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2037-07-04 Happy Fourth

From X-Factor

Happy Fourth
Date Posted 2015/08/05
Location New York or New Jersey
Participants Ciel, Alexandra
Summary Ciel and Lexie meet for the first time on July 4th.
 
The summer air is thick with humidity and heat, and the combination of the two has chased most of Sam Sikorski's guests indoors where a pile of grilled meats and baked goods awaits consumption. Ciel Kane is clearly not most guests. She has instead found a shaded stair out back and claimed it as her own, sprawled out with long, bare legs that stretch just far enough for equally bare toes to find the sunshine. Her hair is twisted up to the top of her head in a mess of a bun, a sort of 'I don't give a fuck' look that manages to do pretty damn nice things for the lean lines of her neck. Streaks of purple poke through the mass, happily clashing with the fire-engine red of both her lips and her shorts. She'd be stretched backward, too, but there's a healing wound in her side that won't quite let her, and so she's adopted an awkward sort of lean that accommodates its need to not stretch any more than absolutely necessary. She's been inside long enough to claim a cookie and a beer, though the latter sits mostly forgotten and sweating at her side.

Alexandra is all long legs and knobby knees and an overall coltish appearance at sixteen years. Said legs and knees are currently bared in cutoff jean shorts and just a little pink in the ever-present difficulty of the fair-skinned and sun; her shirt is oversized and slipping off one shoulder, the front tucked in a little bit. She's a stylish, skinny sort of teen. She sneaks out the back door on bare feet, something hidden away in her hand and a bit under her shirt, and comes up short with blue eyes -- unlike either of her parents, recessives are funny -- going briefly wide and then casual. "Oh, hey," she says, trying to sound older and cooler than she is.

Ciel's gaze lights on Alexandra several seconds before Lexie's find her. She's already watching her with an amused smile, bright and open, when the teen greets her. "Hey," she says, jerking her chin up in greeting. She takes the other girl in with a quick up-down sweep of her eyes before letting her gaze slide down to rest a bit pointedly on the hidden curve of Lexie's hand. "Feel like a bit of air?" she wonders, and there's laughter in her voice, but it trends more conspiratorial than judgmental, a fact aided by the lazy wink she directs Lexie's way.

"Yeah, it's all cool and air conditioned in there, and who likes that." Lexie tosses her hair, which is long and dark with a natural wave-almost-curl she probably gets from her dad. She doesn't reveal her prize yet, as the jury is apparently still out on Ciel's coolness factor. "You work with Tom and Iz," she says, a bit too know-it-all to make it a question.

Ciel tips her head, agreeing to Alexandra's non-question without quibble. "And Jean-Paul," she provides, and his name on her lips is a bit more French than it is on most others. "Ciel. Kane, not Beaubier. You're Brady's youngest?" Her smile turns up a watt, and something in it looks like trouble when she adds, "Tom's baby sister.

"That's me," Lexie agrees with a smirk, pleased to be known. "Although I'm pretty sure Tom's the bigger baby. Like 'oh my God waaah don't do that everything bothers me' kind of baby." She rolls her eyes, but her brother-directed teases are not particularly vehement. She still likes him.

Ciel's brows twitch upwards, and then her smile twitches wider, broadly amused now. "/Is/ he?" she says with a particular sort of interest. "What're you doing that he whines about, then?"

"Like, existing?" Lexie wanders closer, leaning up against the porch railing. "Leaving messes. Looking at boys. Or girls. These shorts. Rolling my eyes. Not doing homework. Skipping class, which I /told him/ not to tell mom about, and then he /did/ because he's a /jerk/."

"A telepathic jerk," Ciel reminds with easy sympathy. "Don't worry, hun. Just because he skipped his teenage years doesn't mean you have to skip yours." She tilts her head toward Lexie's hand again, her smile stretched to a grin. "And trust me, I'm not Tom Sikorski. You need a light?" She presumes, all presumptuous.

"I mean, I'm pretty sure he'd've skipped them no matter what. Like, not even considering the whole -- thing." The fingers of Lexie's free hand flutter. You know. The thing. "Mom says he was born forty." She stills just briefly at Ciel's offer, surprise clear at this /adult/ offering a /light/. Her mom's chill, but not /this/ chill. "Oh, well if you have one on you," she says, tossing her hair again -- it's clearly a purposeful habit -- and finally revealing the carton of Lucky Strike cigarettes. She opens up the crumpled cardboard to pull out a cigarette with less skill than she'd wish for, then sets it between her lips and leans in.

"No one's born forty," Ciel dismisses with a flick of her fingers. She straightens, moving gingerly for the wound in her side, and tilts one red-clad hip up to dig into her back pocket. Her hand reappears with a lighter, and then she pauses, gaze settling on the pack in Lexie's hand. "Oh," she says, her voice moving toward breathy laughter. "Oh, sweetie. Are you forty? Do you have a grumpy old man face and a moustache?" She falls silent for a beat, then asks with eyes widened, "Are those /Brady's/? Or do you just need some more exposure to the wide world of cigarettes that don't make you look like you belong in the last century?" Her words might trend mildly catty, but there's an open sympathy in her expression that eases them a bit.

"I'm not forty!" Lexie immediately bristles in that defensive, self-conscious way of a teen, confident or not. "They were just -- hidden in the garage." She flushes, which just makes her more annoyed. "Probably my dad's. Mom says he used to 'smoke like a chimney' or whatever and then he quit when she got pregnant, but I think he sneaks them sometimes." She finally leans in to catch the end of the cigarette in the flame and inhales, bringing it to flaring life. To her credit, she only coughs -- a couple times. SHUT UP SHE CAN DO IT.

"Yeah?" Ciel answers, watching this process with a loose smile. "And what do you smoke like?" Her brows flick upward in expressive inquiry, then she tips her hip up again to retrieve another pack of cigarettes. She lifts them in quick heft toward Lexie, an inquiring pseudo-toss. Want?

"Uhm," is Lexie's initial answer as she tries to think of an appropriately cool response to this. Now that she's got her lungs under control, she manages an approximation of a cool, casual exhale of a stream of smoke. Aw yeah. "A superhot chick?" She considers the cigarettes with a tip of her head, the gesture a bit practiced, and opens a hand for them.

"You trying to piss him off?" Ciel wonders, hefting the cigarettes into the air in an easy toss. "Cause in my experience, it's really damn effective. Usually easier if you don't hide it, though." She gives Lexie a considering look, then adds, "Once you get the hang of it, anyway.

"Maybe," Lexie replies, careless like maybe it's not cool to care /too/ much about it. She does smirk, though, and add, "It is pretty fun watching him try to keep from popping." Her smirk twitches back down at Ciel's last words, and she blows her next breath of smoke in the woman's face. Shut up.

Ciel answers that breath of smoke with a grin, wild and bright. "Learn to blow smoke rings," she suggests. "Then he'll have to wonder how long you've been doing it and who you've been doing it /with/."

"Ooh!" Alexandra straightens up with interest. "Teach me!" she immediately demands, because requests are for suckers.

Ciel tilts her head at Lexie, considering for a beat before she straightens on her stair, pulling her legs in to cross lazily at the ankles. "Give me a few good inhales first," she says. "No use trying if you're gonna cough it away.

"I can do it," Lexie whines, but there's nothing to be done but show it. She sniffs indignantly at being FORCED to PERFORM or whatever, then takes in a deep drag. She mostly keeps the cough to the back of her throat. She makes an irritable noise and tries again, this time with greater success. SEE SHE IS A PROFESSIONAL.

"Mmm," Ciel answers, giving Lexie a smile that speaks of nostalgic sympathy as she assures, "You'll get it." She leans forward, extending her hand toward the other girl with fingers wiggled in request for the cigarette. "The key," she says, "is to inhale deep and hold as much as you can in the back of your throat. Then make the biggest 'O' you can." She pauses, smile widening, and adds, "Pretend you're sucking a dick. Perfect shape."

Alexandra tries so hard not to look shocked. Really, she does. And it's not even /shocked/ shocked, like she's not a prude, but man, /adults/ don't talk about sucking dick to her. "Right," she says, handing her cigarette over. CIEL YOU'RE MAKING IT REALLY HARD TO ACT COOL.

Ciel is /clearly/ not an adult. She straightens backward, lifting the cigarette to her lips. She lets it dangle there, loose, for a moment as she says, "Then you just sort of-- cough the smoke out. It'll take some practice to figure out what to do with your tongue." She gives Lexie another wink, grinning, and then lifts her hand to steady the cigarette for a long, deep inhale. On the exhale, a series of three perfect (dick-sized?) Os drift through the air between them. Ciel looks wildly pleased with herself as she plucks the cigarette free to offer it offer to Lexie between the pinch of her fingers.

"You're really hot," Lexie kind of -- blurts out, then half-tosses her hair again to try and recover as she leans over -- a bit purposefully -- to take the cigarette back. "I've got it," she claims, sucking down another inhale and opening her mouth in a large O to emit -- a puff of smoke. She don't got it.

Ciel answers /that/ with a grin and another wink, a sort of 'of course I am, sweetie' as she settles back again. "You'll get it," she promises. "Takes practice." At some sound from inside, Ciel turns, craning to look over her shoulder and up the stairs. There's a moment's pause before she pries herself upward. What ought to be all smooth grace and long lines is instead an awkward shift of weight trying to compensate for the healing hole in her side. Once she finds her feet she says, "Give me a shout if you need a restock, hm? It's just a couple hops for me. I'll hook you up as long as you promise to blow a couple of those smoke rings in Sikorski's face some day. Deal?"

"Deal," Alexandra says, her grin widening across her whole face. She's in love. *_*

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