Edyta
She arrived, the purr of the BMW engine whisphering through the dawn dewed fauna, just as the sun have opened an eye and blinked lazily like a waking cat to peak over the horizon and start the morning ascent. Early enough that the streets had been quiet all the way down into the Barrens area where the roads quality disintigrated somewhat with the crumbling edges of the asphalt and pot holes every once in awhile... She pulled up outside the cabin that he had claimed as his own and slid from the vehicle, a quite feline approach in line for the porch.

Konrad Vrdoljiak
Konrad? Quite nocturnal.
Dawn? Bedtime.

The cabin, as before, is quiet. The windows are dark. There's no shape hulking under the table, though. No smoke rises from the chimney, and silence reigns supreme.

Edyta
Silence... she liked silence, the quiet stillness in that moment that blinked by just before the people awoke and rose to their daily business. She quietly took to the porch steps with steel-capped boots barefully placed on each wood plank slick with overnight tempretures and a fine mist of rain the previous night. At the door she checks to see if it was locked.

Konrad Vrdoljiak
Which it isn't. It opens quite easily, in fact, if she simply turns the handle and pushes...

Edyta
Unlocked... a simple turn of the handle and the door slides inwards, revealing the interior and allowing a gust of chilled morning air into the cabin. Then again, you're a monster, why would you need to lock doors, right? Burglars = Midnight Snacks.

Konrad Vrdoljiak
And just like that, chill metal hisses through air and lays against the side of her neck, the point of a sword pressing motionless and gentle into her skin. His voice is warm with his particular, cruel amusement. "You should really call before you come."

There's no phone.

Edyta
She stood motionless, a statue bathed in the cool warmth of the dawn's rising colors, for a moment as he spoke before pressing against the sword gently with the side of her neck. A hand rose slowly and pushed against the sword shaft as she stepped to one side away from the weapon threat. She stared at him, the silence that had reigned previously turning frigid as if someone had thrown a switch. She actually stared... in his eyes. Of her own volition.

Konrad Vrdoljiak
Looking back at her, there's only the faintest of smiles curving the edges of his mouth. It's a mouth that one woman might call sensual and another cruel and, in truth, is something of both. Twelve or twenty-four hours of beard growth shadows his jaw, and he's obviously dressed for bed - soft-fabric pajama bottoms slung low on his hips, drawstring untied, and nothing else.

Abruptly, Konrad laughs. His free hand rubs across his face, scrubbing sleep from his eyes, and he lifts the sword away - lifts it high, stabs it down into the ground. Thokk-- a thick, heavy double-edged thing, the blade sinks two inches into the rough wood floor of his cabin and stays there, gently swaying as he removes his hand. Light scatters in concentric, imperfect circles from honed steel. He circles to stand before her, where she could look at him without craning her neck about. "You really pick the most awful times, do you know that?"

Edyta
He circles to stand before her and she turns her head to follow the movement before she softly cants her head to one side and continues to watch him, a mask of indifference in her expression. A whisper of sounds as she moves out of the way of the door and nudges it closed with her heel. A soft susurration of material and fainter creaks of the leather trousers that she'd poured herself into like a second skin. Her scent was wreathed in spicy smell of that new leather, overlaid with the the crisp dew dampness of the winter morning. She'd roped her hair thickly and twisted it up, secured at the crown of her head with a silence clasp. It had the smell of dampess and the lingering tinge of scented shampoo. She'd bathed very recently, then. She stares into his eyes still and lets the silence draw out before breaking it with a quiet, nuetral, "I consider it a talent."

Konrad Vrdoljiak
"Could've gotten you killed." Spoken lightly, this, because there was little love lost between them, and he made no pretense. "Probably will get you killed one day." Laughing again, he reaches forward to touch the back of his hands to her cheek. "Learn to knock, Edyta, if you value your life - hm? Though, I do love surprises."

A step closer, and another, bending to her until she might think he would try to kiss her. He doesn't, though. That much is an unspoken agreement between them. He pauses mere inches from her and inhaaaales, straightening at last on the slow, languid exhale. The corners of his mouth curl again.

Edyta
She snaked out a hand towards his abdomen, hooking a finger under the waist of the low-slung pyjama bottoms and pulled lightly. She slowly inclined her head to look down as she slid her finger one way and then the other on the inside of the waistband and gives a slight rise and fall of her shoulders, looking up after a moment, "Soft." That was all she said, perhaps just ignoring his last mocking comment. When wasn't his mocking? She also had no reply to the stating of the the fact that one day something like this could get her killed. It was true and she accepted it. She then released the pyjama material and stepped away from him, walking around him and into the living room, reaching up to release the coiled hair from the silver clip. It fell as a pale gold waterfall down around her shoulders and face, patches of it still damp.

Konrad Vrdoljiak
When wasn't he mocking, indeed? Once...maybe twice, if those weren't tricks of the mind, nothing more. His gaze follows hers to the fabric of his pajama bottoms, flicker up: his eyes sheen gold as her hair (slipsliding sleek from its stay) in the morning sun. The cool brush of her touch tautens the skin of his abdomen, but other than that, he betrays little enough response.

"Yes," Konrad replies, always amused by her as he reaches out to take the clasp from her and turn it in the light. "A pretty thing," he decides, and holds it out to her. "Silver, isn't it?"

Edyta
"Yes," was her only answer as she takes the clip back from his hand and slides into one of the side pockets of the hooded sweater that fell in soft folds around her torso. She slides a hand through her hair, fingers combing through several snags of the damp length.

Konrad Vrdoljiak
"Insurance?" his only answer back to her, turning about to prowl looselimbed and straightspined back to the sword thrust into the ground. Muscles bunch and jerk as he yanks it back out with a squeal of metal on wood, and there's something pantherine, leonine, about his barechested form as he crosses the room to slam the sword into an ugly scabbard laid on the ground of the hallway leading into what is, presumably, the only bedroom in the cabin.

Edyta
"Fashion," she replied, again with a singular word. Miss Communicative this morning, wasn't she? She crossed to the sofa and seated herself against the edge of it, crossing her arms, pale long boned fingers wrapping around each of her upper arms. She watched him prowl from sword to scabbard without any additional commentary.

Edyta
"Fashion," she replied, again with a singular word. Miss Communicative this morning, wasn't she? She crossed to the sofa and seated herself against the edge of it, crossing her arms, pale long boned fingers wrapping around each of her upper arms. She watched his prowl from sword to scabbard without any additional commentary.

Konrad Vrdoljiak
A soft laugh. "Of course." That little bit of housekeeping done, he sets the sword in a corner and looks at her, expectant. "So. Edyta. Did you want something? Hiding out from an irate Garou, perhaps?" Gentle, gentle, and bladedly, assuredly amused - "Will I be called upon to perform my duty any moment now? Protect my ...beloved mate?"

Edyta
She stared at him for a long moment in silence, a slither of glacial coolness entering the indifference of her expression. "Fuck you, mate," she then exclaimed smoothly, tone gelid, and it didn't sound like it was an offer of doing so, either. She pushed off the edge of the couch then, arms still crossed, and headed into his kitchen, movements like a feline on the prowl.

Konrad Vrdoljiak
Eyebrows rise. To think, he'd been ready to go to bed and sleep, too - but some sport is too interesting to turn down. He follows her into his kitchen, overtaking her, slipping around her to stand in her path.

"What was that?" Soft and smooth and - yes - mocking; but perhaps with a touch of genuine interest. Curiosity. "A show of emotion, was it?"

Edyta
He steps into her path and she doesn't stop her movement forward until their personal space clashed and battled and he ended up with her so flush up against him that the material of her clothes tickled across his bare chest. She leans forward the last distance, forehead brushing against his chest with a feather wisp of her hair tickling as she turned her face and ran the line of her cheekbone against the same skin before turning her face upwards to look at him, or perhaps at his throat. She said nothing as she then leaned back and stepped around him once more so that he was no longer in her path as she headed for the fridge.

Konrad Vrdoljiak
He doesn't raise his arms to touch her, embrace her, cage her. She has a strange and eldritch way; when she moves away, around, he turns to keep her in his predator's sight. A single word that is a question - "Sona?"

Edyta
"Yes?" was her soft sigh of a reply as she grasps the handle of the fridge and pulled it open. She leaned down slightly, one hand still holding the fridge door open and the other on her thigh, fingers splayed, creating a triangle between arm, torso and thigh. Her eyes look in the predominant contents of the cool box: meat and milk. Just what every growing boy needs... She doesn't remove anything, just straights slowly and closed the door softly. She turns to him after a moment and leans against the length of the fridge with arms crossed and an eyebrow slightly raised.

Konrad Vrdoljiak
It's his turn to be silent; it's his turn to stare at her, intent as an unfed animal. There is light slanting in from a window. It pools at his feet and reflects up, dimly glowing on the underside of his nose and jaw, and along the taut lower curves of his musculature. Most of all, it lingers coiled in his eyes, malleable.

Finally, a small movement - an inclination of his chin, a curve of his mouth. "Simply testing, is all," he tells her, and gestures at the fridge. "Help yourself. I'm going back to bed."

Edyta
She breaths in deeply, closing her eyes as she leans against the fridge. As she exhales slowly she opens her eyes slightly and watches him through a criss-cross of lowered lashes, the deep blue of her eyes the only slash of a color visible. She straightens up as she pushes off the fridge door with a flick of one hip and pads across the distance seperating them. Their personal spaces arch with unseen sparks of their clashing auras; coiled rage vs glacial stillness. She places a hand against each of his upper arms, cupping his shoulders with the warm press of skin before sliding her hands down his arms to his forearms before they wrap around his wrists, encircling either with a ring of fingers. She looks at him, a slow lift of her chin as she tilts her head upwards, before her head tilted to one side.

Konrad Vrdoljiak
He looks down at her, a smile on his mouth, laughter in his eyes. His amusement is an animal thing, devoid of human compassion. His wrists turn in the bracelets of her hand, and he enwraps her wrists as she does his, brings her hands to his lips, and kisses the knuckles.

"Later, Edyta." It's Edyta, again; he flexes forward and drops a kiss on her pale golden hair. "I'm tired, and you're freshly washed. It would be a crying shame to get you all messy, again."

With that he extricates himself, turns, and heads for the bedroom.