Wind buffets you as you attempt to keep your balance atop the Municipal Bridge, carrying with it a series of smells--the pristine forest to the east, the water and rotting fish of the river far below, and the asphalt and smoke of the city to the west. Flakes of rusted steel cling to your hands and feet with every shift in position, the infrastructure of this ancient edifice reflecting the decay of its builders.
It is possible to clamber down to the surface of the bridge. Or, if you're feeling a bit more suicidal, the fall to the river is staggering.
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 nicely-fitting dark indigo jeans with a plain white tank, its ribbed cotton skimming close enough to hint at the musculature beneath. Over that, he's wearing a long-sleeved, navy blue shirt, unbuttoned; judging by the white-on-red number patches on the left arm, the flag patch on the right shoulder, and the round fleur-de-lis patch to the left of the collar, it was once part of someone's Scout uniform... probably not his. Okay, the 'Boy Scouts of the USA' patch over the right pocket's a hint, too. 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.
Nine o' clock, and already the evening's demonstrated that in their current condition the Sinclairs need to think their entertainment plans out more carefully, in Lilah's case, or at all, in Felix's. They only got a couple songs in over at Smilin' Jim's Karaoke Bar before Lilah couldn't avoid noting how terrible one of the singers was, and her boyfriend was seated near enough to ask them something belligerent, which of course Felix had to truthfully answer -- although, to be fair, there's a reasonable chance he wouldn't've said anything less inflammatory anyway -- and long story cut slightly shorter, so was their karaoke night. Annoyed and not ready to go home yet, Felix took them on a bit of a walk instead. Ending up on the old municipal bridge, he decided those girders were definitely climbable, and has just finished demonstrating his proof of this hypothesis, settling in on one of the highest crossbars and looking downward to flash Lilah a grin.
At least Lilah was apologetic about it. ...after the fact. ...to Felix, anyway. She's looking up at him now, and he gets a slightly less flashy grin in return. "I'd think y'just wanna look up m'dress, but you're up there 'n I'm down here, so how's that s'posed to work?" she teases, brushing a hand down her white sundress idly, and looks down (never look down!) before looking back up to him consideringly. "Y'reckon I could get up there?" she wonders aloud, though she doesn't exactly wait for a reply before she starts testing her footing.
"'course you can get up here!" Felix replies, "Boots oughta do it fine, too. An' of course I wanna look up your dress, too, though from up here I can look down it, an' that ain't half bad neither." Would he have said that anyway? Maybe, maybe not. There's too much grin to suggest he's bothered about that one either way. "You need a hand?"
Lilah giggles softly, and then glances up at him for a moment. "You just like havin' life win-win, dontcha?" she jokes, and pauses to blow him a kiss before growing slightly more serious to consider her angle of approach. "I got it," she assures him, although she does not, in fact, 'got it.' About two-thirds of the way up, she nearly loses her footing, and shrieks just moments before she's able to regain it. She just sort of pauses there, clinging to the support, and then meekly replies, "I could use a hand."
"Best KIND of life," Felix confirms, "Can't ever have too much win." There's one of those rare flashes of genuine distress at the slip and shriek, and it's hard to see exactly what happens next except that suddenly he's beside her, with an arm around her waist and the other firmly anchored to the girder. It takes a small adjustment to get his feet settled as firmly, but he's got it. Her meek remark gets a tiny breath of a laugh, and a kiss to her head, since he's still slightly higher. "Okay, c'mon. You go first, an' I'll help."
There's the briefest moment where Lilah's body stiffens, more out of surprise than anything else, and then she relaxes against his arm. "Thanks," she murmurs, both embarrassed and pleased all at once, before starting to try and make her way up again. She's slower this time, more cautious, which means he doesn't have as much to do *and* she takes far too long. But it may help that she keeps shooting him fond looks in between her climbing. Once they're both up, and settled, he may or may not be startled by her suddenly grabbing his face and trying to pull him in for a kiss.
If Felix gets impatient with the speed, it doesn't show -- either he isn't, or hiding it doesn't count as a lie. Quite probably those looks don't hurt, and hey, he gets to have a hand on her pretty much the whole time. Two hands, in one particularly well-supported spot. The kiss does surprise him, enough that he grabs a bit of girder he wasn't holding once he felt balanced, but he kisses her back without hesitation.
Lilah doesn't seem to even notice him grabbing for the bit of girder, and her kiss is a rather heated one, left to linger. Well, left to linger until a particularly strong gust of wind startles her out of said kiss, anyway. She reaches for a piece of girder, herself, and smiles a bit shyly before looking away-- and down. "This is a real nice spot y'found," she comments.
Felix protests the lingering not at all, his free hand ending up on the back of her neck by the time that gust of wind interferes. "I like it," he agrees, "Might come here s'more. Nice view, for sure." He leans out, extending the arm that's holding a support so he can get a perhaps overly precarious look at how far down the river is, and then a look around at the city from their current location and height.
Lilah, on the other hand, is perfectly happy not leaning at all, thankyouverymuch, so she only gets a view of whatever she can see without. Still, she ends up commenting, her eyes on him, "Yeah, it sure is a nice view." A moment later and she's looking up at the sky again, looking fairly well pleased with her lot in life. She pauses, and then says, "Thanks, for... back there." A vague gesture.
Felix opens his mouth to reply, but whatever he would've said apparently doesn't pass the 'truth' test, judging by the look of annoyance that goes along with the brief lack of words. What ends up coming out instead is, "You're welcome. Don't gotta thank me, though." That aside, he looks reasonably pleased with life as well. He settles in with his back against a girder, getting nicely balanced so that he can reach into his jacket's inner pocket, coming out with a small flask. He opens it up and takes a fair-sized sip before offering it to Lilah, 'cause what they really need while balancing this many feet up on a deteriorating bridge is a good strong drink. Yep.
Lilah tilts her head at that look of his, and leans over-- carefully-- to kiss his cheek. The flask is waved off for now, and he may or may not have noticed that she's not been drinking since around about the moot. For now, she's watching her surroundings, and she's quiet for a brief moment. It's a short silence, though, unlike her usual, and she ends up asking, "What were you gonna say? Before."
Felix, on the other hand, has been drinking normally-for-him (at least) since then. What's he gonna do, come up with extra truth? He shrugs at her demurral and has another drink of it himself, eyeing the river below them consideringly. Her question gets a tiny laugh. "There's a lotta shit I was gonna say before now!" he protests, looking to her again, "Wouldn't know where to start. But assumin' you mean JUST now," which is probably why he's not currently being compelled to try and figure it out, "...I was just gonna say, ain't nothin'."
Lilah smiles softly over at him, and then pats his leg before returning to her grip on the girder. "Is it awful I wish I knew all the things you were gonna say 'fore now? To me, anyways." She pauses, and then lets out a frustrated sigh suddenly, right before admitting, "I wanna know everythin' aboutcha, really. The things ya think and why and how an'... an' I know that's too much, but right now I can't shut m'mouth up. So." She focuses on her feet, frowning as she swings them just a little bit. "I feel like I'm pokin' a hornet's nest, an' it ain't like that's ever a good idea, 'specially when we're havin' this nice night 'n all. 'm sorry."
Felix closes the flask and tucks it in a more easily accessible pocket for the moment, giving her remarks rather thorough consideration. "....no," he answers after several moments. Only one actual question! He can't quite seem to leave it there, though, adding, "But I don't think I could tell you even if I truly tried. Ain't like I usually keep 'em in mind past when they happen." He swings his own feet a little, in possibly unconscious mirroring of hers, and moves one to tap side to side with one of hers. "You know why an' how you think what you think?"
That simple 'no' makes her shoulders relax somewhat, and Lilah looks over at him at his own question, shrugging. "Mostly, yeah. If I'm thinkin', 'I wish it'd rain,' or somethin', it's prolly cuz somethin' led m'thoughts there. Maybe I was thinkin' 'bout Alabama, an' that made me think, 'boy, it sure does rain more here than there,' then..." Another shrug. "I reckon things'd be easier if it's weren't like that." She taps his foot right back. "Ain't nothin' wrong with not knowin' things, I figure."
"It does rain a whole lot more here'n there," Felix agrees, and countertaps her foot once more. "I guess I prolly think that way too, 'least sometimes. Maybe I oughta think more about how I think, I dunno..." He considers this for a second or two, then shrugs again himself.