{Tuesday, 26th August. 18:00 approx}

"How the hell do I get mixed up in these things?" Declan muttered to himself as he walked the short distance across UCLA campus to his dinner appointment. First Morgan, then Sarah, now Sarah's... whatever he is, Lucien. Not to mention Amber, Ariel, and that weird kid Adrian. He looked up at the sky, noting the crescent face of Mother Luna was showing. Again, when he was to talk to a Mage. Hmm. Trying to tell me something, Mother?

He approached the ex-frat house with unease in his soul. Sure, Lucien was Sarah's friend, and he could trust her. But could both of them trust him. Part of the struggle Declan was experiencing was envy of Hunt: with his riches, good looks and designer clothes... and now he'd found out that Hunt was a mage too, like Morgan. If there was a rival male in Declan's mind, Lucien Hunt would be it. And he's taken Morgan on a date... Declan clenched his teeth momentarily. Yeah, but nothing would have come of it. Surely. Morgan wouldn't go for good looks... and charm... and money... Fuck! A few more steps. Okay, calm down. This is business mixed with gettin' to know one another. A feel-out.

Declan had dressed up a little. Rather than the usual t-shirt/jeans/sneakers ensemble, he was wearing a for-real shirt open at the collar and a pair of brown slacks, finished off with some regular shoes. He was freshly shaved, though his heavy beard made a five o'clock shadow inevitable. Face it. You're no damn model. But hey, you've got your own style, right? He straightened up a little as he walked up the steps to Lucien's house. You are Owns-The-Night, Rahu of the Blood Talon tribe. And you take no shit from anyone.

A smile on his lips, he reached out and pressed the bell.

Declan's keen hearing wasn't needed to hear the rhythmic advancement of a woman's heels across the hardwood floor of the foyer. What his senses did tell him was her approximate weight, height, and that she led with her right side when she swayed her hips, meaning she was most likely left-handed.

And she smelled fantastic.

With little effort the door slowly opened, bathing him in the soft light from inside and showering him in a radiance of pure beauty. Rosalind, in her maid's 'uniform' greeted him with a slight nod. "Señor Perault, yes?" she asked in a perfect Spanish accent. "Please, this way."

The Colombian beauty led him inside, past the entrance to the kitchen and the main living area. He quickly conceded that he would follow that short frilly skirt and those raven locks anywhere. She moved with an elegant grace as she led him through to a pair of doors off to his left. Effortlessly she slid them apart and motioned for him to enter.

The den was done in dark stained oak and smelled of leather and rich tobacco. Despite the earthy scent, Declan had to smirk that his nose picked up no trace of pipe or cigar smoke whatsoever. A billiard table, several shelves overloaded with archaic works of literature, and an assortment of alcohol at the opposite end of the room completed the scene.

"Anything I can get you Mr. Perault?" she asked in a soft, sultry voice while she stood there, her hand resting seductively on her hip. "A drink?"

She continued to taunt the man with no idea what he was or was capable of. She didn't need to speak in a Spanish accent, and she certainly didn't need to add any of the extra show Declan was receiving either, but for Rosalind, it was fun.

She intentionally put on a show for him, bending over to retrieve the beer without worrying about what the Blood Talon may be looking at. When she presented a tall glass of imported liquid amber she was even kind enough to display cleavage compressed so tight coal could be made into diamonds in a few short weeks.

She made her exit, making sure to sway her hips the way Declan had only seen women do on late night Cinemax. "Master Hunt will be in shortly," she purred, letting the syllables roll off her tongue. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." The South American stunner winked slowly and conspicuously as she slid the doors closed.

Declan took a deep breath and let it out in a near-whistle. Then realised that it was probably a mistake, since the woman's scent was still in the air, strong sexual interest present in the pheromones and all. Damn and damn. Just. Damn. Smooth move, Hunt. You know what I am, and throw someone like that across my path to see how I'll react? He took another deep breath, just for the hell of it, then chased the scent back with the beer. Perks of the species: a double-high. Taste and smell were practically the same sense, after all. Not many humans appreciated that. Declan sure hadn't, before his Change. Now he got to smell/taste hormonal fluctuations in people. Fear had a rank vinegary taste and made him, well, disgusted. Arousal, on the other hand, was like warm honey and strong rum. Goes well with the beer. He grinned at the closed doors, and wondered if the maid would be at the meal.

Focusing a little on the business at hand, he paced around the den. The books on the shelves caught his attention, and he was engrossed in examining the spines for a few minutes. He was reading the first page of a translation of Gaius Tacitus' Annals when the Master of the house found him.

"Mr. Perault." Lucien's crisp voice came from over the lycanthrope's shoulder. That tone of confidence and, Declan noticed, business. The boy seemed to be surrounded by an air of majesty that Declan could describe as... Pompus Brat. "Thank you for accepting my invitation to dinner, we have much to discuss, you and I."

"I see you've met Rosalind." He said with a smirk as he approached the broad shouldered man and extended his hand. "We've never properly been introduced, I'm Lucien Hunt."

He set the book back on the shelf before facing Hunt, turning then letting his silver gaze take the younger man in. The young mage didn't seem as awkward or unprepared as he had at the party, and as Declan took the offered hand with it's thousand-dollar manicure in his own comparatively rough paw, he wondered if Lucien was carrying a silver cake slice on his person.

"Rosalind." He said the name as though savoring it. "Yeah, we met. Nice girl." He grinned, though not too toothily, as he gave Hunt's hand a firm shake. "Pleased to meet ya too. I'm Owns-The-Night, but call me Dec." He tossed his Uratha name in there just to zing the other man, to see if he would be thrown off-balance at all. As a quick follow-up, he smiled crookedly and said "It's good to be received so nicely. I haven't had to duck a single bottle-rocket yet."

Lucien allowed himself a chuckle. He winced slight as his side heaved a bit, but he did a well enough job of not allowing an unseen pain to interrupt his current social dealings. Khaki slack and a black polo shirt were the choices for tonight and Declan noticed a few bruises attempting to hide beneath the short sleeves that covered Lucien's sculpted biceps.

"Owns-The-Night?" He repeated it, as if to speak it himself would allow him better understanding of it. "Tribal, is it not? Proud name for a proud people, Mr Perault." The millionaire slowly walked to collect a drink for himself, a slight limp was obvious by how he tensed his left leg. "We know what the other is, all that's left is to learn what we can from the other but only after deciding whether we're working for each other, or against each other."

The Mastigos kept his back turned, pouring himself a drink while he let the last statement linger in the air.

"Got no beef with you." Declan stood regarding Lucien in that curious way he had, moving only to take a sip of his beer then returning to watchful stillness as the mage got his drink. "Sarah speaks good words about you. Well, she trusts you anyway." he amended with a grin.

He moved with a quiet flowing step over to the desk and turned, leaning against it as he studied Hunt. "Way I see it, we're in a similar situation. Only thing to be decided is like you said. One thing, though. I don't work for anyone. But I will work with you, and others, if it helps me do my duty and don't compromise my honor." He took another sip of his beer: it was pretty damn good. Then he gestured to the younger man. "What the hell happened to you? Did some of those underwear groupies get rough?"

"I don't work for anyone. But I will work with you, and others, if it helps me do my duty and don't compromise my honor." Lucien allowed those words to repeat in his mind. He had to admit that he liked Declan's attitude, if the man was in fact being honest with him. "I couldn't have said it better myself." He smiled, then continued as he dropped an olive in his martini. "Actually I could. I'd have used "doesn't" which is the contraction of "does not"."

He faced Declan and raised his glass in a small toast. "As for the injuries... well, you know how college life is. Man meets woman, asks woman out, they go out, have a great time, woman fails to mention psychotic boy friend and he meets man after the date with a lead pipe and a warning not to go near her again. I have to admit, this college life sure is every bit as rough as they said it would be." He laughed a bit. "But it was so worth it."

Declan's eyebrows went up, then lowered over narrowing eyes. He had little doubt that Lucien was referring to his recent date with Morgan, which meant that the "psychotic boyfriend" was Trent. Hmm. Maybe I can provoke that little shit into trying something similarly stupid with someone that can bite back... He filed that away for later.

He also did not miss the grammar lesson. Part of him bridled at Hunt's superior tone and clearly superior education, but the smarter half of his psyche won out. Doesn't. Right. Got it.

"Y'know, I think I've met that guy." Declan gave Lucien a chill smile. "He's a complete shithead. I'm kinda hoping he decides to come after me with that lead pipe so's I can claim self-defense." ...when I shift to Dalu, take that pipe off him, and make him eat it. was the unspoken finish to that sentence, but even unspoken the emotional content of it hung nicely in the air.

"What gets me is how the fucker can get away with doing that to people that can turn him inside out, or make his dick fall off, or something." Declan asked Lucien with a tilt of his head. "Guess you weren't expecting it, so it's fair."

"I'm not a fighter like you Mr. Perault. When a man hits me with a pipe, I fall, and I lie there." He grinned. "My Arcana are not the 'turning inside out' or anything like that. My magic is the magic of the Mind and Space. Everything from controlling my own mind to the minds of others, and discarding intervening space allowing me spy on, locate, and travel to anywhere on the planet in an instant."

He let that sentence hang for a moment. Sure, a few of those things he wasn't capable of and just saw it in the brochure, but Declan didn't know that. "And all of it's useless when getting clubbed. It's hard to focus after the third or fourth blow to the head."

"You play pool?" He asked, motioning to the pool table with a tilt of his aching head.

Mind control? Neither Declan nor his Wolf much liked the sound of that, and it was obvious in the slight tensing of his posture and the further narrowing of his eyes. Good at keeping his feelings hidden, the male was not. He glanced over at the pool table, then shrugged.

"I've played a bit, yeah. Not as much as you probably have, though." Declan moved towards the table as he smiled tightly. The thought of his mind being controlled at the whim of this Man was a repugnant one to the fiercely wild and independent streak he possessed, which was wide enough to actually be mistaken for his entire personality in dim lighting. "Want me to set them up?" He set his glass on the edge of the table and started to do so, content to have his hands busy so that they weren't thinking about proactively taking steps to prevent Mesmo over there from weaving any mojo on him.

"So. Sarah told me you'd found out somethin' scary about some local types? Something about a conspiracy against us boogeymen? Sounds like somethin' that'll need fighters and thinkers to sort out, maybe?"

Lucien arranged the table placing each of the colored spheres in it's numerical order. The Uratha noticed the way his thoughts seemed focused on the order and the structure of something so simple as a triangle of balls for a game of pool. He had to have everything perfect.

"They're called "The Union" far as I can tell." He said swapping the 13 out for the 6. "I don't think they want conflict with us directly. I think they just want to gather enough information to expose us. They're coding our secrets through books using an old World War Two encryption pattern. It's sloppy, but good enough to fool the 'Average Joe'. I think there is more than meets the eye and I need some more time to investigate it."

Lucien handed the man a pool cue and set some azure chalk on the edge of the table for him. "I've assembled a complete packet for you that will bring you up to speed. The only problem I see so far, is that these 'Union' people don't seem organized enough to gather this sort of information. Something bigger than themselves is pulling their strings, and I don't think they're aware of it."

There was something familiar about this scene for him: talking over serious, even deadly matters whilst busying the hands on some idle past-time. Many evenings had been spent this way in his Army days, playing cards or shooting pool (if facilities allowed: cards was more likely in the field) whilst talking over enemy capabilities and tactics, or complaining/speculating about what the top brass were up to. Leaning over the table, Declan took the break. The sharp crack of the cue meeting the ball punctuated Lucien's last statement as the werewolf mulled it over. He watched the balls ricochet around the baize, not really following their progress.

"If they've got that much information, where are they getting it from? It'd be one thing if a vampire, or some twisted Uratha were selling out, mebbe to settle a score. But to get good data on all of our kinds?" He looked over at Lucien. "You ain't kidding about something bigger behind this. It has to be."

He paced around the table. "Your shot, and other than giving you time to do some more decrypt work, do you need anything from me?"

"As far as I can tell, no Mr. Perault." He leaned in and lined up a shot. "That's not to say I think I can do all this on my own. That's not it at all. I'm just a firm believer that too many cooks...," he looked up and rolled his hand over in a winding motion. "Broth, all that. You get the idea I'm sure."

The cue slammed into the cue ball and the clatter of the table was the only thing heard in the room for a moment. "I'm keeping a detailed log of all of my actions and discoveries. The places I go, the people I see, etcetera. It's never with me, I keep here at home and I run a file transfer from my laptop to my PC here at home, so it stays current. Should something happen to me Mr. Perault you and Sarah will have all you need to pick up where I left off. I've left instructions with Rosalind to permit you access to the drive I keep it stored on. The password is: "Mnemosyne". The titan who was the personification of memory."

His second shot did go as planned and left the cue perfectly sitting for Declan to make a one of those simple shots that casual players of the game ever so enjoy. With a moan of displeasure as his competitive side refused to accept that he didn't clear the table in a single turn, Lucien leaned against the wall.

"But, this only half of why we are here. I wish to know about you and your people and in return I offer you a fair trade, everything I know about what I am. We'll keep our secrets secret if you wish, but I would like to know more about my allies."

Declan considered that for a long moment, his attention on Lucien as he idly twirled the pool cue in his hands. The air around the werewolf was still, but for that slight motion, for a long moment. Finally he nodded.

"Okay then." He moved to take the easy shot left to him, then swiftly potting a second ball before missing the third. Lucien noted that the werewolf played on instinct and impulse, relying on hand-eye coordination and taking the table as it came rather than planning his next move or trying to control the flow. As Lucien came forward to take his turn, Declan glanced around the room, then back at him.

"I can't and won't tell you everything, because the secrets aren't only mine. But I will tell you enough to help you understand us. That sound fair?"

"Fair enough Mr. Perault." Lucien said politely with a slight nod. "And please understand, it's not my intention to pry, although I'm indeed curious, it's just I feel if we are to aid one another then we must, as you put it, understand one another."

As they played that game of pool out, and the one following, Declan laid out a basic primer on the People. He told the same tale to Lucien as he had told to Morgan: how Father Wolf had fallen in love with the Moon, Luna, and they had had children. How the primal Eden had fallen due to the necessary actions of the First Pack, and the resultant curse from their Mother. Lastly he explained the Duty: the responsibility borne by the Uratha for holding the two worlds together yet guarding the boundary.

"Way it was explained to me, the Shadow and the Real world need each other to survive. Over there is where the intangible stuff of this world is real. Without the Shadow, we wouldn't have all the stuff that makes life worth living: love, laughter... y'know, emotions. Soul." Declan shrugged as he took another shot. "But we can't have the two worlds totally together neither. There's all sorts of spirits out there that would like to treat humanity and other real world critters as playthings and food and shit. So we keep the fences up, but not too high."

He paused and drained the last of his beer then glanced at Lucien, a grin playing around his mouth. "Got any questions so far?"

"No." He nodded, slightly impressed with such a well spun tale, and still in the process of taking it all in. "None so far. Although, it's funny, the Uratha through time are always portrayed as monsters. I find it rather astonishing to learn that they are a species separate from humanity yet working behind the curtain, as it were, to protect the very people who've demonized them for centuries."

He nodded slightly and politely half-bowed to Declan. "Very noble, indeed. It would seem we owe your people much."

A slight rap at the door stole the away the attention in the room as Rosalind entered softly, not wanting to interrupt any conversations taking place. When she was sure she wasn't intruding, she smiled her alluring smile and stated. "Everything is prepared Master Hunt." She swept her arms slowly through the door way. "If you and Mr. Perault would follow me."

The scent of the meal was as intoxicating as woman who cooked it. As the gentleman were seated she played her role professional Housekeeper, and Lucien continued to hide his rolling eyes thinking, If only Declan knew the way it really was around here, she's incorrigible.

She placed Declan's meal in front of him and filled his glass with another beer. Two hundred and five ounces (that's 12 pounds) of perfectly prepared steak and all the trimmings assaulted Declan's nostrils and he was pretty sure that his unborn next of kin was going to be born salivating.

The Host's steak was no where near as big, in fact he had more vegetables than meat on his plate. Lucien tipped up his glass in a toast after Rosalind had left the dining room. "To new friendships, and to defending those who can not defend themselves."

Declan's silver eyes followed the voluptuous housekeeper from the room, then turned back to his host, nostrils flaring ever so slightly as he took in the mixed scents of Rosalind and steak. Now there's a linked response that could get outta hand the werewolf thought as he picked his beer glass up, raising it in answer to Lucien's toast. He drank as Lucien did, then set the glass down and attacked his steak.

Though he was using a knife and fork, didn't drool, and didn't get food everywhere, his table manners were not exactly couth. About 1.6 seconds from the beer glass being set down, a chunk of meat larger than bite size was cut from the steak and already disappearing into the hungry Uratha's mouth. Strong white teeth sheared through the meat every bit as efficiently as the knife had, and Declan let out a low yet reverberant growl of contentment as the juices ran over his tongue. Then he blinked, aware of what he had done.

Just fucking great. Have a civil conversation with the guy for about an hour, then sit down at a table with red meat on it and all of a sudden I'm acting like a sideshow freak! Declan's eyes fixed on Lucien as he took a second, then third slow chew of the mouthful of steak. Fighting anger and embarrassment, feeling oafish and clumsy, he swallowed.

"Sorry." The apology tasted sour in his mouth. "I'm hungry, and the steak is fu- damn good. Never was much of one for table manners." He took a swig of beer, then carved a decidedly smaller slice of steak off and popped it into his mouth. Embarrassed or not, he was hungry.

"Think nothing of it Mr. Perault." Lucien politely smiled and he was certainly sincere enough. "You're among friends, not judges."

The men took some time to eat their meal, Lucien managing one bite for every five or so of Declan's. With plenty of food left on his plate Lucien took a few moments to digest. "I wish I could tell you about me Declan, but the truth is I don not know anything about what I am, or what I'm capable of. I know very little, but I'd be willing to help you and your allies providing the intent behind your actions remains in the best interest of the Code of Honor you follow."

Declan chewed another mouthful of steak and washed it down with beer. "That's some commitment you're offerin', Mr Hunt." Silver eyes gazed down the table at the lord of the manor as white teeth flashed in a tight smile. "So you really don't know much about your kind, then?" At Lucien's rueful shake of the head, Declan tilted his own head to one side and looked curiously at the younger man.

"Well, maybe I can help a little. Heard a story a little while ago about your people. Like mine, it sounds like one part myth to two parts truth. Can't be sure, though. Heard it from another m-... one like you." Declan glanced around warily. "How safe from pryin' ears are we here? Before I carry on."