#lola:thread

"again? i swear-- common sense has been chasing you your whole life-- but you have always been faster." she stares at the bloody knuckles, the split lip-- and the body writhing behind him. she rolls her eyes-- can hear the shriek of her publicist, knows someone in this party has filmed this entire altercation. she can almost read the shade room comments now. she tilts her head slightly, gestures to the stairs that lead up further into the cavernous mansion and away from the buzzing party. "come on. don't get blood on the carpet-- billie is attached to it." she heads up stairs without sparing him another look and walks into the guest room. she waits until he's there, until they are finally alone to meet his gaze again. "...you can't keep acting like a cave man every time a man speaks to me. men are going to speak to me-- they make up half the planet."

tonight is no different-- she leans against their shoulder, with a loose tipsy smile on her lips.  “you... are so...gorgeous. why is your face like that? stupid--stupid face. stupid stupid feelings. m’gonna drown in em. why are your eyes so...brown. oh god-- alcohol makes me dumb. i can’t even remember adjectives. just that face. m’gonna shut up--just wake me up when we get to yours. or mine. or wherever. where ever is good.”

“you keep showing up with slightly broken devices for me to fix--and i’m not sure if that’s your version of flirting or if you’re just super clumsy.” lola looks up from the computer she’s currently tinkering with. “it’d probably save us both time if you stopped frying your hard drive and asked me to dinner.” she types furiously for a full minute-- before glancing up to meet their gaze. her bright red lips curve into a slight o-- “...i.... just said that out loud didn’t i?”

she wakes with a start-- her head bumping painfully against his. she groans softly at the dull pain that follows. “ow--- ow--- what-- where-- fucking hell?” she’s a notoriously grumpy  human when she wakes. her eyes are half open-- and she’s reluctant to let go of the last vestiges of dreamless sleep. she shifts slightly, and buries her face in the crook of his shoulder. the unintentional intimacy feels good-- and it takes her a few seconds for her to realise what she’s doing. she pulls away with a start-- and a furious blush on her cheeks. “Oh-- gosh i’m sorry-- i must have been so fucking tired-- i just kind of-- oh--” she feels herself getting redder-- and giving her hair a run for it’s money. she yawns sleepily, covering her mouth. she doesn’t make a move to leave--doesn’t really feel like being alone with her own private murder channel playing in her mind. “uhm-- do you want to watch one more? i’ll try not to pass out on you?” she is quiet for a few moments before she confesses. “i.. don’t want to be alone right now. but if you want to sleep i can go-- i don’t want to keep you up.” 

lola's never actually been to a ranch before, and she's a little surprised but how warm it feels. she's still soaked through from the storm, her summer dress clings to her like a second (freezing) skin, and dripping water all over the her rescuer's living room. gage wasn't anything like she expected a cowboy to be (other than unreasonably handsome), and whilst she wasn't completely dissuaded of the idea that he might be a serial killer, she's too grateful for the warmth and the respite from the storm to care right now. "thank you again for... letting me crash, that's very kind of you." she gives gage a small smile. "is there anywhere i can shower...or change? i'm creating a puddle on your floor. Not a good look."

“Xander you’re going to drop me—“ She manages a sentence in the middle of her laughter, it takes considerable effort to get actual words out, to shape them around the melody of her laughter. Xander’s arms don’t waver, this feels effortless for him— his arms arms hold her close to his chest, beneath her knees and her back. he’s holding her like she weighs nothing but she’s never been a small girl— is well aware that she isn’t light— isn’t petite in the least. There’s too much curve to her, too much frame, but he carries her anyway— like she’s feather light. Her arms are loose around his neck, her head rests against his shoulder. Her laughter quietens as she stares up at him. It softens into a champagne tinged smile and her bright, amused gaze. “All I said was my feet hurt— you’re insane.” Her words are heavy with affection, fondness laces every one and she doesn’t tuck it back, doesn’t hide it. “I’m not sure anyone’s actually carried me before. You’re the first. Feels like there should be a prize of some kind…”