At first glance, this run-down efficiency seems barely lived in. The door opens onto a nearly empty living room, painted institutional white and containing only a lime-green couch with fuzzy yellow pillows and an oak coffee table. It is reasonably spacious, and is obviously intended to be the main room of the flat. The current light fixture is a hanging industrial fluorescent, which gives the room a slightly unhealthy, antiseptic feeling, unmitigated by the ancient blinds covering the windows. The left wall from the door shows signs of a mural in progress, though the faint pencil lines leave the intended design still unclear.
To the right upon entering is a small kitchenette, with barely enough space to stand between the stove and refrigerator on one side and the sink on the other. A boom-box style radio relaxes on the counter, broadcasting soothing celtic music. Just above the sink is what little cabinet space can be had. There is a small dining table and chairs right outside the kitchenette, defining an eating space.
Just past the kitchenette, still on the right, is the bathroom, then both bedrooms. Between them is a small coat closet, empty except for a surely breeding collection of wire hangers. The door to the closet is perpetually ajar, as it doesn't seem to want to latch properly.
Matt waits until they get back to the Decadence, and gets a beer from the fridge. He sits on the couch, looking fairly serious.
Bernie sets her backpack down fairly gently as she enters, tossing her jacket somewhat less gently atop it. "...Tribal elder, huh?" she asks, grinning, as she gets a drink herself. The smile dims a bit as she turns and sees the seriousness. She cocks her head at him as she approaches. "...'s wrong?"
Matt nods. "Nuffin' /wrong/ really. S'just, y'know 'ow we ought ta be careful wif me being an 'alf-moon?" He looks pained, and takes a long drag on the beer. "Make me Fianna elder an' double it."
Bernie drops onto the cushions with some force, causing an audible plumf from the beleaguered stuffing, and pops her own beer open, taking a sip. "...a'ight," she says, quiet and slow, taking that at the value of the words, "...I'm all over careful. Carefulness is okay..."
Matt blushes a little. He leans forward to give her a reassuring kiss, though he quickly returns to conversation. "Oi'm jest finking about findin' some furniture fer that bedroom." he waves toward the 'spare' room. "Mebbe keep yer fings in there, y'know. Fer appearances." He smiles a little and winks. "Mebbe anovver bed... fer variety."
Bernie smiles a little in return, and ducks her head a moment. "....yeah, 's a good idea," she agrees, thoughtfully, and shifts position on the couch so she can lean against him a bit. "...you still wanna host new cublings in here? 'cause, if so, we oughta figure out what we wanna do then, too, I s'pose..."
Matt looks down at the couch between them. "Sofa 'ere ought ta be adequate, if yer 'avin' ta use 'your' room. Or we could not bovver, an' let 'em stay at th' farm'ouse. Fer /my/tribe, I'd ravver 'ave 'em out closer ta th' bawn anyway."
Bernie nods, thinking about it, and grins, a hand creeping over to take one of his. "...yeah, s'pose that'll do. 'f y'want, 'til we get holda stuff for th' other room, we could always put my sleepin' bag somewhere, y'know?" she offers.
Matt gives her hand a squeeze. "Aye, that we could do. Make it so, an' meet me in my chambers immediately." He grins, finishing his beer and setting the empty on the coffee table.
Bernie giggles, and releases his hand to give the snappiest salute she can muster. "Right away, captain!" she declares, and pushes up from the sofa, sipping her drink as she heads into the spare room to set things up.
Matt slips into what is now the 'master bedroom,' and undresses. He slips between the sheets and waits, only the night-table lamp on.
Bernie pops in and out between the rooms a couple times, gathering proper window-dressing, and losing the beer at some point along the way. After five or ten minutes, she returns, closing the door behind her, and leans against it. "Locks," she remarks, "...an' mirrors." With that somewhat cryptic remark, she starts getting ready for bed as well, almost silhouetted in the dim light.
Matt mmm hmms, comfortingly, more listening to her voice for the sound than the content. He wraps an arm around her when she gets in, and turns out the light. quickly he drifts off, muttering. "tribal... bloody... elder....christ."