The key jiggles noisily in the lock, followed by a Fianna in dirty work clothes, backpack over his shoulder. He closes the door behind himself and lets the pack slide off his shoulder onto the floor next to the door.

Bernie is curled in the corner of the couch, barefoot, avidly reading a rather thick and heavy-looking book, face mostly cloaked by her curls. On the coffee table is a pizza box, and, beside it, a small but neat stack of twenties. The noise of the entrance drags her attention from the book, and she looks up, flashing the Fianna a smile. "Hey. How goes?"

Matt heads for the fridge, pulling out a Macready's. "Fair. Made an arrow. We order out?" he asks, nodding at the pizza.

Bernie shakes her head, with a slight smile. "Well. Not 'zactly..." She trails off, leaving it hanging a moment or two, and then asks, "...An arrow? An' grab me onea those too, please?"

Matt reaches back in for another Macrady's and brings it to the Gnawer. He sits down next to her on the sofa. "Roight, an Arrow. $100 American. Not 'zactly? Handout, or somefin'?"

Bernie accepts the beer, and pops it open, trying to suppress the smile that tries to grow. "Not 'zactly," she repeats, taking a sip, and then adds, casually, watching him sidelong, "I made it."

Matt raises an eyebrow. "Deliverin' pies? Sure an' ye doan't 'ave a car...?" He pops the top off of the beer, glancing curiously at the stack of bills she's got on the table.

Bernie shakes her head. "Act'ly deliverin' pays better, what with th' tips, Mario says. I'm jus' puttin' 'em t'gether an' bakin' 'em. But, still. There." She gestures toward the money and explains, "First paycheck." The grin escapes, for a moment, before she takes another sip of her beer, and adds, "though that r'minds me, you gotta teach me t' drive sometime. I mean, you gotta license an' all, so."

Matt grimaces. "Um...well, actually, Oi doan't. Not 'ere, anyway. Me license is British still, an' joost a permit. Enough ta drive th' Lambretta. Never needed anyfin' else, really." He takes a pull from his beer. "An ye made what, eighty? Just makin' th' pies? No' bad, books. An' ye doan't deal wif many people. Curse can't be much of a problem, eh?"

"An arrow," Bernie corrects, teasing a little, and then nods. "Yeah, works pretty well. Though, y'know, 'f I run inta somethin' that'll pay more, I'll prolly do that 'stead. Pizza's good, though!" Her brow furrows a little, and she tilts her head. "I coulda sworn you got th' license in Portland, with th' green card an' all. Guess I musta misunderstood. But =still=. 's more'n I c'n do, so."

Matt snorts. "Aye, an' the Orthodontist should loan me 'is bloody jam. Not bloody likely." He digs his wallet out, extracting his green card, his British permit, and a folded, ragged sheet of paper wedged between them. This elicits a frown, and he picks it up, unfolding it and reading, taking another sip from his beer.

Bernie makes a face. "Well, =someone's= gotta show me how. I guess I could bug Kaz..." She looks a little dubious at this idea. Matt's ridden with her. He probably knows why. "Maybe I could track down Nev..." She flips her book shut, carefully fitting a bookmark -- well, a receipt, but it serves -- between the pages to hold her place, and setting the volume on the table. It's apparently titled "The Analytical Engine."

Matt smiles, distracted a little. "well, oi /know/ 'ow. Oi can.. wait a tic." He reads part of the paper more carefully. "Roight. This is a permit of some sort. Temporary. S'posed to 'ave gone to a DMV...Department of Motorized Vehicles?"--he guesses, glancing to her for confirmation--"an' get an' actual license. An' it's expired. Hmm. Add ta me to do list."

Bernie brightens a bit. "Cool beans. 'f we need a car I bet we c'n borrow th' Mystery Machine, or that one Kaz borrows, maybe." She sips her beer again, and leans over to flip the lid of the pizza box up, and gestures toward it, "...dinner?"

"Ooh." The Fianna leans forward, opening the box. "What kind did ye get?"

"Meat," Bernie replies, with some satisfaction, "Pepperoni, sausage, ground beef, chicken, shrimp, ham, an' Canadian bacon." She snags a slice and sits back up, holding it over her lap.

Matt pauses, frowning at the pizza. "Chicken?" He almost withdraws his hand, but he's hungry. What the hell. "Anyway, ovver than my inspiring work ethic, why'dye get a corn?"

Bernie shrugs a little. "Toldja b'fore," she replies, "...t' pay for school, an' t' help pay th' bills here. Y'know, do my part an' all. Don' wanna be, y'know, all sponge-like an' shit." She takes a bite of her pizza, glancing over to the unfinished hints of the future mural on the wall, and washing the mouthful down with some of the beer.

Matt smiles, leaning close to give her an unexpected kiss on the cheek. "Y' doan't 'ave ta, ye know. This place is paid for, except for utilities. Still, if ye want ta pay rent, Oi'll put it on th' mortgage for th' Mickey."

Bernie's cheeks show the hint of a blush, there, before she looks back over to him. "I was act'ly kina =wond'rin'= 'f there was a mortgage on th' place," she remarks.

Matt sets his beer down to give her a so-so waggle with the now free hand. "Not on th' Decadence," he says around a mouthful of pizza. "Th' Fianna 'ouse'll 'ave a sizeable one, though."

Bernie's brow furrows slightly, and she tilts her head. "Fianna're gettin' a house? Like th' one th' Walkers got? What for, cubs an' all?"

Matt nods, alternating between pizza and beer. "Fer cubs, Kin, an' Garou. Ta 'ave a place in th' city. One fing Sierian, Rusty an' Oi agreed on. We need ta get th' tribe togevver an' organized."

Bernie considers this quietly while she demolishes the rest of her slice of pizza, and asks as she picks out a second, "...how t'gether y'all plannin' t' be?"

Matt sighs. "More. Oi doan't know a single kinfolk of me own tribe, ovver than Summer. 'alf the bloody tribe Oi've only seen once, maybe. Once we've got a tribe we'll see about puttin' it ta good use, neh?"

Bernie nods a little, and leans back. "Tribal unity's good an' shit. I jus' mean, like... well...," a pause as she considers how to put it, and gives up on finesse, "you planning on moving in there?" She doesn't bite the pizza yet, just watching him.

Matt shakes his head. "Nah. Oi'll probably 'ave me name on th' place, but Oi like th' Decadence, 'ere. It's 'omey...an' th' comp'ny's nice." He smiles, and steals another kiss.

Bernie smiles, and returns the kiss, drawing it out a little. "...good," she replies, once she's pulled back a tad, "I like it too." She sips her drink, and then starts in on the neglected pizza.

Pizza and beer should surely be followed by cigarettes. Having eaten his fill, Matt lights one, offering to Bernie. "One ovver fing. Oi may be off fer a bit on 'oliday of sorts. Questin'. Dunno when."

Bernie accepts the cig, and shifts in the seat a bit. "Questin' for what?"

Matt smiles enigmatically. "Salmon. Oi'm going inta th' umbra fer a taste o' Salmon, if Oi can find someone ta guide me."

"Y'know," Bernie replies dryly, after a moment, "I'm pretty sure they got salmon at th' supermarket. Short quest."

"Not Salmon of Wisdom, they doan't. S'interestin' story, really." The Fianna exhales, a thin stream of smoke curling away from his lips. He takes another sip of beer, nearly finishing the bottle.

"Always heard fish was brain food. A'ight, tell me th' int'restin' story, then, yeah?" Food being done with, Bernie scootches over to get into story-listening position, which bears a remarkable resemblance to general low-level cuddling.

Matt cradles the Gnawer, careful not to ash on her. "Well," he begins, "A long time a go there was a Feurge by th' name o' Finnegas. 'e 'ad a school for bards near the river Boyne, where 'e fished for salmon. These Salmon ate hazelnuts that fell in th' river, an' in th' nuts was all th' knowledge in th' universe. Finnegas fished in that river fer seven years wif no luck, when Finn mac Cumahl came along."

Bernie snuggles in and listens, nodding a bit, and depositing her own ash in the soda can she'd forgotten to remove from the coffee table earlier. Sometimes it's handy.

Matt continues telling. "Finn served th' theurge well for a year and a day, fishin' every day in th' river wif Finnegas, though th' druid didn't tell 'im whot they were fishin' for. Finally, Finn caught th' Salmon o' Wisdom, th' biggest Salmon ever, an' full o' the knowledge o' th' Universe. Finnegas said to Finn, 'You bring me luck! Take this fish an' cook it, but be careful. Eat none of it, not a crumb.' So Finn did so, preparin' th' Salmon an' grillin' it. As 'e turned it, though, 'e noticed a blister. He pressed 'is thumb down on th' blister, burnin' himself. Immediately 'e puts 'is fumb in 'is mouf ta cool it."

Bernie nods again, solemnly.

Matt sneaks a brief kiss in. "Now Finnegas 'ad wanted th' Salmon, because th' first person ta taste it would be given high knowledge, knowledge of fings unseen, but when Finn served 'im th' fish, Finnegas stared at 'im. Th' boys eyes were shinin', an' th' light on 'is face made th' ol' druid squint. ''ave ye eaten o' that fish?' 'e asked Finn. 'No sir,' Finn says. 'Tell me th' truf,' Says Finnegas. 'Oi didn't eat th' Salmon,' says Finn. 'It blistered, an' Oi touched me fumb to th' blister, an' sucked me fumb ta soothe th' burn.'"

Bernie smiles at the kiss, tilting her head back and her face up toward his a moment before taking another lazy drag on her cigarette and settling down again.

Matt pauses for a drag on his cigarette, ashing into her can. "Finnegas looks all dejected. 'Take th' fish away,' 'e says, 'it's no good ta me now. Ye might as well eat it all. An' ever after, whenever Finn needed more wisdom than 'is own mind offered 'im, 'e sucked on 'is thumb for inspiration. Figure Oi could use some High Knowledge, so Oi want ta find me a Salmon o' Knowledge. Not necessarily /The/ Salmon o' Wisdom, but /a/ Salmon o' Wisdom. Spirits, see, an' Oi 'ope ta convince them ta help me restore my Tribe to Stag's good graces by grantin' me knowledge o' fings unseen."

Bernie thinks a moment. "So you'd know all th' knowledge in th' world? Funky... easier'n studying." She grins briefly. "I'd ask Sepdet. I mean, she's all mega-Theurgely, plus, i'n't her pack's totem ac'tly Salmon?" Pausing, she finishes of her drink, then asks a little softer, "...c'n I come?"

Matt chuckles. "If Oi ate th' one an' only Salmon o' Wisdom, Oi suppose Oi might. Oi just want a little bit, so Oi'm 'opin' one o' 'is smaller brovvers will do th' trick." He furrows his brow, his smile shrinking, but not disappearing completely. "Sepdet's on me list o' people ta talk to. Oi doubt she'd come, but she might know where ta start lookin'. An' as far as ye comin', Oi'd be glad ta 'ave ye, but it's a Tribal Quest, so sure an Oi'll 'ave ta face any o' th' 'ard bit mesel'. Kinda 'opin' it'll stand me well for a Fostern challenge someday."

Bernie nods a little. "A'ight," she replies. "....'m thinkin' I'll prolly try t' be Fostern someday, too. Not for a while yet, though. Gotta learn more an' do more an' stuff, y'know? Be more like Kaz." A pause. "Though, maybe try an' do it a li'l quicker'n that. I dunno." She stretches a bit, and drops what remains of her cigarette into the can.

Matt stretches too, yawning. "Oi want ta as soon as Oi can. Th' tribe /needs/ fostern. Our bloody righ's a cliath." He also dumps his butt into the can. He puts his arms around Bernie, though, loath to get up. "We could just sleep roight 'ere, neh?"

Bernie sets the can aside, and nods a little, curling in closely. "Mmm. Mmhmm, though we might end up bein' sore in th' mornin'. Not that we couldn' jus' take a hot shower or shift an' fix =that= up." She giggles, and adds, "...dyn a drowyd yn flaidd, right?"

"Aye," Matt sighs, pulling them both up and shuffling toward the bed. "That we are. That we are."