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THE MONSTER OF EALING
Last night, several people reported the sighting of a "screaming red monster" in a quiet neighbourhood of Ealing. After a power shortage in the area, a building caught fire. It was then when, what was described as a "man shaped, footless creature" emerged from the flames, leaping, running, and screaming. One woman has told our reporters that the man had "teeth like a wolf, and the face of the devil". Police officers are still trying to get to the bottom of this; neither the power shortage nor the fire have still been explained. A spokesperson from Scotland Yard has stated that the "so called monster" might be a wounded person, escaping the fire.

TRAGEDY IN TOOLEY STREET
The police has found the bodies of three TFL workers in the construction site at Tooley Street. One of their colleagues raised the alarms last week, when the three workers didn't attend their shifts. The bodies of the men have been found in a deep hole, uncovered by the refurbishment works that are taking place in the area. According to the Police, the bodies were horribly mutilated, which has led to the wildest speculations. The names of the three workers are being kept anonymous, following the wishes of their families.

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MARCH 8 - PISCES
You are used to making sacrifices, to prioritising the happiness of others before yours. Even though that is a noble attitude, there are times in life where the only healthy alternative is to embrace your own selfishness and allow yourself some enjoyment. Reserve one hour per day to do something you really like. Treat yourself! Your colour for this month is blue.
Echoes from the past ring back into London. Their intensity increases until they are deafening. What once was a faded memory of a glorious time, now becomes a shocking reality. The consequences of actions taken decades ago ripple into the present, altering the lives of everybody in the City. Unguided and blind, Kindred wander around, trying to make profit out of the reigning chaos.


The appearance of four mysterious figures turned the city upside down. Mistrust and jealousy became the official currency of London. Serpents and fiends rise to power, misdirecting the blaming eyes of the Camarilla towards imaginary enemies. Only those with clear vision and the ability to trust each other strive, while the rest run towards a shallow grave.



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Meredith Furlong
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Rosella Marie Allain


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Davvad Bisset

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Ventrue: Marcus Antonio Russo
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Harrow: Jelena Korolenko

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The three biker challenge; (Open, NPC welcome)
Topic Started: Tuesday, 15. July 2014, 11:04 (2,348 Views)
Margo Moreau
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Rebel Toreador
* * * * * *
Margo was a Rose with thorns. Deep down in her guts the tiny woman had a temper that would slowly curl up like a serpent around her spine. A slight here. A dirty glance. A painful memory. Frustration. A thousand little things that seeped into her and fed the thing until it finally reached her brain and latched on.

Then it was just a matter of time. Margo knew how to fight. Her first Kindred friend after her embrace was James. James the Brujah. James with the long chestnut hair and the tiger eyes. He taught her the way the Brujah used celerity. The Brujah way of presence. He would keep punching her until Margo was able to take a few and punch back. He taught her to shoot straight. He left her with a beautiful silver knife and a Glock-17. He left for LA. There were many times since she was tempted to follow him there. She missed him, and had not heard from him for a long time. Just one more thing to feed the serpent.

Now, her bondmate was lost to the Thames... her Tavin was... gone. Two devastating punches to the heart that had driven Margo mad with grief. She was getting a handle on it. But there were two punches. Under the grief was a cold rage which gave that serpent venom.

Margo had a body which was pummeled by a spray of lead. The bullets that killed her shredded flesh and bone. The embrace brought her back, but the little vampire was forever trapped in a body sculpted by an assault rifle. To make her body work and keep her face pretty Margo had to use her precious vitae every fucking night. This meant that Margo had to hunt. Often. Usually, she used her sexy little body with the cute-as-hell face to lure men she fancied into a dark corner or a hotel room. But sometimes... when the spine curling serpent struck... Margo got her Brujah on.

There is a biker bar named the Plague Pit in Grove Ward. On any given night you could find club members. Hang-arounds. Prospects and old ladies. The Hells Angel's wore their Kuttes. It was the club's bar. Anyone else would be wise to leave the colors home. Those bikers were the ones on the menu tonight, the ones passing though.

It was late. 3 AM. Margo waited until things quieted down. She had been looking for a pair of them. But the best opportunity of the night were a group of three. Margo had never taken on three men at once. Until now. The little Rose approached them with a slutty strut which brought beer-breath grins. The cat-calls and lewd jibes told the hunter that they took the bait. [Presence: Awe] "Hey boys. I tell you what. I am going to beat the fucking shit out of you. All three. The last one standing gets to fuck me. No holes barred."

The drunken men had no choice but to take the little Rose seriously. Even so they laughed at her, convinced that they were all gonna be passing her little tail around. They took a short ride to a sandlot across from a closed down garage named Blood Sweat and Gears. It was dark. There was no one around. The boys lit the lot with the headlights of their bikes. It was on.

(To be continued...)
Edited by Margo Moreau, Tuesday, 15. July 2014, 11:44.
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Well, this is interesting. Anna figured an area like this, high in crime and brutes would be certain to have a few roaming brujah and hunting gangrel. But this was really interesting. A girl like that, wanting to take on three bikers? That's definitely...something.

Hair still dyed black from the other night, she watches the bikers mount up with the girl and drive off, patting herself down before continuing after them, following the sounds of the bikes and boisterous yells, cutting down side alleys and across narrow streets until she hears the bikes stop, wandering for a bit before catching sight of the lights illuminating the lot opposite the garage.

Looking up at the run down garage, Anna smiles quietly and slips round to the side of the defunct building, stepping up onto a pile of old crates, grabbing onto a pipe up on the side of the building and yanking herself up with a soft grunt, rolling onto the top of the hard flat roof and reaching into a pouch at her side, pulling out a small pair of binoculars. What? She's been intending to hunt, she came prepared. Dressed in black tight leathers, the outfit is adorned with a few pins and badges, advertising various teen things, to better disguise it as a teenage girls outfit.

Shifting into a better position, she props the binoculars up to her eyes and waits, watching carefully.
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Margo Moreau
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* * * * * *
Margo stalked around in little circles leering at the men. The overlapping cones of light from the motorbikes made for odd patterns of shadows as the combatants moved. At first they seemed reluctant to actually hurt her... Margo had to get the beat-down started.

So she walked up to one of them and punched him in the nose. His head snapped back and he looked back and growled at her. His nose already started to pulp up, she likely broke it. He took a wide swing at her, snarling words meant to demean and insult. Margo... took the punch on the side of her face... it pushed her over and she started to laugh.

Margo then kicked the second one and knocked the wind out of him. He convulsed.

This finally started up the brawl Margo was looking for. The third man didn't wait for the Rose to plug him. He went to grab her, but ended up with an armful of air as Margo moved... surprisingly fast to avoid it. She apparently didn't mind getting hit, but being grabbed... not so much.

Margo looked at the men with a wide grin and giggled... some of them grinned back as they realized this was actually gonna be a fight... much to their surprise.
Edited by Margo Moreau, Thursday, 17. July 2014, 23:27.
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Well, she's not trying, that much is obvious. Fiddling with the focus on her binoculars slightly, the girl adjusts the zoom, wishing she'd brought the night vision stuff. Because that wouldn't have been obvious high tech spy equipment, nope.

...That was fast. Little too fast, maybe? Or it was still quite dark and she's jumping to conclusions. Still, if she's right and this ends up how she expects, gonna have to be careful. She casts her eyes up and down the street before flicking back to the fight, noting that the place is clear at this hour.
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Margo Moreau
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* * * * * *
The burly men figured out that they could land punches but trying to grab the little woman was futile. Margo started to take some good body blows and two hard shots to the face. The pummeling went on for several seconds with Margo laughing while being pushed across the sandlot one hit at a time.

The fists of the mortal men could do little punching her undead body. They might as well be punching a 50lb bag of rice. Nothing to really damage.

Margo... no bruising, no sweat... breathing only to laugh.

Finally one of them got a hold of one of her arms enough to twist it painfully around before she could pull free... and she took a solid hit to the nose, breaking it.

Then Margo snarled. In a flurry of fists and feet her hustle was revealed. She pummeled the nose-breaker until he fell down and belched out blood and beer suds.

Margo turned towards the remaining two. Suddenly threat hung in the air... reality was being stretched for these men... something was wrong how was that little girl so tough... and so fast?! Fear crept into the bikers eyes. The fun and lust that kept them here was fading.

[Awe: Presence] Hang in there boys, come and get me! Fuckers!


She kicked over one of the motorcycles, shifting the shadows as its headlight fell towards the ground.

You don't mess with the bike. The other two came on hard.
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Rory Alasdair
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* * *
Exploration is paramount for an Outlander in a new town. He took to the parks first, of course. The little forests and hills, shady and verdant. But that was mostly just Richmond, so far. Where he set up a little spot to rest in the soil, for now. Until maybe something better could be procured. A ghouled animal here and there, to keep an eye on the spot during the day... Everything coming together nicely, for a no doubt fruitful stay in the biggest city he ever decided to linger in. Should be safer... More blood. More Kindred, more work. More opportunities.

Now, he found his way just down south into Kingston. Grove Ward, where the Rabble were said to reside. Biker pubs (really, in England?) and empty lots among other locales of rampant crime. Fun. Just the place to do some hunting, occasionally, as long as Rory didn't piss off the wrong Brujah. That is, if they actually claimed this part of town as their own. The Gangrel's info network was sadly lacking, but he wasn't about to make that a priority anyway. Not really his thing, but when you survive this long you figure out how to move about and hear things every so often.

He wandered, mostly. Among the shadows and sticking to the wildest parts the City held in these parts, outside the parks. Alleys and side roads. It seemed a quite, dark night. Good, if not for the fact that such quiet usually spelt more trouble than otherwise. Some shouting in the distance, spats between whoever, and various ambiance of cars and people's homes floated around in the air. Nothing of interest. He didn't know where the pubs around here actually were, but he'd be damned if he didn't find something tonight. Drunk or not. Blood was always the priority. Surviving, if not gorging...

Heavy clothing and a dark demeanor were his ensemble, as always. Bothersome sunglasses, ironic as that is, adorned his corpse-pale face. The deep red of his beard and head hair seemed too close to black in the darkness of the night to really distinguish very easily. If it was a natural tint, it might not seem so. Even those little things made it difficult to blend in. But it was a rare and foolish Kine that stared long enough to make it a problem. Rory knew how to take care of problems. In his own ways...

There were sounds of violence off in the distance, which wouldn't really interest the Scotsman... If not for the ringing sound of a woman laughing. That was... disconcerting. He'd follow the noise, but he had no idea what to expect when he got close. Or if he wanted even the slightest part in it.
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Yyyyyup, she's either a MMA champion picking random fights, or she's Kindred. Nobody endures that much pummeling before hitting someone that hard. She could be a ghoul, but it's a very rare and very stupid ghoul that's going to waste that much blood on strength and resilience and healing the damage afterwards, even with a willing domitor.

Okay, it's not like she hasn't done that same thing, but she was working with half a flat full of unbonded blood at the time and it had been a matter of life or death. Bloody russians. It wasn't her fault they sent ten enforcers to deal with one little gir-...Whoops, drifting. Pay attention.

Well, kicking over the bike was just petty, now she can't see as well. Still, no way in hell is she moving from her position just yet.
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Margo Moreau
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* * * * * *
Yes, a 5'3" 100lb MMA champion. Paper-clip division. Yup.

The little Rose danced around the drunken charge of the two enraged bikers. She jumped up on the back of the larger one and wrapped her arm around his thick neck and dug her heels into his groin. With her free hand she pulled on his long greasy hair causing the man to yelp. He went down on his knees scratching at the thorny hellcat on his back.

The man's friend came over and kicked Margo with the toe of his boot in her unguarded ribs, hard. Margo held on and she and her mount fell over onto the side. Margo disentangled herself from under the man quickly, but not before she took another kick in the ribs. As Margo was getting up a foot was descending on her face. She turned away and took the sole on the side of her head, backed up with all the man's muscle and girth....

Yeah, that one stung a bit. Margo finally got to her feet. One biker was out for the count, one biker was grunting with a bruised groin and rolling on the ground, though perhaps not out of the fight. The last of the three squared off... there didn't seem any intention of asking if he was the winner. The last thing that seemed on the man's mind was fucking. He wanted to take the bitch down.
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It seems big dumb and ugly doesn't want to claim his prize for being the last one standing. And she's looking pretty bruised, even with a Kindred's usual resilience, that many kicks has to hurt. Mind, if she was a brujah, she probably wouldn't appreciate the intervention...but if that's the case, Anna can fight her.

Taking a soft breath, the girl pushes herself up, scooting her knees underneath her then swinging them round to dangle over the edge of the garage roof, carefully slipping herself down, sticking to the shadows and hitting the ground below. Okay, now lets make it a little more plausible. Backing off a little down the road she had came from, she takes a deep breath and starts to run at the remaining thug, raising her voice as she declares "Leave her alone!" Not quite a shout, but loud enough to get the idiots attention. Her knee goes right between his legs and as he crumples, her arm swings round his neck, setting him into a choke, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two...and there we go. Letting go of the now unconscious biker, she folds over slightly, acting as if she's out of breath and taking a few huge gasps. A few seconds later, she looks up at the Rose and cracks a smile.

"So, last one standing gets to fuck you, right?"
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Margo Moreau
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* * * * * *
Margo is agape. On her list of things that might have happened tonight... a spunky little juggernaut charging to her rescue out of the night was not one of them.

And the way she creamed that last biker... granted she had softened him up... but that was not a little-girl feat. Same as yours truly.

Margo stood there stunned, and then the blood-lust kicked back in... her hunt just got interrupted. Anger rose up to chase away the confusion.

"Who are you?!" Margo snarled. The little Rose paced back and forth trying to calm herself, twisting her neck as she did to keep it centered on the other woman. Margo was wary... this could very well be another kindred. Most likely in fact. Margo shifted her perceptions to bring Anna's colors into view [Auspex: Aura Perception]
Edited by Margo Moreau, Tuesday, 22. July 2014, 00:35.
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Light blue, deep red, a helix of alternating colours, marked with pale spots, lines and shapes that are lighter than the surrounding patches.

Appraising her lightly, Anna doesn't seem particular intimidated by the snarl, though she does slip a hand into one of her pockets. She in fact, gives the girl in front of her a warm smile. "Just a good Samaritan, helping out a kindred spirit." Hardly subtle, but did it need to be?

Okay, if she goes for you, twist round her, grab her arms, broken bones aren't that easy to heal, even for experienced Kindred.
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Margo Moreau
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Ah... Margo looked relieved. A ghoul. One that had apparently been following her since she knew the opening line that Margo had used at the Plague Pit.

"Right." Margo jumped to conclusions. "Are you one of George's? Er... Mr. Harris? I was actually... okay." Margo smirked. "I was looking for a fight. Had to get some shit beat out of my head."

Margo winced and felt her broken nose. Some vitae there. She rubbed it off with her fingers, and then sent blood to the worst of her injuries. Her nose fixed itself up and the darkest patches on her skin faded.

"I've worked up quite an appetite"
Margo licked her lips. "Hey, I'm Margo by the way." She started circling around the men like sizing up a buffet.
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Rory Alasdair
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* * *
Rory pushed away a fence, emerging into the sandlot. The sight that greeted him was an empty space, save for three bikes, one toppled over, and their three riders done the same. And standing just beside them, two small women... Yeah, that was strange. Judging from the sounds he'd heard approaching, the crumpled up mess of flesh on the ground, and at least one of the girl's stance. Aggressive, still. Then the other one said something, just audible enough for the old Gangrel to hear from a decent distance.

"So, last one standing gets to fuck you, right?"

Oh. Dear. That's not right to do in this place. Not with the old Scotsman, still a Christian by his account, having wandered upon the scene. Either way, really. Kids these days...

He wondered if they were Kindred, of course. It isn't such an easy thing for women, especially their size, to take down men, especially their size, unless they had some sort of advantage. Rory didn't recognize either of them as he kept approaching, but he heard a name... 'George... Harris...' Now that name he knew. And this was his Clan's territory from what the Outlander had heard. Would make sense if they were Brujah, even if they looked more like schoolgirls.

"What's goin' on here?" Rory announced himself with a neutral tone, if they hadn't yet spotted him already. He spoke in a distinct Scottish accent, but more of a snarl to it. His clawed hands were tucked in his coat and his eyes were still covered by his usual choice of simple sunglasses. Just in case, for Masquerade sake.

The smell of alcohol, and blood from fresh scratches, wafted up into his hungry senses. It was not the nice thing to do to poach someone's hunt, but...
Edited by Rory Alasdair, Tuesday, 22. July 2014, 04:54.
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Appetite, mentions of ownership, subtle probings into the masquerade. Not a brujah, then. Rose, maybe. The poseurs can get violent sometimes and a brujah wouldn't excuse their need to apply copious amounts of beatings.

Also, soul reader. Out of all Caines gifts, thats the one Anna dislikes the most, it's hard to play innocent when someone can dial into your soul and go yup, she a ghoul. Most annoying.

"If you're looking to whet your appetite.." She begins, before being interrupted by a wild scotsman. Okay, if you're right, she'll be able to tell what he is, stay quiet. She turns to face the man, taking a few subtle steps back and - if permitted - ending up next to Margo, looking to the other woman in hopes of gleaming something from her face.
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George Henry Harris
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That was the moment when Jane decided she had seen enough and should do something. After sending a text to the boss, she headed to her bike and then followed them to the place, where everyone seemed to be meeting right now: the guy there, the girl and the roughly familiar 'tourist' who kept coming here though not belonging to the family... If that went on, boss would be pissed, really pissed...

"I guess I'd like to know that as well... The boss is on his way, so you'll stay here and make no trouble, until we have it all sorted out..."

Reaching the place, she got off her bike, tok the helmet off and approached them, a figure in black leather, six feet tall and looking like a regular visitor of gyms with a purple bandana aroud her head and her face displaying displeasure and a bit of anger. Perhaps Margo might have noticed her in the bar once or twice on her earlier trips here. Loking at the assembled persons as if wanting to say 'just wait and see, you'll be in trouble' she waited for something.

Edited by George Henry Harris, Tuesday, 22. July 2014, 18:34.
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Margo Moreau
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Margo had just started to respond to Anna when she saw the large man coming out of the darkness... Her eye also caught the one headlight of an approaching motorcycle. The Rose went on guard and more of her bruises cleared up. Her beast was getting pretty hungry.

Margo looked over at the hairy Gangrel as he called out to her. Her mystic senses quickly told her that she was dealing with another Kindred [Auspex: aura perception]. She growled "What do you think going on here?!" She gestured at the wheezing meat on the ground and looked at Rory, incredulous. She lifted her lip just enough so he could catch a glimpse of her fangs.

Then came Jane and her challenge. Margo turned her gaze on her and again read an aura. "Fucking hell!" Margo said looking around "I picked a deserted stretch of road and I run into half the monsters in South London!" She circled around to make sure her prey was still unconscious. Seemed so. But one of them was starting to groan.

Her attention snapped back at Jane "Who the fuck do you think you are talking to? I'll wait here for George if he wants to talk but take that tone with me again and I will be making trouble. For you!" She took a quick step and a snarl at her to illustrate the point. Margo was pissed off that her hunt had been interrupted. The whole point was to burn some shit off, and now it was a wash. At best.
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So, at least one of them was a Kindred, maybe not both, since she threatened the second one and threatening brujah is never wise.

Lampost, swing onto the nearby low roof, run. They wouldn't react in time to stop you, then fall down the other side, cling to the shadows and hope they move on. Or...lie, try and turn the situation to an advantage. Question is, will the Rose go for it and will they fall for it. Fuck it.

Abruptly, Anna moves closer to Margo and grabs her arm, whispering in a voice just loud enough to be heard, unintentionally, of course. "Please Mistress Margo, just tell them the truth, they'll let us go if you tell them you just wanted a fight, not food!" She then jumps slightly, realizing how loud she's being, before quieting her voice to a whisper. "That's why you brought me along, so I could feed you if you needed to heal too much, please just tell them that mistress, it'll all be okay!"
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Rory Alasdair
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* * *
Rory's aura was, of course, pale. A calm light blue dominated the shades of his aura, but it was darkening more by the second, and interspersed with sparks of hunger ((not sure if there's a colour for that, but I would think it readable in his aura)). Occasionally, it shifted with confusion when words were spoken that he didn't quite catch.

'Thought so.' The one baring her fangs and yelling was clearly Kindred. The other one... Not so sure. She could be a Ghoul, or just some unfortunate bystander about to be sacrificed for the sake of the precious Masquerade. Hopefully Kindred or Ghoul, tho', as Rory didn't necessarily feel like cleaning up a mess right now. Makin' one, maybe. But whether it was worth it was yet to be seen.

Then judging by the other girl's subsequent actions, and the few words he could glean from her hushed tone, she sounded more and more like she could be a Ghoul. If only the Gangrel could read Auras, that'd settle the little quandary in his mind.

With a gruff sigh, Rory spoke again. "Now calm down, lasses. I didn't wander over here to rile ye up." He kept his hands in his pockets still, remaining cautious. He'd wait for the 'boss', especially if it was Primogen Harris. He took a slow step back, just so he could keep them all in his line of sight, and hopefully appear less intimidating. Pissing off the whole of Clan Brujah was not in his plans for tonight.
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George Henry Harris
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Jane took a step back once Margo started snarling, but that was about all, as she didn't really understand the problem Margo seemed to have. Her reply came out in a pretty calm voice. After all the boss would be here soon and if she picked a fight, he wouldn't be happy... Her loss.

"Someone who not only breaks the rules but has a few times in the past already... As for the tone, I don't quite get why you're upset by it, it's the regular one for trespassers here..."

After a shrug to close the topic for now she turned her attention to Mr. Scruffy, who at least had the sense not to want a fight here. If he'd be helpful once Little Miss Pissed Off actually started one, was another question...

"I am calm, thank you... As far as I'm concerned there is no need for violence here, I'm just here to keep you at this spot until the boss is here..."

Anna just got a raised eyebrow as a reaction, before the questioning glance wandered back to Margo after Annas words. No further words were spoken but the look was asking her to explain obvious enough so words wren't needed in Jane's opinion.
Languages: English, Welsh
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Margo Moreau
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Margo wasn't sure exactly how to handle Anna's ploy, though she got the drift. She just shrugged and let people draw their own conclusions...

In any case, the thorny Rose was still taking out her anger on Jane. "What fucking rules?" Margo bit out her words "I've fed in the Ward since James showed me the ropes here, like eight years ago! So... newsflash! There is no trespasser here named Margo... and I will tell you what for tone since you asked. Geroge's ghoul you might be... but your a fucking ghoul. You don't bark orders at me. I got the message. George is coming and would like you to wait for him... Got it. Now shut the fuck up until he gets here."

She glanced at Rory and gave a little nod in passing. Everything happening right now? He was not the one pissing her off. Margo started to pace around looking at her hard fought dinner slowly starting to wake up. "Fucking hell" she spat. She gave the one groaning loudest another little love tap so he stayed down.
Edited by Margo Moreau, Thursday, 24. July 2014, 06:36.
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