Homey is the first word to come to mind when looking at the farmhouse's kitchen. Dark, wood-paneled wainscoting covers the walls to about waist height, dark beige wallpaper continuing to the ceiling. Twin refrigerators occupy the north wall, facing the large six-burner stove on the south. The kitchen counter runs the length of the eastern wall, broken only by the double-basin sink. Cabinets run above and below the counter and a twin-pane window is set in the wall above the sink. A small pantry is set into an alcove alongside the refrigerators, presumably holding the deep freezer as well as shelves of dry goods.
Some twelve feet above the floor, a large chandelier hangs from the ceiling, lighting the dining room and casting long shadows over the bar to the kitchen. A long table occupies the center of the dining room, three chairs setting along each side, and one on each end. On the west wall, a large window looks out on the trees alongside the western pasture. Set into the north wall is a large cabinet, its glass doors closed on shelves containing a full compliment of fine china and glassware as well as a few decorative nicknacks. On the east, a wide bar separates the dining room from the kitchen.
An opening in the southern wall allows passage to the front entryway of the house, while a sliding glass door in the kitchen opens to a clearing behind the house.
Matt putters around the kitchen, scrounging for food. Without Megan, Brian, Stephen or Matt around, the Guinness supply has dwindled, surely.
Bernie seems a little put out by this, looking in the spot she left them in the pantry, in the fridge, and even where the other drinks are semi-hidden. "Bet Cam drank it all," she remarks, giving up, and sits lightly on the edge of the table.
Matt frowns. "Well, /that's/ bloody annoying. Oi'd 'ave picked some up if Oi'da known."
Bernie shrugs. "We c'n always pick some up an' bring it now we DO know, right? Meanwhile..." She leans forward, trying to peek into the fridge, "..looks like milk, soda, fruit juice or whiskey. Or some funky combination thereof, I s'pose."
Matt finds some potatoes in the fridge, and onions, and sausage. setting a skillet on the stove, he turns on the eye and busies himself with the cutting board and a knife. "Aye. Sure, an' Oi'm s'posed ta be keepin' me minces on th' place in Megan's absence, too. Guess that includes makin' sure h' little ones are fed proper."
Bernie nods, dangling her feet, sitting on the edge of the table completely, now. It must be well-balanced, as it doesn't tip. "Yeah, though makin' th' cubs learn t' cook counts, I 'spect. Y'wanna hand with anythin'?"
Somewhere outside, there's the crunch of gravel, the steps of someone strolling along like silence wasn't a concern, soft enough that whoever's singing out there, bright and clear, must be small enough that the loudest steps don't amount to much. "--Sure as th'sunrise it don't matter th'shape of th'hat--" Shoes clompity-clomp on the short stairs and the door bursts open! "--'t all fits t'gether inna fam'ly picture an' every wall's got room for th-- Hey, hi!" There's Anneka, skinny and wide-eyed, her hair tumbled about her face in a curly mane.
Matt looks up, raising an eyebrow. Glancing at Bernie, he gestures with the spatula to indicate Anneka. "Oi fink this one's one o' /yours./"
"Annalicious!" Bernie exclaims, sitting up a bit, with a bright grin. "How ya doin', oh cubly one?"
Anneka's shoes scuff on the floor as she darts towards Bernie, arms spread wide. "Hiiiiiii!" She laughs. "I'm okay!"
Matt smiles, amused, and finishes chopping onions and sausages.
Bernie squeezes the cub, hugging without abandoning her perch. "Whatcha been up to, lately? Hey, I broughtcha back somethin', only I don't have it handy..."
Anneka hugs the Ragabash back, tight as she can muster and beams. "Hi, Matt!" She wriggles a bit, reaches up to brush her hair from her eyes. "Cool." A pause, then. "Well, I d'no. A lot. I've still got some sparklers left, but-- They're back at th'church, 'cause I didn' want t'get 'em wet. An' a wolf carryin' sparklers around in her mouth'd look real weird."
The smell of cooking sausage rises pungently from the pan and Matt looks up in thought. He steps to the fridge and gets out some butter, which he spoons into the pan. And onions.
Bernie grins, nodding. "Yeah, festive predators are kina rare in most people's schemea things... DAMN, that smells good. Now I'm hungry. How much longer?" The last bit, of course, directed to Iron Chef Fianna.
Anneka turns about to look at Matt. Well, the pan that Matt is occasionally holding. She grins, sniffs once. "Yup!" That could be an answer to several things. "Me 'n Joey bought a buncha sparklers." She leans back against the table, and Bernie as well, looks totally thrilled to be right here and now. "Hey, th'run here's been gettin' easier. I think I'm growin' muscles." She holds her skinny arms out, glances at them. "Yup, muscles everywhere."
Bernie scruffles the cub's hair, and grins. "Very cool. Def'nitely muscles, there." She glances at the watch on her backpack, and makes a face. "I'm gonna go see 'f I c'n track down 'lish, drag her back for food. Y'mind?" She hops off the table, starting for the door.
Anneka shakes her head. "Nope. I'll--" She looks at the food. "Put stuff in th'fridge!"
"Sounds good!" the Ragabash replies, disappearing through the sliding door and out toward the woods, "Back in a li'l, save some for me!"