin' for some speech making. The Gnawers know the deal," 
   answers Barlow.
Sparrow draws back, eyes widening with fear again as tempers seemingly flare. 
   At least to her, it looks that way.
Holden, for a ragabash, is keeping himself pretty quiet, though his actions 
   tonight probably suggest that he's used to structure and organization in 
   meetings as much as the other Walkers and just takes it as a given.
Elan gestures to Vincent. "Toss me that thing."
Vincent unstraps his shoulder harness, removing the holstered guns as one. 
   "Meeting adjourned. Anyone have anything else they need to say, walk it 
   around."
"No, don't toss him that fuckin' bone," says Barlow with a half-snarl. "This 
   ain't a gawddamned moot or a Walker business meeting. We're talkin' about 
   keepin' this fuckin' town safe for the kids. And we ain't gotta follow no 
   fuckin' parlimentary procedure to do it." The big Gnawer looks hard ove at 
   Vincent.
JJ Malone seems on the verge of explosion when Vincent makes his 
   pronouncement, and his doing so lets her. She glares at Pete. "This isn't 
   about Gnawers and Walkers, this is about us. You haven't changed a god damn 
   bit, 'Gnawers know how to get it done'. Fuck this. I have work to do. You 
   can have your little kegger without me." In a towering fury, she heads for 
   the doorway, gun still out and even more at the ready.
Holden pushes off the wall with his foot, and not coincidentally slides a step 
   further from Pete and Vincent both. "One word, my man," he says to Pete. 
   "Decaf."
Jimmy Wilson stands, pulling Sparrow along with him. He addresses his pack. 
   "Let's go. It's prolly safer on the streets. It always fuckin' gets like 
   this."
Vincent says "Chugs, you an' me gotta have a little talk. Name a place and 
   time."

---- Recall end ----