A knock sounds on the door, just two quick, sharp raps.

Matt gets up from his new lime-green couch to approach the door. Peeking through the peephole, he quickly slides the chain and unlocks the deadbolt. He smiles as he opens the door. "'allo, Books. Ye could've used yer new key, y'know."

Bernie smiles back, one hand fiddling absently with the mentioned key, and nods. "I know," she replies lightly, "jus' figured it'd be p'liter t' knock. But 'f you don't want me to, hey, I c'n do that. Or not do that. Whichever!" She seems pretty cheerful, and her free hand holds two bags, one a smallish brown paper sack and the other a larger plastic sack.

Matt shrugs. "Gave me a chance ta move th' chain, I s'pose. Oi just want ye ta feel welcome, loike." He glances curiously at her bundles. "Did ye bring lunch?"

"Sorta," Bernie replies, glancing at the smaller bag, "...donuts. Breakfasta champions." She steps inside, and looks the chain over, adding, "...I think I could open that, prolly; we'll hafta see sometime. So how was work an' all?"

Matt shrugs. "Not bad. Mondays are hella slow. I doubt Oi'll be impressed wif the tipout when Oi pick it up." He gives Bernie a look-over. "'ave you 'ad yer jim, or were ye gonna eat donuts?"

Bernie wanders toward the kitchen, setting down the bag of donuts on the counter. "Neither," she says, "just, I ran inta Marcus this mornin' when I was gonna go get breakfast, an' we went t' th' donut store, an' there were several left over so I thought hey, shouldn't waste 'em or anythin', y'know?" She steps back out and offers the plastic bag to the Fianna, grinning.

Matt accepts the bag with some curiosity, opening it and looking inside. "A 'ousewarming gift?"

"Yup!" Bernie exclaims, "...I saw 'em an' thought they'd go okay with th' couch." The bag appears to contain a pair of soft, velvety circular throw pillows, in a bright yellow that actually does coordinate decently with the lime green upholstery. "...oh," she adds, looking slightly embarrassed, though she's still smiling, "somethin' under 'em too. 's silly though."

Matt gives Bernie a grateful look, then tosses the pillows onto the Comfy Couch (tm), to get at the secret gift.

Bernie giggles a little, sliding her hands into her jacket pockets as Matt looks through the bag. Beneath the pillows is a neat rectangle of fairly sturdy black posterboard, perhaps 4 by 12 inches, with letters cut out of magazines glued onto it, much in the manner of a ransom note, to spell "Bohemian Decadence". As he gets to it, she remarks, "...I got bored."

Matt chuckles. "Books, this is great." He takes the placard over to the wall opposite the door, and finds a nail left in the wall from the previous tenants. It doesn't hang evenly, but it hangs. Matt gingerly steps away, prepared to catch it if it falls off the wall.

Bernie grins, watching, and lets one hand out of her pocket to reign in a curl. "Glad y'like," she says, pleased. "...y'hungry? We could do dinner or somethin'. Oh, an' I saw a store havin' a sale on paint, so if y'still wanna do the ceiling an' walls, might be a good place..."

Matt looks dubious. "Well.... Oi was goin' ta watch th' big screen TV, but..." he shrugs. "Dinner sounds all roight."

Bernie smirks, "Hey, I'm up for puttin' in a DVD and experiencing the glorious full Dolby surround sound if you prefer..."

Matt snorts. "Roight...."

Bernie half-smiles, and shrugs. "Well, whatever..." She leans against the wall, and studies the other cub appraisingly for a few moments.

"We could call fer a pie, too..." Matt adds, "if Oi 'ad a phone." He crosses to the kitchen to pull his jacket off the back of a chair. "C'mon. Assuming no one's boosted it, we can take the scooter."

Bernie nods, and pushes off the wall to follow. "Sounds like a plan t' me. Should I look for a phone for ya, d'ya think? Only then there's phone bills, 'course. On th' other hand, pizza. Tricky."

Matt frowns. "Mebbe later, Books. Still not sure Oi'm goin' ta be 'ere a monf from now. If not, well." He shrugs again. "You've got a key."

[...one quick trip to the local Chinese restaurant later...]

Matt sets his little boxes of rice on the 'dining room' table long enough to take off his jacket. "So you say this is good take out, hey?"

Bernie nods, slipping her backpack and own jacket off as well, and setting them beside the sofa. "Well," she remarks, "it was kickass when Yi was cookin' there... dunno if whoever they got doin' it now's any good, but hey, we'll see. I gotta go back with her soon an' try that persuading thing she wants t' teach me..."

Matt grabs the food from the table and kicks off his shoes near the door, before joining Bernie on the couch, settling in next to her and passing her dinner to her. "Whot, the Gift? Learned it from Megan, me. Doesn't guarantee they'll do whot ye say, eivver." He snaps his chopsticks apart. "Hmm. Even. Good luck."

"Is it?" Bernie asks, with slight surprise, "...I mean, beyond it being much easier t' eat th' food? Cool. Hadn't heard that." She sets her food aside long enough to follow suit on shoe removal, though she just sets her boots by her other things, and then retrieves her dinner, and eyes the chopsticks carefully for a moment before trying to snap them. "Anyway, I dunno how t' do it yet, but Yi figured it'd be a good way t' try it, askin' th' guy for her job back, or at least t' pay her her last check, so hey, 'f that's what she wantsta do." Snap! "...-almost- even... damn."

Matt nods, opening his rice and squeezing some soy sauce into it. "Sounds good, joost don't expect ta be some kind o' Jedi, or somefin'." He alternates between lo mein and fried rice, fairly deft with his chopsticks, comfortable. "Persuasion just makes you more...convincing, hey? you still need a good argument."

Bernie pulls her feet up beside her on the couch, curling up comfortably, and shakes her head. "Funny you should say that, that's th' analogy she was usin' t' describe it. Includin' that sometimes, like with th' blue guy in th' prequel, it doesn' work. Anyway I kinda gathered y'couldn' just go," she makes a gesture across Matt's field of vision, and says spookily, "'these are not th' droids you're lookin' for...', 'zactly, so I tried t' get more info from her 'bout what happened an' all, an' I'm thinkin' 'bout how t' argue with th' guy..." She dumps some of the box of cashew chicken atop her steamed rice, and starts to eat it, not an expert with the chopsticks, but not dropping things, either. Between bites, she adds, "...'least I think th' guy's kinda a jerk, so I won't feel all guilty 'bout manipulatin' him if it works..."

Matt also speaks around his food. There's surely a reason Shadow Claws likes him. "Well, Yi's good at babblin', so it's not so far-fetched that 'e'd cut 'er a break. Yer gift joost makes it a much more /convincin'/ argument."

Bernie nods, thoughtfully. "...yeah... well, we'll see I guess." She goes back to eatin for a few moments before something occurs to her. "Drinks!" she exclaims, "..whatcha want?"

Matt appears surprised to have forgotten. "Um," he says around some lo mein. "Coke?"

Bernie nods, and swings her feet down, setting her food aside as she heads into the kitchen and acquires two of the cokes from the fridge. Bringing them back, she hands one to Matt, and then reclaims her spot, making a face as she pops the top. "I'm all hyper today," she remarks, sounding a bit annoyed.

Matt puts his food box between his legs and takes the offered can, popping the top in the conventional manner. He favors Bernie with a quizzical look. "As opposed to...?"

Bernie sticks her tongue out at Matt, but then grins. "As opposed t' -not- bein' all hyper, like usual! Hmph." She takes a sip, and picks up the box again, figuring out how to balance the drink and food -and- use the chopsticks all at once. "I feel like standin' up and pacing or somethin'." She shrugs, "...but then I wouldn' be able t' balance th' whole meal, an' everyone knows you're s'posta have balanced meals. Plus, people pacing is annoying."

Matt sets his coke on the floor next to his feet while he eats, picking it up occasionally to drink. A magnanimous gesture in Bernie's direction. "Pace if ye want to. Never bovvered me when Tom did it. Why, if ye doan't mind me askin'? Too much sugar?"

Bernie shakes her head, brow furrowed slightly. "Nah, tha's not it... I mean, I hadda donut for breakfast, an' another one later, but tha's it, an' trust me, tha's -nothin'-. Sometimes near th' enda th' month at home I'd be pretty much livin' on junk food, an' I don't really get sugar highs anyhow. So nah. But I dunno why... just restless." She shrugs, picking through the chicken with her chopsticks to find a cashew.

Matt says "It's Luna, Books." Matt offers. "If you 'ad more rage, ye'd not just be restless, ye'd be dangerous. Me, Oi'm 'opin' that twisted bint Kylie doesn't work tomorrow night, because oi don't want ta 'ave ta spend the shift concentratin' on not breakin' 'er legs.""

Bernie considers that, and nods slowly. "...seems likely," she decides, "'s practic'ly a full moon an' all, so..." Another nod, slightly firmer. "Great, though, that means it'll prolly be like this ev'ry month. Bleh." She sets the food aside, and does stand, now, with her soda, wandering around the living room. "...so how's th' Kylie-girl twisted?"

Matt shakes his head. "She's joost a bitch. 'Matt, can you get 43 cleaned off some time /soon/?' 'I'd be makin' more if the bussers would clear faster so I can turn my tables...' "

"Ugh," Bernie declares, making another face, and paces into the kitchen, and back out again. "Tell you what, I'll come by an' hide her in th' dumpster 'til it's safe again..." She grins evilly, if fleetingly, and turns, wandering back behind the couch. "We oughta take th' fountain photos soon. So we c'n figure out th' next bit," she declares, changing the topic completely.

Matt snorts. "If she needs 'idin' in the dumpster, Oi'll 'andle it. It'd be a pleasure." He ponders while he eats. "We could go ta th' fountain tonight if ye loike. Oi've no plans, and the light'd be good." More soy sauce. Coke.

Bernie grins again, "I meant safe from -you-..." She finishes off her soda, and nods as she treks back to the kitchen to throw the can away. "Yeah? 's true, it would. An' then I'd be -doin'- somethin', which sounds really appealing at th' moment. Yeah. Let's, then, I got th' cam'ra in my backpack anyhow...."

Matt finishes his coke, and dumps the rest of the lo mein on top of the rice, closing that container and gathering up everything to take into the kitchen. The empties go into the trash, and the leftovers into the fridge. "Oi'd offer to ride you, but all fings considered, you'd probably be better off takin' the planks. 'S not that far anyway."

"Much as I love th' scooter, yeah, th' noise an' all... 's kinda distinctive." Something of an understatement, coming from her, at least. "... you -are- comin' with, though, right?" She pauses in her pacing to lean over the kitchen counter, looking at Matt.

Matt nods, pulling on his jacket and stepping into his shoes. "'course. Someone's got ta keep you from doing anyfing stupid, roight Blackjack?...I mean, Books?" He winks.

Bernie laughs, and heads back to the couch to reclaim her own outdoor gear. "So I was readin' this nifty recipe for explosives in th' Anarchist Cookbook th' other day...." she teases, relacing her boots, and grins up at Matt. "Good t' know there's someone 'round t' save me from myself, I s'pose."

Matt chuckles, tying his own shoes. "Keeper of th' Ways an' Questioner of th' Ways. By roight,s we should make each ovver mental."

"Either that or strike a nice balance," Bernie suggests, standing and pulling on her jacket. "....anyway," she adds a little more quietly, after a moment's consideration, as she buries her nose in the main pocket of her backpack, rummaging for the camera, "...the case could be made that y' -do- make me mental, one way or another. 's not always such a bad thing."

Matt seems a little floored, any response he might have made dead in his throat. Blushing, he stammers. "Books, I...'ave a lot of fings Oi'm waiting ta deal wif after Oi get back from me Rite. Until then, so much is arse over tits...Oi..." He runs out of words, and gestures awkwardly, ending up holding the door, if she's ready to go.

Bernie blushes slightly herself, pulling out the camera as she finds it, and putting it right back in, though on the top, now that she's sure it's really in there and hasn't gotten misplaced somewhere. "'s a'ight," she replies, glancing up at him fleetingly, "I know." She shrugs lightly as she stands, swinging the bag onto her shoulder, and precedes him through the door. "Thanks..."

Matt offers Bernie a hand after he locks his door, to hold as they walk.

Bernie accepts, slipping her hand into his and starting down the several flights of stairs.

At ground level, Matt steers Bernie past the Lambretta, giving it a quick visual check, and east, toward the river.

Bernie glances around, checking for any signs that people have decided to stay late in the park tonight, as they wander toward the fountain.

Matt becomes a little more alert, in the Park, checking, as Bernie does, for late night patrons, as well as the Flying Brigade.

Bernie smiles, seeing that the park seems suitably deserted for the plan. "Good," she remarks softly, glancing over at the apartment buildings as she heads for the plywood enclosure.

Matt nods to Bernie, sidling up to the enclosure nonchalantly.

Bernie pauses about two feet from the door, and glances around as casually as she can manage once before focusing on the lock, chin lifting a bit as she gives it that insufferably superior smirk. It's quicker this time, some of the rust having been rubbed off before, and the lock opens with a clink. The ragabash reaches out quickly and unhooks it, slipping the thing into her jacket pocket, and grins at Matt before pulling the door partly open and dragging him inside behind her.

Once inside the enclosure, Matt pulls the door to, running the chain through the lock without re-locking it. Turning, he assesses the damaged fountain while Bernie gets the camera out.

Bernie blinks a few times in the darkness, letting her eyes adjust, and moves her backpack around to the front, pulling out the camera and the flashlight. The latter, she hands to Matt; the former, she keeps, edging her way around the ruined fountain.

Matt plays the light across the remains of the fountain, noting the places where parts are not only broken but also missing. It is possible to get a good idea what the fountain used to look like, especially if one has had a chance to look at Bernie's notes.

Bernie takes several pictures -- about half the roll, really, which does nothing for her night vision, given the flash in the small area. Somehow she manages not to trip and break anything (fountain, plywood, or self), however, and completes a full circuit of the remains, getting the best shot of what's left of the inner workings that she can, as well. "A'ight," she eventually murmurs, "...tha's about th' best we're gonna get, I think... we oughta be able t' do th' rest from here."

Matt steps over by the entrance, peeking out. By some miracle a crowd seems not to have gathered (Come see the flashing fountain!), and this part of the park is still deserted. He steps out quickly, ushering Bernie out and closing the door again. "Brilliant," He breathes.

Bernie giggles, pulling the lock from her pocket and carefully replacing it from whence it came. "...there," she murmurs, stepping back to regard her handiwork. No obvious signs of entry, at least... She grins broadly, and rather triumphantly, at her partner in crime, adjusting her backpack on her shoulder. "Go us."

Matt nods in agreement. "Yep. We are the dog's bollocks. Let's go. I'll buy the ice cream." He grins and offers the crook of his arm.

Bernie slips her arm through, still grinning like a maniac, and hums quietly as they wander out of the park.

Matt, for his part, whistles the theme to Danger Man.