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.
The room is fairly large, once the home of all the library's materials that fell under the heading of 700: Arts. Nearly all were taken along in the move to the new library, although a few particularly tatty specimens appear to have been left behind on one of the remaining bookshelves, of which there are several. One other is also still actually being used for its original purpose, bearing a collection of rather newer books in varying condition. Another seems to have become an ersatz dresser, with neatly folded clothing on the shelves and a towel hanging over one corner to dry. A wheeled suitcase seems to be acting as a drinks cabinet next to a desk and a pair of rickety chairs; most of the other furniture has been removed or shoved against a wall, out of the way, including a stained and lumpy twin mattress sitting on its short end. It's a corner room, and there are two many-paned, arch-topped windows in each of the outer walls. On one side, a queen-size mattress in much better repair is laid on the floor between them, with pillows and linens on it suggesting it sees regular use.
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.
Isabella is a tall and lean girl, built with a model's proportions. She'd be beautiful in many eyes if she wasn't often dressed in shabby, old Goodwill clothing that serves as a contrast to her more refined looks. If anyone ever properly dressed and tended her she could easily make magazine covers, but instead she looks like a lily growing in a trash heap. She's certainly as pale as one for all she sounds used to heat and sun, given her Southern good old girl accent. Her hair is long and straight, though usually done up in messy informal styles. It's a pale cornsilk blonde with slightly darker roots. Her eyes are expressive and brown in color, accented with a moderate bit of make up on an otherwise largely natural-left face.
Shaggy brown hair and darker brown eyes frames this young boy's face. Justin has a slightly tanned complexion with a hint of Puerto Rican from his mother's side, Caucasian from his father's. He has a fairly lanky build that could use a bit of bulking upas he is built like a high school track runner. He wears loose fitted 'destroyed' blue jeans, simple tank tops, and worn down sneakers that are about five months in need of replacement, and during the cold, a thick green military jacket from his Grandpa. He looks like your average, ordinary American young teen that plays outside and is fairly active. Tall at five foot ten, he is a few inches higher than most his age for now.
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.
"Someone was throwing them out." Says Isabella of the Hundred Layers of Warm Clothes with bundles of newspapers hugged to her chest. "They burn well, figured that'd be useful." She passes them over to Justin. "So, what's up? Quiet round here."
"You know I installed a heater, right? It's how we get luke warm showers." Justin says as he flops the newspapers down, then curls his arms about her waist loosely. "Everyone seems to be gone but me, been down here just reading books." He shuffle steps a few inches closer. "So... we got the place ourselves for a change ..." He tilts his chin upwards, inching closer for a kiss.
"Hey, never hurts to be prepared!" Isabella says to the Ahroun. "Power goes out, especially in the areas no one cares about. Generators fail. And I, for one, don't have fur." She gives Justin a poke to his chest with a wide, merry grin before she leans in to give the sought after kiss. "This southern girl ain't freezin' her bits off. So alone, huh? Well that's boring."
Felix comes down the stairs, getting just over halfway down before he can see there's kissing happening. He pauses, glancing from the pair to the kitchen to back up the stairs, and then attempts to walk more quietly the rest of the way down. The boots aren't really made for it, but at least he's used to trying to sneak in them.
Sliding one hand into her hair, Justin's fingers curl about as he pulls her mouth down to his for a kiss. "Mmhm. I haven't heard anyone else here yet. Maybe ... I can make you some lunch and we can sneak up to my room .." He trails off once his lips break away from hers, that is until the thumping of boots is heard. He pulls back quickly and glances over to spy Felix, then scrunches his nose. "Never mind."
Isabella ruffles her fingers in the shaggy back of Justin's hair as she leans upright at the noise. She glances over towards Felix and offers the Galliard a cheery grin. "Hello there, Felix! See, you're not alone, Justin." She adds with a wink, knowing full well he'd prefer otherwise. "Lunch does sound like a good idea though. What do we have stashed around?"
"You're imaginin' things, I'm definitely not here an' therefore y'don't hafta change anythin' you were doin' or plannin'," Felix says in his best not-the-droids-you're-looking-for voice (well, second best, since he's not using Persuasion), complete with hand movement. He gives his packmate a fleetingly apologetic glance, and doesn't pause in his trek to the kitchen, where he pulls a box of leftover pizza from the fridge. "...but if I was I'd say Lilah did some shoppin' yesterday so there's a buncha stuff."
With a mutter, Justin lets go of his girl and turns and trudges off to the kitchen. "I can make us some wet back stew if you're hungry." He says as he gives a stretch of his arms over his head, then starts to root through some cabinets. "Should save the pizza for when we're desperate."
"Hungry is always desperate. Just a matter of how!" Isabella says with a grin as she hops up on the repurposed central return counter that's now a holding place for cereal and cracker boxes. "Stew sounds good, rib-stickin and best of all hot! I can always offer coffee. I can go without food but coffee? Never."
"Why? Ain't like it gets better with age," Felix says, "It's tastier before it starts curlin' up at the ends. Anyhow, had it last night an' leftovers's what called my name. Not that I won't eat your stew too, if you're makin' it anyhow." He snags a beer from the fridge also, making a wordless offer of one to both the others.
"Yeah, I'll make the stew, just grab me the tortilla chips." Justin says as he opens the freezer and takes out some beef, then cuts the back open with his switch blade as it slips through the plastic.
Isabella leans over so she can rummage in the top shelves of the counter from where she sits. In short order and some rustling, a bag of off-brand chips is pulled out and is set atop the counter. "Chips obtained! What else ya need? Beans go in this? Cheese? Oh- beer!" She chimes and holds out a hand to take one of the offered bottles.
Felix passes Isabella a bottle, and then his pocket knife, the bottle opener flicked out with a deftness that suggests much too much practice. He hops up on the counter as well, crossing his legs with his boots just barely dangling off the edge and the box in his lap. Cold pizza and beer, a part of this nutritious breakfast. "So, how you been doin', Bella? Ain't seen you in a little."
"Yeah, beans and a lot of cheese for later. Snag me some rice?" Justin begins to hack the beef into chunks with a blade he pulls out of the drawer, lobbing it into a frying pan that is settled over the open flame on the stove he ignites.
"Thank ya, darlin'." Isabella drawls to Felix before she scoots herself off the counter so she can hunker down to rummage for the other ingredients. "I can get behind a lot of cheese. That makes anything good. One of these days I should try and cook more but, eh, ramen is so easy."
"Sometimes I think about tryin' to cook, but then someone else makes somethin' an' I think of somethin' more interestin' to do," Felix says, opening his own bottle and having a good drink. He goes quiet again then, eating and watching the other pair.
"Gotta have an old school Puerto Rican grandmother raise you to learn how to cook proper." Justin says as he dumps the beef chunks into a large bowl, then fills it with water, followed by a lobbing of beans after slicing the bag open. He finds a can of tomato chunks and it goes in as well, followed by a number of seasonings he scrounges out. "She would make me cook for the family and then yell at me in Spanish if I fucked something up."
"Pft. We were a bunch of poor white folk." Isabella tuts at Justin. "Pretty sure we were poor enough that something other than squirrel for dinner was a good day. Took till just a generation before last until most of my family could read and write. But my granny did make a mean poor man's pie. Might be what I need around here to make it if there's some cinnamon."
"Reckon there might be a cinnamon in that cabinet," Felix says, gesturing with his beer, "I grabbed a buncha spices an' shit a couple months ago, on the offchance someone might get all inspired to make us pumpkin pie or somethin'." He has another bite of pizza, considering the two of them.
"I ain't putting cinnamon in there. I want th' kind that'll make yah' shit fire." Justin says as he starts to stir the contents under the heat, giving an amused grin on his face. "We were poor too, but abuela always managed for us somehow. We had a tight community and we always shared."
"No no!" Isabella says to Justin as she withdraws his remaining ingredients and flops them on the counter. "For poor man's pie. Believe me, spices make or break it." And seeming inspired, she starts hauling up other things. Sugar, flour, a can of evaporated milk, pie spices, and a big old bowl and chipped mixing cup.
Felix seems faintly amused, listening to the discussion. "We're Gnawers," he points out, "Ain't a lot of us grew up eatin' cavier an' filet mignon." He finishes off his beer, giving it a betrayed look. "One of you pass me another beer while you're in there?" he asks, when someone looks close to the fridge.
Not near the fridge, Justin continues to stir the contents about in the bowl as he pinches a few more spices in. Curling an arm about Bella from behind, he tugs her in close for a moment for a half-squeeze before letting her go to fetch Felix a beer. "You should make the pie for tomorrow then. Would be legit."
Isabella gives a bump of her hip against Justin before she inches back to what she was doing. "It's best cold and set up anyway, so it's best eaten the next day." She reaches her way into the fridge for butter and a beer and passes the one over to Felix. "So, Felix, what did you grow up eating? Since we're having a Cultural Appreciation night in the kitchen!"
Felix gets two beers? If so, he's not complaining! Either way, he opens the new one, spawling a bit along the counter now that Isabella's not also sitting there. "Well. What're we considerin' growin' up?" he asks. "Guess my mother useta make spaghetti sometimes. Stovies. Colcannon. Uh... oh, chili, stew. Lotsa beans. I had a lotta macaroni an' cheese, ramen, PB an'J, shit like that when she was passed out." He shrugs.
<OOC> Isabella probably mistook it as Justin let Her go for Her to fetch a beer. Whatever. XD
<OOC> Justin says "XD He was letting Bella go to fetch him a beer."
<OOC> Felix says "Oooh. Sorry! :D"
<OOC> Felix read it the other way.
"Yer mamma Fianna?" Bella asks over to Felix as she works butter and flour together with washed hands. "Those sound like UK-sorta food, just guessin' from the sounds of it, what with the red hair too. Er, if that wasn't rude to ask. Pretty sure my family's got some French before the big migrations back when there was still a colony here."
"I was raised on beaner food. Was practically a poor man's Taco Bell every night." Justin says as he takes a sniff of the stew, then continues to stir it with a wooden spoon. Taking the bag of cheese, he upends nearly half of it in, then starts to stir more to give it a thick, soupy texture.
"Well, she was 'til my daddy knocked her up an' they got married, I guess," Felix says, picking a piece of pepperoni off one of the remaining pizza slices, examining it a moment, and then popping it in his mouth. "There was kinda a big to do, to hear my grandfolks tell it. I didn't know nothin' about it 'til a few months back, though." He washes down the pepperoni, and then grins at Justin, "I'm pretty sure Taco Bell's already a poor man's Taco Bell, man."
Isabella hoists up her shoulders in a shrug. "Eh, other tribes and their whole blood purity... thing. Pft. Purebreeding's bad for the genes, even I know that. Mutts are always healthier!" And then she's rummaging dirty-handed for a pie tin, finds something that is either that or a miniature hubcap, and begins pressing out a pie crust. "Besides, I'll take fish sticks and Kraft over caviar anyday."
"Hey, if my cousin was hot enough I'd fuck her. Works for the Fangs." Justin says with a snicker as he lets the stew cook. He takes a step towards Bella, as if he was about to snag her up again, but he halts himself for the moment and leans back against the counter, then shifts backwards to let his rump settle.
Felix snorts. "Yeah, works great," he says, "Definitely ain't none of those inbreedin' issues goin' on there, nosireebob." He grins again, suddenly, "Nah, too much risk, we better play it safe. You got a hot enough cousin, you just send her over here instead." He's sprawl-sitting on one of the kitchen's repurposed counters, eating the leftover pizza from last night and drinking a beer for breakfast, while Justin's making stew, leaning against the counter while it cooks, and Isabella's whipping up a pie. "...ain't tried caviar. Kinda want fish sticks now, though."
"The Fangs might get offended if they think we're trying to build a properly inbred Gnawer legacy." Isabella says as she pours straight milk into the pie crust. Sugar and a bit of flour are mixed and sprinkled over the top of the milk with a few pats of butter. None of it stirred. "I have no clue who came up with the idea salted fish eggs should be stupidly expensive."
Lilah pauses at the top of the stairs, and then heads on down, stretching a bit and trying to work the sleep out of her bones. "Do we *have* fish sticks?" is all she has to say, but at least she sounds interested at the possibilities. She rubs at her eyes, and then wanders over to lean up against the counter Felix is resting on. "I think I slept too much," she adds.
"I ain't never had caviar either and I don't think I want to. Looks disgusting for one." Justin says as he glances over to his cheese stew for a few moments to give it another stir. It may not look like much but it smells delicious. But, that could be the spices covering up for the taste. After a few more stirs, he turns around to slide his arms around Bella from behind as he leans in against her back to peerk over her shoulder.
"Maybe it tastes better'n it looks? Wouldn't be the first thing," Felix offers, and glances toward the stairs at the sound of someone coming down them, "Or maybe someone's just a damn good con artist." He brightens noticeably at seeing Lilah, flashing her a smile. "No such thing, you were tired," he says, and shifts position so his legs hang off the counter, one to either side of where Lilah's leaning. He leans down then to give her a nearly upside-down kiss, and offers her his beer. "I don't think we do. We could go get some, though, if you want."
"I vote con artist," Lilah says, and returns that kiss warmly. The beer is definitely accepted, and gratefully. She gives a quiet word of thanks, and takes a drink of it before waving to Isabella and Justin. "Old fashioned cookout, it looks like? I dunno how it's gonna taste, but it sure smells good!"
"I'm making wetback stew. It's gonna taste awesome." Justin says with a grin on his face as he points towards the bubbling bowl of meat chunks, thick cheese soup and beans. "And if you don't like it, just pretend you do. Don't hurt my grandma's feelings."
"And I'm makin' poor man's pie." Bella says over to Lilah as she leans back against Justin. "Felix was boring and decided to eat cold pizza but I can't argue the choice of beer." She says as she takes a swig of her bottle. Cinnamon and nutmeg are sprinkled over the liquid pie before she plucks it up and scoots towards the oven with a Justin hang on.
"If so you gotta respect the guy," Felix says, offering Lilah a slice of the pizza as well, "I mean, going 'shit, how do I turn all these spawning fish into cash?' and pullin' it off so successfully people're still buyin' into it for generations? That's talent." He glances to Justin, snorting softly again at the protection of his grandma's feelings. Still, "It does smell pretty awesome," he says.
"I wouldn't dream of it," Lilah promises Justin, hand over her heart no less. "I reckon you're right, though... you'd hafta respect a man like that. Like... sellin' bedwarmers to the West Indies, like that one fella I read about." She shrugs, and has another slow sip of the beer before accepting the slice. "Why thank you kindly," she says to Felix.
"Well, I mean I guess you can at least insult my cooking. Me Abuela can make it twenty times better than me." Justins says as his arms tighten about Bella's mid-section as he rubs his cheek against her shoulder gently. "I'm sure Bella's pie here will make up for the stew if anything."
"Maybe yes maybe no." Isabella remarks to Justin with a grin. "It's an old-fashion pie and not at all fancy. But if simple is your thing than it doesn't get more basic." She looks over towards Lilah then with a pointed finger, "Lilah! So I asked Felix the same. What kind of stuff did you grow up eating? Figure it probably wasn't much different than me."
"Ain't borin', I'm hungry," Felix notes to Isabella, "I'll still eat stew also, when there is some." He reaches down to steal the beer back from Lilah so he can have a sip. "If it was that, too bad we don't know who it was. I mean, a kid always needs role models. ...who was that one fella? Did he also sell ice to eskimos in the off season?"
Lilah takes a rather large bite of the pizza, right before she's asked things by Bella and Felix. She chews. And chews. And chews-- and finally is able to swallow and answer the two of them. "That kinda depends," she admits to Isabella, "If daddy cooked it, it was pretty good stuff, even if we weren't doin' so good money-wise. Grits, biscuits 'n gravy, corn bread, green bean casserole... he could do a lot with not much." She notes as an aside for Justin, who may not know, "He's a line cook at Edith Ann's, and he's a good'un." Then, back to Bella: "But if he was workin' or busy, I ate my own favorites. Like Cheez Whiz 'n crackers, 'sketti'-- that's like spaghetti only I didn't really know how to cook it *or* say it. I'd microwave the noodles 'n add some ketchup... gas station pickles if I had the scratch-- whyya ask?" Distractedly, thoughts no doubt on these culinary delights, she tells Felix, "Somethin'-Dexter. I don't think he sold ice to eskimos, but he *did* hoard whalebone an' ended up makin' a fortune puttin' 'em in corsets 'n the like. I read a whole book 'bout him."
Felix looks rather interested in this Dexter guy, but before he can ask much more about him, the stew's finished and the pie's in the oven. Then there's less talking from everyone while stew's being devoured instead, with plenty of appreciation of Justin's abuela. When it's done, and Isabella's still monitoring the oven, Felix snags a couple more beers from the fridge and gives Lilah the semi-subtle 'let's leave them alone' head tilt toward the stairs. It's not quite identical to the 'let's go be alone' head tilt, mainly in that he glances to the other two first rather than giving Lilah a Look.
Lilah glances back toward Justin and Bella, and then smiles, starting to head up the stairs as quietly as possible. She doesn't visibly hunch over in a stereotypical 'sneak' movement, but she might as well; Lilah and sneakery just don't mesh well. Once they're to their room, she sets her beer bottle on the desk, the better to flop backwards onto the mattress.
Felix is a much better sneaker. Even in those boots. Then again, they are what he's used to sneaking around in. They aren't stopped as they make their more-or-less stealthy retreat, and Felix flops down on the mattress beside Lilah, though he keeps his beer when he does so. It gets set down once he has, though, beside the mattress where he can reach it when he gets thirsty. "So," he says, rolling onto his side and resting a hand on Lilah's abdomen, "tell me 'bout this Dexter."
Nuzzling in closer to him with a smile, Lilah says, "I can't remember 'is first name. But he faked 'is own death, just to see if people'd cry, for one thing. Tit for tat: you ever had sketti?" She turns her head so she can look at him properly, but doesn't turn onto her side.
Felix laughs. "An' did they?" he asks, "That's a pretty dedicated prank, I gotta say." Her further question gets an evil grin, and he quirks a brow at her, lifting the bottom of his shirt to display the tattoo there. After a moment he does answer, "Yeah, s'pose so. Didn't call it that, but."
"Oh, yeah. Like three thousand people came. I dunno if they cried, though." Lilah giggles as he lifts up his shirt, and, after exaggeratedly rolling her eyes, she does the same, then arches a brow as though to ask if they're even yet. She doesn't lower her shirt, though. "His wife didn't cry 'nough for him, though. He caned 'er for it, which's prolly why she didn't cry in the first place." She pauses. "It's always hard to have role models. I mean, cuz even the best of 'em always fucked up somethin' major." Another pause. "Though maybe that's a good thing."
Felix whistles low. "Three thousand's a hell of a lotta folks. Even if some of 'em maybe were just checkin' to make sure he was dead. ...which if they were, good thinkin' considerin'." He takes a few moments to blatantly admire Lilah's portion of the exchange, hand resting on her now-bared abdomen again, then sliding up a bit further. "...yeah. You go beatin' someone, you got no right to expect 'em to be broken up when you bite it," he says, apparently to the hand, although there's something in his expression that owes nothing to the joy of breasts. He shakes it off, glancing back to her face, and nods. "Prolly a good thing, yeah. Ain't no one perfect, but if they were, first time you fucked up that'd be the end of any chance of bein' like 'em. Why bother?"
Lilah smiles as his hand slides up, and at his first comment. He'll find her smile's gone and she's watching him still once he's shaken that thought off, though. She rests her hand on his, squeezing gently. She watches him for a few more moments, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles, before saying, "'zactly. It's kinda nice knowin' ain't nobody perfect. Nobody at all." Her eyes don't leave his as she asks, "What's on your mind, sunshine?"
"Now? That I like my side of this bargain," Felix says, adding a gentle squeeze of his own, although admittedly it isn't to her hand. "And yeah, it is. Like, you met Salem? Glass Walker Adren? He's a kid now, like, maybe twelve or thirteen to look at him, tangled with some faeries or somethin on a quest. But before that, Justin says he was old. Like, gettin' on senior citizen kind of old. An' that he's been Adren a few times now, prolly'd be an Elder by now if he hadn't fucked up along the way. Now, I dunno what kinda fuck-ups those mighta been, 'cept I guess he changed tribes an' I reckon that'd set you back a ways, but. 's nice knowin' a guy can fuck up enough to bounce around ranks more'n once or twice an' even so keep kickin' ass an' takin' names for ages, still make up for whatever went wrong. You ask me that's a lot more inspirin' than some guy bein' an Elder by twenty with the sun shinin' outta his ass or somethin'."
Lilah extends a hand over to touch the tattoo just above his waistline, just idly stroking over the skin for now, and notes, "I wouldn't say my side o' the bargain's too bad." She nods to his question, her eyebrows raising as he goes on. "What tribe was he before?" she wonders, and her fingertip very briefly ducks below his waistline, just enough to be felt past his belt. Her expression doesn't change the whole time. "I'm with you, though. Way more inspirin'. I like... y'know, just *people,* flawed 'n wonderful despite everythin'."
"Shadow Lord," Felix says, "...Justin said he hates 'em now, which it seems to me's gonna be awkward while Thane's Alpha. He did look pretty fuckin' pissed about it, though, gotta say." The dip of her fingertip gets a quick grin out of him, though he otherwise pretends not to notice. "Yeah, me too. People're fun. A lotta 'em are assholes, granted, but still. Even somea them are fun."
"Definitely awkward," Lilah says with a nod, before asking, "Why's he hate 'em? They ain't so bad. You 'member me talkin' 'bout Crystal, right? She's Shadow Lord kin, an' I reckon they treat 'er okay, an' she was never trouble." A pause. "Well. She was trouble, but the good kind." She grins, and lifts her head up briefly to kiss at him, whatever small bit of him she can reach. "I think the worst is when they're assholes *an'* they're borin'. Pick one, but not both." A shrug. "Anyway, I like people." A glance in his direction, then, "I like you." Her fingertip dips downward again, hooking under his belt and simply staying there for now.
Felix shrugs. "I dunno," he says, "...if I get a chance without it being weird I'll find out. They got that shitty reputation, everyone sayin' they're sneaky power-hungry bastards, but I reckon if you ARE one you ain't gettin' swayed by what folks say. And changin' tribes, that's a fuckin' huge deal. So it's gotta be major, right?" He leans in to kiss her, his hand stroking downward over her stomach again. "'course you like me. 'cause maybe sometimes I'm an asshole, but I ain't borin'." Another stolen kiss, "I like you, too."
"Well, there's grains o' truth in everything everyone says about whoever, I reckon. But it's like, meetin' five Southern boys who wanted to beatcha up. There's prolly 'least that many wanna help ya out. Might just be the higher-ups what act like that. I dunno." Lilah shrugs, not too concerned about it at the moment. She's far more interested in kissing him back, and glancing down at his hand. "We're all assholes, from time to time. But you sure ain't borin', you got that right." She grins, tugging the finger beneath his belt nearer to herself. "How much ya like me?" she teases.
"There's a fair number of people I wanna beat up," Felix admits, "...but I s'pose there's a decent number I'd wanna help out, maybe, too. Prolly not the same ones." A finger of that hand traces a light circle around her navel, trails down toward her waistband, and then starts heading back up toward her chest. "Don't believe you. You ain't an asshole. Prolly ever," he says, and the teasing gets a soft laugh. He leans over to kiss her again, a bit longer this time, and slides in closer with that tugging. "More'n anyone."
"Prolly not, no," Lilah smiles, her stomach moving slightly as she giggles at his finger tracing that circle. "I can be just as much an asshole as the worst of 'em," she grins. "I'd say 'just watch me' but it ain't a contest." Pause. "Yet." Where one finger tugged him closer, now a second finger joins the first below his belt. And then a third. "More'n anyone," she agrees, and lifts her head up to kiss him again.
Felix gives a little snort of disbelief. "Still don't believe you. Ain't no way you can be as big an asshole as some assholes I've met. Even if you tried with all your heart. That kinda asshole just ain't in you." Another of those quick grins, "Ever, since I reckon I ain't quite that kind either." He moves in just a bit closer to her again, to help her out with that kiss.
"I could. If I wanted to," Lilah assures him, and then she's getting lost in that kiss for some time. Not that she's lost the thread of conversation entirely; when the kiss breaks, she adds, "I could be a much, *much* bigger asshole than you ever dream o' bein', I guarantee it. Cuz you ain't that big an asshole, anyways. I don't wanna, but I sure as hell could." It's unclear whether she's trying to prove her point or just changing topics as her fingers leave his belt, only to begin undoing it.
Felix studies her a few moments, trying not to be entirely distracted by the fact that she's undoing his belt. He actually does pretty well. "You ever feel bad about shit you did?" he asks.
Lilah's fingers pause in their dirty doings, his belt just barely unbuckled, and she looks up at him, nodding her head. "Yeah. All'a time. ...you?" Her hands move again, this time to wrap around his waist. She kisses his forehead lightly, but beyond that just watches him.
"Then you couldn't," Felix says, and his hand rests unmoving on her belly. "'cause I know I'm supposed to feel a whole lot worse'n I do about a lotta shit I've done, an' I'm tellin' you right here I don't think I could either. Guy gave me reason, I could kill him. I know that. But I don't see me killin' his six year old daughter in front of him to make my point." There's something about his expression that suggests he's painting the least disturbing version of that picture he can. "Bein' able to be the biggest asshole I've ever met ain't somethin' to want."
Lilah's eyes never leave his face, though occasionally she's not meeting his eyes, but watching the line of his mouth as he talks. "I think even those assholes gotta feel bad about somethin'. Somewhere." But his point's clearly been made, judging by her furrowed brow. Her thumb brushes over his waist, just a soft touch, and she chews at her lower lip before asking gently, "Who's the biggest asshole y'ever met?"
Felix leans in and kisses the furrow in her brow. "His name's Kevin," he answers after a second, "but most people call him Psycho. ...Or sir. Called, anyway, but prolly still do. He's in Riverbend now." His hand moves to brush a curl away from her face. "An' I don't reckon he ever felt bad about nothin' in his life. But I s'pose I could be wrong. I guess if I was him an' I did, I wouldn't've let on. But I do think there's people don't never feel even a li'l bad 'bout nothin' at all." He gives her a small, crooked smile, brushing a fingertip along her jaw, "...an' then there's people go feelin' guilty about shit they ain't even doin' wrong."
Hands stroking over his skin softly, Lilah listens to everything he has to say with an intense interest. "How'd he end up in Riverbend? You have anythin' to do with that?" she asks, curiously. It's not a pointed question; she clearly just has no idea. She tilts her head to bring her skin closer to that fingertip, which she then attempts to lightly kiss. "We all got... we got capacities. For good 'r bad. That's what I figure. Maybe once you do enough bad... it don't matter to ya no more, the guilt. Ya'd have t'collapse under the weight of it, otherwise." She's quiet, thoughtful for several moments, and then she looks to him again, tilting her head but not commenting further.
"Nothin' to do with me," Felix says, shaking his head, and then a corner of his mouth quirks up, not really in a smile, "He killed the wrong person. Was datin' this chick for a while, daughter of some big banker I think. Anyway, rich bitch slummin' it. Reckon she liked feelin' all dangerous an' shit. Overdid it on pickin' her dangerous, though. Either she did somethin' to betray him or he thought she did, don't really matter. Anyway. SHE goes missin', they go lookin' real fuckin' hard into that. Managed to pin some of the other shit he'd done on him once they were botherin'. Reckon they wanted to make damn sure, they sure hadn't cared about anyone else before that. So, yeah. Couple of his lieutenants went down too." The not-smile gets a bit closer to one at that fingertip kiss. "Yeah, we got capacities. An' prolly people do burn out some, that way. First time of anything's hardest. Second's easier. Fifteenth, who cares?" He pauses, but can't quite phrase whatever else he might have said, and shrugs instead.
Tilting her head back up, Lilah listens as he talks, then brushes her fingertips up along his abdomen, soft touches. His last words have her looking thoughtful, and she says after a long pause, "Reckon it's important to not go past once 'r twice, on stuff like that. Or not get there inna first place. But mistakes get made. Even intentional ones." She leans in to give him a soft kiss, and then asks, "So how'd you know Kevin, then? Word o' mouth, 'r...?" The back of her hand strokes his side as she talks.
"Pretty much anything's easier with practice," Felix says, that nearly-smile staying rather crooked with that, and he kisses her back, sighing when it breaks. "Well. His crew was reachin' for more turf, an' they were hittin' up against ours. And Jayce reckoned we better try some diplomacy, 'cause if there was a war prolly a lotta folks'd die, an' there's more of them than us. So there was a meetin'. He brought me an' a couple other guys with. 'side from that... word of mouth. Awful lotta word of mouth."
Lilah kisses the edge of that crooked nearly-smile once more when he's done talking, and then slowly runs her fingertips over his abdomen again. "Kinda wish I coulda seen your territory, back there. I... like seein' the stuff't... means somethin' to ya, or did." She presses her forehead to his, and one hand leaves his stomach to rest on his cheek, stroking it gently.
Felix closes his eyes for a moment at the stroking, though they open again fairly swiftly. "Well, maybe we'll go back sometime an' visit," he says, "Can show you my old Sept, too. Reckon there's people'd like to meet you." He's quiet a moment before musing, "Wouldn't really be shocked if it turned out Jayce had somethin' to do with Psycho goin' away, actually. But I'd be kinda shocked I found out." He turns his head to nip at her fingertips, while they're there.
There's a light giggle at the nip, and Lilah tsks at him before chomping at the air in front of his nose. "Ah, ah, ah," she teases. "I'd love to, someday... meetin' Jayce 'n the rest. An' I'd love t'meetcher grandfolks." She gives a half-smile and continues, "Wish you coulda seen Crystal when we was in town, but we was in a hurry. An' I forget if you met Pegs, an' you prolly didn't see much o' Earl. Hell, all them folks is pretty nice."
"What you ah-ahing me about, huh?" Felix challenges, the grin breaking through, and he gets hold of her hand, bringing it to where he can give it a more delierate nip -- no sharper, just more focused. "My grandfolks'd love to meet you, too. They keep askin', y'know." She probably does. "I did meet Pegs. She was nice, I thought. An' nah, I didn't get to talk to him that much, but I remember Earl." Another grin; one could surmise he liked what he knew of the guy.
Lilah's giggle is louder this time as he nips at her, and she insists, "That's what I'm ah-ahin' you about! That right there!" She shakes her head with amusement, and then nods to the bit about his grandparents. "Well, when we get the money 'n time, tell 'em I'd love to meet 'em, too. They seem right nice. Oh, I'm so glad ya met Pegs. She *is* real nice. An' Earl's good people, too. Well, 'course... otherwise I guess I wouldn't be sayin' ya should meet 'im."
"Dunno if everyone I'd introduce you to's exactly =good= people, but they're my people," Felix says, and then nips at her hand again, gnawing playfully on the side of it, just below her pinky. "...reckon it depends on your definitions."
"Any o' your people's gonna be good people. By definition," Lilah insists, and then laughs at him gnawing at her hand. She playfully tries to free her hand, making a mock-distressed face for a moment. "An' my definition... I dunno. But you're good people. That's definition enough."