streetlight serenade {Alin}

[Flick Arden]

For Your Consideration
I really can't stay.
Pawns: Flick Arden & Alin Forrest
.But baby, it's cold outside
Status: Private, Active
I've got to go 'way.
Current Count: 3881
.But baby it's cold outside
Time: Present
This evening has been...
Style: Ignore the Aeropostal
.Been hopin' that you dropped in
Comments: A serenade, a tea, etc etc. Fun stuff.
...So very nice.

It probably came as a surprise to no one that Flick kept an odd sleeping schedule. Indeed, there were times when she slept all day and was awake all night or took sporadic naps and never really fully went to bed. Today, she wasn't entirely sure which one it would be, since all she was really completely aware of was the fact that Lord of the Rings was such a compelling novel that she wasn't intending to set down until she had read it to its completion.

She was about halfway through by now and it was nearly 11:30, which, while fairly early, was when she liked to go to bed when she remembered. Since her day started early [when she started it on time], it was nice to get some sleep in. Unfortunately, she was not thinking on such logical terms, since it was rather difficult to do so when the fantasy world about which she was reading was so completely enthralling. And, thus, she was not preparing to go to bed any time soon.

However, despite all that, she had managed to remember pajamas [an old pair of sweatpants and a shirt she had found god knows where] and was currently snuggled comfortably up in bed, munching on fried wantons. She hadn't remembered a full dinner, but she'd had Chinese food at lunch and they were still left over, which was convenient when her stomach started growling.

Expecting to have an uneventful night, she continued to munch, turning the page and preparing to finish the book with all haste. After all, uninterrupteed, it took Flick no time at all to read...well...mostly anything.

Uninterrupted, that is.

[Alin Forrest]

Alin had climbed out of his dormitory room's window like a kid sneaking away from his parents. Weapon of choice in hand--a guitar, that is--he was ready to take on the night ahead of him with a breezy smile and a bit of sophistication. Alin didn't really buy into love, but he bought into lust pretty well. He liked the idea of feeling adventurous and romantic, and this had honestly been his first encounter with a girl he felt he could do that with--mostly, because she was about as observant as a blind, deaf man whose wife suddenly stopped touching him because he wouldn't stop asking for beer. Either way, Alin felt like he was in college again, sidling across the wet lawn toward his destination in a pair of low-cut jeans and a tank top that could only sanely be described as ruined.

The moon was high over the clouds, cradled inside the occasionally drifting one like a babe. It cast little light in his crescent shape, but it was still a lovely sight to behold. Perfect for his fantasy dream encounter with the new librarian. Ms. Arden was in for the night of her life--that is, if she didn't throw a book down at his head or chuck a telephone at him. He stopped underneath the window, smiling up at the moon and the stars like they were part of his own grand scheme, working in this plot, conspiring with him to seduce the butterfly out of her cocoon.

Alin settled his guitar case onto the ground and flicked it open, pulling his baby from her holster carefully. His fingers ran up the strings and caressed them lovingly as he stared at the careful cherry-wood finish on her body and neck. He smiled a genuine grin and then tossed the guitar strap over his shoulder, swishing the beast around to rest upon his back before lunging into a tree. Alin grasped a branch and hauled his body up, choosing a heavy branch and stomping it to judge its stability. Reasonably, this might have proven very bad for the man, but lucky for him, the fates had no intention of berating him for his dull, schoolboy endeavor.

Branches twisted away until he was an obvious site to her window, framed by the tree as he sat in his space. Alin pulled his guitar around and settled it in his lap, fingering the strings and settling himself comfortably against the trunk. "It's too late, Baby, there's no turning around, I got my hands in my pockets and my head in a cloud.." His fingers strode up and down the neck of the guitar. He was lucky Flick's dorm window was not near someone else's, lest the possibility of mistake for who he was singing be addressed, "This is how I do when I think about you..."

Alin stared intently at the window as his fingers strummed up and down on the strings. He could see the shadow of her reading on the wall, cast across by a lamp flickering somewhere nearby. He continued to smile his boyish smile as he waited, "I never thought that you could break me apart; I keep a sinister smile and a hold of my heart, 'You want to get inside, then you can get in line', But not this time."

"'Cause you caught me off guard... Now I'm running and screaming.

I feel like a hero and you are my heroine!"

[Flick Arden]

Flick often imagined music in her head when she read, but she very rarely remembered to play it and, when she did, it was more often than not something instrumental, like Holst or Strauss. Though, she had been known before to imagine music with words depending on the subject matter so, at first, she did not realize anything out of the ordinary about the singing going on. It was a minute or so later when, listening a bit harder, she realized that there was actual music playing; and it didn't sound like it was just a recording. In fact, it sort of sounded like it was...live and right outside her window.

Curiosity piqued enough to investigate, she marked her place in Lord of the Rings and set it on her pillow before getting up, taking her fried noodles with her. She made her way to the window slowly, like a nervous cat stalking a shadowy enemy, munching away at her noodles. When she reached the window and peered out, it was too dark to see anything and the moonlight reflecting against the window obscured everything but the leaves of the tree outside. With a sigh, she ate one last noodle before setting the bag down and wiping her hands off. Then, after unlatching the window, she braced herself and heaved it open.

She was greeted with a blast of sound much clearer than when she had been sitting reading and, before placing it, she leaned her head out the window to merely listen. The chilly night air whipped around her face, mussing her hair even more than it had been before, but she didn't mind too much since the music was pleasant and fresh air was a nice change from the stuffiness of being inside.

It took her probably a shorter time than anticipated for her to realize that there was someone singing in the tree. When she noticed the shadowy outline, she jumped, startled, and just sort of stared. It wasn't every day that she found a musician in a tree, after all, so she figured that she ought to revel in the moment. Unfortunately, however, for her period of reveling, it occurred to her that there was a familiar quality to the voice. With a frown, she hastened away from the window to find her glasses, which took a bit longer than entirely necessary, since when she had taken them off last, she'd placed them in her fridge instead of on her nightstand. But that was easily fixed and, soon enough, she was back at the window squinting toward the tree.

"...Alin?" she finally called, baffled. It had taken a bit of staring, of course, but she had finally made the shadowy figure out to be none other than that of her musical colleague. What he was doing singing in a tree was really beyond her, but with the way he was dressed, he was going to catch his death doing that.

"You must be absolutely frozen!" she continued, hugging her arms to herself for emphasis. "Do come inside, won't you? I can make tea, I think I've got a pot..." She turned from the window, absorbed in thoughts of whether or not she did indeed have the proper tools required to brew a pot of tea. after a few seconds, she remembered Alin and turned back. "You're going to catch a cold!" she continued, as if she'd never left off, before setting back on her heels and chewing her nails, anxiously awaiting his response.

[Alin Forrest]

"I'm feeling like a new born child every time I get a chance to see you smile. It's not complicated; I was so jaded..." He watched the window open, the librarian searching the windswept night with squinting eyes. He knew she wore glasses, there was no doubt he was invisible to her. He smiled as the wind swept the branches around him, blowing his hair into his face as he sung, dragging his voice in breaths to the window. The moon filtered through the leaves and danced over his bleached hairtips.

"And you caught me off guard... Now I'm running and screaming:" His voice carried and he placed his hand down on the strumming chords, stopping the guitar music short beneath his voice, allowing it to carry for a few seconds as he waited for her to return to the window. A few minutes passed in softened silence before she returned to her window. His fingers strummed a heavy note on his guitar and he smiled with a big, boyish grin.

"I feel like a hero and you are my heroine.... Do you know that your love is the sweetest sin?" The song weathered off into the night as he stood there a moment in his reverie, waiting for her reply, to find the result rather baffling. A cold? He blinked those large blue eyes and stared after Flick for a minute. He was a man in a tree, singing a love song, for Heaven's sake! Silence, and then, a bout of soft laughter. Alin wasn't one to be easily daunted, and he had found this to suddenly be a great amount of amusement.

".. Yeah. Tea sounds great, Flicker." He unsaddled from the branch and carefully dropped, holding his guitar carefully to his body as he landed on the soft grass in his boots. The wind whipped the tips of his hair around in the same way it assaulted the lengths of grass around his feet. This girl was going to be such fun to be around--he could tell from her smile to the obliviousness that seemed to radiate her in an aura. She reminded him of a careless warm summer day. Alin was struck dumb even as he mulled it over in his head. He placed his guitar back inside its case and snapped it closed, standing up with it and motioning toward the main entrance around the side of the building.

"I'll come up from over there rather than ascending your balcony like Romeo, a'right?"

[Flick Arden]

She was pleased by his acceptance in that she was pleased that he wasn't going to die, but it was probably his parting line that brought the actual smile to her face. Anyone who made a reference to literature, no matter how common, was alright to warm up in her room in her book.

"Yes, that's fine!" she called cheerfully before stepping back and closing the window. Had Flick had the presence of mind to think on the logical path, she would have hoped that no one had heard that exchange. On the outside, it really did seem as if Alin was coming up to do exactly what he had wanted to do [although Flick would never have pinpointed his desire and, in fact, still had not, even with the Romeo reference], which would have looked terrible to all of the other staff.

But to Flick, this was simply a friend offering a friend a warm beverage so that he wouldn't be stuck playing his guitar out in the cold. Who knew, maybe he'd even play his guitar inside.

Wanting to at least have started the tea before he got inside [and taking advantage of her current level of focus], she quickly hastened over to her coffee maker, plugging it in. She went to work hunting down her water jug, only getting minorly distracted by a bag of potatoes arbitrarily on the floor by her tiny fridge. By the time she had poured some water in to boil it, she was feeling very good about the time she had made. It was usually difficult for her to commit to menial tasks, like brewing tea, especially when there was a book waiting on her bed.

She did, however, not manage to make it to her mugs before she was leaning against the wall, reading the nutrition label on a pack of Fig Newtons as one hand absently reached for one. Luckily, Alin would be coming soon, or there might have been an issue with the boiling water in the pot.

[Alin Forrest]

Alin sauntered around the side and opened the door into the dorm rooms after fumbling through his keys a few times. He lacked the sense to know which key was supposed to go to the Staff dorms--which, was ironic, since the same key went to all the staff-block dormitories. He finally located the right key and opened the door after about 6 minutes in the wind, enjoying the cool air across his stomache and chest as it whipped around the corner of the building. He stepped inside afterward, leaving its cool embrace with a little feeling of loss as he closed the door quietly behind him. Up the stairs, to his right, was someone else's door--if he remembered correctly, it was Matella's, but he couldn't recall. It took a good long few more steps down the hall before he came to his destination--The staff rooms were well spaced and accomodating, honestly, for a private school as reclusive as Somnium.

He knocked twice, but didn't really bother to wait for the answer. Alin let himself in with a smile and an utterance of her name, "Flicker?" He slipped past the door after seeing that this was, indeed, the room he had been staring into, and closed the door behind him. The window had found its way closed in the time it had taken him to move around, and he could hear the bubbling of water from nearby. "Ah, yeah, tea," he muttered, underneath his breath before settling his guitar down on the floor and heading for the kitchen.

He leaned in the kitchen, fully expecting something he didn't see, but that was what made her such a prize. There she was, the water threatening to bubble over, reading something on a Newton package and happily munching away, oblivious even to him standing two feet from her. He stepped past her without drawing her attention and turned the knob down a notch to slow the able dissolution of the water into the air particles. "Flicker, Dear, did anyone ever tell you that you seem as a faye uneffected of the world around them? Carefree as the Butterfly, but filled with much knowledge fro your intellectual travels. In short, you'll burn yourself down to the ground if you don't watch what you cook." Alin shook his head and smiled at her. It wasn't that he always spoke of books--as a matter of fact, he preferred to speak in music, but he wasn't speaking to someone with whom his knowledge of notes would be his best foot forward. Alin adored books--particularly fantasy novels that seemed symbolically enhanced, so he lead with that foot, and The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle was right up Alin's alleyway. Matter of fact, he was curious if she was familiar with it at all.

Alin leaned down near her, bracing his arm against the wall as he stared down with those baby blues. "Where's your Tea, Flicker? And mayhap I should make it."

[Flick Arden]

It was a good thing that Flick hadn't been making tea for herself, because even the knocks and mention of her name [the nickname for her nickname?] did not remind her that, over in the corner, there was a bubbling pot of possible death. When she realized that Alin was standing right in front of her, she absently set the Fig Newtons down on the window sill and turned to him with a vacant sort of smile.

"Oh, hello, are you warmer now?" she asked, brushing a stray bit of hair behind her ears. Most of it was pulled into a ponytail, but Flick was not the most expert of hair stylers and so, in her hasty attempt, she had missed a good portion of the front. "I'm glad you came inside, you had me worried." For all of two seconds while she was thinking about it, that is, but still. She would have been worried if she could have focused clearly on such a thought.

The reference to The Last Unicorn [which, of course she knew, having been through about 95 percent of the library and various other libraries] made her smile; not the same sort of dreamy, vacant smile she usually wore, but an actually lucid smile that actually made it seem as if she knew what she was thinking at that exact moment in time. Unfortunately, such clarity of delight was replaced by clarity of horror as what he was getting at sunk in, though even Flick's horrified expressions were made slightly comical by her very obvious lack of focus.

She probably would have hurried over in a flustered flail had Alin not been suddenly in front of her. Well, more over her than in front of her. Being stared at sort of calmed her down, in the sense that now she just felt a little awkward. She glanced up at him, almost flirtatiously, though she was not intending to be so. It was more just the tilt of her head than the emotion behind it.

"The tea!" she repeated, sounding distressed and definitely not flirty. "It's in the pot, over there." She waved a distracted hand, staring up at him in great consternation. "It's boiling someone should..." It was as she was saying this that she realized how pertinent it might be to hasten toward the pot and so, pushing herself off the wall, she did...
..only to change course and go for the mugs as she remembered her need for them, as well.

[Alin Forrest]

Alin smiled a stupid grin as she dodged past him, having been entirely lost in those flirty eyelashes a moment before he noticed that they weren't flirty at all. He rolled those big eyes and chuckled as he watched her get deterred again, stepping around her with his large gait, barely brushing up against behind her as he reached for the boiling pot and turned off the stove. "Alright, Flicker. Worry not, I'll handle it." He shook his mane of blonde hair and lifted the pot, pouring it carefully into the mug she was holding before taking his own out of her other hand.

"I was just fine. Contrary to my scrawny figure, I take chill air pretty well." He laughed softly again, emphasizing scrawny as the sarcastic joke it was. He glanced around and caught note of the book laying down on the nightstand and leaned inside the doorframe as he grinned.

Lord of the Rings, eh? That's about as classic as it comes. He was sure it was probably not the first time she had read that book. She seemed to have been buried up to her waist in the book when he was trying to get her attention from outside. The chick was a bit daft--but so very cute. Alin was appreciating the challenge along with the soft scent of his tea. How blatant can I be, I wonder, before she finally gets what I'm asking for? It wasn't like Alin was a stranger to being kicked out of homes.. sometimes via second story windows.

"So... I faced the orc hordes and climbed all the way up here with the one ring--does this mean I get to have a celebration party with some crazy elf chick that involves some really raunchy hobbit, elf sex? I mean, I kinda have hobbit feet." He'd wink, kicking off the first shoe and stepping on the edge of his sock to reveal his well-groomed foot and hold it up, wiggling the toes playfully. He sipped the tea and wiggled his eyebrows at Flick over the mug as he did so.

[Flick Arden]

She held the mugs out to him, a bit apprehensively. She probably wouldn't remember in a few minutes but, at that moment, she was quite aware of the danger that her lack of observation had nearly caused the both of them [and anyone else whose room the flames might have spread to]. Of course, once the water was poured and she'd set about putting teabags in and handing him his mug, she had forgotten all about it and was much more intent on curling up on her couch than thinking about how she had very nearly caused death.

"You're not dressed for the cold," she said, turning and taking in his attire with a slightly distracted, but mostly disapproving, look. Her eyes stopped at his shirt, which she actually frowned at, before shaking her head at him. It didn't take long for her face to return to its dreamy grin; after all, even Flick couldn't deny that Alin was attractive. He had that fearless minstrel look about him and she could even appreciate the way his "shirt" hung on his torso.

Unfortunately for Alin, she wasn't the type to dwell on that appreciation for more than the second in which it occurred to her and, soon after, she was focused on her tea and finding the couch again. When she had made it there, she curled up on the side, leaving space for Alin should he so desire and facing the direction of the TV. She wasn't used to entertaining guests, but most people seemed to find movies entertaining and she was never really opposed to watching something exciting.

And while she had never intended to interrupt her reading to make tea and perhaps engage in a cinematic endeavor with her colleague, she had intended even less to hear about raunchy, interspecies sex. At his suggestion, her eyebrows flew up and she pressed her tea to her mouth so that she wouldn't gasp. The reaction was not so much to the fact that he was hitting on her [actually, it wasn't to that at all, since she'd no idea he meant her] but to what he was suggesting occur.

"Elves don't...Elves wouldn't...with a hobbit," she said, blushing slightly. "And your feet are very human and far cleaner than most feet I've seen..." She wasn't sure she'd ever been distracted by a foot before, but then again, she wasn't about to try and remember. "You are really wonderful at hygeine."

[Alin Forrest]

The tea tasted pretty nice, he wasn't gonna lie. After all, Alin was a man who enjoyed a great many myriads of taste. He wandered over and took a seat beside the librarian on the couch, facing the television and leaving the abandoned shoe and sock in the doorway to the kitchen. He set the mug down and leaned to the side, nudging his shoulder into hers playfully, "Really, Ms. Elf?" He shot her a pouty look and then grinned, picking back up the mug to sip it again.

His eyes glanced over the room again, a quaint little dormitory, if he should say so himself. He ran his fingers through his hair. The old fashioned, overused stretch above and drop the arm over one's shoulder was the next move in his repertoire of archaic seduction methods, but he was having fun, and that was all that mattered. Flick was a cutie, and it was natural that Alin would attempt to sleep with her. That was just who Alin was--just what Alin liked.

"So, what inspires a beautiful young woman like yourself to wander out here to Somnium? No better librarian jobs in Middle Earth?" He leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling, looking like a kid for designs and images in the texture of the paint. He looked lazy, when truly he was much more excited than he had been in a while--Flick Arden was beautiful, and nutty, and everything fun about a relationship. He bet, if he could actually get her to come around and notice what he was doing, they could really maintain a perfect union--that is to say, sleeping together for fun and not some odd notion of commitment.

[Flick Arden]

Had he not actually gone so far as to call her "Ms. Elf," she probably never would have gathered that he was talking about them [when he mentioned sex] and carried on obliviously. As it was, she could hardly comprehend the fact in her overly cluttered mind. As she did realize this, however, she jumped slightly at his nudge, blushing far more red than she was sure she'd ever blushed before [though, admittedly, it was not as red as it could have been]. Luckily, she'd taken a few sips of tea, or those few sips would have been on her pajamas. She laughed nervously, more of a giggle than anything else, and still sort of spacey and dreamy sounding.

"Really," she said, absently leaning into his arm as it found its way around her shoulders. She obviously wasn't the type to notice that there was suddenly extra cushion behind her head or that it was far warmer [and a little bit more comfortable] than the couch or even that it smelled vaguely of cologne. Indeed, the fact that all of these things were now true only caused her to scoot closer to the comfortable/warm/pleasant smelling object as she reached for her remote to turn on the television. It was a random sci-fi that popped up and she had the presence of mind to turn the volume down so that they would not be attacked by anyone shouting about aliens or anything.

"Oh," she said as he asked, flushing a bit more at his beautiful comment, though it only took her seconds to forget he had even said it. "This is my favorite place in the world..." That dreamy smile crept across her face as she gazed blankly toward the TV. "Everything here is so much better than everywhere else. My grandmother sent me here as a freshman and it was the most wonderful thing..." She turned to look at him, a little bit more wistful than before, and not smiling quite as much. "Middle Earth, though, would be so lovely."

[Alin Forrest]

Alin was pleased enough to grin that big, charming, boyish smile when her cheeks turned red--he'd gotten through to her. He didn't mind that she was a little spacey; he even liked it. She tilted her head into the curve of his arm and he was pleased with whatever she wanted to turn on the TV, even if it happened to be aliens goring the unsuspecting public of Atlantis or whatever shows they showed on the SyFy channel. Flick was easy, unassuming, simple... unlike any other person Alin had ever been around. In many ways, though to different extremes, Flick was just like him.. and kindred spirits were a huge, unrelenting attraction for Alin.

As she curled up like a cat against him, he pulled his hand around to brush his fingers against her bare arm. He turned his head just a notch to the side and took a deep breath, getting a nice scent of what shampoo Flick preferred in the pretty waves of her brown hair against his chin. Someone on the TV was shooting some phaser at another someone, but Alin was a bit distracted with how nice Flick's body felt curled up against him. Alin didn't just flirt for the sexual experience--every bit of brief romanticism, from the cuddling to the talking to the getting to know someone intimately; knowing whether they enjoyed their feet rubbed or their ear whispered against down to their hair pulled and their hands tied behind their back... these things all fascinated Alin. Simple truths about how people lived their lives--whether they feared nothing or everything, whether they loved or lusted--these were the cherished pieces of knowledge that he held within his mind.

When she said that this was her favorite place, he wasn't surprised.. Somehow, that seemed an answer that was perfectly possible for someone like Flick, who lived as if she was half-asleep even in the waking world. He hadn't expected the answer, no.. if he had, he would have stated his question less callously--rerouted the ideal to be more favorable to her favorite place. Alin liked guessing and researching, always knowing what he was going up against..

But, somehow, he felt that even if he fell flat on his face and chose the opposite music of what she liked, the opposite movie type, and the worst food, Flick would forgive him.

What an interesting woman.

He had paused a moment, the silence only broken by the background noise of the television, while he got lost in her gaze and his own thought. He'd had a lot of interests in his life--a lot of women and men--but she was honestly something so very different, so very capturing, he wanted to be around her a lot... In any way possible.

"Ah. Oh." For the first time, ever, that Alin could remember, he had forgotten anything to say because he had been too busy adoring someone. He'd adored many people, but that had never left him without words before--because, you know, Alin was a man of words, "I suppose Middle Earth would be lovely, but I'm glad you're here. The pleasure of serenading you and getting treated to tea would have never been mine had you been off wooing Aragorn."

[Flick Arden]

Flick would probably have continued being blissfully unaware of the fact that she was snuggling into Alin had he not rubbed her arm. And likewise, she would most likely not have noticed the arm rubbing had she not been snuggling into him. It was more the feeling of being encircled that got her. She was not used to being hugged; indeed, anything of the sort usually made her awkward and fidgety to the point where she tended to shy away from affectionate physical contact that wasn't coming from her grandmother. But this was different. This was not a hug or a squeeze or anything of the sort. This wasn't even really a cuddle--it was lying comfortably in Alin's side, which she had never before seen as comfortable, though she was definitely seeing it now.

Turning to look at him may have been a mistake--she really couldn't say. All that she could say with complete certainty was that, though she'd had every intention of turning away [at least, she assumed she'd had such intentions, she couldn't really remember that anymore], she found herself unable to do so. She wouldn't have called it anything specific or deep, like they'd just had a connection or something, though some people might have labelled it as such. But Flick, like a moth to flame, was drawn into the fact that his eyes seemed as unfocused and lost as hers and maybe, for just a second, they were both thinking on the same thread. That never happened with Flick and anyone, really, since Flick plucked threads out of so many different things, it was hard for anyone to follow concretely.

When he did speak, however, she shifted her gaze back to the television as if the pair had never been apart in the first place. She did, however, manage to keep her attention on Alin instead of the TV, which, since it had moving colors and he did not, was a fairly huge feat for her. She barely had time to register that he mentioned the serenade before he was talking about Aragorn again--a subject she much preferred to...well, to most other subjects.

"Oh, were you serenading me?" she asked, smiling in a bemused sort of way, gaze drifting toward his guitar where it rested on the floor. She vaguely wondered if he was offended by her insistence that he come inside, though he did seem to be enjoying the tea and Flick, too, was enjoying the tea, so she didn't dwell on such notions. At his mention of Aragorn-wooing, she blushed again, though probably not for any reason that he would have thought. Indeed, the color came to her cheeks this time out of sheer pleasure at the thought and, though it was a silly daydream, she would so have loved to actually meet him.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly woo Aragorn," she insisted dreamily, taking a thoughtful sip of her tea. "I think Leo would protest." It didn't occur to her that this statement should probably be explained or it was bound to be taken in some such way that it shouldn't have been, but really, in a few minutes, she probably wouldn't even remember saying it, so there was no need to get all worked up over it.

[Alin Forrest]

Alin was fairly certain there was no character named Leo in all of Middle Earth's considerations. From the Hobbit to the Silmarillon, that name wasn't one he was coming up with any sort of face to. He decided, though, that he'd keep thinking about it for a few minutes before he asked who Leo was. Alin's blue-gray eyes were like mist over an afternoon sky as he stared out the window toward the moon, less interested in the flashing colors of the television and far more interested in the comfort of her voice and the warm feeling of her body.

"Yeah, I was.." He muttered, softly, matching her own dreamy tone. Her whole mannerisms were cathartic, relaxing. Alin had to be careful or he'd end up falling asleep instead of.. well, it didn't matter, falling asleep or not; the night had already been won. In honesty, Alin never perceived anything as lost, so it didn't really matter what the situation at hand was... but the situation was nicer than most, so he was really, truly winning tonight. Compared to the other things he could have done, this was by far the most pleasant evening attraction he might have ever pursued.

"Hey, Flicker...?" He muttered, turning his head down so he could bury his nose against the top of her head again, taking in the lush scent of her hair and memorizing it, "Who's Leo?" He expected it was a cat or something like that. Flick seemed the type that would associate obscurities to new introductions and Alin had gotten pretty used to the carnival game it was to try and talk to her.

[Flick Arden]

At his admission to song, Flick's smile twitched just a bit and, for a second at least, she actually looked flattered. Of course, then her gaze was once again drawn to the guitar and the emotion behind her facial twitching lost in translation as she thought of whole new things to half-display on her dreamy eyed face. "It was lovely," she said, in an effort to make certain that he knew she had been listening, at least for a moment. While this surge of effort would probably be short lived, it was heartfelt while it lasted and, should she remember once more, would be heartfelt again. "You are a wonderful minstrel."

Her eyelids were drooping in her extreme comfort when he roused her from her stupor with her nickname. Normally, Flick abhorred nicknames [at least as much as Flick was capable of abhorring anything], but this one was kind of endearing. Had she had the determination to think about it, she might have come to the conclusion that it was simply because it contained the one thing she liked to be called, but she was not particularly interested in following up on that train of thought.

"Hmm?" she murmured, turning her head toward him. She stopped that motion sharply when she realized that he was using her head as a pillow of sorts and just settled back into him. "Oh, Leo?" she repeated, the dreamy smile spreading even further across her face. "He's my prince." Really, with that description, he could have been anyone. But Flick was not very good at reading between the lines of people's questions or figuring out exactly how thorough they want an answer to be, so she tended to give what occurred to her at the time, whether it was a long ramble or a short bit. And with the way her eyes were wandering to things that had nothing to do with Alin, it was clear that it would be the latter.

[Alin Forrest]

Prince? As always, Flick was vague, but Alin didn't really care who Leo was if the mention of him didn't frighten Flick from his arms. In short, if he was not placed in the same category as Alin, it was irrelevant who he was. He could be her lover to being her father, as long as this did not clash with Alin's position beside her. She was slipping off into the dream world, and for a moment, he fancied the hope of proximity through touch, but Alin would quite probably not be anywhere near her when they entered the second life they both possessed.

Each word she spoke slowed down to a slur, but he was pleased with the warmth of her body and the scent of her hair. Unlike many times where he had found himself uncomfortable but wishing enough to stay beside the woman of his objective fantasies--enough to force himself to stay, even--this time, it was lulling him off as well.. She was the perfect size, her couch was just soft enough, the back of it just the right height. Fate conspired against him, and he found himself yawning.

"How inappropriate..." He muttered softly through his boyish smile. He barely realized that he had spoken aloud at her. The thought had just found its way to his lips, the scene it would make to have him sleep in her room causing him a mild bit of rebel glee. There was something about stirring up trouble that made Alin breathe a little deeper, smile a little wider... He appreciated the fine things in life--like a blushing face or the conversation built around the shock of lack of social etiquette. He could run such circles...

The thought was happy, full of serene ecstasy. The sleepy wave was settling over the two of them like a blanket, and he wasn't resisting it much at all by now.

[Flick Arden]

When there was nothing for her to immediately latch onto, attention-wise, she let her attention wander even further than before. From vague thoughts of Alin and the television came the even more vague thoughts of Lord of the Rings which, though she half-recalled being in the middle of it, could not deter her from this comfortable position. She might have gotten up and actually wandered if it hadn't been for that, but she was particularly warm nuzzled into her oddly human pillow [for Flick, by that point, was not thinking along the lines of who she was currently snuggling with].

At the sound of his voice, she drew her thoughts back as best she could, but after a murmured "hmm," she couldn't seem to find it within her to fully commit to any sort of structured mindset at the moment. So she was soon back to her mind wanderings. It didn't take long after that for her own eyelids to droop and for her to rest her head more comfortably against this pillow that had appeared at her side. It did not occur to Flick that this might have been a scandalous occurence. Indeed, for her, this was a perfectly wonderful occurence. And comfy, too.

With a sigh, she curled up, resting her knees against Alin's thighs and her hands by them. A blanket would have been nice, of course, but this was comfortable as it was and she was perfectly content with what warmth the couch provided.