Matt backs into the flat, carrying a laundry basket of clothes up from the laundromat down the street. He's still wearing his cow slippers.

There is a pleasant smell coming from the oven, and Bernie's at the sink, the sleeves of her shirt pushed up above the elbows as she finishes up the dishes. "Hey," she calls happily, glancing toward the main room at the sound of the door, "that th' last load?"

"Unless someone's stolen the last o' me Adams," Matt replies, pushing the door shut with the left cow. "What's the Jim?" He nods toward the oven while crossing to the sofa. The basket goes on the floor next to him and he begins folding.

Bernie sets the last pot aside, turns off the water, and drains the sink. "Macaroni an' cheese," she replies, "...an' bacon an' salad, but I di'n' do th' bacon yet." She wipes her hands off on a dishtowel, and wanders out of the kitchenette.

Matt's stomach grumbles in response. "Sounds good. Never 'ad it baked, though. 's good, Oi take it?" He begins pulling shirts out of the basket, folding them neatly and setting them on the coffee table.

Bernie nods, perching on the arm of the sofa and helping fold. "I love laundry when it's still warm," she remarks absently, "...an' yeah, macaroni's way better if y'bake it. I mean, like th' Kraft box stuff is a'ight, but this kind's several ordersa magnitude better. 'f y' ask me. Which y'did." She grins, adding a shirt to the pile.

Matt looks up at the Gnawer. "Whot. It's no out of a box?"

"Nope," Bernie replies, "'s not like it's a real complicated recipe. Butter an' flour an' milk an' cheese an' macaroni, plus a li'l sugar, salt, pepper, an' vinegar, 'f y' got 'em." She adds another couple shirts to the pile as she talks.

Matt nods. "Struth," he agrees. "Joost never bovvered, Oi suppose, 'cause ye can get it from a box." Putting another shirt on the table, he picks out a pair of work jeans. "Oi was rabbitin' wif Kaz an' Max t'ovver day..."

"Yeah?" Bernie finds one of the few shirts remaining, and starts folding it. "What 'bout?"

Matt shrugs. "Usual. Pack stuff. Oi...I tentatively took 'er offer, Books. Ta be in Trouble." He looks sheepish, embarrassed. He hurries through the rest of it, as if to get it out before she yells at him. "Oi told 'er it wouldn't stick if you didn't come too, an' if the Park wasn't a specific protectorate and all. So Oi guess if ye want to, we're in."

Bernie pauses in her folding partway through that, glancing at him, but doesn't interrupt. After he's done, she finishes folding the shirt silently, looking thoughtful, sets it down on the pile, and then grins. "...cool," she decides. "'s a'ight, then, that works for me. S'pose we oughta tell 'em that an' make it all official-like, yeah?"

Matt seems surprised. "Um. Sure. You're all roight wif this?" He blushes a little. "Oi mean, Oi doan't want ye ta be rushed on accounta me, neh?"

Bernie shrugs slightly, settling for a pair of pants now the the shirts are done. "Yeah, I'm a'ight with it. I mean, I was only choosin' b'tween th' two options, joinin' Trouble or startin' my own, really, y'know? An' it wasn' for th' sakea bein' Alpha, jus' 'cause I wan'ed t' take carea th' park. An' I know Kaz cares 'bout it an' that she'll listen t' me an' take me serious on it, an' I like 'em all, so why not?"

Matt shrugs, a little slouch of his shoulders. "Not that at all. Oi just didn't wanta be pushin' ye." He looks around the coffee table, then suddenly gets up and heads for the bedroom. He returns with a simple glass ashtray, restaurant style, which he sets on the edge of the table. "Want a snout?" he asks, pulling out his cigarettes.

"Not pushin'," Bernie assures, setting the folded trousers down, "...I was pretty much jus' waitin' for which you d'cided, really, so hey. An'... yeah, sure, thanks."

Matt puts two cigarettes in his mouth and lights them both, then passes one to Bernie. "Well, Oi shook on it wif Kaz, so unless you nixed it, which ye didn't, Oi'm official anyway, but yeah. We should tell 'em." His stomach rumbles again. "So when is this wonnerful dish finished cookin', then? Oi want ta taste it." He smiles.

Bernie grins, taking the cigarette, and glances kitchenward. Unable to see the oven timer, she rises from the sofa arm and wanders over to check properly. "...nice timin'! 'bout ten minutes; time t' make th' bacon." The frying pan is already on the stovetop; she opens the fridge to get the meat.

Matt grins around his cigarette. "It's a knack..." He glances at the wall, sketched on by Max. "If Max is a packmate, she'll 'ave ta come finish this."

"Def'nitely," Bernie agrees, starting the bacon frying. "Can't have th' place albino forever... I still gotta get 'round t' doin' that ceilin', too, come t' thinka it."

Matt closes his eyes and enjoys the smell of bacon cooking. Hmm. "Oi'm glad it's settled, though. Wif th' half moon Moot comin' up."

"Me too," Bernie agrees around the cigarette, both hands busy getting down a couple plates and some silverware. "...though, not 'causea th' moot, 'course. Whatcha gonna do there, anyhow?"

Matt shrugs. "Talk about what's goin' on, disputes, challenges. Not much fer me ta add, yet. Oi'm 'opin' ta arrange ta learn a few gifts and Rites."

Bernie serves the food up and sets the plates on the table, the bowl of salad and silverware following. "Cool. Kaz said she'll teach me th' clothes dedicatin' rite, so that'd be handy an' stuff... whatcha want t' drink?"

Matt abandons his spot on the couch to come to the table, leaving his cigarette in the ashtray.

A good idea; Bernie follows suit before heading back toward the fridge. "Milk, or somethin' less healthy?"

Matt glances at his watch, thinking. "Milk, Oi guess. Wanta 'ventually bo peep."

Bernie pours a couple glasses of milk, and brings them over, sliding into her seat. "Tada! Milk." Conversationally, she adds, "...it does a body good." A quick grin, then, and she starts in on the macaroni.

Matt raises an eyebrow, once again missing an American reference. "S'pose so," he admits, digging into his meal.

Bernie notices, this time. "'s an old slogan. They useta have all these commercials, 'Milk, it does a body good' all th' time on TV an' all." She shrugs, and goes back to eating. Hungry. "Oh, hey," she remarks after a few bites, "did I tell ya I found a new cub?"

Matt looks up. "No. No ye didn't. Brought 'im in ta Signe's? Or th' farm'ouse?"

"Her," Bernie corrects, "an' Signe's. Much closer an' all, an' she's got th' locks all on th' inside so cubs can't get out. Which, whole time I was locked in there, I was like, "...bet that wouldn' go over well with th' Fire Marshall..." She takes a drink of milk before continuing, "Her name's Anneka, an' she's a 'dox. Had her first change there yesterday, didn't freak out too much overall... so far, like her."

Matt perks, smiling with bits of macaroni in his teeth. "'alf moon, ye say? Oi'll 'ave ta meet 'er then. Mebbe take 'er to the moot. Arrange a meetin' for me? Oi've never met Signe, but Oi 'ear she's cast iron."

Bernie nods. "Yeah. I'll do that, sounds good t' me. We only got one Cliath 'dox 'round, an' I dunno 'f he's still 'round or jus' dropped that Walker cub off an' split. Haven' seen him since. An' Signe..." She trails off, and grins. "Well, I wouldn' want her pissed off at me. But I like her an' all." A bite of macaroni, and another quick nod, "...yeah. You should meet th' cub."

Matt gives her a wry look. "Only one cliath philodox around? That is a shame. If Oi see one, Oi'll send 'im yer way."

Bernie thbbts at Matt -- but carefully, since she's been eating. "I meant 'we' as in th' Gnawers, an' y'know it. Kurt. Only ever seen him once. So nyah. I was jus' sayin' how therefore you talkin' t' her'd be all helpful an' stuff." She grins, shaking her head, and teases, "...touchy."

Matt grins. "Just didn't want ye to forget. Rited an all..." He finishes his meal and pronounces it "delicious, Books. We will no longer eat macaroni an' cheese from th' box." He gulps down his milk, and retrieves his cigarette, headed for the bedroom. "Oi'm about ready ta crash. Leave the dishes soakin' or somefin'. We can get 'em in the mornin'."

"Quite sure I couldn' =possibly= forget," Bernie replies dryly, but grinning. "An' thankya kindly. See, def'nitely better..." She stacks the dishes and does, in fact, leave them to soak. The leftovers go into the fridge before she follows Matt to the other room.

Matt undresses perfunctorily, climbing into bed still with the smouldering cigarette in his mouth. When it is nearly finished, he drops the butt into an old coke can. Snuggling close to Bernie for the night.

Bernie actually hangs her shirt up in the closet, on a hanger she must have separated from its fellows in the coat closet, before setting her trousers aside as well and sliding into the nest to cuddle up. "I'll tell Kaz in th' mornin'," she decides, as she gets comfortable. "...G'night, you."

Matt smiles, kissing her lightly. "Night..."