Juices like wine (attention Primer, open)

[Rahne Sinclair]

Rahne wakes up in a dimly-lit cage and, wary, remains immobile as she watches the white-coated men pace back and forth.

The last thing she remembers clearly is the clicking sound under her carelessly-placed hindpaw and a cloud of noxious gas streaming from under the ground. After that, everything is a burning-eyed, semi-conscious haze... nets tangling her, the sound of some kind of air-gun, darts burying themselves in her fur. After that, darkness.

Her head still pounds, and her muscles are sore, and her throat is parched; it feels like she's been asleep for days. She's nowhere she recognizes; everything smells of antisceptic and strange chemicals, like the doctor's hut back home in her old village. Has she been sick, then?

One of the doctors is talking on the telephone, and she listens carefully... his accent is strange, but intelligable. "No, no... it's useless for our purposes, really. Fully human... or, well, mutant, but if we wanted to study that we could just put an ad out on Craig's List... yes, that's right... exactly... well, how should I know? Maybe the police, or that freaky anti-terrorist unit, you know, the guy with the wings and the white-haired black lady... yeah, yeah, fine. I'll be here."

He hangs up, and she considers the side of the conversation she overheard. "mutant"? "Craig's list?" "guy with the wings?" "black lady?" It all tantalizingly hovers on the edge of sense, but really she has no idea what's going on. What she does know is that these people have hunted her down, trapped her, drugged her, caged her, and are now discussing her fate.

The less she gives away, the better, she decides. If they think she's still unconscious, they will be less wary around her. They might open her cage, or leave her alone to break out of it herself. She allows herself a small, predatory smile at the thought... they only need to make one mistake, and she'll make sure it's their last.

It takes less than an hour.

“All right, Steve,” the older man says to his younger colleague. “Give her another shot, uncouple the hookups and get her ready for shipping out of here before she wakes up… the Feds’ll get here pretty soon to take her off our hands.” Rahne doesn’t know who the ‘Feds’ are, but it doesn’t matter; she won’t be here when they arrive. Steve barely even looks at her when he unlocks the gate to her cage, and that’s all she was waiting for.

She slams the gate open in Steve’s face, breaking his nose and sending him flying half-way across the room. The older man freezes for a moment, then bolts for a tranquilizer rifle hanging on a nearby peg; Rahne decides to let him reach it as she slides behind a lab counter. She shows herself for a moment, then ducks back again as he fires where she was, and laughs. " Ach, it’s nae s’easy when she’s nae sleepin’, is’t?"

“You can talk?” The man sounds as much incredulous as he does frightened, which means she isn’t doing her job properly. "Aye, wee man… an’ more’n talk, too..." she croons for a moment, enjoying the man’s fear

Steve clambers to his feet, the effort sending blood gushing from his broken nose over his face, and the smell hits Rahne like roasting meat to a starving man. He runs towards the containment alarm; she has no idea what it is, but decides it’s best not to let him reach it. She breaks from cover to close with him, not even slowing down as her hindpaws slash open his torso; he collapses to the floor again behind her as another dart misses and she slips behind cover again.

"Nae e’en close, wee man. Yer nerves fool yer eyes, aye?" Now he’s frightened; she can tell from the way he breathes. And once she reaches the light-switch, there’s no longer any point to dragging it out… she leaves him bleeding his guts out on the floor next to Steve, their slow deaths offered in reparation for however long they kept her caged and unconscious.

That’s when she hears footsteps from the hallway outside the door, and picks up a strange scent: human, but different, and somehow soothing. Her hackles relax slightly, and she slips into shadow again to see who this new arrival is going to be.

[Primer]

[[Sorry for the delay!]]

The door swings open, squeaking a little, and the footsteps stop as Primer pauses on the threshold for a moment, listening carefully and straining his eyes futilely into the darkness of the room. Damn. Should have brought Ferus after all, I can’t see a thing in here. In truth he’s still winging this whole leadership gig- using common sense and skills gleaned from the business and psychology world to try to direct the actions of a group of confused, angry, restless, impulsive terrorists. It’s working surprisingly well so far but right now he feels a stab of uncertainty, standing in some dark warehouse where he as “Special Agent Thomas” (Magneto’s excellent contacts are still benefiting his group even after the former leader’s passing and Primer’s special brand of persuasion is allowing him to take full advantage) is supposed to pick up a feral wolf mutant from Scotland who has evidently-judging from the sounds he heard a few moments ago- not waited for the arrival of the cavalry. He hadn’t wanted any subordinates, excepting maybe Taskmaster who has no ambitions to power or Roger who was, well, too insane to threaten his position, to see him in a moment of weakness but Taskmaster was off on some ‘freelance’ work and without him to handle the younger boy Roger was a handful, so that left going alone. Now he’s beginning to think weak might be better than dead. Bad doggy. No biting. he thinks wryly and keeps pumping out a subtle, no need to overdo it, stream of calming pheromones.

The calculations, his weighing of the situation, though seemingly lengthy in his mind take only moments externally and in a moment he’s located and flipped on the light-switch. Much as I expected from the noise they made, he thinks as he looks around the room: stereotypical transport warehouse, dimly lit with a cracking foundation and graffiti half-heartedly scrawled across the wall, indecipherable letters linked together in neon spray paint in various stages of faded, and of course the bodies. No sign of the mutant herself though, probably hiding somewhere in the shadows. “Messy.” he remarks to himself with a bit of distaste, kicking aside the hand of one of the guards as the man, miraculously clinging to life for a few more moments, burbles something through a mouthful of blood and tries weakly to grab hold of Primer’s boot as he walks by.

“You couldn’t just wait for rescue could you?” he asks the seemingly empty room, sounding more amused than anything else. “Still, admirably done, probably just coming out of unconsciousness to take them by surprise like that. I’m impressed.” he flashes a smile in the vague direction of the most shadowy corner, smooth talking his way along while he wonders what exactly one says in this sort of situation. After a moment he shrugs and continues amiably, “My name is Primer. I’m here on behalf of a group of mutants.” he looks down at the bodies again for a moment, doing some quick psychological calculations before speaking up again. “We take care of our own and hurt the people who deserve hurting. I’d like to pitch joining up to you but…” he looks around the room and wrinkles his nose, “…perhaps somewhere a little more comfortable? Your call.” he crosses his arms and leans back against the wall with the air of a man who doesn’t care that he’s ruining a thousand dollar suit in the grime while he makes himself comfortable waiting for the other mutant to decide whether or not to show herself- he can always just buy another.

[Rahne Sinclair]

She watches the new arrival warily, careful not to give herself away.

He is frightened; she can tell that much from the way he moves, the way he smells. But he doesn’t succumb to it, doesn’t flinch at the bodies. She likes that, likes the way he carries himself, his air of confidence… and something else, too, something that makes her feel safe, calm, protected. Something she can’t quite analyze, but that doesn’t matter… in her lupine form, experience is far more important than analysis.

She doesn’t pay a lot of attention to his words, beyond the pleasant surprise of knowing he isn’t threatening or pleading. But his comment about " take care of our own and hurt the people who deserve hurting” catches her attention and imagination.

Is it possible? She’s been alone for a long time now, and has accepted that as part of God’s will for her. But she’s always known that she can’t be the only Hunter in the world… try as she might, she could never take all those who needed taking. Might she have found her kindred here?

Aye, and are ye likely gettin’ a better offer today? Kindred or not, until she learned the ways of this place she needed some place to stay. Even if this man betrays her – and something about him makes her confident that he won’t – she might still be better off than on her own. I just have to take care, tread wary.

Having made her decision, she doesn’t hesitate… a spring from concealment brings her face within inches of his. "Where?"

[Primer]

"Where?"

There’s a pale face inches away from his where a moment ago there was nothing but shadow and even Primer can’t help but spring back a quick pace and struggle a moment with his suddenly heightened breath at such a shock. Luckily it’s been long enough since his pheromone power was uncontrolled that he doesn’t broadcast the emotion to Rahne, containing it as automatically as he’d once released it in times of stress. She and Sherridan, too goddamn stealthy for their own good.

“Well, any number of places really.” he responds easily, as if his initial frightened reaction had never happened, or as if he expected her not to notice. “If you’re hungry there’s a place fairly nearby, the Bear’s Head, that’s relatively well-kept, serves food, and doesn’t mind interesting clientele as long as they’re calm inside and can pay. Which I can.” he assures her with that last sentence, “When I said we take care of our own I meant it in more senses than protection- we have enough resources for such lovely things as buying lunch for prospective new members.” he uncrosses his arms and smiles at her, holding out a hand. “First though I feel we should introduce ourselves don’t you? I’m Primer.”

[Rahne Sinclair]

Rahne is more than a little confused by Primer’s response – and by his strange name -- but she manages to get the general idea.

She has to admit, the thought of food is extremely tempting… she’s capable of going days without eating if she has to, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t hungry. Not to mention that it’s been months since she’s had proper pub food; she’s been living off of what she can hunt for a long time now.

It’s strange… this is the first time she’s met anyone in her nonhuman form who didn’t run screaming from her. Not that he’s entirely calm in her presence, but he’s doing a very good job of acting that way. And the way he talks, as if there were a whole village… "Y’mean there are more… like me?"

> " First though I feel we should introduce ourselves don’t you? I’m Primer."

His hand is small and pale against her red-furred paw, but she shakes it anyway. "Rahne¹. Rahne Sinclair. And aye, proper food would be a blessing. But I hae naught t’wear t’this ‘Bear’s Head’…" She glances over at the two bodies, wondering if she can appropriate their garments… but they are shredded and blood-soaked and far too large, besides. And while that doesn’t much bother her now, she knows that when she reverts to human form she will regain her human sense of modesty.

[Primer]

"Y’mean there are more… like me?"

Does she mean mutants? Werewolves? Terrorists? How much does she know about all this? Primer wonders, temporarily a bit lost. He’d had little time to gather formal knowledge about this new mutant, just gotten a hasty call from one of Magneto’s old contacts saying that a captured mutant from Scotland was basically being sold to whichever government or private agency wanted her. The contact had given him information on how to reach them and he’d smooth talked his way in as a fed and then jumped in the car to hurry down as new recruits were he thinks of Roger and adds a usually at the beginning of his next thought- most useful when they were as trauma free as possible. Now facing this lupine girl of indeterminate age and knowledge he feels another almost sentimental pang of longing for a couch smelling like perfectly worn leather, a carpet soft enough to walk on barefoot, a phone and a fax machine and perfect control and knowledge of the situation parameters. He’d always wanted power but he’d never wanted leadership, Magneto’s right-hand man had been the ideal position but with the man’s death… well a good deal of his anger at that could be put down to the annoyance at the position it left him in. Still, make the best of it. He opens his mouth to answer but she’s moved on and he pauses to listen with an easy smile.

"Rahne1. Rahne Sinclair. And aye, proper food would be a blessing. But I hae naught t’wear t’this ‘Bear’s Head’…"

He looks down, blank on her meaning for a moment ah, werewolf, right. I suppose the transformation would render her naked. “I’m sorry Miss. Sinclair, you’ll have to excuse me that oversight.” he takes off his suit jacket and holds it out to her, “Will this do for the walk to the car? I believe we have some extra clothes in the back, you never know what you’ll wind up needing in our line of work.” he pauses then remembering her earlier question goes on, “If you mean mutants, people with power, then there are many, many more. I’m one myself though my abilities are nothing so flashy as yours. We have a man who only has to see something once to memorize and learn it, Jamie Madrox who splits off into multiple clones, and a man who has abilities a bit like yours though his traits are of the feline variety, to name a few.” he extends the coat a bit further towards her to punctuate the sentence, hoping that would be enough to continue her interest.

[Rahne Sinclair]

Rahne blinks in surprise at the man’s offer of his jacket, unsure of what to do.

She trusts this man… which is unusual in and of itself, and she’s not entirely sure why, but she does. Still, she’s not used to anyone offering to help her – everyone has an ulterior motive, she knows that, and she can’t figure out what his might be. Maybe he’s just trying to trick her into human form, figuring she’s more vulnerable that way? She doesn’t think so – he doesn’t seem threatening – but if that’s his game, he’ll learn the hard way how quickly she can change back.

"Thank’y." The jacket barely reaches her waist when she first shrugs it on, but drops down to below her knees after she sends away the Beast.

As always, everything changes then. The smells of blood and fear fade away, and the bodies on the ground bring a brief wave of nausea when she notices their blood on her hands, and remembers the taste of it in her mouth, and she’s suddenly very aware of her own immodesty in being here, dressed like this, in a strange place with a strange man.

On the other hand, she’s also very aware of her hunger – the Beast can go without food for days and barely notice, but Rahne the mortal girl has no such strength in her – and the man’s offer of food. And her instinct is to trust him, and she’s learned to trust her instincts.

As for the rest of what he’s saying, most of it makes no sense to her. "’Mutants’? Aye, those doctors said summat ‘bout that. I’m a mutant, then, am I?" She shrugs, not certain what to do with that revelation. Reverend Craig had said she was a tool of Satan; perhaps this man was as well, him and the strange friends he talked about. Perhaps she’d found her own people, finally. She smiles a little coldly at the thought. "And these mutants, ye and t’others… what do y’do with yerselves, other’n protect each other? What would ye want from me?"

[Primer]

"Thank’y."

“Of course.” he replies politely, automatically, as his eyes behind their usual veil of clinically professional detachment consider her in this new human form. She’s a redhead which he might have expected from the russet color of her fur in wolf form but which strikes him now all the same. He’s always had a taste for red hair and ever since he lost Gail the color has evoked the sensation of intangibility, flash-fire, here and gone and just out of his reach. Yet the way he looks at Rahne now, even if she could penetrate the veil he’s gotten used to casting over his true intentions, is more analytical than lustful, gathering data, assessing the risk. He’s never been indiscreet with a female client during his professional career, and- perhaps because he’s always indulged that sort of carnality elsewhere or because, as he would put it, he has no interest in broken toys- he has never even been tempted. Yet his contempt for the weaker sex has always been compounded by his disregard for human life, killing or harming a human is much on the same level to him as eating a hamburger, it’s the food chain, the dominance and evolution of species at the awkward stage where dinner still talks back. Beautiful women are dolls to play with or break and other women aren’t particularly interesting and either way they’ve even less worth to the world than the average beef cow. He’d always wondered what would happen if he were faced with a mutant female who was attractive, not young enough to be his daughter (Marrow, who despite the fact that she’s at least over seventeen is still lumped into the messy adolescents category with the other under-twenties) or somewhat revoltingly odd looking (Mystique). Now, it appears, he’ll find out since the picture of the petite red-head standing naked except for his knee-length jacket wouldn’t inspire celibate thoughts in most men. No, he decides after a moment with a sense of relief as all that comes to his readily blank mind is thoughts of how to recruit her and utilize her power, more of an asset or employee than a plaything. Though I still wouldn’t say no if she were to proposition me I suppose. This makes things much easier.

"’Mutants’? Aye, those doctors said summat ‘bout that. I’m a mutant, then, am I? And these mutants, ye and t’others… what do y’do with yerselves, other’n protect each other? What would ye want from me?"

Her voice calls him back from thoughts of himself and he nods as he begins walking and gestures for her to come along with him, assuming she’ll keep pace and answering as he strides towards the door, thinking she really doesn’t know anything about all this…what on earth has she been doing with herself all these years that she doesn’t even know what a mutant is? Better stick to simplistic terms. “Yes, that’s the only explanation for your abilities that I know of, and we’ve seen cases like yours before. The feline man I mentioned from my organization for instance.” He registers a brief pang of reluctance to call the Brotherhood ‘his’ in even the most loose, conversational sense before he pushes the door open and holds it for her to pass through, while going smoothly on with his speech, “Though apparently you’ve been believing something different… perhaps it would be most helpful if you told me a bit about yourself, how you came to be in this situation, so that I can fill in the gaps without skipping too far ahead or boring you with what you already know?” he wonders if she’ll go for that, after all she has no reason other than his continuing pheromone output to trust him and he doesn’t want to overdo that- ideally she’ll never know he’s influenced her today. People tend to have the silly habit of being wary and hostile towards people they later learn have manipulated them overtly.

As he waits for her answer he looks through the door he’s holding, down towards the end of a dark corridor all cheap stained paneling and shoddy doors to the sides leading to shabby little offices of the paper-pushers who had managed this warehouse before it was abandoned for the purposes of scientists selling wolf-girls to the government. Beyond the final door is the sunlight of a spring day and the dismal little hall is far better lit, even windowless, than the concrete room they’re leaving behind to collect the blood of Rahne’s captors.

[Rahne Sinclair]

> "apparently you’ve been believing something different… perhaps it would be most helpful if you told me a bit about yourself, how you came to be in this situation, so that I can fill in the gaps without skipping too far ahead or boring you with what you already know?"

Rahne frowns slightly at the suggestion of something condescending and predatory in the older man’s voice, but lets it go after a moment’s contemplation. Thus far he’s been nothing but kind to her, which is more than she’s come to expect from anyone.

"Well, aye sir, I… well, I don’t exactly know quite what t’believe about m’self, to tell ye true. Afore meetin’ ye, I’d not known there were others like me ‘tall." She passes by a window in the hallway and gawks out it like a tourist at the city surrounding her. "Merciful Almighty! That’s – I, I’m sorry for swearin’, sir, ‘tis just I’ve nae seen so many people an’ buildings and all crowded together like tha’, ‘tis… I…" she trails off inarticulately for a moment, amazed by the vast scale of it all, then pulls herself from the window and tries again.

"I… well, in truth, sir, I dunno e’en where I am, t’say nothin’ o how I came t’be here. This ain’t Inverness, or any other city I e’er saw; that’s the truth if I e’er spoke it, for plain an’ pure… but those men were talkin’ ‘bout drugs and such, an’ I think they kept me sleepin’ when I was brought here." It takes her a moment to connect the men’s accents to voices she heard on telly, when she was a child. "Tell me… is this America, then? Are ye all ‘mutants’ here?" She recognizes it as a stupid question as soon as it comes out of her mouth – surely the two corpses in the other room were not like her, they’d been naught but stupid prey – and goes quiet, blushing in embarrassment and keeping her eyes focused on the floor beneath her bare feet as she walks.

[Primer]

"Well, aye sir, I… well, I don’t exactly know quite what t’believe about m’self, to tell ye true. Afore meetin’ ye, I’d not known there were others like me ‘tall."

She’s never met another mutant? A blank slate then… this has possibilities… He nods slowly and keeps walking down the hall at a sedate pace as Rahne continues, smiling a bit at her facial reaction when she catches a glimpse of the scene outside the window.

"Merciful Almighty! That’s – I, I’m sorry for swearin’, sir, ‘tis just I’ve nae seen so many people an’ buildings and all crowded together like tha’, ‘tis… I…"

A blank slate who considers blasphemy profanity that necessitates an apology. Interesting to see how she deals with New York City traffic. he muses, waiting till she’s done with her observations and reminisces to give a response.

“ I… well, in truth, sir, I dunno e’en where I am, t’say nothin’ o how I came t’be here. This ain’t Inverness, or any other city I e’er saw; that’s the truth if I e’er spoke it, for plain an’ pure… but those men were talkin’ ‘bout drugs and such, an’ I think they kept me sleepin’ when I was brought here. Tell me… is this America, then? Are ye all ‘mutants’ here?"

“Well, this place must be a shock for you.” he says at last, after processing all of that, thinking briefly- probably a strict religious upbringing in some sort of backwards flea-infested society…where? Inverness is…Scotland? Makes sense with the accent. All right then, a backwoods Scottish girl who doesn’t know what a mutant is and clings to religious tenants. Best not to start explaining mutation with Darwinism then I suppose. “I suppose I should start with where you are. We’re in America yes, New York City more specifically, and no it isn’t a mutant community though there are places in this country where mutants do tend to gather.” he’s trying to lend a bit of credence to the foolish question she’d blurted out, make her feel a bit more at ease. “Mutants in general… well for a good bit of time now people all over the world have discovered that they have power that no normal human has- the power to move objects with their minds, to teleport, to take on qualities of an animal like yourself. Scientists have decided that this is a new sort of human, the next stage of the theory of evolution. Normal humans have reacted with fear and anger, attacking us and persecuting us even when we have done nothing to threaten them so groups of mutants have formed a sort of community- we protect each other and try to keep the humans in line. Because of our power we’re in a unique position to find the people who deserve to be punished for their actions against mutants and give out justice.” he adds, emphasizing the punishment aspect purposely, he’s found it seems to resonate particularly strong with fundamentalists.

As he finishes that little speech he reaches the front door of the building and pauses before it, looking back at Rahne. “I’m reasonably certain that I wasn’t followed here but you have enhanced senses don’t you? Anything you can sense on the other side of this door that we should worry about?”

[Rahne Sinclair]

New York City! Rahne gasps in amazement at the name. She’s heard about this place… on the telly, before Reverend Craig forbid her to watch it, and in so many of his sermons. A den of iniquity, filled with sinners and lost souls… ‘tis the right place for me, then, ain’t it? Suddenly she’s more excited than she remembers being in a very long time.

> " the power to move objects with their minds, to teleport, to take on qualities of an animal like yourself "

"Faith…" she whispers in awe. And he speaks o’ such miracles as a butcher does of a calf’s liver: rare and precious, but ordinary… naught to whisper of under the blankets at night nor make into a week o’ Sunday sermons. Of course, the Bible attributes such miraculous powers to the Saints and to Christ himself, and the whispered legends of the old folk tell of heroes and spirits with such gifts, but she’d never made the connection to her own condition before listening to this man speak of them in the same breath as this “evolution” of his. She recognizes the term vaguely; Reverend Craig spoke of it from time to time as a tool the Godless use to pull the Unelect away from God. Are they all Satan’s tools, then?

> Because of our power we’re in a unique position to find the people who deserve to be punished for their actions against mutants and give out justice

That thought earns a smile, one at once cold and passionate, and Rahne nods without meaning to. Aye… an’ that answers m’question then, about what they’d be wanting from me. Find and punish those who fall from the Way, eh? Aye, that I c’n do.

> I’m reasonably certain that I wasn’t followed here but you have enhanced senses don’t you? Anything you can sense on the other side of this door that we should worry about?

As with much of what this man says, she’s not sure what all the words mean, but the request is straightforward enough. "Aye, ‘tis nae easy t’ hunt the Beast," she nods in agreement, and calls It into her again, just enough to sharpen the taste of the world without fully taking on its form and destroying the man’s jacket. As she shifts into her furred hybrid form she sniffs the air carefully and tilts her ears back and forth to determine how far the myriad noises are coming from.

"Many people, an’ automobiles, an’…" she sniffs a few times, screwing her face up at the hundreds of tastes she can barely identify… strange foods, strange materials, sweet and acrid and burnt and bitter and things for which she has no words at all. "… och, so many things! But nothin’ nearby, nothin’ huntin’ us, nae… all goin’ about their own business."

She looks back at her unexpected savior, surprised by how much she wants his approval, then sends the Beast away again. Even in New York, she reasons, a wolf-girl is like to draw attention we dinnae want….

[Primer]

"Many people, an’ automobiles, an’… och, so many things! But nothin’ nearby, nothin’ huntin’ us, nae… all goin’ about their own business."

“Good. Very good.” Primer says approvingly, stepping forward alongside her and opening the door for her again. It never hurt to be polite to wolf-human hybrids who could rip out your throat with their teeth after all. “The car’s there.” he tells her, using his free hand to point to the hummer with black tinted windows parked directly in front of the building only a few paces away. “The clothes should be in a brown cardboard box in the back seat and since the windows are tinted you’ll have privacy while you change.”

He thinks for a moment then speaks again, “You know, there’s no reason to detour by the Bear’s Head if you’d like to just get right to settling in at our headquarters. We have as much food there as anyone could eat and it might be more comfortable for you if you’re not used to cities. We have all the modern conveniences, of course, but we also have a few acres of woods around it and aside from my rather colorful associates it can be a very peaceful place.” he shrugs slightly and looks over at her again, “Unless you’re still not sure about joining up with us that is? I’ve seen enough of you and your abilities, even in this rather short interview, to think you’d fit right in at the Brotherhood of Mutants but it’s entirely up to you of course. There could be other opportunities out there I suppose.” he punctuates that with a vague wave towards the New York City skyline, towering and imposing from right in the midst of the factory district.

[[So if you want to continue this into Rahne arriving at Brotherhood HQ you can either start a thread to that effect there or just post a wrap up here and have me start the thread or just assume she's there and start doing your thaaang. ]]

[Rahne Sinclair]

> " We have all the modern conveniences, of course, but we also have a few acres of woods around it and aside from my rather colorful associates it can be a very peaceful place."

"Och, it sounds lovely sir. "

She hesitates a moment at his offer to join their Brotherhood… flattered and wary and excited and unsure all at once. Ultimately, it’s an easy choice, though… she is already accepting his hospitality, after all, and has no desire to remain alone. So she nods shyly, not trusting herself to speak.

She hesitates again before getting into the car… she’s never been in one before (well, at least not while conscious) and her hackles rise even in her human form at the thought of climbing into a metal box. But her anxiety lasts only a moment before fading almost magically away. Once inside the car, which is miraculously far cooler than the outside air, she changes rapidly into the rather shapeless one-size-fits-all track suit she finds there, then hands the jacket back to her new patron.

"Aye… ‘twould be an honor t’join ye."

((OOC: Yah, sounds good. Consider this a wrapup post; we can do an arriving-at-HQ thread if you want, or leave it off-camera… go ahead and start one if you like and I’ll jump in. Also, we can move Rahne to “Brotherhood”))