[Rene Vitalli]

*So this was Chicago. Dark eyes skate the park as she sits perched on the back of a bench, a cigarette dangling from between her lips. A hot dog vendor is fixing her a Chicago-dog, complete with poppy-seed bun. She's let her protective mantle of anonymity slip from her shoulders. Long enough to secure her hot dog anyway. No point in trying to be forgotten when you're waiting to be given food.*
[Wharil Choc]

Oh, but wasn't the weather sweet today? 71 degrees, 5 miles per hour winds, and just enough clean white fluffy clouds to occasionally take away the sting of the sun. Grant Park wasn't 'concert in Grant Park' crowded, but it was summer. School was out and stay-cations were being taken. Children were playing and their parents were wrangling them, and the Park was positively alive.

And with her own veil lowered, Rene was open to approach by those that didn't notice how frighteningly beautiful she really was. The homeless man, for instance, dressed in layers of rags and a tattered US ARMY jacket, who approached with a perpetually cupped hand and droned in a gravvely, cracked voice.

"Morningma'amsorrytobotheryousparesomechangeforahungrywarvetgodblessyouthanks"

He keeps his eyes down and hand cupped, broken man that he is, and waits for the feeling of coins in his fingerless gloves,
[Rene Vitalli]

*Rene regards the man unblinkingly, expression cold. A drag off her cigarette as she stands, slides a hand into the pocket of dark jeans and approaches the hotdog vendor to receive her food. One hand thrusts out for the hotdog, the other jerked forward with a handful of bills. The uncomfortable vendor makes change, and Rene moves back to the bench.* Here. *She murmurs softly, opening her hand so the war veteran can take the remaining change from her. A small brown park spider crawls down her arm towards the cash, as if it too needing change.*

[Wharil Choc]
As soon as coins meet the man's palm the cup closes tightly, "Thankyouma'amgodblessyou." the the hungry vet drones and he shuffles on over to the hot dog stand.

There's another man there. A man with noticeably ruddy skin and curly hair, dressed in slacks and a starched white shirt; short sleeves for the summer. He hadn't been there a moment ago. Or perhaps he had been there and Rene simply didn't notice him. He was certainly noticeable now, though. The way he eyed the old war vet as he staggered forward asking for a hot dog in that rushed, monotonous way. There was a brief exchange between the vendor and the beggar. Brief and harsh.

"Hey, its okay." Renee could hear the man saying in a mish-mash of accents. "I'll pay for it. Get him a coke too. Matter of fact, make his the same as mine. Con todo, n'est-ce pas?"

The vendor glared slightly at the man in the white shirt, who was staring intently at the ragged war vet.

((Perc+Awareness?))

[Wharil Choc]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
((What's that I see? Perc+Awareness))

[Rene Vitalli]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 5, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)
(per aware)

[Wharil Choc]
Two things become blaringly obvious. The first came from the man with the white shirt. He was standing relatively still, and yet there seemed to be a vibe from him. Literally, a vibration, as if for a split second he were bouncing in all directions at once, and littering the summer air with a tinge of magic.

The other thing was the old veteran's posture. His constantly cupped hands dropped to his sides and he seemed to relaxe, even stretching his neck the way people do after sleeping in one position too long.

"Thankyousirgodbless" He drones. The man in the white shirt only smiles as they wait for their hot dogs."

[Rene Vitalli]
*An eyebrow arcs skyward, Rene straightening as she senses something off about the curly haired man tending to the war vet. She stares at him unflinchingly, expression vaguely unpleasant. Eyes flick from him to the Vet, and she stands, moving to face Wharil as she gets another napkin from the cart.* What did you just do? *Straight to the point this one, voice a murmur as she butts her smoke on the cart despite the protest of the vendor.*

[Rene Vitalli]
*Rene is, well - notable. She feels like crawling impending destruction. The coalescing of magic around her is unpleasant to say the least. Hostile. And while it doesn't feel twisted or corrupted, it does make for a somewhat lacking first impression. She shakes a spider off a napkin and takes a bite of her hotdog, waiting for Wharil's response.*

[Wharil Choc]
"I'm sorry?" He says in response, though his eyes dart occasionally, simultaneously intrigued by the woman and desperately avoiding her gaze. He was bullshitting, but badly.

The two men get their dogs and, as if planning it, they move together back to the bench, approaching from different ends. The vet sits in the center, and the man in the white shirt sits to his right. And while the vet eagerly munches at his hot dog con todo Wharil can't help but take occasional glances at Rene.

[Rene Vitalli]
*She watches him. Unabashedly watches him. eating her hotdog at the Vendor stand. She had felt him do something to the hobo, and now she was watching to see what exactly he was intending on doing. Perhaps no one has ever told her that its impolite to stare as though you're about to crawl into someone's mouth and lay eggs in their belly. She's not pretty, she just looks that way. Wharil's nervousness is noted and filed away.*

[Wharil Choc]
"Maybe you'd like to join us?" Wharil says, still unable to completely ignore Rene.

The hobo isn't as easily distracted. He's chewing fervently at what few teeth he has left, obviously enjoying his hot dog if the grunts and approving nods of his head were any indication.

[Rene Vitalli]
*She moves over and sits on the edge of the bench, looking the hobo up and down before looking over top of his head and murmuring* You didn't answer my earlier question. I would appreciate it if you did. *There's a delay between the words leaving her mouth and the mechanical smile she affects. Barely a curve of dark lips.*

[Wharil Choc]
"I bought a man a hot dog." He said simply.
"Muchappreciatedsirgodblessyou" the beggar said while staring off into space.
"A little kindness can go a long way."

He pulled the napkin back from his hot dog and started eating.

"My name's Wharil, by the way. And this is...What's your name, buddy?"

"Lance corpral King, Sir!" Its the first thing the man says that isn't a murmered groan, but a disciplined shout, down to the clip he adds to saying 'sir'. Wharil smiles amused. The two eat their hot dogs."

[Rene Vitalli]
*Her eyebrow raises as she looks from the vet to Wharil.* You know well thats not what I meant. I am Rene. *Yes, introductions were in order. And so she gives one coldly, finishing her hotdog and dabbing her mouth with the napkin. She rises to put her trash in a nearby can, moving with grace and efficiency. She's an athletic woman, that much is clear. Wharil is given a once over, before she jerks her head to corporal Lance King.* I will give you fifty dollars if you will leave us now. *She produces 2 twenties and a 10, holding it aloft.*

[Wharil Choc]
The bills are practically snatched out of her hands and the vet is shuffling off as fast as his stiff legs can carry him.

Wharil frowns as he walks away, but makes no motion to stop him.

"I really wish you hadn't done that. Take it easy, Corporal King!"

[Rene Vitalli]
I really wish you had made an effort to answer my question Wharil. *She sits back down, raising a hand in a wave to the old veteran, without paying attention to whether he looks back or not. Dark eyes peer at him questioningly from an attractive face.* I've recently arrived in Chicago, and as of yet, you are the first contact I have made. Please don't deny the effect you just worked. *Rene doesn't make overt threats. I fact, it may well not even be a threat. She didn't say "or I'll..." Perhaps its just her attitude that threatens impassive violence.*

[Wharil Choc]
He looks back at Rene for a moment. Perhaps he was sizing her her up, or considering whether or not he could trust her. Maybe he just couldn't look away from her face.

"Alright then. I won't." He pops the tab on his coke, taking a sip. "That was just a little something to put him at ease, really. You see his hands? His shoulders and joints? See the way he walks all stiff and says as much as he can with as little effort? I've seen that before. There's a disease eating at his nervous system. Corporal King is not long for this world. I thought to myself, this one bit of kindness might be his last."

He shrugs, and takes another long drink of his coke.

[Rene Vitalli]
That was nice of you. *She states quietly, drawing a hand to her hairline and pushing her hair off her face.* If he dies soon perhaps that fifty will make him more comfortable. *The idea of the hobo dying doesn't bother her apparently. But the fact that it doesn't does. A delayed frown, barely a downward curl of her lips. A large black spider begins to make its way from the back of the bench down Wharil's shoulder. Rene snaps her hand forward and flicks it off of him.*

[Wharil Choc]
His eyes flick to the flying spider and he chuckles. To himself? Certainly. But it also seemed he was chuckling at Rene as well.

"So, here's me taking a risk."

He slides his right hand toward her in the expectant handshake position.

"Wharil Choc. Euthanatos. Formerly of the Bleak House Marabout in Charleston."

[Rene Vitalli]
A pleasure. *She murmurs in response, taking his hand in her own. She's got a warm solid grip. Delicate looking hands calloused and surprisingly strong.* The risk appreciated. Rene Vitalli. Fellow Enthanatoi. Also currently without a marabout. My partner and I travelled too much. *Her hand is withdraw as she dissects him with her eyes.* Wharil Choc.

[Wharil Choc]
"That's my name." He says cheerfully. "I doubt you've heard of me. Is your partner in the city with you?"

There were other questions there, like what she meant by partner exactly. He doesn't ask these, but he looks for the answers anyway, now sizing her up in earnest.

[Rene Vitalli]
We parted ways. He was becoming ineffective and over-involved. It was unpleasant. *She murmurs blandly, transferring something from the back of her neck to the back of the bench idly. She's appraised Wharil like he were abstract art. Taking in a more relaxed demeanor and less cautious tone.* His name is Haziz Alkatib. He is better known in Europe. Where is Charelston?

[Wharil Choc]
"South Carolina. Mmm...South east united states, if that helps. Haziz Alkatib, eh? Never heard of him, but I suppose that's the idea, huh?"

He finishes his coke, and after that he bends the tab slightly, then flicks at it with his thumb making a buzzing percussive sound. Rene might notice he wasn't exactly nervous anymore, but he was certainly fidgety. He seemed to have a hard time keeping still, and before he was making that sound with the coke tab his leg was shaking.

"I'm told there's a chantry here in the city. Mixed elements. Little or no leadership. Its a big city and...well, i think we could both use the company. When I find it, would you like me to let you know? I mean, would you be willing to go there?"

[Rene Vitalli]
Yes. I've had rather.. limited experience.. with the others. *She states matter of fact, reaching into a pocket to withdraw a pen and notepad. Her voice confident and clipped, but soft. A strange dichotomy, but perhaps no stranger than the woman herself.* This is my number. I'm in a hotel at the moment. But soon I'll find a more permanent home. You're fidgetting Wharil. *Her eyes snap from the annoying coke can noise to his face.*

[Wharil Choc]
"Hm? Oh. Sorry. I do that sometimes."

He stops fiddling with the coke can and is still for a few seconds. Then his knee starts to bounce again. Wharil takes the number and gives it a glance, then folds it neatly to put it in his pocket.

"I'll be in touch. Soon."

[Rene Vitalli]
*Its a moment before she remembers to curve her lips into a ghost of a smile, extending a hand again, though her head slowly tilts and she looks at the bouncing leg like she might casually snap it off and throw it in a fountain. She'd shake his hand and rise.* I look forward to it. Thank you. Really. *And done that, she turns and stalks through the park, leaving Wharil to contend with the several spiders that scurry along the bench, confused in the wake of her presence.*