The sound of a truck driven badly may or may not be familiar by now, but the bustling noises outside probably are. And the Kaz coming through the door, paper bag in hand, talking over her shoulder to the two Gnawers following her, probably is too. "...No, I don't get this, like, impulse to fucking kill himself, it must be that he's fucked in the head, but hey, who cares, I ain't /there/ right now, so I can /relax/."

In the back of the house, Owen steps into the dining room through the sliding glass door.

"I just wish," Bernie grumbles, following Kaz in the door, "that if he's gotta be suicidal, he'd be a li'l more fuckin' -effective- 'bout it..." She sighs, and shakes her head, tucking several curls back behind her ears as she enters. They've returned to their original position within five steps. "But yeah. Relaxin' good. I approvea it."

The lack of horrible screeching and crashing metal sounds makes for a pretty safe assumption that that Kazzy woman driver didn't plow the van through the other vehicle parked outside. The Mystery Machine, if it were inclined towards anthropomorphism, would heave a sigh of relief. Instead, it just looks sad and junkyardable. Inside, its driver, Nevada, is dozing off on the couch, bits of straw stuck to his clothing.

Yi simply growls her dislike, but doesn't voice more than a small comment, "Maybe he's trying, but we just don't see it..." The canto-gnawer has been thinking about her and Nev's earlier conversation on similar topics.

In the back of the house, Owen walks in by the back door, dufflebag suspended from his shoulder and a roll of duct tape in hand. He goes first for the fridge.

Kaz tosses the bag on the couch and then flops onto it herself, not taking off her coat yet. "Tryinna do what, die, or get better?"

Bernie joins Kaz on the couch, dropping her backpack on the floor and tkaing up her usual spot in the corner of the cushions. She looks the dozing Gnawer over curiously, and picks off a bit of straw, looking it over as well before flicking it aside. "Either way, he's not tryin' hard -enough-."

Sighing, Yi takes up a spot beside the couch on one of the floor cushions. "That he's trying to get better. He's still young, and obviously hard headed. But maybe we don't need a sledgehammer to learn him. Just some underhanded slip-in-his-ears acid." Her eyes gaze upwards at the two she came with. "If we keep telling him he's dumb, incorrigible, then he's either going to fight it, or believe us."

Nevada jumps like a shot cat when the bag and Gnawers hit the couch. For a split second, he's not sure if he just awakened to an ambush or alien abduction or freaky kidnapping or what. But, seeing that it's only a room full of twelve foot primal killing machines, he lets the panic out with a breath. Farmhouse. He's at the farmhouse. OK. "Uh," he says, blinking at them. "Morning."

Coming down the stairs rubbing a hand through his hair, and with his other in a jacket pocket, Cameron looks a little rumpled, as if he's just woken. "I knew someone who was told by everyone that she was dumb. She started believing it." he announces to the room by way of greeting. "Pity, because I liked her. She was strong, and actually smart. But shit happens." He stops at the base of the stairs, scanning the room.

The metis, who has particular reason to wince at the idea of self esteem issues, winces. "Yeah. I know. I been tryin'. I try t'... T'actually make friends with him, but then he always goes and pisses me off. An', I dunno, mebbe if I can't treat him like a human bein', I should stop teachin' him, except then --" She breaks off as Nev wakes up. "Um," she says, awkwardly, "Sorry. I never wake up when people do that, see."

Bernie shakes her head, looking over at Yi, "I never told him he was stupid or couldn't learn, all I ever said is he -won't- which he -won't-. Drives me up th' fuckin' -wall-." She shakes her head again, trying to clear some of the seething annoyance the other Gnawer cub engenders in her, and manages a smile and a wave of greeting to Cameron before she picks another bit of straw off Nevada and queries, "...what, you been havin' a roll in th' hay?" And wonder of wonders, no blush. Apparently she's adjusting somewhat.

Kaz grins as she spots Cam, but then it fades into something that looks almost like guilt. "Shit," she mutters, and rummages in the bag, silent.

Yi shrugs a little and wets her lips. "And I knew someone like him. Sifu kicked him out of class plenty of times." She turns her eyes away, neck muscles tightening a little. "He ended up turning on us. Went dancing, you know," she says in a barely audible whisper.

In the back of the house, Owen pulls a coke out from the fridge then puts the duct tape into a cabinet. Done with that, he walks on into the front room, dropping the dufflebag with the sound of metal and wood clanking around at the doorway seperating the rooms.

Cameron raises an eyebrow at Yi, and smiles ruefully. "Just gotta love being us." He mutters, with a hint of acid. In a more congenial tone, he adds, "So many guests. Can I get anyone anything?"

Kaz comes up empty, and then just looks at her hands. "Nah, Cam," she says, quietly. "Thanks, though." Kaz, struck silent. There's an odd sight.

"Actually," Nevada says, suavely looking like he meant to be all hay-ey,"I'm trying'a transmogrify into a Chia pet. You ain't helpin', Bunny." He mock-swats at her hand, grinning at her. He leans in to scratch at Yi's hair, lightly, in greeting.

Cameron shrugs, and returns his other hand to his jacket pockets, then after a few moments of looking queryingly at Kaz, he stalks into the kitchen.

Kaz takes some hay out of Nevada's hair, mutters, "Scuse," and heads into the kitchen.

Bernie ahhhhhhhs, with a slow nod, as if this were an eminently reasonable explanation. "Well, that ain't gonna work, y'know. Y'need -sprouts- for that. So, see, what we do is, we go buy us a packeta seeds in th' city, then we hose ya down an' stick 'em t' you. Given some sun we oughta be makin' sprout sammiches in no time, Ch-ch-ch-chia." She grins back, now, and adjusts herself more comfortably in the corner. Yi's comment removes some of the cheeriness she'd regained, as she replies, "Yeah, well. Y'know that old sayin', 'f you're not with us, you're 'gainst us? I don' wanna see him havin' t' be killed or goin' t' th' dark side either, but he's gotta get -with- us...." She shakes her head again, slightly. "I'm gonna shut up, now. Y'all c'n handle what t' do with cubs."

Yi attempts to lighten the mood she seemed to have brought down yet again, with a glance towards Nevada. "You're trying to be green?" Then as Owen steps in, her eyes slide over towards all the clanking and clunking duffelbag of doom.

In the back of the house, Cameron is brewing a mug of coffee when Kaz enters the kitchen. He appears to hear her entering, and turns to check and see who it is, then returns his attention to the kettle.

In the back of the house, Kaz ambles over and hands him the bag. It would seem to contain Ding Dongs. She looks at him silently for a moment, and then asks, "There some reason why you're comin' out all acerb t'night?"

"It ain't easy," Nevada informs Yi. The darkening of mood seems to have gone over his head entirely. And that's quite a feat, considering the way his hair's sticking up. This he notices, apparently, by some strange instinct, and corrects oh-so-smoothly. His Fashion Sense is tingling. "Growin' stuff on me?" he asks. "I d'know.. I ain't that dirty." He licks a finger and tries to scrub a smudge mark off his jaw.

Owen casually opens his can with a pop, then leans against a wall. "Sounds like your cub is still bein' a shit."

In the back of the house, Cameron raises an eyebrow at the bag, and looks at it amusedly. "Hmm. These for anyone specific?" He looks back at Kaz with the same slightly amused expression. "Could ask you why went all silent when I came in, too." The kettle starts to boil and he turns to deal with it.

In the back of the house, Kaz says, "Think of it as a gift, since it is, sorta. Or anyways, it ain't a loan." She starts at the teakettle, and takes a deep breath. "'Cause you said somethin'. Hit home. That's all."

"...still, again, whatever," Bernie mutters, and eyes Nevada. "Yeah, you're right, not dirty 'nough. Remind me we oughta cover you in, like, peat moss, or sod or somethin', first."

In the back of the house, Cameron turns and smiles. "Sorry, then." He rubs a hand through his hair, and stirs his coffee with the other. "I always thought it'd take a bit more than bad memories to make you shut up." He gives her a wink and a wide grin, then focusses on the mug.

In the back of the house, Kaz actually looks fond, through her exasperation. "Bad memories of a cub I lost, and bad memories of my own upbringing. Kinda hit home twice. Happens that way. Still don't answer why you're in th' mood y'are. 'Less I'm just imaginin' shit."

Yi gives the Get another cautious glance before deciding he's going to be relatively harmless for now. "That'd mess up his recent haircut though wouldn't it?" she comments back at Bernie and Nevada, glancing up to the just this morning butterfly-knife mowed hair atop the galliard's head.

In the back of the house, Cameron's mouth twitches slightly, and he smiles wryly to cover it. "Bone Gnawer." He brings the coffee mug in front of him and leans against the counter, stirring. "Only the usual. People I care about are in trouble, and I'm here. Waiting, waiting and waiting some more. I know I had a pretty serious break, but it's like I've come back here to square one." He takes a sip of the coffee and licks his lips.

In the back of the house, Kaz snorts. "Yeah, that's me. 180 pounds of rough'n tumble nonsense. Who," she adds with a sigh, "Is feelin' guilty for almost givin' up on someone. But I can't..." She stops, and shrugs. Thumping her heel against the wall, she gives him a look. "Rina. Mob. Stuff like that, huh? She ain't on their list, if it helps."

Owen takes a drink. "Did I hear something about needing a sledgehammer when I walked in?"

Nevada and his wickedass 'do regard mere mortal Yi with a patient, benevolent look. "Nothing but an act of God could mess up this hair, really..," he says, leaning back. "That's the cool thing about it. It gets out of place, I look like I'm too busy wit' important things t'care. It gets stickin' up, I look wild an' reckless. It gets dirt in it, I look all lost an' alone an' sensitive-like. It gets hay in it, I look like... I made a comment to Ms. Alicia Jackson regarding her sibling's dire need of getting laidness."

In the back of the house, The look of slightly angry surprise could be either a warning that Kaz's comment had better not be fals hope, or from the fact that he's just snorted boiling coffee through his nose. Either way, Cameron looks incredulous, and annoyed. "The fuck? You sure you got the /whole/ list this time?"

Bernie laughs. "Oh, is -that- whatcha look like? She not take that well?" The cub pulls her legs up beside her, curling them around. "...an' she 'round here somewhere, then, as a further question?"

In the back of the house, Kaz shrugs. "I dunno. All I know is, she ain't on the list. I dunno if it's a whole one or a half one or if it's been ripped out of a 300 page book where they keep all the names of people they wanna kill, but the list /I/ saw ain't got /her/ name on it. That's all."

Yi rubs the back of her neck to soothe some bristling about sledgehammers. "Nothing at all," she murmurs to the Get as she blinks back towards the kitchen. Nevada's comment elicits a soft chuckle from her, before she turns her gaze. "You know Alicia's brother?"

In the back of the house, Cameron's face is a picture of hope lost. He wipes his face, muttering sourly, "I see. Is it Chaser's pack's list? If so, it's not complete." He swishes the coffee around a few times in his mug, then tosses it in the sink, disgustedly. "No, maybe she's not on their hit list. Maybe throwing her out of a speeding limo covered in bruises is their way of introducing themselves." He turns on the tap and washes the freshly-brewed liquid down the sink, staring at it as it circles the wrong way down the plug-hole. "She's on the list."

"She's back at the compound now, mos' likely," Nevada says. "I came here lookin' f'you, Bunny, an' hey, there she was. But she agrees wit' me though, 'bout Big Tex. In fact.. " A grin starts to appear, but the newcomer Get, the coffee snortage, and Yi's question distract him. "Uh.. Benedict. Yeah. Y'could say that."

Owen shrugs, then finishes his drink, crumples the can, and goes back intot he kitchen to dispose of it.

In the back of the house, Kaz eyes the cub dubiously. "Man, remind me to come here next time I wanna be depressed. Hello? Ain't you never heard of optimism? Ain't you never heard of believin' in possibilities? Ain't you never heard of hope? An' besides," she adds, "We're lookin' out f'her. I mean. As much as we can." With a mutter, she adds, "As much's she'll let us."

Bernie grins. "Eggs. I dunno, he seemed okay t' me. Kinda intense 'bout findin' 'lish, but can't really blame him for that... I oughta try an' see 'f I c'n find him, act'ly, I gave him a letter for her, only then when I went t' see 'f he had one t' send back, he wasn't 'round, an' then I kinda got distracted by everythin' else, 'cause I suck." She shrugs, sheepishly.

Yi gives Bernie's foot a light pat. "We'll have to swing by McDonald's some more. But that whole thing about Alicia's brother being kinfolk... well he might and he might not be, but that's for her tribe to decide and act on." She pauses. "If they act on it."

In the back of the house, Cameron's response is a shaking of his head as he heads to the fridge to fetch a can of Guiness. As he does so, the cub mutters under his breath, "/Damn/ her... fucking soldier, my ass." Turning to face Kaz with the can in his hand, Cameron smiles ruefully. "Maybe if this were a little less important." The can is opened, and he slams it down.

In the back of the house, Kaz looks at him steadily, despite the slamming. "Cameron. She /is/ a fucking soldier, and if you fuckin' forget that, you're gonna be in a world of trouble, once you get outta here. Don' ever try'n make her int' somethin' she ain't. Th' fact that she's also all fucked up and stuff, that's just... Well, not really the point." She adds, looking down, "An' I don' think I'm really in any shape t'be yellin' at you t'night."

"He has to be Kin," Nevada says, shaking his head. "I'm sure of it. In fact, I'll bet my -- " The Galliard pauses, glancing toward the kitchen.

"-If- they act on it," Bernie replies to Yi. "But by then he might be collectin' Social Security. Don' worry, I'm not gonna do anythin' t' test, though." She shrugs slightly, and glances toward the kitchen herself, listening to the other conversation a bit more openly.

In the back of the house, Owen tosses the can into the garbage. Not meaning to overhear but doing so anyways, "Her? That ain't your cub you're talkin' about."

In the back of the house, Cameron winces at the taste of the beer and Kaz's words, both. "Anytime. I need it." he mutters. He sighs, and looks at the can in his hand wearily. "You heard the expression, 'Not on my Watch'?" He smiles at Kaz warmly. /Almost/ mockingly so. "Welcome to my new creed."

In the back of the house, Kaz tilts her head. "What, you gonna live the thought?"

In the back of the house, Cameron chugs a bit more of the beer. "Well, it's a damn sight better than the old one. 'Better you than me'." he mutters defensively.

In the back of the house, Kaz starts grinning, quietly. "Dude, you're my hero. Remind me to whine at you, next time I'm here, but I gotta go crash."

In the back of the house, Cameron grins wryly. "I hope you don't mean literally."

In the back of the house, Kaz clarifies, "Sleep before I die." Nudging him on the shoulder she adds, "See y'later."

Yi has also been quietly listening to the conversation in the kitchen, but then raises her voice a little to direct her question to Owen. "I think I heard somewhere that you were accompanying Jarred to Hanford. Is that right?"

In the back of the house, Cameron nods at Kaz, and blows a kiss. "Plenty of time to sleep when you're dead. Still." He grins and works on finishing his beer.

In the back of the house, Kaz calls into the living room, "Barn. Be in the barn, if y'all want me," and heads out there.

In the back of the house, Owen doesn't get an answer from his inquiry. He's about to go back to the fridge when he hears the question from the other room directed to him. "Jarred is following me to Hanford, yes," he corrects.

"What's in Hanford?" Nevada asks, lifting an eyebrow.

Yi nods towards the kitchen and turns to Nevada, a short smile casting on her features. "We'll find out soon enough. But there's a caern there. And some problems with it or something." Her hand comes up to gesture vaguely.

"How's Jar Jar been, by the way?" Nevada turns a glance to Yi, looking serious, even though he's reaching over to apply a noogie at Bernie's curly head.

In the back of the house, Owen corrects again. "There's a Caern there that should be dead. I'm gonna see if it really is or, if not, if it's being used by something."

Bernie hmmms. Interesting. Anything she might've said, though, is pretty much lost as she squeaks a little and ducks to try and avoid the attempted noogie. Not the dreaded noogie, no! Of course, a couch isn't the easiest place to maneuver, really.

Yi tries to look on dead serious as well, but fails and lets a light chuckle follow as Bernie squeaks. "I don't know, really, haven't seen him since his challenge with Steven-rhya. I've been busy trying to rally others for another go at the sewers."

In the back of the house, Cameron finishes his can and crushes it into a very tiny ball. Which he then tosses into the bin. The cub fetches a new one and leans against the counter, considering walking out into the living room. For the moment, he contents himself with just listening and drinking.

In the back of the house, Owen gives Cameron a quick look, then proceeds to return to the front room.

In the back of the house, Owen passes through the open doorway for the front part of the house.

Nevada, now that he's suitably messed up Bernie's hair, roars and hugs her before he turns a look back to Yi. "Let's drop in on his place, outta the blue, one a'these days. Bring some pizza, some music.. good times," he says, grinning already. Then, he looks serious. He flipflops faces too easily. "About those sewers, Mulan.. "

Bernie makes a face, looking rather comically put out, but then grins, and hugs Nevada back before standing and heading toward the kitchen, finger-combing her curls as she goes. One advantage of unruly hair is immediately obvious: when people mess it up, it really doesn't make that big a difference.

"They're ugly, the underground. But after making a map of what manholes are where, aboveground, it's pretty safe to say if we regain the sewers, we will have a safe transportation route." Yi replies, glances towards the kitchen again.

Owen retrieves his dufflebag, shouldering the strap. He then makes his way out the front door.

"I wanta go wit' you all down there," Nevada says, leaning forward, arms slung on his knees. "I mean, nothin' gets me more excited than the chance'a drownin in a river a'human excrement, but it's /our/ river a'human excrement, damn it, an' the Wyrm can't have it."

In the back of the house, Cameron sculls the can and crunches it in a gesture of annoyance. After fetching another beer, he heads out into the Living room.

Bernie's foray into the kitchen seems to be targeted; she heads to the fridge and rescues one of the remaining cans of Guinness from the fate for being drunk by a Fianna cub. It gets to be drunk by a Gnawer cub, instead. Lucky beverage. Can acquired, she bumps the fridge shut again, and wanders back to the living room to reclaim her seat.

Yi nods. "I announced it at moot. So far, it's Signe's pack, Fenrir's Teeth, what Gnawers I can gather that can go down there, Allie, Sepdet, and maybe some more if they make it. The meeting will be very soon, as the moon is growing." She glances towards Bernie. "And... as much I really wish you could go, I would rather you stayed behind to watch the church." She keeps her gaze somewhat steady. "The sewers are /really/ ugly." She pauses, then also makes a note. "I have to ask Kaz sometime where Elan disappears to. And ask Sepdet, or some crescent, about talens. We can't fight what we can't see."

"What kind'a Wyrmspawn we lookin' at, here, 'zactly?" Nevada's eyes are firmly on Yi, even as he greets Cameron with: "Hey, Sketcher."

Bernie gives Yi the 'aw, mooom!' face again, and pops the top of her can. "Y'know, -'ventually- I'm gonna hafta go do that kinda thing..." She shrugs a little, though, and drops back into the couch corner, taking a drink.

Cameron stops dead at that, and eyes Nevada warily, sipping at his beer. "Right." he mutters, and goes over to lean against the wall near the doorway.

Yi glances at the can, almost thinking she might try one sometime around this time. "You will eventually yes," she replies to Bernie softly. "For now, we need you on the Veil-front, about that skeleton matter. If you can find Leda, that is." Yi looks at Nevada to respond. "Banes. Fomori. Whatever is breeding them," she replies seriously, though trying to keep the mood a little lighter in that aspect, she adds quietly, "Maybe some Ninja Turtles."

The Turtles comment elicits a wide grin from the Galliard. "Damn. Well, we can take 'em. Buncha pussies." He puffs up. "'Sides, wit' the Gnawa contingent we got goin' on, we can be our own Ninja Turdballs."

Cameron wrinkles his nose a little. "I'd love to fight, but... you know." He gestures around the farmhouse. "Under house-arrest."

Bernie finishes curling up again, and giggles at Nev's comment. Aside from that, she goes quiet, and just sips her drink, looking a little bit subdued.

Yi nods to Cameron. "It's appreciated, really it is." The Gnawer looks sincere on that. "I don't quite remember all that much from my cubhood... other than being shoved in a closet for almost half a day at times," she muses softly. "But that was necessary." She wets her lips a little. "The turtles we can handle I'm sure," she grins at Nevada. "It's those not quite glow-in-the-dark banes, that might put up more fight than Splinter."

Steven sets his brown paper wrapped bottle down and blows into his cupped hands. "Colder than a witch's tit, out there."

Cameron shrugs. "I'm game. But yeah." He looks up at Steven's arrival, and gives him a respectful nod that merges with a slight nervousness. "Evening." His gaze falls on the brown paper bag, and the Fianna cub finishes off his beer.

Bernie, having barely started on her beer, continues to sip it, still curled in the corner of the sofa. She sits up a tiny bit straighter as the Fostern walks in, and lifts a hand in a slight wave. "Evening," she echoes.

Yi changes gears a moment as everyone seems to turn towards Steven. She too greets the fostern with a respectful dip of her head as she sits upon her floor cushion. "Evening, Steven-rhya."

"Splinter?" Nevada squints. "I figger, though, he'd be on our side. Bein' a giant rat, an' all... " He yawns into his palm. "Must be late, if we're anticipatin' eight foot 80s turtle men in a sewer raid." Like 'Sketcher,' Nevada nods to Steven. He doesn't know who that guy is, but if you see people with scars like that, you respect. Aretha Franklin would be proud.

Steven picks up his bottle and heads into the room, nodding mostly toward Cameron. "Nice little party you got here, kids. All you need now is a campfire, marshmellows, a deck of cards, and someone singing Kumbiyah."

Cameron grins and wiggles the empty can at Steven. "Settling for drink and wyrm-talk."

"Well," Bernie remarks, "I can provide the former and latter, and I think thing Yi can do the third, and there's marshmallows in the pantry... but I doubt a campfire on the rug would go over well, somehow." She sips her beer again, almost thoughtfully.

Steven shoves the bottle in Cameron's hand. It's quite chilled. "Drink something real," he says at the last. Bernie gets a quick considering look and then he turns back to the other Fianna.

Yi chuckles. It's like on cue, a deck of cards slips out of her sleeve and into the palm of her hand. Ah the skills of a not-so magician, or thief. "Right. Thanks to Joey of course." She grins a little before the cards disappear somewhere again. Her grin slides to Nevada. "It's late yes. Ought to be accompanying Kaz in the barn, or something."

Cameron looks at Steven with the beginnings of a smile, and tries to get a look at the label. "Eamon taught me something that should make this easier." The smile grows warmer. "Should I get some glasses?"

Steven snorts. "Don't need no glasses, kid. Just drink and shutup, already."

Nevada shoots Yi with a grin, one that's drowsy. "You go accompany t'your heart's content, or whateva. I think I'm ganna get gone. Get my ass back. Don't want to leave Numbnuts all by his lonesome. You take care, OK?"

Yi ponders this, then glances to Nevada, rising to her feet. "Well, I have some wok-oiling to do early tomorrow as well. Should head all the way back. Mind having a stray tagging on your heels?" She grins lopsidedly.

Cameron grins, and opens the bottle, taking a sniff as soon as the cap's off. The grin widens, and he tips the bottle back gently, a decent mouthful flushed through the throat. The cub blinks to keep his eyes from watering and smiles. "Mmm." He nods at Nevada, and reaches to give the bottle to his elder.

Yi adds towards Bernie, "Come with, or staying?"

"Sure, but ya don't gotta wok," Nevada says. "Brought the car, yo."

Bernie lifts a hand again, this time to wave to her tribemates. Apparently, she isn't joining them at present. "Fine then," she remarks good-naturedly, "Abandon me. I'm gonna stay here t'night, I think. Maybe sleep better." She shrugs slightly, and finishes the wave. "So, thanks, but nah. Later, Yi, ChiaPet."

Steven starts to take the bottle and then thinks better of it. "Keep it," Steven says. "I'm good for now." He watches some of the Gnawers clear out and then falls into his favorite armchair. "What's new?"

Yi glances from Nevada to Bernie, to Nevada, and back again. "Sure... I'll ... see you." She looks reluctant to leave from the newmoon cub's words, but moves towards the door still. "The car? The mystery machine?" Her query goes to the galliard.

A slightly surprised expression crosses Cameron's face, to be replaced with one of something resembling contentment. He gives smiles and nods to the departing Gnawers, and takes another mouthful from the bottle. Attention returning to Steven, he shrugs. "A Gift. To clear my head. Eamon's teaching me to shoot. Apart from exercise and chores... that's it."

"OK doke, see you aroun', Bunny," Nevada says, wiggling his fingers in a wave. The Fianna get a nod, Cameron in particular receiving a thumbs-up. The Gnawer Galliard heads out the door, yawning, and starting to tell Yi all about the bitchin stereo system capabilities that the shitmobile may or may not possess, depending on the antenna that's in the process of falling off.

Steven leans back against the cushions, and asks, "What about your girlfriend?"

Cameron's face freezes, and he eyes Steven neutrally. "Which one?"

Bernie seems content, for now, to sit quietly in her preferred spot, sipping her drink, and listen a little absently, as if half her mind were on something completely else.

Steven chuckles. "You have more than one?"

Some tension leaves the Theurge, and he takes another mouthful from the bottle. "Depends on who you're thinking of as a girlfriend. And how you define it." He raises an eyebrow at Steven, a slightly amused twist to his smile. Danger apparently nonexistent.

Bernie can't resist. "Oh, but darling!" she protests, in mock-wounded tones, giving Cameron a hurt look. She can't keep it up, though, and laughs a little. "Sorry," she adds after a brief pause, "just had to."

Steven just eyes the Fianna cub. "When did you turn into Bill Clinton, for fuck's sake."

Cameron smiles ruefully, and takes another small mouthful of the whiskey. Licking his lips, he answers, "Age 15. My idol, that man."

Bernie grins, and goes back to her beer, gradually seeming to space out a bit again.

Steven just shakes his head. "He's a giant cock. Any guy who cums on a woman's dress should have the decency to dry clean it." His attention slides toward Bernie for a minute, and then back to Cameron. "It's been a while since we talked about tribal stuff. Where'd we leave off?"

Cameron raises an eyebrow. "I jest, of course. Still." His eyes roll up into his head, seeming to think back. "Uhm. We haven't talked in a while." Remembering, he winces slightly. "I think... uhm, no. I don't remember what we last discussed. Or if we did actually /discuss/ anything."

Steven looks faintly concerned. "Nothing?"

Cameron smiles wryly. "Your fist is perhaps the most prominent memory."

Steven doesn't look as amused. "You might get a brush up on that lesson if you don't watch it, smart arse." He takes a deep breath. "The Fianna are the descendants of the great Celtic hero Fionn MacCumhaill. The only tribe with a longer reach into history than ours is the Silver Fangs, and not even their Galliards can tell the tales as true." He looks faintly annoyed. "You haven't heard all this yet?"

Cameron scraches his head. "Yeah, well... no actually." He eyes the bottle a little guiltily, and replaces the cap. "Ah... you got time to tell it to me sometime?"

Bernie remains quietly drinking, and looking perhaps slightly more conscious of the conversation in the room, thought she tries not to look as if she's really paying attention. They might stop talking.

Steven nods. "Later, though. Not at 3 am." He stands up and takes back his bottle now. "Sorry we never got around to it sooner, kid. Just... never realized, is all."

Cameron nods, and looks at the floor. "Yeah, I know. My fault... I woulda pointed it out earlier, but... I mean." He clears his throat. "Later's better than never, right?" He runs a hand through his hair, and massages it a little.

Steven returns a tight nod. "It's better than never," he agrees. "G'night." He stretches to the ceiling and then heads for the front door.

Cameron nods again. "Night."

"G'night," Bernie adds, though she doesn't bother to wave. It seems a bit unneccesary.

Cameron exhales and runs his hand through his hair after the Fostern leaves. He stares at the floor, and licks his lips absently.

Bernie regards the other cub a few seconds as she takes another slow drink of her beer. "You a'ight?" she queries, then.

The Fianna looks up with a slight start, and nods quietly. "Yeah. I mean. Yeah." He pauses, and adds, "Guy's a proven jerk, and heavy handed in the extreme. But... I don't know. Letting him down feels bad."

"Lettin' people down always sucks," Bernie remarks, "but c'mon, 's not 'zactly your fault 'f no one taught ya somethin', right?" She pushes a curl back, and grins. "Big'n'Scary oughta be dis'poin'ed in whoever was s'posta've taught ya that already, 'f anyone. Right?"

Cameron hmmphs and looks at the ground, smiling ruefully again. "It was /him/ who was supposed to teach me." Beneath the hair, his eyes narrow. "And I let him down in lots of ways."

Bernie nods slightly, as if this only proves her point. "Well, see? An' how so? Y'don' seem like a partic'larly annoyin' cub t' me. But then, I may've had my standards lowered," she admits, dryly.

Cameron stuffs his hands in his pockets and continues to stare at the ground. "Oh, well... you know me. Flouting laws I don't know exist until I've broken them. Flouting the ones I do know about." Chewing his lip absently, the theurge mutters, "Still. The beat-downs were good for me. I needed 'em. I'd be like Rotem, otherwise, I guess. From the sound of things..."

Bernie looks rather disgusted, but clearly not at the Fianna cub. "No, 'cause see, you got beat down, an' you show all signsa havin' -learned- th' lesson. Anyway." She sits up a bit, shifting indian-style, and regards him curiously. "What laws y'been floutin'?"

Cameron lifts his head to look at her, and gives a cheeky grin. "None of your business." Followed by a wink. "No breaking, just pushing the envelope. And some things that aren't /laws/ as such." He looks to the heavens, and brushes some hair out of eyes filled with innocence. "But I'm a Good Cub now."

Bernie grins back, a slightly wickeder edge to it than usual. "Rules were made to be interpreted," she replies, "but envelope pushing's s'posta be -my- job, innit?" A slight pause, "....now, 'course, I got visionsa movin' junkmail across th' table, or tryin' t' get li'l kids t' buy letters, c'mon, th' first one's always free..." She takes another sip, with a bit of a shrug. "Good Cubs have more fun, anyhow. 's just like normal school, that way. Y'know?"

Cameron smiles, but at the mention of school, he shrugs, and chews his lip. "Yeah, maybe they do. I need a drink." He doesn't move, though.

"'cause the other four, they were jus' warm ups?" Bernie queries, arching an eyebrow slightly. She regards her own beer a moment, noting the imminent appearance of the inner bottom of the can, and adds, "Hmm. Act'ly, me too. Damn."

Cameron mutters, "The only time you stop drinking is when you feel better. And if you don't..." He smiles. "Well. You wind up not feeling anything."

"'side from sick?" Bernie asks, finishing off the can. "...dunno. Wouldn't know, really... never drank 'nough at once t' find out, yet." She uncrosses her legs, pushing them out in a straight stretch ahead of her. "..rar," she remarks softly, and drops them, soles of her boots hitting the floor flat.

Cameron chuckles, and murmurs, "Sick is for /after/. Consequences. Shouldn't think about 'em. Might stop you from doing what you want." He laughs self-deprecatingly and shakes his head.

Bernie half-smiles, with a rather wistful, "....yeah. They suck like that. Stupid things." She pushes up from the couch, empty can in hand, and heads back toward the fridge. "So. You want one while I'm up anyway?"

Cameron leans back against the wall, letting his fingers tap against it. The tapping intensifies as he considers. "Uhm. Y.. N... nah, don't worry about it."

Bernie throws her can away, and opens the fridge to replace it. She doesn't ask Cameron if he's sure. He obviously isn't, so why make him think it over again? New beer in hand, fridge reclosed, she wanders back into the room, and sort of dumps herself back into her usual corner seat. No one else being on the couch, though, she lets her legs lie out straight across the cushions for the moment.

Cameron continues to tap against the wall, and run the fingers of his other hand through the hair that hangs over his eyes. "Well. Maybe." Decided, he stalks over to the fridge and pulls out a can. "S'not like I actually have to stay drunk if I don't want to."

Bernie pops her can open, and takes a fair sized swallow from it as she finishes getting comfy. "Mm. That would be cool t' know how t' do. Matt c'n do that too. 's a Fianna thing, huh?" A hand sweeps behind her, freeing the curls caught between her back and the sofa arm, and flips them over it. There, that's better.

Cameron opens his own can and stalks quietly back into the living room. "Yeah. Tribal." Taking a few mouthfuls and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he mutters, "Not automatic, though. Gotta /use/ it."

Bernie considers. "Wonder 'f I could learn it anyhow. Though, 'f I hadda pick, think I'd rather know th' thing t' make things not hurt...," she muses, and then sighs, eyeing the can a moment before taking another, somewhat larger swallow.

Cameron nods grimly. "This'll have to do for now." he mutters, and throws his head back, not stopping until the can is drained. He crunches it and heads for the kitchen.

Bernie watches that, and looks back to her own can, a bit glumly. She doesn't attempt the same thing, but does seem to be drinking this can a lot more quickly than the first. She takes another fairly long drink, and turns the can around, staring at the label.

The Theurge returns with two cans, one in each hand. The boy nods at Bernie and mutters, "Heads up." before tossing one of them over to her. Cracking open his own, he looks about ready to attempt another draining, but settles for a few mouthfuls and a thoughtful look at the girl on the couch.

Bernie looks somewhat startled, but does manage to catch the tossed beer, just barely. She doesn't spill the open can, but mostly because even the most optimistic person would have to admit it's not even half full anymore. "Thanks," she replies, sticking it into the crack between two cushions for safekeeping. That done, she goes back to working on the open one.

Cameron nods, and continues on his own, watching the girl in silence.

Bernie finishes off the can, and sets it quite neatly on the floor beside the couch before picking up the waiting one. There is, for a moment, the definite impression that she wants to say something, but she either can't think of anything or decides against it, popping the new beer's top and taking a sip.

Cameron wiggles his own can about a little, testing it to see how much is left. He heads for the stairs suddenly, drinking until he has disappeared out of sight.

Bernie watches curiously as he heads off, pausing in her own drinking. It occurs to her that technically, she'd be drinking alone now, which she seems to recall was one of the signs of A Drinking Problem back in health class. Oh well. It probably can't be considered a problem if you haven't even gotten drunk, right? Right... She takes another drink, a slow one, and her free hand moves to her neck, fingertips sliding back and forth along the unimpressive chain there.

Cameron returns a minute or two later with an empty can. He mutters, "If you're gonna drink 'piss'..." by way of explanation, and continues into the kitchen to fetch another can. When he returns, he settles back up against the wall, and continues to look at the girl on the couch.

Bernie nods slightly at the semi-explanation, takes another sip, and looks right back at Cameron, now that he's got her attention again anyhow. What the heck. Eventually, she remarks, sounding somewhat bemused, "I have the def'nite urge t' starta conversation 'gain, only for some reason, I can't thinka anythin' t' ask. Or say. Or whatever."

Cameron folds his arms, and nods. He keeps his head down so he can just peer at her through his fringe. "Hmm. Yeah. Well. I can get the ball rolling..." He looks up so she can look him in the eyes. "But you've gotta answer with absolute honesty."

Bernie considers that for a moment. "...how come?" she asks, tilting her head slightly as she looks back at him. "I mean, not tha' I wou'n', but, anyway." The fingers slipping along the chain still, and she starts idly wrapping and unwrapping her index finger in it.

Cameron snorts lightly. "You'd be surprised. Everyone lies to this question, even subconsciously sometimes. Simple enough, though." He pauses, and tilts his head. "How are you feeling?"

"With my fingers." The cub's answer comes like a reflex, no hesitation. She pauses afterward, though, before giving a real, or at least more serious, answer. "I dunno. First off, d'pends how y'mean, like, do I feel dizzy, or like do I feel annoyed, right? So, physical or emotional or somethin' else completely I'm not thinkin' of right now?"

Cameron smiles, then lowers his head again. "Your pick."

Bernie half-smiles. "Helpful," she remarks, and goes quiet again, taking a sip as she thinks. "Lessee. Physically... a'ight, I guess." She shrugs a little, assessing. "...yeah. Not bad. Pretty decent. 'motion'ly..." More of a pause on that one. "...dunno, 'zactly. Been better though. Why?"

Cameron shrugs, with his head still down. "Cause that's the next question, now. What's wrong emotionally?"

Bernie sighs a little, and goes back to reading the fascinating label on the can for a few moments. "...dunno... stuff," she replies, most informatively, before taking another swallow. She does elabourate some, though, after that: "y'know. Just gen'ral stress I guess. Bein' pissed off an' worried an' frustrated an' shit." Another slight, dismissive shrug.

The Fianna smiles knowingly and raises his own can to his lips. "See." he murmurs. "Almost always. Evasion or straight out lying, no-one answers totally honstly."

Bernie sighs, and shakes her head. "No, honestly," she says, a little quieter, regarding the can again, or at least appearing to. "I dunno, really. That's as best's I c'n figure out. 'least without goin' inta all th' details an'... I dunno. Whatever. So how're -you- feeling, then? Show me a proper honest answer t' th' question." She takes another drink, getting rather closer to done with the can that she really ought to be yet.

Cameron snorts. "Evasion. Deal with it, don't palm it off to me. Everyone knows how I am, because I suck at hiding it. But you... if you can't tell yourself. Go into the details." He takes another sip. "You should never go without knowing how you feel yourself." he mutters. "Even if you don't like it, you should at least /know/."

"Possibly," the other cub grants, toying with her can. "Wasn't an evasion, though. Was a question. Which you evaded, 'f we're keepin' score." Her voice drops quieter again, and she suddenly notices what her hand is doing, dropping it back to her lap, "...anyway."

Cameron growls. "I asked first. Ain't about me." He nods and gestures with a finger towards the chain. "You play with that when you're avoiding things, or in deep thought. It's important to you, or rather, the memories or thoughts attached to it are. Maybe you can go into that."

Bernie's free hand moves back up. This time, it fingercombs her curls before settling on the chain and key, this time consciously. "'s my key," she says. "...not that I act'ly technic'ly -need- it I guess, but, y'know, someone might be watchin' when I went in sometime, so y'never know... y'know?" She takes another drink of her beer, and peers at it suspiciously. Yes, the darn thing is emptying again. Dammit. They always do that. "'s funny, I was jus' gettin' useta not wearin' my star anymore, an' then I didn' hafta. So hey."

Cameron stalks silently into the kitchen and fetches another two beers, returning without a sound. He nods, and murmurs, "What star was this?"

"Stara David," Bernie replies, "got it when I was, like, tinytiny an' all, an' 'bout when I was thinkin' 'bout not wearin' it, I found out th' like underlyin' meanin's of th' symbol, so I kept it. 's, like, protection from bad shit, an' luck an' all. So, I lent it t' Matt. For his Rite an' all. 'cause they're dang'rous." She stops then, looking slightly chagrined, and takes another drink of the beer, setting the can down beside its sibling when she's done.

Cameron strolls over silently with the two full cans, and gently pushes her legs out of the way so he can sit on the couch. "And the key?" he murmurs, cracking open both cans and handing one to Bernie.

Bernie accepts, shifting positions now, and pulling her legs in, folded to the side. "'s t' th' flat," she says, simply, and takes a sip of the new Guinness.

Cameron nods, and leans back on the couch, sipping lightly. "And why's it so important to you?" he asks, coolly, but gently. He looks into her eyes as he asks.

"'cause," the Gnawer begins, and then stops, and blinks once. She thinks about it a while, without drinking any more. "'cause it's kinda... home now, I guess," she says, when she speaks again.

Cameron sips, and keeps looking at her. "What's that mean to you?"

Bernie thinks about that. "...doesn't -mean-. Just... -is-." Giving it a bit more thought, she adds, "...now, anyway. Maybe won't be later, dunno." She takes another sip of the beer, and eyes Cameron. "You're bein', like, psychologist guy, seems like. You gotta diagnosis?"

Cameron makes a small, amused noise in his throat as he sips his beer. "Yeah. Doin' a real good job of it too. Can't even get you to spill when you're drinking. You need more beer." he mutters with a small grin.

Bernie giggles a little, drinking some more. "Whaddaya want me t' spill?" she asks, "I mean, obviously not th' beer..." She giggles again, at her joke, definitely on the tipsy side.

Cameron shrugs, sipping his own, and he looks genuinely puzzled. "I don't really know, to be honest. You seemed to have something you wanted to work out, but I can't figure it out. You're a mystery to me, Bern."

"Well, 'f y' dunno," Bernie asks, a bit slower than usual, as she thinks the question through, "...how d'you know I di'n'?" She adds, shortly thereafter, "an' I think forgot t' say thanks for this one," a slight lift of the can, "so, thanks." She looks the can over again, and half-smiles. Apropos of nothing obvious -- maybe it's just the brand of beer -- she remarks a bit more quietly, "...I wish Matt would come back. 's like when 'lish hadda be all lupus-only in th's woods. Only worse. 'cause I could kinda visit her, 'least."

Cameron sips thoughtfully on his own beer. Although it is true that you have to use the gift, the Fianna seems to be unaware that he is, merely wishing to clear his head to think about things better. Either way, he sinks further into the couch, and murmurs, "Miss him, huh? I didn't get to know him too well before I left." He looks at Bernie. "There's not anything untoward, there, is there? You miss him like a brother?"

"'s my best friend," Bernie replies, "him an' 'lish. Got lotsa brothers already; don't miss 'em. Three. Well, sometimes. Wait. I mean, always three, an' sometimes I miss 'em. There. Jus' not us'ly." She sighs, and lifts the beer again; she seems to have reverted to sipping, at the moment. Possibly for the best.

Some amount of tension leaves the young Fianna. Of course, there was nothing to worry about, but the way she was holding that key... Anyway. He nods, sipping his beer, and watching her do the same. "Maybe that should be your last." he murmurs.

Bernie looks at the can again, as if it might be labeled 'nah, keep going' or 'yup, last one here'. Seeing neither, she makes up her own mind, nodding a little. "Mmm, yeah. Poss'bly."

Cameron clears his throat, and downs the last of his own beer. "No, really. I don't really know what to do with a drunken person. Especially not a drunken girl." He grins. "Well. I know /one/ thing to do with a drunken girl, but that's not appropriate here." Blushing, he clears his throat again, and stands up, and grabs some empty cans to take into the kitchen. "Besides. Not many of these left."

At the moment, it take Bernie a little longer than usual to parse that, but after a second or so she blushes, catching it. That entire section of the remark gets ignored, as she replies, "...shouldn' be. 'cause, I had..." she glances at her can, "...four, an' you had," a longer pause as she tries to remember and count them, "...sixish? So tha's somewhere 'round 10 anyway..." Elementary math, not yet beyond her reach!

Cameron enters the living room again, looking a little annoyed at himself, and totally clear-headed. "Yeah, well, I needed the practice. Clearin' my head, and all." He scowls. "Great, now that it's taken all the fun outta bein' drunk... I've actually gotta think about /not/ using it... bah." he mumbles and mutters, then comes to stand in front of the couch, looking at Bernie. "Where're you gonna sleep?"

Bernie considers, and finishes off what remains of her Guinness all at once. Possibly not the wisest move. "...Dec'dance, I think. Prolly grab th' bed, 'f no one's in it yet. Yeah."

Cameron tilts his head. "Dec'dance?" He dismisses the idea. "Bed. Always left available for the females for some reason." He shakes his head again, and leans over the couch, examining the state of the little girl who's only had four beers. "Hmmph. You better be as light as you look..." he growls, and starts to pick her up.

Bernie squeaks, startled at being lifted, and laughs. "Whee... I don' think anyone ever said I looked light b'fore act'ly... I don' think I'm -that- drunk, I c'n prolly walk t' th' Dec'dance, yeah? An' not always for th' females, 'cause, when Matt lived here, he mostly used it, 'cause he was like, senior cub. I think. Yeah."

Cameron grunts, and lifts. A little cheating there, as his shoulders and arms grow slightly larger. He sniffs. "Senior cub? That was Luke until he Rited. And there's no way he slept on the bed when Layne was here. That's /hers/." He smiles as he carries her up the stairs. "You're going to have to explain this Dec'dance to me when you're less drunk, and I'm less tired."

"Yeahbut they were a'ready rited, time I got here, so... yeah..." the Gnawer, to counteract the weird out of balance feeling of moving, puts her arms around Cam's neck and holds on. She also ignores the 'later' bit and attempts an explanation anyway, "an', yeah. 's short for Bohemian Decadence," she says those two words carefully, catching all the syllables, "'s sorta, sorta a joke. 'cause, mostly you gotta sleep on th' floor there. An' th' bohemians, they us'ly don' havva lotta money an' stuff. So, see? Th' flat's dec'dence too. 'cause, y'gotta sleep on th' floor there, too. Well, partly 'cause. 's hard t' 'splain. 's just our joke thing. 's silly." The last bit is a fairly cheerful statement of fact, not a dismissal of it.

Cameron smiles as he continues carrying Bernie up the steps, and murmurs, "You'll have to show me sometime. But for now, lets get you into some normal decadence. A real bed."

Bernie nods cooperatively, and rests her head on the handy shoulder for the moment. "Okay," she agrees, much less babble-y, this time.

Cameron shakes his head, smiling, and shushes. "Get some shut-eye. Pleasant dreams. And when you wake up in the morning... don't think about me, or what you drank last night. Just coffee."

Bernie looks somewhat confused at that, but nods anyway. The combination of alcohol and general exhaustedness from the previous few rather insomniac nights has gotten to a collapse-worthy stage. "...uh huh."

Cameron lowers Bernie gently onto the bed, and starts the complicated process of pulling back the covers while she's lying on top of them. Finally tucking her in, he smiles and smoothes back her hair to kiss the raggie on the forehead. "Sleep tight." he murmurs, and just stands over her for a few moments, an expression of sadness crossing his face. There's something sweet and innocent there... and odds are it won't be for nearly long enough. He sighs, and runs his fingers through his own hair, muttering quietly to himself, and heading downstairs again. As he leaves, he grabs a thick blanket from off his own sleeping mat.

Bernie smiles a little at Cameron, eyes already more than half closed, and pulls one hand out to wriggle her fingers at him as he grabs the blanket. "Nigh'," she calls softly and sleepily after him as he makes his way downstairs.