Re: christmas lights log: mars & lear
Mars' lungs held onto the cold air like they didn't know better, and her breath looked like so many cotton balls of white when she stepped down from the heel of the sidewalk and she slid into the passenger seat of his vehicle, which she recognized. The cold probably wasn't good for her, it was on the hidden away and often shrugged off list of things like meat proteins, alcohol, and all of the other wonderful little anecdotes that made life worth living recklessly. Anything that made her heart race wasn't ideal really, even blushing must have been without recommendation; it wasn't like she really had the blood to spare.
The door sounded loud when she closed it beside her, despite the hypnotic thump of his music. Mars settled into the heat, appreciated it when she huddled the red fringe of riding wool up around her throat. The town seemed dead tonight, which was saying something as far as small towns went. Maybe it was just the cold that was keeping everybody indoors.
Knees together, Catholic-tight, and she folded her fingers into the hem of her fairytale cloak as the car's heat worked its magic and made the tops of her knees a little less mottled with every moment. Mars didn't really say anything, just tilted her cheek against the passenger seat and regarded him in the near-dark of his vehicle. The stereo and the dash's LED-whatever cast some pretty tint, but it was still dim as she watched him smoke in those first moments upon being in the car together while she thawed.
If this was a romantic comedy, Mars would have felt obligated to make a weak joke about how those things, the cigarettes, were bad for him. But this wasn't that kind of movie, and Mars actually figured that might have been the point.
"Share with me?" She tilted the cherubic lines of her face, eyebrows up with all asking directed toward the smoke on his lips. It wasn't good for her, but she didn't mind hurting herself.