Weekend nights are the worst when the moon's large -- the best times for finding active parties and clubs, the time Felix's energy most wants channeling into things like that, and the time having him out in the midst of that sea of humanity is decidedly riskiest, all wrapped up neatly together. Becoming Fostern hasn't done anything to make him less inclined to do it anyhow -- it's never been a problem, as he's invariably protested and apparently is still going to -- but so far tonight Lilah-the-voice-of-reason has won out, albeit probably less via reason and more via distraction. Now, though, he's on his feet again, pacing the room, ending up by the window, looking out across to where people are wandering to and from the Temple and various other places.

Without a word, Lilah pads over to where he's standing, resting her left cheek on his back, and her right arm around his shoulder. She's quiet there, keeping him in place (or attempting to) for several moments before she speaks. "I was thinkin'," she begins, "That maybe you 'n me could do somethin' interestin' tonight. I got these finger paints at this garage sale, see, an' a notebook. We could tack it up an' see if we're any better 'n kids at paintin'." She gives a soft, hesitant smile against his back. "Or maybe..." and her fingertips begin 'walking' along his back, "We could do some facepaintin' with 'em, if it ain't too stupid. I got a new book at the sale, too. If you wanna hear it."

It's never exactly calming to feel that kind of swell of frustration rolling off a werewolf, and probably worse right now. Felix's muscles are tense, and the hand that was flat against the glass of the window pulls back, clenching. That close, Lilah can most likely feel the clamping down of sheer will that results in the pane remaining intact today, and the Galliard making an abrupt turn and stride toward the propped mattress, which gets the blow instead, and several more good kicks and strikes to go along with it. He's breathing harder afterward, still tense and eyeing it like an opponent, stance staying 'ready' for a good few seconds before he drops his fists and exhales. "Fuckin' starvin'," he says shortly, "You want anythin'?" If so, she'd better say so swiftly, because it won't take that long for him to be out their door. Hopefully, only that one, but at least his current mode of dress suggests it's a fair hope.

Lilah's eyes widen, and her gaze shifts downward, her hand moving away from his back and down to her side. Both hands, in fact, go to her side and remain there, and she casually steps aside as he starts to move, staying out of his way. She doesn't say a word, and doesn't flinch as he punches the mattress; if anything, her body seems less tense when he does so, if only slightly. When he addresses her directly with that question, she responds only, "I'm good," without raising her head. It's not until he's been out the door and presumably staying beyond it for a moment or two before she'll let out a held breath slowly.

It's a good twenty-thirty minutes before Felix reappears, which is really only reasonable for food-obtaining if he's either picking up a pizza or suddenly learning to do some kind of cooking which involves more than pressing microwave buttons, neither of which appear to be the case. Plus there may have been a couple building-muffled noises that might have been yells, although to be fair, if he HAD been trying to cook that wouldn't necessarily be out of the realm of possibility. He's sweatier than when he left, but on the upside, he's also looking somewhat calmer, and he's brought back jerky, one of his bottles of not-exactly-coke, a bag of chocolate easter eggs, a box of crackers and a can of Easy Cheese. He pushes the door closed behind him with a foot; it's still more force than it really needed, but that's common this time of the month regardless of his mood. "Broughtcha some anyway," he says by way of re-greeting, giving her a crooked half-smile. "...what's the book about?"

You paged Lilah with 'Oh, if she ends up close enough to be able to tell, he also smells more freshly like cigarettes than he did before.'.

When he returns, he'll find Lilah on their mattress, wearing a diaphanous nightgown now, more from it being worn thin than it being sexy. She's not a nudist really, preferring to wear some semblance of clothing except when there's hanky-panky or it's sleep time. Her legs are pulled up to her chin, arms wrapped around her legs, and a book beside her, uncracked. "I ain't *entirely* sure," she replies without hesitation. "But it's got a tommygun on the front, an' some kinda mobster." She reaches over to the bookshelf, retrieving a different book than the one beside her, and holds it up. In addition to the tommygun being held by a stereotypical mobster type, there's also a woman hiding in an alleyway, looking frightened. The mobster's obviously looking for her. "An' thanks," she adds, for the food.

Felix less 'is a nudist' and more 'just doesn't give a fuck' -- though not literally, as suggested by his appreciative regard of the diaphanous qualities of Lilah's nightgown while she unwinds enough to snag the other book. He drops his collection of treats on the bed and gets the Altoids tin from his jacket before dropping down beside her and trying to pull her in for a kiss. "...finger paintin' might be fun later too," he says, when he lets her go again, and starts trying to rearrange her for optimal book-reading, i.e., so he can lie with his head in her lap. "If I was gonna paint on you, though, maybe chocolate sauce or somethin'd be more fun'n proper paint. Tastier to clean up, anyway."

You'd think at some point his lewdness would stop making Lilah blush. If so, you'd be wrong, at least tonight. Her cheeks flush at his suggestion, and she shakes her head with amusement, post-kiss. "It was a dumb idea, an' I'm sorry I upsetcha," she says earnestly, and tries to tug him in for yet more kissage. "...but we got some o' that Hershey-style sauce in the fridge. Y'know. Downstairs. Ain't much left, but..." She shrugs, still blushing but with a small smile now. When he rests his head in her lap, she runs her fingers through his hair, looking down at him with a great deal of fondness, her smile growing larger.

"Ain't dumb, it's cute," Felix replies, and you'd think at some point her blushes would stop amusing and charming him, but if so, you'd be wrong. At least tonight. He touches her cheek, and fully cooperates with that kiss; when it breaks, his hand stays on her cheek, and he pulls away only enough to meet her eyes. "An' it ain't you upset me, neither." He settles into her lap, eyes closing briefly while he tilts his head to meet those combing fingers, and when they reopen he smiles back, if a bit more wickedly than hers. "Down in the fridge, hm? Keep that in mind." For now, he picks the Altoids tin back up; despite his earlier claim of starving, the food is apparently going to wait a little longer. During this time of the month he tends to have a joint or three in among his cigarettes, and it's one of the former that gets lit up this time, and offered up to Lilah after the first couple good puffs.

Her lips curving upward, Lilah brushes her cheek back against his hand, and the kiss is definitely lingering, albeit gentle for the moment. Once he's said it wasn't her who upset him, she tilts her head, watching him, and starts to open her mouth before just as suddenly smiling instead, a soft smile. "I keep an eye on when we got dessert fixin's. It's the kinda stuff you gotta make sure you keep stocked 'r as close 's you can, or people get too riled up." Her smile broadens as she sees his wicked one, and she moves her hand down to trace it over his chest. Just a light thing. The joint is accepted and puffed before passed back to him, and she says nothing more for the moment. Then again, it helps the lack of further conversation that she's holding her breath to keep the puff in a bit longer.

"Mm. Pretty sure I heard 'Nam started over runnin' outta maraschino cherries," Felix agrees solemnly, and his gaze flicks downward over the insubstantial fabric of her nightie, and back up, almost thoughtfully, "...we got any of those?" He doesn't seem inclined to get any further into anything related to upsetness, regardless of his breath not being held just at present. That's changed soon enough after she passes the joint back regardless.

"'Nam and that 1810 war, too. It got real messy," Lilah replies with a grin, and then chews at her bottom lip as he eyes her nightie. "We ain't, I'm sorry to say. They're real tasty." He doesn't seem inclined, and neither does she. Instead, she exhales slowly and closes her eyes for a moment, reveling in the sensation. After a moment or two, she leans back a bit, propping herself up with her elbows.

Felix's next exhalation is nearly a sigh, watching the smoke as it floats free, and his shoulders and neck seem to be noticably relaxing where they rest against her. "Okay, but. Cannons as musical instruments, that's that one, right? Can't argue that ain't pretty awesome. Wonder why ain't no one scored anythin' for handguns? Or automatics, bet you could get some interestin' percussion outta that..." He has another drag, then offers it over again, and taps lightly on the book's cover.

"I got nooooo idea," Lilah is not afraid to admit, "...but an automatic dance song could be purty good." She accepts the joint and has a slow puff, holding her breath as she passes it back over. She'd looked slightly tense earlier, but she too is slowly relaxing-- not that she was ever nearly as tense as he was for a bit there. When she exhales this time, she keeps her eyes closed. "Reckon it'd be real loud, though. Might hafta stand back a bit."

Felix closes his eyes, and since her hands for some reason still aren't busy with the book, he gropes for one of them and pulls in back down to toy with his hair again, instead. "Nothin' wrong with loud. Maybe I oughta get me one an' see what I can do," he muses, before falling silent for the space of another long-held breath.

Lilah's lips curve into a pleased smile as her hand is moved. Naturally, she's more than willing to toy with his hair, curling little bits of it around her fingers before massaging his scalp. "I wouldn't wanna stand right next to a cannon, but yer prolly right about automatics. They ain't *that* loud, I figure." She sets the book aside for now without opening her eyes yet, and then sits up a bit more, the better to stroke his cheek with her free hand.

There's a moment more quiet than actually required by breath-holding before Felix says, "Well. You might not wanna stand right next to an automatic either. Unless you're the one playin' it." His eyes stay closed, and he tilts his head into her touch. Another smoke before he offers what remains still-blindly to Lilah, who may or may not be appreciating his sense of proprioception at present (especially if her eyes are still closed), but probably should be.

"A'right, I guess you got a point," Lilah acknowledges smoothly, and she half-lids her eyes before she'll accept his offering. It's the hand from his hair that she uses to take it, and while she's giving a slow inhale, the fingertips on her other hand are tracing along his lips. "You ever shot one o' them?" she asks, after the long moment of holding her breath is over. Her eyes go from half-lidded to open somewhere during this process.

"Yeah, once. Modified AR-15," Felix says, opening his eyes slightly to watch her, and he grins suddenly, "It was pretty kickass. Loud. And took a shit-ton of ammo. But fun." He closes his eyes again, turning his head slightly to kiss her fingertips as they leave his lips.