The old church is dark, dimly lit by outside light coming in through scum-encrusted windows during the day, and tomblike during the night. There is a coatroom in the back of the nave, with separate doors leading off to mens' and womens' restrooms, and two staircases, one going up to the balcony and bell-tower, and the other leading down to the basement. The double doors leading out to the street are at the back of the coatroom.
The hard wooden pews in the sanctuary are, for the most part, still intact. There are even Bibles and hymnals left in the shelves along the back of each row, although many of them look rather chewed on. The altar on a dais at the front of the church is empty, and the lectern that once stood next to it has been knocked over. Rotting red cloth hangs at the very front of the church; there might once have been a design on it, but it has long since faded or been eaten away.
The loud sounds of pews scraping the floor fill the air. Rotem is busily pushing the pews aside, clearing up the room within the church. Four pews are in the middle of the room, turned onto their sides, arranged into a makeshift table. They are low enough to the ground so that one could eat off them while sitting on the ground and still be comfortable.
"Pillows," Bernie remarks, surveying the scene, hands on her hips, "Wish we had pillows. For people t' sit on, y'know? Comfier." She finishes walking in, and swings her backpack gently onto the closest pew, then calls, "Heads up!" and tosses something fabric like in Rotem's direction. It's olive drab, much like her own backpack beneath the pins and patches.
Rotem snatches the fabric as he turns around. Fumbling to hold onto it, then looking at the item. "Heya Burns! Thanks." He smiles turning the backpack over. "This will help a lot, thanks sis." He smiles then places the bag down on the last pew, then goes about finishing the set up of the room.
Bernie grins and shrugs. "No prob. Just a trek down t' army surplus, y'know?" She drops into an upright pew near the front, facing the makeshift table. "So. Looks like it's goin' okay. Everythin' downstairs, or we gotta go pick it up?"
Rotem pulls the bag up from the pew after it is pushed to the door. "Yeah, I'm getting some stuff last minute, the food. I got boxes of wine in a box, downstairs." Rotem pulls the bag onto his shoulders as he speaks, adjusting the straps. "We're gonna need a lot of silverware and plates, and glasses. Think you can raid a K-mart for the plastic goods?" The ahroun cub makes his way over towards Bernie.
Bernie nods, hands in her jacket pockets. "Yeah, no sweat...." She eyes the 'table' again. "We got tablecloths or anythin'?" A thought strikes her and she moves back to her bag, opening it up and lightly tossing a small stack of stapled groups of photocopies onto the tipped pews. "...figured, we oughta have some Haggadahs," she explains, with a light shrug. A somewhat wry half-smile, "...y'know, in case anyone actually comes."
Rotem chuckles and nods. "S'cool. I didn't think of that." Rotem chuckles softly. "We going to do the whole thing, or just a few parts, so we get to the food before midnight?"
"We'll talk real fast..." Bernie replies flippantly, and shrugs again. "I dunno. 'spose we prolly oughta jus' do bits, really. You'll hafta d'cide which while I'm runnin' errands, yeah?"
Rotem nods. "I guess I can." Rotem looks down at the photocopies. "I'll just pick a couple of things, we'll sing haad gadya, and stuff our faces. The way god intended." A soft chuckle and he takes off the backpack. "Should be fun."
Bernie laughs, and stretches. "Gotta keep th' plagues. Ninth plague's Ragabash," she remarks, with an oddly lopsided grin for a moment. "So. We got ev'rythin' sorted yet? 'side from th' silverware. Oh, plates an' glasses, should I be gettin' those too, or didja cover that?"
Rotem nods. "Yeah, you'll have to pick those up." Rotem seems to be distracted, counting off on his fingers. "Why are Ragabashes darkness?"
"No moon, right?" the raggie replies, grinning more like she normally does, and leaning against an upright pew. "That an'... eh, nothin'." The expression that briefly passes over her features implies it's private, though not unpleasant. "Mm. Might try callin' my folks t'day, 'f I c'n get holda a phone," she muses.
Rotem sighs at the mention of family, but quickly shakes it off, looking back to Bernie. "Oh, yeah, no moon, gotcha..." He turns and looks at the table. "We are still missing something." He mumbles to himself, looking up and down. Several moments pass. "The cup!" He smiles, then looks to Bernie. "I'll see what I can find at Jarred's.
Bernie nods, thoughtfully. "Y'could try th' thrift stores, too," she suggests, "Goodwill's us'ly got th' best kitchen shit, but Quality Thrift's decent too. They're both over a ways that way," she adds, indicating the direction with her head, "'case y'di'n' know."
Rotem smiles to Bernie. "So is there anything I'm forgetting, or are we just about set?" He leans up against a wall, hands shoving into his jacket pockets, a male image of the classic Bernie pose.
Bernie runs through everything in her head, biting her lower lips lightly, in the same position as the cub, though supported by a pew rather than a wall, for now. "I... =think= we got it. 'f I thinka anything we missed, I'll pick it up, y'know?" A nods, as if to mark things a settled, and she straightens, stepping over to retrieve her bag.
Rotem smiles. "Okay, I'm going to pack up m-my stuff too, into the bag. Just so no one T-tries to take anything."
"Sounds like a plan," Bernie replies, starting toward the door, but walking backward as she speaks, "Be back later, obviously." A light wave of her hand as she turns, and then she slips out the door again.