Logs:January Meetup 2022
Starring: Nicholas, Roux, Niamh, Walter
NPCs: Tiny Toe Tracy, Gonzalo Lopez, Kyle Cooper, and Zach Perry
Vittorio's Ristorante Italiano has a few people milling about in front of it, but as they gague whether the windowless, dark green and terracotta-roofed painted facade is actually open, they'll find a "Reserved for private event" sign on a sandwich board. And it's all they really need to keep the nosy people out.
The place isn't truly windowless, at least, not for the building overall, but the first floor is, leaving whatever may happen within safe from the peering eyes of mortals on the street.
Gonzalo Lopez, the Filipino Baron of Ventrue stock, is standing with his shoulder against one of the many carved wood columns that separate the gallery of booths. He's speaking to the Hells Angel aligned Nosferatu biker, Tiny Toe Tracy, whose white doc martens and biker jacket with its studded shoulders and HAMC insignia barely ever change. She's wearing her mask, since she botherd to 'put it on' coming here, and she sure as shit isn't going to re-expend the effort to slap back on her countenance intended for public consumption. Then there's Kyle Cooper, in the business casual threads of someone well to do, seated at the long table (that is really a shitload of separatable little tables) as he watches. Zack, a ghoul of Tracy's, is standing by Gonzalo and Tracy, looking distraught as he speaks. "...Right in the head, Lopez, just dead like /that/."
Niamh is taking her time becoming accustomed to the fashion of the current century. It still doesn't make sense to her, and, being the born pirate that she is, she can't help but fashion things to her own peculiar tastes. Tonight, it's rainbow leggings, a furry skirt, and a tshirt with an inane, pithy saying about it being time for wine. There's also a hat and stilettos involved. And of course a fur because she saw people wearing coats. Lucky for her, she has the leggy grace and serious figure to suggest she didn't choose these clothes, some designer made the mistake for her. Naturally, she walks in like her men are busy looting the town, and she's decided to raid the wealthiest manor, but all she finds herself in is a strange place that smells like old memories. She immediately looks for her sire.
Walter has to duck his head under the doorframe to get into the establishment, and he strides in. He looks skeptically at the chairs available, but he selects one that seems like it might be in good enough condition to bear his frame. He pulls it out from the long sectioned table so he can fit, and then proceeds to sprawl in it, elbow on the armrest. Despite being a randomly selected middle section of the table, he manages to look like a warlord in his throne. He nods to Niamh and gestures her towards a seat next to him.
The door opens up and in steps Nicholas. Once he's inside, he stuffs the hand he opened the door with back in his pocket. He looks around calmly and he nods to Walter and Niamh, then finds himself a place to sit that's not too crowded but has his back to the wall if all those seats haven't been taken already.
As Walter sweeps into the place, or rather, ducks inside, Gonzalo looks, as well as Kyle. The ghoul seems a touch upset that he can't continue to speak, but he knows his place in the grand scheme of things is that of a second class citizen, and so he weathers the interruption. "Walter, you look very much like yourself," Gonzalo observes aloud, making a particular point, here. "I'm not going to see you come around here wearing a wanted face as tall as you are a second time, am I?"
Niamh spots Walter easily enough, and soon takes the seat at his side. She's too small to sprawl, but she certainly doesn't shrink herself prim and proper. Now's not the time to act the little lady, so she asserts herself as much as ever she has, leaning and elongating. Her keen eyes meanwhile roam the room, attracted quickly to the man addressing her sire, it seems to her somewhat sternly.
Walter rumbles from his seat, and with a raise of his brow, he asks, "Didn't that get sorted out already? This city is beset with problems frop the tippy tops of the skyscrapers down to the deepest caves. But if I have to spend time dealing with the herding the pigs, I will pause saving you all from your oncoming demise to do it."
Nicholas looks between Gonzales and Walter as the two men have an exchange.
"No," Gonzalo says, fighting off a half-smile in some confusion that visibly wonders where Walter got such an idea. "I don't think that the Major Crimes unit decides that they'll call off a case just because it's been a while. A fugitive is a fugitive, Walter. I can't puppeteer SFPD, I can just try to get you out before dawn. But I shouldn't have to, and you know that." He's a pleasant guy, Baron Lopez, because he doesn't believe he needs to be rude or crass to make his point. Or to enforce it, either. That's for the lackeys to worry about. "We're talking about you saving you from your own self."
Niamh was starting to frown at the way the stranger addressed her sire, but Walter's reply eases her mind. She thought, for a moment, that someone might be trying to assert authority or something. But no, all is right. She does aside to Walter, "Are there caves? Show me the caves later." She's less concerned about the whole "wanted" thing because, hahahaha, isn't that just a Tuesday? "What did you do?" she does ask him, curious is all.
Walter answers the lady first, "Nothing major. No one important died." He turns back to Lopez, frowning slightly and sounds a little surprised as he says, "You can't? I knew that it was bad here, but are we really that weak?" Apparently, he has taken the claim that the SFPD cannot be puppeteered to be a dangerous admission. He strokes his beard, "Clearly I will have to exert more effort in this matter than I originally supposed if we are in such dire straits."
Nicholas says, "Maybe you need to take up a new hobby, like learning how to change your face?"
"Not for people who won't take the basic steps that could help themselves, especially when it's part of their natural undead talents," Lopez says. "You get out what you put in, Walter." As he talks, he moves to sit with Kyle at the table. "And so far, you're just giving lip. You're still forty thousand in debt. Not even bothering to do what I know you're perfectly capable of is not a good look." He looks to Niamh. "People who were important to their families died at Platinum nightclub. Walter left blood and handprints at the crime scene and then he did some other things that pissed off the Tower." Now so he dismisses Walter, or the subject of him, by turning his attention to Nicholas, the newest face. "So Kyle tells me we got a new guy rolling into town," he says, looking Nicholas over. He stands, then offers his hand for a shake. "Welcome to San Francisco."
Nicholas gets to his feet and return with a firm handshake "Thank you for the warm welcome and allowing me to join in the fight here."
"You're gonna just let that dude be that smug and sit here?" Tracy asks, as she eyeballs the exchange. The way Walter sits, the implications he made. "Yo, Walter." She looks to the man. "You think you're so much better than us, then leave. But last I checked, none of us were one fuckup away from a blood hunt, or on cop databases."
Niamh almost scowls at Lopez. Having one's own issues with one's sire does not matter when it's a stranger having issues with him. "And?" she says, as if the description of Walter's crimes isn't enough to bother with. She rolls her eyes as he moves on. No one told her she needed to be diplomatic. "The world's gone completely soft now," she says to Walter. "Every little thing is cause for losing your wig."
Lopez shaks hands with Nicholas. "Happy to have you. We're in some interesting times, with this serial killer and the hunters and all this nonsense, I'm hoping to hash out a plan." He lets go, and then looks to Niamh. He lifts his eyebrows when he hers Niamh's 'and'. "And I don't help people who can't convince me why I should bother helping them. Now, what ray of sunshine do I have the pleasure of meeting, miss...?" He lifts a hand to quiet Tracy's inquiry, but he does afford it an answer, if a passing one: "Yes, I'm going to let him get his comments out of his system until they get old. They're getting there."
Walter shrugs at Tracy, rather than replying or casting his own aspersions. Instead, he suggests, "We should stay away from the serial killer. My own observations and what the little birdies have been peeping in my ears suggest to me that it is a golem constructed by the money-mancers who live in the tall towers. I don't know if it is a rogue automaton or some kind of fiendish trap, but I have heard some of the Tower's heavy hitters both gave it a thumping and nearly got carved into pieces by lightsabers."
Walter, vampire, viking, and star wards nerd.
"Niamh le Rapace, ne Bourke of the O'Malley Clan," Niamh replies, "Sea-Witch." She at least says it with the air of one who knows every last bit of that may be meaningless in present company. "Walter is my sire and one-time captain. I recently woke." She looks past Lopez at the scowling Tracy. "I see you feel yourselves having reason to blame him for something bothersome. I feel as though I'm in nervous company." She keeps any scorn out of her voice so as to toe the line between abrasive and palatable. "But he's managed thus far in life, hasn't he? These many, many centuries." Again she asides to walter, "'Serial killer'?" as if the term is weird and amusing.
Nicholas says, "I'm still catching on to all the recent action, but Walter has given me something of a rundown, and a little time with the newspapers has also done me some good. By serial killer, I assume you mean the Fort Point killer?"
Tracy remains standing next to Zach, her eyes on Walter, her disdain restrained but still clear. She eventually looks away, towards Niamh when she introduces herself. "Welcome back to what's left of the living," Lopez tells Niamh, offering a handshake. "I feel myself explaining to Walter that his problems still persist and should not be ignored. I feel myself unmotivated to help him. He is smart enough to know what he can do to change that, and we will see if he does. These many, many centuries have changed the priorities and standards of humans as well as their ability to hunt us down. It's gotten far, far worse. So, being an item of interest by the police, while not exactly the end of the world, is still no pleasant time." Then he engages in the subject of the serial killer. "Yeah, we got some interesting insights on that one," Lopez tells Nicholas, then he looks to Walter. "Little birdies." And then he clearly has a hard time following the logic trail. "...Last I knew, Scarpia was a piece of vermicelli, no DiMaggio. Him and that prospector. You talking about them?"
Walter nods, "Supposedly he watched while the other one attacked it. They ran away but it didn't chase them far. If you have interests with the homeless in that area, move them away if you haven't already."
"Listen, whatever fucking fucko shit is out there," Cooper speaks up from his spot at the table, "It's like Walter says. It's not our problem. Let the Camarilla go play hero squad, if it really is some fuckoff mantis-armed monster." He scoots back in his chair to sit more broadly in it, one arm flipped over the backrest as he leans. It's an overtly casual posture that clashes against the bespoke Bvlgari he wears. Kyle is a White man, of maybe some Italian descent, with his dark, straight hair trimmed to short back and sides. His smiles and consideration seems far more like marketing than sincerity, but he's good at wearing them, and when he talks he projects that voice like a salesman. "Hell, if you're feeling real special, you could maybe find out when they're having their monster bash and sweep in to finish off your favorite folks. But beyond that, I heard that Jeb took two weeks to recover. /Fuck/ that. We got vampire hunters to talk about."
Nicholas listens to Cooper and then Kyle. He's already heard Walter's opinions and decides to add his own "I'm going to side with the idea of working on the things that are trying to kill us. If the serial killer suddenly takes a liking to killing vampires, I'd be willing to revisit that, of course."
Kyle snap-points at Nicholas. "Guy's got brains."
Walter nods to Nicholas, "My thoughts exactly. If they do start hunting us, then we fight. Otherwise, I try to stay out of wizard-wars as I don't know about the factions, and in this matter ignorance is probably healthy." He looks to Lopez and Cooper, "I've passed along some information before. I am sure you have something new to pass back?"
"So get this," Kyle says, and he leans forward in his chair, settling his elbows on the table. "Children of Athanasius is just one moniker these cats go by. They're all over the United States. Ishtar Galatic Order. The Voyagers. The Order Of The Celestial Altar. We aren't wiping out the entire UFO religion that thinks we're reptoids or what the fuck ever. But we're gonna make sure they get the fuck out our city, and then it's each city's own personal problem. There's this guy who flown in from New York. Ehsan Khadem, been here a few weeks. He's all excited about finding the same artifact that these hunters are after. Says it's some kind of Needful Things Monkey's Paw fate-changing item that'll grant these hunters their wishes if they get their hands on it. Insists we get the artifact instead and do the hunters last. Me, I think he just wants to keep the hunters alive so he can follow them to the shit, but I got addresses, I got names, it's a matter of prioritizing who to kill first, and whether we're going to. Could always ghoul a few, throw our loyal little guys back in the pen as Judas goats."
Nicholas perks up "You've got addresses? Security is a specialty of mine, along with getting past it. I'd be glad to put in some hours to the project."
Niamh has fallen silent, mostly due to the fact that this hardly sounds like English to her. 'UFo religion' and 'reptoids' are outside of her vocabulary, but having grown up in parlours and high society, she still remembers how to watch and listen to grow in power. So this is what she does.
Walter nods at Kyle, and says, "The judas goat plan works sometimes. It's a very popular scheme. When it backfires, though, it backfires big - like, Burning Times big. Furthermore, these hunters are the real deal. They have sorcerers, equipment, and demons that empower their faith against us. That protection has a good chance of protecting them from the blood. To ensure your plan has even a chance of success you need to find one that has lost their faith in the whispers of the demons, but still has influence enough for your hook to sink in deep." He remarks, "We should make absolutely sure that the magic doohickey ends up in our hands, or failing that, destroyed. If it is real, or even half as real as they think it is, then it will go bad. We know what the hunters will wish for - but what would some lunatic Tzimisce want? Or worse, Winder. My guess is that she'd just sell it to one of the Warlocks or some Ventrue grandsire older than all of us combined." He considers, "But in terms of prioritization, it may make more sense to eradicate the local hunter sect before they get any closer to finding it."
"Addresses, emails, phone numbers," Kyle says. "It's a bunch of shit needs sifting through but we lifted it out of some financials and donations and all that. Step two, prioritizing who and what to execute, step three, execution, literal and figurative." He makes a sweeping gesture with his hand. "Khadem is an interesting addition to the situation," Lopez says, as Tracy watches on in silence, looking first to Zach, then back to the gathered vampires. "He's highly motivated to get his hands on the Author and a relic supposedly meant to activate it called The Muse, and we're uniquely positioned to earn the gratitude of an Assamite scholar..." He lets Walter speak on the situation. "Seems real enough to get this old guy's attention. I've already reached out to him to arrange a bid through Lopez Imports to recover it. How he performs in regards to us will determine if we deliver it or if something unfortunate happened in its recovery, is my plan."
Vittorio's Ristorante Italiano has a few people milling about in front of it, but as they gague whether the windowless, dark green and terracotta-roofed painted facade is actually open, they'll find a "Reserved for private event" sign on a sandwich board. And it's all they really need to keep the nosy people out.
The place isn't truly windowless, at least, not for the building overall, but the first floor is, leaving whatever may happen within safe from the peering eyes of mortals on the street.
The gathering of Anarchs is small: Kyle Cooper in his business casual, Gonzalo Lopez in his simple duds, Tracy and her ghoul Zach standing by, and the trio arranged with them: Niamh, Walter and Nicholas, the newest face in the bay.
Nicholas says, "The Author?" He raises a brow "I don't think I know much about him. Her? It?"
Walter considers, "Is this Khadem one of the Judges who have fled to the Camarilla?" He murmers, "If we're going to sell it, selling it to one of them is better than a Warlock. But not.. much better. To put it another way - would you sell this guy a nuke?" He says to Nicholas, "It's the name that everyone is calling this artifact."
Roux grumbles to itself noisily as it enters Vittorio's restaurant, a large beanie and scarf obscuring most of their features from the occasional passerby. The figure is broad shouldered, a feature that is only exacerbated by the heavy, padded overcoat it wears, and it is forced to awkwardly shuffle sideways to enter the restaurant through the rather narrow door. As the door clicks shut, the figure shakes itself as if loosening up it's muscles, finally relaxing in the closest thing to a "safe-space" in this part of town. "Sup?" It utters in a guttural tone, pulling down its scarf to reveal a ravaged face full of pockmarks, stretched skin, and rent flesh. "Sorry for being tardy."
"That monkey's paw thing," Kyle says, "It's basically the Pulp Fiction briefcase at this point for all I care, because I don't care what it is or what it does so much as I care that they want it. But!" Kyle presses a finger down onto the tabletop, "You can ask that cat Khadem all the questions you like, he'll give you a fucking three hour ear beating /all/ about it. You want I should give you his number?" And then, the door swings open. He looks, as does Tracy and Gonzalo. Tracy's lips are as thin as a crack in an egg, but she smiles broad all the same, giving Roux a tour of her candy corn quality teeth. She's wearing her Mask, but her Mask is not exactly out to /impress/ you. "Heyyy, fucker!"
"Would I /sell/ someone a nuke? Yes." Lopez nods, then lifts his head just a touch higher than it was a moment ago, letting those wavy curls of his fall out of his face and back to his shoulders. "Would I /complete a transaction/? No."
Nicholas says, "Author, huh? Like write your own story. Interesting name."
Walter nods to Kyle, "Sure, I'll talk to Khadem about it." He nods to Lopez, replying, "Good." Then he says, a bit more generally, "I don't honestly know if this thing will even work as a doorstopper, much less a nuclear weapon. But I can tell you definitively that these cultists are extremely well equipped and they are willing to send their people to die in droves to even have a chance at getting a step closer to finding it. I have decided to act as if it was real until I know better on the off chance that they are correct about it's power." He certainly seems more animated about this topic than, say, being a fugitive from some unimportant 'major crimes division'
Nicholas looks up from his thoughts and nods to Kyle "Yeah, give me Khadem's number."
Niamh, in an attempt to start putting these words and confusing concepts into some sort of order, leans in to Walter, and murmurs quietly. For those with super human hearing, her inquiries are nothing extraordinary. She glances towards the door as she speaks softly to Walter, noting Roux with what could be mild curiosity.
Roux strolls up to the gathered Kindred, allowing a smug grin to pass across its lips at Tracey's greeting. "Tiny-toe, what's good? Nice to see you put in some effort to gussy yourself up. You must've known I was comin', eh?" The Nosferatu chuckles at its own joke before, seemingly, remembering that there are others besides its clanmate present. It moves its gaze over the gathering, offering the slightest of nods to remembered faces and newcomers alike, throwing up an awkward wave. "Evenin' folks, sorry to interrupt. Though it's been a while I thought I'd come and offer my two cents, if I'm welcome to. What are we talkin' about?"
"I don't like it," Tracy says. "I don't know why you did it, Zalo, we don't need to be going all the way out there and that Sorcerer's gonna probably have some bullshit up his sleeve, let's just smash the shit out of these hunters and make a bloody example of them instead of trying to play an old damn, halal wizard." Her nose wrinkles at the thought of a ploy that goes over her head.
"Well you can just stay home and focus on your own problems, Tracy," Kyle says, as he snap shis fingers, loud and harsh and twice. From the adjacent kitchen, a mousy woman in a tweed pencil skirt and a frilly linen blouse hurries to cater to her domitor, with hopeful eyes intent on doing what she can. "Pen and paper, doll. And write down Khadem's number on it for me. Twice. Thanks." He shoos her away. Tiny Toe Tracy turns toward Roux, her size 11 Doc Martens scuffling against the terracotta tile. She reaches out to put an arm of camraderie around Roux's shoulder to settle her Anne Coulter facehugger hands on their hideous person. "Well, these kids are talking about playing whack a mole with all the hunters out here. We've got hunters who no shit think that we're an alien menace. Funny as it is, they aren't trying to kill us any less, so we're killing them back, and Kyle and Zalo followed some leads that a couple vampires floated them to get more addresses out of the financials Walter stole back last year. So we got our hit-list. And once they're all nice and ready, I got my own issues I want some help with."
Walter nods to Tracy, "Piece of advice there - the Hunters use warding magic on their safehouses, at least sometimes. They blur your vision so it's harder to aim, and weaken your muscles so you don't hit as hard. When you hit them, bring iron. They don't seem to be able to pray away bullets." He replies, "And I'm willing to help get rid of them." He grins, "After all, I may need some favors returned with this poorly named 'major crimes unit.'"
Niamh snickers faintly at the name of the "unit", herself. "Americans always have seemed to have a penchant for the literal and blunt."
Roux resists Tracey's grip weakly, as the hideous biker pulls her clanmate into a boney embrace. "Well, I can chip in if need be." Roux offers through a grimace, yellow eyes darting uncomfortably towards Tracey as they're pulled in further by the unstoppable grip. It's like watching a hideous, unkempt hover-boat sinking that's capsized and is being dragged down into a particularly awful patch of swamp. It licks its tattered lips with a long, worm-like tongue, hesitating before adding its own opinion. "Have we looked into any other possible solutions other than all-out war? I'll admit, I don't have a great idea of what we're dealing with and? I'll defer to your experience, on that matter." With this, Roux offers a nod of acknowledgement to Walter and his advice. "But I'm sure that there are ways we can undermine them without just throwing a bunch of bodies their way and spilling blood."
Nicholas says, "I appreciate the information -and- the advice, Nothing is more unpleasant than being taken by suprirse, I can tell you that"
"Assassinations don't exactly have to be literal, you -are- right," Lopez says with a nod, after a moment spared to watch the interaction between the Nosfera-two. "But some of these people will have to be taken out. They have some kind of hierarchy of initiation, and the Children of Athanasius are the ones who have gone through the rigorous training that makes them into the threats that Walter describes." He gestures at the Gangrel in question. "So, part of our campaign means finding the initiates before their brainwashing is complete and sending them back to regular society, getting them out of the literal cult." "They found Otsuka," Tracy tells Roux, and to catch up Nicholas and Niamh, she tells them, "Otsuka was a missing Nosferatu the hunters got way back in April or so." But the way the story ends: "Otsuka was basically being used as some kind of relic, some kind of proof to scare their hunters into really believing it's all real. Camarilla confiscated his corpse after that raid on the Lombard house..." Her eyes move to Walter. "...That Major Crimes is probably so interested in. The /fuck/ happened there, Walter?"
Walter replies, "A cell of hunters in a powerfully warded safehouse armed with dragonsbreath ammo and empowered prayers. And my main backup was the Malkavian, Jack. When my scouting of the place took longer than expected as I was forcing my way into the ward, he put out some kind of call like they do, and two of them showed up. The first one was the guy in the leather chaps who started screaming and bashed the door in which fucked up the ambush, and the second one was Zora, who turned up after I got done winning the fight with her hitters, she bogarted Otsuka and the rest of the useful stuff in the house, along with the bodies of the Children I'd finished off."
Roux silently frowns in response to the revelation from Tracy about their missing clanmate, its jaundiced eyes narrowing as it stares into the middle distance. "Well? this is all kinds of fucked up." The Nosferatu pauses for a moment before nodding and turn a glance towards Lopez and Tracey. "Well, I'm not opposed to doing my part. If you need any help trying to bring this all to a close, I'd like to do what I can."
The trio of Anarchs listen to Walter's side of things. Kyle gives Walter a look that bears his own personal suspicions, and Gonzalo files it away with the choice to simply not comment on it beyond, "Well, now you have the information that you've forwarded to us. Wards, wizardry, bring guns. Useful tips. Tracy opens her mouth to question the way Walter puts it, then seems to think better of questioning a vampire in this enclosed space. "So one way or another, the shit went tits up." Tracy concludes, although she sounds somehow dissatisfied. Then she looks to Roux. "Good," Tracy says, "Because I'm down a ghoul and I'm going to do something about it fuckin' soon as I can." Her accompanying ghoul, Zack, stands right where he is nearby. His throat tightens in a suppressed expression of grief, and he looks to the door.
And, of course, that assistant Kyle had summoned to get phone numbers comes back, to hand Kyle the two separate pieces of paper. "Your phone numbers, sir." Kyle snags them, then hands one to Nicholas, one to Walter. He doesn't thank his assistant, as she looks on to see if she noticed her beautiful handwriting. No. He didn't even look at it.
Nicholas takes the number and looks at it, then tucks it away safely in a pocket "Thank you. We'll make good use of all this information. There's a lot of work to be done."
Walter makes a point of admiring the note, even if he doesn't say anything about it, not like that jerk Kyle. He folds it away. "Tits up is right. The cell was destroyed, except for one runner who jumped out of the window, and I think they used up an entire second cell in a three way chase between Zora and her squad, the cops, and the hunters."
Roux leans back and crosses their arms over their chest. "Well, let's do it then. Just give me the deets and I'll lend you a hand." The Nosferatu rasps, offering a smirk that tears fresh holes in their paper-thin lips. "And let me know if you need any more of the gang. I can maybe ask Samuel for an assist. Not that'd do any good, guy's built like a stick-insect."
Kyle's assistant, who apparently doesn't have a name, watches as Kyle callously just hands her calligraphy off. She gives Walter a small smile of appreciation as he gives her careful penmanship a looksee. "Right, well, Lopez and I are going to work on prioritizing, someone who wants to sift the details with us knows to come here." Kyle raps his knuckles once against the table he's seated at. "Tracy," Lopez says to the Nosferatu, "let's talk about Adapter some other time, alright? I don't have time to give you my full attention and I don't want the conversation cut short." The baron stands, then straightens his thermal shirt. "I'm out, sounds like everybody's on the same page."
Nicholas says, "It's not that hard to get along, really. -Some- groups just don't have their priorities straight."
Roux nods and begins to get ready to make a move. They shrug their shoulder, shaking off their bossy clan-mate and getting some room to breathe. "Alright gang." The Nosferatu intones, carefully replacing their strategic scarf. "Hugs and kisses, I'll catch y'all on the flip side."
Nicholas looks over at Roux as they prepare to depart. "Guess that's it for this get together, then? I'll keep an ear out for when the next gathering is. If we find something out we can give a call or something like that?"
"Yes." Lopez pauses, to tell Nicholas. "Just call this restaurant. Ask for Rafael. Or call my business. Lopez Imports." Off he goes, to be followed by Kyle, Tracy and Zach.
Walter picks himself up out of the chair, and makes to head out as well. He says, "See you around." He seems cheerful enough as he does a quick check to make sure he hasn't dropped anything.
Nicholas stands and straightens his coat and prepares to leave as well. "See you around." He says back to Walter.
