A pyromantic wife and a spacial jumping husband face the dawn of a dead tomorrow; but what did it matter so long as they were hand in bloody hand?
As Lena Flores attempted to save the world, it all began to collapse in on them and they began to won...
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At some point during the evening, Lena watched Lila quietly leave with Diego at her side and twitched a tiny smile into her glass.
Despite her vow to drink enough for herself and Lila combined, the fancy champagne was all the Sparrows had and soon Lena had become rather sick of it. It was too sweet, and she was used to tequila, which she sorely missed as the party began to die down. The music volume had decreased to background noise as the others left, the remaining being Ben, Fei, Luther and Sloane dotted on the couches chatting.
Five eventually nudged her and met her eyes.
She sat low on the couch, a glass held against her chest, tiredly watching the chandelier crystals glitter with light as fatigue began to take a steady hold.
But at his look, she wordlessly nodded and let him pull her to a stand, leaving her half empty glass on the coffee table as they left.
They had no real place in mind and ended up wandering the halls, heading towards the stairs to the roof.
Once the cool air hit her skin, she felt a touch more awake, and exhaled slowly as the quiet of the night filled the space around them. Without the pounding of the music, her ears rang as the makings of a headache formed at her temples, but the cool air soothed her too warm skin.
Five and her ended up staring up at the stars and the few glowing lights across the dark city, taking in the quiet together in the silence of each others company.
They each ended up sat with their backs to the low wall surrounding the roof, the corner between them so that she could rest her legs over his lap, their shoulders resting against eachother. Fairy lights illuminated the area above them and although there was seating to their right, the two elected to ignore it, more used to not having the luxury of comfort.
Lena rested her head against his shoulder as she linked their hands in her lap, enjoying the quiet while it lasted.
He glanced down at her as her eyelids began to drop every few seconds. His voice was surprisingly gentle when he broke the silence.
"If you fall asleep on me, I'm going to have to carry you all the way back to the Hotel." He muttered.
"You can blink us back." She murmured tiredly back.
"I'm probably over the drinking limit to do that without dropping us in someone else's room, you know." He lifted his shoudler a little to nudge her.
Her eyes fell closed as she smiled in amusement. "I have faith in you."
"How much champagne did you have?"
Her eyebrows furrowed a little. "Not enough. I really wish they had something stronger."
"In the original timeline dad used to collect expensive bottles of whiskey. I guess even tastes change with the times."
She hummed in acknowledgement. "I would have preferred whiskey." Then, as if a sudden thought hit her, she lifted her head to look at him, eyebrows furrowed. "Why is champagne meant to be so special? It tastes like shit."
