#baronyofthesilverwolf

Gladiola checks first on the horse trail where Dee described where the mortal got his leg bit into, looking about.

The trail is quiet, but for the sounds of the night.

"Smell anything Ivan"She looks for tracks

Recent ones.

He obediently lowers his nose to the ground, but there are no fresh tracks. For a moment he is distracted by a rustling sound. - but no, it's just some small creature in the branches of a tree. Ivan turns, looking back down the trail towards the city, where the scent trail led, and was lost. It doesn't look like she doubled back - signs indicate that the truant childling is somewhere in town.

"You're right, Ivan. Good boy. " She guides him across the street, "Let's go see if someone is still selling burgers and work our way out from there."

The sun has set, but it's not that late, in the grand scheme. There is still some light left in the sky around the edges, and while past a childlings' proper time to stay, if not in bed, at least at home, Carthage is still active. It's a warm summer evening, it's the last week of school, graduation and 4th of July is coming up! What isn't there to celebrate?

She looks about, deliberately taking narrow alleys with Ivan by her side on her way to where Al works. "If you smell Briar again, let me know, Ivan."

Ivan lowers his nose... He's a dog, and a smart one, but he's no bloodhound. For a moment he is overwhelmed with all the smells of the city,,, but then he focuses in, and is on a trail. Ivan bounds ahead - that is, unless he's leashed?

SHe chases after him.

"Ivan, slow down " She commands so he does not get out of sight

The store is closed, and silent, lights off, it's well past business hours. Ivan looks... sheepish, sniffing again, looking for a trail he thought he had...

"It's okay boy." She pats him . She checks to see if the place is locked

Locked tight, and there is a sun-faded sticker from a security company, 'Business protected by...' etc.

The dumpster in the alley smells... strongly of old meat and other odds and ends, not pleasant in the least in the day's fading heat.

"Given who we're looking for, I can't blame you . It's okay, Ivan. Sometimes we do our best and stil don't get it right. the secret is not to let it discourage you" assuring "You're still the bestest boy. Now, let's go visit Al"

His tail gives a single wag, though it still droops a bit, disappointed in himself.

As they walk back towards town center, suddenly she hears a voice calling out, curiously. "Gwen? Oh, Gwen, hi!" From a outside dining table at a bar and grill she's passing.

She turns to see who is calling?

Angela Chesterton, mother of one Chuck Chesterton, though it takes a moment to recognize her with her hair up and back, and wearing a bar apron with a notepad sticking out of the pocket. She waves.

"Oh, hello" she says gently, and reminds Ivan "she's a friend" quietly "How are you?"

"I'm doing well, how are you? Better now that finals are over, right?" She smiles, chatting even as she moves glasses and plates into a bus tub. She does look well, the smiling waitress is a better look on her then the cowed and cowering housewife.

"You look great" she means it. She's a fan of angela and the woman has become a dreamer to her "Keeping up on that amazing art?' then she adds "i'm looking for a friend but i don't see her'

"Oh, well, I don't have all that much time to myself, but I do little doodles on the receipts, and I think it gets me better tips." She smiles. "Don't tell Chetty, but I managed to get the manager to book out the patio here for a little Graduation party for him next week. It won't be much," She cautions, "But I can swing some wings and pitchers of soda, and maybe one of those sheet cakes they have over at Foodmore."

"You're awesome" A grin, and it cheers Gwen to say it. Angela was better for knowing Gwen, and yes, vice versa. A win she really needed to be reminded of

"Here's the information..." Angela scrawls it on a ticket and hands over. "Make sure his friends all know? I'd trust you better to know who he'd want invited." It's for next week, so after 4th of July, when they have their campout planned for... a sudden rush of heat to Gwen's cheeks at the thought, though she may be too stalwart to let it show.

She takes it, "I will" She is grateful both for her copper hued skin and for her troll resolve He'll like my graduation gift best I think

"Did you want to stop in for a snack? I could get you some fries and a coke. Teenagers are always hungry, and your dog is welcome on the patio..."

"Thank you kindly, but I really should go find my friend if I can" she does look in the window on the off chance she sees any redcaps

She sees bar flies, mainly, slurping at their pints as they watch the game. There are some teens in the back - she might recognize some of them from school? But no one Briar's age... or height, that she notices. No fae seem to be present.

And she says "Chuck's gonna love your idea. Let me know if I can chip in for buying a few things"

"Do you know where I can get a good cake? I was worried that it might be too late to get one at the market what with all of the graduations, but time just got away from me. I had hoped that Brett would help me bake one, he used to love cooking, but unless it's part of an X Box game, not likely these days." She laughs a little.

"My mom makes a great cake" she boasts

"Angie, another round for table seven!" Calls a voice from within!

"Would it be too much trouble...?" She asks, edging back towards the door.

"Not at all. I'll call you and find his favorite sort"

She makes a shooing motion "I won't keep you." A smile

"You're a lifesaver!" Angela - Angie! Beams at her, and returns to work. Gwen continues onward from Jose' O'Connor's, the town's local Irish pub with a Mexican flair. At least, they serve sangria and nachos, along with pints of Guinness.

A chucklee, glad she's happy.

And she moves towards Chatterbox

Ivan heeling

Chatterbox diner is just a few streets down. Their ancient neon light flickers and pops, but the sign doesn't NEED to glow 'Open' to show that business is on. A stocky form is visible behind the register counter, moving at the flat top which sizzles and smokes.

Inside, most of the tables are empty... most.

Gwen goes in

And, yes, her dog follows.

A rattle of an ancient bell that hangs on a chain at the door, and the cook and proprietor turns, his craggy expression set in a perpetual scowl.

"No dogs." He growls over the counter.

"That's not a dog, that's my support animal slash Rape Whistle with teeth" Gwen proposes

A Never bounces against the bell!

There's a shock of neon-blue hair in a back booth, nose (and focus) deep in an open sketchbook.

She turns "Hey, Trina"

"I don't care if it's carrying your goddamn bleeding heart on a string. NO DOGS." Leaning forward over the counter now, a full glower in place.