The barn doors creak open on rusted hinges. Slipping inside, the Galliard peers around for a moment, then sighs softly in relief. "Come ta'momma..." She mummers, drawing out a pack of reds, lighting a stick up. Taking a long drag, she exhales after holding the smoke for a bit.

....well, that's just -way- too tempting an opportunity to pass up. Reads-In-Darkness, practicing manuevering her bulky Crinos form on what passes for hte second floor, grins a toothily evil, feral grin, and balances herself on the edge of the catwalk as she pads as close as she can get to the other cub. Then, grabbing the edge of it, she launches herself through the air to land just in front of Alicia. She winces slightly as she lands, bending her knees, but recovers quickly to comment, in the most matter-of-fact if still loud tone a crinos can muster, "...Rar!"

Alicia blinks and SCREAMS at the top of her lungs, stumbling backwards onto her ass. She quickly scoots back, cig dropping, eyes widened in fear. She has no clue thats Bernie, for all she knows, its a Spiral Dancer or something. "Oh my god! Oh my god! HELP!" She calls out, breathing heavily, ripping into her own war form.

Jarred bursts through the barn door, breathing heavily, and sees the two crinos.

Reads-In-Dark, however, is cracking up, practically doubled over. She holds up one massive paw, splayed open in the tradtional 'hold on, hold on' gesture, and her form blurs a little as she shrinks down to near-human form, the laughter getting more human as she changes, until she can talk between laughs, albeit in gutteral tones, "OH my GOD you should have SEEN your face!" Damn ragabash.

Pretty-Paws takes a deep, ragged breath as the ebony crinos pushes her way up. ~Thats not funny!~ She snorts, sighing, then blinks as she looks to Jarred. Slapping her forehead, she stumbles backwards and to her rump again, forgetting her crinos strength. ~Fuck! Dammit! All to hell!~

Jarred looks back and forth between the two a couple of times and then rolls his eyes, the tension leaving him visibly.

Bernie only laughs harder, collapsing against one of the haybales, tears actually coming to her eyes as the other cub manages to knock -herself- back down. "Heh, 'lica, I ... can't understand ya... when y'growl like that... yet..." she manages, gasping, and shaking her head, curls bouncing. Another fit of laughter precludes any further conversation, for the moment.

Pretty-Paws huffs and pushes herself up, flipping that heavy tail back and forth. Crossing her arms, the lean looking monster snorts out a breath of hot air. She starts to stomp over towards Bernie, looking none too happy with the scowl embedded into her features. She flexes out her claws, looking deadly terrifying.

Jarred looks alarmed at this turn of events. "Oh no you don't..." He shifts to his own war form smoothly, intercepting the Gaian's warpath.

Song-of-Fury stops suddenly, apparently thinking twice about the situation, and falls back a few feet to let the other crinos pass.

Bernie squeaks a bit and pushes up, darting behind the haybale to keep it between her and the crinos, but still not quite able to stop laughing. "Aw, c'mon, 'licia," she protests concilliatorily, "admit it, it was funny! Nothin' broken... c'mon, we c'n go in, I'll make ya fudge or somethin'..."

Pretty-Paws stalks towards the new moon, snarling. With a quick reflex, she lashes out with her claws, grabbing her around the shirt, jerking her straight up. She lets the Gnawer dangle for a moment as she stares hard into her eyes, growling loudly in her throat.

Bernie squeaks again and finally manages to stop laughing... of course, she also melts right back up from near-human to her own warform, which not only makes her a hell of a lot harder for the other cub to lift, but means that the shirt is no longer there to hold on to. Feet back on the floor where they belong, she stares back at the coggie, arms coming up prepared to defend herself.

Pretty-Paws pulls her lips back into a fearsome growl, one that turns into a laugh itself. Ha! Now you know how I felt. Letting go of her, she winks an eye to the Gnawer quickly.

Reads-In-Dark doesn't understand the words, but she gets the wink, and sticks her tongue out at Alicia -- and don't think THAT isn't odd looking in Crinos -- before grinning toothily at her and shrinking down, giggling again. "No harm, no foul," she declares cheerfully, brushing at her shirt. "...now come join me an' humanity, wouldja?"

Pretty-Paws shifts down as well, her form melting back to her dedicated sweats. "Sho, why' not." She giggles, wrapping an arm around the Gnawer's shoulder.

[...and so they did. Later that day at the Forgotten Church...]

As late as it is, the familiar putter of Matt's scooter is almost the only sound outside the Church. The engine coughs as it cut off, and the sounds of someone (probably Matt) disembarking follow quickly.

Bernie is sitting crosslegged on the dais at the front of the church, reading by flashlight and slowly nibbling a donut to death. She perks at the first hint of that sound, and straightens slightly, looking up to the doors.

Matt backs through the double doors, stuggling with a large grocery bag which appears to have been lately strapped to his scooter. When he turns, it is obvious he can't really see where he is going, and is trusting his peripheral vision to keep him from running into anything until he gets to the stairs down.

Bernie presses her lips together to prevent a giggle as she considers the counsel of the devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other: go help him with the groceries, or take advantage of the blindness somehow? Difficult choice indeed. She rises as quietly as she can manage, and pads toward the moving bags, avoiding the squeakier floor panels. As she reaches him, she takes some of the groceries, simultaneously remarking, "...boo."

"Chaysus!" Matt shouts. He bobbles the grocery bags, but as Bernie has already planned to catch one he manages not to drop anything. He cranks his head to the side of a bag to see who has...oh. Bernie. Figures. "You damn near gave me a full on 'eart attack!" he laughs.

Bernie giggles, grinning like a maniac. "...hi," she replies, pulling the rescued bag in safely, "...an' don' worry, I'd give ya CPR anyday." A quick glance into the bag, "...wha's all this for?"

Matt shoos her away from both bags. "Gercha! You can 'ave some soon enough. We're trainin' a new grill chef, an' 'e's a right cabbage. These," he indicates the styrofoam containers poking out of the bags, "are overdone steaks that Jason arsed up tonight. Oi usually bring tis sort of fing by 'ere. Joey and th' crew seem ta appreciate it." He shrugs and reconsiders. "Wanta 'elp me get these in the fridge downstairs?"

Bernie retains her bag, protesting, "Hey, I was just askin', wasn't gonna snaffle it or anythin'... an' sure, lead on. I put mosta th' donuts in there but there's plennya room anyhow..."

Matt grins behind his bag. "Joost kiddin', Books. Ye can eat as mucha this as th next Gnawer. Oi know there's some dumpster divin' whot goes on after hours anyway, so Oi grab 'em before they get that far. Saves a step, neh? Anyway, Junior said Joey's almost elected me Archbishop o' Fookin' Canterbury fer bringin' 'em steaks. can you adam 'n' eve that?"

"Seems reas'nable t' me... pers'nally I prefer food that -hasn't- seen th' insida th' trashcan b'fore I meet it, so I'm all for your technique..." the Ragabash declares. "An' hey, if th' office's open, He Who Pr'vides th' Steaks is def'nitely gonna have th' inside track." She heads downward to put the things away.

Matt follows Bernie, hoping she will keep him from tripping on the stairs.

Bernie wanders over to the kitchen, setting the bag down on the counter and opening the fridge. "...mmm... yeah, plenny a room, let me move th' donuts... there. Can unpack 'em or put 'em in full, either way'll work."

"Oi labelled 'em," Matt offers, noting the notes in black sharpie on each styrofoam container. n.y.strip, filet, potatoes, and the like.

"...cool beans," Bernie replies, regarding the containers as she unpacks them. "...I like your handwritin'. I'll unpack 'em, you put 'em in th' fridge?" She pulls a box from the bag, offering it over.

Matt smiles broadly, nodding. He takes up his position, between the counter and the fridge. "Done an' done." He opens the freezer, and prepares to toss boxes.

Bernie grins and passes the first box, getting the short assembly line started at a nice clip. "...so 'side from breakin' in a new an' less'n stellar cook, how'd things go t'day?" she queries, tossing over one marked 'potatoes'.

Matt smiles ruefully. "'ave Oi ever mentioned 'ow much a dustbin lid takes the piss outa me? fookin' little monsters." He accepts the box and stacks it in the freezer.

Bernie pauses briefly between boxes, parsing that, "...don' think y'have, nope. How so? I mean, what happened and all?" The next box comes along, just slightly out of rhythm.

Matt waves a hand. "Oh, nuffin' really. Just a buncha families wif kid in high chairs, frowin' their jim everywhere. Joost a pain, ta clean up after the punters." He takes the changeup in rhythym in stride, stacking the box neatly on top of the first.

Bernie laughs a little, nodding, and continues to toss over the boxes as they talk. "...yeah, my li'lest brother, Sam, useta paint th' kitchen with 'is meals... he just got over that mostly b'fore I left, an' Penny's prolly taken over for 'im by now..."

Matt catches and stacks as he talks. "Part o' the corn, Oi s'pose. Nuffin' earf-shatterin' anyway. Clean the tables, set 'em wif silverware. Get tipped out, go home...my fav'rite part."

"I tried t' get a job once last year, but they wouldn' hire anyone under 16 anywhere. So, oh well. Did get a couple people t' hire me t' teach 'em how t' use their computers, but that's just, y'know, an' hour here'r there... 's a'ight though. S'pose I could now, act'ly..." More boxes makes their way over as she chats.

Matt shrugs, taking another box. "Oi can't get a job actually *waiting* on the tables until Oi'm eighteen and can serve beer. Fookin' septics. Oi've been in the battle since Oi was firteen, but 'ere Oi can't even touch the stuff fer nine more monfs."

Bernie rolls her eyes, passing the last of the boxes over and folding up the bags. "Got some stupid laws, y'know? Like anyone gets t' be twennyone without havin' touched anythin' stronger'n grape juice anyway."

"Speaking of which..." He places the last box in the freezer, closes it, then rummages in the fridge. He comes up with a coke and a can of Milwaukee's Best.

Bernie grins, leaning against the counter, "Ooh. Liquid refreshment. Good thought. Jus' suddenly realised I haven't drunk anythin' in... I dunno, but hours anyhow."

Matt passes over the coke, then opens the beer. "Sure an' Oi needed a jar after the corn." He takes a sip of the Beast and immediately makes a face. "Faugh! What is this shit?"

Taking the first sip of her soda, Bernie giggles, shaking her head. "...yes," she replies, with a half-smile, shaking her head slightly, "....-that's- why I di'n' like beer. 's what m'parents drink. Ugh. Y'wanna share?" She offers her can, clearing up the ambiguity there.

Matt grimaces. "Please." He sets the beer, now open back in the fridge. Flat or no, he knows it won't go to waste here. "Fookin' septic excuse for a stella. Glah," he shudders again, remembering the taste.

Bernie laughs a bit more at that, and hands over the coke. "Here, wash th' taste out... mm, so, lessee... hey, 'licia almost kicked my ass t'day, that was pretty funny... 'cause, see, I was practicing my balance in crinos on th' second floor ledge thing in th' barn, an' she came in for a smoke, so I snuck over an' swung down in front of her and went, 'Rar!' an' OH my god you shoulda seen her face, it was -so- worth it..." She giggles again at the memory, shaking her head.

Matt chuckles. "Oi'll bet." ~Have you learned any Garou?~ he growls, raising a hopeful eyebrow.

Bernie looks blank, and sighs. "...no idea what y'said, still. No one's got th' time or inclination t' teach me t' speak, seems like. Which sucks, I -hate- not bein' able t' c'mmunicate..."

"Try shiftin' ta glabro," Matt recommends. "Easier on the vocal chords." He shifts up himself, growing almost a foot taller and as much wider.

Bernie nods, and concentrates a moment, following suit just a little bit more slowly.

Matt smiles, toothily. His grin is wider, gums a bit darker, and teeth more pointed. "I speak," he says. ~I speak. Now you try.~

Bernie stretches slightly, and smiles back, pushing her curls back behind her shoulders with rather larger than ususal hands. She listens closely, and nods, doing her best to echo back, ~...I speak. Now you try?~ She tilts her head at him questioningly, and asks in a rather gravelly version of her voice, "..'d I do that right?"

Matt chuckles. "Almost. Just..." ~I speak.~ "You speak." ~You speak.~ He goes through the conjugation of the verb 'to speak' in Garou.

Bernie giggles, definitely a different sound with the changed vocal chords, and nods, carefully repeating the phrases back, first in english, then Garou. "...yes?" she asks, after finishing.

Matt smiles. "Exactly. Though to tell someone you speak Garou, you tell them you 'ave speech,' basically."

[...and the lessons continue.]