"You’re such an angel.”

  She doesn’t look all that lovely. She looks as good as she could make herself look in the back of a car, that’s all—but still, she finds herself warming a little at the compliment. He really is so sweet; it’s almost a paradox to think about some of the songs that he produces—the ones about halfhearted hookups and here-today-gone-tomorrow lust. The way he acts around her, one would think he’s incapable of any such thoughts. She would even goes as far as to say that he acts like a virginal schoolboy, timid and full of heart, bright-eyed and genuine.

  Of course, people wear masks, and people have many different personalities living inside themselves. Still, it’s funny to think about.

  “You’re not so bad yourself. Very handsome,” she says, pressing a kiss to his cheek and then turning back to the driver to retrieve her bags and give him a sweet, soft thank you. It won’t be a hassle to deal with her things; she makes it a habit to travel as light as she can manage.

          ❛    -- Ah.    ❜

There are various facets to Alex -- most of them, he finds, are synthetic. Fake. As fake as the persona he keeps onstage -- the strutting peacock, dickhead whose hair gel might've absorbed into his brain. He's not really like that, but by the same token, he supposes he is if he's using such an elaborate persona. Maybe it's all a part of him. It's very difficult to determine what's synthetic and what's made up by the media, really.

But either way, he's brimming with a quiet delight -- the kiss to his cheek, her sweet words, he can't help the grin that breaks over his face. Taking hold of her bag, suitcase, Alex thanks the driver as well, giving his head a little nod in the direction of the lobby as he offers Lana his arm.

         ❛    M'sure I look beat. Kind of you to say so, though .. we like coming down here. The weather's quite a change from what we have in England, you know -- s'always grey, there.    ❜

  She told him that she was going to come, so that’s what she’s going to do—besides, she had wanted to. He’s talented and good company, not to mention ridiculously sweet to her. And so generous, to get her a plane ticket and a car, to set everything up for her in such a caring and organized way when she easily could have done it herself—how could anyone turn that down? It would simply be cruel, and despite the femme fatale image she maintains, she can’t bear to be anywhere near that level of icy.

  Due to the long flight, she can’t look as pretty as she’d like for him, but she can—and is—freshening her makeup in the back of the car and running a small hairbrush through her hair. It’s not perfect, but it’s the best she can do for now—not that she supposes he’ll mind too much that he isn’t wearing pearls and a gown with freshly curled hair, but still.

  The car pulls up to the hotel and she looks out the window, drawing in a breath, gathering her purse onto her shoulder and opening the door.

      "--Lana."

It doesn't take much to impress Alex--especially not when he's romanticized every facet of this woman in his head, to the point where his own inclinations towards her were so very real. He doesn't suppose his romanticization has ever gotten in the way of him fully embracing women for their human traits--he doesn't suppose he's ever been troubled by women who display their human nature. Selfishness, compulsiveness--sloppy habits that Alex managed to find some sort of poetry in.

He doesn't know how he does it--he doesn't think much of it, but the moment he sees Lana step out into the harsh Brazilian sunlight, his heart throbs and his hand quickly moves to fuck with gelled hair. He's cut back quite a bit on the gel, leaving dark locks mused and hanging over his forehead no matter how much he pushes them back.

Hardly able to think on that, Alex's gaze drags over Lana slowly, and he's quick to take a step closer as the driver climbs out of the sleek car to retrieve her things. Alex clears his throat.

        "You look lovely, darlin'--"

"———- babe, that was like a year ago…and everyone was really mad kendrick didn’t get it. where’ve you been?" she’s pinching at his side, a smile spread across her face as she flips through a textbook with a highlighter in one hand. "macklemore’s an idiot, anyway."

      "Dunno where I was during award season, honestly."

He has no idea. That was during the Brits and well--everyone knows what happened during the Brits, truly. He rubs at his jaw, yelping softly as he's pinched before giving narrow shoulders a shrug and lying back.

      "Guess so, yeah. 'E's got a strange haircut."

anyone want a starter ??? p u p ) /

Arctic Monkeys @ Movistar Arena, Chile (November 11, 2014) by Camilo Carvajal (MonKreative).

           you look exhausted.

( there’s that smile again. she shifts positions, leaning over him to place a kiss to his cheek. that’s alexa, always touching, never asking permission. she kisses his cheek not once, but twice before she pulls away to stand. )

what sort of tea do you want? it’s tea, isn’t it?

      can i have some coffee instead, lex...?

 ( she always preferred for him to drink tea, really--it was better for him, but he's got a terrible headache and he knows some caffeine would do him good. alex shifts, flushing faintly as he's kissed before he lightly rests against his bird's shoulder with a small yawn. )

       please?

there is a method to her madness ⋆

her name is abra and you’re probably pronouncing it wrong.          ⋆ 8 years of roleplaying experience (four with this character)           ⋆ independent angel original character by the name of abra          ⋆ accepting of all writing styles, script or para, whatever works.          ⋆ icons are made by me          ⋆ a slightly volatile muse that will probably make your character say “??????”           ⋆ nsfw themes are heavily explored         ⋆ this blog contains triggering themes involving: gore, sexual situations,           and overall fucked-up material spawned from me reading flowers in           the attic at age 14.           ⋆ typist is of age           ⋆ more or less singleverse but open to opening alternate universes and           whatnot          ⋆ in a platonic relationship with this motherfucker           ⋆ tags her triggering content reblogged           ⋆ will love you always! really, abra is just a fun-loving angel who sometimes            talks to animals and demands your complete and utter respect and dedication.

         HOME     ⋆       ABOUT       ⋆       MESSAGE 

           what is it?

( she smiles, sitting knees curled up to her chest and arms wrapped around them. she raises a brow before that smile widens. )

           if i make you a cuppa, are you going to wake up?

      erm--yes. yea, definitely. 

( probably, i mean--logically, he'll wake up. but he's just as content watching alexa with that smile of hers--christ, she's a dream. alex sleepily rests his head against the couch, dimmed eyes carefully watching his bird. )

        i'll be up n'at 'em..