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| No title. |
| (2013-02-12 - Now) |
| No description. |
| Maximilien | Last night was not pleasant for Maximilien Amadeus Renaud-Sylvianne. While it had been *fun*, up till a point, the arrival of Cirra Constantin had thrown Max completely off-balance. The pleasant memory was tarnished; the pleasant night was broken. Today, he is resolving at least to make up for one of his mistakes, and try and absolve himself of at least some guilt. So he's here, breaking into Jihl's apartment as he usually does, flowers tucked under his cape. He has very little trouble getting in; traps are easy enough for him to bypass, but tonight he felt like being original. So he climbed up the outside with flowers in his teeth, picked the window lock, and slipped in through the window. |
| Jihl Nabaat | Jihl, true to form, is in her apartment. What i sn't true to form is the fact she's lounging about in a pair of black shorts and a green t-shirt, like a pajama set. Swirling a glass of wine in one hand, she's curled up on the couch underneath a blanket, reading a book. Her wards ping again. "Max?" She asks, looking up. |
| Maximilien | "Bonsoir, ma chere. Happy Valentine's Day once again. This time a touch closer to the actual date, mmm?" Max sets the flowers down on her table as he moves over to her, a smile on his face that still doesn't quite meet his eyes. He sits down next to her, taking a moment to look down at her; when he sits down, he doesn't face her, instead staring off at the wall. "So." He says after a moment. |
| Jihl Nabaat | "So." Jihl is pretty darn sure she knows why he is here; so she doesn't say anything, she just peers over at him over the edge of her eyeglasses, setting the crystal wine glass down on the table again, next to the flowers. She'll let him start. She's EVIL like that. |
| Maximilien | Max is not altogether...comfortable...talking to people. Not REALLY talking to people. He's been hurt already; he's been vulnerable, made himself vulnerable, and been deeply wounded for it. He is not exactly quick to do the same again; he is not exactly willing to do the same, either. But nor is he willing to sit back and suffer guilt in silence. Max is not the most well-balanced human being, but he feels bad nonetheless for what he has done to Jihl, even if it was an entirely human mistake. People use each other, sometimes, for very selfish ends - and to some extent, it was necessary just to live. But this was a case that made him feel terrible, feel guilty, feel unpleasant and unhappy with himself, poisoning his memories even further. Even thinking of it, he could feel...well. Never again. Max looks back at her. He doesn't say anything for a moment; then he leans down, dragging her into a very deep kiss, sliding his hands behind her head to pull her up into it whether she's expecting it or not. When he draws away, his eyes are focused squarely on hers. "Je m'excuse, ma chere. Je m'excuse. I have no wish to hurt you; please, believe that, if you believe nothing else of my words." |
| Jihl Nabaat | Max is not comfortable talking to people in general; Jihl never talks to people unless she considers them at her rank, and there's so few of those that she doesn't talk much to anyone at all, unless she's screaming at her troops. With that in mind... She blinks as he pulls her up and firmly against him, her green eyes flaring open in surprise. She does, however, wait for him to finish talking, before she responds, her lithe frame slightly tense. "I understand that." She says, quietly, letting out a huff of breath. "You don't seem that type of man, Maximilien. I've seen those types. They've all tried to use me." Her pale lips quirk up into a smirk. "They've always regretted it." |
| Maximilien | "I already regret it," Max replies quietly, "So I suppose I am not so different from the rest, in fact, except that my regret has been brought on by my own hand, and not your scorn. I suppose, in a way, that I am both exceptionally lucky in that regard, and exceptionally unlucky in that regard." Max exhales quietly. "So what now?" |
| Jihl Nabaat | "That is unusual, yes." Jihl can't help but be somewhat sarcastic, before she puts the book down, and the plasses come off, letting them slide into her blanket covered lap. She gestures to the area around them. "So what about this?" "Do you truly wish to try to love one of the most dangerous women in existance?" Jihl asks, her voice soft, honest. |
| Maximilien | "What, exactly, is the alternative? Feel guilty for the rest of my life? Pine after a woman who has, in no uncertain terms, made it clear that she has no interest in me? Use my charm and good looks to prey on unwary young ladies?" Max shakes his head. "No, such things do not suit me. I find you very appealing, ma chere, or I would not have gone to you in the first place. You are clever. You are beautiful. And you are dangerous." "I am very fond of danger, ma chere, especially when it comes to my women. You do not scare me, and nor does your love." "So yes. I will try, because I am a selfish man. Does that bother you, ma chere? I imagine not." |
| Jihl Nabaat | "That Judge is a thoroughly interesting, annoying, and strange woman." Jihl says, tossing her hair behind her shoulder in a smooth motion, before leaning forward to put her glasses next to her wine glass. "I'm glad I don't scare you. It makes me want to try to scare you. It doesn't bother me, no; very few things do." She then leans back against her corner of the couch, stretching. |
| Maximilien | Max just sort of nods, distantly. He wasn't an easy man to scare. He'd already lived through the worst day of his life; those who thought that Cirra's treatment of him was the worst he'd experienced had no idea. He lays out next to her after a moment, stretching out along the couch (he's very tall, so it doesn't quite work) as his cloak comes undone, falling to the ground below. His shoes slip off, and, with pinpoint precision, land near the door. "Very few things frighten me," Max replies. He doesn't comment on Cirra. The reasons are pretty obvious, really. |
| Jihl Nabaat | Max and Jihl both sprawl out on the good-sized sofa; she fits on it just fine, his legs hang over. Her minky-soft blanket comes up, lightly tossed over both of them, as they murmur to each other quietly, before she gives him a somewhat-tired, real smile. "Very few, eh? I like that." |