Voices bounce around her, slurred and fading in and out as if moving. After a few moments they clarify, feeding her information of two different individuals arguing a short distance away.

".... Dangerous."

A soft, honeyed feminine voice says.

"You're preaching to the choir here. What's the difference between the shit before and now?"

The deep, baritone rumble of a male replies, annoyance present but underlined by a vein of something far worse.

"This is very different. She has power. I'm not like the rest of my family, and even I can feel it from her. If she loses control-"

"I have never seen a mage of any kind mold earth, wind, and fire in such a way as she can. Control is something I feel she innately wields, and that is what you can't believe." The male interrupts, a growl slipping into his voice at the end.

"I know enough about power, and what it does to a person. You've seen my grandfather, and he was once a great caster. Now he's unable to do more than sit in a wheelchair as his body falls apart." Sorrow taints the female voice as it rises slightly in pitch.

"...Your grandfather over-assumed his ability and tried to control a class five tornado. That's power even warlocks don't dare touch."

The male says after a moment, his tone and volume softer as if comforting the female.

"And what of her? What can she do? What CAN'T she do?"

A sharp tone filters into the female's voice as it swings in her direction, making her bristle at the aggression there.

"..... She searched for me. That's more than others have dared to do."

He says with a rigidity straight from the core, filling the room with a certainty of intent that left silence in it's wake.

After a few moments Racheria groans softly and rolls, slowly opening her eyes as she sweeps her gaze around the dark room and locks on a built figure of white fur and dark clothing, a rifle strapped to his back as he gazes at her. After a moment he reaches over and clicks on a light, her memory catching up to her thoughts as she gazes at his face.

".... White?"

She asks, her throat feeling dry and sounding that way.

"Rach. You alright?"

He asks, crouching down beside her on the floor as she rolls onto her side.

"I feel like I've been starved of water, but other than that I'm fine." She says, shifting her body into a sitting position by the edge of the bed. White watches her closely, tension in his frame as his arms twitch slightly out towards her.

"Take it easy Rach. I don't know what happened, but something changed you somehow." He places his paws on her forearms and holds them with ease, a calming touch meant to sooth. "..... You glowed. I can't describe it any simpler than that."

She stares at him in wonder, studying his features for a hint of a joke or lie within. After a moment she nods, relief easing a tension that wasn't noticeable in his face prior. He releases his grip after a moment and places his paws on his knees, a series of clicks sounding out from the joints as he rises into a standing position.

"Okay, she's awake. I'll give you two some time to freshen up, then I'd like to ask some questions."

The honeyed voice says from a small hallway, drawing Racheria's attention to the vixen standing there. Her slim figure is defined by the fitted gray business suit she wears, her bronze colored eyes bright against the natural highlight of black fur. Narrow white fur pattern traces half her slim muzzle and cheek lines down her neck, vanishing from sight into the light gray undershirt.

"Who are you?"

Racheria asks, a faint but unnerving sensation from the female giving her pause.

"My name is Mara. I'm the manager of this hotel, among other things. With that, I will take my leave."

She replies, bowing once done and walking down the hallway.

After a moment the click of a door echoes out into the room, sharpened by the quiet ambiance throughout. White moves over to a small desk in the corner of the room and leans his rifle against it then kneels down, pulling his large bag out from underneath it and digging inside. After a few moments he repeatedly pulls out polymer and metal magazines, separating each into their respective groups. Racheria rises off the bed and watches White for a few moments, blinking her eyes at the amount of magazines already by his side and growing.

"Jeez, afraid of running out?"

She asks, not bothering to count any more once she reaches twenty altogether.

"Yep. Have had it happen too. Nothing worse than getting in a firefight and running out of rounds because no one else carries the right 7.62." He replies, turning his head and nodding towards the door beside the hall. "The bathroom is right there, with some cups as well if your throat is still scratchy."

Racheria nods, waving her paw at him lazily as she passes over the bathroom threshold. After pawing at the wall for a moment she flicks on the soft lights in the ceiling, glancing around at the few utilities before settling her gaze on a pair of small, upturned and shrink-wrapped glass cups on the upper shelf above the sink but below the mirror. Two steps and she stands before the sink, tearing through the plastic with her claws and crumbling it up onto the shelf.

-----------------------------

White zips open another section of the bag and checks over the boxes inside, several being 7.62 NATO while the heaviest pair being the sidearm calibers. Satisfied that no cartridges are loose or gathered in the bottom, he closes the section and moves to the largest one at the very top, dual zippers threaded with interwoven duracord that open half the entire bag. With a quick twitch of his arm he opens up the space, looking in at the various clothing and toiletries tightly bundled beside the heaviest thing inside the bag: a DWS ballistic plate carrier in OD green. Several rifle magazine pouches of similar color are weaved through MOLLE rigging, though all are empty and pressed flat against the 1000D nylon fiber of the plate carrier.

He studies the plate carrier for a moment then starts returning the magazines back inside, steadily dropping the piles down to three of each mag. As he zips closed the bag Racheria steps out from the bathroom, the subtle click of the light shutting off mixes with the mags tapping against each other in his paws while he rises.

"Your throat feeling better?"

He asks, glancing at her from the corner of his eye as he places the magazines on the desk.

"I can talk without feeling shattered glass pricking my tongue, so yeah." She replies, leaning her back against the doorjam and crossing her arms. "So tell me about Mara. You two seem familiar."

White chuckles and straightens out the magazines with the edge of the desk, keeping each group closer to their respective firearm leaning against the wood. "You could say that. We went to high school starting sophomore year, when her immediate family moved to my home state. We became something of good friends, seeing as we had similar interests and tastes."

"Yeah, in what? Silver tongues and weaponry?"

Racheria questions with a snort, perking an eyebrow at White.

"No. Literature and solitude. It may seem like a polar opposite, but I was quiet and read more than I spoke in those days. Hell, I barely knew anyone in my classes, let alone the social intricacies that would have announced a new arrival to the school." He says, facing her fully. "So when she had journeyed into one of the more secluded spots within the library where I was reading one day, she caught my attention."

With a sigh he gestures for Racheria to sit on the bed, plunking himself down at the foot of it as well. After a few moments he turns his head and catches her gaze, the slight furrow of her brow lending to the questioning look of her face.

"I wasn't quite the pleasant person I am now in those days. Most people avoided me, and rumors were abundant, though most were simply distant variants of some real ones. Add in my placid facial expression and various scars on my overly toned body for a sixteen year old, and no one would approach when I walked past." He says, facing forward and lifting up his right arm where a visible scar crosses his wrist muscles. "Thing is, I didn't care to dismiss the rumors. Each one benefitted me by causing fear in everyone else, and they left me be due to it."

"Turns out it was her first day in the school. She'd heard of a white Phantom within the building, but she hadn't heard enough of the rumors to understand that they referred to a living student." He continues, lowering his paw to rest on his thigh. "So she slumped down in one of the small seats of the corner and started to read what I thought was an advanced book for her, 'Metallurgy and Dynamic Structural Integrity, Vol. 1.' After a few moments though I just returned to my own, some metalsmith's booklet on various steel alloy mixtures and the various forging temperatures needed to maximize strength retention."

"Some time later on we'd both pass on our separate ways for classes, but it became a daily thing. We'd settle into the corner with a mechanical or technological book, read, and just simply never bother each other. After a while people started to follow after her for some odd-ass reason, but I think I became something of a safety net for her. If people were too aggressive, she'd walk alongside me in between classes. If bothered or confused in a class, she'd take a seat nearby me and ask for my assistance. And if some tried to force something of her around me...."

A low chuckle vibrates out of his chest as he closes his eyes, drawing deep breath into his lungs then releasing it. "Well, people realized that I have certain morals about the use of force on others, and that they shouldn't try to break it when I'm in the area."

-----------------------------

Racheria turns her head back and forth between White and the hallway Mara went down, eventually settling her gaze on him.

".... Was she as loyal to you as you were to her?"

She asks, folding her paws together within her lap.

"Perhaps. I didn't talk about my personal life much, so nothing could really affect me." He replies, pushing off his knees and rising. "Anyway, are you alright? Not feeling lightheaded or anything?"

Racheria shakes her head, rising off the bed and rolling her neck until small cracking sounds escaped. White nods and walks past her, patting down the left hip pocket of his fatigues as he fades into the hallway. She gives quick glance at her rifle leaning by the desk, but jogs after him as she hears the door open up. Soft murmurs filter into her hearing as she clears the corner, fading away as she catches sight of White waiting against the doorjam with the door propped open by his boot. He waves at someone outside then looks over at Racheria, perking his eyebrow at her before standing straight.

Racheria nods and walks past him into the softly lit hallway, looking down both sides as he closes the door behind her with a subtle click. After a moment he taps her left shoulder as he walks past, the uncovered fur on his body glowing as he passes under a light towards the well-lit opening. Racheria pauses for a moment then picks up the pace to walk beside him, having to nearly jog from the wide steps White takes to stay even. As they enter into the well-lit area he gestures towards a stairway just beside it, turning his body with a sharp but fluid motion towards it.

".... I don't know all of what Mara's going to ask, but there's likely going to be something as to your intentions for here," He says while walking down the stairs, giving a quick glance at the raccoon male seated at the front desk. "So that's the simplest thing to answer: We're just passing through on our way to Denver. Anything else, keep short. The less she knows about you and what you hired me for, the better."

"Why? If she's capable, shouldn't we try and invite her?"

Racheria questions while staying a half step behind, gliding her paw against the guiderail on the right.

"She's capable of excellent design work, but her knowledge of underground living is limited. She's too drawn in to the legality of everything, rather than morality." He says, turning his head to look back at her. "I don't want to, but some things might have to be veiled from public eyes."

Racheria stumbles at the base of the stairs from the sudden shift of color in his eyes, the chilling blue fading to gray with his last sentence. 'Damn those eyes of his are eerie.... What the fuck does veiled from public eyes mean?' She quips mentally, steadying herself with a sigh as he turns around the right hand corner. As she turns the corner White gives a glance towards her then knocks on a door, Mara's voice inviting them in after a moment. With that he opens the door and strides in, holding the door open for Racheria like an old style gentleman once inside.

"Please come in and take a seat. I don't bite.... hard."

Calls out Mara from behind a worn wood desk, a vertical triple monitor setup towering on one side while various papers and plastic folders are neatly organized behind a brass titleholder.

-----------------------------

White facepaws and gives a short groan at Mara, peeking through his digits at Racheria's perplexed face.

"Really? Of all the invitations, you choose that one?" He remarks, tugging Racheria clear of the doorway. "She's joking, so take a seat."

He shuts the door and stands beside it for a few moments as Racheria settles in one of the deep leather chairs before Mara's desk, a small ceiling fan spreading a glaze of yellowish light over the entire room. Quiet sounds reflect into his sensitive hearing as he focuses on what is behind the shut door, filtering out the chatter from the females in the room. The soft click of someone typing a short distance to the left is nearly deafened by the music scourge known as country, blasting out of what must be earbuds based on the audio distortion. To the right is the enticing sound of pleased feminine moans somewhere further down the hall, along with the occasional groan of a male.

Satisfied that no one is listening in, he turns around only to find both Mara and Rach staring at him with questioning and wary gazes respectively. He gives a dismissive wave of his left paw as he moves over to the other guest seat, easing his body in without the squeaking noise of unused leather.

"Anyway, what is the extent of your magic?"

Mara asks with fatigue, rubbing her forehead with her paw.

"Not far. Maybe a hundred yards or so at best."

Racheria replies, giving White a look from the corner of her eyes with an amused lift to the edge of her lips.

"Not that extent." Mara quips, a sigh passing through her lips as she folds her arms on the desk. "I meant what can you control. Fire? Water? Wind?"

"Yep."

Is Racheria's simple reply, shifting in her seat and swinging her leg over the other.

White rolls his eyes as Mara buries her face into her paws, a drawn out groan from her nearly covering the subdued chortling from Racheria. The scene would have almost been something along the comedic lines of two friends meeting again, but he knows that Racheria is merely trying to get a rise out of Mara. After a bit of quiet muttering Mara lifts her head up, directing her agonized gaze at White.

"I don't know and didn't tell her to do shit Mara, so don't ask me."

He says before she can get a word out, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I wasn't going to ask that White. What I am asking, is why you're traveling so heavily armed. Are you even licensed for those rifles of yours?"

She says, her tone going from exasperated to aggressive as she sits up straight in her chair.

"I'd watch your tone Mara." He says in a low growl, flicking up the digit on his paw in succession. "One, I don't have to answer that. Perks of my profession. Two, doesn't matter to you because I'm not here to distribute or trade anything. And Three, and probably the most important: I'm a paying customer."

"That you are. And like all other business owners, I can refuse service to anyone I feel. Including you."

She replies, the barely hidden threat snorted off by White.

"Then why bother questioning why we're here, if you're only going to try and call the police to remove us? Oh, and by the way, I'd keep your paws where I can see them." He says, pointing to the top of the desk where nothing lies. "If you want us to leave, I'll leave peacefully. Either now, with my entire refund, or in the morning like I had paid your ridiculous price for."

Mara perks her eyebrow then places her formerly sliding paw back on the surface of the desk, along with the other one. White sighs and leans forward in his seat, cupping his paws together as Racheria stares at Mara with a deadpan expression.

"..... You know the feeling of an approaching storm as it dances on the horizon? The pressure as it builds in the air around you?" He notes, drawing a nod from Mara. "Well that feeling has been growing for some time, and it's only gotten worse as people I once maintained contact with have gone silent. There's a storm coming Mara. It won't hit tonight, or tomorrow, but it will it, and I'm going to weather it. So I'm asking this of you: Is the price of your perceived security greater than allowing a security contractor a night's rest?"

Mara perks her ears up at the security contractor portion, blinking at White then sliding her gaze over to Racheria. After a few moments of visible contemplation she sighs and nods her head, shifting her focus to the three screens and quickly typing something on a slim keyboard in front of them. After a bit of silence save for the light clacking of the keys, she turns and gives them both a long gaze.

"Alright, You're set in the room for the next two nights as well. Also I gave you a bit of a discount, but in return I want you to check something for me White..."