Re: Rooftop.
"Wren doesn't want that," the words rode a small smile that lacked the happiness such a curve of lips should really hold. "I know what she thinks of me.. what everyone thinks of me." The other woman, the liar, the harlot. So far from the truth, but the Brielle then had almost found it more comfortable to take the blame than to explain the truth or herself. Trying to defend herself from her husband had always ended in worse things, and like Pavlov's dog, she knew how to wilt better than how to strand strong.
"I'd tell you, Jack, but I know why you're askin'.." That skinned sugarcane Creole came out to play then, and again her smile wasn't quite happy. She recalled her conversation with Jack in the parking lot, when he'd mentioned his intention to kill Alexander. "I wouldn't see you do that to yourself.. you're a good man. You've saved me more than once... or do you just save everyone?" Now that smile baited something a little more real, those veneers playing peekaboo with a slight pinch of her tongue in between.
"Pensez-vous que je suis belle?" Then, a quick addendum in English, because she was too comfortable for a moment to remember he wouldn't understand. "You think I'm beautiful?" When she tilted her head just so, the deep cut of her gown's front exposed the subtle glimpse of an old scar. Something from a punctured lung years ago. It was barely discernible, but scars knew scars and maybe he'd recognize its antique stitches for what they were.
"Scandalously?" Was there a flicker of hurt there in her greenish eyes? Maybe just a glimmer of amused confusion before her fingers slid down from where they'd blocked his good eye. Down his cheek, a lone index finger mapping his jaw while her eyes dropped to watch, to memorize. She was closer then, all vanilla bath salts and musk, and Brielle set aside that barely touched champagne flute on the roof's ledge. "Will you make me ask?" She didn't clarify, but maybe she thought she didn't have to. Considering her proximity and the northbound flight of those swamp moss eyes, such a momentary pause on his mouth.