sugar talking.

@alixharrigan | Alix and Amelia, The Penthouse days after the White Party

A cheery response of, "morning!" rang out across the penthouse as she made her way inside. The oversized pink Chanel tote had begun its familiar descent from her shoulder, forcing her to hitch it back into place while simultaneously extending a precariously balanced tray of iced matcha lattes toward Amelia in a wordless plea for assistance. "Coming home - from this sunrise rooftop Pilates class in the Village, it was incredible. The instructors from California," obviously, New York would never be so vein. "And she - " a pause interrupted the thought as she rescued the tote from sliding clean off her shoulder.

"Why?" The teasing slipped away almost as quickly as it'd appeared, genuine concern softening her expression as she searched Harry's face. "Did someone say something to you?" She narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. "And don't you dare lie to me." The seriousness lasted all of a second, overridden by a laugh that threatened to spill over at whatever expression he'd pulled with picking up his own faux strap. Her head gave a small shake once, lips pressing together to contain it. "I like it." One shoulder lifted in an exaggerated shrug as she gestured toward him. "No, I brought like, five, but I kept changing over and over, back and forth, blah blah, so in total it was probably seventy changes of the same five outfits." A pause. "But I like your outfit."

At the confirmation that the man in question was Pantheon's target du jour, he breathed out a sigh of relief, eyes setting on the man as she offered a challenge within a challenge, albeit unbeknownst to Alix. "I'm all-in on the cherry bomb. Both parts of the name account for two favorite things of any hot-blooded politican," he whispered back to her with a smirk before immediately turning his attention to the man of the hour, lips curling from smirk to bright smile. "And, speaking of hot-blooded politicians...Councilman Duarte. Wonderful to see you tonight."

The wager was sealed with nothing more than the slightest wink before Alix's attention drifted toward the unfortunate target in question. A quiet tsk clicked against the roof of her mouth, serving as little more than a distraction from the laugh threatening to escape. Barely contained, it disappeared beneath the radiant smile that settled across her features instead. As though someone had snapped a clapperboard and yelled action directed at her, the mask overrode her demeanor fully like a second skin. "Councilman, it's a pleasure." Her favoured hand extended in greeting, one that passed the point of pleasantries when her other hand met the politicians arm in a subtle second touch point. Fleeting, however, when her attention turned to follow Sandro's lead, producing the three lollipops in question from the mini Chanel sea shell purse slung over her shoulder. The options displayed with a purposeful positioning of blue at the top.

Rather than muster even the slightest pretense of indignation, Alix's current relationship with champagne rendered the notion entirely impossible. Therefore, the reminder to leave her off the Christmas list earned nothing more than a bright laugh. The reality would remain that she held the ability to snatch his wallet and take it shopping though she felt no need to express it. "Hamster." Doubling down on the accusation, one hand rose a slender pink manicured index finger to aim directly towards his face. "Oh, come on, Alfie, it's the Fourth." The words tumbled free punctuated with a dramatic whine. "Have you looked around? Even The Don's over there pouring drinks like it's Palm Tree Festival." In reality, it was the other brother that had assumed that position, but the specifications had no place in her world at the moment. "You want one?"

*setting: terrace bar @ villa aurelia, an hour after pantheon's message bc he's dumb *closed to: @alixharrigan

The last remnants of the cherry lollipop met their end between her teeth before the stick left her glossed lips and was wrapped in a napkin for trash. Intoxication notwithstanding, her eyes followed Sandro's gesture across the terrace and scrutinizing the man in question akin to a puzzle of scattered pieces she was fitting together within her mind. Councilman Duarte was an instant recognition - one she'd read up on plenty of times prior. She could read him from across the terrace by the way he stood, the particular self-importance of a man who believed he'd be President one day.

Between the sun, the champagne and the joint he had just smoked with someone near the water, Cesar was feeling great. Finally at ease and he had found a good hiding spot for the treasures he had collected tonight. He just hoped he wasn't too drunk to retrieve them later. His smile was easy when he spotted Alix in the middle of the crowded boardwalk. "My only critique is that there aren't any jet skis. I was really hoping to jetski at this thing." He laughed as he thought about it, glancing at the water one more time before holding out his arm for her. "You want to go get into some fun? I think some of these people are taking themselves too seriously." He tipped his sunglasses down his nose and looked her over. "Very sexy, Miss Harrigan. Let's get drunk."

"You sound just like Charlie." If she had a dollar for every time someone said jet ski to her this year, she'd have enough to fund a live in sort of psycho therapist for Francis' grieving era. Or maybe she could just send him off to space and by the time he returned he'd be back with better blond hair. "Find him he's probably got, like, 3." One, for the record, and he treated it like a minor religious artifact that no one else was permitted to touch, but that wasn't her problem. "Stop, my boyfriend's gonna get all jealous." A playful jest and nothing more as she twirled a stray piece of blonde hair from the Pam Anderson inspired hairstyle. "Ooooh," pink glossed lips narrowed into an O shape at the mention of getting drunk as her champagne flute lifted in his direction. "You're late. I've already gotten there. We're playing catch up for you." Without warning, her arm hooked into place on Cesar's and was already redirecting them both toward the bar. "Where have you been all night, anyway?"

"Whether it is or isn't, who cares?" He certainly shouldn't. "Just wrap a handkerchief around it if it's bothering you." Delivered in breezy nonchalance for she had already moved past the concern entirely. An injury outranked whatever the hosts thought they were owed in terms of deference, and they could think whatever they liked about that. The Mob holding a chokehold on this city did little to quite frankly, zero work, on changing Alix's mind on that front.

Who: @pantheonhqstarters Where: the white party

Dom and Don had a certain phonetic proximity once they hit her ear, largely due to the fact that on the scale of inebriation, she currently landed somewhere in the realm of Lindsay Lohan’s Mykonos era. So, sue her that for the last fifteen minutes, and for the remainder of the evening, she would be operating under the conviction that the Don of the fucking mafia was dishing drinks out like he had the prime VIP booth at Amber Lounge during Monaco's coveted F1 weekend. Therefore, the mention of Celestina produced nothing more than a laugh escaping into the white party air. Why wouldn’t his girlfriend be fully aware of his attendance?

who: @alixharrigan where: white party

"If you built a bunker, what would you put in it?" Apparently that was where her mind had wandered to while the champagne flute absently twisted in her grasp, her attention shifting over each waiter walking by for a glimpse of truffle pasta. Would it sue the billionaires to provide it? "Yeah." She answered, her gaze now turning to meet Romy's with a smile breaching her features. "Where's your fiancée? Think Charlie's gonna take him parasailing?" A joke, on all accounts. It's the motion towards her dress that prompted Alix to do a silly shimmy of her shoulders in response. "Thanks! Thought it was fun. You can have it, if you want." A genuine offer, similar to one she'd bestow upon her own sister. "I like your dress, too. Really pretty. Speaking of white dresses, have you thought of how your weddings gonna go?" A pause. "You know, that I know, that you don't have to do a wedding. But Francis did ask me for planning advice, so that actually makes me your wedding planner. Or not wedding. Whatever you wanna call it."

Grasped between two fingers, void of any chopsticks or utensils in sight, another sushi roll - California, to be exact, for obvious reasons she favoured it - was lifted to her lips. Followed by another, and another - similar to a mini conveyer belt up all whilst Francis spoke. The only reaction came with her blue eyes rolling north to her peripheral to shoot him a funny sort of look when he pointed at her white Chanel seashell purse. "It's a limited edition. You want a what's in my bag edit? I'll give it to you." Was mumbled over the next sushi roll she was chewing through. Blame her lack of social manners at the moment on the fact it was Francis, but also the champagne she was plowing through as though it were provided specifically for her.

Blue eyes squinted dramatically at her cousin, leaning in closer to scrutinize the eyebrows in question. As she did so, the hand that grasped her fourth ( no, fifth ) champagne flute of the evening retracted backwards. "Why do you have a unibrow right now?" One likely sponsored by the Dom Perignon she was drinking like it was water. "No, no, it doesn't look like a caterpillar. Maybe more hamster." Her stance now straightened, a laugh slipping past her lips that was only dislodged by the the flute lifting to pass a sip before it lowered to her waist. "Oh, so I'm a cry baby but you have a hamster on your face."