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 A variety of out-of-date magazines are strewn atop a low coffee table; more neatly presented are the plethora of books filling the small bookshelves which line the eastern wall.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.
The stairs squeak a little. Slowly. Quite slowly. It takes a bit longer than one would usually expect for the source of the sounds to come into view -- Bernie, picking her way down to the first floor. She looks, to be honest, a bit fragile, but at least she doesn't look as though death would be preferable.
Cameron pivots and turns from exasperated into concerned, and a little guilty. "You ok?" he asks gently. "I've got the kettle boiling. How do you take your coffee?"
Bernie reaches up with both hands, pulling her curls back from her face and into a ponytail. Of course, the second she lets go, they bounce back almost to where they began. It's evident that she's washed her face; what little makeup she usually wears is gone, and the cold water has helped her wake up a bit. Still, she sounds a bit drowsy as she replies, stepping off that last stair, "Um. Coffee. Hot, with lotsa milk an' sugar, us'ly... G'morning..."
Cameron nods and doesn't say anything - just brews the cup, the kettle boiled. His mouth twists a bit, and as he stalks over to her with the mug in hand, he enquires quietly, "How're ya feelin'?"
This requires a moment of introspection. "Still kinda tired," Bernie replies, "and my head's been less painful. But overall not too terrible, I s'pose." She accepts the cup, taking sip, and nodding onces in approval. "Thanks. An' how's you this mornin'?"
Cameron rubs his face a little guiltily as he hands the mug over. "Er... better than you. Sorry. I shouldn'ta let you drink that much. Shoulda remembered that smaller people don't handle drink so well. And women even less." He shrugs. "Didn't sleep much, though, so not /too/ much better." He smiles weakly, still plainly guilt-ridden.
Bernie shrugs back, looking relatively cheerful, considering. "No harm, no foul," she replies, "y'didn' let me get -that- drunk, anyhow. An' you were nice an' all." She gives him a quick smile, then sips some more coffee, eyes the nearest chair a moment, and steps over to sit down in it. "...anyhow, I never got drunk b'fore, an' I've drunk up t' three atta time b'fore... though, maybe slower. An' I didn' eat much yesterday. An' I was really tired. So, y'know. Point bein', don't feel bad 'bout it or anythin', a'ight?"
Cameron runs his hand through his hair and nods. "Yeah. No worries. Uhm, you should perhaps have something to eat, too." He suddenly busies himself looking through the fridge. He quickly dismisses half a dozen different greasy meats, and toys with the idea of eggs, picking one up and tossing it lightly in the air a few times.
Bernie pulls herself up from the chair with just the hint of a wince, otherwise well suppressed, and follows into the kitchen, reseating herself at the table, mug in hand. "C'n you juggle?" she asks, watching the tossing of the egg.
Cameron catches the egg once in his hand, then looks down at it. He looks at Bernie, then back to the egg. Looking back up at Bernie he says firmly, "No." Turning to pull another four eggs from the fridge, he adds, "Not with eggs anyway."
Bernie grins quite nicely for a moment, at that, and returns to quietly working on her coffee. "Too bad," she remarks a bit later, seeming almost an afterthought.
Finding a frypan and smearing it with butter, Cameron looks once more at the eggs sitting on the counter. "No." he repeats, with a slightly worried expression on his face.
Bernie grins again, and rubs her forehead lightly a moment, taking another gulp of coffee.
Cameron casts a considering look at the eggs once more as he turns up the heat on the stove, then shakes his head dismissively and cracks one into the frypan.
Bernie giggles a little, and sits back in her chair a little, relaxing. She sighs, half a yawn, really, and sets the mug down, stretching a bit. "So," she asks, "..'s new with you?"
Cameron laughs softly. "Since last night?" He cracks another couple of eggs into the frypan. "Nothing. I haven't been ambulatory for long. Just awake."
"Well," Bernie amends, "not necessarily since last night. You didn't tell me what was new then, either." She sips her coffee again, thinking about the previous evening, as a whole.
Still eyeing the last egg, Cameron shrugs and cracks it into the pan. He starts whisking away at the eggs, then slowly starts adding milk and salt. "Yeah, well. You get that. Changed my mind about what we're having here. Scrambled, sorry. And plain, at that." He casts an appraising look at the other cub. "But I figure, you're stomach'll appreciate it more than fried."
Bernie nods a bit, watching the process of cooking from her seat at the table as she sips her coffee. "Mmm. Scrambled's good. Not real picky." A quick grin, "...I think it's 'gainst th' rules. An' you're still not answerin' what's new. Man, an' you thought -I- was bein' evasive." She shakes her head -- gently -- smiling a little.
Steven is whistling some kind of tune as he comes inside the house from the cold outdoors.
Tecmessa comes in from the back door, into the kitchen, finding water before finding people. Her pants are dusty, and she seems, though cold, to be fairly energetic.
Cameron blinks at the new arrivals, and gives Bernie a wink. "Maybe." Flourishing the whisk, he greets them, "Morning. I'm making scrambled eggs. There's enough for two here. Should I add more eggs?"
Bernie looks up at the arrivals, and smiles, albeit a tad more weakly than her usual grin. She seems perhaps a tad under the weather, and she's holding her mug of coffee in both hands, nursing it slowly while the other cub cooks. "Mornin'," she greets them.
"No thanks," the fostern replies. "I'm pretty good. Just need to find the hair of the dog, you know."
Tecmessa shakes her head, full glass in hand. "Morning. No thank you, I had some earlier. I got up early, to greet the dawn." She brightens upon seeing Steven. "Hallo. Got a question for you, if you have a second."
Cameron laughs and gestures at Bernie. "I'd say join the club..." He turns back to his eggs, and adds a little more milk.
Steven grins pleasantly at the philodox Fury. "I always have time for pretty women. What do you need?"
"Oooh," Bernie responds, "do we get membership buttons and a secret handshake?" She widens her eyes slightly, looking innocently hopeful. Fairly well, too.
Tecmessa chuckles quietly, and then asks, "I just was curious -- do you have a Kin in town named Aidan?"
Steven nods. "Aidan Riley, I think. He's a cop. One of his brother's is an adren ahroun in Boston."
Tecmessa blinks faintly. "That would make sense. Do you know what he does, on the force?"
Cameron pales a little, and loses some cheer. Name sounds familiar.
Bernie doesn't recognize the name at all, and just continues sipping her precious, life-giving coffee, and awaiting the fabled eggs.
Steven gives a shrug. "He's a beat cop, I think. Why?"
Cameron whisks the eggs thoroughly, then turns up the heat on the stove. A scowl is starting to develop.
Tecmessa narrows her eyes slightly. "Wonder what beat. May have to talk to him, or get my packmates to. In any case, your tribe, you may wish to... Provide him with aid, sometime in the future, as if he is who I think he is, the Russian Mafia may soon come to have words with him." She glances ruefully at Cameron and then back. "They appear to have a list which they are checking twice."
Steven looks at Tecmessa skeptically. "What are you talking about?"
Cameron murmurs, "Don't give a fuck who's naughty or nice..." under his breath.
Bernie listens silently, pushing her curls back behind her ear. As usual, they creep back out as soon as she isn't looking.
Tecmessa explains, "There is a Get pack, working to destroy a nest of drug dealers. It turns out these are drug dealers connected to the Wyrm, and indeed, to the Russian Mafia. They found a list, while clearing out a sex club, of names. Some of which were crossed out, some of which were not. Several of the names that were not crossed out -- the majority -- are Kin to the Garou. A Get Kin, a Wendigo, your Kin, and my Kin. Therefore. You should, at the least, warm this Kin of yours."
Steven cups his chin. "So he's on a list? What does that mean?"
Cameron stops churning the eggs in the pan long enough to nearly growl. "Chaser came here one night a few weeks back, covered in someone else's blood and green goo. She was claiming a need to get out of the city because of the /sick shit/ she'd seen going down."
"I am not sure." Tecmessa glances at Cameron, and nods. Looking back, she adds, "The Wendigo Kin, she is a lawyer. Dru, my Kin, she is head of WWNP. Your kin, he is a cop. It seems they are trying to do... Something. I am not sure what." she shrugs, with a faint smile. "This is a process of investigation, after all."
Steven nods at the Black Fury. "Then it sounds like something Chiapack should look into. Why don't you talk to Megan about Aidan. She's sweet on him anyway, so I imagine she'd be interested in people threatening him."
"Chiaroscuro," Tec says, without a flicker of admonition, "Will indeed be investigating. And I shall speak with Megan, yes. I merely thought a general heads up would be of use. My thanks for the information, at the least."
Bernie winces a little at Cameron's comment, trying to imagine what sort of things would make Chaser that disturbed, and decides she wishes she hasn't tried. She drains the rest of her coffee, pushing the cup away.
Steven glances toward Cameron, then at Bernie. "Hey. No one offered coffee," he complains, softly. Then, looking back at Tecmessa again he says, "Hey, I have a question for you."
Tecmessa takes a drink of her water. "Yes?"
Steven says "You know J.D., Get galliard?"
Tecmessa hesitates. "N -- Yes, a little. Not terrifically well, but we have had interesting conversations. Why?"
Steven shrugs. "I'm trying to get her to join up with Final Strike. But, you know, maybe she won't fit in. Basically, I'm giving you a heads up that she's looking for a place to belong. A direction, as it were. I figure maybe Chiapack could use a competent galliard and a good fighter."
Cameron churns up the eggs some more then turns the heat down and shifts the frypan. Grunting, he finds two clean plates and slaps the eggs onto them. The cub takes a forkful from his plate and tries it. He shrugs. A few deep breaths, and he sprinkles some salt over his, and puts the shaker, a fork and a plate in front of Bernie. "There. Nice and fr-fluffy." he mutters. Standing, he rubs his face, and looks at Steven, grabbing a mug and gesturing to the kettle with it.
"Black," the elder Fianna replies. "Like my soul," he adds, whimsically amused.
Tecmessa considers that. "I... Will speak with Megan about that. I'm not entirely sure she would fit, but then, I'm not sure she /wouldn't/. Thank you."
Steven nods at the halfmoon. "What's new in Furyland?"
Cameron lets a corner of his mouth turn up, and waits for the water to boil, shovelling a few forkfuls of egg into his mouth.
Tecmessa considers. "Helen passed her Rite. Katina may well decide to stay, and become both a member of the Sept and Elder..." She trails off, thinking. "Not much else, just now."
Steven frowns thoughtfully. "Halfmoon question, then. Say there's someone out there you really care about, and she is viciously attacked, raped and left for dead. Think anyone'd mine if I added a little chlorine to the gene pool?"
Tecmessa pauses, chewing her lip. "Myself, I try not to attack and kill those not of the Wyrm; I try to leave them to human justice. It is not particularly /easy/, I will admit, and most of my tribe do not agree with me."
Steven frowns more heavily. "What if the attacker did it in crinos?"
Cameron bites back a snarl, and concentrates on making coffee. Yes. Coffee. Concentrate.
Bernie thanks Cameron quietly, and shakes a bit of salt on her eggs. She eats a few bites, and gives him an appreciative smile, though it fades at the conversation, which she starts paying more attention to instead of eating.
Tecmessa stiffens slightly. "Then I would challenge his poor miserable hide and take large strips out of it." She says this remarkably calmly.
Steven stands abruptly. He heads over toward Cameron, tells him, "I'll come back in a while for it. Thanks." He nods curtly toward the two women, and exits brooding.
Cameron grits his teeth, and mutters, "I'll leave it next to the microwave, then." with a smile.
Tecmessa stares into her water glass for a moment or three.
Bernie considers a few moments, and goes back to quietly eating the lovely scrambled eggs. The thought of a drink crosses her mind, but that would require getting up again. Not worth it.
It's like telepathy. Or perhaps a deep sympathy for anyone with a hang-over. Either way, Cameron stares at the freshly boiled water in the kettle, and grumbles, "Anyone else want a drink?" He tilts his head and adds more gently to Bernie, "More coffee, Bern?"
Tecmessa shakes her head, swigs her water, and puts it into the sink. "Your pardons. I shall leave you to your respective recoveries. Have a good morning, yes?"
Cameron nods at the Fury. "Yeah. Later, Tecmessa-Rhya. Have a nice day, and everything."
Bernie glances up at the Fianna, startled. "Yes, please," she replies, and waves weakly to Tecmessa, "Seeya later... you too, an' all."
Tecmessa smiles just faintly, and heads out.
Cameron wastes little time in stirring up a second cup just like Bernie's first for her, and then pours out some hot water for himself.
Bernie sighs a little, after the door closes, and shakes her head, still eating her eggs, but looking rather glum.
Cameron twirls a fork in the air lightly after stuffing its load into his mouth. "Cheer up. They're not /that/ bad. I can get you sauce." He murmurs to Bernie, rather preoccupied, himself.
Bernie laughs a bit, at that. "It's the sauce that got me into this, innit?" She smles at him, and adds, "an' they're fine how they are, honest. Good eggs. Def'nitely."
Cameron scrapes the last of his eggs off his plate, then whisks it off the counter and into the sink. "Ah. Thank you." He eyes the frying pan, and tosses that into the sink too, filling it with hot water and letting it soak. "Well great. One of my kin's on the list too. I knew the name sounded familiar." He sounds a little dried out, though, as if it's not really a problem.
Bernie isn't quite done, since she keeps stopping to talk or listen, but she's getting there. She takes one of the last few bites of the eggs. "I dunno a whole lot 'bout this mafia thing, but people're gonna be watchin' out for th' listed people, right?"
Cameron emits an animal growl. "They'd fucking /better/."
Bernie is slightly taken aback by that, and finishes the next couple bites before replying. Of course, she rarely seems to talk with her mouth full anyway. "I'm sure they will," she says once she's swallowed, "I mean, kin are 'mportant an' all. So, yeah." With that, she scoops up the last bite of breakfast, and eats it.
Cameron's shoulders sag a little, and he scrubs away at the frying pan. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be snappy."
Eamon grins and waves to Bernie and Cameron. "Hey, what's up, kids?"
Cameron starts slightly, but recovers quickly, lifting the pan with a smile. "Breakfast. You just missed it."
Bernie lifts a hand and waves back to Eamon, flashing him a quick smile in return. "Hey," she greets him, and takes a breath, steeling herself to attempt standing and bringing her empty plate over to the sink. She looks a tad wobbly for a moment, but succeeds.
Eamon says "S'alright, I ate. You okay there, Bernie?"
Cameron turns with a look of concern on his face. "She had a little to drink last night." he murmurs to Eamon. "Hey Bern, maybe you should finish your coffee and rest a little while longer?"
Eamon smirks. "Uh-oh. You didn't try to out-drink Cam here, didja?"
Cameron shrugs a little guiltily. "I /did/ offer her a can or two more than I should have, maybe. But I was way ahead to start with." He smiles. "I was trying to think clearly all the time, and lo, my head cleared without me actually thinking about it." He shakes the aforementioned head a little. "This is gonna take getting used to."
Bernie looks, at this point, rather amused at Cameron's concern. "'f y'say so, mom," she teases, and returns to her seat. "I'm a'ight," she assures Eamon, pulling her coffee toward her, "an' no, not even close. Maybe 'round half his quota, p'raps."
Eamon says "Heh. Hey Cam, have you seen any theurges about your other gift?"
Cameron shrugs at Eamon. "No Fianna." he replies. "Am I allowed to ask other tribes?"
Eamon shakes his head. "No, better not. You should only learn that stuff from your own tribe. I'll try to find Duncan or Luke, see if they can come teach you somethin'."
Bernie grins a little, going back to sipping her coffee, and letting the Fianna chat for the time being.
Eamon hmms. "Actually, now that I think about it, Luke's not in town, he had to go do something. So I'll find Duncan."
Bernie arches a brow slightly, and eyes Cameron for a moment. "Y'all -do- run off all th' time, don'tcha?" she comments, a bit dryly.
Eamon glances at Bernie. "Hmm?"
Cameron nods at Bernie. He smiles, saying "Must be the wanderlust." and continues washing up. To Eamon, he replies "That'd be good... I haven't seen Luke since I left, and Duncan doesn't stop by too often." He clears his throat. "Anything useful you can teach me when you've got time'd be appreciated, though." He shrugs casually. "And I mean anything."
"Empirical observation," Bernie sort of explains to Eamon, and nods a bit at Cameron's reply, going back to sipping her coffee.
Eamon nods. "You know the Litany, right? Been in the umbra yet?"
Cameron laughs a little. "Nearly know it backwards, but I've only been in the umbra twice."
Eamon says "Okay. Let's see, what else can I teach you?"
Cameron smiles, and nods over at Bernie. "Plate?" As he waits for her to hand it over, he shrugs at Eamon and suggests, "A little shooting practice never hurts."
Bernie looks at Cameron, a bit startled. "I brought it over t'you 'bout when he came in. I dunno, you sure you oughta be let 'round a gun at th' moment?" she teases.
Cameron blinks. "Oh. Never mind..." To cover for himself, he grabs Steven's now-cold mug of coffee and tips that into the sink for washing.
Eamon chuckles. "Yeah, maybe. I guess I could take you to the shooting range."
Cameron sighs, "Oh God, /anything/ to get me out of this damn /house/."
Bernie finishes off her coffee, and stands again, no wobble now, to hand the other cub her now empty mug. "'least you haven't been stuck here long as 'lish was, yet," she comments.
Cameron shrugs. "Yeah, but /she/ was allowed out on the bawn, and in the forest."
"Eventually," Bernie grants, "but for quite a while at first, she was only 'llowed t' be here, th' barn, an' th' barnyard, pretty much. So hey, 'least you're not th' only one, I guess."
Eamon says "Well, you can go out as long as you're supervised."
Cameron finishes washing, and drains the sink. "Yeah, well. Fianna only, right?" He smiles. "Hell. House Arrest ain't so bad, I guess. Beats running around looking for someone to take me out." He smiles again, then narrows his eyes. "Hey... am I ever going to get taken 'on patrol'?"
Eamon shrugs. "I don't see why not. Not by yourself, though, of course."
Cameron blinks. "You mean... yes? I mean..." He looks a little taken aback, preparing himself for some kind of excuse. "Oh. Okay. I see. Well. First I'd have to know what 'going on patrol' /is/, I guess... heh. Well, well, well." He shakes his head.
Eamon says "Well, it means patrolling the bawn, making sure nothing nasty gets through the defenses, reporting anything unusual, that sort of thing."
Bernie laughs, and leans over to give Cameron a short, friendly hug. "Thanks," she says, "for breakfast an' all. Think I'm gonna try an' head back inta th' city, now, though. G'luck with shootin' an' patrollin' an' all, a'ight?" She grins, and starts toward the living room, where her jacket and backpack still wait.
Cameron hugs back trying not to use his soapy, wet hands, and smiles as she leaves. "Later, Bern." he calls over to her. "Thanks." Looking back at Eamon, Cameron grins wryly. "Apparently it gets a bit... 'exciting' in the city."
Bernie favours Eamon with a wave and a smile as well, before collecting the rest of her things, slipping them on, and disappearing out the front door.
Bernie emerges from the front door, wincing slightly in the light of the sun, rather stronger out here than it had been inside. She lets the screen door fall shut behind her, and only twitches a tiny bit at the clatter it makes when it hits.
Kaz is, currently, rubbing her face as she perches on the railing, hay strewn liberally through her hair. She starts at the clatter herself, just because she wasn't expecting it. "Sheeyit, an' hello t'you."
Bernie gives Kaz a slightly sheepish grin, still squinting a bit in the light. "Mornin'," she greets the Galliard, "...or I guess maybe technic'ly 's afternoon now, huh?"
Kaz glances at the sun. "The hell, I guess I fuckin' needed /that/, huh?"
"Guess so," the cub agrees, "know I did. Prolly coulda used s'more, act'ly, but oh well. Better'n th' last couple days, so hey." She runs a hand through her curls, seperating them, and looks around, as if expecting spies around any corner. "...you gotta minute, by th' way?" she queries, "wan'ed t' talk t' ya 'bout somethin', but there were lotsa people 'round all last night..."
Leda, not a spy, but indeed another person, climbs up onto the porch.
"Only thing I'm doin' right now is tryinna wake up enough to drive. So, well, shoot." The metis stops, though, when she spots Leda. "Well, heya."
Leda looks the two Gnawers over. "You two look like crap." She pauses, "Even for Gnawers."
"I dunno," Bernie comments with a quick grin, the fact of finally finding the person she'd been looking for effectively cancelling out her frustration at the timing, "I think I oughta take umbrage. I mean, okay, Miss America I'm not, but... heya. How goes? I was lookin' for ya, last couple days, you're elusive, y'know that?"
Leda leans on the porch. "I'll take that as a compliment to Bandit. What did you need?"
Kaz mutters, "Good thing I ain't a fashion model," and leans back against the railing a bit more.
Bernie leans back against the doorjamb as she replies, "Well, see, Tecmessa said I oughta talk t' ya..." she pauses, glancing from one Cliath to the other, "...'s okay t' talk 'bout whatever on th' porch, right? Don't hafta, like, head inside for sorta classified stuff?"
Kaz glances around. "Looks fine t'me, just now..."
Leda nods in agreement, also glancing around.
"A'ight," Bernie nods, given that affirmation, "'kay, well. Tecmessa an' Dr. Nicholson an' I were here th' other night talkin' 'bout th' whole bone thing, which your pack's takin' care of, yeah? An' so there was this suggestion, that onea th' things that'd be good'd be havin' some other weird shit goin' on, like UFO sightin's an' Elvis showin' up in th' mold in someone's veg'table drawer, t' distract an' discredit th' weirdos who're prolly gonna show up t' check out th' whole bigfoot rumour. An' Tecmessa said, why didn' I sorta take chargea that, 'least 'til someone else took it 'way, an' t' talk t' you 'bout th' whole thing. Which is pretty much what I just did."
Leda blinks, taking some time to translate Bernie's words from Gnawerspeak to English. "Okay. But I'd worry, a bit, about the Veil. And..." she glances at Kaz. "You are a cub."
Kaz shrugs. "Veil? The fuck'd this be a Veil problem? It'd be stickin' stuff around so's t'/protect/ it. Draw attention off us. An' me? Shit cubs can do, that don't put 'em in danger, I'm all for it. An' this is shit they can do that don't put 'em in danger."
"I am," Bernie agrees, and then grins at Kaz, "'least I was last time I checked. Supposedly 'f that changed, I'd know, but hey, gotta stay on your toes.." She trails off, nodding to Kaz's comment, "Yeah, that's th' idea, anyhow. T' make people look at -other- shit we set up t' distract 'em from us."
Leda furrows her brow, the expression on her face basically unreadable. "Well. If it's okay with Kaz. I suppose that's fine to do it."
Kaz gives the woman a curious look. "What's your deal, here, Leda? You seem kinda, um, not really happy 'bout the idea. Is it just the cub thing?"
"Partially," the ahroun admits. "I wouldn't let my cubs wander free and interact with humans. But mostly because I'm not really sure how it's going to help. But, I freely admit that I don't understand humans and human culture too well. I've been out of it too long."
The cub herself is quiet for a bit before saying, "Th' idea is, basic'ly, that more weird things happenin' will distract the weirdos from this partic'lar one, an' that normal, sane people'll think, those freaks, nonea that stuff's ever real. Th' one thing that worries -me- at all 'bout it, is that 'f it's all in this area, we might get even more people comin' t' check out this centera weirdness. Now, mosta 'em wouldn't be focusin' on th' so-called Bigfoot matter, then, which is, y'know, a plus, an' th' point, but, yeah, that'd be my one concern on it. Otherwise, I think it makes a lotta sense."
"Spread it out, that's all. But otherwise -- thing is, Leda, this Bigfoot thing, it's gonna attract a /lotta/ morons int' the area, right near /us/." Kaz shrugs. "So gettin' 'em /away/ from us, them an' their cameras an' their newspapers an' their snoopin', it's real necessary."
Leda takes a breath. "Yes, that part I understand. I just wasn't sure how these things would distract them, is all. But I trust Urrah to understand human nature."
"People are weird," Bernie asserts, still leaning against the doorjamb.
Leda nods in agreement. "That's for certain."
"Basically," agrees Kaz, "The Bernmeister has it right. I mean, it won't distract them scientists none, but it'll get the general /public/, an' with Veil shit, that's necessary."
Leda nods once more. "Okay. Just keep me apprised on how it's going."
Bernie nods, "Will do. 'f it works out right, th' news oughta be keepin' you apprised on it too." She grins, rather mischievously.
Kaz just nods, silently.
Leda fails to mention she doesn't read newspapers. She just smiles and nods. "Luna guide you in your task, then."
Kaz mutters, "Yeah, you too."
Bernie nods and smiles back. "Yeah, g'luck with th' resta all this, too..."
Leda heads on into the farmhouse, then, thoughtfully.
Kaz tilts her head at Bernie. "You was sayin'?"
Bernie glances back toward the now closed door, and nods, "I was sayin'." She sighs, and straightens up, wandering over to the rail, "So I was in th' Park, yesterday. An' guess what? Th' damn plywood barricade thing fin'ly rotted out an' parta it fell down. So I went t' see how much plywood costs, an' I think it'd be, like, seven, eight hunnerd dollars t' fix it. Th' -fence-. I'm thinkin' I'll go tell th' city it fell down an' see 'f they put a new one up, 'less you gotta better idea?" She sounds a bit hopeful; little faith in the city's speed of reaction.
Kaz says, promptly, "Brittany. But talk t'the City anyway. But is it /ok/ if I talk t'Brit?"
Bernie bites her lower lip lightly. "I barely even met her. But. I guess, she c'n keep a secret, an' would?"
Kaz snorts. "Given her background, she'd be all into swearin' by Gaia an' her honor and shit, an' yeah, I think she'd keep it. I ain't heard boo about Nev an' Alicia from anyone that didn't know already, f'example. An' she went with me t'talk t'Alicia."
Bernie tilts her head, considering that, and nods. "Yeah, a'ight. ...Yeah. Go 'head. An' when I get back t' town, I'll pop down th' city hall an' talk t' 'em." She pauses, glancing down at herself, "...well, act'ly, I'll shower, change, an' -then- talk to 'em, but, yeah."
Kaz adds, with a small grin, "An' talk t'em on a day that ain't Sunday."
Bernie blinks, glancing out at the world as if it had the day of the week labeled on it. "Well, shit," she mutters, "stop goin' t' school, never know what daya th' week it is anymore. A'ight, then, t'marra. Damn." The humour of it beats out the exasperation, then, and she grins, shaking her head.
Kaz grins, hops off the railing, nudges her on the shoulder, and adds, "Wanna ride?"