Homey is the first word to come to mind when looking at the farmhouse's kitchen. Dark, wood-paneled wainscoting covers the walls to about waist height, dark beige wallpaper continuing to the ceiling. Twin refrigerators occupy the north wall, facing the large six-burner stove on the south. The kitchen counter runs the length of the eastern wall, broken only by the double-basin sink. Cabinets run above and below the counter and a twin-pane window is set in the wall above the sink. A small pantry is set into an alcove alongside the refrigerators, presumably holding the deep freezer as well as shelves of dry goods.
Some twelve feet above the floor, a large chandelier hangs from the ceiling, lighting the dining room and casting long shadows over the bar to the kitchen. A long table occupies the center of the dining room, three chairs setting along each side, and one on each end. On the west wall, a large window looks out on the trees alongside the western pasture. Set into the north wall is a large cabinet, its glass doors closed on shelves containing a full compliment of fine china and glassware as well as a few decorative nicknacks. On the east, a wide bar separates the dining room from the kitchen.
An opening in the southern wall allows passage to the front entryway of the house, while a sliding glass door in the kitchen opens to a clearing behind the house.
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 A variety of out-of-date magazines are strewn atop a low coffee table; more neatly presented are the plethora of books filling the small bookshelves which line the eastern wall.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.
Bernie is at the table, eating dinner. Well -- 'eating' is a bit of a misnomer; there's a plate of various leftovers sitting in front of her, but it looks like maybe two bites have been eaten and the rest has been sitting there a while. Instead, she's absently sipping a glass of soda, and writing in her notebook.
Matt's scooter prowls up the lane outside, pulling to a stop outside the back door. Shortly thereafter, the near-frozen cub slides into the kitchen.
Alicia heads into the kitchen almost at the same time Matt does, hair pulled into a bun. She's in a pair of warm pajama's, wolf slippers on her feet. Holding a few books in her arms, she glances first to Bernie, then to Matt.
As usual, that particular sound seems to catch Bernie's attention, pulling her focus from the notebook to the door for a few moments. She quickly flips a couple pages back in her book as the door slides open, and then flashes Matt a grin, with a quick wave. "Hey," she greets him, "'sup? ...an' hey," she adds to Alicia, noticing her entrance.
Matt pulls off his gloves and unzips his jacket, stuffing the gloves into the pockets. "Hey yerself," he smiles. "And you, 'licia. Studyin'?" He takes his jacket off, draping it over the back of a chair and plopping unceremoniously into a seat. "Oi'd look for somefin' to eat in the fridge, but Oi fink Oi'm too cold and tired ta move anymore."
Bernie glances at the mostly untouched plate in front of her, and starts to offer it over before she suddenly notices it's cold now. "...'f y'want I could heat this up for ya. Or there's other stuff if y'want some without any bites missin'."
Alicia places the books down on the table and shakes her head to Matt in regards to his kitchen, but falling silent as the two talk to each other.
"Fanks, Books, but no," Matt says. "Oi just need ta sit fer a tic and not be on the corn. Fookin' women's basketball. Oi don't know the first fing about the bloody game, but Oi hate it."
"Well, 's not like me heatin' this up an' you takin' a moment t' sit an' relax're 'zactly mutually exclusive, y'know," Bernie points out, with a slight shrug, "...here, I'll prove it. Worst case it'll just get cold again..." She pushes back from the table and takes the plate toward the oven. "What's with Women's Basketball? Y'get a team in or fans or what?"
Matt leans forward, planting his elbows on the table and rubbing his temples. "Some competition in town this weekend. Oi fink there were four or five teams in. Oi've been in a two and eight since Oi hit the door."
Bernie pops the plate into the oven, and wanders into the pantry, emerging with a Guinness. "Sounds like a good time was had by all," she remarks dryly, and sets the can down by the Fianna, followed closely by a glass and the can opener. "'licia, y'want anythin' while I'm up? Plennya soda or whatever."
Alicia blinks her eyes a bit as she turns a page, having already forgotten their conversation. "Oh.. Um.. No thank you Bernie." She gives a quick smile, then lets her eyes trail to the pages again.
Matt cranks his head into a relatively uncomfortable position, trying to figure out what Alicia is reading. He doesn't appear to need to look at what he's doing anymore, to crack open a Guinness and let the goodness flow into a glass.
The book in the Galliard's hands is a romance novel of sorts. At least by the spine of it. It says 'Winter Hearts'. Matt's attentions draw her own as she glances over to him, wiggling her fingers in a wave.
Bernie shrugs, with a quick nod to Alicia. "A'ight," she replies, opening the oven and pulling the plate out with a towel. "Whatcha readin'?" She can't tell from where she's standing. The oven is turned off with a quick flick of her wrist, and she walks over to the table to set the plate down.
Alicia um's. "Its a romance novel. called Winter Hearts. 'Bout this really medieval chick who falls in love with some paladin. But she's like, kidnapped by a black knight or some shit. Insert lots of drama. She falls for the Knight, ends up boinking him a few times. Yadda Yadda. Its kinda boring. I could write a better one."
Matt glances up quickly, flashing Bernie a grateful smile. "Fanks," he adds. "Why not? Oi'm sure Oi could find a typewriter around 'ere somewhere."
Bernie smiles back, and gives Matt's shoulders a quick squeeze, one hand on each, before she drops back into her chair. "Zero sheen," she replies, and glances at Alicia, "Yeah, why don'tcha? Write one, I mean."
Alicia shrugs her shoulders. "I don't know. I could, but shit, I'd probably bore people with all the crap I'd put out. 'sides, it'd be all about romance an stuff, yucky, mushy crap and probably a buttload of sex. Hmph."
"So yer sayin' yer not Harry Potter?" Matt chides. "Seems ta me a lot of people read those fer the sex and romance and crap, as you put it. Might recommend a pen-name, though. We shouldn't be famous."
Alicia smirks at him. "Yer right, ah'll go by the name of Pretty-Paws. Sign it with a tiny wolf paw print underneathe my name with a heart."
Bernie snickers, "Betcha Danielle Steele's cryin' 'bout writin' that crap all th' way t' th' bank... jus' call yerself, like, 'Harmony Dubois' or somethin' an' whee." She grins, and takes a drink of her soda.
Matt chuckles. "Subtle. Very subtle. And your 'eroine could be a werewolf. But a /good/ one, 'oo doesn't eat people."
Alicia smirks at him, reaching up to release her hair from the tight bun. "Better yet, I'll just have a huge hard cover signing in New York city in my crinos form."
Bernie giggles, "I bet it'd cut down on th' lines..."
Matt shrugs. "Probably. And the ones 'oo did get a signature would really /'ave/ somefing..."
Alicia raises a brow upwards, then shrugs. Pushing herself up, she stretches out her body, wolf slippers flopping along the floor as she heads towards the fridge.
"Anyway," Bernie comments, idly tracing her fingertips over the paper in front of her, "'s no reason not t' do it 'f you c'n do better anyhow. Y'know, wit' your mad storytellin' skillz an' all." She grins briefly, and drains what remains of her soda.
Matt gives a there-you-go gesture, open palmed, toward Bernie, supplying the missing piece of his argument. "Exac'ly."
Alicia opens up the fridge and digs out a cheese stick. "Maybe. But still, ah'm sure if a sixteen year old went 'round publishing that shit, people would freak out and really think I'm a whore. No thanks, thats ok. I'll jus' keep my stories inside my head."
Bernie rolls her eyes, "Y'know, they don't make y'list yer age on th' 'bout th' author or anythin'. An' so jus' write it an' publish it in two years if y'want. An' c'mon, anyway, y'think anyone assumes..." she glances at the book cover, "...Rose Callahan's writin' from experience? Odds are damn good she's bnever been a medieval maiden. Hell, she could be a guy, mosta them write romances under female pseudonyms, I read. She could be sixteen. Or 98." The ragabash shrugs. "If y'don't -wanna- then jus' say y'don't -wanna-. But all th' supposed obstacles aren't."
Matt rubs his chin, fixing Alicia with an appraising eye. "What makes you fink anyone believes you're a whore?"
Alicia clears her throat and avoids the entire thing, especially when Matt speaks. "Mmm'k.. Anyways.." She unwraps the cheese stick, heading back towards the living room. "Anyone up to watch a movie? Oh..wait..we don't gotta TV eh?"
Bernie shakes her head, "Nope... though, we could go..." She trails off, remembering Alicia's still grounded. "Hmmm...." She starts thinking. "..there any actual -rules- 'bout there not bein' TV here, or is there just plain not TV here?"
Matt shrugs. "Oi understand they rarely survive lupus ahroun cubs. Used ta 'ave one, though, according ta Megan."
In the front rooms, Alicia slips onto the couch and plops down. Drawing her knees under her, she leans into the cushions, picking up the newspaper, skimming through it boredly. "Dunno...should get one tho'. Maybe hide it from the Ferals."
"I'll see 'f I c'n scare somethin' up," Bernie decides, making a note in the margin of the notebook's current page.
Matt shrugs. "Oi don't really miss it, ta be 'onest. Nuffin' on but pooftas and irons any road." He is about halfway through Bernie's plate of leftovers, showing no sogns of slowing down.
In the front rooms, Alicia turns a few pages in the newspaper, wrinkling her nose. "Hmm..."
Bernie murmurs to Matt, "...yeah, but you're not grounded..." She stretches a bit, and glances out the window for a moment before reaching over to snag his glass and slowly and not terribly subtly slides it across the table in her direction.
Matt lets the beer go, finishes cleaning the plate and stands. "Gwan. Finish it. Oi've got to bo peep, or Oi'll not be ready for round two of the Women's Basketball Intermural, or whatever it is."
Bernie sighs a little, and nods, pulling the drink the rest of the way toward her. She doesn't drink it right away, though, just looking at it for a moment. "An' we wouldn' wantcha t' be disqualified an' lose yer chance at th' 'lympics," she replies gamely. "...y' gonna be 'round at all t'marra?"
"Should be," Matt replies. "Oi open, so oi'll get out first. Goin' ta talk to someone at the bank, then come back 'ere."
"A'ight," Bernie replies. "Figure you'll be asleep when I get up there, so I'll talk t' ya when y' get back t'marra, most likely. Gonna work on a few things." She considers a few moments, regarding him, and then just finishes with, "...sleep well, yeah?"
Matt smiles, gently. "Will do, considerin' it's you comin' up later an' not Squall or Roger or..." dramamtic pause "...Alicia."
Matt retrieves his jacket from the back of the chair and heads upstairs.
In the front rooms, Alicia smirks as she lifts her head up slightly at the sound of her name, watching him go. Sticking her tongue out, she hmphs, continuing to flip through the sports page.
Bernie watches him go as well, until he disappears into the second floor, and then returns her attention to the remnants of the beer with a soft sigh. Taking a sip, she flips a few pages in her notebook, and glances over the table for her pen. It -was- here somewhere...
In the front rooms, Alicia glances over her shoulders at the sound of the sigh, eyes peering into the kitchen. "Hey Bernie, whatcha wanna do t'night?"
Bernie finds her pen, and taps it against the page for a moment. "...given that it hasta be an' actual, viable option? ...dunno. Was writin' a little. Figurin' stuff out. Y'know, shit like that, nothin' thrillin'."
In the front rooms, Alicia hmm's slightly and sighs. "I wish I could get off this grounding and have permission to go to the city and hang out with you guys."
"Yeah," Bernie replies, "'s 'bout time... then we -could- go see a movie or somethin'." She takes another swallow, "...hey, 'licia? Are -all- y'r clothes dedicated, or d'ya just hope not t' hafta shift when y'r in somethin' that isn't, or what?"
In the front rooms, Alicia um's. "Only my sweats are. Otha'wise, th'rest aren't. So ah'do'nt shift ta' the fuzzy form wi' them on."
Bernie mmms, and nods. "'kay... 's good t' know..." She glances thoughtfully toward the window.
In the front rooms, "Why'd ya ask?" Curious, she turns around on the church, staring into the kitchen.
Bernie grins a moment, glancing back, "Well, partly 'cause I can't keep washin' th' dedicated stuff so much or it'll jus' fall 'part, partly 'cause this may be my fave outfit but at this point I'm getting kinda sick of it anyhow, an' partly 'cause if I take my belt off, my pants fall down." She shrugs slightly, "...which reminds me, d'you have a needle an' thread by any chance?"
In the front rooms, Alicia wets her lips and shakes her head. "Sorry.. ah'don't. Um... Jarred took 'way all o' my needles when ah'first got 'ere." Her cheeks flush. "I was using dem' ta shoot up on the streets, an he made me go cold turkey."
Bernie blinks, considering that. "...I di'n' know that was -poss'ble- with sewin' needles..." She makes a face, "..gonna guess that means there aren't any in th' house, either, or 'least they're hidden well. Thbbt. Tha's another thing I better find I guess."
In the front rooms, Alicia chuckles and shakes her head. "Don't botha'. I don't think it'd be those kinda needles anyways. Well, ah' 'ad a few. Kyle would do weird shit wi' em an crank. Ah'dunno. Ah'had a whole baggy full of shit. I think Helen got my weed still, not sure if she's smoked it yet."
Bernie gets confused, brow furrowing slightly. "Wait... which kinda needles wouldn't which be?" She finishes off the Guinness, sweeps the dishes over to the sink, and scoops up her junk in her arms, heading out into the other room to drop onto the couch near the other cub. "...I gotta find a needle an' thread so I c'n, well, take th' band of my bra in a li'l, 's all loose now an' it's on th' tightest hooks already, so..." She giggles a little, "...been a long time since I smoked, come t' think 'f it."
Alicia rubs her eyes a bit, then softly yawns. "Don't get inta' it. Its not real cool Bernie." Pushing herself up, she heads to the stairs. "I'm going to bed. Lets talk about this fountain thing in the morning k?"
Bernie shrugs, "'s not worse'n smokin' anythin' else. But, obviously, 's not 'zactly a habit." She stretches, and blinks. "...an', um, I wasn't talkin' 'bout it... d'you have somethin' t' say 'bout it?"
Alicia shakes her head, climbing up the stairs. "No, but ya'll wanting ta' fix it, so ah'want ta'help." She smiles and waves, slipping upstairs. "Good night hon. See ya in the morning."
Bernie relaxes slightly, and grins, leaning back into the cushions, "Ohhh. Well, tha's a'ight then. Yeah, talk t' ya 'bout it t'marra, then... but it's a secret, so shh, 'kay? Sleep well... be up there soon 'nough, though you prolly won't notice."
The sound of her footsteps is the only response the new moon gets, until they face into the hallway.