Log edited with Logedit 2.6.6pl on Sat Feb 6 16:57:20 EST 1999

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Shakes pads in, looking up at the sky. The moon is starting to show again, he thinks. This seems to disappoint him somewhat. He stops, just in front of Davy, and chuffs a short greeting. He then shifts.

Davy already has the table set up, as promised. He also has five six-packs of Guinness sitting on the ground near his folding chair, and a garbage sack loosely unfolded near the end of the table. There's also a chair for Jimmy. He glances at the Gnawer as the dog approaches, and he nods. "Hey." Flashing a grin, he inquires, "Where's your drink?"

Tin Can Wilson just shrugs. "Hank's s'posed ta be around here somewhere. I stashed some stuff out in the woods, an' he said he'd bring some more, fer the party later an' all that. I guess since he ain't around, I should go grab my stash."

Davy nods. "What'd you bring?"

Tin Can Wilson inclines his head towards the treeline. "Stuff. I'll be right back." He heads for the woods, returning momentarily with a black plastic trash bag slung over one shoulder. The bag is unceremoniously dumped, and its contents reveled: several six packs of white cans, the only markings on each one are a bar code and the word 'BEER' in plain, black lettering. "I was, uh, broke," Jimmy explains, "so I got some generic."

A quick look of disappointment floods across Davy's face, but that might just be at the thought of generic beer. He looks around and says, "Man, did everyone go out to the bars tonight or what?"

Tin Can Wilson shrugs. "Not that I saw. I jus' came from... nevermind. So we gonna do this, or what?"

Davy shakes his head. "Nope, let's get started." He fishes out his first bottle and places it on the table. He leans to one side to get his keychain out of his pocket. Momentarily, he flips the bottle cap off with the opener on the keychain. He raises the beer toward Jimmy. "To ragabash!"

Tin Can Wilson grabs a can of his no-name beer, gives it a slight shake, then pops it open. "Damn straight!" he replies, lifting the can up toward Davy's bottle, letting the foam fizz out over his grubby hand.

Davy clinks can to bottle, then takes his first deep draught. "Kasie," he cries, spying his fellow Fianna. "Come, take a load off your paws. Know any good stories?"

From the rock outcropping, Walks-Far-Alone 's head jerks up a little at the sound Jimmy's can makes as it's opened. She remains in place, looking down on the scene from her perch on the rock. The dark wolf cocks her head at the question, as if pondering the meaning, then she starts down the trail towards the center. Stories?

Tin Can Wilson chugs from his can, then wipes his mouth clean with the sleeve of his jacket. He smiles out in the direction of the other Fianna, raising his can slightly in greeting.

Davy nods. "Stories. You can make some good drinking games around stories, and hell, a good story is a good story no matter what your BAC."

Walks-Far-Alone flicks an ear in greeting to the Gnawer, though her eyes rest on the can for a moment as she comments somewhat dryly. Seems to be going around. She cocks her head once more, her attention shifting back to Davy. ~BAC?~

Tin Can Wilson chuckles. "Davy's fucked up already. It's ABC... alchohol ta blood, uh, something. That's why they name the stores that."

Davy points to Jimmy. "Beer fault! You're wrong. It's Blood Alcohol Content. ABC is just for the people that can't spell higher."

By the steam vents, Hank comes trudging slowly into the Caern, panting softly. He's got a keg balanced carefully on his shoulder. By the steam vents, Hank heads into the center.

Tin Can Wilson shrugs and takes a drink. "Yeah, whatever." He stops for a moment, thinking. "Ya mentioned games. Why not play a few. eh? I know a couple drinkin' games, like... hrm... well, you'd prolly be good at 'Asshole', but there's barely 'nuff people ta play."

Walks-Far-Alone shifts her weight slightly in the lupine version of an 'oh'. She looks in the direction of the heavy footsteps and her ears shift backwards as she studies the object on Hank's shoulder.

Davy nods, raising his beer to his lips. "Played it, even though I'm a lucky sot. I usually end up President." He winks, then says, "But I was thinking of a version of the Star Wars game, if we could get some good stories going."

Hank pants heavily as he makes it to the center, and deposits the keg on the ground. "There...." He grins at Jimmy, looking tired. "Ya owe me..." He arches his back to get out the kinks in it, and whews. "That sucker was heavy."

Tin Can Wilson turns to look as Hank approaches. "Oh, cool. Ya got one." He indicates the keg with a jerk of his thumb. "Now there's gonna be 'nuff for the rest of us after Davy goes ta sleep."

Walks-Far-Alone extends her head forward to sniff at the keg, though she doesn't step any closer. One dark ear cants forward questioningly before returning backwards to match the other.

Davy laughs. "If you're drinking the same proof I am, you either have some bastard Irish heritage you haven't shared or you're just big for your britches." He takes another pull on his beer.

Tin Can Wilson rubs at his goatee for a moment. "Somethin' like Star Wars, huh? I played that one when I was just a kid. Okay... yer on. All we need is some stpries." He stops and thinks for a moment, then sets his can down as he begins to search his pockets. "Got 'em on me here somewhere..."

Walks-Far-Alone pads a slow circle around the keg, checking it out from all angles before the lupine Fianna dismisses it and returns her attention to the drinkers.

Tin Can Wilson stops searching, producing a pack of cards from his pockets. "Ever played Dead Blind Jack?" he asks Davy, kneeling to pick up another can of beer.

Davy shakes his head. "Not by that name, anyway."

Walks-Far-Alone moves off a few paces and settles down to her belly, stretching out against the cold ground as she watches.

Tin Can Wilson looks astonished. "Ya _gotta_ be kidding me. Dude, this game's, like, ancient. I think the Gazers made it up, actually, 'cause it's pretty fucked up. But it's a cool game, an' ya get ta drink, too." He looks up at the crescent moon above, once again. He turns to Hank. "What's the date t'day?"

Joseph gives the gathered garou a disdainful glance before stepping sideways.

Hank hmms. "Today? It's Octber...uh...twenty-third."

"That's close 'nuff ta 'last week rules' if we wanna use 'em," Jimmy says, "but I don't think we should. It wouldn't be fair ta Davy."

Walks-Far-Alone tilts her hear towards Hank once he answers, then her gaze drops down to the ground near her paws. Unfocused, her eyes remain there before she lifts them and stares of into the distance, lost in thought.

Davy grins crookedly, "Fair to me?"

Tin Can Wilson nods. "Yeah."

Hank grins at Jimmy. "Probably not...."

Tin Can Wilson shrugs. "Well, we should play the game the way it's s'posed ta be played, I guess. No fair cheating." He looks over to Hank and gives a firm look. "An' no bendin' the rules like you did that one time. I'm serious." He looks over to Davy, opening his pack of cards. "Ready?"

Davy leans over to get his second beer and points out dryly, "I need the rules first."

Walks-Far-Alone shifts her weight a little, still looking off into the distance.

Hank snorts at Jimmy, grinning. "Me? I never bend the rules..."

Tin Can Wilson sets his cards down and shuffles the deck, somewhat clumsily. "It's easy. It's a story game, but ya gotta make the stories up as ya go along, usin' the cards. Here' lemme start..." He sets the cards down on the ground, retrieving his beer and the top card from the deck. "It's kinda hard with regular cards, but we'll make do, I guess. See this?" he raises the card so that everyone can see it. "It's the four a' clubs. See how the spots sorta look like paw prints? That means this is a story 'bout a wolf," he says. "See, it's really easy." He tosses the card away, over his shoulder. "Take a card, Davy."

Davy grins and leans over. He turns over the ace of clubs. "This wolf had a problem with the alpha of his pack, and he wasn't sure what to do about it." The Fianna puts the card to one side of the board and takes a pull on his beer.

Walks-Far-Alone shakes her head hard, her ears flopping inthe effort to dismiss her current train of thought. She turns her attention back to the other Garou, listing to the building story.

Tin Can Wilson's eyebrow raises. He reaches down to take a card, then flips it over. The two of hearts. "The problem was, his alpha was in love with the other wolf's mate." He stops and looks over to Hank. "Two a' hearts is a trump, right?"

From the rock outcropping, Ravenfeeder makes her way down the trail from the northern wall of the valley.

Hank thinks a moment, then nods. "Yeah....with the rules for this week."

"I thought so," Jimmy says. "That means, whne ya play a trump, that everyone else in the game hasta chug the rest a' their drink." His gaze goes to Davy.

Walks-Far-Alone shifts her position just a bit, easing onto her side though she continues to hold her head up.

From the rock outcropping, Ravenfeeder slip-slides down the steep path to the more level stopping point before the center, looking like some kind of wolfish St. Bernard with something dangling from around her neck, at her throat. She pauses here to paw the thing off.

Davy gives Jimmy a look, but he obediently chugs the rest of his beer. He then flips another card--no luck for a trump from him: Jack of Spades. Leaning down to get his beer, he says, "Of course, there has to be a Jack in all these stories--a questioner that gets under someone's skin and starts rankling. Another pawed one, but this one a coyote, heard about the ill-fated love."

Hank grins, listening happily.

Tin Can Wilson takes his card. "The Joker. Kick ass!" He takes a short swig, required by the rules or not. "Ya see, the coyote was in it for himself, an' didn't give a damn 'bout the othres, but he knew that while they were bumpin' uglies, he'd be able ta sneak in an' steal some a' the grub that the wolves had set aside for the upcoming winter. Without it, they'd be in a lot a' trouble." Rather than throwing away the Joker card, Jimmy holds on to it, motioning for Davy to take his next card.

From the rock outcropping, Ravenfeeder finally disentangles herself from the mess, then shifts up to homid. She takes the harnass and what was on it in her hand, and fairly skips down the second path to the center.

Davy flips over the Queen of Diamonds. "But the wolves were all caught up in their love games, and the adored bitch was at the center of it all--the Queen that held all that was valuable to these stupid love-sotted wolves."

Tin Can Wilson scratches his chin for a moment, then throws down the Joker. "Nah, I'm overriding that. Drink." He thinks for just a moment more, then continues on the card that Davy laid down, picking up one of his own. "See, the Queen bitch was really not in love with either a' the wolves, but with the coyote." He throws down his next card, the seven of spades. "An' for a full week, uh, seven days, she kept the others occupied while the coyote came in an' stole off with their food supply, which he was gonna share with the bitch after she dumped the losers." He points to Davy. "A seven was played. That's like Rite a' the Sevens, which means that we both gotta finish the drinks we got in our hands.

Davy's lips quick, but he drinks the rest of his beer by tipping back his head and chugging the dark liquid. "I think you're making up the rules as you go along," he accuses teasingly, then leans down to get another beer.

Tin Can Wilson raises an eyebrow. "Dude, jus' 'cause you don't know how ta play... Okay, look." He turns to look at the others. "What if they played too, helpin' with the story, an' we jus' drank to it? That's a variation, an' it's legal, too."

Megan comes into full view and seen to be carrying an earthenware jug stoppered with wax, with rope tied around it in loops. "Good thing I came prepared, then," she says cheerfully, plunking herself down a few yards away and to one side, on Davy's half.

Hank hmms, and shrugs. "Guess it's up t' Davy. I'm game."

Tin Can Wilson opens a fresh beer, downing the small amount left in his can.

Walks-Far-Alone snorts softly. I have patrol soon, I will watch.

Davy says easily, "Hey, anything to add life to the party."

Hank grins. "OK, then....give me a can." He snickers at Jimmy. "An' no shaking."

Tin Can Wilson just tosses one over to Hank. "I guess it's okay, since you brought that whole damn keg."

Hank snags the can from the air, and pops it open. "Glad t' hear it." He grins.

Megan cracks the wax seal on the jug, then worrys the cork underneath it out with her fingers. The slight *pop* is accompanied by an alcoholic sweetness of raspberries.

Tin Can Wilson's nose starts to twitch. "What is... that?" His eye squints as he leans forward to get a closer look at the bottle.

Hank whistles softly. "Trouble...."

Eamon heads down into the center of the caern, waving. He grins at Megan and sits by her. "Hey, what's up?"

Walks-Far-Alone remains off to one side, her thick fur keeping the coldness of the ground away from her as she stretches out against it. The dark wolf yawns, then settles her head down against a forepaw as she listens.

Davy inhales deeply and then laughs. "I still say it smells more like a dessert than booze."

Tin Can Wilson's expression changes slightly as he looks at Megan, obviously seeing her in some ne wlight. "Megan, I didn't know ya brewed hooch."

Megan grins at Davy. "Yeah. Tell that to the others that try it," she says with a wink, then looks up at Eamon. "Heya, m'blood. Not much except a drinking game." She then looks back at Jimmy with a wry smile. "I don't. I pinched it from Brian's stash." She puts a single finger to her lips in a 'shh' motion, then takes a deep swig. Then offers it out silently to Jimmy with question in her expression.

Tin Can Wilson takes the jar, lifts it to his lips, then lowers it, passing it towards Davy. He wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "Needs a chaser," he gasps, grabbing for his no-name beer and taking a swig.

Hank grins, and takes a gulp of his own beer.

Eamon grins. "Jimmy and Davy? This oughta be good."

Davy takes a deep swig himself and then whistles. He hands it back, "Too much of that summery goodness, and this will be one short challenge." He also chases it with beer, though what raspberries chases with Guinness tastes like is left to to others' imaginations.

Walks-Far-Alone turns her head towards the northern end of the caern's valley, her ears pricked at some slight noise.

Megan takes the jug back and takes another drink, before beckoning Eamon over. "C'mon and share a pint o' the Tears with me, m'blood, and see who goes under first."

Davy bangs his bottle on the folding table. "We got more folks here now," he announces unnecessarily. "I think we can have a drinking game from a real story."

"It's either that or 'Asshole'", Jimmy says.

Davy looks around, especially to his fellow Fianna. "To save us from Asshole, will anyone tell a tale of might and glory?"

Eamon accepts the jug from Megan and takes a swig, then passes it back to her.

Tin Can Wilson nudges Hank. "Davy's 'fraid a Gnawer might be President and he'd be the asshole."

Megan toys with the jug without drinking, grinning at Davy. "What's the criteria?"

Hank snickers softly at Jimmy.

Davy blows at kiss at Jimmy. "Shakes, you'll always be an asshole to me." He then turns to Megan with a grin. "Game is like the Star Wars game. When you hear 'Litany,' an auspice name, 'blood' or 'battle,' you drink. When you hear a hero's name, you toast the hero and drink. And when you hear 'Wyrm,' you slam your beer, hit the bottle on the table, and say, 'And /that/ to the Wyrm!'"

Megan looks vaguely puzzled. "Star Wars game. Before my time, I think." She then grins. "Too bad Brian's not here. I'm not sure I can come up with one that'd be that good for a drinking game."

Davy shakes his head. "I have /got/ to have you crew of uneducated heathens over to my place to watch Star Wars after this is over."

Tin Can Wilson just shrugs. "Bring it on," he says.

"Gimme a break," Megan says. "It came out the year I was born." With an innocent look, she leans forward, taking another swig. "So, only two stories which come to mind are Cu Chulain's last stand, and the Wheel's hunt on the Hive two years ago. Have a pref? The former's not going to have much mention of Litany and the Wyrm, the latter's not got many heroes, unless you count us."

Davy waves his bottle expansively. "Oh, we can be heroes. Let's say anyone above first rank is a hero. We need to do some drinking."

Megan points at Jimmy. "Then you oughta take his suggestion and play Asshole, then. No quicker way to get drunk in a hurry."

Tin Can Wilson hrms. "Well, actually, there _is_ a way, but I don't know if Davy's up for it."

Hank glances at Jimmy. "You mean....?"

Davy raises his brows at Jimmy. "What's that?"

Tin Can Wilson says "Nah, you wouldn't want to. It'd kick your ass. But hell, if you can make it through it, without any Gifts or whatever helpin' out, I'll take my shot at it, too."

Walks-Far-Alone sits half-way up, scratching at her side with a hindpaw as she listens.

Bailey's eyebrows raise. "Quicker way..." he mutters, thinking on it. As it hits him, quietly, out of the way, lifts his left arm to check his watch. That, or cover the smirk on his face.

Megan quirks an eyebrow as she watches, waiting for the answer as well.

"It's called 'Cardinal'," Jimmy says. "Ya stand up an' say 'Cardinal, Cardinal, may I take my first drink of the night?' an' then the Cardinal says, 'Yes, you may.'. Then ya gotta spin around really fast ten times, stomp each foot once, then take a swig from a cup. Ya gotta be able ta do this four times from the same cup, an' then you're promoted ta Cardinal. If ya fall down, or fuck up somehow, ya start over from the beginning."

Bailey blinks, not expecting this. He walks over to Hank, and nudges him.

Hank glances over at Bailey, and grins.

Davy glances at what's on the table. "Do bottles and cans count?"

Megan quirks an eyebrow. "I think, as the challangee, it'd be your job to go first, Jimmy," she says with a grin.

Tin Can Wilson says "Well, ya usually use a pretty big cup, but not as big as the jug. I dunno. Let's save that for a tie-breaker or somethin', if we have to, eh?"

Davy shakes his head and drinks from his bottle. "Got a cup?" He then grins at Megan's comment. "She's probably right, on who goes first. Unless you want to work up a little slower. One success first time, then two, then three, then more. I'm not trying to prove I've not got the brains to get you to drink as much as me."

Bailey can't help but smile at this. Turning to Hank, he says. "You know, puke /is/ bio-degradeable, and there's a reason." He indicates the Challenge happening. "Because of things like this."

Hank snickers quietly, and nods.

Bailey shrugs. "Saves me the trouble of lugging buckets around."

Walks-Far-Alone's ears settle backwards at Bailey's comment, and the idea of puking in the center of the caern.

Tin Can Wilson says "Let's just do the story game. 'Sides, I haven't heard any good stories in a while. Someone tells the stories, an' we drink."

Hank hmms. "Regular stories, or Dead Blind Jack?"

"Regular stories," Davy says quickly. "The other could be fun, but it doesn't go quick enough.

Tin Can Wilson settles down at the table. "Let's have a story. And, uh, let's go for the gsuto. None a' this cheesy beer shit, let's drink he good stuff." He pauses for a moment. "Besides, if Brian ever finds out we're drinkin' from his private stash... well, it'd be worth the ass-kicking just to see the look on his face."

Davy shakes his head. "Nuh-huh. Any other night, yeah. It's good shit. And it's good enough to be friendly to share a single shot. But that's the challenge my man. You chose your poison, and I chose mine. BYOB."

Tin Can Wilson's eye narrows. "Why's that? Afraid ta drink the strong shit, or did you bring a load a' watered-down shit?"

Davy shakes his head. His greenish eyes glitter in the dim light of the caern. "Nah, neither. If you want someone else to test, this is the pure stuff. But I'm not testing your liver here, Jimmy." His smile grows crooked. "I told ya. I'm testing your moon."

By the waterfall, Shadow Eyes comes down the small trail at the closest he can get to a run, obviously late. He shakes the dust off when he gets to the bottom, then saunters on into the center.

Walks-Far-Alone turns, looking over her shoulder as the lupine Gnawer hurries down the path. Her tail thumps a few times in greeting, then she looks back to the Challenge.

Tin Can Wilson picks up the Fianna jug and starts to drink from it. He finishes after a moment, once more wiping his lips with the back of his sleeve. "Whatever, dude." He looks into the jug. "Stuff tastes like kool-aid."

Brief disappointment flares in Davy's eyes, and he suddenly laughs. "Yeah, I know. Too much for my own good." He turns toward Bailey resolutely. "Come on with the story, man."

Finding a comfortable spot on the ground to sit, Bailey lays his backpack across his knees, leaning on it a little. "Well, this isn't one of the great legends, but it kinda fits what's going on here tonight. This is the one I heard from an old friend back at Newark about someone he knew as a Cub. Now, this guy, he was a Fianna, and a No-Moon to boot. Finnegas Two-Fist, he was called, and it was a name well-earned on his Rite of Passage."

By the waterfall, Shadow Eyes gives a quiet whuffle of greeting to Walks-Far, then pads in very quietly to sit right beside Hank.

Davy knocks back a drink and then raises his almost-empty bottle. "To Finnegas Two-Fist and his ancestors!" Another drink finishes it off, and he bends to get another.

Tin Can Wilson raises a freshly opened beer in salute, and toasts.

From his spot, Bailey chuckles, obvious that this story sparks some pleasant memory for him. "Now, as a Cub, Finnegas was always called Tips-the-Mug, because of both his fondness for drink, and his tendency to spill any container he came in contact with. When it came time for his Rite, his Elders had the perfect task for him, or so they thought."

Davy toasts the hero's name again. His disappointment seems to have faded somewhat in enjoyment of the story.

Tin Can Wilson downs his beer, grabs another, stands, moving slightly away from the table, and closer to Davy. "Dude, did Chugs ever tell ya how I got my deed name?" He pauses as Bailey continues his story, "Tips-the-Mug!" he toasts to Finnegas, then turns back to Davy.

Davy looks over. "Story goin' on, man," he admonishes. "But no."

By the waterfall, Shadow Eyes seems pleased at Bailey's tale, and curls into a little dusty ball to keep warm.

Hank listens quietly, smiling.

Looking up a bit, the GlassWalker regards the two Raggies for a moment. "So, when the night arrived, two of Finn's elders dragged the Cub into the Shadow, and handed him two mugs, foaming with some Fianna home brew to the brim. 'Now Finnegas,' they said, 'your job is this it to take these two mugs, and find your way home. We'll be partying while we wait, and you have to get back before the both of us pass out. Without spilling a drop."

Tin Can Wilson begins to shake another can of beer, held in his other hand. "Ah... See, it was like this. Chugs got pissed at me once, for doin'... this!" He shakes he can hard once more, then opens it, spraying it in the other Ragabash's face. As he does so, he blurs and shifts with blinding speed. Tin Can Wilson contorts and blurs as he is transformed. Tin Can Wilson shifts into Hispo form.

The amount Davy has drunk, and the sudden shift into combat allows the lunging hispo to get a grip in his jacket and forcibly haul him under the table. Of course, it probably also results in the lack of control that has the son of Weasel practically explode into crinos once there, knocking the table up and over and sending cans, bottles and cards flying.

Shadow Eyes scatters backwards, away from the combat.

Walks-Far-Alone's on her paws in a flash, bulking up to hispo herself and backing away from the drunk Garou.

Bailey, seeing the need for the story going away, gets his backpack, and backs away, quickly.

Walks-Far-Alone contorts and blurs as she is transformed. Walks-Far-Alone shifts into Hispo form.

Hank backs away....tensing just in case.

Shakes, rather than trying to inflict any damage, begins to fiercely lick Davy's face, looking for all the world like a big, overly-friendly wolfish dog. ~Drink... Davy... under the...~ He stops, looking around for the table, to make sure it's at least nearby,

Wears-the-Woad looks like the table is the last thing on his mind, though it was probably overhead for some brief moment of licking. Brief. Instead, the Fianna bunches his fists together and lays some hurting into the side of Shakes' head.

Shakes moves off and shifts back to homid, finding himself sitting on his butt not too far from Davy.

Walks-Far-Alone turns to go, her pressed back ears indicating her feelings about the whole scene. Walks-Far-Alone heads southeast, towards the waterfall.

By the waterfall, Walks-Far-Alone approaches the waterfall from the center of the caern.

Shadow Eyes stands his ground, waiting tensely.

Wears-the-Woad picks up the Gnawer like a play-toy and strides toward the waterfall.

Tin Can Wilson begins to struggle. "Hey, c'mon! It was a fair move!" He looks over ot his packmates. "Guys... uh..."

Hank snickers softly. "Yeah....I think so. But does HE think so?"

By the waterfall, Walks-Far-Alone stops and glances back to watch as the crinos manhandles the Gnawer.

Wears-the-Woad apparently thinks some sort of revenge is in order at least, because he slam-dunks the struggling homid into the pool under the icy falls.

Bailey walks behind the two heading to the waterfall. "Hank, they're no-Moons. Fair move isn't a concept they embrace easily."

"It's not my fault," Jimmy says, his feet occasionally almost touching the ground.

Tin Can Wilson splashes into the icy water, coming up almost instantly for air. "Sober," he says simply, crawling out of the water.

Hank snickers.

Shadow Eyes is glad it hasn't frozen.

Wears-the-Woad levels a finger at the wet no-moon and growls, ~You're a no moon all right. If you'd just use more of your brain, instead of your instincts.~ The Fianna glowers down at the wet son of Dog, then snorts. ~Well, it will be up to Peacekeeper. No-moon.~ He then turns back and glowers at the other members of Cavall and trundles over to clean up the mess before Joseph can come snarl at him some more.

Shadow Eyes flicks an ear at Davy, and pads over to Jimmy.

Tin Can Wilson pulls himself out of the water, shivering and apparently sober. "I'll help clean up," he says, his lips already turning purple in the cold Washington state air.

Shakes shakes. Shakes contorts and blurs as he is transformed. Shakes shifts into Homid form.

Tin Can Wilson makes his way over to the table, a little dryer and warmer now, and begins to put empty beer cans into the trash bag he brought with him.

Hank nods...and moves to help as well.

Bailey helps out, clearing up the area as much as he can.

Wears-the-Woad's form eventually dwindles down into homid, after he finishes breaking up the splintered table and putting it into the heavy-duty trash bag. "I didn't even break into the second sixpack," he grumbles to Jimmy, though the immediate flash of passionate irritation seems to be past.

Shadow Eyes shifts up and does what he can, Derrick's stories of Groundkeeper work apparently having done some good.

Tin Can Wilson puts a hand to the side of his head. "And this throbbing feeling isn't a hangover. It's way too soon for that," he says. "Butcha know, there's no reason not ta finish up perfectly good beer."

Hank nods. "An' more stories...."

Davy finally relents enough to give a half-grin. "Okay." he says. "You guys finish cleaning this up and move all the shit to the compound, since it won't be a challenge no more. I'll report to Robert, and join you there."

"Sounds like a plan," Bailey says. "But, we might want to find someplace more private. Didn't some Garou get in trouble for drinking around here a few days ago?"

Davy shrugs. "Didn't hear," he says. He then heads off to find Robert. He's apparently unworried about not being able to find his hooch again.

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