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On The Roof Again
Location
The roof of the library is flat and expansive. In places it sags slightly, tending to collect damp patches or pools in those areas, but despite this damage it still seems solid. A three foot wall runs along the edge, ending in small extensions or cupolas at the corners. Wrought iron decorative spires sit atop these. Someone's brought up a few aluminium and plastic lounge chairs, a few plastic lawn tables, and one large, round patio lawn table with four matching chairs and an expansive sun umbrella through its center. The vast expanse of St. Claires landscape can be viewed here--or at least most of Regan Avenue. The larger buildings of downtown dwarf the old library and seem to pull it humbly back to earth and close it in. Dominating the available view is the old cathedral across that street. every night it thrums and throbs as the Temple comes alive in stark contrast to the silent, vigilant, and vacant library.
Descriptions
Compact is the word for him: wiry, maybe 5'6" in his beat-up black combat boots, with a sense of compressed energy and imminence like a coiled spring -- or a cocked gun. Never quite still for long, balance flowing through the balls of his feet. There's a striking intensity to his narrow blue-green eyes, the colour contrasting with his fair skin and spiky copper hair; just below the left is what at first appears to be a faint mole, but closer inspection reveals as a small, long-healed scar. His features are appealing, with high cheekbones and a good jawline, but it's the confident mien and roguish smile that most often seem to draw people in.
He's in old black jeans with a rip in one knee and the cuffs half walked off, and his lack of shirt displays a small collection of tattoos. On his left arm, just below the shoulder, is a parachuting rat holding a crowbar and wearing a pair of glittery-gold star-shaped glasses; on the right side of his abdomen, about where the waistline of pants sort of act as the ground, are a pair of rats with a mortar aimed up toward the left. Both tattoos are all in black (aside from the glasses) and resemble spray-painted stencils. His back is covered by a phoenix rising from flames, smoke, and ash, in suitably fiery colours and a completely different style. A reasonably close-up look reveals a number of scars worked into the design of that one. There's a couple leather-and-bead bracelets on one wrist and a pair of dogtags on a length of ball-chain around his neck; his nails were apparently painted black some time ago, since they're starting to show chips. Late teens, most likely, and when he speaks it's in a mellifluous, southern-accented baritone voice.
Thick honey-blonde hair, styled in a poofy set of curls, rings this pretty blue-eyed young woman's head. She's in her late teens, and her hair's currently left down, though it's occasionally pinned up. She stands about five and a half feet tall, and is a little on the thin side of things, though not to an extreme. She dresses mostly in informal styles, from ripped jeans and tank tops to the occasional sundress.
Currently, she wears the former, her black tank top emblazoned with a large sequined red heart, and her jeans so ripped as to be nearly indecent. About half of the heart's sequins are missing. Her feet are clad in red strappy lightly-heeled sandals that have seen better days. She wears little in the way of jewelry, just a black wooden bracelet, a stainless steel and rhinestone mood ring, and (probably fake) gold earrings. When she speaks, a fairly thick Southern accent is evident.
Gallery
Felix is relaxing on the roof in the pleasant late-evening air, with a smoke and a beer but without his shirts. Well, no, they're here, tucked into the side of his waistband, but still, close enough. He looks... thoughtful. Possibly someone should worry. Or get a fire extinguisher just in case.
Lilah is due to be home now-ish, or in about a half hour actually, though he'd know she was getting a ride home with a co-worker. And here she is, early. Her hair's wet, and she's already changed out of her work clothes. In their place, she wears something similar to the @desc, though the shirt's different... it's a pink one, and in darker pink and white lettering, it says, 'THE SECRET OF ART IS LOVE,' and below that, 'Antoine Bourdelle - Rock Legend.' Probably it's fairly hard to read the bit at bottom, and maybe even some of the rest-- it's a shirt that's seen some wear and tear, and in fact has a small hole on her right side, barely noticeable. She heads on up the stairs to the roof, and smiles as she spots him, thoughtful-looking or no. He's probably heard her coming up, and so she makes no attempt to surprise him. Instead, she heads right for him, waggling her fingers in a hello.
Felix does glance over at the opening of the door, and gives her a slow, wide smile as she emerges. "Hey, doll. C'mere and join me." He gestures to his lap, and reaches down beside the lounger to pull a beer from the paper bag there to offer her. Since he doesn't think about the fact that he currently has the cigarette in that hand at the time, it's pure luck he doesn't set the bag on fire in the process. "Have an okay day?"
Lilah tucks a lock of that wet hair behind her ear, and heads over toward him, smiling warmly. "Easy as pie day. Got to come home early-- not many people there t'day. We're gonna be slammed Saturday, they warned me, but it ain't no thang." She does indeed come over there and join him, settling easily into his lap and accepting the beer. She kisses his cheek, then his lips, albeit briefly. "How 'bout you?"
Felix returns the kiss, and pulls her in for another one, much less brief, although not =quite= starting something. Yet. "Good. I like you havin' easy days. Did you BRING me the pie?" he teases, and makes a show of looking her over for possible hidden pastry. "...I had a pretty okay day, I reckon. Explored a li'l. Joined that pack." Felix essays to look and sound entirely and equally casual about all of that last remark.
"No pie for you," Lilah says mockingly, as though she's intentionally denied him said pie, and blushes as he looks her over. She starts to nod as she hears about his day. Pretty okay. Explored a li'l. Joined a-- WAIT WHAT? One can just see her brain full-stop on that one. Then her eyes widen, and she wraps her arms around his neck, looking thrilled. "Ya did? How? W-- And-- I'm so happy for ya!" Which she endeavors to show him, via congratulatory kiss.
The grin escapes about the time her arms wrap around his neck, bright and wide, and Felix wraps his arms around her waist, more than happy to take the kiss of congratulations as his due. "I did," he confirms afterward, "...came up here for dinner, and after I was hangin' out decidin' what to go do next. And who should show up but, well, alla them. Asked did I wanna go meet OhNo -- that's the pack totem. Coyote. Said he wanted to meet me, an' with all the shit goin' down, now was a good time to get on board. So I figured... well, what the hell?"
Lilah laughs lightly, a happy lilt to her voice, and kisses him again, briefer this time. And then a kiss to his cheek. And his neck. "'What the hell?'" she echoes, with another laugh, and shakes her head with amusement. "I'm so glad you got to meet 'im, an' it went so well!" Her fingertips stroke over his cheeks, and then down his chest, lightly touching the skin. "Tell me anything ya wanna, I'd love to hear all 'bout it." But not until AFTER she kisses him again.
Felix is down with every one of those kisses, and the touching as well. He puts out what's left of his cigarette, to get it out of the way; it was pretty much done anyhow. "Well. We went over to the other side, had a proper kinda introduction an' all, and he said 'You got ten seconds to impress me, kid,'" it's not a great imitation, but at least it's clear it is one, "and starts countin' down. Which I wasn't quite expectin'. Oh, did I mention Justin's startin' a new fad of ignorin' pants and just headin' out in boxers, by the way? I don't think it's gonna catch on. So! I thought about it a sec. We're here, basically, 'cept over there there's no chairs or shit, an' I can't get any of the shit in my pockets, so it's kinda tricky, figurin' out what I got a Coyote spirit's gonna be impressed with."
Once he's put the cigarette out, Lilah threads her fingers with his, at least on the cigarette-holding hand, if not the other. "I think it'd catch on if'n YOU started it," she drawls. Her brows lift as she hears the 'ten seconds' bit, her eyes widening. "Oh my lord. I'd faint!" She refrains from demanding to know what he chose to do; she can be annoyingly patient at times. Except when it comes to kissing, apparently, since she gives him another quick peck to tide her over.
"Better chance, anyhow," Felix agrees, giving her his very best cocky grin. It's... pretty damn good, frankly. "Well, I admit it took 'til eight for me to get a decent idea. I told him 'bout the cartwheel yesterday. Partly 'cause it was funny. But mostly 'cause Justin was standin' right down near the corner, an' tryin' it again let me end up right over by him so I could slide down off the wall on the =right= side at the end of it and take his boxers down with me." Another grin, of course. "'parently that worked for OhNo."
Oh come ON. Cocky grins REQUIRE kisses. Apparently. It's a damn thorough kiss, because how dare he, I ask you! Lilah doesn't *entirely* forget herself, as she's likely to be the one to (eventually) pull away, dazed but still dying to hear the rest. Her brows lift again, and then she lauuuuughs once he gets to the boxers coming down. She strokes his cheek lightly, shaking her head, and asks, "Just what'm I gonna do with you?" Three guesses, and the first two don't count. That's right: it's kissin' time.
Felix is damn proud of himself with that reaction from her, and of COURSE she gets the kisses. Both of them. And then another, pulling her in even closer against him. "...well, I reckon I got a couple ideas," he murmurs when that one breaks, giving her a wicked look.
"A *couple* ideas?" Lilah arches a brow. "Not just one in particular?" she teases, and then pulls right back against her. Before he gets a chance to respond, however, she's nibbling at his neck without another word.
"Oh, I got a LOT of ideas," Felix half-purrs while she nibbles like that, "...an' only some of 'em boil down to one in particular. But I =do= like that set of ideas an =awful= lot." The hand she hasn't twined fingers with slips down her back again, this time lower than it was before, resting on her rear. A squeeze, and after a few moments, a small sigh. "I just need a good idea for a prank. Gotta do somethin' good for havin' joined, 's tradition. Apparently. Seems fun anyway, so." Not that it's stopping him from moving the hand to worm it back into the same position but beneath her jeans. Which proves he genuinely doesn't have a one-track mind! There's clearly at least two.
Lilah grins toothily, her teeth felt against his skin, and murmurs, "I'd love t'hear about these ideas o' yours. One set an' otherwise." Nibble. She squirms a little as his hand settles where it does, and then presses back against his hand when it slips beneath her jeans. "Maybe," she suggests breathily, "you tell me your ideas, an' then I'll tell ya mine." None of those ideas will be about pranking, but hey!