( alice lets out a small, amused huff, her breath curling smoke that dissipates into the party's shimmering atmosphere. she watches the flicker of blue flame as he lights his own cigarette, mesmerized for a beat before his question pulls her focus back to his face. her lips twist with wry amusement at his retorted accusation. )
"Running is a strong word for either of us, I guess."
( her response is smooth, but she doesn't deny it outright. instead, she leans back slightly on the barstool, the palm of her free hand pressed against the polished counter as she studies him with a calculating gaze. )
"Let's just say I've learned when it's time to leave." ( her voice softens, more thoughtful now, like a confession that slips through despite her best efforts. but she doesn't let the moment hang too long—doesn't give it a chance to turn vulnerable. instead, she exhales sharply and pivots, tone playful once more. )
"But if you need a cover story for when my past inevitably comes knocking, we should make it interesting. Tell them I'm a duchess on the run after orchestrating a coup at court. Oooh, or a jewel thief with a penchant for high-stakes poker. I feel like I've already met one of them tonight..."
( she grins, tipping her cigarette in a gesture of mock grandeur. beneath the playful veneer, there's a flicker of defiance—a refusal to be cornered or defined by anything other than her own narrative. )
"As for names..." ( she trails off, considering whether to give him a piece of the truth. her lips curve into a lopsided smile, eyes gleaming with mischief. is this the Twig or does she just feel in comfortable, familiar company? ) "Alice. If you're going to lie for me, you'd better do it well. I don't want some half-hearted story that falls apart under pressure."
( she holds his gaze, the challenge unmistakable, before she tilts her head. it's almost intentionally cute. )
"What about you? Should I be preparing my alibi now, or are you the kind of guy who never needs one? I hear it's a slippery slope from getting kicked out of an establishment."
my busy week is over so sorry for the delay
"Running is a strong word for either of us, I guess."
( her response is smooth, but she doesn't deny it outright. instead, she leans back slightly on the barstool, the palm of her free hand pressed against the polished counter as she studies him with a calculating gaze. )
"Let's just say I've learned when it's time to leave." ( her voice softens, more thoughtful now, like a confession that slips through despite her best efforts. but she doesn't let the moment hang too long—doesn't give it a chance to turn vulnerable. instead, she exhales sharply and pivots, tone playful once more. )
"But if you need a cover story for when my past inevitably comes knocking, we should make it interesting. Tell them I'm a duchess on the run after orchestrating a coup at court. Oooh, or a jewel thief with a penchant for high-stakes poker. I feel like I've already met one of them tonight..."
( she grins, tipping her cigarette in a gesture of mock grandeur. beneath the playful veneer, there's a flicker of defiance—a refusal to be cornered or defined by anything other than her own narrative. )
"As for names..." ( she trails off, considering whether to give him a piece of the truth. her lips curve into a lopsided smile, eyes gleaming with mischief. is this the Twig or does she just feel in comfortable, familiar company? ) "Alice. If you're going to lie for me, you'd better do it well. I don't want some half-hearted story that falls apart under pressure."
( she holds his gaze, the challenge unmistakable, before she tilts her head. it's almost intentionally cute. )
"What about you? Should I be preparing my alibi now, or are you the kind of guy who never needs one? I hear it's a slippery slope from getting kicked out of an establishment."