bijou » brian may [queen]

7

"Fancy meeting you out here."

Lillian held back a sigh. In all honesty, she did like Roger a good amount. He was a great laugh to be around, and his attempts to charm her were all harmless and had pretty much zero effect on her. However, at that moment, with the feeling of a few hundred tonnes weighing down her shoulders, she had hoped she wouldn't have to be bothered to be polite. Now that Roger had walked up to her, she had no other options but to entertain him.

Taking another long drag of her cigarette in hopes of delaying her response, she inhaled all the heavy nicotine, puffing out the smoke slowly. Damn it; she really needed to buy better quality smokes, if she didn't want to choke half to death after only three drags. Leaning back against the wall of the main house, she had to squint a little to look at him past the sunshine.

"I did say I liked smoking from time to time, didn't I?" Lillian's words came out a little sharper than usual, and for a moment she felt a bit guilty, and almost apologized for it. But seeing how Roger's grin was unfaltering, she realized that he probably didn't care much. He seemed like the type to have a lot of tolerance, despite how short of a fuse he often had when it came to bickering. So she didn't apologize, and instead offered him her pack of cigarettes as a peace offering.

He shook his head, wrinkling his nose a little as he pulled out his packet. "No thanks. Got my own right here." Halfway through, he began patting his pockets, frowning. "Ah, shit. Looks like I'll be borrowing something after all. A lighter, please?"

"Yeah, sure." Pursing her lips around the end of her cigarette to stop it from falling to the ground, Lillian pulled her fancy golden lighter from her pockets. It looked like a woman curled around herself, and had cost her quite a bit. It was the one thing she was proud of splurging a little on, and Roger's wiggling eyebrows meant that he rather fancied it. She fondly clicked her tongue at him, waiting till he'd stuck his fag between his lips and had lit it up, then returning to finishing up her own.

"You know," Roger said, pausing to puff out some smoke. "You said that you only smoked when you were about to go crazy." His words were a little careful, but his blue eyes were kind and open, as though offering her a gentle nudge. "Penny for your thoughts, love?"

Though she hesitated for a few moments, Lillian knew that she'd ultimately give in and tell him what was on her mind. After all, she wasn't about to reject this sweet gesture of his—especially not when she was this streased. It really wasn't anything worth keeping a secret, either, so she sighed, lit up another cigarette (oh, if her parents could've seen her, they would've thrown a fit), and began to talk.

"I got a notice from the bank a few days ago. See, I took out a loan back in my first year in my major, cause I was pretty much supporting myself all alone, and couldn't do it without any funds, of course." Exhaling the heavy smoke out, she held her ciggie between her fingertips, her other hand reaching up to wearily rub at her temples. Merely thinking of it made her feel the onset of a nasty headache.

"Aha." Roger nodded along, a perfectly understanding look on his face. From what they'd said in front of her before, Lillian could tell that they were pretty familiar with financial issues—though it was a little baffling, seeing how obviously brilliant they were. If she had to venture a guess, their "cunt" of an ex-manager would be to blame. "When we're tight on cash, we get all tense with each other too, so I get that."

She didn't want to confess that a certain bandmate of his was also partially to blame for her inability to relax, but this time in a butterflies-have-infested-my-tummy way. Last night had been a long night; trying to fall asleep when she wasn't drunk enough to forget the whole syrupy-sweet, touchy interaction with Brian after the game had proved to be near impossible.