A breeze stirs the pages of a hymnal left open on a pew as the doors open, and Bernie slips inside, expression somewhat thoughtful. She closes the door slowly and quietly behind her, then turns and surveys the church, eyes adjusting ot the dark.

Rotem is laying upon the dias, he turns his head as he feels the breeze. "Oh. Hi Burns."

"Good evening, Smithers," Bernie replies somewhat dryly, and wanders toward the dias, regarding the sprawled ahroun. "You look like you're waitin' t' be sacrificed." She drops casually into the front pew, and studies him silently.

Rotem spreads his arms aside, "You bringing the nails, or is Kaz dropping by later?" he asks softly. "S'matter of time now." he shakes his head.

Bernie stays quiet for a few moments. "All I know," she says, after a moment, "'s what people were sayin'. An' what they were sayin', it sounded like they weren't sure they really knew. So I wanna know, what happened? Your sidea th' story an' all. What's th' deal?"

Rotem shrugs. "I fucked up. Again." he shakes his head softly. "Just got lonely, y'know?" he looks over to her sadly. "I just needed someone t'be with." he sighs again, "I didn't know other tribes took it so seriously.

Matt looks back after he enters. "Wow," he comments. "Doors." He's carrying a plastic to-go sack, probably filled with steaks.

"Pretty sure I told ya that," Bernie replies, "...or implied it, anyhow. So, okay, I get th' why, basically. Parta what I'm tryin' t' ask, though," she blushes slightly, this being territory that tends to make her uncomfortable, "is th' -what-..." She trails off as the doors open, and glances toward them. Her expression brightens considerably, and she breaks into a grin. "Hey! Matt!" she exclaims happily.

Rotem leans back, laying his head back down and sighing, still having his hands extended to the sides. Without looking to Matt he asks. "Got any nails in there?"

"Hey, Books," Matt smiles. To Rotem, he smirks. "No, no nails. Oi doubt ye get ta die fer yer own sins, anyway. So siddown an' listen ta yer elder there."

Rotem shrugs softly, laying back his head and staring at the ceiling.

Bernie is seated in the first pew, nearest Rotem, who's sprawled across the dias, and twisted back to look at the doors. Well, actually, to look at Matt, but since he just came through them... she grins at his comment, and defends the ahroun mildly, "Nah, he was lis'nen', just depressed..." She looks back to Rotem, adding, "Crucifixion's way outta style, anyhow. Be upset for screwin' up, sure, but you're not dead yet... a'ight?"

Rotem shakes his head softly. "Yet. Key word there." he turns his head to look at Bernie, "I don't know what to do. I'm g-good as dead."

Matt frowns, clearly having already had his quota of silly people today. He pulls a styrofoam container out of the bag and tosses it toward Bernie. "So tell 'im ta 'ave some mashed potatoes and get over it! Rotem, What did ye do that's so fookin' bad, anyway?"

Rotem glances at Matt. "Thats just it. Fookin."

Bernie squeaks slightly, startled by the projectile, but manages to catch it, and cracks it open curiously, to see if it is, in fact, mashed potatoes. "You're still 'live so far; you're not gettin' th' axe this time. Y'just can't fuck up again. Lasta last chances..." She looks over at Rotem, "an' I still wanna.. okay, no, act'ly, I really -don't- wanna, but I need t' know what act'ly happened. A'ight?"

Rotem glances over at Matt, then looks at Bernie. He whispers softly. "Later, okay?"

Matt raises an eyebrow. "Oh, doan't mind me...joost makin' a delivery..." He continues toward the basement with his bag.

Rotem remains still, watching Matt, not speaking yet. He looks towards Bernie for a moment, expecting her to say something.

Bernie watches Matt head basementward, and looks a bit torn. She looks back to the other Gnawer, though, and leans forward. "Okay," she says softly, "short an' sweet, tell me th' story. I don't want or need a lotta detail, but I gotta know th' important points, a'ight?"

Rotem sighs, looking to Bernie. "What do y-you want to know?" he looks to her eyes, "What's the important part?"

Bernie sighs herself, eyes flashing briefly with annoyance. The moon is still fairly big. "Tell me what happened. B'fore I run outta patience too. Clear enough yet?"

Rotem shakes his head slightly. "Look, its k-kinda embarassing, okay?" he sits upright now, pulling his legs in to his chest. "I d-don't want to talk about it."

Bernie regards the cub a moment, and shakes her head. "Fine," she replies, standing, and picking up the styrofoam container. "Y'don't want my help, I got plenny else t' do anyhow. G'luck." She heads toward the basement door.

Rotem sighs softly, moving to his feet. "No, wait. Please." he shakes his head. "I'll tell you about it." he relents.

Bernie turns and looks at the other cub, then leans back against the wall, balancing the styrofoam container against her abdomen with both hands. "...a'ight. I don't want any icky details, I got 'nough trouble sleepin' an' all sometimes as it is," there's actually the ghost of a smile there, "I just wanna know th' relevant facts. Why, I got th' basics of. How an' where don't matter much. It's what an' who I'm tryin' t' figure out."

Rotem sighs, leaning on the pew. "Allie, the Strider. And the what.. well.. I just w-wanted to.. you know.. make h-her feel good."

Bernie considers. "I dunno her, I don't think," she says after a moment. "an' honestly, no, I don't know, 'zactly. But, anyway. What happened? Did you, like, kiss her an' get slapped an' she said, or what?" She pauses, and shakes her head slightly. "...act'ly, I guess it doesn't really matter that much..." She looks at him almost sympathetically. "I know it's gotta get lonely here an' all, but you still gotta keep thinkin' with your -brain-, y'know? I'm pretty sure y'didn't know her long 'nough t' be thinkin' with your -heart-, 'spec'ly seein' as seems like y'guessed wrong. Which only leaves one poss'bility, an' you're only gonna get inta trouble that way... so for future ref'rence, yeah, diff'rent tribes see it diff'rent, rangin' from our pointa view t' I bet some who think even havin' immoral thoughts'd be a lit'ny breach. Y'know? So don't go kissin' anyone 'less you're sure they're okay with it. Which goes for kinfolk an' all too. That 'side... whatcha gonna do now? You didn' act'ly -break- th' lit'ny, yeah? An' they d'cided t' give you a last chance. So whatcha gonna do with it?"

Rotem moves to sit down upon the pew, slinking down into it and leaning back. "I don't know. I want t-to behave, but I fuck up anyway." he shakes his head slightly, pulling his legs up onto the pew. "I j-just don't know how to get it r-right."

"...I'll try t' give you some advice, 'f y'want," the ragabash replies, "...I prolly oughta take this down t' th' fridge, though. Y'mind if Matt's here for th' advice part? 'cause, I'm thinkin', it doesn't act'ly take this long t' put th' steaks in th' fridge." She pauses, and adds, "...anyway, he's good at behavin', too."

Rotem shakes his head. "I'd rather he w-wasn't. This is kinda.. you know." he motions to Bernie as he speaks. "Private. I mean, well, nevermind."

Bernie blinks once. "I don't see how come. I mean, th' other bit, yeah, I get wantin' that kinda private an' all, but th' next bit i'n't embarrassin' or anythin'. Just basic advice." She puts a hand on the basement door.

Rotem shrugs and remains seated. "Okay." he sighs, looking away again.

Bernie nods slightly, and heads down the stairs.

[Forgotten Church Basement]

Bernie comes down the stairs, remaining styrofoam container reclosed and in hand.

Matt turns, as people enter. He looks around for a coffee maker. "Coffee?"

Kaz says, a little vaguely, "Water," and fetches herself some. She looks, perhaps, as if she should go /back/ to napping, sometime soon.

"Matt?" Bernie begins, as she steps into the room, and then notices Kaz, "Heya, Kaz. I di'n' know y'were down here. How goes?" She heads to the fridge, and opens it, sliding the container inside.

Kaz seems to consider this question for some time. "Well, I ain't /dead/ yet," she finally decides.

Bernie bumps the fridge door closed with her hip, glancing back over to the metis. "Beats th' alternative," she replies, "'s wrong?"

Kaz considers again. "I think," she eventually decides, "That I'm nervous."

Matt frowns. "Nervous? 'bout whot?" He abandons the coffee, which he was making to keep himself busy.

Kaz explains, "Sewers," and drinks her water down. "Ain't no big thing. It's just, I ain't what I think of as an Alpha, an' now I am. Not a big thing."

"Not up to date, Oi am," Matt admits. "Whot about the sewers, then? Going down, eh?"

Bernie grins, and leans against the counter a bit, somewhat near the abandoned coffee-making. "You runnin' th' sewers thing?"

Kaz shakes her head. "Not runnin'. Jus', in charge've one've the groups goin' in. Scoutin'," she adds, in Matt's direction. "It's just hard to get used to." She shakes her head, thoughfully. "But I oughta go try sleep again, I think."

"Sounds like a hint," Bernie remarks to Matt, then looks back to Kaz. "Anyway, you'll kick ickything ass, assumin' they got asses." She returns her attention to Matt, tilting her head at him a little, "...so y'wanna come upstairs an' help me give Roto-rooter advice on how he c'n be a good li'l cub form now on?"

Matt shrugs. "Sure, if he c'n handle advice of the 'shut-up-an'-siddown' variety." He pushes off from the counter and gestures Bernie to lead.

Kaz heads back into the back room.

"G'night, Kaz!" Bernie calls over her shoulder, and heads back up the stairs, talking to Matt. "...he's pretty much ready t' listen, I think..."

[Forgotten Church]

Rotem is still sitting the the pew, looking down towards the basement.

Bernie emerges from the basement first, and heads back over to the pew she'd earlier occupied, resuming her seat there, and pausing for Matt to follow.

Matt follows, finding a seat nearby, on the far side of Bernie from Rotem. He pulls out his cigarettes, looking around to see if anyone would mind.

Rotem doesn't mind, and doesn't make any comment about the cancer stick. "Welcome back Burns. Thought you'd f-forgotten about me."

Bernie, shock of shocks, doesn't mind. She doesn't even seem to notice. "I'm not sure that's even -possible-," she replies, slightly dry again. "A'ight. So. You wanna behave now, right? So that all your internal organs stay where they b'long? An' you're gonna listen t' us an' not get all bitchy, yeah?"

Rotem nods softly, looking to Bernie, "Cross my heart and hope not to die." he sighs, "Yeah."

Matt lights the cigarette with a flick of his lighter, seen more as a flash of brass than anything, and takes a long draw, exhaling smoke in a thin stream. He raises an eyebrow when Bernie includes him. "We?" he cocks his head. "All roight, then."

Bernie flashes a grin at Matt. "Well, it's not like y'don't know how t' be well-behaved, an' that bein' th' theme of this evenin's symposium..." She looks back to Rotem, watches him briefly, and nods. "A'ight, then," she says, in unconscious echo of the Fianna, "there's a lotta stuff we could go inta an' all, but it all pretty much boils down t' -think-. Think b'fore y'act, think b'fore y'talk."

Rotem sighs softly, looking away. "Y'see, thats the problem. S'hard to think when you got urges, y'know?" he shakes his head softly. "I c-can't help it."

Matt frowns. "Yer /urges/, mate, are exactly why ye've got ta fink. Lives depend on yer ability ta use yer head before yer wanker. Our lives. Yi's life. Kaz's life. Elan's." He pokes each name home with his smoking cigarette. "Fink before ye act, then fink some more. And after that, fink a little, and if it still seems all roight, ask someone if ye should do it."

"An' y' -can- help it," Bernie adds. "...not sayin' it's necessarily -easy-... but nothin's forcin' ya t' mouth off t' anyone, or t' get overly friendly, 'spec'ly with anyone y'hardly know, y'know? Th' things y'gotta do all come from thinkin', an' not from lettin' th' id run wild. Be p'lite, listen, learn what people teach ya, follow th' rules, an' if you're unsure, try t' err on th' sidea caution."

Rotem nods softly, not having much to say on the topic. "I'm trying t-to. Just isn't e-easy." he sighs and looks away from the pair, "But I'll try and do better."

"Do or do not," Bernie shoots back immediately, "there is no try. No try left, anyhow. You're down t' th' wire here. You -can- do it, you just gotta decide you -will-. Not will try. Just will."

Rotem nods softly. "Thanks Yoda." he chuckles, "I'll do it. Or you'll go get the nails. Gotcha."

Matt nods. "Aye. It may not look like it from in 'ere, but we are in a /war./ It's fought in th' streets outside our 'omes and kills people we love right along wif blokes we 'ardly know. There is no room fer half measures. Yer either goin' ta get yer arse on straight, or yer a fookin' liability, waiting ta kill someone else along wif ye." He pulls the cigarette again. "The Bone Gnawers may be a bit soft on ye; they're a bit soft on everyone. That won't stop Echen-rhya, or Hearts-Fury."

"Not -that- soft," Bernie points out, "Yi -did- technic'ly kill 'im. Not that it quite got th' point drilled in." She flashes the other Gnawer cub a bit of a glare. "You -will- do it. Or we -will- get th' nails; probably th' ones on someone's fingers an' better known as claws. I wanna see you get over all this shit an' turn inta an asset an' someone we're all glad t' have 'round. I don' wanna see onea th' elders paintin' th' wall with your blood. But I'd rather see that than you gettin' other people killed, or goin' t' th' dark side, or anya that shit. So you will get your shit together, and you will do it now. An' if you got any questions, you will -ask- an' get def'nite answers. I'll try my best t' answer anythin', for one. Unnerstand?" Her tone has gradually gotten more conversational, if still firm, as she reaches the end of that.

Rotem nods softly. "I understand." he sighs softly. "Just answer me one thing. Where do I pick up a kinfolk?" he asks, blushing furiously. "Know any my age?"

Bernie shrugs, "I dunno... I haven't met manya 'em. Ask N'vada maybe... but y'got more important things t' be focusin' on than that."

Rotem shakes his head softly. "Yeah, focusing. You don't know what its like being a g-guy and trying to focus." he chuckles and then sighs, "But ok. I'll forget it, for now."

Bernie manages to look both annoyed and embarrassed simultaneously, blushing a little. "Maybe not," she retorts, "but I know what it's like bein' a -girl- an' tryin' t' focus." A pause. "Just chill an' focus on keepin' yourself alive. Survival oughta be a stronger drive anyhow."

Rotem chuckles softly and nods. "It is. I'll be sure to remember that."

Bernie nods slightly. "A'ight, then. Good. I'll come by an' check on ya t'marra or th' next day. You jus' make sure t' use your brain, 'kay?" Glancing over to Matt, she comments, "...it's late; I'm dyin'. Dec'dence?"

Matt nods, relieved. "Sounds good. Do yer best, Rotem. Just do yer best."

Rotem nods softly and lays back down on the pew, now that it is vacated. "I'll do better then that, or I'm done for. G'night."

"G'night, Roto-rooter," Bernie replies, not commenting on the rest of the remark, and heads, with Matt, out the church doors.