Gentle steps clip-clopped behind his slower, stronger strides, along with the incessant 'scritch' noise of Alex's bag being lazily dragged along their delicate floor tiles. "Jeez, give me that." Brynn snatched the offending bag from the loose hold Alex had on its straps, slinging it over one shoulder and carrying on. The house was reassuringly quiet, warm yet not oppressively so, and the scent of lilac danced in and out of range; it was all a nice reminder of 'home,' more so than the grand stairs or the comfy sofa—well, no, he did love that sofa, the only one the young man had ever come across that was long enough for him to stretch out and take a nice nap. Lips pursed in a show of being indifferent to Alex, pale eyes trained carefully forward as to see only rebellious ginger strands as far as she went. Yet, nature's biggest mistake could not resist a: "My every move? Voyeurism is not a healthy hobby, Miss Sietta."
Brynn Amador skipped into the kitchen, devil in tow, flinging open the towering white doors of the fridge without hesitation. Its shelves were lined with the usuals, add a few cupcakes stashed at the top where a certain household member had no chances of even glimpsing the stolen treats and an inviting six pack of beers. His father knew, of course, that he drank; however, he was convinced that was a 'one or twice a month' occurrence and 'not unusual for a curious boy' and so sneaking deserts like those in were easy-peazy, hide-them-from-mom-lemon-squeezy. "Alex, up for a drink?" He turned to face her, his expression daring, smirk screaming 'bet you couldn't' in an annoyingly silent tone. "You know, Alexandra, you're not so much of an eyestrain. Maybe if you brush your hair, get some sun, and hit puberty, you might be able to actually get a boyfriend."