Matt sits at the kitchen table, the remains of breakfast on the plate in front of him. He seems oblivious to Bernie's approach, so silent is she in her stockinged feet. He has a cup of coffee, and the mean spirited might be tempted to wait until he's about to drink...

Oh, come now, 'mean-spirited' isn't fair... how could one resist? And Bernie doesn't intentionally wait until he's just taken a sip of the drink, it's just that that happens to be when she finishes padding up behind the other cub, crouching slightly so her mouth is level just beside and behind his ear, and in the most nochalant tone she can muster, softly remarking, "...boo."

"!" Matt chokes, erupting into a hacking cough, trying to clear coffee from his nasal passages. He manages to set his coffee down with out spilling it, and turns with a glare upon Bernie. It's impossible for him to stay mad at her for more than a second or two, though. "Crikey, Books. Oi nearly choked!"

Bernie tries not to laugh too hard, managing to keep it down to just minor giggling. "....I woulda given ya mouth-t'-mouth," she replies, with a fleeting grin, and straightens up, dropping into the chair beside him, pulling it a little closer before she sits. "...sorry, though. Couldn' resist..." She crosses her arms on the table, and rests her chin on them gently, tilting her head to look up at him. "...also 'parrently I fell 'sleep on th' bed las' night... sorry 'bout that..."

Matt shakes his head. "'s all roight. For bof. Oi shouldn't get used ta the bed. Other cubs will come frough 'ere after Oi'm gone, one of 'em will claim the bed. First part of the Kill for the Greatest in Station, right?" He smiles. "An' you use whotever 'eroic measures you feel necessary ta save me life."

"Mrm. I think I need to elevate my Station," Bernie remarks, "...like th' monorail. An' deal." She pauses. "...no chance you feel a touch of drownin' coming on?" she queries innocently, with a somewhat wistful half-smile.

"Dunno," Matt winks, "You plannin' on sneakin' up on me again?" He shares the smile, and reaches out to run his fingertips through her hair. "Mebbe soon...we'll see where the day goes."

Bernie smiles a bit more, leaning an inch or so toward him, and then swaying back. "'f it doesn' go inta night, I'm gonna get seriously worried," she replies, "...for one thing it'll be too light for t'marra..." A quick grin, and she adds, "...still haven' found Yi yet. But I did get th' brand an' measurements on th' lock, so I'll take a look f'r its evil twin t'day."

Matt grins. "Oh, that's 'andsome then. Listen, Oi've got to head ta work. See you tonight ta see where we are? I hope ta be able ta pull this off before my Rite, but I don't know when Echen-rhya is going ta come find me."

Bernie nods, "'course... I'll be 'round." She pushes her chair back from the table, and stands, giving Matt a brief, sudden hug from the side. "...'case y' get dragged off an' I don't see ya first... g'luck, 'kay? Break their legs."

Matt stands, returning the hug, holding it for a while. "Aye. Consider them broken." he turns, heading out the back door. Pretty soon the cough of his scooter's motor can be heard, receding down the lane toward the city.

[...later...]

Matt slides the back door open and enters quickly, shutting the cold out as soon as possible. His face is red and dry, probably from the cold wind riding back from town on his scooter.

Bernie is sitting at the table, a half-empty cup of hot chocolate just in front of her, notebook open in front of her, and tapping the end of her pen on the paper, looking a bit down. She glances up at the noise of the door, though, and brightens considerably, greeting Matt with a rather proud, "Hey!" as she leans down to reach into her backpack and comes back up, lock in hand, "...ta da! One lock. How'd work go? There's water if y'want cocoa."

Matt smiles, corrsing quickly and thankfully to the counter to make himself some cocoa. "Tha's 'andsome, Books. Work was fine. Pretty slow, really. Oi got out early. 's a perfect match, is it?"

"'less y'try t' open 'em, yup! Well... also this one's bit less weatherbeaten as th' other one, but I don't think it'll show up 'less someone act'ly decides t' take a close look for some reason, y'know?" She regards the lock a few moments, thoughtfully. "...could prolly age it a bit an' get it perfick. Hmm."

Matt furrows his brow as he brings his cocoa to the table. "Age it?"

"Yeah," Bernie replies, "...make it match th' one that's been out in th' rain an' sun an' all for so long... though, like I said, they're real close as it is."

Matt seems to understand...sort of. "Sure. So we've got our tools togevver. Now we need ta pick a good night. Dark, for tea leavin'."

Bernie nods to the other cub with her at the table, "Right. I'm thinkin' t'marra's still good, or th' next couple days... 's gettin'..." She trails off as the door opens, glancing toward it, and lifts a hand to wave to Junior as he enters, the other hand moving down off the table, as she greets him cheerfully, "Heya, how goes?" There's an open notebook on the tabletop before her, and half a cup of hot chocolate.

Junior grins, shutting the door behind him as he enters. "Hey. Pretty good. Yourself?" He smiles. "Hi, Matt."

Matt also looks up, surprised briefly to see Junior. "Good, mate. Very good. Whot brings you out? Trainspotting?"

Junior grins. "Thought I'd see what's up...make a raid on the fridge. You know how it goes."

"It goes," Bernie replies, and goes to take a sip of her mostly forgotten cocoa, making a face as it's gone utterly cold. She stands, flipping the notebook shut with one finger, and heads for the pot of hot water to remedy the problem. "There's cocoa," she comments, "an' I think there's somea 'licia's l'sangna in th' fridge. 'mong other stuff."

Junior smiles. "It's cool enough outside that cocoa sounds pretty good..."

"Lasagna?" Matt perks, flashing a mock frown to Bernie. "You never said anyfin' about lasagna."

Junior chuckles. "Now you're in trouble. Hope you didn't want any for yourself..." He grins.

"You di'n' say you were hungry," Bernie points out, flashing the Fianna a quick grin. "...yeah, I'm pretty sure I saw some in there earlier when I was gettin' a soda, an' nah, y'all c'n d'molish it... not really hungry, m'self." She pulls a mug down for the other Gnawer, and dumps a packet of cocoa powder into it, filling both cups with water and handing him the new one before returning to the table. "Adult'rate t' taste..."

Junior smiles, taking the cup. "Thanks..." He glances over at Matt. "What've you been up to, hey?"

"Oi'm wounded." Matt grins. "When 'ave you known me /not/ ta be 'ungry?" To Junior, he replies "Mostly workin'. Oi've saved enough o' the queen's portraits ta put a down on me own flat after Oi Rite. Plus, Oi've been helpin' out wif the cub teachin', includin' this one 'ere. Tried not ta make too much of a Fianna out of 'er, but-"--he shrugs--"-no promises."

Junior grins. "Eh....you're close enough t' us not t' worry me much." He chuckles. "Getting a place of your own, huh? Cool."

Bernie grins at Matt, standing up again, and heads toward the fridge. "Oi'm sorry, Oi s'pose I just wasn't usin' me loaf..." she apologises, in as close to his accent as she can manage, and pulls out the leftover lasagna and a bit of left over salad. "'ere y' go then," she remarks, setting all but the can on the table, "'ave a good jim..." She ducks into the pantry and finds a can of Guinness, which she carries to the cupboard, snatching down a big glass, and gets the can opener to puncture the tin's base and pour the beer into the mug. That done, she carries it back to the table. And keeps it, taking a sip, all wide-eyed innocence. "Oi don' fink you 'afta worry..." She grins again, unable to keep it up any longer.

Matt enjoys Bernie's performance in stunned silence for a moment, then bursts into uncontrollable laughter, which eventually fades, leaving him in tears, clutching the table. "Fookin' beautiful, Books. Oi couldn't'a done better, were Oi a new moon mesel'. 'ope there's anovver jar o' that in there for me...."

Junior rolls his eyes, groaning. "Two of them with that accent. OK, maybe we SHOULDN'T let you teach her..." Then he grins.

Bernie giggles, grinning wider, and slides the Guinness over to the other cub, surrendering it. "Thank you, thank you, no 'plause please, jus' send cash..." Back to her usual manner of speech, not that it'd make an elocution teacher any less prone to roll in his grave. She picks up her cocoa, going back to that drink for the time being, at least.

Junior chuckles, and takes a sip of his cocoa.

Matt, forced to choose between Guinness and lukewarm cocoa, does his tribe proud, choosing the beer. A little darker, but just as warm. "You should talk ta Junior 'bout combat trainin', Books. He's an ahroun. Better in a /fair/ bull than me, even."

Junior nods. "I can give ya fighting training, all right."

Bernie regards Junior a moment, and then nods, "...cool... couldn' hurt." She thinks about that and amends, "...well, prolly could hurt like hell, act'ly, but still likely t' be pr'ductive."

"Yi was showin' 'er some sorta kung fu bollock last," Matt informs Junior. "Some basics might be even more 'elpful. Oi've done me best, but the Ganwers 'aven't been around for 'er much." He even does a good job of sounding non-judgemental on this point.

Junior chuckles. "I was gonna say...." He smiles.

Bernie shrugs slightly. "...'s not like I'm -c'mpletely- new t' Unacceptable Physical Expressions of Anger," she protests, apparently quoting someone or something on the last few words, judging from the tone. "...but I'm not 'zactly Jean Claude Van Damme or anythin' so, yeah, trainin's all good." She sips her cocoa again, eating one of the marshmallows.

Matt nods. "Barn's free, as far as Oi know. Junior, Oi was goin' ta ask you 'ow yer Rite went, so, ''ow'd yer Rite go?'"

Junior smirks, nodding, and takes a large gulp of his own cocoa. "Well...I'm a cliath now." He hrms. "It was really weird. We wound up in the future, or someplace like it."

Matt grins. "Way ta go, Junior-rhya."

Junior snorts at Matt, then grins. "Thanks, Matt."

"...happens to everyone if y' wait long enough," Bernie muses, "...windin' up in th' future, I mean." She grins, finishing her drink, and pushes the mug away a bit, "...didn' ya do that a while ago? Seem t' recall hearin' a li'l 'bout it..."

Junior nods. "Yeah. It's been a little while."

Matt shrugs. "'m not in th' Barkin' Line, or whotever it is. News of th' Garou travels slowly in th' restaurant business." A tinge of bitterness enters his voice. "Sorry if Oi'm not up ta date. Still waitin' fer my Rite."

Junior frowns, going over to clap Matt on the shoulder. "No word on it yet?"

Bernie glances sideways at the other cub, and reaches over, giving him a quick squeeze about the shoulders. "Steven said they're 'bout ready, right? It'll be soon an' all," she comments, pulling her arm back, "...an' whassa Barkin' Line?" She glances at both of them before her eye falls on the lasagna and she adds, "..an' are you guys gonna eat that or what?"

Junior smiles. "Barking Chain. It's a way we pass messages in town. You'll be taught it soon."

Alicia strides into the kitchen, tossing her blonde hair back over one shoulder. She seems to be in good mood.

Junior nods to Alicia as she comes into the room. "Hey."

Alicia glances over to Junior and squints her eyes slightly, peering at him. "Yo dude. Who be you?" She gives a grin, crossing her arms over her barely clad chest, composed of sports bra and loose to the hip camo pants.

Bernie tilts her head back, and lifts a hand to wave at the newest arrival. "Heya, 'licia," she greets her, "...'sup?"

Junior smiles at Alicia. "Pete Barlow Junior. Folks call me Junior."

Alicia oh's and nods her head. "Ah'm Alicia Jackson. People jus' call me whatever it is they want." She winks to him, sizing the full moon up for a moment, then turns her head to Bernie. "I'm fine, just hanging out. How're you doing?"

The ruckus has dragged out yet another member of the group of Garou cubs; Helen steps in the kitchen from the living room, dark hair pulled back in a french braid that seems done by the ragabash's own hand, as strands of hair are sticking to-and-fro from her head like Alfalfa. Her gait is quite relaxed as she leans against the doorless doorframe of the kitchen, head slumped slightly into her shoulderblades as she regards the group. Then she offers a word of greeting: "Hey."

Bernie glances around, idly drumming her fingertips a little on the closed notebook in front of her, and lifts a brow, "...damn, 'parently this's th' place t' -be-." She flashes a quick grin at Matt, "..an' we were here first. We cool or what?" Helen gets a quick onceover, and a smile, with a return, "Hey."

Matt glances up from his lasagna at Bernie's comment, noting the quiet newcomer for the first time. "Oi. We /are/ pop-you-lar. Oi don't know if we've met. Matt Fulton."

Alicia glances over. "Yo Bitch! 'Sup!?" She calls over to Helen, heading over with her usual confident gait and liquid stride. She offers a hand for a high five. "Whatcha been up ta?"

Helen beams. "Nothing," she offers to Alicia and returns the high-five enthusiastically. She hugs the galliard in typical Fury sisterly style. "Karin's, like, gone--so I'm the only cub around. So I've been lookin' at Karin's books and stuff and I found out there's a Greek goddess of the dark moon, so I'm gonna ask if I can go by that name. Hecate. She's all dark and mysterious and shit."

Alicia grins widely at her. "That is so dope. I heard o' her. Ah've been doing a whole lotta nuff'n really. Dude, I'm still grounded. That /so/ bites." She returns the hug ten fold, her demeanor changed incredibly. "Hey, ah'met this new Fury chick. Agatha Iodine, er'something. I can't pronounce the last name. Ah'was giving ya props da' otha' day when ya whacked my step dad."

Helen tilts her head; she seems definitely curious. "Agatha's pretty cool," she agrees. "Giving me what?" She seems a bit confused of Alicia's chosing of ebonics, but shrugs. "Whacked your stepdad, I did, yup, the fucker."

Bernie watches the conversation like an icthyologist watching the fish in the aquarium, and idly slides her hand a foot or so down the table to steal the mug of Guinness currently sitting in front of Matt while he eats.

Matt allows the theft, knowing there is more to be had. Not sure if that's so of the lasagna, though, and eating lasagna keeps him from putting his foot in his mouth by entering /this/ conversation.

Junior leans against the counter, just listening as he drinks his hot chocolate.

Alicia nods her head. "Props, Ah'put in'a good word fo' ya." She winks, leaning against the Fury, one arm draped around her shoulders. She turns her gaze back to the others. "So what we all doing t'night? Pictionary?"

Helen blinks at Alicia. "Oh. Tell me what ya said?" the older Garou asks, but stops herself as she glances 'round the room: and spies the others. "Oh, um, hi. I have no fucking idea who y'all are."

"Pin the tail on the Galliard," Matt quips. "you're It."

Alicia grins and slaps her rump sassily to Matt. "You know where to put it."

"Scattergories," Bernie replies, taking a sip of her ill-gotten gains. "I always win." She grins, and shrugs, "...nuttin' in partic'lar, jus' sittin' an' talkin', an' they're d'molishin' th' lasta th' leftovers. Thrill a minute at th' Farmhouse Kitchen, I tell ya." She turns the grin on Helen, and notes, "Cool, then we're even. HI."

Helen doesn't seem to want to introduce herself. She peers at Alicia. "You're fucked up," she says, and grins ear-to-ear.

Alicia licks her lips and winks to Helen. "You want a piece of it too?" She pushes her back a bit, giving a soft 'woof'.

Matt starts to comment, but fills his mouth with lasagna instead.

"Nah. Save it for your kinfolk boy who you fuck too much," Helen says, pushing herself from the doorframe and moseyin' on to peer at Bernie, Matt, and Junior. "Hi. I'm Helen. I haven't met you. So I'll do the introductions! Because I'm so fuckin' nice, and all. Black Fury Ragabash."

Alicia clears her throat, coughing once. "Yer' right. My bad."

Junior arches an eyebrow. "Good to meet you. I'm Pete Barlow Junior, but most folks call me Junior. Or Legbreaker. Bone Gnawer ahroun."

"...niceta meetcha, Oh saintly one," Bernie replies, leaning back slightly in her chair, and smiling at the Fury, "'m Bernie. Raggie 'Gnawer cub." She sips the beer again, and then returns the mug to the Fianna beside her.

Alicia smiles and glances over to Junior. "Ah'm Blooms-From-Her-Pain. Galliard for the Children of Gaia. Cubbish."

Matt swallows. "Matt Fulton, as Oi said. 'Alf Moon o' the Fianna. Cub, for Gaia only knows 'ow much longer."

Junior glances at Matt. "I'm sure they'll rite you soon, Matt. Got to."

Bernie nods. "Def'nitely," she agrees firmly, "...prolly they'll come an' cart y' off in th' middlea th' l'sagna an' not even letcha finish it..."

"Y' ain't got a Garou name? Sheesh." Helen eyes Matt. But she's eyeing him for a totally different reason, and this is the only straight Fury here besides Katina. Or one would think.

"Didn't hear one from you," Bernie points out, eyeing Helen in not at all the same way, a bit warily, actually, "...'less, 'course, yours is 'So-Fuckin'-Nice'."

~You may call me Speaks-in-Circles,~ Matt grumbles. He returns her gaze levelly, if a bit more disinterested.

Helen is quiet for a moment; she glances to Bernie. "Nah. Eris," she answers, the Greek goddess' name rolling off her tongue easily.

Bernie's eyebrows lift slightly, and she grins, almost in spite of herself, "...yeah? Tha's cool. Got any golden apples handy? Reads-In-Darkness, by th' way, if y'wondered. Act'ly, regardless."

Matt rasies a quizzical eyebrow. "Eris?"

Junior ums. "Greek goddess of...well, chaos, essentially."

"...which 'as whot to do exac'ly," Matt presses on, "wif golden apples?"

Junior grins. "One of her symbols. Especially if you pay attention to the Discordians."

Helen smiles innocently. "I'm an evil person. Which is why I was named Eris. Or something like that."

Bernie nods, aiming a finger at Junior, "'zactly. Y'want th' stunning livin' room set, or wouldja like t' trade it for what's b'hind door number one?" She grins at him, and then looks back to Matt, "...'s a good book she an' th' Discordian's factor in, y'should read it someday... in y'r copious free time," she adds, slightly teasing.

Junior hmms. "I've read the Principia Discordia. It's....twisted, but interesting." he grins at Helen. "And Eris isn't evil, really. Just....weird. Chaos in perosn."

Matt pushes his empty plate away. "Like the Wyld, for bubbles."

Bernie nods, thoughtfully, "...yeah, kinda like that."

"Yeah, well, I'm not like Eris, really. I think I'm like Hecate. She's pretty damned cool," Helen offers.

Junior hmms. "Greek goddess of the crossroads. Usually associated with witches."

Helen adds, "Or wolves. Or is that Artemis?"

Junior considers. "Artemis is the Greek goddess of hunting. She might be associated with wolves, yes. I think I've read a few stories that had her with them."

Helen ponders this. "I think I remember reading that Hecate was associated with the new moon, so, it kinda describes me--bein' a ragabash and all."

Junior nods. "Right."

Matt shrugs. "Oi got named by my Mentor, introduced around that way before Oi could speak Amharm, an' it stuck. Lucky you if ye can choose yer own."

Helen scratches at her neck idly. "Yeah. Well. One of the elders calls me Slowpoke."

"Ghosthounds," Bernie remarks after a moment's thought. "She's got a paira ghosthounds..." She shrugs, "I like Eris. 'course, since I fin'ly -got- a cubname an' it's not so bad, no complaints."

Matt nods. "It coulda been worse. Oi could've been named by Rides-Fire."

Bernie tilts her head curiously, "Yeah? I'll bite, what would thata come out like?"

Helen peers at Matt. "Who's that?"

Matt lowers his head a little, unconsciously. "'e calls me Voice-of-Crows. Not my fault the ol' lupus doesn't follow me. At least Oi don't speak Cymric around 'im."

Helen laughs. "Weird shit. Voice-of-Crows? I like it better than Slowpoke," she says, stretching.

Bernie giggles, and admits, "..Roger said they oughta've called me Confuses-th'-Lis'ner..." She sounds almost proud of it, though, and shrugs.

"Oi don't fink yer confusing, Books," Matt comments. "Clear as St. Mary's, you are, and a bit of th' 'andsome on the minces, ta boot."

Helen smirks. "Confuses-the-Listener?" she echoes, but falls silent as she turns to the refridgerator and pulls out a beer, almost Fianna-esquely. She pops open the top, and takes a gulp

Bernie seems to go a shade pinker, but grins at Matt, replying, "Thank you. An' I could say th' same t' you... 'cept I think I'm gonna steal y'r drink again, instead." Which she does, or at least attempts to.

Junior chuckles softly.

Matt allows the theft, and even goes so far as to get up to retrieve another can from the pantry. A fresh, room temperature Guinness meets can opener, and the warm liquid pour into a fresh glass from the hole in the bottom of the can. Resupplied, Matt returns to the table with the empty can.

Junior hrms softly, arching an eyebrow. "Why do you open the BOTTOM of the can like that?"

"Nitrogen disk," Matt replies. "Some brilliant American decided ta fook up perfectly good beer by makin' sure ye have ta drink it cold." He demonstrates by opening the can normally. A pshhh-clink is heard, and the can frosts over from the top down. "This way, Oi can enjoy it as God gave it ta the Irish."

Junior hrms. "If you say so...."

Bernie takes a sip of 'her' drink, and nods. "So we gotta work-'round... what -I- don' get is, why don' they put those things on coke? Dunno anyone who prefers -that- room temp..." She considers. "Guess it's patents or cost or somethin', but still."

Junior grins. "Gotta admit, it'd be damned nice t' have it on Coke. And Dr. Pepper."

Matt grimaces. "Bollocks. It's Weavertaint, I'm tellin' you."

Bernie arches a brow, "What, more'n th' fridge is, y'think? Hell... more'n th' -drinks- are?"

Matt bahs. "Fridge is good for keepin' leftovers in. Fookin' up Beer...that's evil, as any Fianna will tell you."

"Right, right," Bernie grants, nodding gravely. "But we're jus' talkin' bout usin' it on soda, whole diff'rent kettlea fish." She sips her beer again. "...was 'bout t' say I bet there wouldn't be much int'rest in fish soda, but then I r'membered there's people act'ly drink Clamato, so hey, who knows..."

Junior shudders. "Don't remind me. I tried that shit once."

Bernie shakes her head, "Me too. Ugh. What d'you think th' guy came up with it was -thinkin'-? He's got this glass of tomato juice," she lifts the mug of beer to her lips, obviously illustrating, and takes a sip, licking her lips afterward, brow furrowed, considering, "'....hmm... needs fish.'"

Junior shudders, nodding. "Bleah."

Matt looks around confused. "Whot's wrong wif Clam and tomato juice?"

Junior stares at Matt. "Lemme guess. You like it?"

Matt shrugs. "Never actually 'ad it. Oi like oysters wif cocktail sauce, though."

Bernie's eyes widen, and she looks at the Fianna cub with an expression of utter disbelief, leaning away from him. "...I... I don't know you anymore!" she stammers in mock-terror, "Heretic!" She grins at the explanation, and shrugs, relaxing, "Oh, well, tha's a'ight then; that's diff'rent."

Helen pales at this conversation. And the Fury flees.

Junior snickers softly. "Don't recall ever having oysters. But shrimp ain't bad with cocktail sauce."

Bernie blinks as the Fury makes for the hills, and shrugs, lifting a hand to wave after her as she cheerfully calls, "Y'all come back now, y'hear?" She nods to Junior, "Yeah... oysters are kinda diff'rent, but prolly allowable I figure..."

"Allowable?" Matt asks. "oi fink they're good. 'specially raw, wif a little cocktail. There's a decent local in Stetney whot does good oysters."

Junior hrms. "I'm a little iffy about eating something raw. Shrimp's great deep-fried, though."

"I only had 'em once," Bernie explains to Matt, "...canned, I think. M'sister Lola said somethin' 'bout 'em, I think..." She ponders a moment, trying to remeber what, and then blushes slightly, "...oh. Nuttin' important though." She takes another drink from her glass, lifting it slightly to examine the level.

Matt coughs. "aye, well. Oysters are good for...a number of fings...like digestion. Oi fink that's one of 'em. O've 'ad 'em cooked. Oi don't fink they taste as good."

Junior chuckles. "Digestion? That's not what I've heard they're good for...."

Matt shrugs. "Well. Any road. Oi've got ta work tomorrow, an' if that's the time..." he indicates the clock over the sink. "Oi should 'ave been kippin' a while ago. you'll excuse me?" He rises, heading in the directon of the stairs.

"Mm... yeah, well. Not what she heard either..." Bernie trails off there, sipping her beer again, and adds, "...then 'gain, she always sep'rated all the green ones outta her M&Ms an' kept 'em in a jar for Special 'ccasions..." She grins, and shakes her head slightly at the remaining couple swallows in her mug.

Bernie looks back up as Matt takes his leave, and lifts a hand, wriggling the fingers at him. "...G'night, you. Dream sweet an' all."

Junior waves to Matt as he heads out, and then grins at Bernie. "Green M&Ms, huh?"

"Yup," Bernie confirms, turning her attention back to the room and draining the remnants of the Guinness. Setting the glass down and pushing it slightly away, she smiles a bit crookedly, and adds, "...she was always real popular."

Junior chuckles. "I bet."

Bernie stretches, pushing her arms up over her head, and lets them fall again. "Mm. Right..." She scoots her chair back and stands, gathering all the various plates and glasses from the table and carting them toward the sink.

Junior helps out, carrying his share of the dishes. "You doing OK out here?"

Bernie starts the sink filling, and then returns the sad remnants of the lasagna to the fridge. "Yeah, pretty good. I'm not, y'know, 'fficially -left- here or anythin', I jus' tend t' hang out here. 's pretty decent for picking stuff up, an' all."

Junior nods. "It's nice out here. Good food, too." He grins.

Bernie grins back, liberally soaping the water in the sink. "Yeah, there's that," she agrees, "not t' mention a roof an' once in a while a bed, so hey." She slips off her jacket, hanging it on the back of the nearest chair -- can't have the cuffs getting in the suds.

Junior nods, grinning. "Yeah. It's nice out here."

Junior chuckles. "As I said."

"Yup!" Bernie agrees cheerfully, and starts to wash the dishes. "So, 'snew? An' what's this Barkin' Chain, or do I hafta wait 'til after th' rite for that sacred knowledge?"

Junior shrugs. "Just back from a trip....we found Joey's parents." He grins. "They're kin. An' the Barkin' Chain is how we keep pass word along in the city. That'll be easier t' show you and all in the city."

Bernie nods, rapidly diminishing the mound in the soapy side of the sink and enlarging the one in the other side. "Cool beans. Lemme know anytime y'feel like teachin' me stuff, 'kay, oh mighty cliath? Otherwise I start feelin' all stagnant, an'," a quick flash of an evil grin, "no one wantsa stagnant ragabash sittin' around th' place..."

Junior snickers. "Tell me about it." He nods.

"Or I could demonstrate," she replies, and then tips her head back to laugh manically. "Muahahahahaha!" Looking back into the sink, she moves another plate over and calmly comments, "...damn, that always hurts my throat."

Junior grins. "You don't scare me that much. I'd just sic Joey on ya."

"Of course you realise, this means war," Bernie quotes somewhat absently, pulling the plug and rinsing the dishes in the other side of the sink. "Nah, I'm jus' not intrinsic'ly scary..."

Junior smiles. "That's good."

Bernie glances sideways at the other Gnawer, arching a brow slightly. "What, they chargin' you by th' word t'night or somethin'?" She sets the rinsed dishes on the counter to dry.

Junior shrugs. "Eh....I tend t' be quieter. Joey's the one that does most of the talking." He grins. "He's better at doing it."

Bernie mmms, and nods slightly. The dishes done, she lifts her dripping hands like a doctor in surgery, and glances around for the nearest towel. "Too bad he didn' come with; I gotta learn more auspice stuff still... hey, d'ya happen t' know, I heard there's this rag'bash gift that opens locks an' stuff, dunno 'f he knows that an' could teach me it, by any chance?"

Junior nods. "He knows it all right. I've seen him use it. I'll ask him t' come by an' talk t' you."

Bernie grins, and bounces lightly on the balls of her feet once. "Kick-ASS," she replies, "Thanks." She gives up on finding the towel and dries her hands on her jeans before reclaiming her jacket and swinging it back on.

Junior grins. "No problem. Not like it's any big deal for me."

Bernie nods, adjusting the collar a bit, and pushes her curls back out of the coat and behind her shoulders. "Very cool. Think, by any chance, he might have nothin' better t' do sometime t'marra...? I could come by wherever if it helps."

Junior hrms. "Give him a day or two. He's been hanging out a lot with his folks, ever since they moved here."

Bernie makes a face, muttering, "...damn..." She nods though, with a slight shrug, "'kay... thanks." She smiles again, moving the notebook from the table into her backpack, and setting that on the table in its stead.

Junior smiles. "I'll try t' have him drop by soon, OK?"

Bernie grins. "Cool beans.... thanks 'gain. I'm gonna go up an' take in some Bohemian Decadence now, 's gettin' late an' all. See ya soon, then, yeah?" She hefts the backpack onto her shoulder, and edges toward the door to the living room.

Junior smiles. "Later..."

Bernie waves a hand, and disappears up the stairs.