Collin arrives. Just like that. There's no massive fanfare. There's no trumpets or bright shining lights to announce it. He just arrives, quietly, strolling through the park.

Bernie is sitting on a bench by the fountain, bag on the ground near her feet. She doesn't notice the arrival at first, since she's staring up at the sky, head tilted rather far back, eyes firmly on the moon, clouds, and stars. There's a flower stuck in her curls, just behind one ear; it seems to be one of the many around the fountain itself. Her hands are resting lightly in her lap; all in all, it's a rather serene little tableau.

"Well, well, well. Hi, Bernie." Collin says cheerfully. "You know, somehow I knew I'd find you here? How are you doin'?" He soon takes a seat next to her, promptly, without even waiting for so much as an invitation. It's just assumed.

Bernie grins, without taking her eyes from the sky. That's a familiar voice; it doesn't require movement. "Hey," she replies, casually. "Just th' guy I wan'ed t' see. An' I'm not bad... yourself, Oh Lord Our Collin?"

"Well," Collin begins, "In the immortal words of Diamon Dallas Page.. Lady, if I was doin' any better I'd have to be twins just to handle it."

Bernie giggles, still looking skyward. "Good t' know. Whatcha been up to, last couple days?"

"Oh, this and that. Trying to survive. Oh, I will survive," he breaks out into song, "as long as I know how to love.."

Bernie laughs and joins in, "...I know I'll stay alive, I got all my live t' live, an' I've got all my love t' give an' I'll survive, I will survive, hey hey!" She's actually quite good. Except for cracking up at the end. Shaking her head, she finally looks down from the heavens. "Nice night, innit?"

He sings right along with her, cheerfully even. "Perfectly nice night. At least so far. You never know when something bad might happen. So whatcha doing out here, dare I ask? Other than, you know, stargazing."

"Lookin' for people t' start an a capella group with. Congrats, you're drafted..." Bernie grins, and shrugs. "Stargazin' an' plottin'. Tryin' t' work a buncha stuff out." She gestures to the other side of her, where a notebook and pen lie half-abandoned on the bench.

"Like what?" queries Collin as he settles down. He looks over at the notebook, then goes to flip it open with a look of askance towards Bernie. "You mind?" He gestures at it.

Bernie looks, momentarily, almost scared, then just torn, and she shrugs. "...s'pose..." she replies, less than wholly enthusiastically. "...anyway, like I said, a buncha things. At least onea which I wanna recruit you for..."

"Oh yeah?" Collin pauses, holding off on rifling through the notebook just yet. "Like what?"

Bernie half-smiles. "Search an' destroy mission, as it were... y'know th' whole bone fiasco, yeah? An' how Leda was s'pposedly gonna handle it, but she's, like, bogged off somewhere? Well. We're handlin' it. I came up with a plan. Gotta two pronged attack, an' th' prong I took's destroyin' the research, evidence, all that shit they got at th' school, while they're all out at their big bone banquet. Which th' other prong'll be kidnappin' th' bones themselves from, once it's over. So wanna help me fuck shit up?" She grins, now, with that slightly feral, toothy edge to it.

"Ah. That banquet. How will you get the skeleton out before they unveil it is the question, really. I mean, think about it. They're going to have it on hand and under guard to make sure nothing happens, you'd think, and there' s easily a tremendous potential for veil damage here." He looks a little pained by the thought.

Bernie considers. "We were gonna do it just after. T'give more time t' do th' other half. Y'think it's important b'fore, huh? How come?" She trails off, and blinks. "...photographers?"

"Uh, yes. And wouldn't you want to get it *before* everyone's seen it?" Collin points out, idly.

Bernie shrugs. "They're bones bein' presented as 'probably a short nosed bear'," she replies, "it shouldn't make a big diff'rence if people've seen 'em, really. But. Photographs would suck, a lot. 'cause th' idea is to ransom 'em, an' r'place 'em with others if they pay, see. So th' motive looks nice an' clear." She gnaws her bottom lip, and shakes her head. "Damn. I'm prolly gonna hafta come up with =another= way t' do it. What a pain in th' ass." She makes a face. "Originally, I wan'ed t' do it first, mostly 'cause DAMN it'd be cinematic if they couldn't notice 'til th' unveiling, and they only had a note insteada th' bones, y'know? But it's a hell of a lot more uncertain an' trickier than th' plan t' snatch 'em after. So many variables."

"Correct. It wouldn't be too hard to find out if they intend to let photographers in." Collin shakes his head. "You might want to find out about that. Maybe get one or two of the Kin to buy a ticket and ask if they can bring a camera, take a picture of the bones? If they say they're not allowing anyone to take pictures yet, well, there you go." He points out, then folds his hands together in front of him. "Also, stealing the bones beforehand, while more difficult, prevents the possibility of someone who knows the truth getting their hands on them. Let's keep in mind that we're not the only supernatural critters out there, Bernie, and it's possible there could be something else out there attaching itself to the story. Not likely. Hell, not even remotely so, but another variable to take into consideration in your plan."

Bernie drums her fingers on the bench beside her, and nods. "Hun'red bucks a plate; I dunno 'f anya 'em c'n =afford= t' go, but hell, =I= could call up an' be =interested= in it...." She shakes her head, looking annoyed at herself, and picks up the notebook, flipping it to a partially full page and scribbling something down. One could assume it was a note to call and ask that, but it's hard to tell, since she doesn't seem to write in English in there. It looks like Greek letters, mostly. She sighs, a frustrated sound. "Dammit, y'know, this'd all be SO fucking much easier if people hadn't said they'd do it an' flaked out." Obviously that doesn't annoy her in the least, nope. "...anyway. So, help me with various destruction? Or d'ya have a hot date Thursday night?"

Collin just gives Bernie a dry look. "Me? A hot date? You've gotta be kidding me. Anyways, sure, I'll see what I can do, obviously. Right. Well, there you go. Once you find that out, and it's probably a good idea to find it out soon, you should be fine. Otherwise, you're going to have a spot of trouble about this. What, if they all take pictures or something. Or, hell, even one picture could be really problematic. It doesn't seem like much of a press event or anything, though, but it's definitely something to worry about." He shakes his head, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Bernie grins, fleetingly. "I guess there's just no fun in it if y' use your Phenomenal Cosmic Powers t' get 'em t' go out t' dinner with ya, huh?" she teases, before going more serious again, "...yeah, I'll call 'em t'marra. Also gotta steal Ling's satchel, get her sketches. An' her laptop, 'cause I dunno what th' hell she might have on it."

"Like pictures." Collin points out, idly. "This is just one huge mess that's not too easy to deal with." He wrinkles his nose. "Because there's no way to be sure of most of the stuff being cleaned up."

Bernie nods. "Yup. An' there'd've been less stuff if I coulda done it earlier. But. Water, bridge, et cet'ra. Just doin' th' best clean up I can. 'cause if there's some magic easy way outta this, I haven't come up with it yet."

"Sometimes things go on too long and just get promptly dropped in your lap. Now there's no choice. Do or, uh, hope to god the veil stays in one piece. A lot." Collin nods his head, solemnly.

Bernie shrugs. "I know. 's why I'm doin' it," she replies simply. Her gaze moves up to the sky again, and she's silent for a while again.

"Right." Collin seems pleased. "Now that's the way to go and take a handle on things!"

Bernie half-smiles, and shrugs a little, still looking at the sky, then plops her hands down on her knees, and pushes to standing before picking up her notebook again and putting it back in her backpack. "I want a milkshake," she declares, zipping the big pocket and pulling the bag over her shoulder. "Wanna join me?"

"Slurp. Absolutely. Milkshakes are good." Collin agrees, firmly.

Bernie grins a bit. "Well. I'm in favour of 'em, yeah," she agrees, and starts toward the park's exit. "Denny's, then." A quick flash of the whole grin, "...you buyin'?"

Collin says, cheerfully, "I actually have some dollars. Not many, but I can try and buy it. A little bit."

Bernie nods, the grin returning. "Sounds like a plan t' me." She heads out of the park, and the few quiet blocks from there to the restaurant, hands loosely in her jacket pockets.

In the meantime, Collin checks his wallet. On the way there, that is. He looks at it, then adds, "I have fifteen bucks. That's all I have, though. Period. That enough?"

"Oh, hell yeah, that's plenny. Milkshake's only, like, three-nine'y-five or somethin' like that..." Bernie pushes the first of the glass doors open, and holds it, letting the other Ragabash into the little fishbowl foyer.

"I could've sworn they were more expensive, but I might be thinking of Sherry's instead of Denny's. It's not like the two are all that different anyways." Collin winks, then looks around. And, of course, waits to be served by a mousey waiter who's a little unnerved by he and Bernie, of course. His look at the two of them is a little less than trusting. Then again, this could be just because it's late and they're a pair of teens. They could easily be up to no good!

Bernie frowns as little as the waiter tries to lead them to a little table in the center of the room, and points to a nearby booth. "Mind 'f we sit there, instead?" Kenneth (if his nametag can be believed) shakes his head and ushers them over to the booth she indicated, informing them both that their server will be with them soon. Bernie drops into the booth and sets her backpack to one side, joined, unusually enough, by her jacket, before she sighs, crossing her arms on the table and resting her chest on them. "Mmmph. I hate middle-of-th'-room tables."

"Who doesn't?" agrees Collin, shaking his head. "Once again, God has returned to Denny's." He settles in comfortably, promptly, and kicks his feet up across the booth, though, off to Bernie's side. He's not playing footsy or anything like that. That would be bad, see. "Milkshakes. Hmmm."

"Milkshakes," Bernie agrees, resting her chin on her crossed arms for a moment before pushing up to lean back in her half of the booth, legs coming up to cross at the ankles with her boots on the other side of the booth, beside Collin, making things symmetrical. "I think I'll go v'nilla, t'day."

"Took the words right out of my mouth," Collin informs her, quickly. "Vanilla is the stuff." He shifts a bit, waits around for the waiter to come back with ice water and menus and informs him, "We're actually ready to order. Two vanilla milkshakes, man. Vanilla is the stuff."

"Totally," Bernie agrees to the poor, slightly taken aback waiter, deadpan, "We require vanilla. With whipped cream on top. Vanilla is an absolute necessity."

"Vanilla is the necessity," Collin repeats. "Resistance is futile. Do our bidding." He stares at the waiter, awaiting his scurrying off. Which he does. Quickly. Apparently, he's not one to really want to deal with the freaky teens for too long.

Bernie grins brightly as soon as the waiter isn't looking anymore, and relaxes into the cushioning again, dragging an ice water towards her. "Know what'd be fun? Board games. A whole bunch of us should come here some night and play, like, Scattergories or some shit."

"Absolutely." Collin's grin turns positively devilish at that. "We should come here more often," And he says that just loudly enough for the poor waiter to hear it when he's passing by.

Bernie can't help but giggling at the waiter's expression as he blanches, trying not to let his reaction show. She takes a sip of water, watching him with an amused look, and then looks back to Collin, grinning. "Oh, def'nitely."

"And more of our friends. Too bad they have a no dice policy here or board games would be great. But there's always trivial pursuit." Collin ponders this, looking a little contemplative.

Bernie blinks. "They have a no dice policy? Aw. Trivial Pursuit uses dice, though. An' anyway I always win." She smiles mischievously as she says that. "Scattergories only has th' one die you roll t' pick th' letter... 'course, I always win that, too. Oh!" She sits up straighter, "we should do Taboo!"

"Yeah! Taboo! Or Jenga!" Collin nods, seriously contemplating this.

Bernie giggles. "Or... Operation!" She pushes her curls back behind her shoulders. "Hey. Think we could get away with Trouble? I mean, it's got dice, but they're in th' pop-o-matic bubble..."

"Probably not," Collin says, mournfully. "But we could give it a try!"

Bernie grins. "We could bring in dice-intensive games an' play 'em without dice. Like, Zen Yahtzee," she proposes, taking another sip of the water.

"Zen Yahtzee." Collin agrees, laughing. "I like that idea. We'll have to do that. Zen Yahtzee." It seems to have struck a funny bone.

About then, the milkshakes arrive. And most acceptable they are, properly heaped with whipped cream, served with a long thin spoon, a straw, and the extra shake in a big silver cup-thing. Bernie looks as though she approves. "Well done, thou good and faithful servant..." she declares, spooking the poor guy further, "thy place in paradise is assured." A beat, and in her normal causal tones, "...long's y' don't fuck up."

"Indeed. Don't fuck up," Collin solemnly tells him, "and your place in paradise is assured. In other words: What she said." Then, milkshake.

Bernie ignores the waiter after that, allowing him to scurry off as if he might be lit on fire... or infected... if he remained. The usual disdain for crazy kids is mixed with an unusual amount of genuine discomfort and almost fear on his face. Bernie seems to be enjoying the effect, for once, as she rips the end off the straw-condom, and then shoots the wrapper across the table at her companion before smirking and sticking the denuded straw into the drink.

Idly, Collin slurps away at the milkshake. Really, he seems to be enjoying it. After swallowing, he says, "Man. It's been *ages* since I had a good milkshake. You know that?"

Despite having stabbed the semi-liquid with her straw, Bernie doesn't drink yet; instead, she picks up the impossibly long spoon and starts scooping small portions of the cream off the top and into her mouth. "I did not know that," she replies in her best Johnny Carson, which really isn't very good.

So bad, in fact, that Collin doesn't recognize it. "Well, of course you didn't." He shakes his head, then leans forward and rests his chin on the palm of his hand while he slurps away, contentedly. Ahh, the jots of life.

Bernie grins, and gestures at him with her spoon. "But now I know. And knowing is half th' battle." Gradually, she finishes off her whipped cream, and eyes his speculatively for a few moments.

"Yo Joe." Collin retorts, promply, recognizing *that*. Now you also know what he *did* watch on Saturdays.

Bernie nods approvingly. "A real American hero," she remarks, reaching over to steal some of God's whipped cream with her long spoon.

"Hey!" Collin looks offended by the stealing and he reaches over to steal some back, quickly, letting out a mock growl.

Bernie devours her prize quickly, so it can't be taken from her, and grins. Sadly, her own shake yields just about nothing in the way of whipped cream, since she already ate it all. "Muahahaha!"

Collin sniffs. He just sniffs. "Bitch," he says, eyeing his shake with another mournful, sad gaze.

"Woof," Bernie replies, unperturbed. The gaze apparently gets to her, though. "Aww... it's not like I took all that much. Hmph."

"It was still some of it," Collin mumbles, eyeing it still. "You have any idea how long," sniff sniff, " it might be before I have one of these again?"

Bernie smirks, and shakes her head. "It =might= be a decade. It's prolly gonna be, like, maybe a week, though. Ham."

"Well, longer than that." Collin huffs. "This is the first time I've actually thought to have one this year. I don't have any money, Bernie, most of the time." A quick grin, the illusion of his suffering dispelled by it.

Bernie shrugs, "Yeah, but maybe I would, an' I might buy you one. Never know." Seeing as the whipped cream is gone and all, she makes use of that straw now, starting in on the actual shake.

Laughing, Collin nods his head, solemnly. "I would thank you. It would be a good sacrificial offering to God."

"Better'n a fatted calf or the traditional sacrifical lamb?" Bernie queries, before going back to rather swiftly draining her glass.

"Quite. I much prefer this to chuggling on their blood after hanging them from the trees." Collin sighs, shaking his head.

Bernie arches a brow, adjusting her glasses. "Well, quite," she replies, "...but then, nothin' like a good mugga hot blood on a chilly day, an' all." This, of course, timed for when the waiter has finally gotten the nerve to come by to ask if everything's all right. He doesn't ask, just walks =right= by.

Smiling towards the waiter, Collin shows his teeth at him. Really, it's no wonder he was nicknamed 'Cheshire' at one point. He looks back to Bernie. "Of course. It's mmn-mmn good."

Bernie sings, more softly than in the park, "Fatted calf's blood's mm-mm good..." and snickers before returning to work on her shake.

"I bet you always wondered why Campbell's Soup's tomato sauce is just *that* color of red." He winks.

Bernie giggles. "An' here I thought it was th' tomatoes. Silly, naive li'l me."

"Yep. You didn't realize, but now you know.." And he waits for you to chime in on the second half, because it's quite obvious: "And knowing is half the battle."

Bernie does chime in, following up with a reasonably enthusiastic, "Go Joe!" and a small laugh. The main shake being done, she moves on to the big silver cup, doing a straw transplant.

Snickering again, Collin leans back once more, having leaned forward for another slurp of it. "You know, they're coming out with a new G.I Joe comic book series. A limited, though. Scary, eh?"

Bernie grins, and shakes her head. "I dunno. Just not th' same, y'know?" She lifts a hand to stifle a traitorous yawn.

"It isn't. They're having a disbanded G.I Joe reforming. Cobra got destroyed, but the Cobra Commander is still on the loose and he's just showed up in the States again, a wanted and desperate fugitive. Poor Cobra Commander. Why doesn't anyone love him? I always thought he was the coolest." He shakes his head.

Bernie blinks once, and then starts giggling again. "Dude. That would be a cool song... Cobra Commander, I Love You." A curl gets relocated to behind her ear, but rejects the forced migration. "Someone's gotta love him, or else he'd be dead, by now."

"Cobra Commander, why doesn't anyone love you? Ooh oooh. Can you kiss the girls with a face plate? Oooh ooh. Are you a virgin, is it true? Cobra Commander... can't get a date! Oooooh!" Impromptu singing. He's not bad. Not great. But not bad!

Bernie laughs hard enough at that that she has to push the milkshake away a few moments while she recovers to a mere snicker. "Bravo. Gonna have a recordin' contract =any= day now..."

He stands up, but only to take a bow. Then he sits back down again and slurps at his milkshake. "Thank you," he does a decent Elvis too, "thank ye very much."

Bernie golf-claps, and pulls her shake back over, going back to sipping at it. "Just skip th' ODing, this time..."

"Pshaw. Elvis was just another one of my avatar's. That's why he's sprung up so much since his 'death'. I couldn't resist fucking with people." Collin explains.

"Oh, well, that explains =everything=," Bernie agrees knowingly, with a slow nod. "But why so many minimarts and fast food joints?"

"I got hungry." Collin says, solemnly.

Bernie tilts her head a moment, and then shrugs. "Can't argue with that!" she decides. "Though, I woulda interspersed 'em with some nice places, m'self."

"Who says I didn't?" Collin winks.

Bernie considers that. "Well, why don't th' tabloids ever say, 'Elvis Spotted At 5-Star French Restaurant -- Sources Say He Ordered The Escargot'?"

"Who the hell would recognize Elvis that went to a *French* resturaunt? Better yet, why would they admit it? Everyone would think they were like the bumpkin freaks." Collin points out.

Bernie hmms. "Well, if they stood up and yelled, 'Look, Cletus! Ain't that th' KING?', yeah, but who'd know it was them if they just called up the tabloids later? Hell, they don't even hafta take a surreptitious photo, just get an artist's conception..."

"Well, yes. There is that. But, see, they're afraid of the consequences of it. And they're much more likely also to, you know, just think it's an impersonator." Collin nods, solemnly.

"Mmm, well, =that's= a point," Bernie grants, leaning back into the booth's cushions. She picks up the cup, and continues drinking, almost done with it, now.

"Indeed," replies Collin, solemnly again. That's truthfully all he seems to have to say on the subject matter for the moment. He props his feet back up on the bench across from him and begins the process of finally finishing off his milkshake. In between two slurps, though, he eyes her. "Doctor Doom is my hero." Out of the blue, that was.

Bernie sets her now empty cup back on the table. "Oh, yeah?" she queries, "...how come? I mean, aside from tenacity, an' all."

"He always knows what to do." Collin winks.

Bernie mms, and nods. "Wish I did...."

"So do I." Collin agrees, quickly. He leans forward and props his head up again. "But we all always do. I mean, I'm sure there are moments when Doom stops and wonders what country he has to take over next, you know."

"Prolly," Bernie agrees, "I mean, Brazil, or Saudi Arabia? Saudi's got all that oil, but I head Brazil's got killer beaches..." She grins.

"Brazil!" Collin chimes in, "I loved that movie. It's been ages since I saw it, though. Did you know that Brazil is *actually* the second part of a trilogy?"

Bernie shakes her head. "Nope! What're th' other two, then?" she queries, stretching a little. "...I saw it once, long long time 'go... but, that's it."

"They're 'Time Bandits' and 'The Adventures of Baron Munchausen. Brazil is the middle one of the three. Time Badnits is about youth, Brazil is about middle age and Baron Munchausen is about old age. They're loosely connected in a *theme* more than they are a continuing story arc." Collin explains, idly.

"Well," Bernie says, quirking a slight smile as she goes on with the inevitable, "now I know. And knowing," she pauses, arching a brow and watching to see if there's going to be another chorus, "...is half th' battle."

There is! Collin chimes right in. "Yo Joe! But that's the way the story goes. I liked all three of them, though Time Bandits was the weakest of the three if you ask me and Brazil the most boring." He winks.

Bernie sighs. "I haven't seen anythin' 'cept that movie we saw th' other day in, like, forever, I swear. 's weird. I oughta see more movies, an' shit."

"You should!" Collin is quick to agree. "You can never see too many movies. I'll select a bunch and we can rent them and watch them. Sound good?"

Bernie grins, and nods. "Sure, works for me. You gotta TV an' VCR, though? 'cause, I don't. An' they don't work so well in th' stereo. I tried," she claims, eyes wide and sincere. Sort of.

Sighing, Collin shakes his head. "And here I had such hopes for you. You still need to learn the art of 'Begging the Walkers', don't you."

Bernie makes a face. "I hate beggin'. Plus, I barely know anya th' Walkers." She shrugs. "Though, I bet I could get Sophia t' host, act'ly. She's pretty cool. Could prolly get a li'l party goin'."

"Now *that's* a good idea." Collin agrees, quickly, leaning forward again. "There's no reason not to do that."

Bernie leans back again, grinning a bit more. "Could be fun, yeah... I mean, they hadda =lotta= couches in there, you could have a buncha people comfy there..." she muses. "An' there's still leftovers from th' moot..."

"Mmmn. This is sounding like a definite plan we must get going. Along with the other idea. You know, the gathering of funny and tricky folk." Collin bobs his head at this, thoughtfully.

"Def'nitely," Bernie confirms, with one firm nod. "I'll talk t' Sophia 'bout it next time I run inta her. Then when it's all set up we c'n, y'know, invite people an' all." She pauses, and grins evilly, "...or I guess we could jus' invite people an' all show up. S'prise!"

Collin starts laughing. "We could, but that's not polite. Sometimes, you *should* be that, at least." He covers his mouth with his hands.

"Well, I'm usu'ly p'lite," Bernie replies, "but it's =funny=." She grins, and points a finger vaguely at him as he laughs. "Admit it, it is." The waiter comes by and drops the check between them on the table as fast as he can, and is gone again.

"Well, of course it is!" Collin agrees. "But we don't want to arrive at a bad time. This is one of those 'must be scouted carefully' things." He snickers a bit more, but manages to stifle it.

Bernie picks up the check, and reads it. "Mmmhmm... I mean, apparently, proper time for parties is when th' hosts elders aren't 'round, so..." She grins, and picks up her jacket and backpack, slipping them back on.

Nodding his head, quickly, Collin says, "This is true, true." He leaves a few dollars in tip for the poor, abused waiter. More than he should actually get, but there none the less. "Let's go?"

Bernie pushes over and out of the booth, and shifts her weight from one foot to the other, stretching a bit. She leaves some money on the table with the bill -- about exactly the cost of the shakes. It all works out in the end. "Yup."

There they go. All paid for. Collin nudges Bernie with an elbow, then calls towards the waiter, "See you later, dude. We're so going to be back. This place has just *awesome* service." Another broad smile that shows his teeth, of course.

And a mirroring one from Bernie; brighter, perhaps, but just as toothy. The poor guy almost wilts at the combined onslaught. She turns and holds the door for the other Ragabash, gesturing broadly through it. "After you."

"No, no. After you." He had to do it, but indeed, he goes through the door anyways after a few seconds of pausing.

Bernie grins, and follows Collin out the doors and into the night.