The second floor of the library begins with a wide landing that temporarily interrupts the great spiral staircase. The floor is dark mahogany that might look beautiful again if restored. Unlike downstairs, this floor is divided into several, symmetrical rooms, the doors to which are arrayed in a circle surrounding the landing. Each door is solid, dark stained wood with an insert of frosted glass. Each door is labeled with various Dewey Decimal Classifications in black lettering painted across the center of the glass.
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.
Long before Felix can spot Lilah coming up the stairs, he can hear her. And not just her footfalls, today, but singing. LOUD singing. It's probably a good thing nobody else is around at the moment, because if they were she'd rouse them from the dead, let alone sleep or quiet study. At least she's (mostly) on key! "Cause Iiiii loooooove the way you call me baby. And yoooooouuuu... take me the way I am." Then, a little softer, she sings, "I'd buy you Rogaine... when you start losing all your hair. Sew on patches... to all you tear." It's about then that he can spot her, and she slips the old-fashioned 80s headphones back down behind her neck. The sound of Ingrid Michaelson's 'The Way I Am' can be heard tinnily through them, and then she hits 'stop' on the tape player. Yes, it's a walkman. All hail the Walkman! Assuming she spots Felix at that point and he's not, say, bleeding out, he gets a soft smile as she heads in his direction. "Howdy."
Felix is indeed not bleeding out! And neither are the pair of mattresses he's got set up against each other against the wall, although they're taking enough abuse that they'd probably be losing at least some blood if they actually had any. He's topless and kind of sweaty, but seems happy enough when he looks to the singing and greeting, giving Lilah a grin. "Well hi there," he replies, and gives the mattresses another kick followed by an immediate elbow. "Work okay?"
"Yeah, it was purty good." Lilah steps into the room fully, and sets down a plastic grocery bag nearish the mattresses before moving for a small wooden chair that barely fits her, about half the room away. She turns it to get a good view of Felix, and then settles into it. "Broughtcha some food," she says, indicating the grocery bag with a jerk of her chin. "Got some good tips, so I figgered, why not splurge a little? 's a philly cheesesteak omelette. If'n you don't like it, that's fine. I forgot to getcha a drink, though." She shrugs.
Die, evil mattress! Or at least experience pain and possibly a broken nose or something along those lines. He glances over when she sets down the bag, and when she settles and explains what it is, he turns and leans back against the mattresses, breathing a little bit hard. Not so much he can't talk, though. "Ain't like we're all that short on those," he says, and uses the springs (such as they are) to push off and head over her way to steal a kiss. "Thanks, doll. Sounds delicious. And I was startin' to get right hungry." The grin she gets to go along with that strongly suggests that omelettes are not the only potential solution to that problem.
The kiss is returned in kind, and Lilah smiles up at him before nodding. "I reckon it's good I broughtcha food, then," she smirks, and leans back in the chair. It's not a super comfortable chair, but it'll clearly do. She's still in her uniform, and even has the apron on, though she squirms in her seat, hands behind her, until she's gotten the latter off, at least.
Felix is a jerk and doesn't even offer to help, just watching the squirming appreciatively instead. "I reckon so," he agrees, and then heads over to pick up the bag, bringing it back over to where she's sitting and aiming to casually settle on her lap, more just to be a (sweaty) pain than actually to really sit there.
Lilah pulls the apron's strap off her neck, and then tosses the entire thing... away. Not aiming for anywhere in particular, but that likely comes as no surprise. It's not like either of them are fastidious hamper users. "So whatcha been up to today?" she asks, right around when he settles onto her lap. "Well howdy," she smirks, and doesn't immediately attempt to eject him from her lap. Success!
"Comfy," Felix decides, wriggling as if to find a suitably plush spot, and then opens the bag to pull out the food. The fate of the apron doesn't get more than a glance; there's tasty smells to be checked out and devoured. He doesn't give any indication of not considering himself sitting in a normal chair until quite a few bites in, when he offers a bit of omelette to Lilah.
"No it ain't, you liar," Lilah grins with a shake of her head. She squirms in her seat as well, not enough to unseat him, but enough to make it more uncomfy. She waves off the omelette, then, and explains with a shit-eating grin, "Nah. I had yer toast already."
"Never lie," Felix blatantly and cheerfully lies, counter-counter-squirming in retaliation. He threatens to lean far enough to get his sweaty torso against her and her uniform -- there's time for her to resist, but if she doesn't it's probably happening. While he eats. "You ate my toast? My =toast=? An' t' think I trusted you!" he complains, around a mouthful of hashbrowns and pretty unconvincingly on top of that.
"Is that a suggestion, a command, or another lie?" Lilah shakes her head to his lie, and doesn't try to prevent him and his sweaty torso. Because hey, that's what laundry's for! Surely it has nothing to do with sweaty manflesh. Which would be a GREAT band name. "I ate it, an' it was DELICIOUS. It had butter an' jam on it, too. The strawberry. It was so good, I can't even tell ya." She does laugh though, at his complaint. "You never trusted me," she smirks, and reaches out to tweak his ear lightly. "I'd as soon kill a man as look at 'im." Which requires that she put on her best 'tough' face.
Felix shakes his head. "Nope," he answers, lying again without the slightest hesitation, and she gets a good hearty serving of sweaty manflesh, mostly against her chest, but also some on her arm, and a good face-nuzzle against her neck, which transfers plenty as well. "You ate my butter an' jam TOO? It's like I don't even KNOW you anymore!" he complains, punctuating it with a bite just below her jaw. The tough face and claim gets a snicker. "Oh, yeah? How'd you do it, then?" He's clearly terrified, as proven by the way he goes right back to eating.
"I asked which it was, not a yes/no question, ya goof," Lilah says with a light laugh, and if she minds the sweaty manflesh, she certainly doesn't voice that. She does, however, lean her neck right back against his face, closing her eyes for a moment. She shivers at the bite below her jaw, and her lips curve up into a smile. "Like I said, ya can't trust me. As for how I did it? I put the toast in m'mouth, and chewed it all up. It was the tastiest thing I'd had in... well, at least a fortnight. And ya missed out on it. Ya snooze-- or punch mattresses, whichever-- ya lose."
"When it ain't any of the above it turns into one," Felix retorts, and leaning in gets her just about used as a towel, though he's still playing around. "Nah, I punch mattresses -- an' kick 'em, and all that shit -- I win. That's kinda the point. But that ain't what I was askin'. If you'd kill a man as soon as look at 'im, how'd you do it?" He polishes off the hashbrowns, and gives her a smirk. "Tastiest thing in weeks, huh?"
Lilah shakes her head at his retort, and doesn't at all protest to his overly-sweaty manflesh rubbing against her uniform. Which needs to be a porno description, I swear. "I got lasers in m'eyes," she answers his question, and at his smirk, she smiles innocently. "Yep." Just a simple confirmation, said ever so sweetly.
Felix uses the side of her neck and up to her ear more than the uniform per se, 'cause it's just not as amusing to go with the cloth. Not that it escapes. He lifts his head to study her eyes consideringly, and looks dubious. "Lasers, huh? Can't see my way to takin' your word for that, not when y'already said you can't be trusted. Reckon you oughta prove it. And I s'pose I oughta be makin' sure you get more tasty things in your mouth. Well. If you ain't gonna kill me insteada look at me, anyhow." Last bite of the omelette, and he gives the plate a regretful look for being empty. Shouldn't eat so fast, maybe.
Arching a brow, Lilah meets his gaze while he studies her eyes, and then grins. "Lasers," she nods, and then tilts her head at him. "I didn't say I couldn't be trusted. Check yer ears, boy. I said you never trusted me. That's a problem on your end, not mine." She grins broadly, and at his request to prove it, she squints her eyes at him until they're barely open, concentrating fully. She shrugs after a moment, explaining, "I got lasers, but I guess they're all outta juice after all them other men I done kilt." She doesn't EVEN comment on the 'more tasty things' bit, though he may note a very slightly pinkening of her ears. Still, it's progress for Blushy McBlusherton. When he looks at the plate like that, she drawls, "Betcher glad I ate yer toast now, huh?"
"You also said, an' I quote, 'ya can't trust me,'" Felix points out, "Can't. I maintain that means y'said you can't be trusted... girl." He watches her concentrain' laser eyes, and shakes his head. "I think you're the liar here, y'liar," he says when she claims to be out of juice, and the drawl gets a quick turn of his head and a sharp snap of his teeth in her direction. "Glad ain't the word. I'm debatin' whether I oughta see if I can't get me that toast back... if I just pick a place an' start eatin', I'm bound t' get to it eventually, right?"
"I may've said that, but I was surely just talkin' about yer clinical inability t'trust others," Lilah says, and pushes up imaginary glasses, giving her best snooty look. "...boy." She laughs lightly, her mood seeming buoyed by the teasing. When he snaps in her direction, she moves her head out of the way of his teeth although it wasn't needed. That last bit, though, has her blushing deeply and extending an arm. "Yer welcome t'try," she smirks, and takes that moment to nuzzle up against his neck.
Felix arches a brow at the snootiness, giving about as good as he gets. "Oh, I can trust =trustworthy= people," he says, "Just not sneaky girls like you. An' I believe you meant 'man'." The plate and silverware get dropped back in -- or at least on, he's not bothering to put much effort into aiming right now -- the bag, freeing his hands to take the extended arm, and start nipping and nibbling at her wrist, then gradually onward along her forearm.
"I am imminently trustable," Lilah sniffs haughtily, and then grins at his 'correction.' "Did I?" she asks simply, and then closes her eyes as he begins to work his way down her arm. She gives the slightest of shivers, but she's not giving up just yet; she squints one eye open to look at him and ask, "Ya havin' any luck?"
"More lies," Felix murmurs, shaking his head. The first question gets another brow quirk, a brief but rather smirkier one, and the second a particularly sharp little bite at the inside of her elbow. Followed by a lick, and a risk of leaving a small bruise there. "...Hmm. Dunno. Not gettin' toast yet, but kinda sweet. Might be sneakin' up on the jam," he muses, and goes right back to that little spot.
Saccharinely, Lilah asks, "Now, just what do I need to convince ya I ain't lyin'? Seems like there should be some kinda way, some kinda test 'r somesuch." She grins toothily at his brow quirk, and then starts just a teensy bit at the sharp bite. "Sweet talker," she accuses, then pauses and adds with amusement, "Lit'rally." Her free hand lifts up so she can run her fingers through his hair, gently.
She can feel a grin at the accusation, but there's no talking in immediate response -- more elbow attacking, and then further travelling up the inside of her arm. More nibbles and licks, requiring a bit of a twist in her lap, and Felix other hand finds its way to her waist, tugging the blouse out of the pants and slipping under the hem to slip across her abdomen from front to side.
Speaking of nibbles, Lilah begins doing so at her lower lip, her gaze on Felix as he makes his way up her arm. She grows quiet now, watching him closely even as his hand touches her abdomen. Maybe especially. Her breathing speeds up just slightly at the feel of his hand, and she chews at her lip once more before trying to pull his head up to meet hers for a kiss. And not a gentle one, at that.
Felix doesn't immediately cooperate, making sure to get a couple more bites in before allowing her to get that kiss. "You thinkin' I might have better luck startin' from here?" he teases after the kiss breaks, and takes his own turn to nibble her lip before kissing her again. His hand strokes upward along her side, the other one still holding her wrist even though the arm's no longer getting devoured.
When he doesn't immediately cooperate, Lilah sucks in her lower lip, particularly at those bites. "Y'might," she teases right back, after giving him a most thorough kiss. And she does very subtly taste of strawberry jam, so there's that!