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 A variety of out-of-date magazines are strewn atop a low coffee table; more neatly presented are the plethora of books filling the small bookshelves which line the eastern wall.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.
A lathe-turned wooden railing runs the length of the porch save where the steps are, well-worn with use. To the right of the stairs, a wide swing is suspended from the overhang which shelters this area; to the left, a small table is the centerpiece for several chairs pulled around it, all of which face out to the front yard and the fields and trees beyond. The biting cold of winter is tempered somewhat by the sheltering of the roof, but it is still enough to make the porch an inhospitable place to tarry for long. Even the low shrubs seem to avoid it, their leafless woody stems closed in tight upon themselves.
An aging screen door newly refurbished stands between the heavy inner door of the house and the outside air. Four steps lead down to the lane, a number of pots with small flower seedling carefully arranged alongside them.
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.
In the back of the house, Cameron looks startled for a moment, then whips his jeans back up and fumbles with the zip. "Hey! I mean..." he recovers shortly, leaning over with his hands still to button up, and whispers in her ear, "At least... not in the kitchen, eh?" He follows up by licking her ear lightly and fastening the button.
The front door opens, and Bernie wanders in, hands buried deeply in her jacket pockets. One hand emerges exactly long enough to open and close the door, no longer, before slipping back into its place. She stops short at the view in the kitchen, sighs a distinctly frustrated sigh, and turns directly around, reopening the front door again.
In the back of the house, Alicia rubs at her ear and smirks. "You bagged eight girls with that tongue? Dude.. so yuck. I don't know how they do it /down under/, but let me give you a few tips on how to use that correctly." Clicking her tongue ring along her teeth, she smirks, trying her best not to burst out laughing.
In the back of the house, Cameron looks a little hurt at both the comment, and the revealing of personal information in the house, but Bernie's walking out distracts him. "Woah! Hey! Why leaving? There's room for another!" Looking evilly back at Alicia he licks his own lips quickly, and hisses good-humouredly, "Just teasing, see. If I'd done it properly, /down-under/ style, you'd be breaking the litany before you knew it."
"Thanks," the ragabash's voice filters back quite dryly, though she doesn't look back to the kitchen, "but what can I say. Not in the mood right now." She shoves one of her unruly curls back behind her ear as if the lock of hair were respoinsible for all evil in the world and must be punished; regardless, it gives the usual complete lack of cooperation. With that, she steps back out onto the porch.
Alicia heads outside after her, closing the door behind. She looks to be in a hurry. "Heyyyy.. wait up."
Bernie isn't exactly hard to catch; she's only gone out and dropped sitting on the steps, staring up at the sky, arms around her knees. More specifically, on the first step. She doesn't look back as the door opens and the other cub speaks, just quietly replying, "....hey."
Alicia flops down next to her and lets her arms guide around the shoulders of the Gnawer, cheek gently brushing hers. Mrrr. "Ok buttercup, I noticed last night that something isn't...all right an you listened to me bitch. So, its yer' turn. Whats wrong babycakes?"
Bernie leans in to her friend a bit, but her gaze remains on the sky. This may have to do with the suspiciously shiny look to her eyes, as if tears were threatening, also likely responsible for the frustration that creeps into her otherwise fairly calm voice -- or perhaps vice versa. "So Valentine's Day," she begins without any other preamble, "I stopped back at th' flat after I came here, an' Matt'd gone somewhere, an' he left this note, be back soon an' all that. Only he's not back."
Alicia blinks a bit and oh's softly. "I was wondering where he'd been.. you know what he's up to?" She asks softly. Her arms give more of a stronger hug, relaxing against her back.
"No," Bernie replies, shaking her head, "....I mean, yes. I mean, maybe. Sorta. I went th' other day t' see 'f his boss knew when he was s'posta get back, an' 'parently he went t' Portland t' mess with somea th' citizenship legal shit. But, I mean, it's been more'n a week already..." Another futile, half-hearted attempt at curl repositioning. "I dunno. I guess I'm gettin' worried. An' annoyed, but someone said that happens when it's your moon anyway." She pauses, adding quite a bit more softly after several seconds, "...an' anyway I miss him."
Alicia nods her head and lightly kisses her cheek. "He'll be back, don't worry Bernie." A faint grin tugs upon the ends of her lips. "Anyways, that just means you get to hang out with me an help torment Cameron. He an I made up an stuff. I told a story to Sepdet an him an Cindy. woo.. Sepdet got kinda freaky at the end, ripped up a haybale. I guess my story touched close ta' home or something."
Still staring upward at the moonless night, Bernie nods slightly, and lifts an arm to wipe the moistness from her eyes with the back of her hand. "...yeah. Prolly. Eventually. An' I kinda gathered you guys made out." Slight smirk, as she 'corrects' herself, "...I mean, up." She sighs once, deeply, and squares her shoulders a bit. "'s good, glad y'all aren't gonna hate each other. I'm not any good at your kinda torment, though, so I don' think I'd be an asset. What story'd ya tell?"
Alicia blinks and bursts out laughing. "I've never kissed him. No. He licked my ear when digging through the fridge. Thats why I kinda made the comment." She says, then softly replies with. "I just told the story of my life, how I got my new deed name."
Bernie favours the toes of her boots with a slight smile, remarking, "I was jus' teasin' anyhow; y'know that, right?" What smile there is fades a bit at the story explanation. "An' ah," she adds, simply. "...sorry t' ruin your fun an' all. I jus'... couldn' deal with watchin' that kinda playin' jus' then."
Alicia nods her head slowly and sighs, staring out across the lane from her spot on the porch, hugging tight. "Its ok. It gets kinda old afta' awhile ya'know. Why don't you come inside an get warm? Its too fucking cold out here sis."
Bernie hugs back, and nods, swallowing slightly. "Yeah, a'ight. Inside's a thought." She extracts herself and stands back up, giving the stars a last look before she steps back up the stairs and onto the porch proper.
Alicia pushes herself up to her feet, then smiles, heading inside the front door.
Alicia slips inside with Bernie, rubbing her cold hands together. "Hey, Cameron, ya still here?"
In the back of the house, He's back at the table, and a third - nearly empty - bottle of guiness accompanies the two empties. Cameron sits there looking into his reflection, distorted by the bottle. "Yeah." he replies, absently.
Bernie follows Alicia inside, heading back toward the kitchen. She eyes the empty bottles thoughtfully. "...so you drink everythin' in th' house yet, or didja leave me some?" she queries, waving a hand negligently at them.
Alicia heads in after her and frowns at the three empty bottles. Passing by Cameron, she swats him upside the head, throwing him an unamused look. "Dork." She states firmly.
Wincing at the slap, Cameron mutters, "There's at least another eight in there." And angrily he adds to Alicia, "It's not that much if you take your /time/." Almost as if to himself, he adds, "I like the taste."
"What, only eight? Oh well, hafta make do, I guess..." A fleeting smile, as Bernie gets herself a mere one to hand, and drops even less gracefully than usual into one of the chairs around the dining room table.
Alicia flops down into a chair next to Cameron and gives him a bright smile, then slumps her head against his shoulder. "Awww....Its the taste that you love eh?"
Dropping his head to the table, Cameron eyes Bernie worriedly. "Are you old enough to be drinking that? I'd be careful... it can be a little strong." He totally ignores Alicia, watching Bernie to see if she's not joking.
"Strong enough for a man, but pH balanced for a woman," the ragabash replies flippantly as she opens the bottle, "an' I guess it d'pends 'f you ask th' judiciary, or anyone else." She takes a fair-sized drink, seeming utterly unfazed by it; looks like she likes it, in fact. She regards the bottle thoughtfully a moment, and remarks, "...bottles now. 'spect Matt'd approva that. But still in the fridge. Can't give full marks." Taking another sip, she adds, "...actually 's not bad cold either, 'f you ask me, but I'm not th' purist. 'f I got any pickier 'bout it, my tribe might hafta kick me out."
Alicia smirks and makes a slight face at the two who are drinking. "MMmmph.... Yuck. I can't stand that stuff really." She admits, pushing herself up from the chair. Giving them a quick grin, she slips into the hallway.
Cameron watches Bernie drink, incredulously. He looks a little puzzled at the way she thinks that it ought to be warmer, then realizes that Matt's involved. He snorts derisively. "Huh, well. You know the English. Old English saying: Hurry up and drink your beer before it get's cold."
Bernie grins. "Well, I know a -couple- of the English. The others are on the waiting list..." She glances toward the area to which Alicia disappeared, looking to see what the coggie cub's up to. "Hey," she calls after her, "you 'bandoning us? 'cause if so, you better remember th' support payments, you cad."
In the front rooms, Alicia has plopped onto the couch, drawing her sketch pad into her lap. With a grin, she calls back. "Hey now, I'm already giving ya half of everything, an you got my son." She motions to Cameron. "What else do you want woman?"
Cameron leans forward towards Bernie, and taps his nose. "She's just annoyed that I'm not responding to her feminine wiles." He winks. "But don't tell her that."
"I'm holdin' out for th' house!" Bernie calls back to the other girl before grinning at Cam. "Ohhhhhhh. I see, I see. My lips are, of course, sealed..." She takes another sip of her drink, relaxing back a bit in the chair.
In the front rooms, Alicia smirks and stands up, stretching out her arms with a yawn. "Mmmm.... Yes well..Maybe I can give you something to think about tonight Cameron." With a slight grin, she heads up to the stairs, calling back. "I'm wearing nothing but a smile tonight." With a last wink, she's gone.
Cameron grimaces terribly, but manages to call over, "Nothing I haven't seen before!" teasingly. Score.
In the front rooms, Alicia starts to hum 'can't touch this' by MC hammer as she goes up the stairs.
Cameron bahs, and drains the last of the drink from his bottle, disgusted.
Bernie manages not to blush much at that exchange, just shaking her head with the ghost of a smirk as she idly works on her drink. The remaining cub gets a curiously appraising look as he polishes off his third.
Cameron rubs his face, and glances idly at the three empty containers. Looking at his watch, he murmurs, "Now... when did I start? They say two in the first hour..." He shakes it away dismissively after doing some calculations, muttering, "Ah, who am I kidding. I need another one." He drags himself up and heads for the fridge.
Bernie doesn't seem to be in a vast hurry to get through her own, though she's doing fairly well at the job anyway. She watches the Fianna quietly a few more moments before asking, with the hint of a drawl, "...that bad, huh?"
Cameron looks over guitily, then shakes his head, pulling the bottle out. "What're you talking about, 'that bad'? I was always gonna have four..." Something about his eyes suggests this is a lie. "... I just want it /now/." He grumbles to himself as he opens, "Besides. I've had /way/ more /all/ the time, back home at the bar."
Bernie lifts a brow, one corner of her lips quirking upward. "I wasn' talkin' 'bout th' Guinness," she replies, "...drink all y' want, they'll make more. Take that back; leave 'least one, for now. I might want another." She shrugs slightly, getting one swallow closer to having to make that decision.
Cameron takes his seat again, and mutters, "I'm aware." but doesn't elaborate. Instead he throws his head back and swallows furiously. "Just tryin' to get a warm glow up. You know. That good feelin'. The world is cool, and after enough of these, I will be too."
"What my dad calls workin' up a good buzz, I s'pose," Bernie replies, coming close to the end of her own bottle. "So how come? 'cause I'm nosy like that. Just your basic frustration, or what?"
No-one can drink three and a bit Guinesses without at least a /little/ tongue-loosening. Cameron turns to Bernie and smiles wryly. "Well. Yes, you are. Nosy." Pointing at the brew, he says, "Because today, yet again, I have lost a little bit of someone's trust. I do what I can, but I don't always think about all the angles before I do what seems right. And so someone winds up hurt." Taking a swig, he continues. "Fortunately, people are resilient. They bounce back from being hurt." Taking another swig, he mutters amusedly, "...some faster than others..." to himself, then continues. "But there's always the trust. You always lose a little of the trust." With that, he finishes the bottle, and looks at it with a disappointed expression. "That didn't last, did it."
Bernie finishes off her own, sliding the bottle across the table to join the other cub's empties. "On th' other hand," she points out as she stands and heads to the fridge, pulling it open, "after a while you c'n also regain trust, y'know? 's onea those things that grow stronger with time anyhow, yeah?" She pulls two bottles from the fridge, holding them by the tops, and raises them toward Cam, with a questioning lift of her brows.
Cameron sits there, tight-lipped, staring intensely at the bottles. A brief struggle plays over his face, and he opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again. "Yeah, why not." He sends a neutral look over to the four empties.
Bernie nods and gives the fridge door a gentle bump with her hip to shut it. Dropping back into her seat, rather more gracefully this time, she pushes one of the bottles across to Cam before opening her own. "So this 'bout th' thing with Steven tellin' 'licia off, or somethin' else completely?" she asks rather casually, following it with the first sip of the bottle.
Cameron raises his eyebrows. "Oh, that's definitely one example, but it's a general rule. It applies everywhere." Opening the bottle, he drinks quickly, undoubtedly unable to taste it. "Oh, I know a lot about hurting people." He murmurs, when he brings the bottle back down. Two thirds full.
Bernie points a finger rather sternly across the table. "Drink slower, you," she commands, "or I'll make you drink th' domestic shit where yer better -off- 'f you don' taste it." Another smile there, as she takes an appropriately lingering drink from her own bottle.
Cameron laughs at that, taking an appropriately smaller swig. "Oooh, scary." He gives her a big grin. "Don't mind me. I'm an old hand at this." Eyeing the bottle, he murmurs. "I should stop, now. Finish this, and... sleep." He repeats himself, "Yeah, I should stop when I'm done with this one. There'll be none left, and that's not fair on anyone." He appears to be working up some determination. "Yeah. Last one." He adds.
"Last one," Bernie confirms, and grins back, adding, "an' it -is- scary. Or it oughta be, at least. A dreadful fate." She takes another swallow, and stifles a slight sigh, then can't help it, and grins wickedly, "...jus' be careful not t' trip over 'licia when y' go up t' bed. I mean, y'know what she said, an' who knows what impact clumsiness could have on th' covers. Tch. Can't have that, now."
Grimacing, Cameron gives the bottle in his hand a horrified stare. "I was going to sleep on the couch tonight anyway."
Bernie looks sincerely apologetic, though she can't help but laugh a little, which mars the effect. "I'm sorry," she says, "...that was mean. Funny, but not so nice." She takes another sip of her drink, and apparently is struck by a thought that amuses her, as she turns pink for a couple moments and is forced to cover her mouth with one hand to ensure no loss of liquid.
Cameron nods. "Yeees. Meeeen." He continues to stare at the bottle. "Though it /does/ bring to mind a certain phrase I used to be very fond of." He pauses. "That being: I need a drink." So saying, he tilts the bottle back, and swallows a few more mouthfuls. "So you gonna say what made you nearly lose your drink?" he adds when he's done.
Bernie takes another swallow of the drink, considering. "Nothin' earth-shatterin'. Jus' th' thought that 'f I made th' same 'nouncement 'licia did, people'd still d'cide t' sleep down on th' couch, but for entirely diff'rent reasons..." She grins, and shrugs a little, seeming cheerful enough about the crack to offset the self-deprecating content. On what's apparently a complete tangent, she asks, "...so you Fianna cubs us'ly prone t' dis'pearin' for days an' weeks without givin' a lotta notice first, or we just lucky 'round here?"
Cameron finally stops looking at the play of light on the bottle, and eyes Bernie. "Well. Someone decided that maybe I needed a little time to cool off and get to know the place a little better, since I was snatched up pretty much as soon as I moved to the US." He lets his gaze fall back on the bottle. "Special case. Got to stay with my kin uncle. Learn a bit about the place and Garou and stuff from him before he got sick of me and sent me back here." After taking a swig, he mutters, "Good thing, too, cause I was probably gonna get myself culled, the way I was acting. Questioning everything..." He then fixes Bernie with very sobre eyes. "That what you wanted to know?"
"Partly," Bernie replies, and takes another decently sized swallow of her drink before admitting, "...an' partly jus' bitchin' 'cause Matt ran off t' do citizenship stuff with no notice or time he was gonna come back. I hate gettin' worried 'bout people, I'm not anyone's mom." She makes a face, shaking her head as she takes another sip. "We gotta cub who does that, or was doin' that, questionin' ev'rythin' I mean, not runnin' off... 'parently he finally got somea th' point beat inta him, but I'm reservin' judgment on -that-... damn near got -him-self culled, too. Only I think sendin' him t' a kin woulda made for a dead kin, so you must notta been quite so big a handful, I s'pose."
Laughing bitterly, Cameron gives Bernie an odd look. "I'm timid as a pussy-cat." Something of pride in that look. "Got control, see." He finishes his bottle, and dangles it between two fingers. "Last one, see?" Putting it down gently, he reaches over and touches Bernie on the arm. "Matt'll be fine. He's a bit quick to flare up, but he /should/ be able to get himself out of anything he gets himself into."
"Mew," Bernie replies, with a quick half-smile. "Control's good. Better'n KAOS. Lower th' conea silence..." Another sip, nearing the bottom of her bottle as well. "...anyway, yeah. I know. But, y'know, still." She eyes the empty bottles, and remarks, "...hmm. We could almost set up bowling, with those."
Cameron shuffles the bottles together to make up a fairly messy triangle. "Yep. Better dispose of these, or there'll be questions later on." He stands up, and stretches. "Well. That certaintly made it easier to go to bed, now." He yawns a little. "Numbs ya. S'good." Picking up bottles, he nods at Bernie. "You hit the sack, if you're ever going to, Miss. You've just had yourself a fair bit of a nightcap, there."
Bernie grins again, and drains the rest of the bottle, setting it down on the table before answering. "Yup. Sleep's good. I'm gonna go 'head an' take 'vantage of th' Bohemian Decadence, though. Think I'm okay t' brave th' peril." The grin gains a tinge of smirkiness that swiftly dissipates again as she stands as well, lifting the remaining empty again and heading trashward with it. "Sleep well, yeah? Dream sweet an' all."
Dangling a bottle at Bernie in pendulum fashion, Cameron laughs again. "Thanks to these, if there's any luck I won't dream at all!" He smiles, and winks goodnight as he heads for the bin. Dumping the bottles in it, he saunters towards the couch. He wasn't joking about that.
Bernie shakes her head, still smiling a bit -- quite an improvement on her original entrance, at least -- and walks past the couch, up the stairs, and out of sight