"Well, hell, if you're building the roof ramp go for broke and provide the means to get liquored up, too. Liquid courage is the mental lubricant of adventurous injuries." Allegra raised her beer in toast, then set it on the floor. Stuff really wasn't worth the effort at the moment.
Not girlfriend, not boyfriend--geez, this'd a hell lot easier if Mischa would talk to her. But, no, princess had to stew in her temper and turn a deaf ear on Allegra's curiosity. (Which was just plain cheating in Mischa's case.) She'd have asked Elpis' analysis on the boy's intentions, but the kid holed up the moment Allegra came within view of the store. A weird reaction, since she'd been fine enough when living in Amsterdam.
Women. Go figure.
Maybe Cam wasn't into blonds. Or Brits. Everyone pegged he and Mischa as friendly, but a good conversation without attraction was a cold kitchen.
If Allegra had been a different sort of girl--and about ten years younger--she'd have ran tried the standard "do you like like her?" line of interrogation. If she'd been another sort of girl she'd have tried the more mature "listen, can I ask something about you and my sister?". If she'd been more patient she'd have found the Dave guy and grilled him. But Allegra was Allegra and so she decided the more direct approach in determining Cam's physical interest towards British blonds.
She kissed him.
You had to be good to spring a kiss someone, especially if it was a kiss worth mentioning. Going into the endeavor solo, without the other's party's upfront cooperation, could make things messy--and clumsy. Teeth could click. Noses could bang. Someone's hand could slip into someone's...unhandy place. The point was you had to be good.
Then again, when it came to getting into trouble Allegra was Da-fucking-Vinci.
Quick as light, she had one arm braced on the couch arm, one hand on the boy's shoulder. Mouth on mouth, tongue a cat-quick dart along the lips' seam. Not a hard kiss per se, but not lackadaisy schoolgirl brush-by either. This close, her hair touched his cheek; her thumb edged a collarbone.
"I'm guessing," Allegra said in a voice that was neither smug nor teasing, but definitely not innocent, "that a disinclination in blonds is not the issue."