Lola Hawkes
The last few nights have been fun and
games-- for the most part, anyways. Earlier in the week there had been a
flurry of action and exhaustion and work. There was a night where
sleep was virtually missed out on due to urgency and duty with a few
scant hours of sleep to follow.
There was revelation, a personal
discussion, and more sleep to be followed by more duty when a pair of
Uktena took a trip into the Sept proper to deliver the ashes of a pair
of slain Fomori-- one killed by the Galliard Hector Ghosh, the other
shot in the shoulder and face at point-blank range by the Kinfolk Lola
Hawkes. The Sept members didn't protest to the Kinfolk being within the
Bawn-- she'd grown up there, after all. She was considered one of the
Sept's pups for a long time, before the truth came out that she would
never Change. She was 'That Hawkes Girl' to the more seasoned Garou
there, 'The Hawkes Woman' to the Cubs.
To make up for all of that
work and seriousness, the rest of the week had been more relaxed. Lola
found her routine at home again, and even found time to reach out to
Hector so they could go out together. That was the Botanical Gardens,
last night, and that experience was followed by burgers and soda, paid
for with the money that Hector saved by sneaking into the park rather
than paying admission.
Over that burger and soda Lola suggested
that the next day they go back to the place the Fomori had shambled out
of the blue at them. She wanted to make sure that there was no evidence
left of the fight that had occurred. She also wanted to 'sniff
around', so to speak, to make sure nothing else about that park seemed
fishy or suspicious. Sometimes Fomori were an off-chance occurrance.
This world was going to hell, after all, so it made sense that the Wyrm
would sneak its way into random hearts in small suburban towns.
So,
at about eight in the evening when the sun had ducked behind mountains
and dusk had settled over the land, Lola and Hector rolled up to the
park together in that rust bucket of an old white truck that Lola used
to get around outside of The Homestead. The rumbling old engine cut,
the doors opened, and conversation spilled into the air when a young
couple that didn't quite fit in to the picture (they're not white OR
suburban!) climbed out of the truck's cab.
"--meeting us here?
Did you call her or something?" This was a conversation about the
Fianna of Celduin, for the sake of context.
Hector Ghosh
"Only about thirty times."
The
success the two of them have been having with busking lately has not
translated into a more stable cell phone plan or living situation for
the two senior members of Celduin. Now that Hector refuses to go
anywhere near the Whites' ranch and is gun shy about even taking Jack up
on his offer to use his kinsmen for a place to crash his brilliant game
plan involves continuing to sleep in the urban university libraries and
stealing food out of vending machines.
Or ingratiating himself to his own Kin. That seems to be working like gangbusters.
Moral
of the story is that Hector and Tamsin don't have unlimited anything
with their drug dealer phones and lately he's developed a system whereby
he will call-and-hang-up enough times that it annoys the shit out of
Tamsin enough for her to listen to the voicemail when he finally leaves
it.
This one was TAMSIN LOLA KEEPS SAYING SHE WANTS TO SEE YOU COME TO JACKASS HILL PARK IN LITTLETON WE'RE HUNTING FOMORI OKAY BYE
"She's totally on her way."
Tamsin
[STEALTH + DEX + FOG. This is going to go well.]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 6, 7, 9, 9) ( success x 4 )
Hector Ghosh
[perc + alertness LOL]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 5, 10) ( success x 1 )
Lola Hawkes
[Perception + Alertness]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 6, 7, 10) ( success x 3 )
Tamsin
Tamsin
has wanted to see Lola too. Made it out a couple times and found nobody
at home. Left notes. The kind of notes you'd leave at school, doodles
on lined scraps of paper torn out of that journal she carries around.
The hell do garou even write about? They can't write about the most
interesting parts of their lives. But hey: most people will blather
about anything, won't they? As long as they're putting pen to paper. The
first time Tamsin heard the name of the park she rolled her eyes and
called back to leave a message the first time around and say something
pretty cutting about the size of Hector's jackass hill park and the
likelihood that any girl would ever wanna see it. Then she'd been
appropriately mortified to learn and-or remember, y'know, just as the
quip was out've her mouth, that hey wait it is a real place. Then she'd
said she'd be there.
And she was.
Came by earlier, one way
or another. Maybe the third packmate gave her a ride on his harley, or
maybe she sweet-talked some rube into doing the deed. She'd wandered
around, looking here and looking there, kicking grass and perking up
with interest when she thought she saw a coyote, considered this world
of flesh and blood to be boring as fuck and decided to check out the
otherside, then realized she dropped her pocket mirror somewhere and
littering is bad -- she's wearing a thrift-store RECYCLE tshirt to prove
it, one of the ones with Recycle Rex! -- so she backtracked until she
found it, and was therefore in a perfect position to get YET ANOTHER
ANNOYING MESSAGE, and then to see Hector and Lola rocking up.
Tamsin is packed under fog.
You
don't see her. You don't hear her. She is quiet, muddy eyes narrowed
and serious features intent. She takes that phone. She sneeeeeeeeeeeaks
and sneeeeaks and sneaksneaksneeeeaks sneakysneak sneakersneak sneaks
closer and closer and --
-- throrws the damn thing at Hector's head.
[Athletics + Dex? I am a mature adult.]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 4, 5) ( fail )
Tamsin
[SELF DAMAGE.]
Dice: 2 d10 TN6 (1, 2) ( fail )
Tamsin
But
instead the phone flips out of her hand like a boomerang, hits her on
the knee, gets punted up into her face, misses that, hits her shoulder
and falls to the ground. Like a boss.
Caleb Morgan
Lola
and Hector, the Uktena and his kin, they were here for a reason.
Purposeful and thorough, as one would expect under the circumstances.
And Tamsin, she'd been called there by her packmate.
Caleb?
Caleb was there because he was there. He didn't know about the recent
Fomori attack. All he knew was that there was an actual park in the
Colorado suburbs that someone had named Jackass Hill, and any
place with Jackass in the title surely bore at least a token
investigation. So not long after Tamsin surprised Hector with a very
poorly aimed toss of her phone that was probably meant to hit the
galliard in the head, they'd all be treated to the sight of a shiny new
bright red Ducati Superbike being driven by a tall, athletic blond in
shorts and a tank top pulling off the road into the parking lot.
When
Caleb spotted Hector, he grinned and pulled to a stop in the parking
space adjacent to the truck. "Well if it isn't the Skald." His focus
shifted to Tamsin. "Congratulations, I think you killed it."
Caleb's grin broadened, like he was just so damn pleased to find them all there.
Lola Hawkes
The
confession that her companion had called his packmate so many times to
tell her to come meet them was met with a grin and a bit of a huff, but
don't be mistaken, as the sound was a satisfied one. The truck door
wasn't locked-- Lola didn't bother with that. Plus, it slowed her down
if she needed to get back into that cab right quick for whatever reason.
(Like
the last time they were here, and the truck door being unlocked allowed
Lola to access the big heavy magnum pistol she kept tucked away under
the bench seat that much faster. She'd only just managed to get the gun
up and the safety switched off before she'd been ambushed. If she had
to fumble for keys to unlock the truck, that night may have ended with a
lot less victory.)
So she and Hector walked away from the truck,
out to the broad stretch of grass that was recently mowed and set up for
a youth community game of some sort (probably soccer, possibly
lacrosse, Lola didn't know or care). She'd put her fists on her hips
and was scoping the area with a long side-to-side glance when there came
a ruckus to the left. Her attention snapped over to Tasmin, and she
blinked for one second before recognition and understanding kicked in. A
broad grin split over the woman's face, her hands left her hips, and
she tapped the back of Hector's bicep nearest her with the flat of her
palm to focus his attention before she called out:
"What the hell
did you do to yourself?" Of course, the greeting was nothing but good
humor and fondness, and she made her approach.
The bright red
bike, though, had Lola's confident stride slowing a bit. The blonde man
that hopped off the expensive looking motorcycle came to greet them,
and Lola nodded her head upward to him before sticking out a hand in his
direction. Her body language almost demanded a handshake.
"You must be Jack?"
Hector Ghosh
Unfortunately
he misses the sight of Tamsin smacking herself in the face with her
near-obsolete phone and gets Lola smacking him as a consolation prize.
He turns around not expecting anything at all and then extrapolating
from the cell phone's sad-faced presence on the ground and the
blushiness on Tamsin's face that she attempted something that backfired.
"Dork," he says to Tamsin by way of greeting.
And
then up roars an Ahroun on a motorcycle. Tamsin already knows how
Hector feels about motorcycles. Half the Gaian contingency of Colorado
probably knows how Hector feels about motorcycles. He's a
twenty-one-year-old boy. He whistles at the sight of the thing and then
--
Well if it isn't the Skald.
Before he can start ribbing the older male in return Lola is approaching him as if to introduce herself to the other
super awesome oh-my-god-i'm-in-love-with-him motorcycle-riding Bone
Gnawer-looking motherfucker Hector's been raving about the last month or
so.
"Oh no," Hector says. Laughs not that deep-throated nerd
laugh of his but a higher-pitched shorter-lived one that indicates he's
surprised. "That's not Jack, that's Caleb. He beat me up and took my
weed a couple weeks ago."
Tamsin
Tamsin is not
particularly intimidating, even when you haven't just watched her get
beat-up by her own phone, so the glare she shoots Caleb, while meant to
kill, is more like a gnat taking a little nibble and failing to make a
welt. He grins like he's just so damn pleased to find them all there,
and Tamsin opens her mouth to -- say nothing, because it's then that the
scent of his purebreed filters through, that shining upon high heroes
upon heroes glory that attends those who've got 'fangs in their lineage,
so she closes her mouth and flushes instead, stepping rather violently
on the fallen phone.
The Galliard runs her fingers over her hair,
which is loose and wild today, she's thinking about cutting it, and
looks sheepish (and still blush-y), "Did you ever hear that old story
about the spirit who inhabits phones, went wild because this guy called
Geek Slurpy got drunk on grain-potent something combined it with
gatorade that had an actual hand-to-God living sentience inside it,
something about the color, then decided to do the most wicked and
damaging text-forward chain-letter curse of all time? 'cause it was
that."
Tamsin is sort of looking Caleb over again, looking him
over like who the heck are you, and then Lola says he must be Jack at
about the time Tamsin's looked Caleb in the face again and Tamsin:
well, the clouds disperse, ladies and gentlemen, and she laughs.
Tamsin
[I am being legit about the spirit curse in the phone, btw. See my bambi eyes? Manip + Subt. Specialty, all the way.]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 5 ) Re-rolls: 1
Caleb Morgan
He
swung his leg over the seat and stepped off the motorcycle, which left
him looking down at his tribe-mate from nearly a foot above, giving
Tamsin a nice view of the long outline of his torso beneath the thin
fabric of his shirt. And see, she mistook him for something else -
something he carried in his blood but not in his heart. It happened a
lot, that. Caleb knew her for what she was though. Tamsin's own blood
was of a more honest variety. So when she rattled off that excuse,
Caleb gave a little huff of laughter and gave the poor girl a friendly
slap on the shoulder. "Good thinking then."
His accent was off
somehow. Not belonging to any specific place. It hovered somewhere
between British and American like he couldn't decide where he wanted to
be from.
And then there was Hector and Lola.
If Caleb had
ever met Jack (if he'd known what Jack looked like,) he probably would
have been somewhat bemused to have been mistaken for him. But he hadn't
met Jack. He didn't even know who the hell Jack was. So when Lola
came marching up to him with her hand held out, he just raised an
eyebrow and looked at her like he was waiting for the punchline. Hector
corrected the assumption, and Tamsin... laughed.
Because see, she had met Jack.
"If I'd beaten you up, you'd still be hurting," Caleb countered, before finally reaching out to take Lola's hand. "Hey there."
He smiled, and looked gorgeous and hungry all at the same time.
Lola Hawkes
The
Kinswoman frowned some, though more in confusion than anything else,
when Hector corrected her with a laugh. Tasmin joined in, and Lola
glanced to her as well. Dark eyebrows furrowed together on the woman's
face, but she didn't seem bothered about being laughed at. Rather, she
just seemed inconvenienced.
Even while Caleb accepted her hand and
shook it, Lola was looking back at the pair of Galliards and asking:
"Where the fuck is this guy? Is he real, then?"
Quick as a
switch, though, her hand tightened around Caleb's and she looked back to
him. Eyes cut up and down the length of him, but there was nothing
'hungry' about the way she looked at him. She wasn't drinking him in,
as he was probably accustomed to given that he was an attractive and
well-built blonde man with a motorcycle, but rather she was sizing him
up. The almost overcompensatingly firm grip that she had to her
handshake went right along with it.
"Caleb, then. Good to meet you. I'm Lola Hawkes."
She
held herself like she was expecting a challenge to come around the
corner at any time in her life. She was taller than the other woman
here by several inches, and her posture made her seem even moreso than
that. She stood with her shoulders squared, and with her feet nearly
lined up with her broad hips on the ground beneath her. Her chin was
level to the ground, her gaze was intense, and there was a fire and life
to her that tried desperately to substitute the Rage she had been
denied at birth. She dressed today in a white T-shirt that rode just a
little high on her midsection, and a pair of jean pants that she had
tucked into hiking boots that had seen far better days in the past. Her
hair was in a simple ponytail, and driving with the truck windows down
had caused wisps of hair to come free and float to frame her face and
ears.
She was pretty, but more than that she seemed tough and dusty, much like the land she was born to protect.
When
she let go of the Ahroun's hand, she turned to face Tasmin but regarded
the broken phone instead. With a hundred percent sincerity in her
voice she asked: "Do you want me to burn the pieces, then? Make sure
it doesn't move on?" She added after a second and a sidelong glance to
Hector. "He called you-- could have travelled to his. We should burn
it too."
Hector Ghosh
Is everybody looking? Everybody look. This never happens. Seriously. Look.
Okay:
Hector doesn't have a snappy comeback to Caleb telling him he'd still
be hurting if he'd beaten him up. It's a total truism. He actually
stands there with his brow furrowed like he's thinking about it and
having thought about it cannot counter it. All Oh yeah you're right. Shit.
And
then the moment passes and Caleb is smiling and shaking Lola's hand and
he's distracted by Tamsin. Turns away from the display to smack the
hand that's holding the cell phone.
"What's a chain letter? Have you been reading Twilight fanfic porn again?"
Lola
distracts poor Tamsin from having to deal with her alpha then. He just
stands back and bites his thumbnail so he doesn't start laughing too
hard.
Tamsin
The much taller Silver
Fang-who-actually-belongs-to-Stag, the well-made and attractive much
taller Silver-Fang-who-actually-belongs-to-Stag, slaps Tamsin on the
shoulder, and the young woman rounds her shoulders, but flashes him a
grin, still highly amused at the comparison of Caleb and Jack. "Yeah,
well," she has the gall to say, in a temperate voice, all modesty this
Fianna.
"Jack's real, Lola. He's really cool, too. I like watching
him work on his bike, though I don't really get why it needs so much
work all the time." Then -- and this happens as soon as Caleb withdraws
even the slightest bit, and likely still as Lola is sincerely trying to
figure out the best course of action for dealing with cellphones that
have a wicked spirit chain text going on -- Tamsin goes over and gives
her packmate's (because Maria might be dead, but she's not gone, she
hasn't stopped being Tamsin's packmate, she's just waiting elsewhere
for a while) sister a hug.
It's a tight hug.
It's a glad-to-see-you hug.
"We can probably just cleanse them," she says, and, "I missed you."
Hector's
quip gets a cool look over Lola's shoulder, and, "dude, I no longer
click the links you send me, you know that," and as soon as she's done
hugging Lola, Tamsin turns to Caleb in order to introduce herself
properly.
Like the serious galliard that she is.
Caleb Morgan
It was debatable whether there was ever a time when Caleb wasn't
hungry in some fashion or another. It lent an edge and bite to his
character that never entirely went away. (As one would expect of his
auspice.) Lola wasn't impressed by either his build or his grin, but
that didn't seem to deter the ahroun. He just kept smiling. "Good to
meet you."
At Hector and Tamsin's exchange, he laughed and released Lola's hand, giving Tamsin room to go in for that hug.
"I don't think I wanna know what the hell you guys do when you're alone."
When
Tamsin re-approached him for a proper introduction, Caleb's manner grew
brooding-intense and mock serious. "Caleb Morgan. Shadowboxer.
Cliath full moon of the fucking Fianna, thank you very much."
Lola Hawkes
Caleb
moved a step back, and that gave Tasmin the room she wanted and needed
to open her arms and meet the Kinfolk properly. It was clear that Lola
has been familiar with the pair of Gibbous Moons for a while, now. She
was too at ease with them. She didn't seem much the hugging type when
you first met her, but when the petite Fianna approached with arms open
the tough-as-nails Kinfolk welcomed her happily.
The hug was
returned, and just as tightly. Her arms went around Tasmin's shoulders
and cinched at her back. Even with Hector's comments and the quip that
was tossed back to him over her shoulder, Lola just let that slide and
instead focused on propertly re-greeting the young woman that she'd
hosted in her home plenty of times before. She was one of several that
would come home with the eldest, Maria Hawkes, and whom she would spend
long talkative nights around tall bonfires with.
"Missed you too, Tasmin."
Then
introductions are happening. The handsome man on the bike reveals
himself to be a Fianna Ahroun, and Lola steps back and out of the way
some. She found herself at Hector's side, and after an idle second and a
half she glanced back out at the park and muttered to the other
Uktena: "I didn't see any stains left on the grass right away. No old
police tape or anything either. Looks like we went unnoticed."
Hector Ghosh
The
Uktena continues to chew on his thumbnail while his packsister and his
kinswoman greet each other after nearly a year of absence. Glances over
at Caleb while the women are hugging and lifts his eyebrows all slow and
suggestive when he says he doesn't think he wants to know what the hell
they do when they're alone.
So the thumbnail doesn't work as a
blockade. He laughs deep in his throat and shakes his head like to
suggest it's Caleb who's the sick bastard and not the guy who's making
awful jokes.
Then Lola comes to stand beside him while the Fianna
properly introduce themselves and mutters to him. Hector glances between
their shoulders to survey the damage or the lack thereof and tucks the
hand upon whose thumbnail he'd been gnawing into his pocket. The other
comes across his body and holds itself out for Lola to slap a palm to.
"Oh yeah," he says back in a tone low to match hers. "That's how you combat the Wyrm."
Tamsin
Tamsin's
demeanor is not mock serious. No, no, Tamsin is as serious as a bloody
knife in the hand of the guy standing over the freshly stabbed
love-of-your life, and she is about as judgmental as you'd be in that
situation too, coming on someone who might just have innocently picked
up that knife and not been involved at all and -- the point, my friends,
is that Tamsin is not mock serious. Not about names. Not ever, ever
about names. They're the only things that matter. They're the stories.
"Tamsin
Hall: Cinder Song, Furious Lament, Fianna Galliard of Celduin, Fog's
favored, the river running," and she even does it with a certain
river-running cadence, like she's going to slip into a story though
instead of a story she slips into a quick smile and raised eyebrows
(raising them out've a furrow, like, what, you, a Fianna ahroun, how in
the world). "Oh yeah? The fucking Fianna? that's one of the fun camps. Um, how in the world did you happen into it though?"
Tamsin
looks at Hector now. It isn't that she'd been avoiding looking at him.
She had to look at him to throw her phone at his head. Which, fine, she
might as well not have been looking at him, but still. And she looked at
him after the Twilight porn crack. But she is mostly avoiding looking
at him right now.
"And which direction did the monsters come
from? I've been poking around while I waited but haven't found anything
more interesting than a beehive and a coyote and a pretty clean water
fountain." Pause, and then to Caleb, "Hector and Lola," there is some
emphasis on the and, "were badass here."
Caleb Morgan
Tamsin
gave her name exactly like a Fianna Galliard ought to, with all the
reverent artistry of a proper storyteller, and maybe Caleb felt an urge
to tease her about it, but if he did he (for once) kept it to himself.
Maybe that was his version of showing respect to a Tribe-mate. She
seemed a bit surprised by his own introduction, and tossed his own
phrasing back at him in that pointed tone. At that, Caleb leaned in
until his face was inches from her own. His eyes (blue and bright and
wild) locked on hers, steady and challenging.
"As I told your friend there, I'm not inbred enough for Falcon. But I'm just crazy enough for Stag, so it worked out."
He grinned a little, but there was something hard in his eyes. Like he was daring her to disagree.
Tamsin
used a word that he'd never heard before (maybe in a movie once,) and
initially he had no context for it, but then she went on to say that
Hector and Lola had been 'badass' and he cocked his head and got this
oh-so-interested look on his face, like maybe the prospect of 'bad
things afoot' was actually kind of exciting for him. "You guys kill
something?"
Lola Hawkes
Hector's open palm was
greeted with a 'smack' from Lola's, the gesture also coming from an arm
that crossed the front of her body. She kept watching the Fianna while
they high-fived over their success, just as he did. It made the whole
exchange look moderately conspiratorial.
"Fuckin' A," was the answer that she gave him, and the grin on her face was toothy, wide, and pleased.
Tamsin
and Caleb exchanged names, Tamsin expressed curiosity as to how Caleb
found himself a part of Fianna's crew, and his answer was laden with wit
but peppered with challenge. He'd brought his face quite close to
Tamsin's when he'd said it, and this had Lola bristling defensively, but
only for a second. He'd straightened back up, out of her friend's
face, so Lola relaxed and tucked her hands into her pants pockets.
Caleb asked if they'd killed something, and Lola shrugged one shoulder and nodded her head to the grass behind her.
"Pair
of Fomori. Hector took one, I took the other. We had to drag the
bodies away right quick, though, because the gunshots would have lots of
attention here fast. We were coming back to see if a ruckus had been
made over the quote-unquote 'crime scene' or not."
Hector Ghosh
"She's being modest."
Because of course she is. There isn't enough hyperbole and dramatic reenactment of all the blood and viscera flying everywhere.
"Dude,
the one guy was smaller than me but he had these gnarly like--" He
holds both of his hands up in front of his face, fingers hooked and
heels together, to pantomime a mouth full of fangs. "--looked like a
shark--" Drops them. "--and we only thought it was him, remember, and
you were like 'Should I go get my gun?' and then he tried to bite me and
I was like 'Why that's a splendid idea Miss Hawkes why don't you do
that yes' and then you turned around and his girlfriend was all--"
He waves his arms around and makes a noise that sounds something like GNARARGHAR.
"Blew
her away in like, half a second. Before I even knew she was there. And
the guy was just like... It's a good thing it rained, man. Just... salsa
everywhere."
His tone starts losing its youthful exuberance the further into the story he goes, about the time he gets to before I even knew she was there.
Like his imagination is already filling in the gaps as to what would
have happened if they'd locked the doors like urban denizens do even
when they're out in the middle of nowhere.
"So gross."
Tamsin
Tamsin
is not one to flinch away. Not since she found herself uprooted from
what she very rarely thinks of as 'the real world' now, so when the
(other) Fianna looms and brings his face near, although his breeding
tells her to just look away, she doesn't quite. He stares hard into her
eyes, and her own eyes narrow back, a lick of tension in her shoulders
and c'mon let's be honest a song in her heart, a bounce in her step not
that she's stepped anywhere, but there's the potential for bounce.
She
doesn't seem like she's going to disagree; seems more bemused, if
anything, and rubs her chin with her right hand (coincidentally, her
phone which is still on the ground whizzed right back her chin at that
particular point).
"More Fianna is always a good thing," she says,
with the blissful serenity of one who completely believes what she is
saying. "One day you gotta tell me the name of whatever or whoever was
your most satisfying fight."
Speaking of satisfying fights: Lola and Hector are expanding on theirs, and Tamsin listens.
Lola Hawkes
"Not modest, just straightforward."
She
grinned none the less, though, and seemed a bit puffed up when Hector
told the bit of the story where she 'blew her away in, like, half a
second'. A thumb jerked over her shoulder, and she explained:
"I'm
going to go walk the park a bit more-- make sure there's no more of
those guys hovering around or lurking at the corners or anything." She
didn't have any weapons on her that could be seen. Hector would know
that she had a utility knife jammed into one of her pockets, but that
wouldn't do much. He'd also know that she threw punches to stun and
shrugged off hits that have knocked 300 lb. men unconcious, though, so
there wasn't too much to fear about having this particular Kinfolk out
on her own.
"I'll come back if there are any. Let you all know.
Won't engage with 'em on my own. Not too much, anyways." She hopped
her eyebrows up and down on her forehead for effect, to punctuate that
she was jesting, and squeezed Hector's shoulder when she moved away from
him. Tamsin was given a pat on the arm when she was passed, and Caleb
was given a nod of the head and a slightly less familiar but no less
warm farewell: "Good to meet ya, man."
And with that, she went off to run a patrol, which was something she was quite used to.
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