sugar talking.

location: Rosalie's

Rachel had a few friends who had wanted to go to the very trendy performing space for awhile now. It sounded like a fun night and she was always up for an excuse of a random night out that was a little bit calmer. She could say so far it had been a good time and the band sounded great. She stepped away from her friends to go grab another drink at the bar, but as she walked over she noticed a familiar face. Rachel felt like if she stared for too much longer it would be weird, so she just decided to approach. Relieved that her brain helped supply how she knew her right at the moment she was in front of her. "Hi! Sorry to bother you, but I just totally recognized you and realized...are you friends with Cesar?"

Famous words of the Rosalie Harrigan looped through her mind the moment the woman - far too sweet, if Alix were asked - appeared in front of her. One that prompted three possibilities to present themselves to Alix concerning this individual she did not recognize: law enforcement, someone unfortunate enough to have crossed paths with an Alix and Cesar special con, or someone hoping the name drop would be enough to charm their way into complimentary cocktails, desserts, or a conveniently forgotten bill. Any and all were plausible.

A dazzling Hollywood smile unfurled across her features on instinct, her hands releasing their grip on the neck of the champagne bottle arranged within its chiller to find purchase upon the marble bar counter. "No bother at all but..." feigned confusion surfaced within her expression through the slight pout of pink glossed lips, a mild furrow of her manicured brows, "... Cesar.... Cesar who exactly?" Flores. Tall, dark and handsome. She knew precisely which Cesar and yet, the act must play on until confirmation was obtained of the woman's identity.

"So for that reason alone... Okay, yeah. I'll catch a class with you sometime." This time, no arm twisting or guilt tripping. She's a pliant accomplice as she glances at the tray. Four drinks. "Any chance one's up for grabs?" That's the thing with living with Lottie and the Harrigan girls, she's picked up on a few of their habits, like it or not. "I'm just picking up the last of my things. We moved into our place last week." But it isn't just her sister she's bonded with overtime. Offering Alix as warm a smile as her serious expression can muster, she nods; "Thanks for letting me crash."

The urge to ask if Amelia was serious nearly slipped out before she caught it. "How's Friday morning?" The tote bag was shrugged free from her shoulders, allowing it to fall onto one of the kitchen island stools before glancing back over her shoulder. "One's yours already. Unless you want two?" One of the four was always allocated for Amelia. "There's an extra in the chance anyone was over or someone wanted to throw it in the fridge for later. Or, hey, you want to take it with you for Selin?" After the text exposure she'd finally viewed yesterday morning, Alix had been grappling with an approach to soothe the burn. "Please. You don't have to say thank you." A hand rose to wave in the air between them, dismissing the thanks. "I liked having you here." A nonchalant shrug followed as neared Amelia, working to extract one of the lattes from the tray. "Have you talked to her, by the way? Selin?"

"Me? I want a cannon and I wanna launch people into the pacific ocean." Specifically because this hypothetical wedding would solely take place with the west coast as a backdrop. Her hand traced the imaginary trajectory through the air before ending somewhere over the water. "And it's a contest, obviously. Ranked on best landing. Bonus points if a dolphin appears." A production, if she had a say. "Not exactly a fairytale," her shoulders lifted in an absent shrug, "but I think it'd be way more entertaining. So, you can have whatever you want." A pause as a grin tugged at the corners of her lips. "You want Area 51?"

"Morning." Amelia hums from her spot in the entryway, whilst sorting through a few tote bags. Catching the striking color of blonde, it's none other than Alix, which prompts a small smile. One of the few to try and befriend her since her start at The Reserve, and as of recently, her temporary roommate (if you could call it that in a Penthouse this size) while she looked for a place. "I'm just picking up the last of my things." As generous as her new sister has been in letting her stay, Amelia isn't the penthouse type (as proven by her non-organic milk in the fridge, and making use of their untouched laundry room). "You just heading out, or coming home?" Who's she to judge? Nothing wrong with fun either way. Especially these days.

"Right. So, she's from California, but she studied in Bali or something. Whatever." A dismissive flick of her wrist accompanied the end of the sentence, entirely at odds with the fact she'd been hanging onto every word the woman had said. "You should come with me sometime." The smile that lingered across her face was all the proof anyone needed that Alix had yet to surrender to Amelia's long-standing campaign against anything athletic. Tennis, she'd reluctantly accepted as a lost cause. But somewhere in the endless catalogue of boutique fitness classes New York insisted on reinventing every six months, there had to be one they could claim as common ground.

" do you --- no it's fine. they just seem a bit strict. " if strict could be the word , he swore he had seem a couple of automatic weapons and for whatever reason since his incident he was feeling a bit nervous. he would never express it to anyone explicitly , maybe he should , but he didn't deem it necessary. his parents were never one on expressing their feelings or allowing their children to so that habit carried onto adulthood. this is also the first time harry had ever been hurt in such a way , doctors were almost concerned his wrist broken but he was healing nicely.

Alessandro greeted the man with a handshake, embodying the showman bravado he'd donned numerous times over, slipping easily into it due to both alcohol and adrenaline. "My friend — Alix Harrigan, of the Malibu Harrigans — and I have quite the patriotic bet for you tonight, though you'll have to promise not to report us to the Gaming Commission if you want the reward." His practiced laugh rang out as he nodded to the blonde to reveal their options. "What'll it be, Councilman? Purple for the mountains' majesties, blue for the shining seas, or red for the beating hearts that keep this country strong?" Turning slightly to Alix, he flashed a private, knowing smirk. Even with his secrets and, by extension, his whole life on the line — that wouldn't stop him from rigging their little bet in his favor.

Her gaze lingered on the display before lifting to meet the senator's, only to wander past him entirely - out toward the Atlantic, where the waves rolled in over themselves. Then she returned to the target. The smile she'd worn from the beginning hadn't shifted a mere fraction. "He's so dramatic," she confided with quiet amusement, as though Sandro wasn't standing right beside them. "Always has been. He has such a way with words..." Her eyes flickered briefly toward the candy before finding the senator's once more. "Love the suit jacket, Councilman. White truly brings out the blues of your eyes."

He and Alix were two creatures of luxury comforts with a shared penchant for forward momentum, and so, the champagne and liquor flowed freely on their tongues well into the sea-salt-soaked evening, dulling his senses to the point of confusing comfort for safety. The buzzing of his phone remained ignored for the better part of an hour, retrieving the device only to take a photo of them swirling lollipops into their champagne flutes. Seeing the message, his easy, camera-ready grin contorted into a mask of tipsy confusion, eyes blinking to stop words from shrinking and enlarging of their own accord even while their meanings remained wholly unchanged.

Too drunk to form a plan and too desperate to remain unmoving, he slung an arm around the blonde's shoulder, letting frenzied confidence lead the way. "Dolcezza, let's play a little game. I spy with my little eye...the most unlikely person we could get to mix candy into his drink." He gestures in the direction of the man he's fairly confident is the councilman. "Come on, let's see if we can't convince him otherwise."

"You're a genius - he's so boring. I read in US Weekly that his idea of a fun Friday night is sailing and grilling. Or," a brief, solemn pause, "curling up with a good book." The contortion of disgust that threatened to surface within her features was refrained. She straightened slightly within the easily bracket of Sandro's arm slung over her lithe shoulders, heels falling into step beside him. "I've got blue raspberry, cherry bomb, and grape flavour left." A sideways glance up at him, ocean eyes bright with mischief. "Wanna make a bet which he'll go for?" The smile that broke across her face as they approached the Councilman was nothing short of dazzling, awaiting Sandro's lead though not before a quick whispered, "my money's on blue raspberry."

" do you think this is violating dress code ? " he looked down at his wrist splint. " i tried to find one that matched the occasion but everything was black or this weird grey. " however , he knew if anyone could find a great matching accessory it would be alix. he paused looking at the woman's dress , " is that intentional the way your dress , " he motioned on his own shoulder.

The pivot to her dress pulled her brows upward before the shimmy followed, one shoulder rolling up and back down. "Yeah! Do you not like it? I thought it was cute." The way the lace contrasted with the silk of the dress. "Actually, don't. Don't tell me if you don't like it." A dramatic raise of her palm between them to stop him prior to his habit of saying precisely what was on his mind. "I have no change of clothes and I already changed seventy times." She actually did, but that would require her returning to the villa they'd rented for the week.

"Roger that." A two fingered salute from her temple accompanied the words as the entirety of her response on the matter. She wouldn’t be on the lookout, not even if she wanted to because she couldn’t see that far at present. Truthfully, she was surprised Celestina wasn’t glued to his side like every other time she’d seen the two. On the bright side, Alix could slot that as another thing that never would garner her concern nor care. What did seize the full and immediate attention of her senses was her drinks of choice, shots of Clase Azul, hitting the bar top. "You have to do a toast." The statement left her entirely serious, as her index and thumb reached forward for the crystal shot glass.

“𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢’𝐦 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧’ this ain’t cool and all,” romy was mid-ramble, a few drinks deep and pretty high, telling alix what she’d rather be doing while in the hamptons. “but they got a state park with actual cold war bunkers around here. like, imagine how cool that would be.” she lifted a brow, glancing over at the woman she considered a softer, more nurturing version of her own sister. naturally, romy would rather be exploring wilderness and old war bunkers than attending a luxury hotel opening. though she had been enjoying the open bar situation. “did you come here with charlie?” she asked, pivoting suddenly, drinking alix in with big hazel eyes. she looked, as always, devastatingly beautiful. “you look really pretty. i like your dress. how the one sleeve, it’s, like,” she motioned, “it looks like it’s fallin’ off your shoulder. that’s neat.”

" i'm surprised the scary twins , " that's what he was calling celestina and camila , " didn't paint everything white. they sort of have this mad queen vibe going on and it's totally fucking with me. " he paused leaning closer to alix in a loud whisper after taking a bite out a random strawberry he found. " i could've sworn the del castillo one wanted to laser my head off with her eyes. i could just feel it. " and he knew if it were possibly she would've unlocked that ability long ago -- evil queen and homelander all in one. he looked over to alix , " that thing , " he pointed at her purse , or what she called a purse. " is like a magician's hat -- what'd you bring ? "

"For the record, I don't think there's anything wrong with you. I don't even think they're looking at you. That's just their faces. Never seen either of them crack a smile that's wider than the editorial smiles. You know those ones?" Never full teeth, she meant. The hand grasping her champagne flute gestured vaguely to her own countenance just before her gaze landed upon it and lifted it to her lips for a sip. "Hold this." The flute was passed forward, or rather shoved into his possession as she brushed her fingers off on a nearby napkin and then set her tiny sea shell purse onto the table, undid the clasp and revealed the contents. "Lip gloss, lollipops, starburst candies, mints," a pause, as she opened the tiny pink container and launched one (gently) at Francis' face, "ID, compact, perfume, mini taser. The essentials."