His Favorite Slinky Black Dress

His Favorite Slinky Black Dress
Date of Scene:	17 March 2013
Location:	Palumpolum
Synopsis:	Max interrupts paperwork time and drags Jihl out.
Cast of Characters:	Maximilien, Jihl Nabaat

---

Jihl Nabaat has posed:
Jihl has very, very good sources.

As such, within twenty-four hours, she's already well aware of most of what happened down in the darkness in the World Heart of Manhatten, and as such, she's spending one fine Sunday night with the lights low and a LOT of paperwork.

No kidding.

This may be driven due to Jihl's natural curiosity, not to mention she can now wander Manhatten freely, getting to know the TDA in their home world... for Reasons. A lot of Reasons.

She is also eating bad takeout.

Maximilien has posed:
"You do not get out enough," Max observes as he slides his arms around Jihl's neck from behind. He was, as ever, silent until he wanted to be heard, invisible until he wanted to be seen. It was probaby his second greatest talent - right next to his sheer suicidal daring. "I should take you dancing. You would look even more magnificent draped on my arm, dressed in fine French fashion baring enough to make them wildly jealous and concealing enough to make them wildly curous."

His hands move down her sides, but he doesn't go for her zipper or her buttons - he snatches the takeout, a disapproving frown crossing his face. "/And/," he adds, that disapproval making itself known on his lips, "I really must not let you eat such things. Must I start making full-course meals to store in your freezer, that you do not find yourself with no recourse but /this/?"

Jihl Nabaat has posed:
He snatches her takeout container of the closest thing Eden has to Chinese, and Jihl makes a protesting noise. The leader of PSICOM immediately goes to grab the container back even as Max starts scolding her about her taste in food.

She tilts her head up towards his, a frown crossing her pale lips. "Give it back! I think it tastes good!"

He then comments on her not getting out enough, and she snorts. "I get out enough fine."

Maximilien has posed:
The container is deftly tossed; it slides along a far counter, skidding to a halt still-upright. Max leans down, pressing his lips against hers, his now-free fingers brushing her chin back and into the kiss. "No you don't," Max replies calmly. "I can still taste it on your lips, and I can tell just by the remnants that this is not food - this is fuel, nothing more."

"I do not think you even taste it, ma chere. What is it you are working so heavily on, that you cannot be bothered to call me for a real meal?"

"Is it something so important you cannot be drawn away even for a few hours? Because that was not a suggestion, earlier; I intend to take you dancing."

Jihl Nabaat has posed:
Jihl's lips purse as Max continues to be absolutely correct about everything. EVERYTHING!

"I didn't want to disturb you. Especially with Manhatten restored, your friends are probably all busy, so I figured it'd be easiest to just grab some fuel." She sniffs, not entirely seeing the difference between 'fuel' and 'food'.

Then Max reveals the plans, and Jihl's eyebrows snap together. "I don't dance, Max."

Maximilien has posed:
Max is good at that. He is, in fact, excellent at reading people - especially people he spends a lot of time thinking about, considering, and contemplating. He knows Jihl quite well.

"You would not have been disturbing me. Just because those people are busy does not mean I have anything important to do." That was also true; he kept a healthy distance between him and the TDA, most of the time. Getting involved with those people was bad for them. He didn't really like inconveniencing them, or putting them in any danger they didn't need to be in; despite some colossal leaps in dealing with his (reasonable) trust issues, he was still unwilling to be too open and public with his life.

"You'll dance with me," he counters, taking her hand in his. "You need to get out of your office anyhow. Come out with me. Put on that dress I find so appealing, and let's go dancing. I still need to make up that night to you."

Jihl Nabaat has posed:
Jihl tilts her head at Max, not aggressively, just mostly out of curiosity. "Hmph. I am no weak woman who needs a man to cook for her, anyways. Plus, is take out so wrong if it's used rarely as a nutritional source?" She suspects the answer she's going to get is still 'yes'.

She looks down at their hands, then back up, and very carefully starts restacking the paperwork spread around her in neat piles on the table in front of her. About three minutes later, she stands, gives MAx a look, then meanders silently down the hallway into her bedroom.

"I feel as if I try to stay, you'll drag me out."

Maximilien has posed:
"Yes, and yes again," Max replies to both the question and the sentiment, a smile on his face as he watches her move towards the hallway. She was beautiful, and she knew it, and he knew it, too; for a moment, he considered following her, and ending any desire to go out that he had then and there. But...no. No, that was too easy. That wasn't a relationship, that was a tryst, and that wouldn't help ease his guilt. No, going out and being social and doing things was something people in relationships did. So he was going to do that.

"Even if you say no, I will eventually get you to come with me, somehow. I am relentless, after all."

Jihl Nabaat has posed:
Jihl -knew- she's damn beautiful. She uses it in her own way, but her 'own way' tends to be terribly psychopathic or something more closer to masochistic, but she's not unwilling to use her body to get her own way. Just ...

not with Max.

She disappears into her room for about five minutes, eventually slinking back out in that all-too-becoming-familiar black dress. She gives him a almost flat look, smoothing down the front of it carefully.

"Well?" She demands.

Maximilien has posed:
A woman who knows she's beautiful is a dangerous thing. Cirra'd proved it time and again; Jihl had yet to prove it, but Max already knew how dangerous she was and could be. He was playing with fire in both hands, and that was fine. That was how he liked it. The reward was as great as the risk.

Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe the risk was always greater than the reward...or always *better* than the reward. The thrill of loving a woman who could kill him almost effortlessly, the razor's-edge danger of a plan gone awry during a job, the gamble that lay in those legs, the threat that hid in *every* mission...was the love, was the payoff, ever really as good for him as the adrenaline?

Maybe. He wasn't sure yet.

That black dress certainly made a very persuasive argument against his way of thinking. He moves over to her, sliding his hands around her waist appreciatively.

"You will be the object of every man's desire, tonight, and I the object of every man's hatred," Max observes, tugging her up against him for a kiss.

"I think I even hate myself a bit, that I have such a woman on my arm for the evening."

Jihl Nabaat has posed:
Jihl doesn't deliberately show her own beautiful dangerous-ness. Not that dangerous-ness is a word, but it's not like it really matters. He pulls her against him, and she gives him a long and thoughtful look.

"I'm always that woman." She replies, coolly, giving him her standard smug look. He then comments about hating himself, and she gives a soft snort, most un-Jihl like.

"You're strange."

Maximilien has posed:
"So you are," Max replies quietly. She was, too; she was aloof and beautiful, a pair of factors that, as Max knew well, made her very desireable. He considers, for a moment, hooking his arm around her and escorting her out and onto the street like a normal person...but then she comments on how strange he was. His lips quirk upwards into a grin.

"Am I?" Max replies; his free hand goes to her leg, to scoop her up into his arms in a bridal carry even as his other arm shifts from her hip to her back. The float spell settles around them both, his favored and most-practiced spell...

And then he opens the window. "I suppose I am, ma chere! Shall we go in style, then~?"

Yeah, he just hops off the ledge with her in his arms.

Elevators are too slow.

Jihl Nabaat has posed:
Max asks her a very important question. Jihl tilts her head at him, realizing what he's going to do a moment too late - by the time she starts protesting at all, he's already opened the window.

"Max, you --" She does cling to him. She is not used to float magic.

She is, of course, deeply embarassed at this. She smacks him a good one, glowering. "You ass!"

Maximilien has posed:
She slaps him, and he laughs, a playful, cheerful laugh as they descend the skyscraper slowly.

The view, at least, is breathtaking. Max is perfectly in control of the fall - then again, is that even a little surprising, given that 'perfectly in control' is practically the man's primary characteristic? - and the whole of the city is laid out around them as they drop, ever so slowly, towards the ground. His cape billows around them, a black-and-gold safety cloud, itself enchanted with float spells woven in like a perfect magical parachute. They were in no danger, and he knew it. He might love risking his own life, might love the adrenaline he got from the danger, but he would never risk the life of someone important to him.

And Jihl absolutely was someone important to him.

"...are you mine?" Max asks after a few minutes of falling, while the whole city is laid out before them; it's certainly a romantic notion, and a romantic place to ask such a question, but he expected he knew the answer.

Jihl Nabaat has posed:
Jihl listens to him laugh. She listens to that playful, cheerful noise, a noise which is so extremely rare coming from the man she knows. She gives him a thoughtful look, resting her head against their chest as they continue falling.

There is a almost rare silence from her, before she finally manages to find a reply.

"In a ... uniquely rare way, yes."

Maximilien has posed:
There was something to be said for that. They float downwards in silence after her reply, Max's face unreadable as they drift past one of the roads that crisscross the sky. Briefly, he wondered what the people of Cocoon must think, to see such a public woman with him. Was she, he wondered silently, ashamed of him? Was she worried about what might happen if she was caught with him? But no, that was impossible, or she wouldn't even agree to something as simple as a date.

They get closer to the street, and suddenly, he pulls her up for a deep kiss. Then another. Then another.

They touch down, gently, and he releases her, offering her his hand like a proper gentleman, a smile on his face. "The night awaits us, ma tresor. Let us make it worthy of you."

Jihl Nabaat has posed:
Many of the PSICOM forces look up. They are tracking them carefully, Max probably has wards or something that will ping him, and the fact that he's getting away with their leader and one of the six most bad-ass women in their world is well --

Always interesting.

She is unable to speak for several minutes as he occupies her... mouth. What, what did you think was going to be said. She does not let that phase her, however - Jihl takes the proffered hand, even as she inquires, "Ma tresor?"

Oh, dear. Frenchisms.

Maximilien has posed:
Max likes making fun of PSICOM. He enjoyed it. Thoroughly. He'd figured out how to make their detection systems light up and spell HELLO and HI and BONJOUR with the right mix of magics entirely harmlessly, so he absolutely knew when they were tracking him (right now it was saying HELLO, as usual); Jihl probably knew better than he did, really. He had a great deal of respect for Jihl, but PSICOM were untrained rookies, and untrained rookies were not even close to enough to stop him from doing pretty much whatever he wanted in Cocoon.

They were really lucky he was dating their boss and an honorable man.

Max spins her back into his arms for a moment, sliding his arm under hers and taking her hand like a gentleman. He smiles. "My treasure," He replies cheerfully as they start walking.

"Let us see what we can find in the way of entertainment this evening, non? I do not know your city very well, however, so perhaps you ought to lead."

Jihl Nabaat has posed:
"Max, dear, would you please stop trolling my agents?" Jihl asks.

She is arching her eyebrow and giving him her best 'bad Max, bad' sort of look, even as he gently tugs her along into a walk. How does she know that he is doing so? She always her radio open, unless she's asleep, or deep in the midst of...

Well, Max.

Heh, heh.

She gives him a blank look as he suggests she leads him to the entertainment of the evening. "Uh..."

Maximilien has posed:
"Is that a real request, or are you simply going through the motions for the sake of appearance?" Max teases as he slides his free arm around her waist. His smile widens a bit. "If it is a real request, I will of course abide by it, but..."

He lets the thought trail as they start walking.

"How do you manage to live here and know nothing about where entertainment might be found?" Max asks after a moment, only *mildly* incredulous. He had suspected for some time that the only entertainment Jihl ever REALLY got was when he came over for his visits. "How do you manage to spend all of your time working so hard and not lose your mind? Clearly I must make up for lost time for you; perhaps I should encourage you to take a week off with me, and let your soldiers try and figure out what they are doing for themselves."

"It *might* benefit both you and they, at this point."

Jihl Nabaat has posed:
"A little bit of both." Jihl says, shrugging.

He then promptly goes into a minature rant at his mildly incredulous reaction to Jihl's admission that she knows nothing about 'entertainment'. She just stares at him for awhile, stopping dead in the middle of the street as her brain meanders down the pathway of 'going for a week off with Max.'

"Um." She responds non-commitally. "I don't know..."

Maximilien has posed:
"You don't know if you want to, or you don't know if it would do you both some good?" Max pauses in the street, too, turning to face her, oblivious to people stopping and staring. Max got stared at *all the time*; he wore a cape in public, for God's sakes. If he didn't enjoy dressing like a street magician, he wouldn't. It isn't like he doesn't occasionally put on *much* less flamboyant clothes and go out on the street, after all.

"I could just...steal you away, after all."

He grins, then reaches out and grabs a random stranger, tugging the person over to him. "Excusez-moi, mes ami; where would you say is a good place for a couple to go and find some entertainment in your beautiful city?"

Jihl Nabaat has posed:
Max yoinks a young looking man, who looks absolutely terrified to see Jihl within five feet of him. Jihl makes a soft noise, before she turns around in his grip, looking away from the young man, who finally manages to stammer out an answer when Jihl's green eyes aren't completely, utterly focused on him.

The answer he gives Max is jumbled, but eventually he'll figure out that there's a very good bar with food adn drink and a lot of dance that they won't be out of place in. It is deep within Palumpolum, places Jihl rarely sees, because she leaves such areas to her ...

... ineffective soldiers, shall we say.

She then looks at Max. "You are not allowed to steal me away from my job and the Primarch for a week." She says, firmly.

Maximilien has posed:
Max is very patient with the young man. He knows well how terrified some of these people are with Jihl; it was a thing that he understood well. She had power. People feared power. She was a powerful woman, politically and otherwise, and that meant she could do pretty much whatever she wanted to these poor people.

So Max is very calm, very polite, very soothing; he talks to the man like an equal, a smile on his face the whole time, and when he offers places to go, Max thanks him politely and deposits a bit of gil in the man's pocket before turning back to Jihl.

"I don't know what they're so afraid of," he teases, "You look absolutely ravishing, after all."

They start walking, and Max waves his hand. "I am not allowed to *steal* anything; that is, after all, the point of stealing. If it is permitted, it is simply being offered, non?"

"You need a week off. I don't think you've taken even a day off that I have not personally forced upon you, or that your handsome friend hasn't forced upon you." Max knew - or at least was fairly certain - that Yaag wasn't a threat, and he rather liked the other man from what little interaction they'd had (Max tended to show up in the night, after all). Straightforward people were easy to mess with.

"And I think that your Primarch will survive for a week without you. Your friend seems perfectly competent, and it would give your soldiers a good chance to operate without you and perhaps get some practical experience, without needing to be told what to do every waking hour of the day." He moves to the other side of her, switching which hand is around her waist.

"Your health is more important to me than your Primarch's," he adds, but quietly enough that only she can hear, as they reach the dance club the young man pointed them at.

Jihl Nabaat has posed:
The man practically books it out of the area - even though Max's general attitude, being calm, polite, and soothing, he's still utterly terrified that PSICOM or even Jihl herself is going to come hunt him down like a little ant caught between a set of very, very large anteaters.

Luckily for all involved, she is not going to do so.

Then Max brings up Yaag, and Jihl jerks with surprise when he refers to him as a 'handsome friend'. Her green eyes wide, she turns her face up to his - while there is less of a height difference than normally, it's still there.

She lets out a hiss of a breath. "Yaag is not my friend." She mutters. "He came in second to me in everything, and has never challenge me. He is a trustworthy associate who I depend on to help me keep the Primarch safe."

Parts of that may be a lie - Jihl may not consider him a friend, but in a way, he is. The statement about him coming in second was said with such sheer arrogance and ego from Jihl that it has to be true.

"I cannot." She says, then jerks again at his practical heresy with his last statement. "Max-!"

Maximilien has posed:
Of course she's not going to. What did he do? (Max doesn't yet realize, of course, that you need to do NOTHING to get pegged by PSICOM, and once he does, things may become...more strained.) Max grins as Jihl tells him how Yaag isn't her friend, and holds up his hand. "So you depend on him to help you keep the primarch safe, but you do not think he and your army of soldiers can do so while you spend a week on your own health? Ma chere, I think that you are far too careless about your own value. What would happen if you drove yourself mad with stress, or became exhausted to the point of being unable to work? Relaxing is part of maintaining yourself, after all. If such a situation occured, would not your Primarch be in even more danger while you recover?"

"Taking a vacation with me," Max observes handily as he opens the door for her, "Would in fact be in your Primarch's best interests. Your maintenance and well-being are important to your ability to keep him safe."

He shrugs as she gives him that look. "You know it is true. I am not from here, after all. The only person who means anything here to me is you, and you mean a..." He pauses.

"...you mean a very great deal to me."

That was a lot harder than it needed to be.

Max slips his hand back around her waist as they enter the club, the music immediately filling his ears. It wasn't that he was worried about someone stealing her away (please, if any of the men in this city were that daring, she would be dating them); he just liked to be close to her.

"Shall we?"

Jihl Nabaat has posed:
Jihl and Max quietly move into the building, and Jihl immediately looks very uncomfortable. She finally murmurs a series of soft replies, most of them involving this important tidbit of history and reality that Max does not precisely know or understand:

"For the past twenty years, I have dedicated my heart and soul to protecting the man that sits on that throne. I am much older than you realize, Maximilien-my-thief; the Primarch has been much of my heart and most of my soul, and for the first time in ..."

"Ever."

"Someone else is occupying it."

The music fills her ears, but it is not a beat that Jihl Nabaat understands, so even as he calmly pulls her into his grip, she does not stop looking slightly worried. Panicked, even; for this is the most new and uncomfortable thing Jihl Nabaat has done in twenty years.

Maximilien has posed:
Max is quiet as they dance; he doesn't reply to her murmur, and for a bit, it might seem like he hadn't heard it. He's quite a skilled dancer, but then, Jihl already knew that; she'd seen him dance at the festival. He knew how to move. Agility was definitely his strongest feature, especially given his body type. He could dance with the best of them.

So at least she's got a comfortable expert on this strange, terrifying new thing she's involved in. His hands are gentle, and his motions are as well, making sure that she's comfortable as he settles into the routine. He's a good guide.

Max leans down and murmurs into her ear gently, a wry smile on his face.

Jihl Nabaat has posed:
Jihl lets him lead her, for the very first time in a very long time. She is letting herself be led. The woman is definitely accruing glances - by the end of the first minute, rumors are already abound that that is the infamous Jihl Nabaat...

There is also a more sinsiter undertone, one that Max can easily pick up. Whispers of, 'what is she going to do with him?' Murmurs of wondering where he's going to end up - dead, or bruised and forgotten?

Jihl knows it, too. He murmurs something, and she stops, shocked. "Max-!"

Murmurs increase.

Maximilien has posed:
Max hears the rumors. He hears the words circulating, and he files them away for later inquiry. But right now, they're hardly important to him. Other people float through the breeze, helpless; Max lived in a world they could not even possibly imagine. He did what he wanted to do, what he dared to do; he did anything he dared to do. His life was a fantasy many of them had played out time and time again, imagining themselves as handsome princes or heroic, dashing figures, fearless in the face of all those things people found so everyday terrifying. Max approached beautiful women without a problem. Max leapt off rooftops and fell hundreds of feet.

If they knew how much of that stemmed from his own problems, they might assuredly wish otherwise.

Max's hands go around her waist, and he tugs her close to him, a grin spreading across his face. "Do not stop, ma chere. Certainly not for the empty words of cowards."

Max *also* calls out large groups of people for being weak.

He leans down, and pulls her into another, very deep, kiss, a smile in his eyes. Let them see what to make of *that*.

Jihl Nabaat has posed:
"Max..."

It is a odd thing to say, to keep repeating his name, but when his hands are wrapped around her waist, and he's got her physically close, and he probably just annoyed a significant part of the people Jihl has sworn to protect, well--

You can't really concentrate on that when she gets pulled into a kiss.

There are some shocked gasps, and very jealous women in the audience. There are also some very privately jealous men ... although they number only one or two, because most of them /are/ cowards--

No one else would dare lay their hands on Jihl like that.

Maximilien has posed:
And that alone was why he could.

The whispers stop, and Max releases her from the kiss, spinning her back into a very close dance. He wasn't playing a game with her, he wasn't teasing her, now; he was playing a game with the audience, toying with their emotions, their fear, their private self-loathing. It was a dark place to be, to get such enjoyment out of their self-tortured miseries, their desire to do what he made so easy. They were little, predictable puppets. He pulled their strings, with her help.

"I love it when you say my name," Max purrs, spinning her again. "Although if you keep repeating it so, the people may begin to wonder if you have forgotten how to say anything else. Perhaps they will wonder if my kiss is so strong, it has addled your mind."

"Some of them will fantasize about being you. A few of the daring men, and some of the very daring women, will fantasize about being me." His hands slide to her hips as they sway on the dance floor. "All of them will wonder who I am, how I can be so careless with a woman they so fear."

He laughs merrily.

Jihl Nabaat has posed:
In an almost hilarious way, Max is taking enjoyment in their fear, their private self-loathing. Jihl is on the other side of the spectrem, gaining enjoyment from watching Max toying and making them miserable. They are a strange couple, these two.

Max purrs at her, and she glares at him, her green eyes glinting as he bursts into laughter at himself and his actions. The Jihl is amused, and (mostly) pleased.

"You are an arrogant, self-aware, preening, sort of an asshole, thief, my dear." She drawls in a soft voice, which somehow carries - Jihl doesn't really want to be quiet, and she is not going to be so deliberately. "You haven't addled me like that!"

Yet, her brain whispers softly, causing her to flush a slight pink. She makes a soft hmph, and then abruptly twirls around to face away from him, gazing into the audience with a smirk.

Maximilien has posed:
"I object only to a few of those, ma chere," Max replies cheerfully as she turns away from him. His hands slide around her waist, settling on her stomach as she looks into the crowd.

"Of course I have not. I did not even think I had."

He doesn't say anything more, just swaying there, gently, letting her take her own time before they resume dancing. She's alright, he decides, at least as far as dancing goes. He's certainly danced with clumsier, with less competent.

"It is not so bad, to take a night off, now is it?"

Jihl Nabaat has posed:
"Which ones?" Jihl asks.

She cannot see her baring her teeth in a 'say something, I dare you'. Sort of sweet smile to the Palumpolum citizens in the crowd. This causes mutters amongst the braver ones, but Jihl has good hearing and her green eyes zero in on them with a quick motion.

Some people are getting a PSICOM... visit. Tonight.

Maximilien has posed:
Max cannot, in fact, see anything of Jihl's front. He's much taller than she is; he can't just tilt his eyes down and see her smiling, her head is sort of in the way. He does tighten his arms around her stomach a little as people start mumbling.

Max didn't know what PSICOM did. He didn't really care. He didn't see it his business to pry.

He might care if he knew, though. If he knew what would happen to those muttering, brave individuals. In fact, he probably will, if he ever finds out.

For now, though, he just thinks it's all kind of funny.

Jihl Nabaat has posed:
Jihl's front is impressive enough that Max should know what it looks like. In many, many ways. She eventually twirls back around in his grip, giving him a tight smile, almost wary, before she leans against a little... more than is necessary.

And more than she might normally do.

"You're amused."

Maximilien has posed:
He does.

"A bit," Max replies after a moment, tensing as she leans against him. The thief is too wary to really enjoy it for the moment. He's not sure what she's playing at just yet; she's been difficult for Max to read since they met. It's one of the reasons he's remained so fascinated with her; like a cat playing with a ball of yarn, Max appreciates women (and people in general) who aren't see-through, mundane, simple to dissect with a few glances and words.

That isn't to say he toys with women, but rather than he's fascinated by things he can't just understand instantly, being as they are vanishingly rare.

"People are so very...simple, ma chere. Base. They care for little but themselves, scurrying like insects to satisfy their needs. I cannot help but be entertained by those who lack the will to make their own destinies."

Jihl Nabaat has posed:
"But all I want is to satisfy my own needs." Jihl murmurs softly. Yes, she adores the Primarch, but she wouldn't be serving him half as much as she was if he wasn't doing things for her - like letting her lead PSICOM for example.

This brings up a funny image when you think of Jihl's skills... she'd probably kill him herself if he was ineffective.

"Yet I understand where you're coming from."

Maximilien has posed:
"You have the will to grab what you can take, to climb the ladder of success. You are not satisfied with table scraps, ma chere; ambition burns in your heart, and that is all the difference." Max leans down for a kiss that lingers only briefly - he is, after all, much much taller than she is - and then straightens.

"You are also extremely difficult to read, and that makes you...extremely interesting."

Jihl Nabaat has posed:
There is a odd look Max gets from Jihl after the kiss while she's still comprehending the words about ambition in her heart. Is it because of her heart - or lack of it - that truly drives her will to grab and climb?

Jihl clears her throat.

"Years of practice, for that."

Maximilien has posed:
"Oui, ma chere; I can tell. Simple talent would not be enough to protect you from my gaze. Only practice, refinement." Max hooks his arms back around her waist as she clears her throat, ensuring that she can't step away from him, and then moves her back towards the door. He liked to be near exits. Call it a habit.

"Though I must admit that my gaze wanders tonight. Perhaps I am simply...distracted," he teases.

Jihl Nabaat has posed:
Jihl arches her eyebrow as they slowly shimmy their way towards the door. She's good at moving backwards, although she does take sharp notice of his tendancy to be near exits. However - Jihl finally chuckles, throwing her head so her long silvery hair ripples down her frame.

She then looks up at him, her eyes blazing in amusement. "Hopefully I am the distraction."

Maximilien has posed:
"Oui, you are. You are very good at being distracting," Max replies quietly.

"Will you be coming with me for that vacation, by the by?" He adds after a long moment, swaying back and forth to the music against her. "Your city is lovely, but..."

"Well, I hope you will forgive me for saying so, but it is a bit too mechanical for my tastes. Mechanical, cold, lifeless. Glass. It is lacking in...something. Je ne sais quois, mais..."

He releases her hip for a moment to roll his hand thoughtfully.

"I find myself a bit uncomfortable."

That was only a little bit a lie. Yes, Max did in fact find the city of Palumpolum uncomfortable; the gleaming towers were unsettling, unpleasant. But that wasn't the city's fault. Not really. Nor was it Jihl's fault.

Jihl Nabaat has posed:
Jihl still doesn't know French, so him going 'je ne sais quois, mais', sends her for a curveball as she tries to figure out the vague meaning behind it. However, he admits being uncomfortable with her city, and Jihl stops to think about that, her eyes almost narrowing.

"I can understand that." She says, finally, thinking back to his cottage i nthe countryside.

"I ... really can, actually."

After a few more minutes, she bites her bottom lip. "I'll go."

Maximilien has posed:
Max's smile, to his own surprise, is wide and genuine.

Apparently it wasn't all pointless. Maybe going through the motions, maybe pushing himself through all the guilt and self-loathing, really was doing some good.

He just had to keep /her/ face out of his mind.

"I am glad."