the_lioness | (no subject)

(no subject)

"I'm fine. I'm not tired," Alanna had barked at Adam, as he pushed her into bed. "There are people who need my help!"

"Mmmmm hmmmm," he'd replied, pulling the covers over both of them. "You've done all you can. Now sleep."

"Do you even know where our children are?"

"Don't get nasty, 'Lanna."

The only answer he'd received was a snore. Adam settled back, blowing out an anxious breath, and stayed close while she slept.

~ ~ ~

Four hours later, Alanna rolls out of the now-empty bed and rubs at her eyes. When that doesn't help, she dumps an entire pitcher of water over her head and, scowling, calls for a bath.

Now, clean and mostly awake, she flops into a chair in the great hall and attacks a plate of food. The wine is also flowing freely, it seems. Even half asleep, Alanna knows it's time to celebrate!

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Max hasn't slept since he arrived. Which isn't to say he hasn't been to bed. It turns out that young women being grateful for you helping to save their home is a universal.

He can live with that.

That's why he looks a bit rumpled when he arrives, but he does arrive nonetheless. There had been talk of drinks, and that Raph guy seemed like he'd be a fun guy to party with. Or brawl with. Or, if Max's luck held out, both.

From experience, Alanna would have to vote both.

"Max!"

Her voice is still more raspy than usual, thanks to days of shouting and exertion, but the mischievous grin is back in place and she looks reasonably relaxed. It's quite a change from this morning.

"You look as if you've rested well."

One eyebrow arches as she directs a pointed look at his tunic. It's hard to tell in the dim candlelight -- is it inside out?

Max glances down and discovers that, yes, his tunic is inside out. "Oops," he laughs. Then he peels it over his head, ignoring the fact that he's in public. He may even take a little bit longer than necessary to flip it the right way (in case anyone wants to check out his musculature) before pulling it back on.

He flashes Alanna a grin. "I must say that most of the post-battle tension is gone." That was sort of like resting!

His musculature is right there in Alanna's face. Looking away would probably be rude, wouldn't it? She takes a lazy sip of wine and continues staring at his chest until moments after he's fixed his clothing.

"Must you?"

Alanna smirks.

"He had sex," X explains, slipping up behind and to the left of Alanna.

Someone has very kindly loaned her some clothing; she seems comfortable in a surcoat. Even if it is not black.

"People say that is effective."

Choking on her wine, Alanna blinks at X and says, intelligently:

"Er."

X isn't wrong. Just blunt.

(Where is her blasted husband now, anyway?)

Max lifts an eyebrow in X's direction. "Been following me around?" Did she want some of the Max?

He shakes his head and glances over at Alanna. "I like her, she doesn't beat around the bush... Though..." he leered a bit, "There's something to be said for beating around the bush." Max did like the little games.

"You smell," X says.

Matter-of-factly.

"It is difficult to miss."

What? It is the truth.

What.

Alanna lets out another half-laugh, half-cough. Recovering, she flashes an unrepentant and amused grin at Max, while trying not to inhale too deeply.

"I like her, too."

After taking a moment to sniff at himself, Max shrugs. "You must have a pretty good sense of smell, because I've got nothing..."

He quirked an eyebrow at Alanna's almost-laugh. "You just keep on laughing. I'm sure she's going to smell something socially awkward on you next."

"I," Alanna announces, sounding superior, "had a bath."

Alone.

"Care for a drink?" she grins.

"That does not help," X says promptly.

Neither the bath nor the drink.

"'Course it does," Jack counters, weaving his way across the room and finally strolling up to the small group. A bottle of rum dangles from brown fingers with casual ease.

"Not so good when the rum's gone, but when you're in the way of having it, helps all manner of things."

In the middle of a sip of wine, Alanna nods and points to Jack: What he said.

"'Tis hard to celebrate without it," she adds, solemnly.

This is, of course, complete nonsense. She's just in the mood for this sort of celebration.

"That's what she said," says the grinning sandy-haired man who's just now making his way over to the group with a platter of tasty things.

"So...what'd I miss?"

"All the fun and half the drinking. But there's some left." Unless Jack's gotten to it.

"There is a lot of alcohol left," X cuts in.

She is good at being scrupulously exact.

"And if Mel is not here, it is better not to have sex."

She is not sure what other kind of 'fun' Max could be talking about. He is pretty transparent about that.

"Hope Mel doesn't have plans later," Alanna mumbles into her cup.

Seconds later, her eyes dart sideways.

No one heard that, right?

"I don't know who this Mel is, but no one bothered t'tell us," announces Abigail, as she sashays up to the group, looking smug, and reaches all the way across the table for a pitcher of wine. Playfully, she ogles Max and refills his cup before hunting up one for herself and one for Raph.

"You're new," she says to Mike, giving him a quick once-over.

Smiling cheerfully, she then steals a piece of food off Mike's platter and pops it in her mouth.

Mike doesn't know who this blonde lady is, but he likes her moxie from the get go.

"And bendy," he adds for good measure. "Try the chocolate ones, they're to die for."

How he ever found Tortall appropriate attire in that shade of orange is anyone's guess.

Max feels that it would be a crime not to ogle Abigail right back. He hopes Raph doesn't see that. "You know, Alanna," Max looks over at their hostess, "you know how to throw a party."

Alanna grunts and wonders to herself if Max has ever met Lilly.

"I had a friend who said the best parties always throw themselves." To Mike: "How did you get here?"

She's pinning him with a suspicious gaze. Not suspicious of him. Suspicious of her own sanity and/or sobriety.

Mike wiggles the fingers of his free hand. "Maaaaaaaaaaaagic. Here, I made these special for you."

"But the bar..."

Her eyes remain on his, despite a nearly overwhelming urge to look down. She suspects he's made brownies and really doesn't want to have to kill one of her very dear friends.

"I'll pass."

Edited 2009-10-21 15:06 (UTC)

Abigail suffers no such concern or prior experience, and so she neatly swoops in and helps herself. Again.

"Goddess, I don't know who y'are, but I'm happy t'meet you."

Beat.

"Bar?" Realization sets in. Her eyes widen then narrow, and she parks herself directly in front of Mike, licking her fingers one by one. "Another one, then. Good. I'm Abigail."

There's not enough time for Mike to mug a hurt expression, because a tiny blonde woman vying for all his attention.

A tiny blonde woman named...

"Abigail? Shut up!" he says as his grin grows wider by the second. "You know, should totally tell your brother not to quit his day job, because that painting Raph's got does not do you justice at all."

Mike doesn't even bother to look around at who in the surrounding group he's passing off the tray to, but someone should take it, because it's a distraction, and Mike wants to focus all his attention on the woman that gets his brother to wear manly leggings.

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