Marcus is sans cab this time, walking along the edge of the park from the direction of first street. As he passes the benches, he happens to glance up and notice the occupant of one of them.

Just like last time, Bernie's lying on her stomach on the bench with her book and flashlight. Unlike last time, however, she's lying flat, and her head is resting on an arm curled around the book. The other arm, holding the light, dangles.

Marcus crooks his head, unable to be sure if this is indeed Bernie--not under the still-dark, grey skies of this early morning. Nonetheless, he veers toward the benches in order to do just that. Once he gets up close, and he can see it is her, he starts grinning, relaxing a little. "Hey!" he calls, to wake her up.

At first, it seems like she's going to ask for five more minutes, mom... the torch hand makes a slight wave through the air, and an unitelligible but definitely complaining noise is muffled by the arm her head's against. Then, though, the cold sinks in, and she lifts her head, blinking wearily, "...wha?"

Marcus makes his way around the bench so he's standing over her--looming, really--and that grin remains. "Hey," he says, much more gently. "Fall asleep?"

Bernie pushes herself upright, and regards the book, then the dimming torch in her hand. "...apparently," she replies, a bit dryly, and grins, flicking the flashlight off as she stretches, stifling a yawn. "Oops. Damn, gonna hafta get s'more bat'ries now... hi." A quick look at the surroundings, "..what time's it?"

As she pulls herself upright to a sitting position, Marcus decides to steal the half of the bench previously occupied by her feet. He sniffs at the chilled, early morning air. "5:30, maybe? I'm not sure. I was just walking home."

Bernie mmms, closing the book, slipping it and the flashlight into her bag, and only then running her fingers through her curls to neaten them a tad. "5:30? Yuck. Late shift, huh?" She pauses, a thought sifting upward through her consciousness, and glances sidelong at her companion, eyeing him thoughtfully for a few moments, almost as if looking for something.

Marcus's expression sours. "I was, but the cab quit on me," he says, leaning back. "So I walked up to the store to buy myself some grub, only they were closed. So basically it's been a bust of a night."

Bernie swings her bag up from the slightly damp ground, and rummages in one of the pockets, coming up with a few various types of candy, several hostess cakes, and a few slim jims and cheese and crackers, all wrapped. She proffers the bounty to her companion. "They don't come get you or somethin' if th' car dies?" she queries.

Marcus's expression brightens, and he offers Bernie a very grateful if somewhat amused look. Taking one of the hostess cakes, he pops it open and eats half with one bite, shaking his head in answer to the question. "Na I'm a contractor. Which means I own the car and I deal with everything about it. Gas, repairs, etc. all Columbia does is route customers to me. I pay a fee for that, too. But they got a good name. Makes me money. Cept when the car dies."

Bernie mmms, and nods, selecting a HoHo herself. "Gotta suck a lot when it's broken then," she comments, unwrapping the treat and taking a bite. "So d'ya drive th' taxi 'round when you're off duty, too, then? Like to th' store an' all, or if y'took a road trip t'," she pauses a moment, cocking her head to think a moment, "New York?"

Marcus nods, finishing the snack and licking some of that white, creamy goodness off his lips. his answer comes nonchallantly. "Used to live in New York. Yup. Drove it all the way out here."

"Really?" Bernie queries, finishing off another bite of the snack, "D'ja ever go t' th' Metropolitan Museum of Art? Gonna go there someday." The rest of hte cake disappears swiftly.

Marcus's eeys flicker briefly with something obviously nostalgic--and apparently painful, from the look of it--but it disappears quickly. "Yeah," he says, "I been there. I had an artist..friend."

Bernie's head tilts a bit again, and she nods, finishing her bite before she replies, "'s th' setting for one of my fav'rite books, 'swhy I asked. Sorry t' bring up memories..." She glances around, almost as if she expects eavesdroppers, and changes the subject, "...so my friend Max was saying how I oughta meet you, th' other day. So 'course I told her I had..." She watches him as she gathers the bits of trash together.

Marcus shrugs, shaking his head as if to say 'no big deal' at the apology. He tucks the little bit of trash from his snack into his coat, along with his hands to keep them warm. He seems about to ask what her favorite book /is/, but her subject change brings him up short. "Max?" he says, surprised and grinning again. "How do you know Max?"

"Very well," Bernie replies flippantly, and then grins herself, "Well, no, not really, but it was my favourite answer. She an' I are...." a pause, and a slight furrowing of her brow as she considers, "...some people'd say cousins, kinda. She said you're r'lated to us." She continues to watch him, slightly wary.

Marcus seems to get what Bernie says right away, though his reaction is still a little surprised. He laughs, turning slightly in his seat so he's more facing her than facing straight ahead. "No shit? Really?"

Bernie nods, grinning again and relaxing slightly. "Yeah, well, 'swhat they tell me anyhow... hey, wanna see what she gave me? 'scool..." She leans down and rummages in the bag again briefly, pulling out a magic 8-ball, and displays it as if it were a crown treasure.

Marcus chuckles, quietly amused at the gift. "What's she call you, by the way?" Apparently he's well versed in Max's need for nicknames.

Bernie thinks about that a moment, and then laughs, "Well... mostly seems like I'm She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but judgin' form th' other day I'm thinkin' she musta settled on 'Little Mama'. Which makes me wanna not step on her blue suede shoes... wha's she call you?"

Marcus's smile is small, even a little shy. "Go," he answers, "among other things. I ain't exactly sure why. Curling his shoulders in, he looks a little cold. "I ain't got much food, but there's some hot cocoa mix back at my place, if you want to come warm up a bit?"

"Makes sense t' me," Bernie responds, and then nods, "an' sure, why not? Y'got marshmallows?" Another quick grin.

Marcus gets up from the bench, happy to be getting the blood flowing in his extremeties agani. "It does?" he asks, getting ready to set out once Bernie's set. Holding out his hand, he offers to help carry her bag.

Bernie zips the pockets her pack as she stands, and refuses the offer with a quiet, "Thanks," as she swings it onto her shoulder in a practiced move. "Yeah, sure... dunno if it's what -she- had in mind, 'course, but 's what y'do all th' time, right? 'least when you're workin'..."

Marcus thinks about that and then agrees. "S'pose you're right. Heh." He falls into line with her, walking slowly. "So, you're like a 'cousin' of hers. Does that mean your on the mostly brawny, long-haired side of the family, or the other side?"

"Always long-haired," Bernie replies, a tad thoughtfully, giving her curls a slight shake in illustration, "occasionally brawny..." One might notice that she didn't drop any letters or syllables for the moment.

Marcus looks pleased by this. "Wow," he says, continuing the walk, "Thas cool. I've only met a few from here, on that side of the family. Max and Kaz, mostly."

Bernie breaks into her grin again, and nods, a tiny bounce entering her step now that she's more awake, "Kaz's th' one who found me an' taught me th' rules... her an' Yi. Seems t' me like there's a buncha us... reg'lar fam'ly reunion... I've only met a few on th' -other- side of th' fam'ly, m'self."

Marcus nods, adding. "I ain't met many of them, either. Guess I been keeping to myself a lot. As he rounds the street onto Bridge, he points to his building. the cab is sitting out front, looking very tired. "That's it."

Marcus leads the garou up the steps of Holland Place and down the hall to 1C. A jingle of keys preceed his opening the door, and he steps out of the way to let her in. "It's not much, but the heat works. For now, anyway." Shutting the door behind them, he makes his way to the kitchen.

"Thassa step up on th' park," Bernie remarks cheerfully, following. The backpack slides neatly down from her shoulder to her hand and gets deposited not too far inside on her way. "Somethin' isn't right with th' thermostat there..."

Marcus chuckles quietly. Het gets out a small pot and some milk, and some nestle cocoa packages--the kind with the minimarshmellows inside. He begins heating things up and finding two coffee mugs, before turning back to Bernie. "Make yourself at home. Anyone in the family's welcome here. I need to meet the head dog, but I haven't had much of a chance yet."

Bernie leans against the counter, watching the proceedings, and smiles at the sight of the marshmellows in the packets. "Woo... best kinda cocoa... I don' think I've met 'im yet either... or her, I dunno, no one's said, really. Mostly people've been too busy with all th' holiday an' winter stuff t' do much in th' way of teachin' an' all for a month or so. 'sokay though. C'n I help with anythin'?"

Marcus pulls his coat off once the cocoa starts heating up. His tank top shirt shows off his Gnawer/kin tattoo easily, and he smiles. "Na, just gotta wait for it to heat up. All I got to eat's bread, but we can make toast if you want. So, you're a cub? Like Max, then?"

"A toast!" Bernie exclaims, with a grin, and then nods, "Yeah, I'm a cub. Like Max in sev'ral ways, yup. Maybe we'll get t' go on our Rites t'gether, I dunno. She's been one longer though."

Marcus takes the cocoa off the burner and pours some into each mug, stirring lightly. He puts the marshmellows in last, so they don't all melt right away. "How are you alike in several ways/" He makes little effort to hide his interest in Max, though his cool demeanor may aswage any overt interest beyond curiousity.

Bernie shrugs a little, not appearing to find it particularly odd. "Well, we're both raggie Gnawer cubs, t' start with. An' we've got good taste in nifty plastic artifacts." Flash of another grin, and she glances at the steaming mugs.

Marcus slides Bernie's mug over to her, smiling a little. "Yeah. Max likes her toys." He comes back around the counter and moves toward the couch, holding his mug with both hands as if warming them through the ceramic mug. Sitting, he sips tentatively. "How you liking the life so far?"

Bernie takes it carefully, and lifts the mug, inhaling the aroma a few moments while it cools down slightly and she follows to the couch. "'s pretty good, act'ly. Get on better with th' people here than I useta home, at school an' all... learnin' nifty stuff... could be lots worse."