After the sounds of a bunch of boxes being shuffled around, there's a pair of footsteps drumming down the stairs. Joey appears soon after, finding a corner to sit in, propping his back against the wall.

Bernie, pacing anxiously in the kitchen area, perks up at the sound on the stairs, and steps around to trail Joey toward the corner he's chosen, looking nervous and expectant. Rather like the relatives at the hospital waiting to hear a baby's been born. "....so?" she prompts, hopefully.

Joey looks up quietly, looking ragged. His hat is askew, and there's still a bit of a bloody nose going on there. "Stole the van, but they got one box off first which we, Junior, Anneka, and me, couldn't grab at. The other boxes, the ones in the van, are upstairs. Also found a bag with disks and a sketchbook of the bones in there." He thinks. "Like, everything's there but the skull, arm and leg bones."

Bernie's eyes widen a bit. "Sketchbook? Oh, kick fuckin' ASS! Now I don't hafta send Hood out again." She grins, bouncing once on the balls of her feet, but it dims a little. "So they still have some of it, yeah? Mm... well, prolly they'll put it back in th' high security room, which we got info on th' security now an' we gotta go back to anyhow, so, okay, still that t' do... you okay?" She gestures vaguely to the nose. "Might wanna shift an' fix that up?" she suggests.

Joey shakes his head, utterly becalmed. "Bloody nose'll clear up soon," he says. "See, that third box...Junior was being chased around by some security guards, and before I drove off, I saw one of them fall over the box and smash it to bits. That was all they got out of the truck before I made off with it, and ditched it, and unloaded it, and left the note."

Bernie's eyebrows raise slightly, "...other box got totally smashed t' bits? Hmmm. Might not hafta worry 'bout that bit after all, then... maybe I'll go wander by an' see 'f they cleaned it up, an' stuff." She grins again. "Anyhow we so kick ass. D'ya mind 'f I take th' bag with me? Only, not t' go check th' site out, I mean, just home."

Joey nods quietly. "I don't got a computer, and I ain't putting those disks in the library where we can be tracked. Go nuts."

Bernie's grin turns evil. "I gotta computer. Hers, t' be pr'cise. An' morea her disks, too." She stretches, stifling a yawn. "So, kickass, then," she repeats, "Seems like everythin' went pretty decent, overall. Jus' gotta deal with th' last room, an' maybe check up an' see 'f we missed anythin'..." She's gone off into musing, but snaps back, "...oh, an' figure out what t' do with th' ransoming." She hums softly to herself.

Joey nods, looking very dazed at the moment. "Okay. Your call, I guess."

Bernie pauses, and tilts her head, regarding him. "You =sure= you're okay?"

Joey takes off his hat, looking way out of it. "I think so. Just wound out and shit, you know? Part of me wants to blitz because there's that last box, and I couldn't find a way to get it."

Bernie shrugs. "Parta me wantsta kick things 'cause we couldn't get inta th' last place, where I KNOW they got shit, an' I di'n' have time t' figure it all out with what we found out with th' s'curity. But on th' other hand, we hit ev'rythin' else an' gen'rally fucked 'em up, so, psyched there. Plus it wouldn't help me any with gettin' it done, so. If th' other box's destroyed, well, a'ight... we'll just hafta find out what happened t' it, an' make sure it's outta commission. So, neither half perfect, but both damn good."

Joey nods slowly, his expression dropping. "Half-perfect, that's my job, all the time, I'm thinking." He trails off as he slides down the wall a little.

Bernie shakes her head, and half-smiles. "Fuck, an' I thought =I= was too mucha a perfectionist. Look at it this way, Leda an' co were s'posta be workin' on this, what, like, three fuckin' months? An' zoom, they drop it, we get things handled in maybe a week or so? So maybe we're not perfect, but we're still damn good. Cheer up. Maybe we got nine'y-five percent 'steada a hun'red, but we're =still= settin' th' curve."

Joey looks up blearily. He fumbles in his pockets for a cigarette, finds one and lights it. "What curve?" he asks. "I...well, we needed it done, an' I did the best I could, and I hold myself up too high for really succeeding. It's...a long thing, yeah."

"=The= curve," Bernie explains, "...like, you take a test, straight out grades, it'd be nine'y t' a hun'red, A, eighty t' nine'y, B, seven'y t' eighty, C, an' so on? But if they're gradin' onna curve, th' highest grade's 'n A, even if it's only like seven'y-two percent, yeah? So then th' grades go from there, onna curve. An' that highest mark's th' one that sets it. An' that's us. Maybe someone else coulda done better, but they di'n'. Q.E.D. An' 'zactly. We needed it done an' we did th' best we could. So!" She nods once, as if this settles everything. "...Whatcha mean y' hold yourself up too high for really succeedin'? Like... you require it t' be a hun'red an' ten percent perfect t' be a success, or somethin' else?"

Joey puffs out a small cloud of smoke. "Ok, I didn't get any of that 'til the last part, and I think it's that. We all got something to prove, don't we? Besides being Gnawers."

Bernie runs a hand through her curls. "Okay, I'm not saying not t' aim high, I mean God knows I've been knownta, but if you make it all or nothin', you're just gonna fuck yourself over. 'cause then later you go do another thing, an' you're thinkin', oh, di'n' do perfect last time, better this time, I never do, I suck, an' meanwhile you're sabotagin' yourself an' y'don' even see it. I mean, acceptin' too little an' gettin' overconfident so you stop watchin' out for problems, that's at least as bad, but y'gotta give yourself credit for whatcha =do= manage, or y'end up never managin' anythin', y'know? It doesn't hafta be flawless t' be a victory." She shrugs again, and flashes a quick smile.

Joey is still looking a little blank, as the adrenaline rush of the whole thing seems to have taken a good chunk out of the boy. "I was raised knowing there were two types. The ones that don't make mistakes, and the ones that rot in jail when they do. And us Garou, we run on Renown, and they're harsh on the Gnawers cause we, as a group, can demolish any single one of them even if they got more'n us."

Bernie shakes her head. "Everyone makes mistakes, an' even more everyone has shit come in an' mess with their plans. Only way you're gonna make anythin' foolproof's if you're God, an' I =don't= mean Collin. Question's not whether things'll go wrong sometimes, it's whether you c'n salvage things when they do. I say we can. An' fuck it. They c'n say, oh, you di'n' wave a wand an' make every shred of evidence, every memory, every atom of bone disappear, but y'know what? Fact remains it's gettin' cleaned up an' we're th' ones doin' it, while THEY sat on their high an' mighty =asses=!" She gestures vaguely in the direction of some hypothetical naysayers, and then relaxes back into her usual slight, comfortable slouch. "Anyway. So speakin' of salvage, I'm gonna go reconnoiter an' shit, work on th' remainin' bitsa clean up. You prolly oughta get some sleep, an' shit." She lifts a hand in a light finger wriggle of a wave, and turns, heading for the stairs.

Joey wipes his face off with a free hand. "Yes, ma'am," he says, deflated. "Sleep's the good part, right?"

"Onea 'em!" Bernie calls back cheerfully, before disappearing through the door and into the church proper.