Mark were at the bonfire, reading some sorta blog about how tah fix an issue with an RV tha was goin' on in camp. Domino's camper kept getting too hot even though the AC were running sah now dah question were whyyy. He was flipping through the blog, one ankle propped tah the opposite knee. His left hand had a beer he'd been sippin on fer the past half hour held in it, loosely.

Saila had been looking for a quiet moment alone with Mark for, well. Ever since that ill fated night at the MacIntosh funeral. She stepped out of the camper where she'd been checking in on Keirra, noticed the gypsy king conspicuously alone, and felt like she had no choice but to jump on that opportunity.

Casually, she crossed to the ever present cooler, helping herself to a beer which she took a moment to pull the top off of, then just as casually she moved to a seat in one of the camp chairs at Mark's side. "Hey Gypsy King," she said, toasting him with her beer. "Y'got a minute?"

"Oi," he said as greeting to her, lifting the beer he almost fergot about fer a swallow before he darkened the screen and shoved his phone in his back pocket, "You caught me at a good moment. Dah sky naht fallin' or nothing on me yet." There was a look skyward as if he could be contradicted befer he looked back tah her, "Whut's on yer mind?"

It just.. never really ever got any easier to broach this subject with anyone. Saila lifted her beer again, taking another long swallow fro its contents as she organized her words. "I know you know I'm different. I also know you don't love different things, so I haven't really... tried to explain myself to you much. But the short version here is that I learn things from everything I touch. Everyone I touch."

She ran a fingertip over the beer bottle she was drinking from. "For instance, right now, if it mattered, I could tell you the name of the gypsy who bought this, what was on his mind when he put it in the cooler, how long ago that was. I can also tell you the name of the man who bottled it in the first place, and also the woman who made the bottle."

Demonstration complete, Saila set the beer bottle down, leaning forward. Her elbows were propped on her knees as she closed the distance between them. Her voice was a hum, barely more than a whisper, when she spoke again. "All of which is to say, I met Ian."

Mark listened tah her, thinkin' that the beginning of whut she was saying sounded prettah ominious. His eyebrows knit a bit and he was wondering where she were gonna go with this. He listened tah her story and thought fer a moment dat it was unbelievable until he reminded himself o' all the unbelievable things dat he had seen and been part of in dah past.

"Yeah... Ian." There was worry that came across his face and he got no sort of pretend fer her on who the kid was or what that business was about. Jist the sort of worry that confirmed whut she was thinkin', iffin she doubted what she'd seen of the kid.

"He's a good kid," she said softly, and the expression in her strange eyes was nothing short of impressed. "And... particularly inspired, on your part. I knew you were smart, Mark, but damn that was genius." Retrieving her beer from the cupholder in the arm of the chair, she sat back a little, then, saluting him with it a second time before she took another swallow.

"Don't worry," continuing after a moment. "I haven't told anyone. I'm not even letting Quinn in on it," she tapped a temple, "...which is harder than it sounds, because I get it. Can't take any chances on him."

"Dave weren't tha only spy in town. Ian was young enough dat naht a lot of folks knew him by name and face yet. Only recently has he been shruggin off tha shackles o' bein' a teenage kid and joinin' all dah men in der ranks," Mark said it thoughtful, and then he added, "Yeah... I dun want Ian killed fer whut he's doin'. But it's got it's toll on him and I dun know how much more he can take."

Mark thought about chinese food and bruises. It made him take another swallow of his beer befer he looked at Saila, "Do yah think he's in ovah his head? Could yah... see dat when you touched him?"

Saila scratched at the corner of her jaw thoughtfully. It was an unconscious gesture, one she didn't even know she'd made, but if Mark had needed proof of her abilities, there it was. The gesture wasn't even a little bit hers. "....He's.... struggling. I won't say that he's not. It's a lot of weight he's got on him right now. But he's still very firmly on our side, or was when I saw him."

Mulling it over a moment, she nods. "He's loyal to you, that's without question. But he's pretty conflicted about some.. other stuff." She didn't want to give away the kid's secrets. At least, not his personal ones. "But between what I learned from him and what I picked up from those journals of Dave's... there's something gonna go down that I need to tell you about, because we're gonna need to go along with it but I want you to know in advance what's really up."

"Conflicted about some stuff?" Mark were takin' that tah mean that the kid was maybe naht happy with how he was leading things. Ian had seen the Barlow camp when his dad was running it, mostly. Now he was immersed with the MacIntosh crew. Whut conflicts could that mean?

That was all beside the point, and really and truly, a point o' pride more din anything. Saila was goin' on about tha other stuff, which put his thoughts tah that instead. "Whut do you mean, goin' on?"

Saila remembered what Levi had told her about gypsies valuing their privacy, their secrets, and especially now that Mark knew what she could do, she made no effort to touch him or otherwise assure him physically. It just... didn't seem smart. So she didn't know what line Mark's thoughts had taken, but still she struggled to find a way to verbalize what she'd meant.

"He's good. He's just .. it's hard to spend that much time with people and not begin to understand them on some level." It was the best she could do without coming out and saying oh, no worries Mark. He's just wrestling with his sexuality. That's all. Shaking her head, the girl took another swallow from her beer. "So...the Macs. They're going to make their move here soon. I don't know exactly when, but the plan begins with Dave kidnapping me to divert Quinn."

Saila rolled her eyes. "...Dave can't kidnap me, Mark. But I'm going to let him, anyway, because I'm almost positive I can turn him against Mac. I know a lot of what's in his head, and a lot of it has to do with his jealousy of Ian, and I ... am uniquely suited to use that against him."

"Yeah, I know dat," Mark scratched the back of his neck. He remembered their meetin' at tha Salty Dog and also how afterwards everyone was determined tah stay exactly where dey was and naht go anywhere. Mark had offered tha way out multiple times and it was yet tah happen. Nah. Dis were it and where dey were.

"You know dey plan tah kidnap you? Why would dey do that?" He had thought Grace would have been the target, especially after her little run in with Mac at the salon. There was an arch of his brow at the latter bit, "Why would he be jealous o' Ian?"

"...Because I matter to Quinn and Quinn's the scary one," said Saila in the flat monotone of someone who knew herself to be at least as scary, if not scarier, than the wolf in question. "They want to separate Quinn from the camp and I'm the best bait. Which... " she shrugged. "They're not wrong about that. But all they know about me and Quinn is that we're close, and that I might or might not be a wolf, too. So they don't know that the second somebody tells Quinn that I'm in trouble, he'll reach out to me and know that I'm not. Their plan doesn't work. But .... if it's cool with you, I want to pretend that it did so we can get the jump on them."

Mark was feelin' hesitant. Mehbe it were because he was kinda thinkin' everything over as he sat in his chair. Silence followed. He took another swallow of his beer and stared at the fire.

He was like dat fer about five minutes. Thoughts, questions and tha like started tah build in his mind and organize tah the point that he could speak with her.

"You talk tah Quinn about dis?" Mark weren't sure how tah avoid telling Quinn of it, now dat Saila had said whut she said. Something itches him, just at the collar at the back of his neck but he could not fully pinpoint it. Was kinda like walkin' intah a room but fergettin' why you'd stepped in there tah begin with.

Saila shook her head. "Not yet, no. You're the one in charge. I'm not doing anything unless you're okay with it." The purple girl gave him a one shouldered shrug. There was a time they'd collectively been in trouble for 'forgetting' who ran things. It wasn't a mistake the muse would make again. "...so, here's the thing. They're wanting to get Quinn out of camp so they can make a move on you. They're planning on holding me ... somewhere. I don't know where, but far enough that Quinn would have trouble getting back in time.

'What I'm proposing is this: I go with Dave when he 'kidnaps' me. Then I'll either turn him to our cause or disarm him, one. Then when Quinn reaches out to me, I tell him 'no, I'm fine, but come here anyway,' because that way they'll think their plan is working, right? Only... then I meet Quinn somewhere in the woods just outside here. So we're both much closer by than they think we are." She paused, using one finger to sweep a curtain of purple behind one ear. "Then, just when they're feeling all cocky and confident of their chances...Ian I guess reveals himself or does whatever it is he's planning on doing, and ... me and Quinn appear from the woods, and this is over."

"I think yah need tah speak with Quinn, din." He gave a small nod tah her jist then. Mark didn't like things tah go unknown tah him, dat was fer sure. Naht when at the end of the day folks looked at him like it was his fault. Mark listened tah whut she were saying.

"Whut makes yah think Dave can be turned?" Mark wondered about that. If anything, Dave had shown himself tah be a true soldier fer Mac, so whut sorta motive did he have tah turn on Mac? Was Saila's gift, whut se could see, also the sort that could persuade someone else?

He liked tha idea of Quinn naht really being gone, but it left him with a few questions still, "Whut about when dey draw guns? Won't all dat still be a big danger tah everyone? I am thinkin' if they reach camp armed, even with Quinn der, that they got an idea. How much do they know about Quinn and you, anyhow?" He were wondering if they had werewolf-preventing measures in place, whut with the wolfsbane in Quinn's scotch and all o' Dave's notes they found.

Saila nodded, a dim smile just barely perceptible on her features. At every turn, Mark seemed overwhelmingly preoccupied with what she was and wasn't sharing with Quinn; it made her smile because the whole notion of keeping things secret from Quinn was awkward and alien for her. It was against her nature, against the bond between them. It had been her deference for Mark that had her sharing all of this with him now instead of just formulating a plan with the wolf and running with it.

There was also that part of the teenager that was born, actually constructed for war. Military-esque strategic planning came faster to her, more naturally, than it should have.

Lifting her beer bottle, Saila drank from it thoughtfully, rolling the liquid around in its bottom once or twice before she finished it. "Dave is vulnerable because Dave is in a precarious position. He feels edged out by Ian, who seems to be able to do no wrong in Mac's eyes. This is particularly complicated because..." and here she paused, lifting her gaze to Mark. "Dave's in love with Mac."

She lifted a hand then, waving it aside. "I don't know that for a fact. It's the strong impression I got when I handled his journals. There's a longing in them, an ache that doesn't feel like ...brother to brother, or spy to leader. Maybe it's not love. Maybe he doesn't know he's in love. I haven't had my hands on the guy yet so I don't know for sure. But the doubt's there, and it's doubt I can use to wedge a crack a mile wide." A pause."Plus there's a lot there about how jealous he is of Levi and Quinn. That's my other clue." A faint smile.

"Whut? Der camp don't allow fer," Mark knew all the slurs for homosexuals cause everyone had heard dem growin' up. Fags. Fairies. Nancy boys. It weren't the words he liked tah use, naht even befer Levi had found his lifestyle. He paused and pressed his lips in a line and din spoke, pickin' his thought back up after dah moment o' reflection, "their camp dun allow fer men tah be gay or unarmed." They allowed plenty for blood and guts but naht the other. Societies could be dat way, he supposed.

But she were only sayin' dat Dave loved Mac. If it were consensual or reciprocated was a whole other thin'. Mark tilted his head to the side, swirlin' whut was of his beer in the glass as he looked tah the fire. Jealous o' Levi and Quinn? Mark nodded, din, "If he got a need fer the sort of love Mac would nevah be, or allow, din I would say you dah got a place tah wedge yer foot in." There was a nod and din a small smile which appeared, of the likes tah show he appreciated whut she was sayin' and thought it clever.

Saila smiled just a little -- seemed she'd proved herself useful to the gypsy king at last. "There's a lot of room," said the girl confidently. "I don't know that I can actually make him have a change of heart -- I've never tried? -- but I can," frowning then, she flicked her wrist, fingers flaring, "...subvert him to our cause long enough to get the jump on the Macs."

The teenager sat back then, stretching long legs out in front of her as she swallowed more beer, her bizarre eyes on the fire for a time. Eventually her gaze slides back to Mark, head tipped curiously. "I feel like you probably have questions for me...?"

"I dah, but I dun even know where tah begin," Mark admitted, puttin' tha bottom o' his beer glass tah his knee as he looked at her, "I dun ask thin's real hasty if I dun gotta. We obviously touched sah... I dunno." He laughed and looked at the fire, "It's kinda like someone was shown a picture of yah naked and you didn't know it til jist tha moment. I can't say dat I care fer it... but also, dat you musta known dat or you woulda swung by fer a chat."

There was his mild shrug which followed, sayin' much was still unsettled on tha matter. He cleared his throat and din looked at her, "You should probably get goin' tah see Quinn. Time's passin' us."

Saila's stomach sank, then, dropping like a lead weight at his words. This was the reaction she was most accustomed to, the recoil, the repulsion. Her tongue thick in her mouth, the girl swallowed with a quiet nod. "Message received," came her soft reply as she rose to her feet.

With nothing left to say, the teenager tucked her beer bottle in the barrel trash can, pulled a new one from the cooler, and set off for the woods in search of the wolf.

Saila, for her part, maintained her calm. The onslaught was as ferocious as it was furious, but she understood the motivation behind it and let it come. Swallowing more bourbon, she held up her free hand as they came to a stop. "One -- they're not going to shoot me. I'm no good as a negotiation tactic if I'm dead, for starters. For another thing, they don't think I'm worth the bullet -- I'm a non-entity to them right now. Two -- we'll come back to two in a minute." Saila was counting on her fingers as she went, holding the digits up one after the other. "Three-- I know Hex exceptionally well. Just like everyone else I touch. He doesn't know anything about the gypsies and wouldn't care if he did. Hex is very drunk and ordering car parts at the moment."

Swallowing more bourbon, the teenager cleared her throat before she continued. "Four. The only other person in that book that is attributable to me is a human named Aaron. He knows nothing about me except that I have a bunch of tattoos and like to get laid. Quinn, I love you. I know you're scared for me and I know why. But Big Bad, come on. You trust me to take down you, and suddenly you don't think I can handle a desperate human?"

Suddenly she handed him the bourbon bottle, thrusting it into his hand. "Now. Back to number two. Y'got a knife on you? Give it to me. I have a thing to show you."

Bending at the waist he pulled up the leg of his jeans and unstrapped the knife there offering it up to her by the handle. Typically you hand someone a blade by the blade and not the hilt, but, this one was silver and Quinn couldn't touch the blade on it. He knew she'd understand why he couldn't and hoped she didn't ask too many questions on why he had it. Either way it was held out to her. "I love you, I can trust you with me because I'd die before I hurt you. Now be ****ing careful it's sharp." He'd known about the junkie and didn't actually worry about him, he didn't really worry about Hex either. It was the point of the thing. He didn't like..."Wait...How do you know what Hex is doing right now if he's not here with you...Are you connecting with Hex?" He didn't mean ****ing, he mean like their bond.

Saila chuckled a little at that, taking the blade with a nod of thanks. "No, love. It's not like us at all. Hex is just..." Another soft laugh. "...Pretty predictable." Running a fingertip lightly over the silver blade, those mismatched eyes narrowed curiously -- knowing it for what it was, of course-- but she said nothing. Lifting her gaze to his once more, her expression is calm. "You said we don't know if I can regenerate. That's true, we don't. But here's what I do know."

Palming the handle of the knife in one hand, the other she reached over her head and behind her, grabbing that messy bun by the center. She twisted it once over her wrist to pull the hair taut. With a quick, steady and precise motion, she used her thumb as a guide as she pulled the knife through her hair just behind the bun. To further prove the point, Saila held some three feet of severed purple locks out all the way at her side, as far as her arm would reach, lowering the knife.

When she shook her head a couple of seconds later, violent violet tumbled, not to her chin where the newly shorn strands should have fallen, but all the way to her hips again. Just like she'd never made the cut at all, some sleight of hand. But the proof was there, still in her outstretched fingers. She'd cut it off, but it hadn't gone away. "Keirra wants to prank you with this sometime soon, so act surprised when she does, hm?"

A deep breath was taken and he nodded to her arm. "Try it there." He wasn't kidding, Quinn didn't joke about that kind of thing and as little as he wanted to see her hurt, he was scared ****less that they were sending her in as bait. "Because I don't know if you know what happens to bait Saila, but it never ends up well for the bait." Quinn leaned against the nearest tree and he felt himself up and down for a pack of smokes. Once found he opened the pack and brought it to mouth to snag one between lips and light it with the wolf Zippo.

Quinn didn't want to watch it, he just needed to know it before this whole thing went down. "Saila the last thing I care about right now is a practical joke from anyone. I am trying to discuss serious **** with you." Quinn had to calm down, he took a deep breath and spoke again. "I feel like you're not understanding the gravity of this situation."

Saila's smile fell away then, and she made a face, but relented a moment later. She stuffed her shorn locks into her bag for safekeeping -- Lesson Two Point Five. The distress rolling off the wolf was real, and palpable. "Hey, breathe. I was just trying to get you to smile. Here, check it out." The girl had done this before too, so there's no hesitation in the way she wraps one hand tightly around the blade of the knife, the handle held in the other, and then she pulls sharply on the handle, yanking it free of her hand.

Wincing, because the blade was sharp and that **** hurt, and sure enough blood seeped over her knuckles, spilling between them. She quickly wrapped her hand in the hem of her shirt -- Lesson Two -- and held it there for approximately five seconds while two of the tattoos on her right arm lit up underneath her sleeve. Then she pulled her hand free. The cut was there but bloodless. It looked several weeks old. "See?"

"So you heal really fast, that doesn't mean you can survive a bullet to the head. This guy tried to feed my wolfsbane. He put silver nitrate in the camp's food supply, he won't think twice about killing you." There was hurt there, Quinn had trusted Dave, he'd reminded Quinn of himself and it was painful to know that he would be so quick to kill him. Quinn didn't understand that it was for Mac, if he had, maybe he would have thought differently. Surely Quinn would have killed for Levi, any of his family. Maybe he had to see it that way.

Eyes up to her and he winced at the wound. He didn't like seeing it there. Luckily he knew it wouldn't need stitches, there was blood on the air now that made the hair on the back of his head stand on end. It wasn't easy for him still, sometimes he hoped it would be, but it never was.

"He's not going to kill me, Quinn." Saila's really very sure of herself on this point. She recognizes the hurt in him, though, and, without another word, she peels the shirt she's wearing off and stuffs it deep into her bag so the scent of blood is gone. Pulling out another one -- in the meantime she's wearing a totally cute neon green bra -- the teen pulls it over her head and tugs it down into place. There. With that done, she steps into her wolf, winding both arms around him.

"Hey," she says softly, coaxing. "Come on. Look at me. It's going to be fine, I swear."

It was about then that Quinn realized that this was one of those parental moments he never got to have. Arms wrapped around her and he just pulled her against his chest and hugged her tightly. He had to let her do this, and he would, he would hate every single second of it. He would lament the entire thing but he didn't have a choice. She was grown, and she was able to make these choices and he had to be okay with it. Petting her hair a moment he put a hand on each shoulder a pushed her to arms' length to speak to her. Those steel blue, almost silver eyes stared into her mismatched ones. "You listen to me, I don't care what kind of mission this is, I don't care what you think you know about him, you keep one hand on him at all times and listening to what's going on in his head. If he so much as thinks about hurting you, you run, you run as far and as fast as you can. Serpentine. Not even I can outrun bullets."

Lifting her gaze to his when he held her out at arms' length, Saila nodded. Her hands sliding off his waist, she raised them to rest lightly over his hands in kind. "I will." Touched by the emotional turbulence she could see in his eyes as clearly as she read it in his touch, the girl stepped forward again, tilting her head to gently kiss his cheek. "Thanks, Dad. I know this isn't easy on you, and I swear I'll be as safe as I can. But I can do this."