One of the Pack?

Grisly Bar

Worn wooden floors stained with ages of spilled drinks (and worse), creak under the feet of patrons as they enter the dark, disordered room. Though dust has settled over a lot of the establishment, making it appear abandoned, the flow of customers would speak differently. Dirty glasses, some with sticky yellow patches in the bottom where beer or scotch has been allowed to dry, stand on one end of the bar.
Several of the windows have been bricked up to prevent vandalism, but create a great fire-hazard. There is a tarnished mirror on the wall behind the bar with a chipped and fading Art Nouveau nymph painted across the bottom.

The management of the Grisly Bar has been shut down for the afternoon, taken over from its usual pre-opening rituals so that the select core of individuals can do their business freely. And standing in the midsts of the young, gruff men that flank him happens to be a very stony-faced Eli Donato. Now, there is nothing to denote his superiority, no emblem or badge meriting him with a position of high respect - and yet it's fairly obvious to anyone who manages to lay eyes on him that he is, without a doubt, the one in charge. It's something about the way he holds himself - the general military precision with which his head is held high. At the moment, he is the only one of the handful that is sitting, a glass of scotch found in his hand.

Nolcha has been given the address. Nolcha has been given the time. Now, it's up to Nolcha to arrive.

Nolcha had in fact been given all those things and she's prompt to arrive as well, light footsteps on the steps that lead from the loft above the bar. Her hair has been twisted into a coil at the base of her neck and she's dressed in her usual outfit of a leather skirt and sleeveless shirt. Alert as she reaches the bottom step she lifts her head slightly, tasting the air almost. To say that she doesn't need to ask who is charge might be the understatement of the year, but she approaches Eli in a respectful manner one not meant to challenge.

Eli does not recognize the newcomer, and in accordance to that, none of the other werewolves acknowledge her existence either, shot of staring at her fiercely. They all seem to be waiting, waiting for Eli's reaction. On his part, he's a bit busy throwing back the alcohol and indulging in that pleasant burning.

"Yeehaw, that thing burns." The man drawls with a decidedly wolfish grin upon his features. Slamming the empty glass upon the table, he then swivels in his stool, fixing his gaze upon Nolcha with cool, calculated grace. "So, you're the one huh?" With a grunt, he hoists himself to his feet. "What're you doing, girly girl? This here pack aint no place for you. You're too damn…pretty." Somehow, the veteran manages to turn that compliment into something to be ashamed of, his toothy grin mocking rather then reassuring. "We're soldiers, not housepets. I don't think you're ready for this level of self-sacrifice."

Nolcha is patient enough, only tapping one foot ever so slightly, almost at the pace of a slow tail wag. Finally she is acknowledged and she lets the bit of a smile grace her lips at the insult. "I'm the one." comes the assurance, as if Eli hadn't had her pegged already. "I think I'm strong enough to run with your pack, regardless of my 'prettiness'." her words are firm, but light as if she's holding her tongue. "Just because I chose to dress well doesn't mean I'm a whimpering poodle." her eyes raise for a moment, a flash in them "I'm staying, and I'd rather do it proper in your pack."

Eli, hulking as he is, takes a step forward. And then another, until he stands directly in front of Nolcha. That smile, mocking as it is, has disappeared in favor of a stony, humorless purse of his lips. She is examined. She is looked over from head to toe, in the most invasive manner possible. Finally, noting the strength of her will to stay, he lets out a sound that resembles a snarl and begins his pacing once again. "The price will be steep," he growls in her direction, something feral in his eyes. "If you are positive that this is the path you want to take, then be prepared to be hurt. This is not a goddamn fraternity. We're not all in it for the fun, or the companionship, or any of that bullshit. But if you can…if you are willing, then you will be welcomed among the elite. You will be My Sister."

Beat. "You will be tasked with the preservation of all life, are you aware of this? Of protecting the city and its people, no matter how impossible the mission? You will be charge with complete, unfaltering obedience to me, regardless of your puny wants and desires."

Nolcha's breathing is slow, measured as she feels Eli's eyes upon her. Resisting the urge to curl her own lip at him she manages to stay still, for the most part calm though its almost as if she's always poised for movement anyway. "I need direction. I have my life, my singing but it has become merely a hobby for me. To take on this task would give me purpose of a greater kind, it would give me reason to find those who would kill and maim hundreds with silver shrapnel at a parade, regardless of who it was for." there is a bite to her words, the faint scars redden for a moment at her agitation. She takes a breath, a calming one or one that merely allows her to gather words. "I want very little, my obedience will come with my acceptance into the pack. I am no rogue, I know pack law."

Eli is still, unmoving, like he had been chiseled from unforgiving stone. Finally, the man awards her with the briefest of nods. Turning away, he turns to the quartet of his finest wolves. "You bear witness to what she said. She's willing to be tested, to be harmed. When she is crying to herself, take note of this. I am not a cruel tyrant. I'm just the sick son of a bitch charged with keeping you maggots alive out there." Sniff. Returning to his stool, he waves his hand in Nolcha's direction, almost a dismissal. "You may not agree with me, but if you pass your test, girly girl, you will grow to respect me. Just remember. My word is law. Sunday night, expect visitors." And, that's all the instruction she will be given.

Nolcha doesn't exactly wilt when Eli's attention is finally less focused on her but there is a lessening of the tension within her body. "When I pass you'll know there's more to me than being able to shop somewhere other than the local walmart." her words have a sharp edge to them but its buffered by the bright smile offered to Eli and the rest of his crew. "Sunday, any particular wardrobe required?" she knows better but she can't help it the words slipping out, though once they are she awaits the answer with interest.

"Whatever you don't mind throwing to the fire afterwards. Now, get the hell out of here before I start to take your interest as anything other then strictly professional." It's a drawl from Eli, completely disinterested, as he fetches a half-empty pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. "Who's got a light?"

Nolcha snorts, yes she does. "I'll be back later if you're still around. My set starts a few hours after opening." with that she turns towards the stairs that lead back up to her loft. At the base she pauses to make sure there are no more comments or directions though.

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