The deadbolt rolls in the lock, and a tired but not unhappy Matt slides into the flat.

Tonight, the positions are reversed. Bernie's on the couch, book in hand, an empty plate of what was evidently some of last night's leftovers on the coffee table. The book, unusually enough lately, doesn't appear to be research; it's a quite thick paperback with an art-covered cover. Likely fiction. As the door opens, she starts, looking almost guilty for a split second before grinning and lifting her free hand in a wave to the Fianna. "Hey."

Matt's face splits into a wide grin. "Oi. I um,...I bought a radio." He presents the radio from behind his back. It's an undersized boom box, with a cd player in it.

"Oh, kickass!" Bernie exclaims, with a mirroring grin, and pulls a scrap of paper off the table to serve as a temporary bookmark. The book is dropped on the cushion as she stands and heads over to examine the new prize.

The Radio is an inexpensive Panasonic, with a cd player in the top and a tape deck. The speakers are detachable, but only have a couple feet of speaker wire. Matt sets it on the kitchen table to meet inspection. "Oi was gonna put in th' kitchen."

Bernie looks it over approvingly, and nods. "Sounds good t' me. Lotta counter space an' all..." She taps the cd player lightly, and giggles, "I'll hafta go steal 'lish's CDs or somethin'."

Matt raises an eyebrow. "we could /buy/ some, y'know." He grins. "Oi was just wantin' the radio when Oi was cookin' this mornin.'" He moves the radio to the counter, then pulls his workshirt over his head.

Bernie giggles, leaning against the edge of the counter and watching. "I meant steal in th' sensa borrow, but yeah, s'pose we could..." Her eye drift briefly toward the fridge, "...you hungry?"

Matt smiles. "Ah. Right. Silly of me to fink a Gnawer Ragabash might consider...Oh yah, Oi could do wif some Jim. Peckish, Oi am."

Bernie sticks her tongue out at Matt as she stands. "Not from my =friends=," she replies, sounding wounded, as she pulls down a plate from the cupboard. The remaining leftovers come out of the fridge to be warmed up while she gets out the silverware.

Matt wanders off into the bedroom to change the rest of the way out of work clothes. A few minutes later, he returns in sweats, barefoot.

The timing is good. Bernie meets him just at the entrance to the kitchen, handing over the plate. "Whatcha want t' drink?" she queries.

Matt scratches his head, examining the plate of leftovers. "So what're my options, then? hmm?"

"Well," Bernie replies, glancing at the refrigerator as if her x-ray vision might reveal the contents therein, "...water, milk, orange juice, coke, or ber, I think." A pause, and, "...or any combination thereof, 'f you're so inclined."

Matt takes the plate and hops lightly over the arm of the couch with it. "Oi'd like a glass o' th' Columbia Crest merlot, please. Or a coke, if ye 'aven't got th 1987."

"Coke it is," Bernie replies, pulling a two-liter from the fridge and setting it on the counter to get a glass. "...hey, don't squish th' book, yeah? 's somewhere on th' couch." She pours the soda, and brings it over, setting it on the coffee table and then flumping onto the sofa, making sure it's not on the novel.

Matt looks underneath him, and sure enough, he's flopped on it, but not in such a way that it's damaged. Setting the plate on the coffee table, he examines the book's cover before handing it over.

It's titled 'The Mammoth Hunters', and the cover depicts a landscape including a group of people in furs, with spears, and a small herd of mammoth. Bernie takes the volume with what seems like a touch of embarrassment, setting it aside on the coffee table before scooting in beside Matt on the cushions. "Thanks. So... good day then?"

Matt nods, putting a fork in the pasta and, Fianna fashion, talking with his mouth full. This does not make him easier to understand, by any means. "'andsome. Eighty cents sixty an' Oi got two shifts covered for a fortnight 'ence." He nods to the book, curious. "Whots all that then, eh? Goin' ta 'uncover' a mammoff?"

"Cool!" Bernie exclaims, curling up comfortably on the cushions, and glances toward the book again, seeming perhaps to gain one shade of pink in her cheeks, "...an' nah. 's just a novel. Girl I useta know in school told me I oughta read it, once. 's a'ight, I s'pose. Not really so much my kina thing, though."

Matt nods. "Only four more ta get shifted, if we stay a week. Oi guess that's a question. 'ow long d'ye wanta visit? Or, 'ow long d'ye want ta be gone? We could see some ovver sights. Th' Gran' Canyon, Yellowstone, that sort.

Bernie considers, thoughtfully. "I dunno... not =too= long, I guess, or they might need us 'round here... but I've never seen anya those places, so..." She smiles, and leans against him. "...how're we gonna travel? Th' Lambretta?"

Matt shrugs. "'ow else? It gets good gas mileage. Oi've driven it to Brighton an' back, so it ought ta make California." He pauses to eat. "We won't be th' fastest or the flashest, but 'oo needs ta be all 'arry Big-Buttons, anyway, Oi say."

Bernie giggles. "Works for me," she remarks, stealing the glass of soda and taking a good swallow of it before returning it to the table. She gets a slightly mischevious grin, and pushes up onto her knees, sliding one leg around to insinuate herself between Matt and the back of the sofa, and wrapping her arms about his waist. "After all, 's a good excuse t' do this a lot..."

Matt leans back, pressing his bare back against her. "Aye. 'Tis that." He finishes off the pasta and then the Coke, setting the plate on the coffee table.

Bernie nuzzles in quietly against his neck for a little, until he leans forward to set the plate aside. "...so I s'pose, when we figure out how long we're gonna go for an' all, we oughta figure out... where we're goin', an' travel time, an' sleep time, an' actual bein'-there time. Yeah?"

Matt shrugs. "Awroight. Yer the planner, Books. Top speed on the Lambretta is about eighty-five. So traffic is goin' ta pass us most o' the time, but we'll get there. Should we get road maps?"

A nod. "Def'nitely. Maps good. I'll get some t'marra, we c'n start with d'cidin' where we wanna stop... an' miles or kilometers?" she asks, leaning in against his back again.

Matt says "Whot is?""

"Top speeda eighty-five," Bernie replies, "...'zat miles or kilometers?"

Matt turns his head, to look at her at least out of the corner of his eye. "Kilometers per 'our. Loike Oi said, most traffic will be doin' 120, or so."

Bernie grins. "Just makin' sure. Back home, sometimes when they're doin' one-twenny, it =is= miles an hour..." She leans forward over his shoulder a bit to try and catch a quick kiss. "...'s all I need."

Matt nods. "So Oi'll cover my shifts on that first week fer certain, an' wait fer you ta tell me 'ow long we'll be gone past that, eh?" He squirms in her lap, ruining her concentration.

Pause. "...Uh-huh." Bernie gives his neck a light nip in retaliation, careful not to cause any marks, though, now. "...an' we'll hafta let some people here know, too."

Matt turns in the confines of her legs, so that he can twist his upper body to giver her a proper kiss. "Settled, then," he says when the kiss breaks. "Oi'll give the Lam a one and two, make sure it's spit to go."

"Settled," Bernie agrees, loosening her arms' grip on his waist as he turns. She grins, and bounces a little, stealing another quick kiss, seeming rather excited with the plan.

"So..." Matt says, with exaggerated innocence, "Whot shall we do wif the rest o' th' evenin'? OI mean, Oi /do/ 'ave ta get some bo peep, so mebbe we should kip a little early..."

Bernie rests her chin on his shoulder, eyes widening slightly as she responds in kind, "Oh, I dunno... I mean th' options 're nigh infinite, yeah? But, 'course, 'f you've gotta go t' bed, well, we wouldn' wanna be irresponsible an' prevent you gettin' your full eight hours..."

Matt grins. "An' well you shouldn't. Gotta pay fer petrol an food an all."

"True, true," she agrees, and runs a finger along the side of his jaw, adding in a teasing tone, "...'least it looks like you're all caught up an' we don' hafta worry so much 'bout your beauty sleep."

Matt snorts. "Way past =that=, Oi'm afraid. Bur s'not a bad idea." He get sup, putting plates into the sink to soak over night.

Bernie giggles, standing up as well, and stretching. "Past caught up? Well, that oughta keep ya beautiful even if y'di'n' get =any= sleep, then..." She runs a hand through her curls, and leans against the side of the couch, watching him.

Matt sticks his tongue out, then returns to the couch, offering his hands to help her up.

Bernie accepts them as she straightens up, and leans up a bit to give him a slow, soft kiss. "What, can't take a compliment?" she asks, smiling, "...gonna hafta work on that, I guess." She hasn't yet let go of his hands.

Matt grins, lopsided. "Oi take the ones Oi deserve. But oi suppose an exception could be made, since you're a no moon an' everyone knows they're crazy." He leads the way into the bedroom, flopping onto the bed.

"Mmhmm," Bernie agrees, flopping down beside him, "..can't speak for anyone else, 'course, but I'm pretty sure we established =I'm= completely mental..." She giggles again, bestowing a quick smooch to the top of his nose, and adds airily, "...butcha like me anyhow."

Matt mistakes the nose-kiss for a real one and mouths his half anyway. "Aye, I do. Despite my better judgement, I'm arse-over-tits fer an urrah no moon. Go figure."

Bernie blushes, and gives him a proper kiss, the first truly intense one of the night, which leaves no possible question whether the feeling is mutual. It lingers for quite a while before she pulls away to murmur, "...sorry," though whether it's for the kiss or in response to his comment is unclear. Either way, it sounds far less than truly repentant.

Matt pulls her down with him on the bed, kissing her fiercely. As she prepares for bed, however, he beats her to it, falling asleep in his sweats, on top of his nest of blankets.

Bernie laughs softly on discovering this, and shakes her head, sighing in amused resignation. She gently pulls the blankets from beneath him and back over top, slipping in to curl up beside him and, soon enough, drift off to sleep herself.