The declaration of love for cinema popcorn wasn’t a new one but it still made Chance smile. Lyric’s eternal chipper attitude was contagious but in this case, he had to agree—even if it didn’t taste right at the moment. “I don’t think I told you that Gram got me my own popcorn machine like the ones out in the lobby years ago.” He knew he told her early on that he’d never been to the cinema before moving to Greenbrooke so he skipped that portion of the reasoning behind the gift. “She wanted to make movies even better for me since I loved them so much.” It probably didn’t hurt that he had pestered everyone in the manor relentlessly for three days about what it was like going to the movies and if it was really like what he saw on their TV.
Chance also left off the part where Rafe had granted permission to turn a portion of the basement level into a private theatre with three rows of six reclining seats. He didn’t always use it as gathering around the TV, sprawled on couches fit certain viewings, like doing a marathon of an old show. Still, Lyric didn’t need to know about that room as Chance already worried she viewed him as a spoiled brat.
Once the previews started, Chance fell silent. Even if they were just ads, he hated talking too much during them and treated them like the actual movie. That didn’t stop him from sometimes leaning over to share whisper an observation or remark on a scene that was truly spectacular in one way or another but for the most part, he stayed silent, falling into the world laid out before him.
When the movie ended, they stayed in their seats, letting the crowd go first. Since it was an old movie and the idea of putting extra scenes after the credits hadn’t taken off yet, there wasn’t a reason to wait but it also gave them a chance to express any dire thoughts about what they just saw. “So, good news—it wasn’t a fever dream and I remembered most of the movie,” Chance chuckled, though he was also relieved that he hadn’t made up what he thought the movie was about. “The last dance is still iconic and I promise I won’t ask to re-enact it once we head outside.” Even with his complete lack of dance experience and what he used to think of as his noodle arms, his vampire strength would at least be able to hold Lyric in that lift but he didn’t want to risk it all the same.
Chance also left off the part where Rafe had granted permission to turn a portion of the basement level into a private theatre with three rows of six reclining seats. He didn’t always use it as gathering around the TV, sprawled on couches fit certain viewings, like doing a marathon of an old show. Still, Lyric didn’t need to know about that room as Chance already worried she viewed him as a spoiled brat.
Once the previews started, Chance fell silent. Even if they were just ads, he hated talking too much during them and treated them like the actual movie. That didn’t stop him from sometimes leaning over to share whisper an observation or remark on a scene that was truly spectacular in one way or another but for the most part, he stayed silent, falling into the world laid out before him.
When the movie ended, they stayed in their seats, letting the crowd go first. Since it was an old movie and the idea of putting extra scenes after the credits hadn’t taken off yet, there wasn’t a reason to wait but it also gave them a chance to express any dire thoughts about what they just saw. “So, good news—it wasn’t a fever dream and I remembered most of the movie,” Chance chuckled, though he was also relieved that he hadn’t made up what he thought the movie was about. “The last dance is still iconic and I promise I won’t ask to re-enact it once we head outside.” Even with his complete lack of dance experience and what he used to think of as his noodle arms, his vampire strength would at least be able to hold Lyric in that lift but he didn’t want to risk it all the same.
