All doorways in the front part of the house lead to the front hallway, a J-shaped area with the short tail starting at the stairs, the front door hitting the bottom curve, the doorless opening to the living room halfway up the long side, and the also doorless opening to the kitchen and dining room at the very top. The hall has a simple wooden floor, and decorated with a generic print of soft-colored flowers hanging on the wall to the right of the front door, and a tall table sitting under the print which serves as a place to toss keys. A closet under the stairs serves as a place to hang coats or to toss shoes.
The doorless opening to the living room is halfway up the side of the hall's J, and the word cozy might spring to mind when looking into is, as it seems to radiate comforting vibrations. A long couch sits against the south wall beneath a large bay window curtained only by sheers that manages to obscure the view in but only filters the day's light. A variety of out-of-date magazines are strewn atop a low coffee table; more neatly presented are the plethora of books filling the small bookshelves which line the eastern wall. Three chairs sit about the room, focused inward, to allow group conversations. Large floor pillows are stacked in one corner of the room, except one, which lies carelessly in the middle of the floor, apparently left out the last time it was used.
An opening in the northern end of the hallway allows access to the kitchen and dining room at the back of the house, while carpeted stairs twist up at the other end of the hall, leading to the second floor. A door at the base of the J lets out to the front porch.
A lathe-turned wooden railing runs the length of the porch save where the steps are, well-worn with use. To the right of the stairs, a wide swing is suspended from the overhang which shelters this area; to the left, a small table is the centerpiece for several chairs pulled around it, all of which face out to the front yard and the fields and trees beyond. The biting cold of winter is tempered somewhat by the sheltering of the roof, but it is still enough to make the porch an inhospitable place to tarry for long. Even the low shrubs seem to avoid it, their leafless woody stems closed in tight upon themselves.
An aging screen door newly refurbished stands between the heavy inner door of the house and the outside air. Four steps lead down to the lane, a number of pots with small flower seedling carefully arranged alongside them.
Jarred turns to the stairs, smiling. "Hello."
A bit of a clumping on the stairs precedes and announces Bernie's arrival before she appears, bouncing not-too-lightly down them, backpack on her shoulder. She glances over the banister with some surprise as she's addressed, and smiles, with a friendly, "Heya!" as she steps onto solid ground.
Jarred says "Just relaxing for a while before I head back to town."
Jarred is sitting on the couch, fiddling with a palm-top computer, talking to Bernie.
Alicia peers in through the door, then casts her gaze over, grinning. "Hey Bernie! C'mere, I want you to meet someone!"
Bernie regards the young man, and wanders over, "I keep doin' that too. Works nicely, I think. Whatcha got?" She looks at the computer with some interest, though Alicia's call distracts her. "Yeah?" she glances back to Jarred, "'scuse me a sec...." and starts curiously toward the door.
Alicia pops back out after a quick grin, leaving the door open for her.
Alicia smiles to Bernie, then motions to Tom. "Hey Bernie, this is my boyfriend Tom."
Bernie steps out the screen door, looking somewhat intrigued as she follows Alicia. She smiles at Tom, and lifts a hand in a light wave, "Heya... niceta meetcha, Tom."
Tom nods a little. "Hi there," he says with a faint smile. He folds his hands behind his back, tilting his head to one side. Okay, so he's not really sure what to talk about.
Alicia smirks a bit and pokes Tom in the side, turning to her friend. "He's a kin of the Children of Gaia, my tribe. He comes out here sometimes to hang, but the higher up's usually give us a hard time because of the age difference. Hey Tom..do you like RPG's?" She mirrors Bernie from last night.
Bernie nods to Alicia's explanation, looking just slightly shy for a few moments, and comments, "I r'member you tellin' me an' Matt 'bout it the other night, yeah..."
Tom grunts a bit as he's prodded. He peers at Alicia and shrugs, "Not...really," he admits with a half smile. "Sorry." He shrugs apologetically, then peers back to Bernie, "She's talking about me an awful lot, I hear..."
Alicia rolls her eyes slightly and gives a half shrug to Bernie. ==Oh well, more fun for us.== She drawls in the head of the Bone Gnawer, using that gift again. "Hey guys, I gotta go for a bit, I promised Ah'd stop over at Helen's and talk to her about some stuff." Leaning up on tip toes, she gives Tom a kiss on his cheek, then smiles.
Bernie mms, and nods again, "'kay... see ya later, then, if y'r 'round..." She smiles at Tom again, repeating, "Niceta meetcha... I'm gonna go back in an' be less rude, I kinda 'scused myself in a hurry." A wave as she reopens the door.
Alicia waves to Bernie and darts off quickly. "Bye guys! I'll call you tonight baby!"
Tom nods a bit, "Alright. Bye then."
[...thus abandoned, Bernie goes to the park...]
It's cold. It's cloudy. It's dark. Despite this, the bench by the fountain is currently occupied, and by a girl who doesn't appear to be trying to sleep there, either. She's lying on her stomach across the seat, knees bent, feet in the air and crossed at the ankles, an old green plastic Scooby-Doo flashlight in one hand, the beam falling across the pages of a book she has open before her. A small bag of chocolates sits beside it, and periodically she plucks one form it with her free hand and pops it into her mouth. A slightly wilted flower has been haphazardly stuck into the unruly curls behind one ear, and on close approach, one might notice that she seems to be humming to herself, very softly.
Marcus's cab can be heard coming down the street. It pulls up to a stop and the cabbie gets out. He doesn't apparently see the girl on the bench, because what he's really looking for is a bush. The poor cabbie has to pee, and pretty badly it seems. He finds a likely candidate and disappears behind it to relieve himself. When he comes back out, he certainly does look /much/ relieved.
Bernie is distracted from her book by the various rustlings and, er, tinklings than fill the air, and looks up, scanning the area for the source of the sounds. Of course, since she doesn't think to use the flashlight to do so, she doesn't really see all that much.
Marcus pulls his jacket closed and begins to make his way back up to his car. Looking around, he spots the girl on the bench and, because of what he was doing, he flushes with embarassment. "Uh, hi."
The light glints off the girl's teeth as she grins, and then she does think to use the light, managing to accidentally shoot it straight into the visitor's eyes for a second. "Hey!" she greets him cheerfully, then, "... um, oops... sorry 'bout that...."
Marcus squints, temporarily blinded. He lifts a hand to block the beam of light, and to try and get a look at the girl's face. Chuckling quietly, he says, "S'alright. Sorry, too. Didn't mean to, you know, 'disturb' you. What are you doing out here on a cold night like this?"
Bernie shrugs a little, directing the beam back at her book as she looks at it. "Jus' readin'," she replies brightly, "an' it's not -that- cold." A slight pause, "...well, act'ly maybe it is, but I didn' notice 'til now." She holds out the little bag of sweets in offering, "Chocolate?" After a second, she adds slightly teasingly, "...I'd ask what you were doin' out here in th' cold too, only I think I got that one figgered out..."
Marcus once again flushes with faint embarassment. He ducks his eyes, but can't help smiling a little. coming forward, he thanks the girl with a nod and takes the offered chocolate. "Yeah. Been a busy day." He pops the sweet into his mouth and makes an appreciative noise. "didn't realize how hungry I am."
"Oh, have more then," Bernie offers, pushing the bag forward again, "or I got slim jims an' cheese and crackers an' stuff, if you want." She reaches over with her free hand and flips the book shut and the flashlight off as she shifts in place, ending sitting crosslegged in the middle of the bench, the better to converse.
Marcus takes at least one more, as well as finds himself a seat on the recently vacated end of the bench. "Thanks. I think I'm gonna go over to Andy's though, get some coffee and a late dinner. Whatcha reading?"
Bernie picks the book up almost reverently from beside her, pulling it into her lap. The volume looks just about brand new, and her fingers move lightly over the cover. "It's a collection of Beat poetry and prose excerpts," she replies, speech suddenly, though apparently not intentionally, clearer and more correct. That passes as she continues. "It was a hol'day gift," she explains, sounding rather thrilled about the fact.
Marcus grins, both at the book and the look in the girl's eyes. "Jack Karuac?" he asks, eyes glinting as he leans back.
Bernie nods, "An' Allen Ginsberg, an' Gregory Corso, anna buncha others, also...." She gives the book a gentle pat, and leans down to pick up her backpack, carefully sliding both the book and flashlight inside. The bag of candy, once a few more have been removed, disappears into another pocket. "Have you read 'em?" she queries.
Marcus nods, emphatically. "Yeah. Cabbies have to. It's in the handbook. He winks. "Just kidding. No, I love them. Been readin'em since I was a kid. My name's Marcus, by the way." He offers a hand.
That earns quite a grin, and then a nod. "Cool! I hadn' read 'em 'fore now..." She accepts the hand, giving it a fairly firm shake, and replies, "Nicetameetcha, Marcus... I'm Bernie."
Marcus raises an eyebrow. "Bernie? What's that short for, Bernadette?"
Bernie makes a face. "I wish. Nah, my parents went onna responsible naming kick after they caught flack for somea my sib's names, an' I got the bottom of th' pendulum swing. 's short for Bernice. 'least they didn't go with Bertha or somethin', though."
Marcus flashes another bright smile. "Bernice? It's not so bad. What are the sibs' names?"
"Well, they were pretty uneven with it at first... My oldest brother's Clarence, which everyone thought was jus' fine, 'cept they were callin' him by his middle name at the time, which's Phoenix. Then there's Lola Delicious, then me, Bernice Ruth, see what I mean? Then Robert Anthony, Naomi Sharon, and Sam Johnathan.... Lola's kid's Penelope Nicole." Bernie leans back slightly after the list, having ticked each name off on her fingers as she went, and now dropping her hands into her lap.
Marcus leans back, laughing a little at Lola's name. He nods, too, at the question. "Yeah, I see. Lola's got a kid now, too? How old?"
Bernie sets the backpack beside her, pulling her knees up lightly toward her chest, feet sole-down on the bench, and rests her arms atop her knees, "Which one, Lola or her kid?" Without waiting for a reply, she just answers both, "Lola's 17, almost 18 now. Penny's, mm, prolly three months now?"
Marcus simply nods, to both, then lifts his chin and rests an arm comfortably on the back of the bench. Turning toward Bernie, he asks, "How bout you?"
Bernie opens her mouth to answer, and then pauses a moment, glancing over at Marcus curiously. "...guess first," she suggests, "an' then I'll tell you. Kinda curious what people think."
Marcus takes his time, looking Bernie over carefully while stereotypicaly brushing at his goatee. "Well, you can't be older than Lola, and since she's 17, I'll go with 16?"
Bernie grins again, and nods once, "Smart! Think most people wouldn't've thoughta that, sadly. Yup, 16's right." She pauses, and looks Marcus over about the same way. "How 'bout you?"
Marcus offers his best profile, turning the tables on Bernie. "Guess?"
Bernie laughs, and shakes her head, "I guess turnabout's fair play, but I don't have th' same clues t' work from... PLUS it's dark..." She pauses, tilting her head to one side as she regards him thoughtfully. "Well. Obviously you c'n drive, so you're over 16," she tosses off in a negligent tone, just laying out facts, "and if that's your cab you gotta be over 18, I think, 'cause I don't see 'em hirin' minors for it... but anyhow you look older'n that. Mm. Twenny...four?"
Marcus's dark laugh has a soft tone to it, comforting. "Twenty five. almost twenty six, but thank you. I take that as a compliment."
Bernie grins, and snaps her fingers. "Darn!" she exclaims good naturedly, "and here that was my secon' guess. So close! Alas." A quick shrug, and almost as an afterthought, "...you're welcome."
Marcus glances back at his cab, briefly, and then asks, "So what's a girl your age doing out at this time o'night, anyway? Not that I'm implying you can't take care of yourself. Just...you know."
Bernie doesn't seem to take offense at the question, just grinning and offering another light shrug. "Talkin' t' you," she replies, quite truthfully, "...prior t' that, readin'. Gotta tendency t' lose tracka time when I do that. Kinda gotta rep for it, even." Her tone's a bit self-deprecating, though there seems to be something like a bit of defiant pride lurking in the background of it.
Marcus grins back, pulling his coat closed again as he stands up. "S'cool. You hungry?"
"Actually, yeah," Bernie replies with a nod, after the briefest of thoughts, and extends her legs straight out from the bench, pointing the toes to stretch them before the soles hit the ground again. She hefts her backpack, and slings it over her shoulder in a practiced, almost graceful move as she stands.
Marcus's already taking a step toward the cab, but he turns back to add, "I should probably be good and tell you you shouldn't go off with strangers, but company sounds too good right now." With another wink, he hurries up toward the cab and gets in.
"I shouldn' talk to 'em either," Bernie points out rather dryly in response, though she grins as she follows, "but so far that doesn' seem t' stop me... anyhow I made it all th' way up th' coast ridin' with strangers, so I think I'm pretty decent at it now." As she opens the door, she leans in and adds, ina light but deadpan tone, "Plus, if anyone tried anything I'd have to open a can of industrial strength top-quality deadly hands of kung fu whoop ass on 'im." A slight pause before she breaks, and snickers slightly at that, slipping into the seat.
Marcus laughs in response, nodding. "I bet you could, too," he says, starting the car and turning back toward the main street. "So you think you're a good judge of character then?"
Bernie considers that a few moments, and makes a tilting gesture with one hand, "Kinda, I guess. I dunno if I'm so much good at it or jus' lucky so far. Hard t' tell, y'know? But mostly seems like I do okay." A slight pause, "...an' if you whip out a hatchet or somethin' I'm gonna be really pissed at you for messin' up my record."
Marcus holds up his hands. "Promise, no axes. The worst you'll get from me is boring conversation. I'm too tired and hungry for anything else."