; i think we have an emergency (delilah)

[AIDEN LEE WREDE]

lover, lover on the fence, bat your eyes
BALL A FIST AND SWING, BEFORE YOU LEAVE

The silence was so tangible it seemed that if you moved it would suddenly turn into a clatter or clamor. Aiden, drifting at an even pace down the rather deserted looking hallway, was the only one making a sound, stepping evenly with the same long strides he'd used naturally since late adolescence. For being the new guy, the adjustment seemed easy enough, because there were only a few occupants in the buildings, and classes were bound to be tiny at this rate. Granted the place had just opened, but it felt good to be one of the few who was lurking the halls for the time being. It wouldn't be much of a stretch to put him in the category of an anti-social person, or to assume that he was completely at home in solitude, so the setting fit his needs for the time being. Gradually, yes, he'd adapt to the rising numbers of patients, crazies, students, whatever the hell you want to call them all. The young man had the right to call them whatever he wanted, seeing as he was just one of the many troubled "kids" who attended Jackson. But these crazies, as he referred to them as well as himself, were far from kids in a way. Because some had endured ridiculous things to become the way they were, like Aiden, who had suffered abuse at the hand of a schizophrenic psycho who dared to call herself his mother. Not everyone here had faced these circumstances, sure there were some cases that were genetic, or just happened, but it was good to know he wasn't alone. Physically though, he was alone, the only one in the hallway he paced, and as he headed for the stairs in the corner of the building at the end of said hallway, he remained quiet. What reason was there to make noise anyway? The last thing he wanted to do was bring attention to himself. Even his footsteps were light, making little more than a short-lived noise on occasion, and he didn't scuff his heels like most people. Up the stairs he went, keeping an eye on the space behind him in a manner of paranoia, but somehow focused on his path.

Paranoia wasn't his problem, although you might assume it was. It was his phobia of being touched, his past issues with depression, and the anxiety due to his phobia that got him sent here to the loony bin. But one year couldn't hurt him right? He was eighteen, and once he finished out his senior year and graduated high school with a diploma, he'd be free to do whatever he wanted, without being looked on as a mentally ill freak. Think he'd be over exaggerating if he told you that's what people thought of him? It's far from it. But he was past caring about this fact, past even thinking about what people considered him as, in fact he wasn't even really thinking at the moment, a little bit zoned out as he continued to make his way to the top of the building. Maybe he was a freak for wanting to be on the rooftop, especially in the warm, humid, slightly drizzly weather, but out of them all, rain was his element, so he would be fine. The hoodie he'd put on over his shirt was a good choice, since the temperature had dropped a bit since the earlier afternoon. Pushing open the window that was the only barrier between him and the rooftop outside, he squeezed through it without too much effort, landing on both feet on the concrete outside.

The reason he'd wanted to get onto the roof was simple: one of his addictions that he was going to have to break sooner or later. Finding a spot that was protected by overhang from the building, he leaned up against the mostly-dry wall that provided the shelter, digging through his pockets with a quick glance around. Again, his slightly paranoid demeanor was obvious enough, but it was because he assumed the workers and staff here wouldn't be too thrilled about him smoking up on the roof, even if he was legally allowed to. It probably would do some shit to his brain, or fuck him up more, according to them. Well there wasn't much more to fuck up, so he was just fine with that. "Shit," he growled, having dropped the cigarette he was about to light up, but he caught it with a quick swipe from the air, returning it to his lips so he could light it, one hand cupped around it to protect the flame on his lighter from the wind.

It was unlikely anyone would find him up here.

- -

( so this post is for delilah! it's somewhere around 850 words but celt still thinks it's quality is pretty poor. it was given muse by swing by taking back sunday )

[DELILAH MARY BROWN]

just about everyone in school knew exactly who delilah brown was. it was hard not to, really. she made herself known. and of course there were always particular little things going around school. rumors, mostly. that she was dangerous...which, numerous shrinks had said, could prove to be true. none of it was really her fault, unless you counted her gigantic ego as a mental disorder, but in delilah's mind it was more of a chosen character trait. she knew she was utter perfection, why not let everyone else know it as well? even if it was only one of her strange delusions. but back to where i was before i so rudely interrupted myself. delilah brown could be dangerous. she had many severe mental issues, a majority of it rooting directly from her schizophrenia. which she liked to tell everyone she kept under control with her medication and will power, even if it wasn't exactly true. just like everyone else, delilah had her moments...many, many moments. although if she was being honest she'd admit that most of the time, her moments these days had something to do with her anger issues...or the paranoia that was one of the numerous side effects of her schizophrenia. and fine, delilah was doing better. since escaping the clutches of her father and coming here, which was actually preferable, she'd been taking her medication more. which, in turn, meant she felt more...stable. even if she still had numerous strange delusions, and on occasion could be found being her usual bitch self to someone t hat wasn't actually there. she hadn't actually hurt anyone in quite some time...yes, delilah had a bad history. ever since she was a small child it didn't take much to aggravate her. even as a tot someone could look at her with crossed eyes and the next thing she knew she'd be bending their fingers backwards. and despite the fact that delilah brown over thought every little thing, she never found herself thinking before doing those things.

but deep, deep beneath all of her regret and illnesses, even the show she put on to keep people at an arm's length emotionally, delilah was a sweetheart. no, she wasn't just someone looking for attention, or that didn't know how to function in society. she really was a schizophrenic bitch. she knew how to function in society, she just couldn't. but she had certain...soft spots for people. or things. or anyone that she deemed worthy of her time and affection. children in general seemed to be deemed worthy of delilah brown's affection, and of course clumped in that category was also animals and the few actual friends she had. and...well, as odd as it probably was, her therapist. but delilah definitely had an unusual relationship with him, since they were actually sleeping together, but no one really knew that part. and she had all intentions of keeping it that way. just because she was crazy didn't mean she wanted everyone to think she was trashy as well. delilah's main goal in life was to ooze classiness out of her very presence with everything she did - and it was a goal that she'd already partly achieved by spending all of her money on classy clothing and being a tease rather than a slut. of course it wasn't an easy process, and delilah had a list of rules that she set her day by, but she enjoyed herself nonetheless.

that is, when people weren't driving her insane. well, more insane. delilah was the first to tell you that she could not stand ninety percent of the human race. anyone too happy, too sad, bugged her at some point or another. with certain people she could ignore it...even though she still complained like it was her job. but of course delilah was blunt. when someone was doing something wrong, even if it was just a part of their personality, she was the first to tell them so. because one of delilah's numerous strange illusions was that s he was utter perfection. that the sun shone out of her ass. and maybe it actually did. at least in her mind. and of course this was exactly why she found herself making her way to the roof: no one went there. she went there often when she felt as though she couldn't breath because people were driving her up the wall. and she'd only ran into someone a handful of times. and when she did, she simply told them to leave, she wanted to be alone. and with the look in her eyes, that said that she was in charge and they had to listen, they always listened. and so obviously as she found herself on the roof, seeing someone leaning against a wall and smoking a cigarette of all things, her first instinct was to wrinkle her nose in disapproval. and while her next words in any other situation would have been telling him to leave, for some reason she found herself going on a different direction. "you know you're going to fucking kill yourself, right?" her voice was blunt and harsh, but of course in an odd way, this was delilah being caring.

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( finished , 868 words , tag: aiden, outfit, )

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[AIDEN LEE WREDE]

lover, lover on the fence, bat your eyes
BALL A FIST AND SWING, BEFORE YOU LEAVE

Ninety-nine percent of the time when something is unlikely to happen, it seems like it happens so much quicker than anticipated. Only a few drags of his nicotine-stick in, and he caught a glimpse of someone ascending the stairs. The last thing that Aiden had expected was company, and what else would decide to show up other than just that? The window that he'd forced himself through felt it necessary to spit out another human form, this one lithe and feminine, a woman, the bane of his existence, naturally. Dressed in a fiery green coat, gray gloves, and other assorted items, she had the strut of a woman who was pretty sure she ruled the world, hair swinging over her shoulders and back, though the light rain would surely put a stop to that. It was hard to resist the urge to groan out of irritation, flick out his cigarette, which he'd only just begun to enjoy, and vacate the premises. But instead he just eyed the young lady with a skeptical look, giving her the up-down out of the corner of his eye, judging within about five seconds that she was one of those classy little girls who had the world wrapped around their finger, and he could only imagine that she had it all together. Except for the fact that she was obviously a student here at Jackson, which might be the only thing they'd have in common. Here he was, her complete opposite in his worn jeans and well-used hoodie over a classic white button down shirt. Go figure.

Now don't take him for a people-hater, much less a woman-hater, he's just immediately mistrustful of anyone and everyone, especially the ladies who come his way. When you grew up with two women, one who abused you half to your death, and the other who wasn't nearly there for you enough, women didn't tend to give you good feelings. It was psychology one-oh-one, because while he was a child, when he needed a mother figure to cling to, there was none, and that gave him problems with girls in general. Yeah, you're thinking he's just making a generalization out of it, and it's a stupid excuse for being an ass half the time. But since when did I ever say anything going through his head made sense? People in general made him hesitant, he did better on his own, though I wouldn't say he never got lonely. Actually, often he was lonely, he just didn't understand this concept, since most of this long and slightly morbid life he'd lived, he had been alone in his fight to survive. It wouldn't be right to say that he was anti-social though, because once someone got on his good side (which isn't a hard feat if you can stand his behavior) he was a loyal guy, and more or less a sweetheart deep down. The boy had the potential to be a completely normal person, if it wasn't for his list of problems with the world, and himself.

For the time being, he was completely immersed in thought, staring off into space across the expanse of Indianapolis, taking an occasional drag of the cigarette to his lips before letting his hand fall back next to his leg. His casual position and the way he continued to lean against the building's support denoted that he wasn't too phased by the presence of another. Until she spoke to him, that was when he immediately began to get a bit uncomfortable, confrontation was not one of his strengths, and a tinge of irritation caused him to grind his teeth, working his jaw visibly. "We all have to die someday, right? Not like I'm changing the future anytime soon anyways," he shot her a quick glance, his face more or less blank. But as if to make a point out of what the blunt confrontation the girl had made was implying, he felt the need to cough, and did so sharply, furrowing his eyebrows. Figuring he ought to start things off on a different foot than they'd just begun at, especially with his first acquaintance, he softened the tone of his voice from the snapping one he'd used a moment ago. "Thanks for caring though," he shrugged, taking the last few drags left from the cigarette before dropping it to the concrete and crushing it with his foot. It was tempting to pull another one out, but he only had a limited supply and he didn't exactly have a lot of money to buy new ones any time soon. Plus, for all he knew they'd keep him from smoking just because he was locked up in the loony bin. It didn't seem like a far fetched idea. But for now he'd keep the slowly dwindling pack in his pocket, since he had company, and that would more than likely keep him occupied for the time being.

- -

( so this post is for delilah! it's somewhere around 950 words and celt thinks it's quality is pretty decent. it was given muse by swing by taking back sunday )

[DELILAH MARY BROWN]

the thing was that, when you first met delilah, she usually seemed perfectly sane. a little angry, yes. and usually a huge bitch, but you probably wouldn't be able to guess that she was mentally unstable. you'd probably think she was the perfect girl - which was quite far from the truth. rather she'd come from a home even more unstable than her own mind. her mother had died in child birth - something her father had always been bitter at her for - and delilah had always felt bad for that, even though she'd been assured a million times that it wasn't her fault. usually by therapists and the like. it wasn't the "killing" her so much that she felt bad for, from what she could tell she didn't particularly like her mother. it was more the fact that she'd taken her away from her father. see, delilah, for what it was worth, was a complete hopeless romantic. anything remotely sappy or cute or loving got her vote. and she was one hundred percent positive, by the way the death had changed her father, by the pictures her grandmother had shown her as a child, that they had been completely and utterly in love. and it was because of that, that she couldn't really forgive herself - she had ruined true love for two people who she was supposed to care about. even though she didn't. see, delilah came off as uncaring. and maybe she kind of was. although it was probably a side effect of her disorder. it took her a while to warm up to people - and even after she did her ways of showing her "caring" were...well, not the normal ways. rather she would boss them around, and do things for them even if they didn't want it. for example, the way she pretty much forced food down her best friend's throat despite the fact that she had an obvious disorder.

and of course there were a few rare occasions, usually when something good had happened to her that day, when she could be in an actual good mood. and go around...well, not exactly being nice, but her insults, even though most of them were teasing anyway, usually lessened during these times. and oddly enough, there was really only about one person on earth who actually got to see the sweet side of delilah...unless you counted the kid's she babysat on occasion. though she honestly had no clue why any mother in their right mind would hire her, knowing what school she went to. but that one special person was none other than dallas wells, which was completely wrong in every way imaginable, but she didn't even care at this point in time. and yes, she was well aware that most everyone hated her. but she made it quite known that she hated them as well. this person, however, she didn't know. and as much as delilah was a total bitch, she wasn't really that quick to judge. even if, in her opinion, he needed an extreme make over. not that he was ugly or anything. he was a decent looking guy. but his outfit - well, she would class it up a bit. then again, being delilah and the queen of class, even if only in her own mind, she would try to class up everyone. with the obvious exclusion of audrey hepburn, who no one could possibly class up in the least. and fine, maybe she'd taken a couple of her metaphorical points off for the cigarette he was smoking - she looked down upon anyone who did anything like that. because she was completely straight edge and had never smoke, nor drank, or anything along those lines. basically, delilah was a princess. at least in her own mind. even if she was a bitchy princess who happened to be sleeping with her shrink, of all people.

still, she couldn't help but grimace lightly at the first words he said. he was right, of course, which was the reason for her sour face. delilah brown hated anyone being right but herself. and of course, being delilah she didn't even flinch at the none-too friendly tone of his voice. rather she simply tucked a brown lock of hair behind her ear. any other girl would be inwardly fretting about their hair, and delilah knew that with the rain hers would be looking horrid soon, but she also knew that after a wash and a style it would be right back to it's former glory. so need to fret. even though she wasn't the type to say there was no one to impress, rather she tried to impress everyone...at the same time, she didn't exactly have to try. she was pretty sure she did it without great efforts. and then his voice, in a much softer tone, one she approved of more than his snapping voice moments earlier, snapped her out of her thoughts. of course drifting off into her own little world was frequent for delilah - though when she was on her medication that was where it stopped. when she was off her medication was when she started to hear things. still, she simply rolled her eyes at him and went on as though there had been no moment where she'd started to drift. "i don't care. i was simply letting you know." the replied, quite calmly, because she was in a decent mood and couldn't exactly say she disliked the guy. he didn't seem like that big of a douche, he didn't seem like that big of a pushover. she had no reason to dislike him. yet. "what are you doing up here, anyway? it's fucking raining. and it's only going to get worse." of course he could say the same for her. and of course one of the numerous things that didn't fit the air of perfection she tried to give off: her vocabulary.

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( finished , 993 words , tag: aiden, outfit, )

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[AIDEN LEE WREDE]

lover, lover on the fence, bat your eyes
BALL A FIST AND SWING, BEFORE YOU LEAVE

The weather reflected quite a bit what was going on behind Aiden's icy eyes, it was hardly what you could call clear skies in his mind, everything was pretty much thrown together, with the darker things shoved off into corners where they'd remain untouched by anything other than reminiscing. But reminiscing holds a positive sort of connotation, so perhaps that's not the best word for it, maybe revisiting is more like it. He'd had a couple of these "revisits" over different periods of time, mostly manifested in the form of flashbacks or physical afflictions (like internal problems from his stab wound, or of course, his haptephobia kicking in), and they'd all done the same thing to him. Terrify him. It was ridiculous how caught up in his own little hell he could be some days and nights, when he woke up from a nightmare or to pain or discomfort as a result of his problems. Aiden wasn't here for as much of a reason as most people here, or so it would seem. He had no schizophrenia, psychosis, bipolarity, eating disorder, no "true" mental disorder of the like. It was all part of his anger issues, and the phobia. Maybe the former more than the latter, since it was his complete disrespect of the "warden" of his previous home that got him in the biggest trouble, and his self-destructive behaviors and addictions added to it all. Maybe the reason he was here wasn't even really about his mental health anymore, maybe it was because he was a "problem kid" and they just wanted to get rid of him. Whatever it was, it didn't change any of his past, and it wouldn't do anything to heal him. All this inner turmoil gave the weather a strange appeal to the male, who found a strange peace in the way the rain fell so lightly, and the overcast skies that shielded his eyes from the sun and seemed to glow around their edges would have made a good photograph.

At first he couldn't help but find some amusement in the way she seemed annoyed at the matter-of-fact statement that everyone had to die someday. But whether or not the brunette girl had meant her first comment as caring, as she protested it wasn't, or just as an abrupt comment to see how he'd respond, it still seemed like a concerned sort of thing. Concern wasn't something that Aiden was familiar with, at least not since he'd been in the hospital around age nine. That was nine years ago. It's quite a gap to go without not only concern, but without physical contact that brought him any sort of emotion related to comfort. Through nine years of stress, physical and mental pain, being thrown about place to place, and finally relocating to a place where he knew no one, and wasn't hardly interested in making new relationships, it was a bit lonely and a bit tough. But being the survivor of an abusive home makes one extremely tough, and extremely hard to break. That was something that Aiden had actually begun to consider slightly funny, the way that some people shattered under the minimal pressure necessary, the way that they gave in and gave up without a fight. If placed in the same situation, he'd butt heads with you -- metaphorically and literally -- until he got the outcome he wanted, or lost. Or so he'd like to say, since in reality he was extremely fragile, but it wasn't something he could admit. "Mmm is that so. Well thanks for the reminder of my impending doom then," he retorted rather quickly to her insistence that her comment had not been at all caring in any way, shape, or form.

Why so snappy, little miss attitude? It was not under Aiden to arch an eyebrow in half amusement, half irritation at her major attitude (It could use a little adjusting, in his mind at least, but it wasn't his place to make that adjustment). Even the reference to the rain was angry, straight, and to the point, leaving no room for fine lines to be drawn or questions to be asked. She knew what she wanted, and she would get it. Just the complete opposite of her once again, like a doppelganger, he remained distanced from the conversation, appearing uninterested with his blank stare off into space. But what completely contradicted his behavior was the sound of his voice in response to what she'd asked, er, demanded to know. This was Aiden being engaged in conversation. "I like the rain, and I don't think I'm going to get away with smoking in the building," he shrugged again, a frequent gesture for him. Not one of cluelessness, but more of indifference. "I could, and will ask the same of you? What gives? I'm sure you've got a better reason than me, because I wouldn't be coming up here for kicks and giggles dressed like that." Sarcasm, very nice Aiden, very classy. Who the hell even said that anymore?

Aiden. Naturally.

- -

( so this post is for delilah! it's somewhere around 900 words and celt thinks it's quality is pretty decent. it was given muse by my own stupidass descisions, kthx )

[ELIZABETH]

of course delilah's personal style was probably one of the first things people realized about her. maybe because it was kind of the first thing she'd realized about herself. growing up she honestly hadn't had many talents. despite the fact that she acted like she could do everything, the truth was she couldn't really do anything all that well. as far as talents went she was strictly average. she had a decent singing voice, she could dance fine, she could play small roles in school plays, she could write well enough to get good grades. and while she could sketch like no one's job, she knew from quite an early age that fashion was the only thing that could hold her interest, without annoying her, or boring her. and of course that was exactly why delilah brown always looked her best...unless you happened to see her when she first woke up, of course, but that's besides the point. even her worst pajamas could somehow look classy on delilah brown, or so she liked to think. and so she liked to tell everyone who would actually listen to her, which actually wasn't that many. the way the entire thing had started was when she'd decided it would save clothes - and that the clothes she made were better looking than the ones at stores anyhow. maybe not at first - it did take quite a bit of practice - but by this point in time she knew she had mad skills. but needless to say, she was not surprised when he, like so many others in the past, mentioned her dressing style. yes, she was definitely not dressed for the slight rain or the roof...but delilah wasn't exactly one to dress to fit the weather or situation, unless it was a complete storm out or something along those lines.

a majority of people though, really annoyed delilah. to no end. one very good example...was, well, anyone on earth. anyone she considered too outspoken, despite the fact that she was rather outspoken as well. anyone immature, anyone stupid...and of course all of these standards were her own. immature from delilah's point of view was probably a lot different than from other's. because anyone who didn't act exactly like delilah wanted them to, there was something wrong with them. of course she'd managed to overlook these things for the few friends she had. diana, sunny...dallas. and honestly, this guy actually didn't seem too bad. he definitely wasn't stupid. and while he wasn't sucking up to her or kissing her feet, which was admittedly delilah's favorite type of person, he didn't even seem the least bit afraid of her. which gave him some major props. as much as delilah liked being respected, she really wasn't a fan of people who cowered like she was going to hit them or something. even though, really, she might. despite the fact that delilah wasn't quite as crazy as a lot of people assumed, it wasn't so unlike her to lose her temper now and again. or really, quite a lot. and usually she stopped with screaming, but there had been times when she'd snapped and swung a punch or two...and fine, when she was younger she'd broke a kid's arm. before she was on her medication, thank you very much. compared to back then? she was doing more than just a little bit better, at least mentally. and if you thought about it, her situation was probably better as well...now t hat she wasn't around her drunken father and his unkind accusations. still, she couldn't help but smirk lightly as he thanked her for reminding him of his, as he so rightly put it, impending doom. shrugging her shoulders lightly, and giving him ten delilah-points, she replied with a simple. "any time." and she wasn't kidding. she was enough of a downer that she probably would remind him, and anyone else, any time.

as she heard him mention not being able to smoke in the building, which he most definitely would not, she had to bite down on her tongue to stop herself from reminding him that it was killing him anyway. that it probably would have been a better idea to just not do it at all. she didn't want him to be under the strange delusion that she actually cared, again. even if in an odd way she did. she wasn't quite as emotionally flat as many thought - she still had enough compassion that she didn't want anyone to die. save, of course, some annoying freshmen. and possibly her father. and her ex boyfriends...and fine, she just wouldn't wish a stranger to die. nonetheless she let out a slightly sarcastic laugh as he mentioned the way she was dressing, and the rain. yes, she was most definitely not dressed properly for the rain. she should have been wearing less...well, expensive looking clothes, probably. something more rain-ready, most likely. and she probably should have had an umbrella or something. "i like to dress nicely for all occasions, thank you very much." she replied, in a half annoyed, but mostly amused tone. "you never know who you'll see." and as much as most wouldn't think it, delilah cared about what everyone thought of her. okay, not like that. she didn't care that they thought she was a crazy bitch....she did care if they thought she was ugly, or thought that her outfits were atrocious. when it came to anything else they could go fuck themselves. and she'd be the first to tell them as much. "but if you must know, i came out here for a moment alone. which i am clearly not getting." at that she rolled her eyes, but it was mostly in a playful way. "and i kind of like the rain too, even if it's completely ruining my hair at the moment. which is probably the only thing we have in common."

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( finished , 990 words , tag: aiden, outfit, )

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[AIDEN LEE WREDE]

It wasn't a new thing for the young man to get off-handed comments about his habit, therefore his new acquaintance's obvious aversion to it didn't bother him much. Ever since about sixteen he'd been smoking occasionally, and it wasn't a chain smoking addiction, he could go with a cigarette a day or even less if necessary, but it was his stress reliever. The fact that he had an addictive personality didn't help much. In the beginning it'd been something he'd done to calm down, and then he'd enjoyed it. Now it was more like a daily habit, something he had to do to function when he was anxious or uncomfortable, and something that just left his clothes smelling like nicotine and cigarette smoke, which he wasn't fond of. The smell bothered him, in all honesty, but he wasn't able to just completely drop his little addiction. As much as he'd probably like to. So for the time being he just shrugged off the comments and suggestions of quitting because it was just going to kill him. Everyone had to die someday, so what did it matter that he was bringing his own demise on himself, extremely and ridiculously slowly. He was more likely to die from a car accident or something along those lines than lung cancer, at this rate. What amused him the most about the comments he received was how everyone seemed to be so self righteous about the whole matter, as if when presented with an addiction, they'd just up and say no without any trouble. Maybe he was just over-thinking people's reactions, but it still annoyed him. This young woman seemed like yet another one who thought she was perfect in that aspect, and probably in all the rest, but at least she seemed to care. Somewhat. As much as she protested.

In fact he wasn't sure if she seemed that bad at all, beyond the stuck-up and conceited sort of attitude she exuded, she was a quick witted little thing. And although she spoke as if she had no interest in his presence, she seemed to be alright with him around. Aiden could be a bit judgmental upon first meeting people, that was no secret, especially when it came to women, but she'd managed so far not to annoy the hell out of him, or turn into one of those dumb-blonds that acted stupid around him simply because he was a guy. That earned her a few brownie points in his mental notepad, something that he was unaware she was doing as well. It was a habit for him, to size people up quickly, but it didn't have too many terrible repercussions since he didn't trust anyone anyways, and wouldn't have to explain his behavior. The blank face he'd kept in tact the majority of their conversation split for a moment, becoming a faint smile that was echoed by an amused laugh, one that had the same effect as rolling his eyes. "Who cares who you see? Most people don't give a damn what you're wearing," he arched an eyebrow at the little fashionista. "I'm sure you'd look just as alright in sweats. What is it with you women?" His question wasn't sarcastic or arrogant, it was more of one of those questions to clarify a point, rhetorical, if you will. The slight, one-side-of-his-mouth-turned-up grin should be enough to denote that it wasn't a bitchy remark. He could be sarcastic, but he wasn't a complete asshole.

The remark about getting a moment alone, coupled with her own roll of the eyes, kept his slightly amused smirk in place, a single eyebrow still raised ever so slightly. "Well I'm pretty sure you ruined my moment alone, so I wouldn't go pointing fingers," it seemed interesting how quickly the conversation had gone from a couple quick and bitchy remarks from the both of them to the opportunity of comfortable banter back and forth. It was when conversation became like a volley, one took a shot and waited for the other to swing back, that Aiden seemed to fall into a more comfortable state. It reminded him of the good days. "Well come under the awning here if it's ruining your hair, I'm not going to kill you or anything," with the flat of his palm, he tapped a few inches to his right on the wall he was leaning against, to back up his words. "I'm Aiden by the way," he figured it might be a good time to share his name, just for the record's sake.

- -

( so this post is for delilah! it's somewhere around 850 words and celt thinks it's quality is pretty decent. it was given muse by nothing whatsoever she also says sorry the format keeps changing D: i'm indescisive )