( there's a faint roll of his eyes, and it's pointed that he doesn't agree--doesn't say anything, really, except to close her hand in his just for a moment; it's just so that he can tug her closer, maneuver her in front of him so that he can bend at the knees, bracing one arm under her ass, and the other arm around the backs of her legs. she said don't carry me in some weird position which means he's carrying her like a sack of potatoes, instead--he lifts, straightening, and drapes her stomach over his shoulder, letting her top half dangle down his back. once there's enough balance there--
well, then it's just one arm, braced around the backs of her thighs, his other hand jerked out in front of them to clear the way. )
Comin' through. ( he says, loudly--there are at least a few staff members who try to stop him, but all it takes is a small snap of his fingers to light up one of those pretty chiffon dresses, blue flames that lick and spit at the hems, clamoring hungrily up the material. with even just a small fire to contend with, there's enough chaos--and distance--that he can keep moving forward, his steps light, not quite a jog but something quicker than walking.
an elbow gets him through the double doors at the back, and then they're in the party: the sudden burst of sound, music and chattering and drink glasses and cards and chips, is almost as bad as all the lights, wincing slightly as he turns, moves forward, tries to put some distance between them and the door behind them.
with a little shrug of his shoulder, jostling her playfully: )
You want me to put you down here, princess? ( a soft snicker of breath. ) Bet we could find you a jacket or something, at least.
( especially if they head towards some of the casino tables--plenty of drunk people, unawares. )
no subject
well, then it's just one arm, braced around the backs of her thighs, his other hand jerked out in front of them to clear the way. )
Comin' through. ( he says, loudly--there are at least a few staff members who try to stop him, but all it takes is a small snap of his fingers to light up one of those pretty chiffon dresses, blue flames that lick and spit at the hems, clamoring hungrily up the material. with even just a small fire to contend with, there's enough chaos--and distance--that he can keep moving forward, his steps light, not quite a jog but something quicker than walking.
an elbow gets him through the double doors at the back, and then they're in the party: the sudden burst of sound, music and chattering and drink glasses and cards and chips, is almost as bad as all the lights, wincing slightly as he turns, moves forward, tries to put some distance between them and the door behind them.
with a little shrug of his shoulder, jostling her playfully: )
You want me to put you down here, princess? ( a soft snicker of breath. ) Bet we could find you a jacket or something, at least.
( especially if they head towards some of the casino tables--plenty of drunk people, unawares. )