[Catching Annette in embarrassing (to her, anyway) situations is par for the course, really—and Felix will never understand why she must be like this every single time, but! But. While he scowls down at her, flustered by this callout, she just... is how she is. He accepts—loves—the mystery that is Annette, even as the heat of the spotlights sends sweat trickling down the back of his neck.]
I didn't know what it was about, [he hisses back to her, like they are not on stage, like that idiot is not hassling them.] I said you'd be better alone, but you gave me that—look.
[So this is entirely your fault, Annette, please take responsibility. And also please take his hand as he straightens, because something, something, as he very much doubts that Annette wants to run off the stage (and as he very much doubts that Annette can be trusted to weather any more unexpected lyrics on her lonesome)—]
Up.
[The only thing he says to her before, like, half-turning back to that magical blackboard, watching the words light up for a moment before he painfully, reluctantly, begins mumble-singing once more. He has to cover for her, because she's—well! That's just how it's done! He'd cut his way to her side on the battlefield; he'll sing these cheesy, yet strangely accurate lyrics and hope she chimes in sooner or later.
I can't live without you if the love was gone Everything is nothing if you got no one—]
[ If they were anywhere else doing anything else, he can bet that pointy sword of his that she'd be quibbling over exactly whose fault this whole thing is. (His, it's obviously always his fault.)
But the music's still rolling and the crowd (of three) is still clamoring, and she feels weirdly soft and warm inside as he turns back to face the crowd and starts mumbling back into his microphone. Like one of Mercie's cakes, fresh-baked from the oven. It's sweet that he's doing all of this just for her, and she's always loved sweet things. So Felix wins - ""wins"" because is this really a victory - this round as she bumbles back to his side under the spotlights, thin voice gaining strength the longer they sing together because that's the power of music, baby.
Or just the power of this amped up juicebox blasting tunes around them.
She's mellowed back out by the time the song ends not too much later, their voices stumbling discordantly together before fading off. There's a 'finally' that drifts up from the crowd but Annette barely notices, chest filled with a whirlwind of emotions left over from their rollercoaster of a duet.
It's suddenly uncomfortably warm in here, and she finds that she can't quite bring herself to look directly at Felix, not after all of that. Therefore the floor becomes her new best friend as she stares at her feet, cheeks warm. ]
Hey, Felix.....thanks.
[ She's still talking to him though, even as she talks to the ground. ]
[It's a definite relief, watching the last words fade from the magical blackboard. Even Annette's presence can only do so much to ease the discomfort of being in the spotlight—but as Felix lowers his mic, turning to lead them away from these goddess-forsaken lights as briskly as possible, of course he looks over Annette's way as they reach the corner of the stage? Of course the world narrows to her and her alone the instant she speaks, because there is just... something about the way she looks right now. She's staring at the ground and Felix takes full advantage of it, studying her down-turned face without thinking anything of it. Have her eyelashes always been this long...
Or: This mood magic is powerful stuff, and Felix is still feelin' it. Very much so. His throat is painfully dry, but he forces himself to swallow, to take a second to collect himself before he offers up the gruff:]
It was nothing.
[It was, but it wasn't? It wasn't a thing Felix enjoyed, but it's a thing Felix would do again... for Annette. Huh. Maybe that's why he feels the need to keep it goin'.]
You were... good, [he finishes, lamely, and immediately knows that he could do better? That he should do better, and thus:] Your voice, I mean. And the way you—I don't know. Hopped around.
[Were this a movie, this is undoubtedly where Annette would look up, wide-eyed, and Felix would manage to say something Meaningful—but as this is not a movie, one of those fooligans in the crowd feels the need to pipe up with the rude (but perfectly timed) interjection that is: "Well? Are you going to kiss her or what?"
...He wants to, is the thing. He does, despite the, what, one pair of eyes apparently trained on them at this very moment, but Annette is staring at the floor—and so Felix offers her his hand? To help her down these stairs, of course. His burning face Does Not Matter.]
But his words - slurred though they might be - inspire something in her, a small bubble of feeling definitely exacerbated by the spirit of Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers. She peeps up through said long eyelashes at his face, red and frowning but also weirdly cute? Is that even a word that can be used to describe Felix?
It doesn't matter - she's not really running on logic anymore anyway. Emotions are at an all-time high and she's full to bursting with them, and so instead of taking his hand and moseying off the stage and off into the crowd to find Sylvain and Dimitri, she takes his hand—and uses it as leverage, pulling herself onto her tippytoes in order to land a quick peck on one red cheek. ]
Okay, let's go!
[ Let's go and never speak of this again as she resumes her duties as Tiny but Feisty Girl by dragging him off. ]
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no subject
I didn't know what it was about, [he hisses back to her, like they are not on stage, like that idiot is not hassling them.] I said you'd be better alone, but you gave me that—look.
[So this is entirely your fault, Annette, please take responsibility. And also please take his hand as he straightens, because something, something, as he very much doubts that Annette wants to run off the stage (and as he very much doubts that Annette can be trusted to weather any more unexpected lyrics on her lonesome)—]
Up.
[The only thing he says to her before, like, half-turning back to that magical blackboard, watching the words light up for a moment before he painfully, reluctantly, begins mumble-singing once more. He has to cover for her, because she's—well! That's just how it's done! He'd cut his way to her side on the battlefield; he'll sing these cheesy, yet strangely accurate lyrics and hope she chimes in sooner or later.
I can't live without you if the love was gone
Everything is nothing if you got no one—]
no subject
But the music's still rolling and the crowd (of three) is still clamoring, and she feels weirdly soft and warm inside as he turns back to face the crowd and starts mumbling back into his microphone. Like one of Mercie's cakes, fresh-baked from the oven. It's sweet that he's doing all of this just for her, and she's always loved sweet things. So Felix wins - ""wins"" because is this really a victory - this round as she bumbles back to his side under the spotlights, thin voice gaining strength the longer they sing together because that's the power of music, baby.
Or just the power of this amped up juicebox blasting tunes around them.
She's mellowed back out by the time the song ends not too much later, their voices stumbling discordantly together before fading off. There's a 'finally' that drifts up from the crowd but Annette barely notices, chest filled with a whirlwind of emotions left over from their rollercoaster of a duet.
It's suddenly uncomfortably warm in here, and she finds that she can't quite bring herself to look directly at Felix, not after all of that. Therefore the floor becomes her new best friend as she stares at her feet, cheeks warm. ]
Hey, Felix.....thanks.
[ She's still talking to him though, even as she talks to the ground. ]
no subject
Or: This mood magic is powerful stuff, and Felix is still feelin' it. Very much so. His throat is painfully dry, but he forces himself to swallow, to take a second to collect himself before he offers up the gruff:]
It was nothing.
[It was, but it wasn't? It wasn't a thing Felix enjoyed, but it's a thing Felix would do again... for Annette. Huh. Maybe that's why he feels the need to keep it goin'.]
You were... good, [he finishes, lamely, and immediately knows that he could do better? That he should do better, and thus:] Your voice, I mean. And the way you—I don't know. Hopped around.
[Were this a movie, this is undoubtedly where Annette would look up, wide-eyed, and Felix would manage to say something Meaningful—but as this is not a movie, one of those fooligans in the crowd feels the need to pipe up with the rude (but perfectly timed) interjection that is: "Well? Are you going to kiss her or what?"
...He wants to, is the thing. He does, despite the, what, one pair of eyes apparently trained on them at this very moment, but Annette is staring at the floor—and so Felix offers her his hand? To help her down these stairs, of course. His burning face Does Not Matter.]
Come on.
no subject
But his words - slurred though they might be - inspire something in her, a small bubble of feeling definitely exacerbated by the spirit of Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers. She peeps up through said long eyelashes at his face, red and frowning but also weirdly cute? Is that even a word that can be used to describe Felix?
It doesn't matter - she's not really running on logic anymore anyway. Emotions are at an all-time high and she's full to bursting with them, and so instead of taking his hand and moseying off the stage and off into the crowd to find Sylvain and Dimitri, she takes his hand—and uses it as leverage, pulling herself onto her tippytoes in order to land a quick peck on one red cheek. ]
Okay, let's go!
[ Let's go and never speak of this again as she resumes her duties as Tiny but Feisty Girl by dragging him off. ]