Knock Knock

[Rod Stafford]

After the meeting, he bought coffee in one of the busy diners populating downtown Chicago. He pulled out a stool from under a narrow bench and took his seat looking out onto the bustling street. He sipped the piping hot drink, the steam curled above the cup and clouded the window before him. He saw his reflection.

He wore a charcoal suit and a grey shirt. The cumbersome tie was stashed away in his briefcase. His hair was neat and his face clean-shaven. He frowned, drank from his cup and looked beyond the glass. Cars besieged the roads and people swarmed the pavements. They were all smartly dressed. The women carried tiny handbags and wore shoes with high heels. He glanced down at his feet; the black new leather winked white from the overhead lights.

Fifteen minutes passed, he drained his cup dry and promptly left the diner, spilling out with the rest of the punters into the crisp autumn air. He was lucky in flagging a cab but not so fortunate in that he was about to spend the next twenty minutes in rush hour traffic.

"The Atelier, please," he said to the driver.

The last leg of the journey was free of deadlock, and the cab rolled up outside The Atelier as the dark blue dusk inked the evening sky. It was a handsome building, spotlights cast stretching shadows across its ornate facade. His shoes made a satisfying click on the marble floor as he crossed the foyer to the elevator. A rather plump, middle-aged woman joined him.

"Which floor?" he asked, smiling.

"Third," she said.

He pressed the button for the third floor and then the sixth. Both lit up and the elevator came to life. Once the woman was gone, he checked himself in one of the mirrored panels on the elevator's interior. He unbottoned his shirt at the collar, tugged gently at the cuffs and straightened his jacket. He turned to face the door, cleared his throat and rubbed his shoes against the back of his trousers. The elevator came to a stop with a ding. The doors parted and he made his way down the hall until he came to Room 611. He stared at the burgundy door.

"Okay."

He took a deep breath and knocked.

[Fiona Devlin]

:: Fiona answered the door, dressed in simple jeans and t-shirt. She stared at him in complete suprise ::

"Rene??? Oh my god, is it you???"

[Rod Stafford]

"In the flesh," he said.

The suprise on Fiona's face pleased him. He grinned, leaned forward and placed his free hand gently on her arm, he kissed her cheek in greeting.

"It's good to see you again, Fiona."

[Fiona Devlin]

"Good to see you!" she cooed, tugging him inside by the hands. She took a step back so she could look at him.

"The boy from Leicester ... a sharp dressed man."

[Rod Stafford]

"It had to happen to happen sooner or later."

He put his briefcase down and held his arms up a little so he could turn on the spot. It felt a little odd.

"I can't say I'm completely convinced in this yet but I'm glad to have your approval. At least its warmer than a kilt," he said, with a wink.

[Fiona Devlin]

:: Fiona chuckled ::

"Can I get you a drink?"

[Rod Stafford]

"Coffee, please. You've turned me into an addict."

He picked up his briefcase and followed Fiona down the hall to the kitchen, noting on the way that some of the artwork had changed. Fiona had exquisite taste.

"Is Michelle home?"

[Michele Hawkins]

The sound of a guest caught my little curious ears as I was in the middle of sword practice. I set down my Colada inside its case and grab a towel to dry off my face. When it fell away from my eyes, I saw a suit with a Rod!

I wasn't sure what I was more surprised to see. Rod OR the suit, but gleeee!!!

"YOU'RE BACK!!!" I quickly shortened the distance and wrapped my arms around his neck and a big hug. I kinda sorta practically tackled the man!

[Fiona Devlin]

:: Fiona grinned at the reunion as she reached for the Arabian Mocha and poured some beans in the grinder ::

[Rod Stafford]

When Michelle charged him, Rod attempted to mentally consult his Guide to America's Modern Gentleman: To-Do's and Taboos but she was already on top of him. He dropped his briefcase, fortunately no feet were harmed, and clumsily wrapped his arms around her. He patted her back gently, feeling a little sheepish.

"Michelle!" he mumbled, the movement of his jaw somewhat obstructed in the tight embrace. "Great to see you."

They untangled themselves and he inspected her with a huge smile.

"Well, you look fighting fit!" he said, impressed, and nodded at Fiona. "Has old Iron Jaw been running you ragged?"

[Michele Hawkins]

"Iron Jaw?" I blinked, confused. "Huh, you mean Fi?"

I look over at her with a sheepish grin. "I think she has more of a glass jaw with the way she takes a punch!"

Oh yes, how can we forget the time I was learning how to fight and punched her right in the face. She fell down like a sack of potatoes. I flex my well defined bicep at her and wink.

[Fiona Devlin]

"I can hear you!" she shot back at them as she sliced some spice cake.

[Rod Stafford]

"And we're full of nothing but praise for you," he said brightly.

The warm smell of fresh coffee laced the air. While Fiona finished pottering about in the kitchen, Rod helped himself to a seat. He sighed with relief.

"Well, you both look very well. How have things been while I've been away?"

[Michele Hawkins]

"Um, well ... kinda hectic around here. We've got freeloaders." I refer to Brigid, Nara and the new boy Trevor. I swear we should be charging rent with everyone around.

[Fiona Devlin]

"Aye. I gave Brigid the penthouse across the hall and she's not bought a lick of furniture yet."

[Rod Stafford]

"Who's Brigid?" Rod asked, looking from Michelle to Fiona.

He had a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach, he had given them no notice of his visit and simply turned up at the door. The last thing he wanted was to become another freeloader. He rapped his fingers on his knees nervously as he waited for Fiona to join them.

"You mentioned there was more than one?"

[Michele Hawkins]

"Brigid's like us. Immortal, and a long time friend and student of Fiona's. We also have a pet puppy named Nara." I chuckle and pick up Perc to nuzzle his face with my nose. "She's Garou."

[Fiona Devlin]

:: Fiona served them at the table, giving Michele a funny look ::

"Pet puppy? Don't let Nara ever catch you saying that."

[Rod Stafford]

"A werewolf?" he said, sounding alarmed.

He straightened up, his head turned from Michelle to Fiona and back again. Their expressions were serious. His voice carried a hint of concern.

"You're associating with werewolves? Don't you think that's a bit dangerous?"

[Michele Hawkins]

"Nara's a gentle soul once you get past the rough exterior," I say in defense of my friend. "And her band is awesome!"