Bernie dries and puts away the last of the dishes, closes the cupboard, drains the sink, and wipes her hands off on a towel before wandering into the living room as she rolls her sleeves back down.

Matt steps out of the shower in a cloud of steam, wearing a towel, and heads for the bedroom. He seems happier to be off work and clean, whistling the theme from Faulty Towers.

Bernie grins a little and heads for the bedroom as well, following quietly. When she reaches the bedroom doorway, she leans against the jamb, arms crossed lightly over her abdomen.

Matt pulls on a pair of jeans, a pair that has seen better days. "Oi've /got/ ta get a new pair o' dedicated adams." He mutters.

"'s too bad y' can't dedicate an' undedicate diff'rent outfits ev'ryday or anythin'," Bernie remarks, alternating between watching and attempting not to, "be handy, y'know? Every time I wear anythin' but my dedicated stuff, I get all worried I'm gonna hafta shift or go umbral an' rip or lose 'em or somethin'. An' hafta go home in my underwear." She smiles a bit.

Matt grins as well. "Least you /wear/ trews. Oi'd be naked, tony ta orchestra."

Bernie giggles, blushing slightly. "Bet you'd get lotsa attention headin' home, 'less y'went in lupus..." She runs a hand through her curls, and adds, a bit teasingly, "...I'm wearin' this t'day anyway, so you'll jus' hafta buy me time t' take it off if we hafta shift..."

Matt nods, waggling his eyebrows. "'ow much time are we talkin' 'ere, exactly...?"

Bernie laughs, the blush gaining a shade. "Dunno, I never timed it... lessee, gotta undo th' boots... maybe a minute, minute anna half? Could be as much as two, but I doubt it..."

Matt pretends to check his (non-existent) watch. "Hmm. /Oi/ 'ave two minutes..."

Bernie grins, tilting her head at Matt as she pushes up straight from where she's leaning and saunters a bit closer to him. "You suggestin' I check, for future ref'rence?"

Matt fidgets, rewetting his lips because his mouth has suddenly gone dry. "Oi could...ah...time ye, see. So you'll know..."

Bernie considers a moment, pushing a curl back behind her ear as she regards him. This time is no different than the others; it's popped back out within moments. "Sounds like maybe a wise idea. Y'know. T'be prepared..." One hand moves up to fiddle lightly with the highest fastened button of her shirt, but not actually undo it. "...'course, that'd mean we'd hafta put off me takin' ya t' see th' cub a bit..."

"Th' cub?" He asks, not looking her in the eye, but focused rather on that button. He shakes himself from the reverie, however. "Roight! The cub. At Signe's?" He grabs a shirt, reluctantly accepting the distraction.

"Yeah," Bernie replies, looking as if she really can't decide whether to be relieved or disappointed, "at Signe's..." She steps in closer before he can actually put the shirt on, laying a hand on his shoulder and leaning in to give him an unusually tentative kiss.

Matt kisses back, pulling the shirt over both their heads, trapping Bernie inside. His kiss is less tentative, coy.

The capture by shirt makes Bernie giggle, and she rejoins the kiss more surely, stepping in to press closely against him, a hand on each shoulder.

Matt can't wrap his arms about her, tangled as they are in his shirt, but enjoys the kiss. He lifts the shirt up, allowing her to escape, if she really wants to.

The kiss continues long enough after she's freed to make it quite clear that escape really isn't on her mind, but after a little she does pull away, with a little sigh. "We prolly better go, 'fore they release her or somethin' an' we never see her 'gain..." Bernie says quietly. Her hands brush down his chest as she steps reluctantly away.

Matt is reluctant as well, pulling on his shirt with a sigh. "Aye. At this rate, she'll be Rited before we get there...."

Bernie nods, pushing her hands into her pants pockets and fidgeting a little. "...well," she says slowly, with a slightly mischievous little smile, "I guess we c'n always come back home after, an' maybe test it out then..." She walks to the couch to retrieve her jacket and backpack, ready to go.

Matt pulls on shoes as well, muttering "Note ta self. Buy a fookin' watch." He grabs his jacket out of the closet, attempting to close the door and, as usual, failing.

[Brownstone -- Basement Apt.]

Anneka stops being distracted for a second or two, eyes straight on Jamethon. She nods. "I'll remember, but-- Oh! How many tribes are there? Lots? I know two, now." She grins.

"No shit? Rock." Nevada grins. "Yeah. You're half moon, then. Means you're ganna be a judge kine'a type. I'm a gibbous moon. Galliard. Means I'm s'post to sing the songs of the heroes an tell the stories of our people, an when you get a few beers in me, I dance on pool tables. Until I get arrested or somin presumably." He hehs. "But Slim Jim, here, he's Theurge, like he says. Crescent moon. He do all sorts a magic mystical shit. Y'don wanna piss this guy off. He can heal wicked too. Thanks about that, by the way, yo. An yeah, there's a damn lot. Thirteen."

There's a knock on the door. Actually, several knocks. In the classic shave-and-a-haircut pattern.

Jamethon looks over Nevada for a moment with a wicked grin then looks back to Anneka. "I know you probably didn't get anything of that... even Nevada's bullshit flattery." he chuckles with that last comment, leaving the door to be opened by someone else.

And a distinctly British sounding snort shortly after.

"Bullshit flattery? From me?" Nevada asks innocently.

Anneka grins, looks back at the two over her shoulder as she darts at the door. "Wooo-- Lots of stuff to know. Cool!" She gets to the door, then skids to a halt. "Ooops. No key."

After a suitable pause, there's the sound of an exaggerated sigh, followed by another pause and then a key in the locks. The bolts flick back, and the door swings open, Bernie letting Matt enter first.

Matt steps into the room tentatively, like a tourist. He looks around, taking in his environment quickly, and stooping his shoulders slighty, unconsciously.

"Bunny, Matt, yo." Nevada grins at them, sitting on the table near the box of hot open pizza. The Galliard looks like a smurf exploded in his general vacinity, having neon blue streaks in his hair, on his face, and on his shirt. "Anneka, this is some cool people. You know Bernie. Guy wit' her is our tribal sugar daddy. You wanna try out the introduction thing kiddo?.. They're our kine."

Anneka glances back at Nevada, then nods and twirls about. Bernie she knows, so she waves, grinning. "Hi! I'm Anneka--" A pause, then. "Cub, Philodox and Bone Gnawer, yup." She looks at Matt, green eyes bright under sandy-hued, curly bangs. It's quite possible she has no idea in the world what a sugar daddy is.

Bernie snorts lightly at Nevada's description of Matt, shaking her head a little as she closes the door behind the pair, seeming to lock it. Perhaps she does have a key, though if so it's mostly hidden in her hand. "Nicely done, Ann'ka. Broughtcha a gift... though y'don't get t' keep him." She gestures toward Matt, flashing him a quick grin, before greeting Jamethon with a simple, "Hey," and turning her attention to Nevada, "...damn, Chia, y'turnin' Fianna? What's with the ersatz woad?"

Matt stops in his tracks, Clouds visibly moving in to darken his expression. Famous celtic temper and all that. "...tribal. Sugar Daddy?"

"Had some trouble wit' a spraycan," Nevada explains with a smirk to Bernie. "Yo, jus' dickin' at ya. You been hella nice to us, man."

Jamethon nods calmly to Matt then Bernie before returning to his soda affectionatly.

Anneka blinks once, sticks a hand out, solemnly to Matt. "I feel kinda silly shakin' hands now, 'cause, well-- introduction! But, hi." She beams, brushes her hair away from her eyes with a free hand. Bare toes poke out from the frayed cuffs of her jeans-- Her boots having met some horrible fate.

Bernie ahhs at Nevada, nodding slightly, and pats Matt's upper back once, lightly, before heading over toward the couch and taking up a position in one of the corners of it. Once settled, she pulls off her backpack and opens the main pocket, rummaging in it a little as she watches the proceedings.

Matt, still scowling, approaches Anneka. Matt Fulton, Philodox Cliath o' th' =Fianna.= Very pleased ta make yer acquaintance." Then he turns on Nevada, stepping right into his comfort zone to growl at him. "Look. Two important fings ta remember, /packmate./ Oi'm not a ragabash, an Oi'm =not= a Gnawer. Oi go out o' my way ta save yer tribe some trouble, Oi deserve ta 'ave that gift respected. No 'dickin'. Clear? It reminds me of Rotem, an' you doan't want ta be on th' same short list as that right wanker, eh?" He steps back, exhaling and putting on a smile. "So, Nevada. Nice ta lay minces on ye. Whot 'appened wif the spraycan then? Readin' the label?"

Anneka furrows her brow, slightly, tilts her head. All in all an 'I just learned something interesting' expression for those who catch it, before she turns about and watches Nevada and Matt.

Jamethon applauds the outburst with gusto. "Hey, why don't ya just challenge him already. Its the Garou thing to do. Either way, I'm bolting for some woodsier climes for a while, probably a week or so on the bawn will do me some good."

Nevada takes it with an amused grin. "Woah, woah, woah. I don't know who pissed in ya corn flakes, but chill, huh? I respect what you do f'us. S'why I'm teasin' with you. I'd like to think you could take some teasin, bein' around Gnawers so much. Hell. /Packin/ wit 'em. Lighten the hell up man." His eyes flick to the Get. "See ya 'round, Slim Jim. Keep the door open awhile won'tya? I gotta get my ass Rialto-wards."

Anneka blinks twice, waves to Jamethon, then flashes a huge grin at Nevada as well. "Hey-- Bye!" A pause, then. "What's the Rialto?"

Bernie is distracted both from keeping an eye on her packmates and fiddling with her backpack by the exiting, lifting a hand to wave a bit to the fleeing Get. She leans back into the cushions and pulls a bag of ranch Doritos from her bag, tossing it to the cub, "Heads up."

The girl perks up and turns around, hair whirling about to obscure her eyes, but she catches the bag neatly enough, in both hands. She brushes the hair out of her eyes and looks down at the bag. "Thanks!" If she had a tail at the moment, it'd be wagging a bit, sure enough. Anneka looks up at Bernie. "Jamethon knows, like, kung-fu or somethin'. He kicked the punchin' bag." Then she's tearing the bag open.

Matt's mouth tightens into a thin line. "Oi /am/ lightened up. Compare ta say, Steven." Good mood destroyed, he casts about for a part of the couch to sulk on.

"Big ass ol' theater. Pack territory. Sorta like our secret headquarters," Nevada imparts to Anneka over his shoulder on his way out. He shoots a grin. "We're kine'a like superheroes 'at. Batman an some shit. But we don't wear no spandex when we fight crime. Mosta us anyways. Chafes, y'know." He drifts to a stop at the doorway, pausing a moment, rolling his eyes before he turns a look back. "I'm sorry 'fy hurtcha feelins, Matt. I'm just a scummy Gnawa. You'll get ova it. Lata, Bunny, Anneka." He wiggles his fingers in a wave before he's gone, door shut behind him.

Bernie gives Matt a rather wry half-smile, and gestures vaguely to the wide expanse of unoccupied couch beside her, in invitation. "...So anyway," she says to the cub, "I figured, you might wanna talk t' an actual other 'dox, 'steada just bein' surrounded by Galliards an' raggies. An' =I= know kung fu, an' karate, an' jiu jitsu, an' aikido, an' a lotta other oriental type words, too." A quick grin, there. "Yi's th' one t' talk to 'f y' want real impressive Jet Li shit."

"I don' think spandex an' fur'd look good," Anneka opines, watching as Nevada strolls out the back door. She flops down on the floor, crosslegged, with the bag of Doritos on her lap and crunches on one. "Mf-- I don'--" Crunch. "Don' know much 'bout fightin'. Not w'fists, anyway. If you're li'l, y'get squished pretty easy." She grins, straightens up a bit. "Yi is quick."

Matt huffs down onto the couch, leaning away from Bernie and everyone for that matter, to put his chin in his hand. "Fook. This is ex-/actly/ whot bovvers me about payin' bird wif yer tribe, Books. Most of 'em treat everyone else like Gnawers, too." A heavy sigh, theen he drags himself into the present conversation. "Oi fink it's important ta learn ta take a hit. Longer yer in the read n' write, more likely yer foe is ta takea clanger."

"Mostly jus' people they like," Bernie replies, apparently leaving it at that as she nods in agreement with the Fianna, "don't worry, Ann'ka. You'll learn how... whether y'wanna or not." Her grin returns, there. "An' yeah, Yi is. Ask her an' maybe she'll help y'learn somea her waya fightin'. Y'know?"

Anneka glances at Bernie, then curls her bare and dirty toes, poking out from beneath the cuffs of her jeans. She nods, darts a hand up to brush her hair from her eyes. There's a moment of the ache that was in them the night before, towards the end of the Litany, but then it's gone and she's smiling again. "Yeah, 'guess. Guess there's stuff y'gotta fight like that." She pauses then, smiles at Matt. "'Cause if you're careful, 'ven'chally th'other one's not?"

Matt nods. "Exactly. When 'e steps in it, ye take 'im, arse over tits, an bob's yer uncle it's over." He smiles, a little, still out of sorts. Sugar Daddy indeed.

"Nah, Bob's my =brother=," Bernie says a bit teasingly, flashing a quick smile to Matt, "I thought we cleared that up already." She leans back in the cushions again, getting comfortable.

Anneka leans over slightly, hair tumbling down over her shoulder in crazy, tangled curls. Then, she straightens up a bit, furrows her brow. "I guess I think fightin's dif'frent. Like sparrin' w'skaters, an' you're all doin' crazy stuff, like scrapin' railin's all fake'n stuff, or goin' t'some flatland y'don' know 'n th'dark and bargin' 'round." She squints. "Jus' bein' crazy 'n showin' off, not really takin' fists out."

Anneka perks up. "That's why I got a flashlight, 'cause once Beck went skatin' in some sewer pipes an' he didn' come back. Foosh." She looks grave.

"Crazy is a legit style, Anneka. 'm fond of it, mesel'." At her mention of the sewers he blanches a little. "Ouch. Sorry. Sewers aren't a 'ealthy place, not at all."

"'specially not 'round here. S'ggest y' stay outta 'em," Bernie agrees. "...def'nitely 'til y'got s'more practice wailin' on things, at least." She reaches down, absently, and rubs her right calf through her pants.

"Yeah, 'cause after Jeff-- He's my best friend, kinda-- He was out curbin' on a buncha pipes, like right there, an' he said that he could hear Beck talkin' and stuff, but it was really weird an'--" The girl pauses as something dawns on her, eyes getting big. "Huh. W'never went back, 'cause, that was all pants. Th'whole run."

An almost-evil half smile takes over Matt's face. "Y'know, Oi'm in a bit of a mood, if ye want ta...practice. Oi can try ta answer the questions ye surely 'ave 'bout yer auspice."

Anneka sits up. "Yeah! 'Cause I do-- 'bout my auspice."

Bernie grins to herself and does a creditable job of being unobtrusive, this having been the point of dragging Matt here, after all. She pulls a little notebook from her backpack and flips it open, idly scribbling, or perhaps doodling, on the revealed page.

Matt stands up, taking off his jacket. He also removes his belt and kicks off his shoes, looking to see if there is a better clear space than the one he's in. He gestures to Anneka to stand as well. "Foine. Land a punch or a kick, Oi'll answer a question. Oi land one, Oi ask you somefin'. Fair?"

Bernie pulls her legs up safely on the couch, out of the way of the incipient brawl, and puts the notebook back in her bag. This, she wants to watch.

Anneka sets the bag of chips near the couch and stands, head canted as she looks at Matt. She is, by all accounts, a skinny little kid, but she splays her toes out to grip the floor and watches the Fianna. Her eyes drift out of focus-- She blinks, bringing them back. "Fightin' to ask questions?"

The sounds of someone trotting down the stairs aren't particularly audible, but the jingle of keys in the door (and the dropping of said keys on the ground, once they've unlocked the door, and the subsequent swearing) is quite audible. Eventually, it becomes clear that this is Kaz, as she pushes through the door and then closes it quickly. She's got a paper bag in one hand, her flute case in the other. "Heylo," she says, looking from Fianna to cub and then to Bernie. She seems fairly cheerful.

"Hi, Kaz!" Anneka does not turn her eyes from Matt at all.

Matt pulls his shirt over his head, revealing a web of fine, wire-thin scars from shoulders to waist. "No," he replies. "Fightin' ta learn ta fight. Questions are a bonus, 'cause Oi'm /nice./" His grin shows a lot of teeth.

"Jus' don' break anythin'," Bernie advises mildly, "or Signe'll teach alla us some new ways t' get beaten on, a'ight?" She glances toward the door at the noises, and grins broadly. "Hey, Kazoo! Howzit goin'? Join us, havva seat...." She gestures to the recently vacated bits of couch beside her.

Kaz says, musingly, "I think that was the first thing I tol' you 'bout bein' Garou, Bern, was not t'piss Signe off." She climbs onto the arm of the couch, and hands the ragabash her paper bag. "I'm jus' kinda visitin', but why's Matt strippin' again? I mean, not that I object or nothin'..."

There's a certain amount of incredulity in Anneka's voice. "'Cause he wants t'teach me how to fight. An' if I hit -him-, he answers a question 'bout bein' a 'dox. An' if he hits -me-, I get squished." The last is matter-of-fact in tone. It's not like she's unfamiliar with the routine. She's balanced well enough, and not taking her eyes from Matt at all.

"Oi promise not ta kill ye until ye've had a chance ta learn somefin'." It /sounds/ like a joke. It /should/ be a joke. It just isn't /delivered/ like a joke. Matt begins bouncing on the balls of his bare feet, hands held in front of himself like a boxer.

Bernie grins, shaking her head a little, and opens the bag, peeking into it as she adds, with the merest hint of a blush, "...yeah, what they said. We're jus' lucky on th' shirt thing.... ooh, hey, yum. C'n I have th' Ding Dong or zat for th' cub?" She glances up and toward Kaz for a moment, awaiting the answer, then leans over and murmurs something to her, inaudible to the combatants.

You whisper "Chia pissed him off earlier so he's kina edgy. An' he's a good sparrin' partner an' th' cub oughta get as much practise as possible 'cause I think she's even less 'sperienced in fightin' than I was when I got here, so I figured I'd go 'long with th' idea, y'know? Kill two birds an' all that." to Kaz.

Anneka squints, her eyes just visible through a tangle of curly hair. "Uh-huh," she says, quietly. She takes a step towards Matt, though still well out of reach. The cuffs of her jeans scuff along the floor. Then, she blinks-- Perhaps a thought has run its course. She nods. "Come on."

Kaz leans in to listen, and mutters, "Uh-huh," among a few other things, watching the two carefully.

From afar, Kaz says, a little warily, "What'd Nev do now?"

Bernie pulls the Ding Dong out of the bag, and passes it back and forth between her hands as she quietly says something else to Kaz.

You whisper "Called 'im our "tribal sugar daddy." Matt di'n' 'preciate it." to Kaz.

Kaz mutters, "Jesus Christ on a pogo stick, call /Jarred/ a fuckin'," and goes somewhat more inaudible.
From afar, Kaz mutters, "Call /Jarred/ a fuckin' sugar daddy, not fuckin' Matt. Shit." There's a pause, and then she adds, "Feel free on the Ding Dong."

Matt uses Kaz's outburst as a possible distraction, taking the opportunity to dart in and poke a right jab at Anneka's head. Simple, direct, and fairly fast.

Bernie nods at Kaz. "Yeah," she replies, audibly, with a half-smile, "...an' thanks." She starts unwrapping the snack cake, and takes a bite, watching the beginning of the fight proper. Ahhhh, bread and circuses...

The girl ducks quick, though she remains perched on the balls of her feet-- It's hard to see with the cuffs of her jeans low as they are. Then she plants her hands on the floor, swings her feet around and up-- right where it counts on Matt, if she gets him right. She wouldn't look out of her element with a skateboard attached to those feet, really.

Matt tries to dodge, but isn't quite fast enough to dodge the entire blow. He skitters back a couple of steps, but fails to crumple. His eyes flutter and his face reddens, but Matt remains standing, exhaling. "Good." He groans. "Anovver lesson Oi doan't 'ave ta tell ye. get 'em on th' ground, an' then the kickin' starts." He straightens completely and resumes his stance. "Yer question?"

Bernie winces fairly obviously as the blow lands, even partially. "...eeee," she breathes softly, before taking another bite of the Ding Dong and waiting to hear the question. The cub's acrobatics seem to have impressed her a bit, judging from the expression.

Anneka tucks herself into a messy sort of roll, but ends up on her feet again soon enough and out of arm's reach. She frowns, rubs at an elbow. That sort of trick should have a skateboard attached to it. Her eyes narrow a bit as she watches Matt. Her hair's tousled about everywhere. "Why were you fightin' with Nevada?"

Matt shifts from foot to foot, bobbing distractingly forward, back and around. "Not fightin'. Explainin'. My tribe respects 'ospitality differently than 'is...yours. Oi was...informin' my futute packmate 'ow Oi expect fings ta be in 'at respect."

Anneka's steps shadow the taller man's, keeping her from the crescents his fists could draw in the air. She draws her lips into a thin line-- not a frown, but even. She's gotten a little paler, and a few locks of her hair are stuck to her forehead. "Uh-huh." A pause, then. "Come on."

Kaz grins at Bernie, and gives Anneka an approving sort of glance, before hopping off the couch and heading for the door again. "See you folks later," she mutters, and locks herself out again.

Bernie swallows her last bite of chocolately cake, mouth opening and then shutting again as Kaz darts out so quickly and the door closes behind her. The Ragabash sinks back into the cushions with a rather frustrated sigh.

Matt continues to move, not giving Anneka a solid, predictible target.

Anneka's eyes get a bit bigger, and she scuffs out a crescent on the floor-- a segment of the circle she's been tracing, keeping herself away from Matt. She watches him, her steps spare and sparse, her arms held carefully at her sides, elbows slightly bent. "Come on," she says again.

Matt rolls his eyes. "Why?" He asks. "You're the one wif questions. Whot. You scared o' me? Not loike Oi'm an ahroun." He gives her a 'c'mere' gesture with one hand.

"If you're fightin', y'don't do dumb stuff. You're stronger'n me," the girl says, quietly. "And I hit you first."

Bernie sighs softly and crosses her arms on the arm of the sofa, resting her chin atop them as she watches the defensive sparring.

Matt shrugs. "An' Oi tried ta hit ye first, but if you insist" He fakes left, then charges straight at her, attempting to tackle her and take her to the ground underneath him.

Anneka crouches, held up on the balls of her feet, then darts right-- Matt's left, where he'd faked a moment ago. Right past him if she timed it right, a fist darting out towards his side.

Matt stumbles but keeps his feet. ~Not goin' ta get =any= questions answered, this way, little one.~ He growls.

In english, or Matt's version, anyway: "Question two?"

There's a thud as someone puts down something somewhat heavy, outside, and then the jingle of keys. After a moment, Kaz, along with a large case of Coke, pushes her way back in, putting the Coke down -- not on her feet! -- to relock the doors.

Bernie glances curiously at the sound of the door being opened, and perks up further as Kaz returns. "Hey!" she regreets the Galliard, cheerfully. "...what, no keg?"

Bare feet squeak on the floor, as Anneka scoots to a halt. She's using the cuffs of her jeans to slide on, her feet for brakes. She's not that far off, either, not much more than a few arm's reach, her knees slightly bent. She's growling too, low and quiet and thoroughly inhuman. "What's respect t'Philodox?"

Kaz says, "Too heavy," with a grin, and heads into the fridge to start putting them away.

"Alas," Bernie sighs melodramatically, and grins again. "Y'wanna hand with anya that?" It's not that the fight isn't holding her attention, she'd just temporarily distracted.

"Simple answer: Everyfing." Matt intones, still moving, warily. "You are th' judge, arbiter o' disputes and generally looked to ta settle arguments accordin' ta our ancient Litany. Wifout respect, 'oo will listen to yer judgement? 'oo is going ta follow yer advice? Wifout respect and honor, we are half-ass ahroun, wifout the strength ta back it up." He finishes by closing the distance, blindingly fast--his anger at Nevada glowing like coals in his eyes--to attempt to grapple her and overbear her with his weight into the nearest clear wall.

Kaz listens to Matt while she puts away cans. "Nah, Bern, it's just lil' shit." She's actually done fairly quickly -- half the Cokes in the fridge, half in a cubboard, and crumpling the cardboard up, as she wanders back to the couch, going carefully /around/ the fight, and not /through/ it.

In the first count, Anneka crouches down, brows furrowed, wiry muscles bunching beneath her baggy, oversized jeans. It looks like the same trick as before, the one where she'd swing her legs out in a truncated arc-- But this time all that energy is pointing down, for the second when she jumps up. Higher this time, lots, because she's changing along the way. She's bunched into a ball, before her legs dart out again. Chest-- throat-- maybe even Matt's head. It's not the most elegant leap.

Bernie acknowledges Kaz's reply with a distracted nod, her attention grabbed back by Matt's explanation, and the further action. Whatever she might've been about to say to the Metis is lost for now, as she watches.

Matt ducks under the cub, dropping onto his butt and putting a hand out behind him, but is close enough now to the wall to be able to use it to flip over, turning quickly to face the eleven foot deathbringer in front of him. "Shift. Now. Oi'm not readin' ye--or teachin' ye--in /that/ form, in someone else's pope." He straightens to his feet, standing down, but remaining wary.

The cub in question lands heavy on hands and feet, an elbow, her body a tangled mess of fur and teeth and snapping bone. She's still too new to changing shape, and she's Crinos amidst the tattered bits of her clothes, panting and watching Matt, ears down. She nods her head, hard, then looks down. There's miles of frustration in her lantern eyes, and it takes a long while before she's pulled herself back to her homid form. She's panting still when her eyes are green and her hair is plastered about her head. "Dumb. I can' get mad without--" She growls to herself, almost trips.

Kaz, with a Coke, and finally back to the couch, explains, "That's not dumb, that's instinct," and flops onto it, somewhat near Bernie.

Anneka looks down at bits of her clothes, almost smiles. "Um---"

Kaz mutters, "Fuck," and heads into Signe's bathroom. She comes out with a new set of clothes, which are evidently somewhat large for Anneka, but not excessively so. "Dedication. Now. B'fore y'rip another pair an' gotta wander around in y'bathrobe. OK?"

Bernie laughs, shaking her head slightly. "An' t' think I almost brought more clothes with t'day, too. Oh well..." Kaz's Coke looks really appealing; the ragabash stands and snags one from the kitchen herself.

Matt settles back down onto his heels, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow, unitl Kaz goes for clothes for the cub. "Y'know, Kaz, Oi wouldn't mind learnin' that trick fer mesel'. These adams are gettin' worn, and they're th' only pair Oi can take wif me." He doesn't take his eyes off Anneka--perhaps still wary that the fight isn't over. Still: "Mebbe we should try a more relaxed Q 'n' A, hmm?"

Bernie plops back into her seat, crossing her legs and popping her soda to take a sip. "Good trick t' know, 'f y'ask me..." She gestures vaguely at the empty spots on the couch, offering them up now that she's comfortable and the fight seems to have ceased.

The cub doesn't look like she's in the mood to fight at all, as she glances at Kaz, then wriggles her way into the offered clothes-- Oversized jeans, pale at the knees but whole, a t-shirt a size or so too large with a star on the front. "Instinct's not dumb, guess--" she says, quiet, "--but-- Rr." She shrugs. "Not thinkin'. I stopped thinkin'."

Kaz tells both Bernie and Matt, "Love t'teach you," and then nods at Anneka. "That's actually parta why we're keepin' you here for awhile. You lose control like that when y'skatin', or talkin'a someone on the street... *blam*. Not good. It gets easier, slowly, t'control it. But it's never totally easy."

Matt nods. "The Veil Shall Not be Lifted." He actually pronounces the capitals.

Bernie stretches a little. "Cool," she remarks to Kaz, grinning, and then blinks as something reoccurs to her. "Oh, an' hey," she adds, "'fore I get distracted 'gain, re: pack foo. Matt tol' me he talked t'ya th' other day? An' yeah, like he said. Long's th' Park's 'ficially 'mong the goals an' all, y'got us." The Coke-free hand moves up, sliding through her curls.

Anneka almost flumphs down on the floor, but ends up in a cross-legged heap on the couch instead. She's shaking a little, still, when she leans down, picks up the bag of Doritos she'd left on the floor. The bag crinkles when it's set on her lap, and her head's resting against the back of the couch, but she turns a little to listen.

Kaz, about to nod at Matt, breaks off to give Bernie a very large and very warm grin. "Dude. You rock my world. An' like I tol' him, we're already doin' shit in there anyways, so yeah, it's part've the goods. /Shit/, woman, this should kick five kinds of ass!"

"Six, on Sunday," Bernie replies, grinning back. "Cool beans. So 's all official then? Do we gotta do any, y'know, mystic blood rituals or anythin'?" She glances sidelong at the Fianna, to make sure he hasn't been dissuaded by Nevada's comment or anything.

Matt nods. "Aye. we need ta start decidin' 'bout Totems. Can ye tell us anyfin' about Raccoon?"

Anneka sits up a bit at that, looks at Matt. This is something new.

"Raccoon? Ohhh, I think I can," mutters Kaz. "Thing with Raccoon is, he's /stubborn/. An' freakin' smart. He'll survive anywhere you put him, adapt t'/anythin'/, an' keep pokin' into things, keep explorin', no matter what. An' that's the thing, he explores, he learns, he's smart, but he's also no pushover, an' he kicks butt seven ways to Sunday, most of the time. He's not considered the most honorable guy on earth, 'cause he /is/ a Totem've cunnin', but most people like him anyways." She jerks her head at Bernie. "She's met a couple, recently."

Bernie nods a bit. "Th' ones we got th' webs of th' building for an' with, over on th' other side? They were cute." She sips at her Coke some more.

Kaz says, "Yeah. Well. They're young. But raccoons, they may /look/ cute, but they're nasty buggers when you get'm mad. Never underestimate one. Them claws is dangerous."

Anneka leans over slightly, in a way she might catch Kaz's attention. There are serious questions in the cub's eyes, but she doesn't say anything just yet.

Matt finally takes a seat on the couch, next to Bernie and near Anneka. Seeing the questions, he says. "Go ahead. An ye doan't 'ave ta hit me."

Kaz says, "Or, more to the point, /me/. I don' like pain."

The girl blinks once, and pulls a corner of her mouth up into a ragged smile. She tilts the bag of Doritos towards Matt, leaning the bag out on a crossed leg. They smell pretty fresh, as far as processed corn does. "I was wonderin'," Anneka says quietly, "what totems were."

Matt's glance flickers towards his back as he retrieves his shirt. "Not particularly fond o' pain mesel'."

Bernie reaches over almost randomly and takes hold of Matt's shirt as well, with one hand, starting a silly little tug-of-war with it as things go back to cub teaching. She seems to consider snagging a couple of the Doritos, too, but having one hand full of fabric and the other full of aluminum can, doesn't actually reach to take any.

Kaz says, "Ha," and opens her Coke. "Well. You know how I was tellin' you how the world's basically got a spirit mirror? That's the Umbra, where that mirror is, where the spirits we whup butt on're originally found. An' there's /non/ Wyrmy spirits there, spirits've Wyld an' stuff, ones that we ally with. Raccoon, Unicorn, Rat, Weasel, all kinds. An' these Totem spirits, well, we ally with 'em real close. Garou packs, like me an' Bern an' Matt're formin'--" This causes her grin to rise, in realization of what she just said, but she goes on, "Garou packs become linked to them mystically when we ally with 'em. We give 'em power an' allegiance an' they give us certain advantages. An' we grow closer t'em, become more like them in spirit. Th' Tribes also have Totems, but th' tribes ain't /quite/ as close t'them as packs are."

"Packs can have people from diff'frent tribes?" She looks from Matt to Kaz and Bernie. It's a rhetorical sort of question, and Anneka barges on. "That's cool!" She pauses, squints. "'cause I was thinkin' that-- um." She crosses her arms, chases a thought visibly doesn't have words for around in a circle. "Unicorn? But--" She looks down at her hands, then at Matt, then starts laughing, high and loud. "Oh."

Anneka almost spills her chips is what she does as she laughs. "'Course there's unicorns!" She looks elated, freaked out. Something between the two.

Matt nods, sagely. "Of course there are. And all th' legends of Irish myth are abso-bloody-lutely true."

Anneka pulls her legs up and wraps her arms about them, eyes wide. A brow curves up. "What about Paul Bunyan?"

"An' Babe, th' Big Blue Bull, oh yeah, don'tcha see them wand'rin' through th' woods here alla time?" Bernie replies seriously, glancing to the other Cliaths.

Kaz says, trying not to grin at her reaction to the existence of Unicorns, mutters, "World of myth, baybee. Whole new world, f'sure. As f'Bunyan --" She glances at Bernie. "Yuh-huh," she says, unconvincingly. "Alla time..."

Matt shrugs. "Dunno. 'aven't met th' bloke. He from our sept?"

"Uh-huh," Anneka says, crossing her arms. "So not -everythin's- true, but a lot? Like us?" The last word is said readily, without pause, and then she's looking at Matt, gravely. "I'm gonna hafta learn how t'fight -an'- how to be a right Philodox, 'cause if I don't I'm gonna die, an' maybe other people too." The thought rocks her back a bit, and there's an edgy flicker to her eyes. She's just a kid, after all, but then she growls quietly and she's sitting up straight again. "Right?"

Bernie nods a bit, but doesn't answer. The cub seems to want the other 'dox's reply, which seems fair enough. She takes a sip of her Coke before silently offering the can over to him, if he wants a drink. Fighting can be thirsty work, after all.

Kaz seems to understand that as well, and is, for once in her life, quiet. Though it looks as if she has something to say, eventually.

Matt takes the coke, and nods with resolution to Anneka. "There were fourteen-year-olds in th' trenches in World War One. And /our/ war is tougher. But..." He takes a gulp of coke. "You'll not 'ave more flash mates. An Gaia...well, Gaia makes it worf it."

Bernie grins mischeviously. Distraction successful! She gives the shirt an extra tug, hoping to claim her prize. Matt's reply gets a nod of agreement, despite her slightly split focus.

The cub's quiet for a long, long time, green eyes shaded by her tangled hair. "She does," Anneka says, her voice low, almost a child's rasp-- She hasn't had much to drink, either, but she's still watching Matt. "Why are people afraid of us? We're fightin' for them-- Why are they?"

Kaz holds up a finger. "Galliard time, Matt, or you wanna take this?"

"Oi! Gercha!" Matt exclaims, as the shirt darts out of his hands. He makesa dive for it, spilling coke, before admitting defeat with a sigh, and shrugging for Kaz. "Yer tribe, Ten-Speed. Oi doan't wanta dilute yer teachin'." His wry grin disarms the barb.

"Ha!" Bernie exclaims, quiet but triumphant. "Vict'ry is mine..." She pulls some kleenex from her backpack to clean up the Coke spill, shirt wrappeda round her other hand and resting in her lap. Mostly, she waits to hear what Kaz has to say.

The metis sighs. "Like the long version, or the short version, kid?"

Anneka says, quiet. "Short's okay."

Matt raises a palm. "Oi can take that, hmm? She can get th' long from ye when she's curious, neh Tens?"

Kaz shrugs. "OK. Go for it."

Bernie sets the soiled tissues aside, folds the shirt up like a pillow, and rests her head on it, on the arm of the sofa, as she curls up comfortably in the corner of the sofa and closes her eyes.

Matt leans forward. "Long time ago, loike before cities were invented, we lived outside Human society, kinda keepin' human as breedin' stock, cattle." He looks wistful. "Actually a lot o' the Tales of Oisinn an' th' cattle raids are muddled-over stories 'bout it...any road. When they got too big, we'd cull 'em. Just go through town lettin' our rage take th' the weak an those too full o' piss. As ye can imagine, we scared th' arse out of 'em. 'appened like that fer three fousand years, give or take. Formed instincts in humans. They react ta us wif blind terror. Lit'rally. Their fear convinces them we're not real, or that they're chicken oriental or sommat. They forget, or rationalize it afterwards. S'What we mean when we sat 'the Veil.' So. The Veil Shall Not be Lifted means..." he prompts.

Quietly, Kaz adds, "Important fact: We thought they were encouraging the Wyrm. That's why we did it at all."

The cub looks from Kaz to Matt and back, then nods slowly. Her voice is even, her body very still. "That's why people get nervous, even when 'm not Crinos or anythin'. Because they know-- They don' run but they still -know-, down deep. They know." She takes a deep breath, looks down at her hands.

Bernie nods a little, eyes still closed. "Yup," she confirms, "tha's why. Instinct. Predator-prey relationship. 's like us'ly, most mice, they aren't gonna wanna hang out with cats. Now maybe somea 'em'll somehow not be so scared as most, but overall... they know deep down th' cats aren't healthy for 'em t' be with."

Matt smiles. "Aye. Ask me pitch. Oi'm the most terrifying busboy at Ruth Cris. Oi rule wif an iron fist." his lips tighten, thinning the smile. "But oi 'ave ta keep a tight lid on, or they'll rabbit. So, 'ow much o' th' Litany 'ave ye heard? Or more important, 'ow much do ye unnerstand?"

"We can't break the Veil, 'cause they'll 'member. An' if 'nough do, they'll get scared, an' mad, and--" Anneka blinks, looks up at Matt. "Kaz, an' Bernie an' Yi told me alla it, but knowin' words an' knowin' what stuff means is dif'rent." She shrugs. "I dunno how much I unnerstand yet."

"Prolly not a fuck of a lot. But y'mind if I go back t'something else, for a sec?" Kaz asks this, before taking an enormous sip of Coke.

Anneka brushes her hair from her eyes, blearily, looks at Kaz.

Matt shrugs. Sipping from his Coke. Half naked.

Bernie shifts position a bit, wrapping both hands in the shirt to warm them up, and half-opens her eyes, watching the others as she listens quietly.

"Earlier, you were askin' about whether people from different tribes could pack t'gether. Well. Often, they /don't/. Often, each tribe just bands together, sticks to its own people. But we've got all thirteen tribes here, which is /rare/. We may not necessarily be good at it all the time, but one of the things this Sept means, to /me/, is that I get the /chance/ to pack with people like Matt and Signe, back when I was packed with her." Kaz adds, jerking a thumb at Matt, "Thing is, tribes often think /really/ differently, so it's /hard/, livin' that close with someone who's basically not the same culture you are. Because a pack, you're in each other's pockets, all the time. You get to know everything there is t'know about 'em, a lot of the time. So." She shrugs a shoulder. "It's hard, but /worth/ it."

Matt scowls, reminded. "Bloody roight we don't fink alike. Take Nevada fer instance. Oi know 'e meant whot 'e said ta me as a compliment, if back'anded. But 'e crossed a line wif me, an' oi told 'im. 'e may not know where my boundaries are yet, but 'e will. Soon."

Anneka nods, her hair over her eyes again. "'Cause we're all in th'same boat, we're all Garou." She glances at Matt. "An' th'Litany's like-- bones? Holdin' everythin' up?"

Dryly, Kaz says, "You feel free an' tell him kinda forcefully. Me, I don' use sugardaddy as no kinda jestin' term." She glances at Anneka. "Good way've puttin' it."

"Mmhmm," comes the ragabash's voice, sleepily. "Works decently assa metaphor..."

Matt waggles his hand. "An' /rules/, so we all play nice togevver, focus on our common enemy, an' don't get caught up in petty distracting bollocks." He takes a spare hand to scratch his sleepy packmate's back.

The cub nods, then, pressing her hands against her forehead, hard. "Oww-- I think my brain's full." She smiles though, peeking between her fingers. "And I hafta r'member, 'cause that's part of me. That makes sense, too." She holds her arms out, makes a face. "Rrrr. Wha-- bollocks?" She blinks twice.

"Bullshit?" offers Kaz helpfully.

Bernie's eyes close again at the scratching. Mmmm... "...'s nonsense," she pipes up, "bollocks is, I mean. In that partic'lar usage anyhow..." She unwraps the shirt from her hands without reopening her eyes, and gives it back, now.

Matt nods, agreeing with both translations. He takes the shirt, gratefully, covering his goosepimples and returning to scratching.

Kaz looks from Gnawer to Fianna to other Gnawer. "Ok. Anneka. Sleep. You two? You're goin' home. Yeah?"

Anneka sits up. "Oh!" She tumbles off the couch and pads off to the kitchen, where she eventually finds and returns with a can of Coke. "Totems," she says, counting off a list on her free hand. "Tribe stuff, Litany, fightin' Matt's bad 'cause he squishes me an' I get too mad an' turn into somethin' really scary, totems an'-- Rr. Don't touch the stereo!" She blinks at Kaz, even yawns.

Matt shrugs. "Not my pope, an' Oi never got an offical invite. Sounds loike Oi oughta sleep in me own bed." He smiles at Anneka's list. "Doan't worry. Ye'll get so much teachin' ye'll scream fer a break from it."

"Well, you /can/ stay. I was just figurin' your own place's more comf't'ble." Anneka gets a grin from Kaz. "Naw. Use th' stereo all you want, just don' break the /furniture/. We c'n getcha more later, yeah?"

Bernie grins a little at the cub, still enjoying the scritching, and gradually prys her eyelids back open. "Yeah," she agrees, "home'd be good. An' r'member th' one 'bout th' stereo. I r'member Signe bein' real clear on that point when I was in here..."

Kaz blinks. "Oh. Well, ignore /me/ then. Listen t'y'fellow basement dweller."

Anneka nods the rueful nods. "Uh-huh!" She tumbles over onto the couch, which happens to be her bed, after all, and grins at Kaz. "Nevada has cool hair. -I- liked it," she says, yawning hugely.

Bernie shrugs a little, forcing herself up sitting again and stifling a big yawn. "Well, it could been jus' that she wasn' big on Raggies at th' time, it bein' jus' after th' pink wall inc'dent..." She closes up her backpack, perparing to put it on, ready to go.

Kaz grins. "Just one've many reasons why I'm packin' with him."

Matt doesn't bother rederssing totally, just pulling on his shoes and wrapping the belt around one hand. "Ready?" He asks his pack/flat-mate.

"I hear good hair c'n getcha far in life," Bernie agrees solemnly, running her fingers through her own unruly curls, and pushes up to her feet, nodding to Matt. "Yeah, def'nitely. Later, Ann'ka, Kaz." She waves, as she heads toward the door.

Kaz salutes Bernie and Matt. "Yeah. G'night. An' tell me other Totem ideas y'might get, yah?"

Bernie nods to Kaz. "Will do," she replies, and eyes the locks on the inside of the door. This time she doesn't even touch them, they just unlock, and she pulls the door open to head out.

Kaz represses a grin. "Gotta teach that to Max, so I can properly fear for my life."

Anneka blinks once at this, opens her mouth, then shakes her head. That question's for another day, yup. "G'night, Bernie!" She grins. "Night, ev'ryone."

Matt salutes and heads out.

[Bohemian Decadence]

Matt sighs, and rubs Bernie's shoulders. "Tired?"

Bernie mmms, wandering slowly into the apartment, shedding jacket and backpack as she goes. "Gettin' there, yeah," she admits, and glances back over her shoulder to him, "....you?"

Matt nods. "Teachin' is stressful."

Bernie considers that. "Mmm, I dunno. She's not stressful, 's not like teachin' Rotem. She's more like I was, y'know?" She stifles a yawn, and starts toward the bedroom, turning around halfway there to face him and walks backwards, fingers playing with that top button again. "...so," she begins, with a tired but mischevious smile, "....you gonna time me for future ref'rence, now?"

Matt grins. "Call 'is a practice run. Ye want me ta help? Fer th' Team Competitions?"

That earns a giggle. "Mixed Doubles?" Bernie queries, reaching the bedroom, "...yeeeeah, a'ight. Maybe we c'n be in th' next 'lympics. Though I dunno which country we'd hafta represent..."

"Wales," Matt affirms. "Ye might be surprised 'ow strong their team is..." He sits, pulling his shoes off again.

"Wales, huh?" Bernie leans over, about to undo her own boots, then pauses, "...mmm, prolly a penalty 'f I start now, huh?" She straightens again, and leans against the door, watching him.

Matt grins. "Oi'll let you say go." He pulls off his shirt, dangling it just out of her reach.

Bernie giggles softly. "Go," she says quietly, simultaneously leaning forward to steal the shirt, not that there's any very good reason but being prevented from doing so to do it.

Matt lets the shirt be stolen and drops to the floor to pull off the dedicated jeans. He has a definite head start in that he wasn't wearing more than that.

Bernie leans down and does the boots first; they take at least forty-five seconds by themselves, just untying and loosening the laces enough to step out of them. Perhaps it could have been quicker, but the slight distraction of her attention nearby adds a few seconds to it.

Matt tries not to laugh. "Combat sitchuashun, Books! People are dyin'!" He tucks under the covers and watches the unlacing with antici...pation.

Bernie pauses long enough to grin at him fleetingly as she steps out of the shoes, "...well, tha's why =you're= s'posta be keepin' 'em busy right now..." Her hands move to that top button again, and only hesitate a second, now; the unbuttoning is swift; in fact, just two button, and then she pulls it over her head and tosses it atop the dresser -- not more than ten seconds, probably closer to five. She does pinken a tad, but it's not a serious blush.

Matt nods. "Roight, roight. Oi forgot. Sorry." Oh, and he sounds it, too. Sure.

Trousers next; Bernie undoes the button with a little resistance, but none on the zipper. Taking hold of the waistband, she wriggles a bit to push them over her hips and down, stepping out of them and her socks at the same time and leaving the whole in a pile on the floor for now. "Ta da," she declares, stepping toward the blankets, "That can'ta been more'n two minutes..."

Matt raises an eyebrow. "You 'ave a secret supply o' undergarments Oi should know about? Or are they /all/ dedicated?" His grin is devilish, though the fatigue is still evident.

Bernie giggles, blushing a bit more. "I always wear th' dedicated ones when i'm wearin' undedicated clothes, jus' in case..." she replies, "y'know, be pr'pared..." She removes her glasses, leaning down to set then carefully aside, and stands again, running a hand through her curls and looking thoughtful, if ever pinker. "...tha's not, y'know, an illegal move in th' competition, is it?"

"Do Oi look loike a j..." Matt starts to say, then reconsiders. "Well, in this case no. Joost a practice run." He pats the blankets next to him. "C'mon. Let's go to bed, packmate."

Bernie can't help laughing at that, and nods, sliding down into the piles of blankets, and cuddling up close and warm against him. "Sounds likea good idea t' me... packmate." Smiling, she tips her head up and kisses him lightly on the lips.

Matt leans up quickly to get the light, thn settles back down to receive and return the kiss. Cradling Bernie, he drifts off into blissful sleep. Packed and Rited. Two major problems solved in one week.

Bernie sighs contentedly as she nestles her head into its usual resting place on the Fianna's chest, and wraps an arm about him. She closes her eyes, and quicker than usual, within minutes, she, too, falls asleep.