ever hear of the ice age?

Toulouse sighed a little bit, taking a step back from the paintings the gallery had just put on display. Something about them was bothering him, though he couldn’t put a finger on it, so he thought a bit of…perspective might help him out. Was it the colors? The compositions? He bit the inside of his cheek, and turned to the nearest person to him.

“What do you think? Is that a nice looking wall, or should something else be there?”

“Well, that’s far more your expertise than mine,” Maxwell pointed out, stroking the bit of stubble at his jawline as he surveyed the gallery. Most of his work was surrounding arts and entertainment, and the article based on his initial impression was already blossoming in his mind’s eye. “It’s engaging, it’s diverse, I think it’s compelling especially in this space...” he couldn’t find anything wrong with it, though perhaps it wasn’t his taste, all very industrial and rustic. To each their own, he supposed. “It’s a rather structured collection, isn’t it? Lots of angles, predominantly neutral with a few nice splashes of color here and there. It’s strong.”

Rosetta shivered as she set foot inside the movie theater lobby, unable to hold up against the frigid weather much longer. Having had a bit of a rough spell with the New Year, she decided to treat herself to a movie after a long day of retail therapy. However, she had simply no idea what to see. Turning to the person beside her, she motioned up to the marquee with a warm smile. “There’s almost too many good choices, aren’t there? Perks of livin’ in a big city, I guess. What are you goin’ to see? I just can’t seem to make up my mind.”

Maxwell turned to the woman beside him with a warm smile, looking back over the marquee as he tried to determine whether his own pick was even worth recommending. He’d never had the most fun taste in movies, instead watching foreign film and arthouse dramas. He had his mother to blame for that, as far as he was concerned, and whatever that was left to mean for him, it always reared its head in the strangest conversations. “Well, I was coming out to see a film I got the release date wrong for,” he admitted, the French crime drama in question not releasing in the states for another week or so. “So I suppose we’re in the same boat, now. I was drifting towards 1917, if I’m honest. I’ve only heard good reviews, for what it’s worth. But what is it that you’re in the mood for?”

Pushing a few hairs from her face Lyria looked around the coffee shops grounds like hawk for it’s next prey. “Oh come on..” She said softly to herself. Moving down to all fours she caught glimpse of the beloved lyric journal she had. “Bingo!” She said to herself as she weaved and crawled her way to it. Just to have a foot land right in the middle of it. Looking up she groaned, tapping the others leg. “Excuse me.. hi.. um.. I kinda need this , please.” 

Maxwell flinched at the feeling of something poking his leg, trying to regain his sense of reality as he wondered whether it had been a pet of some sort? He hadn’t noticed any service animals, and he tended to be fairly observant about that sort of thing. When he looked down and saw a person, it took everything in him not to move again, to make sure that he spared her face. “Oh, god, are you alright?” he asked, ready to crouch down and help until he realized what she was gesturing towards. “Oh! My apologies, I’m so sorry!” He lifted his foot far enough for her to retrieve her book, face going pink. He really should have noticed that. “I really am sorry. Do you want me to - I don’t know, wipe it off or anything?”

Clarion wasn’t sure how to approach any of this. Max was one of her best friends, one of her closest confidants, and the greatest person she knew.They didn’t have to try, they just were what they were. But now there were complications to their dynamic and it was her fault. She had almost kissed him a few months ago when they were drunkenly dancing together and ever since she had just been wondering……where they stood. Did he notice how she started to blush more around him? Did he care? She couldn’t believe she was evoking more drama in her friend group by feeling this way. But at the same time it would be out of character for her to avoid him, so dinner it was. Even though it was at his place and no one was around when she stopped by.  When she knocked on his door she had to have fixed her appearance at least three times, but when he opened it she was all smiles. 

“Hey….Sorry I’m a little early?”

Max counted to five before he actually opened the door - he was only about three paces in front of the entrance, anyway, but he didn’t want to seem like he’d been waiting quite that anxiously. As it as, Clara looked absolutely magnificent, as always, and Max stammered through his smile, only hoping that it was quiet enough for him to go unheard. “You’re not all that early,” he tutted although he was hardly sure what time it was. He’d been ready for a while but that wasn’t saying all that much. Max overprepared when he was concerned about outcomes, and if that meant that he’d spent the last half an hour or so fussing with the plants in his apartment, so be it. He was satisfied by the time she arrived, and thank the heavens he was, because she was too perfect to disappoint and only served to remind him as much. “I’m just glad you’re inside from the cold,” he pointed out with a warm smile, offering to take her coat and hang it on the rack as she acclimated to the warmth of the apartment. “You showed up, so that’s already positive points.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you.” Normally, Facilier wouldn’t warn people of imminent danger, but he didn’t usually drop his stuff, either. “I need those cigarettes for someone very important, and that ain’t you.”

Maxwell felt... something. Something wrong, something strange, something... off, when he reached down to give the man the pack of cigarettes that he dropped. The sinking feeling only proved to get worse when he spoke, but Maxwell, as he always had, as he probably always would, felt the innate need to push against it, veins running hot with the star stuff in his blood, out of fear or adrenaline or stupidity he couldn’t tell. Holding eye contact, Maxwell stood with the cigarettes in his hand raising them slowly, steadily, to the man before him. “I’m not taking them,” he murmured, voice soft as ever. “Just wouldn’t want you to miss that they’d fallen.”

A storybook. He was right. It really felt like some fairy tale; the way he was right there and holding her just right and there was no complications or worrying thought in sight. Max always had that affect on her, but she was sure he had that affect on everyone. It was Max. He was a perfect kind of person and Clara never understood how. “It probably is. I don’t think I’ve accidentally drank this much since that one party…or was it the met gala…” she laughed lightly. “It doesn’t matter. This is the first time it hasn’t made me cry in a while. So I’m going to do my best to keep it that way.” She sighed. “I have no idea why you put up with me….”

Maxwell couldn’t help but to smile in response, enjoying her voice so soothing in his ear, enjoying this moment where they were free to feel and share honestly, and yet, selfishly, he was glad that she couldn’t see the bless lifting his face. “Well my jacket and I are thankful that you’re not crying,” he teased lightly, knowing all too well how aware they both were of the softness beneath his hard words. His fingers carded through her fine, pale hair and his breaths grew slower and all the while more shallow; sometimes he couldn’t tell where the protection ended and the affection began, but no matter what he wanted Clara to be safe and to be happy forever. “It’s hardly putting up with you,” he admonished. “You make it sound like a chore. At the very worst it’s exhausting, just because you work yourself up so very much, but it’s a labor of love.”

@soclosetospring

Clara couldn’t remember why they were drunk. They were at his place with Garrett, having dinner, working on prepping for the school year, and maybe wine had been involved. It was just the two of them for once so she figured some wine wouldn’t be the end of the world but now she forgot how much of the bottle she had and was swaying with him to music she wasn’t sure was actually playing out loud. The song was clear in her head but that didn’t mean shit if it wasn’t real. “Max,” she mumbled, resting her head on his shoulder as they danced. “Why can’t things always be this simple?”

For a moment when Clara spoke, Maxwell thought he might have imagined it. After all, he’d been thinking the same thing, wondering at how good and easy this felt in the face of the war they seemed to be fighting, with the city they lived and loved in, with each other. It was so nice laugh, and yes, to drink, and to experience life with such simplicity. The track they were swaying to wasn’t all that good, but Maxwell didn’t mind it in the background, especially with Clara’s head on his shoulder, her back in his hands. He cleared his throat, hand tightening at her hip. “It’s like something out of a storybook,” he laughed beneath his breath. “Is this why people drink so much?”

@soclosetospring

“Max, we’ve been up all night reading,” Clara said with a yawn. “We should rest. Or at least try to order in some food. Do you want me to call in our usual?” She already had her phone out if he agreed. “I appreciate you helping me with my summer lesson plans, but we can take a break.”

Maxwell pinched the bridge of his nose, lifting his glasses to massage where the nose pads had been slowly sinking into the skin beneath them. “I suppose there’s no harm in that,” he smiled, Clara’s curriculum still flitting through his head. They’d made a decent enough amount of progress, but Clara always took on so much, and if Maxwell could help it she wouldn’t have to do it alone. Anyway, she’d always liked bouncing her ideas off of people. “Am I burning you out already?” he joked softly, stomach grumbling and calling a blush to his cheeks. “Alright, yeah. Food sounds good.”

George paused long enough to pull his phone from his pocket, glad that he’d found one with a good camera. Every once in a while, he’d think to take a picture, and now was one of those rare times. “Did you plant these or are you just watching out for them?”

Maxwell hummed, looking over them fondly. The serenity they brought him was nothing short of a miracle, and their presence certainly eased him into the conversation. “A little bit of both,” he grinned. “It’s certainly a hobby, gardening and cultivating, all of that, but really it’s just a nice place to take a moment. Can’t be far from why you found yourself here.”

“There’s about seven fucking interns in this department and yet I still don’t have a fucking coffee in my hands. What the fuck is going on here?”

Maxwell had been much enjoying his stroll through the building, always overjoyed to bother Garrett when he got the chance to, but when he heard a voice raising he took it upon himself to investigate, leaning in through a doorway and peering at the familiar blonde in surprise. "I may not be an intern but I'm happy to make a stop," he offered with a small smile.

“Huh. New colors. Or maybe they’re not new and this is the first time I’ve been early enough to see the prettiest flowers. They’ve got such pretty little faces.”

He was surprised, however, to hear him reference the flowers with faces - he was used to being the only one to humanize the plants  “They have,” he agreed all the same, glancing back over each bush and sprout fondly. Some are new, you’re not entirely wrong,” Maxwell reassured the man. “There should be new ones straight to the middle of summer if they bloom like they have, but the buds and blooms now are quite special, yes.”

@soclosetospring

Spring always put Demeter in a better mood. The first week was where she felt most at peace, and she spent almost all of her time at various indoor gardens throughout New York City. She completely devoted herself to plants, her own among the many included. But visiting the gardens helped inspire her. She wanted to see what was thriving, what needed more care, and what she could do to make her home greener.

It was there that she saw him. A man after her own heart, truly. He was whispering to the plants, being so gentle with them, and it made her heart skip a beat. She really did only care about people who cared about plants. She felt shy going over to him, but she did. Head held high seconds before he noticed her.

“Aren’t those peonies beautiful?”

Maxwell couldn’t help himself sometimes, when work was tough or he wasn’t sure where he was going in life. He felt so inherently at home amongst nature, and while he was all too happy to bring new breath to the bluebells in the still frigid air, sometimes it was nice to walk into a place where they were thriving without his help, where they could without his paranoia. Anyway, it was nice to remember that he wasn’t the only one who took care of the little loves.

“Hey! Excuse me.” Sophia approached offering a smile. “Could you perhaps get me a drink? I forgot my wallet with my ID at home- don’t even get me a starter.” She giggled. “Anyway, the bartender won’t let me have a drink because I don’t have it with me.” Tilting her head. “Could you be nice enough? I’ll pay you back if it needs.”

Maxwell frowned when it became apparent that the woman was talking to him, looking around himself to be sure before he addressed her and fully tuned into what she was saying. “I mean...” He didn’t want to get himself or her into any kind of trouble, but he understood needing a drink for a party. That said, he was working, technically, covering the event for a piece, and it didn’t seem smart or to serve any of his journalistic endeavors to buy potential minors drinks at a party like this. He remembered a trick he’d noted a bouncer using, turning it on her without much thought as to how strange it would sound. “Can you pull up your Facebook?”

“That sounds very ominous.” Fawn laughed, though she could relate. Ro especially could grate on her nerves sometimes, no matter how much she loved her. “Three officially. We have two other friends that spend a lot of time around our place too though.”

Maxwell shrugged, spared one thought to ho much he pitied his plants when he was away, but he wasn’t sure that both he and Garrett trapped together would be an ounce of help to them or to each other. There had been a bit of a rift lately that had seemed to appear, be it from distance or the mess that Ben had brought back with him, but regardless of the cause he as sure it wouldn’t have been comfortable. “That’s a decent sized group,” he noted, impressed that they were able to live with each other in the first place. “Were you all friends at University, or...? How did you end up living together?”

“I swear these women are going to kill me. To be honest I’m not even quite sure I have a girlfriend anymore. I mean, I hope I do. But I’m a professional at pissing her off and ghosting my friends.”

“Can you blame them?” Maxwell smirked, not sure which women Garrett was talking about initially, then understanding and wishing he hadn’t. Did Garrett even know that he knew? The man shrugged noncommittally and looked up from his laptop, trying to play it cool enough for his discomfort to go unnoticed. “Well I can always tell when you’ve been home,” he joked, glancing around. “What did you do to piss this girl off?”

“Mine was unavoidable, considering we all live together, but yeah. It was fine. We’ve managed living together this long already, we can survive a a few days of annoying each other.”

Maxwell laughed in spite of himself at that. “Oh, thank god I didn’t end up with my roommate in my own apartment,” he praised fate. “That might actually have been more terrible. How many of you are there living together for you?”