Matt unlocks the door and pushes it open with his foot, hauling a stacked pair of wooden dining-room chairs into the living room, setting them down near the kitchenette. The keys to a U-Haul are sticking out of his jacket pocket, a U-Haul rented in his father's name to pick up furniture from Goodwill.

Bernie follows, carting a matching pair with some slight difficulty, trying not to be too out of breath. Damn, that's a lot of stairs. She sets them down unceremoniously with a thunk near the opening to the kitchenette, and leans on them a moment, looking around the room. "...we're gonna carry th' sofa up that way?" she asks, almost incredulous.

Matt grins, also a bit winded. "Oi bet it'd be a lot easier in crinos." He unstacks a couple of the chairs so he can sit in one, offering the other to Bernie. "Or, we could get some 'elp. Maybe Oi should call in a marker the Gnawers keep promisin' me..."

Bernie accepts, dropping into the indicated chair. "...Rar. Somehow I think people'd frown on th' Crinos Movin' Service, so 'f we can't do it, I'd think th' latter's a better idea... I say we leave that 'til last, an' cart ev'rythin' else up first."

Matt nods. "We should bring in th' groceries, too, so th' cokes can get cold." Not the Guinness. That goes on top of the fridge. He stretches a little, letting the muscles in his legs warm up for more exercise. "'oo do we know 'round 'ere? Oi know the Rialto's over that way." He gestures vaguely east.

"Right," Bernie agrees, with a quick return nod, "an' th' church isn' too far either... an' there's a couple other places 'round here we might find people, too."

After a moment, Matt decides his furniture isn't going to move itself, despite fervent wishes so. He slaps his palms on the thighs of his jeans and levers himself to his feet, holding out a hand to Bernie to help her up. "Well, only four or five more trips, hey?"

Bernie takes the hand, gripping it tightly for a moment as she rises. "Thanks..." she comments somewhat absently, glancing up at the ceiling, "...you know what I was thinkin' last night? Be cool 'f ya painted th' ceiling in there black, an' put stars on it..." She grins at him, adding, "..'f y'wan'ed to, I could figure out th' constellations for ya."

Matt ponders, obviously liking the idea. "We could find paint wif phosphorus in it," He adds, pushing out the door to the landing, headed for the dining table and groceries.

Bernie smiles and follows, ready to face the trek again, "Right! So it'd glow properly in th' dark..."

A few minutes later, Matt returns, this time wrestling a sturdy wooden table into the room. He wriggles it over near the kitchenette and begins to push the chairs around it.

Bernie comes back in laden with as many sacks of the groceries as she was able to carry at once, barely able to see around them. They hit the kitchen counter as lightly as she can manage, though there's still a bit of a thunk and several clinking noises as they do. She starts to unpack them.

Matt moves to help, deciding where groceries are going to go, and where there shall be plates, etc. The fact that the kitchenette won't really hold the two of them simultaneously without a good bit of bodily contact is merely a bonus.

"Guinness," Bernie announces, withdrawing the beverages from the bag and turning to display them in the small space currently between the two of them, "Not th' fridge, obviously, but where would y' like them?"

Matt nods above the fridge. "'ere, 'and 'em ta me. Puttin' 'em up here." He sets the cans on top of the refridgerator. Should stay warm there.

Bernie does as requested, passing them over, and turns back to the bags, unpacking more items. "Good choice, keep th' Guinness Gnomes from stealin' 'em," she teases, setting aside some ground beef for future refrigeration.

Matt laughs. "Oi actually 'adn't fought o' that. Oi was just puttin' 'em near the icebox, but warm." He steps back out of the kitchen toward the door. "Oi'm goin' for anovver load. Back in a tic."

"A'ight," Bernie replies cheerfully, pausing for a second or so as she watches him go before returning to unpacking and folding the grocery bags. The foods that need to go into the fridge or freezer get placed there next.

Matt returns, backing into the room with a drawer-less dresser, which he sets down to rest for a moment. Not that most people would notice, this time of day, but he's a bit larger and hairier than usual.

Bernie glances out from the kitchenette, and laughs, shaking her head. "My, how you've grown," she declares, and goes about putting dry goods into the cupboards. Anything misplaced can always be moved.

"'sa bit 'eavy fer just me," Matt rumbles. He picks up the dresser and heads for the bedroom.

Bernie steps out of the kitchen, moving quickly to catch up, "D'ya want some help then?"

"Oi've got it, Books," Matt calls back from the bedroom. "Fanks." He comes back into the living room, smaller. "Groceries stowed?"

Bernie nods, "Mmhmm, all ship shape an' ready for inspection, Cap'n." She heads back in there, picking up the pile of now empty grocery bags and putting them in one of the drawers.

Matt heads for the kitchenette, per implied instructions. Lookin' in the cabinets, he moves a couple of things, but not much. "Oi was goin' ta keep this side clear for dishes and whotnot, but Books, you and Oi must fink alike. Everfing is fine in 'ere."

Bernie smiles, quite pleased at that. "Glad t' be of service," she replies happily, "...so let's see, what else've we got out there? 'side from th' couch, course... drawers, right? An' th' odds an' ends, too..."

Matt nods. "Drawers, def'nitely. Finkin' of callin' it a noight after that, actually. Oi've got the U-Haul until tomorrow anyway. Unless you joost /want/ ta haul half that couch up five flights of stairs..."

Bernie laughs, shaking her head. "...nahhhhh, I think I'm willin' t' share th' glory with others... we c'n recruit everyone we know, an' supervise," she jokes. "A'ight, then -- drawers." She starts to head out of the kitchenette, though Matt's currently between her and the nook's opening.

Matt graciously allows Bernie's passage with the sketch of a bow, then joins her in the retrieval of drawers. There are six of them, so two could do it in one trip.

Bernie eyes the drawers, and then stacks three atop each other, lifting the resulting tower and wrangling it toward the bedroom. "Mmph... 'scuse me..."

"But of course, Miss." Matt moues in his English Butler voice. He follows with the other three drawers, and helps Bernie puzzle them into place. "well, once again, you're more than welcome ta stay. Oi've got ta get up fer the corn tomorrow, but make yersel' free wif the mickey." He grins. "Not loike oi could lock you out anyway..."

Bernie giggles. "I wouldn' come in 'f y'said I couldn't," she assures him -- slightly different, of course, than saying she wouldn't unless he said she could. "...an' yeah, y'know, 'long as I'm not wearin' out my welcome or anythin'...?" She tilts her head slightly, looking at him.

Matt offers a shy, disarming smile. "'course not. 'oo else would 'elp me get this place suitable for Bohemian 'abitation, hmm? Always welcome, you are, Books."

Bernie smiles somewhat shyly herself, and the eternally ill-behaved curl gets its usual essentially useless relocation behind her ear. "Yay," she replies, the smile widening a touch. She glances toward the mass of bedding a moment, before asking, "...d'ya mind 'f I ask a slight favour?"

Matt shrugs. "An' it be wifin' my power...."

"'spect so," Bernie replies, with a slight giggle. "Just wondered if y'd mind 'f maybe I borrowed onea your t-shirts for th' night? t' sleep in, I mean, 'stead of my sweater."

Matt reacts with mock shock. "One o' /my/ shirts? Aye, an' oi suppose you'll be wantin' a /clean/ one, ta boot!" he says, as he pulls a faing black t-shirt out of the duffel. 'PiL' is printed on the front, thoughthe lettering is fading. He hand over the shirt far more willingly than his protests might indicate.

Bernie laughs, accepting it. "Sandshoe," she replies, giving him a quick, sideways grin. "Promise t' give it back in good condition, an' all." She removes her backpack, setting it on the floor beside the dresser, where her jacket swiftly joins it. "...PiL?" she queries, giving the shirt another glance.

Matt glances at the shirt, noticing the logo. "Ah. Public Image Limited. Band Johnny Rotten...sorry, it's Mr. Lydon now...formed when Sid Vicious got all brown bread an' the Sex Pistols went pfft. Not bad, a bit iron in the eighties though."

"...nift," Bernie decides, giving the garment a nod, and sets it on the top of the dresser as she leans down to unlace her boots. "...'s a'ight if I take these off, right? We don' hafta go out again an' lock anythin', or some such?"

Matt shakes his head. "Oi got th' door when we brought up drawers. An' Oi don't fink you're goin' ta scuff anyfin' too badly. Kick 'em where ye loike." He smiles, getting undressed down to jeans himself.

Bernie doesn't exactly kick them, after she finishes the unlacing, but sets them down neatly beside each other, and straightens up. Blushing slightly, she turns to mostly face the dresser, and quickly pulls the sweater off, and the t-shirt on, over her head. It's followed by the contortion shy girls employ when changing into, say, a swimsuit in a semi-public place, and she pulls the bra out from it swiftly, wrapping it in the sweater and setting the bundle atop her jacket. The trousers join the pile before she half-hides beneath the blankets.

Matt pointedly examines the ceiling and opposite wall for cracks, flaw in the paint, or visions of the Virgin Mary, waiting until he hears Bernie fairly snug under the covers. At this point he joins her, putting an arm around her and providig a shoulder to lay her head on.

Bernie accepts the shoulder (and the gentlemanly behaviour) rather gratefully, snuggling in with a quiet sigh that transforms into a quickly covered yawn. "Mm... pr'ductive day..."

"Aye," Matt yawns as well. "...oi 'ave furniture." He sounds well pleased, and the heavy presence of the dresser somehow anchors the room against the tide of night sounds that filter through the building and windows from outside.

"See?" Bernie comments, quietly, "...I told you places attract stuff. We'll wake up in th' mornin' an' suddenly th' place'll be fulla furniture..." She shifts slightly, getting more comfortable, and gradually drifts to sleep.