The library's ground level is one large room punctuated by even rows of pier columns that confidently hold the weight of the upper floors. The building is old but solid, its lath and plaster walls dark with age. Here and there some of the plaster has worn off to reveal the wooden slats beneath. Heavy, dark grained and decorated mahogany wainscoting runs the length of the walls, complimented by thick, ornate crown molding along the ceiling and each of the columns. It's clear from the dilapidated condition that the building's been abandoned for decades. There is a somber, sepulchral quietness to the place, even when alive with people, that is perhaps a ghostly echo of the rigid, required silence that its wardens demanded when the library was in its heyday.
There's a large Christmas tree set up, big enough not to be entirely dwarfed by the room. A closer look shows it's fake, and closer than that, that it's actually branches from several fake trees welded together and to a big pole in the center. It's been quite thoroughly decorated with garlands, repaired strands of lights, tinsel, and various bric-a-brac -- most notably, quite a number of those car air fresheners, lending their pine scent to their much larger cousin. Perched on the very top is a Barbie with the white gown from a baby doll cinched neatly onto her, and angel wings of tin foil and glitter taped to her back. Her halo appears to be made from a metallic pipe cleaner.
There are some other cheap metallic garlands and such various places around the room and wound through and around the banister on the stairs, and a sprig of mistletoe is tacked up over the front doors.
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 a well-worn biker jacket of the traditional sort, all fairly closely fit black leather and silvery zippers and snaps. Beneath it, he's got old black jeans with a rip in one knee and the cuffs half walked off, with a faded black band t-shirt ('Anarchy Burger - Hold the Government', parodying the In-N-Out sign) under an open dark red hawaiian shirt. There's a couple leather-and-bead bracelets on one wrist and a length of ball-chain disappearing beneath his collar; 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.
This barely teenaged kid's first and most noticable feature is his pale, attractive and close to flawless face. He appears blessed with natural good looks and clear skin that do not require much effort to maintain. His eyes are a brilliant mixture of a rich blue and bright green, though they are often downcast and hidden in the shadow of his grey wool cap's brim. From the back of that cap his short-cut hair is dyed in streaks of dark blues and reds.
The kid's neutral expression, prone to a slight scowl that he constantly wears, might look rather unattractive and off-putting on another face; but on this one it just offers an out-of-place regal aire. Standing at around five feet and a half with a bit of a strong but sinewy build, he has some stature for his age but is not imposing. The kid's throat has some long thin scars across it, like he was in some kind of bad accident years before.
He currently also wears old faded blue jeans and a black short-sleeved sweater with thick red stripes from the neck down the tops of the arms. Some brown and dirty white vans, seeming large for the kid's size yet still fitting him well, kick around on his feet. A slightly over-sized dingy brown winter coat is worn over the ensemble. His hands are encased in thick black leather gloves.
Those hands... something is strange about them. It's difficult to be sure with the gloves, but the fingers just seem too long if you look at them for a moment.
Baby, it's cold outside... but it's not too terrible inside the Library, all in all. Still, there's something to be said for the benefits of body heat, which is surely why Felix and Lilah are on the couch in the recreation nook, her sitting at one end and him sprawled on his back across the rest of it, head in her lap. He's managing to play guitar in that position, the amp actually at a level people could talk over for once, and singing to her cheerfully, "Oh, I could throw you in the lake, or feed you poisoned birthday cake; I won't deny I'm gonna miss you when you're gone..."
Despite the clear and present threat to her life, Lilah remains chipper as he sings, tapping a foot to a key here or a note there. She's even bopping her head gently. She idly strokes her fingers through Felix's hair while he sings, and all in all, it looks like a pleasant evening is afoot.
Winter rolls in after the Scissor Sisters cover band has clearly already taken the stage. He comes in baring heat, in the form of coffee that is. Coffee that smells clearly like what coffee retailers refer to as "pumpkin spice". In one hand he has some kind of 7-11 Coffee Monstrosity that is clearly at least half a gallon of the stuff and probably pm;y cost whatever they call a large at the fancier coffee places would cost. The dye-jobbed teen strolls in and is already whistling along to the song, swinging in his other hand a generic white grocery bag filled to the brim with pastries. "I've got lawsuit-hot coffee and yesterday's trash! Who rules Barter Town?" He announces to the lovebirds on his way further in.
"Oh, I could bury you alive, but you might crawl out with a knife--" Felix sings, lifting his head slightly at the opening of the door and breaking off when he sees who's arriving. "Hey, Winter!" he calls in greeting, playing the brief accompaniment to Bill & Ted's 'excellent!', possibly in response to the mayor of barter town's triumph. "Been lookin' for you."
Lilah nods her head at a key point in the song, like she is definitely the type to crawl out of her own grave with a knife. She, too, turns to see who it is, and casts a smile in Winter's direction. She perks up at hearing Winter's name, and tells him, "Felix's mentioned ya, but I think we ain't met yet. Lilah Sinclair, 'Gnawer kin. An' a pleasure t'meetcha."
Winter stands there in sudden stark horror at Felix's announcement and then narrows his eyes. "Whatever someone told you I did? I didn't do it. I swear. I was off being heroic. Clearly." He clears his throat and then returns to smiles and cheer as he sets down the bag of pastries next to the couch and sits nearby. "Pleasure is all mine... my own... my... precious." He then holds out the giantic 'cup' (if you really can call it that) and asks casually, "Coffee?"
Felix snickers at the reaction. "You left off 'unless you liked it'. Important qualification," he says, "But it ain't nothin' you did. It's what I'm gonna do." He quietly, almost absently, accompanies this last bit with an appropriately suspenseful little vamp. It's a bit less appropriate to him adding, "Looks like it. Smells like pumpkin pie, though. That's about the biggest coffee cup I think I ever saw, by the way."
Lilah grins broadly at Winter's reaction, and then nods her head. "Clearly," she agrees with him, seeming highly amused. Felix's suspenseful vamping just makes her amusement grow. "I reckon that could go in one o' them museums, along with the largest ball o' twine, 'n right next door to Ripley's."
Winter snorts at Felix's inclusion and shrugs it off, then after tilting his head at the curious bits, curls the coffee cup back towards his face to eye it incredulously. "I know, right?!" He seems more surprised at the size of it than Felix did, and Winter brought it in. "Or is... that's what she said, the more appropriate answer to that?" Winter gives a huff of a laugh and sips at the coffee, "It smells so much more like pie than it tastes, which is so disappointing. So, what is it?" He seems lost in muses hums for a moment then questions further, "Favor? Challenge? Want me to be your new lead singer?"
"Nah, I'm lead singer, but if you play drums or bass..." Felix says, grinning, "And I ain't never heard it called a coffee cup before." He starts sitting up, adding aside to Lilah, "We oughta go see the largest ball o' twine someday," and then gets the rest of the way to his feet, looking to Winter again. "You got it, though. I am in fact challengin' you. For Fostern," he declares, the suspenseful noodling finishing itself off in a nice intense chord, dramatic both in sound and movement. Hey, if you CAN have a soundtrack, why wouldn't you?
Smiling brightly, Lilah says, "Largest ball o' twine sounds like a good time. And I ain't just sayin' that if'n it turns out it's next door to Ripley's. But reality never quite lines up to what's in m'noodle. I wanna see the largest basket, too. They got one up in Dresden, Ohio. Always wanted t'see it. I wonder if'n it's got good craftsmanship like the little ones do, 'r if it's just a bunch o' two-by-fours nailed together." She falls quiet though, after Felix makes his formal challenge, though her smile remains.
Winter chuckles and takes another tiny sip of the stupidly hot coffee and shrugs, "We're all going to need a big-ass basket sooner or later. So. Yeah. Challenge. Makes sense. We're Garou after all. Uh. And uh, oh yeah! I actually play the drums. I just... don't have any. That didn't stop me much in New York, if you don't mind plastic tubs and bottles played with wooden spoons?" He looks from Lilah back to Felix and seems to suddenly recall the other part of what Felix said, "Oh, right! Challenging. Alright. I gotta put my Fostern hat on for a minute. Lemme see here. You're a Bone Gnawer. Cliath. Been one for a little while. Ain't dead yet. Ok. I accept. You'll have your terms after I discuss with the Challenge-y guy. Or, girl, as the case may be."
"Awesome," Felix says, playing the Final Fantasy victory music, and grins. "Thanks. ...and actually, nah, I'm down with tubs an' bottles an' shit. Or we could see if there's anythin' usable ended up in Justin's junkyard. That's where this one's from." He sits back down, and leans over to poke with interest at the bag o' pastries that came along with the Ragabash. "Oh, an' about wantin' to see the largest basket?" he adds, glancing over to Lilah, "...That's what she said."
Winter nods and seems thoughtful at the idea of making music then adds, "I usually just banged on stuff in public, covering popular music for coinage. I could see myself being a rock star though. Chicks always dig the drummer." When someone finally pokes at the pastries he adds, "Totally clean. Friend of mine works at Panera's. They're supposed to toss stuff every night. He sneaks it out back to me in a trashbag when his boss ain't around." He looks at the small bag and then smiles, "I may have already ate... most of it."
"I reckon it is," Lilah says with a laugh to Felix's addition. She tilts her head to consider Winter for a moment, and then says, "I reckon tubs 'n bottles an' metal pots could sound real nice, in the hands o' the right person." She pauses, and then asks Felix as an aside, "Is THAT what she said? I ain't real up on the lingo yet." She's sitting on the couch in the recreation nook, with Felix nearby on his feet, the gee-tar in hand. There's a GIANT cup of pumpkin-flavored coffee in Winter's hands I do believe, and Felix is poking at some leftover pastries. Om nom.
Felix actually just sat back down, but who's counting? "Yeah, like I told Lilah when we met, I reckon rock star's a good plan B for if this Galliard thing doesn't pan out," he agrees, and steals a bear claw out of the bag, settling back again. "Chicks dig everyone in a band. Even the roadies." He plays a few bars of Crew Slut to go along with the claim, and has a bite of the pastry before offering Lilah a bite as well.
Winter hums out the tune that goes with 'Hey hey hey, all you girls in these Industrial towns' and grins, "Hey, we'll see. I'm not really hurting for groupies." He then does allow a moment of a serious expression to replace the joviality, "You do know, right, that Fostern is where this Garou shit starts to really get real? Cubs haven't even started playing yet. Cliath is the tutorial. Fosterns are expected to be on point. All day, every day. I'm not like this with other Garou. I can be myself with Bone Gnawers but other tribes just hear Fostern Ragabash and need me to step up, put my ass on the line, and do my job. Fostern means play time is over. Also means... mad spirit respect and you start getting to play with better spirity toys."
Lilah takes a bite of the pastry before waving off any extra he should offer her, politely. She leans back against the couch and falls silent, albeit still smiling, even before things grow more serious. Still, she lets her smile fade into something more serious, herself, and listens to what Winter has to say. No comment from the peanut gallery, this time.
Felix bumps Lilah's shoulder with his own when she goes silent, and manages to entirely polish off the rest of the bear claw while Winter's speaking seriously. The bit about playtime being over, for some reason, is what gets a sigh. "...yeah, I know," he says, not sounding 100% thrilled, "an' I ain't gonna lie, I like me some play time. An' chances are I'm gonna still be myself at people whatever way. But folks already expect me to put my ass on the line an' do my job, an' I do. I reckon I ain't half bad at it, neither, these days."
Winter stands and nods his head, "The scars will take from you what you aren't willing to give... in time. Hate to put it that way but shit's the truth. Way I see it? I do my fucking job. I go in with the warriors, front line, and I call their shots for them. I earn the fucking respect I get. At the end of the day, they owe their lives... no; even more important, their victory, to a Bone Gnawer. Metis. So Mama Rat tells me to survive and that I do even if piece," he fingers the scar at his throat, "by piece," he pulls a glove off to reveal his metis deformity, "by piece," Winter does nothing here, but it is clear a memory is triggered at that moment which is conveyed like a clean Operatic note in perfect pitch... here he pauses, and seems for all the world like the really truly young boy he appears to be before he finishes with, "It kills me. Good luck, Felix. You'll do fine." His mood seems to be a little more somber now and the Fostern starts off to where people tend to sleep here in the Library.
<OOC> Winter flexes that 4 Manipulation for Dramatic Inflection!
Lilah bumps Felix's shoulder right back, and she remains quiet as Felix speaks, and in fact as Winter talks as well. She swallows her bite of pastry, having chewed it slowly and in silence, and then opens her mouth to say something as Winter's heading out. But in the end, she closes her mouth, having said nothing. Instead, she turns her attention to Felix, watching for his reaction to all of this.
The Galliard listens, the corner of his mouth twitching upward at the part about to whom those warriors owe their success; there's a certain dark fire in his eyes to go along with it. It flares again for Mama Rat's instructions, and he nods, watching the Ragabash as he indicates the scars. "Well, y'know what they say. What doesn't kill us... better watch the fuck out." A half-smile, he's more serious as well despite the phrasing. "Thanks."
Winter has a huff of a laugh and gives a wave over his shoulder to the cliath. "Don't thank me yet," he murmurs as he goes to settle down for a nap.
Lilah watches Felix without interjecting, and then shifts to look at Winter. She gives him a small wave, and then leans back in her seat. When she does so, her attention returns to Felix, although she doesn't say anything still. Instead, she passes him another pastry.
Felix watches Winter go, and accepts the pastry when offered. "Thanks," he says to her, and leans to steal a quick kiss before settling back again and tearing a bit off the danish, guitar resting quiet in his lap for now. "...well," he says after finishing that bite, "that's done."
The kiss is returned, and then Lilah says simply, "Yep. Guess it is." She reaches over to rest her hand on his leg, careful not to dislodge his guitar. She watches him eat that danish without comment, just eyeing him thoughtfully.
Felix tilts his head, watching Lilah now as he eats. "...what's on your mind?" he asks between bites, offering her a piece of the pastry at the same time. One with jam on it, even. Everyone knows those are the best.
Lilah politely declines the pastry with a slight wave of her hand. His question is met with another brief moment of quiet, and then she says, "Just mullin' over things. Mullin' over what Winter said, 'n what you said. Not really... comin' to conclusions. Not really *thinkin',* per se." She tilts her head again, considering him for a moment, and asks, "'bout you?"
"Which that I said?" Felix asks; apparently he either is less concerned about which parts of what Winter said, or thinks it's clear enough. Currently, at least. He starts to bring the piece of danish to his own mouth to eat it, then pauses, eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you doin' that thing where you get all worried an' don't eat nothin' again?"
"'bout what doesn't kill ya makin' ya somethin' to watch out for. 'bout you bein' able to handle yourself... all of it. Nothing in particular, but all of it at once, I reckon." Lilah blinks at his question, and mutely shakes her head. She does give him a soft smile, though, so there's that.
Felix gives her a crooked smile at the first part. "I ain't a real big forgiver," he says, "...plus, anythin' tryin' to kill me prolly needs killin' anyhow." He leans to kiss her more or less on the temple. "So what're you thinkin' =about= that stuff? Or feelin' about it, maybe."
"Oh, I ain't sayin' the right path's to forgive. Sometimes..." She pauses for a long moment, and then shrugs. "Sometimes things gotta die." She blinks, and then continues, "An' like ya said, anythin' tryin' to kill you prolly *does* need killin'." At least on that, she seems certain. The kiss to her temple gets a lopsided smile, albeit a faint one. "I don't rightly know," she says, however, at his questions. "Thoughtful, but not thinkin'. Just. I reckon." She frowns, shaking her head, clearly frustrated by an inability to put concepts into words. "'bout you? You never answered when *I* asked." She lightly pokes his shoulder to emphasize.
"...well, mostly I was wonderin' what was on your mind," Felix answers, "an' thinkin' a song, and enjoyin' the danish. And bein' glad I got that done." He considers, and adds, "Mostly, anyhow."
Empathy: >>> You rolled 3 dice at 6 diff (8 7 6): 3 successes. <<<
It's faint, almost unnoticed in the background noise of whatever's going on with Lilah, the fact that her commenting on his first words leaves fewer hints as to her feelings, and the distraction of her passing him another danish. But there's a definite sense, beyond these factors, that Lilah's disappointed with his answer-- not in him, so much as something about what he's said. It's there in the very faint slump of her shoulders. She ends up saying casually with a nod, "An' I'm proud o' ya for gettin' it done," which is true. But just as true is that there's something beyond all that, and his suspicions as to her disappointment are confirmed at his final addition: there's a faint hint of something akin to hope at his words. Aloud, she simply says, "...mostly?"
Rage: >>> You rolled 4 dice at 4 diff (8 1 6 6): 2 successes. <<<
Man/sub: >>> You rolled 6 dice at 7 diff (3 10 4 3 1 3): 0 successes - failure. <<<
Almost unnoticed, maybe, but not entirely, and it's surely obvious enough to her that it is. The Galliard's usual ability to conceal what he doesn't want to show deserts him; it's clear when he catches that sense of disappointment from her, because up against her side there's a tension of sudden adrenaline, and there's a stricken, slightly lost look in his eyes as they search hers and the rest of her face and mien for clues to what it is she =wants= to hear. He knows he's disappointing her somehow and yes, he cares. A lot, apparently. There's a hint of his rage bubbling up in the form of frustration when he can't work it out -- just a bit, nothing dangerous just now, but it =is= so much easier and more familiar than whatever else it is he's feeling. "I... mostly?" he offers, uneasily, and hardly even seems to notice the pastry being pushed at him.
There's no attemmpt to hide the fact that she's seen what he would prefer she didn't; Lilah meets his gaze, her brow drawn in concern. The pastry is carefully set down before she puts her hands on his cheeks, pulling him in for a lingering kiss. It's not passionate so much as simply emotive. As though she could transmit her thoughts through their shared physical connection, as though this will somehow answer all the questions they both have. When it finally breaks after what might feel an eternity, her eyes open the entire time and searchi8ng his, she chews at her bottom lip, glancing away at last. "I wasn't... I wasn't--" She shakes her head, crossing her arms over her stomach as if her emotional turmoil were making her ill. It seems to take a surpreme effort of will for her to continue speaking: her cheeks redden as she closes her eyes and carefully says, "I wanna grow old. I don't wanna--" She breaks off, pursing her lips, and then just as suddenly repeats, "I wanna grow old." That doesn't seem to be so hard to say as what follows, rapidly: "An' I want the same f'r you. I know that ain't what I'm supposed to hope. I know you're s'posed t'go out in a blaze o' glory. Sometimes I just. Want the same f'r you, instead."
It's Felix's turn to flush, if just faintly, at her look of concern and its implications, and that sense of embarrassment is another thing easier to route through anger -- but then she's kissing him, and he kisses her back, moving a hand to touch her cheek. It's a similar kiss on his end, and when it breaks he's still watching her, still trying to figure things out. And then she's explaining things, and he keeps watching her still, taking a moment after she finishes before he leans over and sets the guitar down, and then reaches over to pull her gently into another kiss. It's a lingering one as well, unusually soft, and his eyes are closed this time. When he breaks it, he doesn't pull very far away. "I wanna stay with you," he says quietly, "I don't want to die. Ain't afraid to. But I don't wanna. Promise I'll do my best not to, as long as I can. But Lilah... I wasn't ever gonna die of old age. Not when I was normal. Not when I was a cub, not now." He brushes one of her curls away from her face, twining the strands around his finger, gaze staying on her face. "Assumin' I pass, ain't really gonna be in any more danger'n I was before. Less, maybe, seein' as there's more shit I could learn. An', y'know. Ain't nothin' managed to kill me yet, right?"
It isn't until Felix's eyes close, and a few seconds after that no less, that Lilah closes her own. But when that kiss breaks, her eyes flutter open rapidly, as though she's worried he's gone already. Her thumb and pointer fingers toy with her nails as she listens. She nods her head slowly to his words, and they do seem to be helping to some degree. When he's finished speaking, she hesitates before murmuring quietly, "'m sorry I upsetcha." She strokes his cheek as she speaks, and leans in for another kiss, a quick one this time. Her voice is soft, barely a breath of a whisper, when she confesses, "I am. ... scared t'die, I mean."
Felix gives her a crooked half-smile at the admission, and the back of the hand toying with her hair brushes gently across her cheek. "We all go sooner or later," he says softly, "Ain't nothin' we can do to stop it. So no point worryin', right? We got what we got." His fingers trace along the edge of her jaw while he looks at her. "Why's it scare you? What part?"
Lilah turns her head just a hair, to rub her cheek back against his hand. His reaction to her confession does seem to soothe her somewhat, though she tugs her lower lip in with her teeth before answering, "The pain. The fear in th'moment, funny 's that sounds. An' I'm scared o' bein' alone when th' moment hits. I got you-- I don't mean it like that. I mean, physically alone, when it happens. Nobody around, just me 'n my thoughts, 'n--" She shrugs, glancing away for a moment. "I know it's silly, an' it's... not real brave o' me. But it's th'truth. An' I know it ain't an idle fear. We're all gonna die, an' die young, most likely. But I don't want that. Not for me. Not for... for any o' y'all." She shrugs again. "But like ya say. Ain't nothin' to be done. No point worryin'. I--" She shrugs again, and manages a small smile as she moves her head to kiss his fingertips. "Like ya say: ain't nothin' managed to kill ya yet." She shakes her head suddenly, frowning. "Look at me, gettin' all maudlin. ...sorry."
Felix considers for a few moments, still touching her face and hair. "Well. I dunno that it helps, but the pastor at my old church, he used to say =everybody= dies alone, but for God. An' we KNOW there's Gaia, an' all her spirits around all the time, so y'know. Far's pain... like they say in that movie, 'Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is sellin' somethin'.'" Another half-smile, wry. "There's an awful lotta pain a body can take in its lifetime an' still be alive. An' I don't s'pose anyone can prove it, but I reckon there's a decent number of ways to die that don't end up hurtin' much. All those times people just go to sleep, an' don't wake back up, for one. But there's no reason to 'spect =you're= gonna die young. And me... yeah. They ain't managed it yet. An' I've managed plenty of them."
Lilah tilts her head against his hand, listening closely to what he has to say. It's quite obvious his words are helping, although when he's done she doesn't say a word-- instead, she leans in to kiss him, one of those emotive kisses they're so fond of. It's a lingering one, at that. Her eyes remain open even as they kiss, watching him, studying him, and when the kiss breaks, she strokes her fingers down his jawline, still not saying anything, just watching him and keeping him close.
Felix is quite happy with that kiss, fingers slipping into the hair at the back of her neck again, and when it breaks he steals another, much briefer. "I just figure... When I do die. I just wanna know for sure I lived," he says, still quiet. Another of those kisses, then, though this time his free arm goes around her back, trying to draw her in closer.
"I wish I could live like you," Lilah murmurs, and gives him a fond smile. "You do, you know. Really live." This time as she's drawn in closer, she does close her eyes, keeping him near to her with her hands sliding down to his shoulders. Idly, her thumbs brush over the fabric there.
"Nothin' stoppin' you," Felix says, with a quick grin, "Nothin' stoppin' us from doin' much at all. But I think y'do pretty good already..." This time he nips her lip, giving her a quick grin before that next kiss. He leans into her touch, and this time the kiss, while no less emotive, isn't entirely emoting the same thing.
Lilah smiles against his lips after he nips her, and while she may be emoting the same thing at first, well. She's not a saint! Her hands on his shirts tighten just slightly, and she tries to pull him in a little tighter to her, whether that's actually possible at this point or not. Still, just moments later she begins to pull away-- and with a smile, she moves to try and stand. "Reckon we should take this party upstairs?" she asks, giving him a ridiculously fond look.
Felix tries to keep her, although at her question, he reconsiders. "...yeah," he agrees, and lets her stand. He gets up as well, picking the guitar back up and putting it away, turning off the amp. He takes her hand, then, and heads toward the stairs.