"you expecting a party?" — @2scompany, as elijah reynolds.
she's quite a view. cigarette burning, ash fluttering, the length of dark hair settling at her hips— belt buckle glinting in the moonlight. her gaze ate up by the abyss of the stars. currently, she's got smoke stuck between her teeth but only a whisper of an exhale sends it sailing. bursting bubbles and blazing hellfire all with the branded marlboro red to count. the pack still sticks out from her pocket. her lighter flips around in her palm.
dive bars and pool halls have seen her face a million times. enough to make an impression, enough to lose her in the crowd. tonight, as the interior shakes and the laughter booms, mari steps aside to watch a passing car rattle down the road like a jet-engine on speed. or, at least, she thinks it looks something like that, but she's a few drinks deep and nobody ever said she was reliable. she seems to think she's not.
a glossy gaze travels to the newcomer aside her, lighter continuing to shift between fingers and palm like modern day magic— as if she could conjure up flame just with a flick of her fingertips. a party. the thought is something of a laugh, these days. the only she had was one of a sibling, and he's long past any days with her. hopefully. ideally. even if it leaves her lonesome, in the end.
"maybe." her response leaves something to be desired, something sin-cast and soulful in the bottom of her tone. she pockets the lighter, drags from the cigarette, and watches smoke spin out towards the awning ... then disappear, like everything does. another glance over to the stranger. "depends what you'd consider a party."
