I Was Killed, Outta The Closet Now! |Anna!|

[Sinclair]

Sinclair Gabriel had it going pretty well in Bayville. Over the years he'd lived there, he had often experienced a roller coaster of emotions, not at all unlike an amusement park's ride that was far too complicated for it's own good. They threw in twists and turns as though they were doing everyone a favor- which, if you asked Sinclair, they were not. But at the moment, he was on the straight stretch, with no danger to scream at in the foreseeable future.

So he slept soundly that night, laying on the floor of his room rather than his bed. Why the floor? Because he had odd rules. Like sleeping facing a wall. Or the fact that he had to be near the window, and he had to have his back to the doorway. They were safety rules, things that helped him sleep at night, but Sinclair would never explain why he had to have them. In fact, the rules themselves didn't get mentioned because if he had another person in the room, he didn't feel a need to keep up with them as the other person made him comfortable enough. But Sin was alone.

Worse yet? His pleasant dream became a nightmare. What was once a beautiful girl offering him a sucker morphed into a horrible dream where the girl became Isabelle, and she disappeared. When he went to find her, he couldn't. And then, he went from the Corporation to a closet in the Institute, where she pulled him inside. Sin, wide-eyed with surprise, expected the situation to be worse. Instead Isabelle stood. She told him she was dead, to which Sin was speechless. She went on to say it was because of the institute (something Sin was already thinking, which was precisely why his subconscious provided that explanation. That damn institute was going to get Isabelle killed!) that she was gone, which was why Sin startled awake with a gasp.

After hurried dressing (yes, the Guitar Hero pajama pants he was already wearing were acceptable, but he had to find a shirt and socks, then his shoes) he sneaked out of the house as quietly as he could.

Yes. It was necessary to find Isabelle at three in the morning, to ensure that she was okay. Since her home was closer, he was going to start there, but if he had to go to the institute, Sinclair would. Besides, he needed the walk to clear his head. By the time he reached Isabelle's door, he was fairly calm. So he knocked at the door, silently praying that Isabelle would be here.

[Decadence]

When the knocks on Isabelle Amherst's door were heard echoing throughout the two-story house, Isabelle was (surprisingly) dead asleep. In an attempt to fix her sleeping patterns so that she was no longer nocturnal, at nine o' clock at night, she had taken a sleeping pill-- one that specifically demanded she dedicate at least eight hours to sleeping. Therefore, at three o'clock in the morning, only six of those hours had gone by, so Isabelle continued to sleep soundly despite the thumping at her front door.

Justin Ashby, however, had taken no such sleeping pill, and each knock at that door pulled him further away from the sleep to which he so desired to return. Groggily, he pulled his fluffy white pillow over his head and around his ears, hoping to mute the sound of the visitor's knocks. When this didn't work, he turned so that he was facing the direction of his best friend's bedroom.

"Belles, get the door," he half-shouted, half-mumbled, not realizing in his groggy stupor that there was no way that she could hear him. When the knocks continued he finally tossed the pillow aside with grumpy violence and stomped out of his bed. "I'm coming, I'm coming," he said finally, marching down the stairs to the front door and finally swinging it open. Slightly more awake after feeling the rush of cold night air against his face, Justin squinted at the visitor.

"Oh, you must be that Sinclair kid that Belles is always gushing about," Justin said smugly. "Come in. She's in her room." Assuming that Sinclair would shut the door, Justin turned around and walked back up the stairs without checking to see if Sinclair was following. He opened Isabelle's door without hesitation and walked over to the side of her bed.

"Belles, your boyfriend is here," he informed in a half-hearted attempt to wake her. She didn't budge, and Justin was not in the mood to shout at her, shake her violently, or do anything that would require much effort, especially since he knew full well that neither of these things would awaken his sleeping log of a best friend when she was deep in slumber. What he was about to do would be much easier and faster. Taking hold of the edge of her blanket, not realizing that she was rolled up within it, he took a step back and yanked it into the air, resulting in Isabelle toppling onto the ground.

"OWWW. Justin?! Wh-th-hellllll?" Isabelle cursed, her words slurred together in drug-induced disorientation. She brushed her hair out of her face and slowly sat up.

"Oops. Sorry," Justin muttered, not showing very much remorse in his voice. "She's all yours," he added, looking over at Sinclair. He was about to leave, but then as some of his sleepiness went away, some of his instinctive must-protect-best-friend-from-any-boy-that's-in-her-bedroom impulses kicked in, and he remained glued in his spot next to Isabelle.

"Huh?" While standing up, Isabelle looked over at the doorway and smiled once she saw her other best friend, Sinclair Gabriel. "Oh hi best frennnn!" she greeted with an odd combination of cheerfulness and tiredness. She walked over to Sinclair, slightly more clumsy than she normally was, and automatically gave him a tight hug, something she definitely did not do normally.

"I thought I was your best friend," Justin muttered offendedly, although Isabelle did not hear him.

"Sowhatareyouudoingheeeeere?" she asked Sinclair after pulling away from the hug that she normally would not have given.

[Sinclair]

Sinclair was sure he had the wrong house when a boy answered. He was positive. Oh, god, how he hoped this was the wrong house. But no. The kid knew his name. Sinclair was speechless, staring at the boy in front of him. Well, at least he knew who Isabelle was. That was good. Maybe. Did Isabelle have any brothers? Sin couldn't remember her mentioning any, but it made sense. Who else would be in her house? Whatever the reason, he was invited in, so he stepped in. He was on the Archangel's side, he was the threat, so he was safe, right? Okay, that's what he was telling himself as he pushed the door closed behind him. When he turned back around, Justin was already walking upstairs, so he followed silently.

If nothing else could be taken from this, at least Isabelle mentioned him. And if 'gushed' was as good as it sounded (it sounded oddly girly to him) then that was even better. But gushed would be used to describe a gorey scene if Sin used it, so he could be wrong. It wouldn't surprise him if he was.

Finally, they reached Isabelle's room. But his happiness in that was quickly overshadowed by the fact that Justin called him her boyfriend. That was a double-edged sword. He was not her boyfriend, and he wanted to point that out. Unfortunately, he couldn't bring himself to because the comment served a purpose in elevating his own status and proving to him that this stranger didn't know as much as he assumed.

When Isabelle was pulled to the floor, Sinclair was close to responding with the same sentence in a less slurred tone. What was that about? Isabelle sat up, though, and Sin's anger evaporated, replaced with concern at the fact that she was slurring and that she'd just fallen. Not that the fall was her fault, but still.

Sinclair ignored Justin. After the stunt, he didn't even want to look at him. He assumed he'd leave, though. But he would have noticed because Justin was too close to Isabelle to really miss.

"Good morning, liebling,"Sinclair greeted, his tone soft and soothing as he wrapped his own arms around her in a loose (and somewhat startled) hug. It was followed by muttering that, while Isabelle may not have heard him, Sin did. It made him smile. Just her friend? That wasn't too bad.

"Making sure you're okay,"Sinclair answered honestly,"You are okay, right?" She seemed alright, but he still wanted to ask. To hear it from her, really.

[Decadence]

While Sinclair's reciprocation of the hug seemed startled and unsure, Isabelle held back no affection, which for her, meant that something was definitely off. She didn't even seem to notice Sinclair's slight confusion at the embrace.

"Why d' you ahways call me that? I don' even know whad it means," Isabelle rambled, speaking the first thought that popped into her mind, obviously still disoriented.

"Em I okay?" Isabelle looked confused, then concerned. She paused and thought about it for a moment, then she rolled up the long sleeves of the shirt she had been sleeping in and started thoroughly checking her arms for cuts or scrapes. Nothing. She looked down at her legs and lifted them, one at a time, to ensure that both of them were still in tact, not bleeding, and perfectly functional. They were. "I think so," she said, proudly and happily.

"She's okay. You can go home now," Justin promised, doing his best (and failing miserably) to remain civil. Even though he and Isabelle were constantly rude and aggressive with each other, he felt he was the only one allowed to treat her that way, and for some reason, he felt an instinctive distrust of this 'Sinclair' person who was now standing closer to Isabelle than he was comfortable with.

"No, don' go," Isabelle said immediately, her eyes suddenly resembling that of a sick puppy.

"Belles, dear, let the nice man go, you're a bit too drugged out to have any idea what you're saying anyway," Justin warned, using an exaggeratedly calm and patient voice that one might use with a patient in a psychiatric hospital. Even though his tone suggested that he was teasing Isabelle, being playful, he was actually acting partially as a genuinely concerned best friend and partially as a territorial jerk. His patience and ability to play things off as if he was 'just joking' was running low.

"Oh, shad up, Justin. I'm cooler than you. Just ask your mom," Isabelle retorted randomly, far too tired to think of a more sensible comeback. Justin shook his head. If he knew Isabelle, he knew that she would end up regretting half the things she said while half-asleep, but he also knew that there was no way to stop her from saying them.

"All righty then. If you need me, I'll be downstairs," he informed, leaving the room. He chuckled to himself, knowing that the next day, he would receive an earful for not trying harder to stop her from making a moron out of herself.

[Sinclair]

"Darling. It means darling,"Sinclair answered calmly. She'd never asked before, but at this point, he didn't mind telling her. He would have if she would have asked up at the cliffs, but not now.

"Thank God,"Sinclair replied, his tone laced with the laughter that was threatening to escape his lips at her little 'checking' proceedure. But, any traces of laughter disapeared in favor of a cold look. It was times like these that he knew why he joined the Archangel Corporation. If he wanted to be, he could be cold. When it came to Isabelle, he would be cold. Sinclair had no intentions of leaving, not after she told him not to go, even if this Justin fool thought he should. Surprisingly, Isabelle handled it.

Her answer brought his smile back again. Oh, man. She was hilarious. Seriously. Much to his surprise, Justin actually left.

"He's not my favorite person."Sinclair announced."But, I guess it's nice to know he's here, watching out for you. I would worry about you if you were here all by yourself." No, strike that, Sin /did/ worry about her when she was here alone, which was the only reason he liked the institute. It'd keep Isabelle safe (when he wasn't convinced it'd kill her)

[Decadence]

"Really?" Isabelle said, her eyes lighting up momentarily as Sinclair revealed the meaning of the nickname that he used for her. "That's nice. I always thought it meant... dorky girl who can't walk in a straight line and fears electric staplers, something along those lines," she added with a laugh. "Although I guess that would be a bizzarely specific definition for one word... you wouldn't be able to use it very often, I suppose." She continued to smile at the knowledge that he had been calling her darling all along. "Hey wait, you don't call all your female friends that, do you?" If she had been more than half awake when this concern crossed her mind, she would have known better than to voice it aloud, knowing that it might make him uncomfortable and that the answer might not be the one she would prefer. Unfortunately, the sleeping pill's effects had not yet worn off, which meant that her sense of tact had not yet returned to her.

Isabelle smiled when Sinclair thanked God for her still being in one piece when he found her. "Yes, we all know it's a God-given miracle when I somehow find a way to make it through the night without hurting myself," she joked in mockery of her own comical tendency to attract freak accidents and disasters wherever she went, whether it be nearly falling off of cliffs, getting attacked by tigers, or being hit by violent waves.

"Justin? Watch out for me?" Isabelle let out another laugh at the very idea. "Justin's a big baby. If murderers broke into our home, he would probably offer me up as a sacrifice in exchange for his own safety. He means well, though." She chuckled again.

"What time is it anyway?" she finally asked, rubbing her eyes and realizing that this was the first time he'd seen her in pajamas with bedhead and no make-up on. She turned around and looked at the clock next to her bed, which read 3:21 a.m. "Son of a mother!" she exclaimed, whipping her head back around to face Sinclair again. "What made you feel the sudden need to check on me at three in the morning?" she inquired with a confused laugh, clearly flabbergasted.

[Sinclair]

"No, just you."Sinclair answered,"I strive to be original, and by giving you each unique nicknames, it's easier to remember you. Besides, if I started calling you 'little Sparrow', like I call the Casey girl, then it'll all go to hell. In fact, it's the most affectionate name I could think of at the time. I figured if you were calling me Mystery, and refusing to call me by my rightful name of Sinclair, I should get to call you something that didn't make sense. 'Cause apparently Mystery made sense to you. And liebling made sense to me. Everyone wins."

Sinclair was not telling her Kaycee's nickname (plus, Shea doesn't remember giving Kaycee a nickname yet XD) if he didn't have to, so he brought up Desirae Casey. Maybe she'd think the two were interchangeable. That'd be alright by him. Or maybe he was reminding her of Kaycee, which would not be good at all. Oh well. She went on to joke that it was a miracle she was still okay. This early in the morning, Sin didn't laugh. His humor was compromised too, it seemed. While her hugging him filled him with joy and amusement, her joking did not. Not that he'd say so. He'd let her be amused, and he'd smile along with her. At least he could respond when she mentioned Justin being afraid.

"Well, he wasn't afraid of me, that's a good start,"Sinclair offered, before a smirk took over his expression."Actually that boy knew precisely who I was, Isabelle, and I for one have never seen him before in my life. You, on the other hand.

[/b]" It wasn't a sentence that continued, though it sounded like it should have. Sinclair did not feel it needed to continue. He continued to smirk, obviously pleased with himself. When she asked him what time it was, he kept quiet and his expression slipped slightly to worry. He was not answering that one directly. But as to why he was here that early, he'd answer that and toss in the first question's answer casually. It was the 'you were dead' part he didn't wanna admit to.

"Well, see, I had this dream involving closets and you telling me to come out of it when I was inside and not being able to find you and such. It was horrible- there was no jell-o at all, and I entered that institute to find you. I risked my sanity. Then, I woke up and decided to make sure you weren't hurt because you were gone a long time. And really, I don't know what goes on in that institute, but most of the time I'm sure it's nothing good." Sinclair's answer made all the sense in the world. . .Or, okay, maybe he was a little bit tired, too. Just maybe. He wouldn't say so.[/center][/size][/color]

[Decadence]

Isabelle caught Sinclair's not-so-subtle smirk, and she smiled to herself, realizing that he was probably rather pleased with the knowledge that she had mentioned him. On the other hand, he had no idea what exactly it was that she had said about him. For all he knew, she could very well have been complaining about how hard-headed and stubborn he was, and she intended to keep it that way for the sake of her own amusement.

"Fine, you caught me. We talk about you all the time," she admitted willingly, then sealed her lips with a smile, showing no intention to continue speaking. He didn't need to know that she spent much of her free time talking about how much he fascinated her or how much she liked him.

When he explained his bizarre dream/nightmare thing, Isabelle had trouble listening through the entire speech without laughing at any point. The explanation was barely coherent. His tiredness seemed to have impaired his ability to speak, and her exhaustion had definitely handicapped her ability to listen and understand. When he finished his story, she finally let out a little laugh and shook her head apologetically.

“Yeah... I'm sorry, Mystery, all I really heard was 'dream,' 'closets,' 'jell-o,' and 'killed,' so the image was kinda funny,” she explained. After more of the dream had processed in her head, she added, “But I'm glad you're willing to step foot into the dreaded Institute for my sake. Means a lot.” She smiled appreciatively and then blinked a few times, struggling to fight the dose of sleep inducement that she had taken only to realize that it was basically futile.

“Hey. You seem really tired, and I know I’m tired, and it doesn’t really seem safe to be walking back to your house at this hour. I mean, you could be mugged or raped or kidnapped by evil Institute officials for interrogation… or attacked by an angry tiger. Then again, you managed to get here safely in one piece, but I’d still feel more comfortable if-”

Isabelle stopped speaking mid-sentence, realizing that she was rambling without thinking about the words that came out of her mouth again, like she always did when she was nervous. It made sense for her to be nervous considering what she intended to ask him, especially since they technically were just friends, even if they had almost kissed at one point. She knew that there still were boundaries that had to be obeyed, but their friendship/relationship was so complex with all the hand-holding and the almost-kisses and the sudden proclamations of having fallen for each other, all on top of the fact that they worked for two rival organizations, both of which would never approve of a romantic relationship between the Sinclair and Isabelle; with all of these complications, she was no longer sure where those boundaries were, so she decided to keep pushing in order to find them. “Never mind. Stay the night?” she offered bluntly. “You can… ‘look out for me.’ Since we both know the kid with his ear pressed against my door right now isn’t going to do it.”

Stifled laughter was heard from outside the door, followed by fading footsteps as the eavesdropper realized defeat and left.

“So will you stay?”

[Sinclair]

"I know you do. I mean, who wouldn't?"Sinclair responded with a chuckle. He was Sinclair Gabriel, after all! That was saying something. "But, you know, if you're still interested in finding my heart, that's a great head start. Flattery will get you far." Yes. With Sinclair, flattery could get you anywhere. Who didn't like a little ego boost? Instead of once in a while, Sinclair was quite satisfied to accept it whenever he could. Not that he wasn't full of himself to begin with, because of course he was. And why shouldn't he be? He did think he was pretty damn amazing, and no one seemed too adamant in disagreeing. Even when they did, he didn't mind.

"Well, as long as you didn't conclude I was gay, I suppose we're doing okay."Sinclair replied with a shrug. The laugh didn't bother him- it was too pretty of a sound to mind. Besides, what more could he do, reallY? He wasn't going to explain it to her further, though he knew he could have. It didn't matter that much, though, because she went on to say she was glad he was willing to go into the institute, he smiled. Yes, an accomplished smile, as though we didn't see that one coming.


Sinclair wanted to argue with 'I'm not tired!' in much the same manner as a toddler might. As though arguing would get him anywhere. He refrained, mostly because Isabelle kept talking and by the time she was done, he'd forgotten what she'd started the conversation with. He did laugh aloud when she said he could be mugged or raped or kidnapped- all very likely options in Sinclair's mind. Then, the tiger bit kept him laughing, though he would have gladly added,'been there, done that'. Before he could, she gave him credit for making it there in the first place, which made Sinclair grin with pride. Of course he did! It was her he was worried about, it shouldn't be the other way around.

When Isabelle finally directly asked the question of whether he wanted to stay, Sinclair stared at her, his expression questioning. Was she for real? He invited himself to her house, got her woken up, rambled off some story she couldn't even follow, and she wanted him to stay? He wasn't even dressed properly! And who knew exactly what his hair looked like. Beyond that, the simple fact that she trusted him enough to invite him to sleep in her house was enough to ponder, without anything extra. But, she had one part right- if he did stay, he would look out for her. Not that he didn't insist on doing that already, anyway. When she got Justin to laugh by knowing he was outside the door, Sin did smile briefly. It was quickly lost in favor of the questioning look.

"You want me to stay here? I show up at your house at three in the morning, I don't explain why I'm here. You've got your friend here. And you want me to stay?"Sinclair questioned,"Honestly, Isabelle. Sometimes I just don't get you. I'm sure I'd make it home just fine, but I'm always in favor of keeping you safe when I can."

[Decadence]

Isabelle merely smiled as Sinclair was questioning the fact that she had invited him to spend the night. It sounded fairly innocent in her head. After all, they were good friends, and it would have been a shame to make him walk all the way home at three-thirty in the morning after he had already gone out of his way just to check on her. In addition to that, it wasn't like affection was something new between them.

"Good, because I want you to stay," Isabelle agreed after Sinclair stated that he would be in favor of keeping her safe. "Besides-- France and Germany signed the Élysée Treaty in 1963. Our ancestors would have wanted us to look out for each other. We can't let them down," she added with a laugh; she had never thought that history class would help to provide her with an excuse to ask a boy to stay at her house.

With a mischievous idea in mind, Isabelle took a step forward to close up what little space was between them. "As for finding your heart? Flattery would work, but it would take too long. I have a better idea." Slowly wrapping her arms around his back, she pressed her ear closely against his chest and said nothing, allowing the room to fall into silence. Once she heard the thumping that was Sinclair's heart, she smiled and said in a faint voice, "There it is. I found it. <3" Still, she kept her ear pressed on his chest and her arms around him and continued to listen to his heart beating.


{p.s. Yes. The heart was very necessary.

p.p.s. Sorry it's so short.

p.s.p.s. Happy Fathers' Day! }

[Sinclair]

Isabelle was not the kind of girl that Sinclair could see in a classroom setting. Sure, she had to be there, but she didn't seem like the kinda girl who'd really know much. How could you take academics seriously and still be as carefree as she was? Besides. Nerds and geeks were the kinds of kids Sinclair Gabriel was fond of picking on, though he wouldn't admit that was so. While Sinclair was not always a bully, he was popular among his peers, and he was compelled to play the part from time to time.

And who better to harass than kids who were smarter than him? Yet, Isabelle.did not fit the bill, so her knowledge was met with a smirk. Huh, France and Germany had a treaty, did they? He was sure he'd learned that along the way, during his schooling in Germany, but he wasn't recalling it now. Not that he minded. History was not Sin's strong subject and he didn't want it to be. But ever the physical one, Sinclair half expected her to get a pen and a paper out to make them sign their own, which would have amused Sinclair to no end. Unfortunately, that's not what happened. But something far better did happen. When Isabelle stepped closer, Sinclair was certainly curious. She said something about flattery and something about doing something instead, but all Sinclair could think about was her being close and the way his heart was beating against his chest. When Isabelle placed her ear against his chest, he didn't know what to say, let alone what to do. Her explanation that she'd found it seemed to remind him where he was, and why. Enough so that he could respond.

"So did I,"Sinclair answered as he wrapped his arms around Isabelle, keeping her close to him. "You are easily the most adorable girl I have ever met, Isabelle." Isabelle was easily his favorite person, but telling her that directly rahter than just that she was adorable would take the fun right out of it, so Sinclair kept the game going, only parting with the compliment because he eflt it was entirely necessary to do so.

{Yes, it was. Very necessary. XD}

[Decadence]

There was something so comforting, reassuring, about listening to the constant steady beating of Sinclair's heart. Feeling it start to beat more rapidly made her smile and caused her own heart to begin thumping in her chest. It was in that rare, flawless moment that she began to think that this was how things should have been all of the time. She started to imagine a relationship with him—a real one, minus the sneaking around so that their co-workers would not question their allegiances and the fear in the back of their minds that something horrible could happen if they were found to be anything more than friends. Then she remembered that he had his loyalty to the Dark Angel, which she imagined was strong, something that she tried to respect even if it kept them apart, and she had made a promise to the X-Men as well. Everything was just so… complicated. And messy. It saddened her to think about it, so she let herself forget it and returned to simply enjoying the moment.

“Awww. You’re not just sayin’ that so you won’t have to take the couch, are you?” she lightheartedly kidded. “’Cause if you are, it’s totally working.” This was merely her sneaky ploy to con him into sleeping next to her, which she had fully intended to do the entire time, but he didn’t need to know that. “And you, Mystery, are easily, without a doubt, the second most adorable person I have ever met,” she teased, finally pulling away from their hug with a wink to show that she was joking.

Eager to get back to sleep, or at least into a sleeping position, she turned around, walked toward her bed and crawled back underneath the covers, pulling part of the blanket back as an invitation for him to follow.

{Eh... I tried, but it's still an awkward post. =/ tell me if you need me to edit.}

[Sinclair]

Sinclair could honestly say this had never happened to him before. He would have expected that he would have initiated the idea of sleeping with Isabelle, but, even though this was only the literal definition of the word, she seemed to invite it. And on the one hand, it was flattering. It was a show of trust, and it was definitely not hurting anything, right? But he had expected to be on the couch, or a guest room, or something like that, not actually in her bed. He glanced toward the door, silently considering the likelihood of Justin coming in and getting the wrong impression. But, he decided he didn't care. A fight with Justin might actually make him feel better. So Sinclair just smiled. Besides, he was oddly more worried about the joke that he was the second most adorable person. Who was the first? His suspicious mind questioned whether it was Justin, of course, which was bound to make him crazy. Fortunately, the wink eased his mind enough that he could smile in return, as though he were amused (which he wasn't.)

"If that other kid gets the wrong idea, it's on you, and I refuse to be held responsible if he ends up hurt."Sinclair warned as he reacted to her invitation, climbing onto her bed."And, if it makes you feel special, you should probably know that you're the first girl who's bed I've slept in, and that such a thing will not reoccur until I've kissed you. You see, there is order and balance to these sorts of things, whether we get it right or not." The fact that he said it would not happen again was indeed a 'threat', as though he were saying, 'even if you like it, it won't happen again until I get what I want'. But, Sinclair didn't stay interested in that long, because his mind went to how very strange it was that he should find himself under the blankets, his gaze fixed on Isabelle, and to think of being younger of all things. Of feeling as safe as he did now, of feeling perfectly content with the way things were, and the way things would go. While he should have, and could have, been considering a million and two ways as to why this moment should have been both sexually tense and awkward, he could only think of the calm perfection that prevailed over him. In fact, so much so that he resisted the urge to touch Isabelle (considering their position, she might take it the wrong way, and Sin liked the moment far too much to allow anything to ruin it, much less his own actions.) Sinclair Gabriel was on his best behavior, and for good reason. Next time this happened with anyone, chances were Sinclair and that person would be very, very drunk long before either was willing to crawl into bed.

"Liebl- darling, I really did come over here because of a nightmare I had. . . Even the thought of anything happening to you- I couldn't bear it. I know you can watch out for yourself. I honestly don't doubt that. I just worry about you sometimes," Sinclair explained. It'd bothered him when she'd joked that it was a miracle that she was okay. He hadn't meant to give her that impression, even though past experience told him she really was more fragile than she'd admit. So, Sinclair intended on righting the wrong (and, if at all possible, defusing the awkward moment this was turning into)

[Decadence]

"Don't worry. You have my permission to abuse Justin. I do it every day." The next part of this conversation sounded familiar. You're inviting me to your bedroom already? But you haven't even kissed me yet, she remembered joking, and she definitely recalled his nonchalant yet implicit response. "Well, dear, that can be rectified," she quoted aloud with a chuckle when he insisted that there was an order and balance to these things that they had neglected to follow. She would have imitated his voice while saying it, but his voice was too supernatural to mimic, and she would have just sounded silly attempting it, so she didn't.
And yet, despite how easily they joked about it, they still hadn't kissed. They had been close, but then his sister had to barge in and force Isabelle to leave the building. Now there were no intruding Archangels or X-Men to stop them from doing whatever they pleased, and yet Isabelle felt rather content to just lie there with him. Perhaps that had something to do with the sleeping pill she had taken.

While making an effort to stay awake and prolong the feeling of knowing that Sinclair was lying beside her, there were a number of things that Isabelle wanted to say. She wanted to let him know that he was one of her best friends, but she had already mentioned that before. She wanted to tell him that she cared about him, but she was sure that he already knew. She wanted to say that she loved him, but she was confessedly a little bit afraid. Her feelings for Sinclair were not at all like the feelings of platonic adoration that she had for Justin. They were nothing similar to the feelings of lust or infatuation that she had once upon a time felt toward the other boys that she had dated. These feelings were much stronger and far deeper than anything she had felt before. But she wasn't sure if Sinclair truly felt the same way, and she didn't know how to say the three magic words without the risk of crossing the borderline between slightly awkward and severely uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to apologize. Justin says there should be a law that says I’m required to wear a fluorescent orange hazard sign with flashing red lights at all times. I know I can be a walking accident magnet,” she acknowledged with a sleepy chuckle. Normally, she would not have admitted that much, but she was exhausted; Justin had also told her that being tired was her personal equivalent of being drunk, because she no longer gave much thought to anything that came out of her mouth once she was tired.

“You know. I’m pretty dang sure that there’s a special lullaby clause somewhere in that treaty stating that in the event of a sleepover, Germany has to sing to France. Rules are rules,” Isabelle prompted with a smile, hoping that he wouldn’t mind. She was getting sleepier by the minute, so she needed him to do the talking (or in this case, singing) for a while.

[Sinclair]

Sinclair smiled at her laughter. He hadn't meant for it to be funny, but now that he considered it, it was amusing. Honestly, though, Sinclair was not used to taking relationships so slow. But with Isabelle, it felt right to tread the ground lightly. Toying with her was half the fun, even though there was no way to deny that he was falling for her hard. As far as Sinclair knew, she was fairly oblivious to his feelings, which was how he wanted to keep it. At least until he felt secure enough to approach her on the issue.

Sinclair fell silent for a moment after Isabelle brought up Justin. Though he joked about her being accident prone, he hadn't expected Justin to. Silently, he cursed himself for being so jealous of the kid. Isabelle was his, he didn't want to share her! But she had a life before she came to Bayville, before she met him. It was an unfortunate truth, and one Sinclair often denied. With Justin here now, he couldn't deny it easily. And besides. Just because he teased Isabelle, it didn't make it okay for other people to. Sinclair wanted nothing more than to protect her from everything and everyone, which included Justin just as much as it included his ex-girlfriend Kaycee. No, Sinclair would have made the world perfect for her, if he could have. Why was another matter entirely. He ended up smiling (though he certainly didn't feel like it)

"I see. That might be a bit dramatic- I'm still in favor of the padded room option."Sinclair joked, his tone both light and amused. That one had been her suggestion, so it was more fitting than the one Justin provided in Sinclair's mind. He was quite willing to drop the subject and move on when Isabelle began speaking about the treaty again.

"Well, if the treaty says so, suppose I better."Sinclair agreed, his tone casual as though it were just a matter of course. Now, to think of a song. . . He decided to go with an acoustic song.

"It's the way that you blush when you're nervous. It's your ability to make me earn this. I know that you're tired, just let me sing you to sleep. It's about how you laugh outta pity. 'Cause let's be honest, I'm not really that funny. I know that you're shot- just let me sing you to sleep. If you need anything, just say the word, I mean, anything. Rest assured that if you start to doze, that I'll tuck you in, plant my lips where your necklaces close."

"It's those pills that you don't need to take. Medicating perfection, now that's a mistake. I know that you're spent- just let me sing you to sleep."Sinclair paused here, drawing his hand up to gently swipe away hair from Isabelle's face (not that it was a necessary gesture) so that he could tuck it behind her ear as he smiled coyly. Once that was accomplished, he went on.

"It's your finger and how I'm wrapped around it. It's your grace and how it keeps me grounded. I know that you're tired (*... Sin substitutes the word. Yes. He does. Tired for weak.), just let me sing you to sleep. If you need anything, just say the word, I mean anything." This was not nearly as fun as it could have been for Sin. No crowds, no praise, just Isabelle, listening. Sinclair hated singing without music, and yet, here he was. It wasn't so bad, really.. Or, he at least told himself it was so. There was another type of satisfaction that came from this moment, one that he felt around Isabelle when things were going well. It was a feeling he couldn't get enough of.

"Rest assured, if you start to doze, then I'll tuck you in, plant my lips where your necklaces close. While you were sleeping, I figured out everything. I was constructed for you, and you were molded for me. Now I feel your name, coursing through my veins. You shine so bright, it's insane. You put the sun to shame. If you need anything, just say the word, I mean anything. Rest assured if you start to doze, then I'll tuck you in, plant my lips where your necklaces- if you need anything, just say the word, I mean anything. Rest assured, if you start to doze, then I'll tuck you in, plant my lips where your necklaces close." Sinclair wasn't sure of a time he was more anxious to fade off, to end a song. As cute as the song was, Sin was tired himself. Besides, he was much more comfortable when he was taking request rather than using music to hint toward his own feelings. Of course, he would not admit that he felt any emotions similar to the song he chose. But Sin was the type of person to plan these things out to a degree, even when he hadn't anticipated her request. He'd thought about singing to her again before now, and well, this song was on his list of potential songs, and at the moment it just fit..