Matt putters in the kitchen, unpacking something from cardboard boxes. Guessing by the detruis at his feet, it's a 'George Foreman Grill' whatever that may be, and he got it at Sears. The cliath has also apparently been to the grocers', as there are bags on the table in the kitchenette that smell a lot like meat.

Bernie sets her book on the coffee table, a random receipt carefully inserted to mark her place, and rises from the couch, wandering to the kitchen table, barefoot. Apparently, she's been home a little longer than the Fianna. Peering into the bags, she nods approvingly, and starts pulling food from them to cart the rest of the way to the kitchen.

There's an assertive knock on the front door. Outside, Dizzy and Sophia stand looking terribly bored. They watch the door hopefully, like children staring at an unopened gift.

"Gercha!" the Fianna blurts. "'s Open!" He looks over to the Gnawer, then the door. If it isn't open, it can be at a glance from her.

Bernie glances over her shoulder at the door, first appraisingly, then aggressively. It wasn't; it is. The locks snick back obediently, and she carries the meat into the kitchen to set it down, looking satisfied.

Outside, Sophia glances at Dizzy. She shrugs and puts her hand on the knob, testing it. When it moves easily, she pushes the door in and peeks around. "Bernie?" she asks timidly, looking around.

Dizzy shrugs at her roommate's look, hands in her pockets. It's quite cold out tonight and Dizzy rocks back and forth on her heels, hoping the movement will warm her up a bit.

Matt has just about got this grill-thing figured out. You plug it in--here, and open it--here. Set the temperature--here, and the grease goes--here. He steps back, double checking his work against some diagram for the appliance impaired in a four-language booklet that came in the box. When the door opens, he looks up, to see who will emerge from behind it.

Bernie leans back, looking around the entrance to the kitchen, slightly wary to see who enters. At the sight of the cubs, though, she grins, and lifts a hand to wave to them. A hand still holding raw steak, but oh well. "Hey! C'mon in..."

Sophia glances at Matt, her smile almost nervous. "Mmm... Hi," she says quickly, stepping in and holding the door for Dizzy.

Dizzy looks up, seemingly offering a silent prayer of thanks and steps in. She nods in greeting to the occupants of the Decadence. "Hello."

Matt examines the pair up and down, then hmphs, and turns back to the grill-monster. "Make yerselves at 'ome. My pope's yers, et cetera. Beer in th' fridge, steaks in joost a tic." Closer, he asks under his breath "Books, these are, ah...friends?"

"Jus' flick th' locks shut behind ya, wouldja?" Bernie requests, before leaning in toward Matt and nodding, adding in a murmur, "Walker cubs. I'll intraduce y'all in a sec." Getting rid of the meat, she rinses her hands in the sink, and dries them on her jeans.

Sophia shuts the door behind her, locking it. She turns to Matt and smiles, less anxious now. Holding her chin high and smiling, she steps closer to him and holds out her hand. "Sophia Gudrun, Lights-The-Fools'-Way, or Spot if you need to yell it across the house. Theurge cub of the Glass Walkers." She jerks her head from Dizzy to Matt, indicating that another introduction is in order.

Dizzy looks a bit hurt. So she doesn't exactly remember his name, and they didn't really get past introductions, but that's besides the point. At least she remembers meeting him and that he's a Fianna. She shakes her head negatively towards her roommate and explains, "I was here a couple of nights ago, we met just before you went to bed. I'm Dizzy, remember?"

Matt squints, obviously trying. "Oh, aye," he finally comes up with it. Sophia he offers an introduction of his own: "Matt Fulton, cliath philodox an' Beta o' th' Fianna. Also known as Heals-th'-Breach or Speaks-in-Circles. Be welcome by th' laws of 'ospitality."

"An' you all know me, 'course. I bet you're wondrin' why I called you all here t'day... oh, wait. I di'n'." Bernie remarks cheerfully, pulling the fridge open and looking thoughtfully within. "...anyone want anythin'? An' what brings you by?"

Sophia half-shrugs, raising one shoulder to a cheek and tilting her head. "Dunno... we just got bored... thought we'd stop b... uh... No, don't need anything. Are you having a party or something?" She considers saying, 'Sure, toss me a beer!' but thinks better of it.

Dizzy nods in agreement with what her roommate says, "Things tend to bubblegum up at the safehouse if we don't get out once in a while."

Matt looks over at his room-mate. Are we celebrating? His glance asks. "If ye'd like a party, there is one. Celtic 'ospitality requires the 'ost ta give a guest th' shirt off 'is back if necess'ry. Up ta th' guest ta keep their requests reasonable. Ovverwise, they get a reputation as bad guests, an' no one would invite them in."

Bernie catches Matt's glance, and shrugs. Either way, it's fine with her. She bumps the fridge door shut with her hip, and then leans back against it, crossing her arms lightly across her abdomen. "So, y'know. No 'give me all your money' or 'bring me the rainbow' or anythin'."

Sophia grins at the idea of Celtic hospitality. "This is one of the only places we can escape to when it's dark out... wouldn't want to wear our welcome thin. Is there anything we can do to lend a hand?" She steps toward the kitchen, assuming there must be /something/ she can do.

Looking around, Dizzy can think of something that they could do. Help with the interior decorating of this place for one, but she keeps her comments about this to herself. "Something to do would be nice, even if it's just idle conversation. Being locked in the safehouse is driving me crazy. Luckily, Sophie's now got permission to go out and she can take us with her. I think she's close to her rite."

Matt arches his brow. "An' ye've been locked in yer mickey th' whole time? 'ow many days 've ye slept in lupus? Hunted fer yer Jim?" He looks over to Bernie. "Oi /still/ fink they should 'ave ta spend some time at the Farm'ouse an' on th' Bawn." He pulls a cutting board and knife out of a drawer and trims several steaks. Enough for everyone, it looks like.

Bernie nods a bit, and reaches absently above her head to snag a beer from atop the fridge. "Yeah, though, seem t' recall first time I met Dizzy, she was in lupe... y'know, guys, sit down, make yourselves comfy or somethin', y'don't hafta stand on ceremony."

Sophia nods at Matt cheerfully. "I'm just about to start that stuff. Just a few more days, and I'll be ready. I've already had a lot of practice with lupus, cuz me and the dog who used to be my pet hang out and play and stuff. But yeah, I need to learn to hunt, and I need to learn a lot of theurgic things. Umbra travel, talking to spirits, that kind of thing. The elders just want to make sure we're ready for the responsibility of being where they aren't nearby before they turn us loose. They have their reasons." She starts looking around the kitchen for something to do.

With relief, Dizzy takes a seat. "Well, there's not much to do in the safehouse except practice shifting and talking. I think most of us have got at least those two parts down pretty well."

There isn't really a lot of room in the kitchenette, and Matt is taking up most of it, shuffling from the counter to the grill. With the grace of an absent-minded father at Halloween, he hands Sophia a Guinness, and one for Dizzy, then shoos her into the living room with Bernie.

Bernie knows enough to stay out of Iron Chef Fianna's way when he's cooking. She flops down in the corner of the couch, managing to take a good seat and half of space as she curls her legs up beside her, and makes the top pop off her Guinness. Catching the lid in the air in a practised move, she flicks it onto the coffee table, and takes a sip. "So, anythin' new an'... welll, obviously not excitin', so, anythin' new over in Walkerland?"

Sophia walks out, holding the Guinness gingerly like she's not entirely sure what you're supposed to do with it. "Thanks," she says, heading for the couch. "Well... Um. One of our kin shot one 'a the cubs. And... I got into it with John. Sorta almost challenged him, even though of course cubs can't do that. Um... not too much. Got my clothes bound on, finally," she says, looking as calm as if she'd just given the weather report.

Dizzy motions for Sophia to hand her the extra beer, "There was some excitement a couple days ago as the boys decided to scare John with a CD full of gunshots or something like that."

There's a soft knocking on the door outside.

With his back to everyone, Matt's raised eyebrow can't be seen, only heard. "One o' yer kin /shot/ one o' th' cubs?" He snorts. "Oi'll no' argue wif cuffin' 'em good when they arse fings, but /damn./"

Bernie is about to say something when the knock comes. A rare look of annoyance passes across her face; she just sat =down=, after all. A thought occurs. Cubs! But guests. But hey, cubs. And Sophia's even still standing! She glances to them, and tips her head toward the door, "Onea you be so kind as t'get that for me, wouldja? Oh, an' I c'n open those for ya, 'f y'want."

Sophia hands both beers to Dizzy. "Oh, yeah. She shot him right in the lung. From only a couple feet away. It was a terrible mess. Lots of blood, everywhere. But he kinda deserved it, y'know. He was intimidating another kin, needed to learn why you should leave the kin alone. It was pretty dramatic, till he finally listened to all the people screaming for him to shift. The beating he got the next day for being a little punk hurt him a lot worse." She nods at Bernie and heads to the door, opening it a crack to see who's there.

Both beers? Well, not that Sophie should be drinking anyways. Dizzy holds one beer out to Bernie to open. "Would you, please? I've got my hands full."

The teen age kin is standing there at the front door, one shoulder slumped to the side as his head tilts. The blonde and black streaked bangs are combed back for once and gel'd. He has on loose fitted jeans instead of his typical slacks and a black shirt with a dragon on it. His glasses are replaced with contacts. "Hey.." He says as the door opens, blinking once as he recognizes who it is. "Oh.. um... err.. Dizzy said ya'll were hanging out here tonight, so.. um.. I thought I'd stop by."

Matt looks toward the door and just throws another steak on. "'avin' been th' 'little punk' in question before, Oi...oh 'allo. 'ave a seat. Oi'm Matt, welcome ta me flat. And you are...?"

Sophia curls her lip and opens the door fully, looking significantly less than pleased. "This is Jeremy, the kin who got intimidated by the punk." She forces a smile and steps aside so he can enter.

Bernie nods at Dizzy, flicking a glance at the bottle, but pausing until after Sophia's little introduction. Well. That's all right, then. The lid of the bottle in question bounces off really quite casually before the Gnawer turns her attention back to Sophia. "Thanks," she remarks, flashing the kin a quick smile of welcome.

"Yah.. um.. Hi.." Jeremy softly says as he steps inside hesitantly after catching sight of Sophia's look. "Um.. Jeremy Winters.. Walker kin." Rubbing his cold hands together, he sniffs once at the air, then turns his eyes to Matt, offering a polite, if not nervous smile.

"Thanks. Here you go, Jer," Dizzy says, offering the kin boy the other beer that Sophia gave her. She takes a drink of the recently opened one. "You should be able to handle this," the raggie cub adds with a grin.

Matt smiles, watching to see the cub's reaction to the Guinness. Frequently an acquired taste.

Sophia shuts the door and heads to the couch, sitting down quickly. "So, how about with you? Fight been going well for you lately?"

"Um.. Thanks." Jeremy says as he turns his gaze now to Dizzy, reaching out to take the offered can in his hand. Smiling, he steps up to her side and lets his finger run along the tab, popping it, that is if its a can, or a cap for a bottle.

The couch is getting a little crowded, now, with Bernie and her legs taking up about half of it and the cubs on the other half. Idly, she glances at the kin's beer, and the cap moves beneath his finger; he should find it quite easy to remove, now. Her attention moves on, into the kitchen, and to her packmate. "How'zit goin' in there?"

Dizzy notes with a wry smile, "Almost enough people to constitute a party now."

Matt responds by opening a cabinet and pulling out one, two...five plates down. He brings four to the coffee table, and returns to the grill to stack steaks on the fifth. "Ready, actually. A little beer an' lemon pepper ta improve 'em, but ovver than that, no special flavor. Hope ye like sirloin."

Sophia glances at Jeremy and Dizzy and doesn't sigh bitterly, but it takes concerted effort. She talks about the last thing on her mind, saying, "Food's food, y'know? And meat's the best food, no matter what it is. Steak's a whole lot better than what we usually end up cooking. Most of the time, someone orders pizza. Gets old after a while. I look forward to tracking and hunting my own... never tried it that way before." She folds her hands, waiting patiently.

Matt returns with his own steak and plate, sitting on the floor and leaning against Bernie's legs. He's brought utensils--knives, forks, that sort of thing.

Bernie reaches down and messes up the spikes of Matt's hair, apparently mostly to get his attention; she points to that portion of couch the parts of her legs he isn't leaning against are taking up, and cocks her head at him, in question. Probably 'want me to move them so you can sit here?'.

"I think I'm going to order a cookbook or something and start learning to cook. Pizza and ramen is getting old quickly," Sophia's roommate notes, taking another drink of the beer.

Sophia sniffs the steaks and smiles, her mouth watering in anticipation. "Uh-huh," she agrees distractedly.

Matt scrambles up a little, into the spot Bernie clears for him. Much better. Plate on his lap, he continues to eat. "cookin's a good skill ta learn. Though as a theurge I'd say it'll be doubly important ta learn ta hunt."

Bernie shifts a little to renegotiate comfiness, and then snags a plateful of the food herself, nodding agreement. "Pers'nally I gen'rally like things better cooked an' all, but still. Oughta have th' skills."

Dizzy looks at the bottle in her hand and then sets it on the table. "Is there any ice in the fridge?" she asks.

Satisfied, Sophia takes a plate for herself, cutting up the meat in too-big chunks and grinning as she chews. This lovely activity requires far too much concentration for her to speak; instead, she just grins.

"Ice?" Matt shrugs. "In th' freezer. As Oi unnerstand, though, sometimes a theurge as ta hunta spirit ta make it do 'er biddin', so the skill may come in 'andy fer more than feedin' yersel'."

Dizzy stands and walks into the kitchen, first locating a glass, and then opening the freezer and filling it with ice. She returns and, instead of crowding the couch again, kneels on the opposite side of the coffee table. She fills her glass with Guinness and starts on the steak, cutting small pieces and chewing on them slowly.

Matt just stares at Dizzy's glass for a second. Then he shakes his head in disbelief. "Fookin' septics." he mutters.

Sophia tilts her head at Matt, taking a moment to swallow. "You can make spirits do things for you? Don't they get mad at you for bossing them around? /I'd/ be mad, if some little chick just came up to me and told me to go catch her dinner. Prob'ly burn her eyes right outta her head, I'd be so mad. Well, if I was a spirit, anyway."

Bernie tries, very hard, but not very successfully, to hide a grin at Matt's reaction. It may have been expected, but it's still funny. She digs in to her meat, washing the bites down with properly warm Guinness, and merely comments, "'s good, Matt. Sometime y'gotta show me how."

Dizzy blinks at the Fianna. "Huh? What's wrong? The beer was a little warm. Not enough time in the fridge."

Matt shrugs. "Some are smaller, some are bigger. Bigger ones, ye do fings for. Smaller ones power fetishes, talens an' stuff." He glances to Bernie. "What, th' steak? That grill's pretty neat. Ye just put th' meat on an close th' lid.

Bernie giggles, and shakes her head at Dizzy. "Not in th' fridge at =all=. Ruins th' beer." Her brow furrows a little. "Steven said 'zactly how, at one point, but. 's not =s'posta= be cold. Like... like gazpacho soup isn't s'posta be hot."

Sophia frowns a little. "The only spirits I've ever met were an Onion named Parappa and, even though I didn't actually meet them, I saw some fire spirits. The Onion guy was really nice, even though he threw stuff at me. Y'know. He didn't mean anything by it. Those fire spirits, though... they looked pretty spiteful. Like they'd just love to eat someone up for a snack."

"Yeah, and gazpacho is na-a-sty," Dizzy retorts, frowning.

Matt stifles a yawn, and begins to drift off on the couch, first bobbing his head, then closing his eyes. Must have been a long, rough shift.

Bernie shakes her head. "Wouldn't know; never had it. But there's still a right way anna wrong way..." Matt's slumping startles her, and she laughs softly as she notices he's asleep. "Yeesh... 'scuse me a sec?" Setting her plate aside, she gets up, and shifts to Glabro, the better to carry her packmate off to his bedroom, where he can sleep in peace.

Sophia, who sleeps rarely, is surprised by all of this. She sputters for a few seconds and then just returns to her plate, chewing contentedly.

Dizzy shrugs, she's never had it either, but just the thought of cold tomato soup disgusts her. She continues eating, looking over at her roommate for a second, then back to her plate.

Bernie returns, after a few moments, back in breed form and dusting off her hands lightly on her jeans. She plops back in her spot on the couch, reclaiming the legroom as well, and gets back to demolishing the remains of her dinner.

Sophia gobbles up the last bite and holds the plate in her lap, waiting for the others to finish. "So. Um... how's life with you, Bernie?"

Dizzy takes longer to finish, as she's attacking her steak pretty slowly, pausing to fill up her glass again as she empties it.

Bernie finishes and sets the plate aside, stretching. "Mmm, 'sa'ight. Gotta job. Got school startin' soon...." She pauses, considering. "Got a few other things t' work on, too. Good, all in all."

Sophia takes her plate, as well as Bernie's and Matt's, to the kitchen. "I'm glad to hear that. So... you go to SCCU, then?"

Dizzy continues eating, perking at the talk of college. She looks over at Bernie, in anticipation of the answer.

Bernie sips her beer, grinning, and nods. "Yup! As of, like, a month from now, when fall s'mester starts. Oughta be fun." She sounds quite pleased about it.

Sophia comes back from the kitchen. "I'm not looking forward to going back to school, to be honest. I'm not done with hgihschool yet, and I really hated it when I was there before. I wanna get a fake diploma or something, but I don't know how."

Dizzy smiles, glad to know that it is possible for Garou to lead normal lives. She indicates her roommate with her fork, "You could take the G.E.D. if you really feel that you're ready for college."

Bernie nods. "'s what I did," she agrees, "costs some, but it's easy. An' I di'n' see much point in bein' stuck in a classroom six hours a day when I c'n jus' move on t' a more flexible schedule, y'know?"

Sophia scowls. "Well, anyway. I've heard about it, and it doesn't sound hard. But look... we should go soon. It's getting late."

Dizzy still has a small portion of steak on her plate, but takes it and her empty glass to the kitchen. She returns to dispose of the empty bottle of Guinness.

Bernie casts a slightly wry glance toward the room in which she deposited her flatmate. "Y'don't say..." She finishes off her beer, and pushes up from the sofa. "'s nice t'have ya, then. Feel free t' drop by 'gain, yeah? An', Dizzy, th' offer on auspice things still stands, 'course."

Sophia grins at Bernie and shrugs. "Keeping track of the time was never one of my strong points." She moves toward the door slowly, waiting for Dizzy. "Thanks for having us... Thank Matt-Rhya for me when he wakes up, Ok?"

Bernie returns Sophia's grin and shrug with a set of her own. "'s fine, not a problem. I don' hafta get up 'til like noon t'marra anyhow, 'less I want to. So!"

Dizzy take her keys out of her pocket, "I'm ready." She turns to Bernie, "Yeah, thanks. For dinner _and_ for the offer. I'll be sure and call you or something when I'm ready for more new moon specific training."