From: cantspell	Date: January 13th, 2011 06:54 pm (UTC)		(Link)

If Emilie was the risen dead then Ciaran was definitely the opposite of that. The noise outside of the bedroom door didn't reach him, and neither did Emilie's first words of the morning. He was dead to the world.

However, Emilie moving meant that all of her body heat left with her. Ciaran's head lolled to the side as he pawed at and eventually grabbed the covers, pulling them up to his chest. Job done, his hand fell limp against his side again as his head settled into the cold side of the pillow.

He was missing out on Emilie's internal drama, but maybe that was for the best.

	From: babalon	Date: January 13th, 2011 08:40 pm (UTC)		(Link)

Jesus fuck shit god damn motherfucker, Emilie cursed mentally as the triplets jostled the knob a little more. Though this was paused briefly for an interlude of cold as the duvet pulled away from her chest.

"Stay the fuck out of my room, you little fucks!" Emile yelled at the door, which was followed by hushed little gasps of horror from the other side of the door and continued jostling of the handle.

She scowled and snatched the covers back, pulling them over her chest. Oh, and punched Ciaran in the shoulder.

"God dammit, Ciaran! Wake the fuck up!"

	From: cantspell	Date: January 13th, 2011 09:12 pm (UTC)		(Link)

And he was back with the living. Well, just about.

Ciaran groaned and rubbed his eyes as he reacquainted himself with being (barely) conscious.

Wait. This wasn't his room...was it?

Well one thing was for sure, this wasn't his bed. Sitting up, Ciaran stared almost blankly into the darkened room, panning from right to left until...oh. Emilie. This was Emilie's room. That solved that problem then.

Sliding back down, he let his hand brush against Emilie's thigh as his head returned to the pillow. Ciaran frowned a bit at the intrusive little noise coming from the other side of the room, hoping that it would go away soon.

"I'm awake..."

But only just, and probably not for very long.

	From: babalon	Date: January 13th, 2011 10:10 pm (UTC)		(Link)

"Hey. Asshole." Emilie leaned over him, scowling. "Get dressed. My Dad's home and if he finds you naked he will gut you.

She wrapped the duvet around herself and slunk off the bed, leaving Ciaran with nothing. Emilie threw open the curtains, temporarily blinding herself, and possibly Ciaran.

From her window you could see the entire park, and the New York skyline in the background. But she wasn't really thinking about that-- she was thinking about finding clothes as quickly as possible-- and the latex dress from last night was out.

	From: cantspell	Date: January 13th, 2011 10:49 pm (UTC)		(Link)

Ciaran was pretty good at filtering out noise when he was drifting off to sleep, but the words 'dad' 'home' and 'gut you' managed to find a way through his sleepy haze and into his brain.

Suddenly he was wide awake.

Emilie had stolen the bedclothes, but being cold was really the least of his concerns. Even the open curtains only served as a minute distraction to what was one of the fastest clothes hunts he'd taken part in.

One day he would drop everything in one place. One day he would get undressed right next to the bed and leave all of his clothes in one easy to find pile. And maybe one day he wouldn't sleep over when a girl's father was at home.

Ciaran was on the way to being half dressed. He pulled his jeans up around his hips, fastened them but gave up on the belt; he'd sort that out later.

He found his t-shirt, which was inside out, hanging over a chair. Turning it the right way, he pulled it over his head, completely oblivious to the rather fun mess his hair had become and went in search of his boots.

They weren't together of course, that would be too easy. One had to be all the way across the other side of the room and the other had to hide, didn't it? Because you weren't rushing enough without having to get down on your knees and look under things to figure out where you were stupid enough to ditch your right boot.

Ciaran found it eventually. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled his boots on and started to fasten up the laces. As he did, something occurred to him about the intrusive noise he'd heard. "...that wasn't someone trying to open your door before, was it?"

	From: babalon	Date: January 14th, 2011 12:01 am (UTC)		(Link)

Ciaran's rush for clothes was matched by Emilie's mad dash for the closet-- though she at least was getting new clothes to throw on. There were just some things you did not wear around your dad.

After a mad search for normal underwear, she slipped a t-shirt on, tugging it down at the sides. She was just about to answer said question when hushed giggles could be heard from outside of her doorway. There was a sound of running footsteps heading away from her door. She could faintly hear Mia yelling 'Daaaaaaaaaaaaaddyyyy;' that treacherous little wench.

"Three someones," Emilie finally replied, deadpan.

	From: cantspell	Date: January 14th, 2011 09:57 pm (UTC)		(Link)

Ciaran paused mid-way through lacing up one of his boots. Someone on the other side of the door was running up the hall and...shit.

Somehow he doubted that being clothed was going to diffuse whatever situation he encountered when he walked out of that door.

He finished lacing his boots and briefly considered his options. There was no floo here and they were far, far too high up for leaping out of windows.

"There's no other way out of here, is there?"

At least poor chicks had fire escapes.

	From: babalon	Date: January 14th, 2011 10:47 pm (UTC)		(Link)

"Not really?" Emilie sighed, her hands on her hips. She could try to disapparate, but with the current lack of serenity and the distance to anywhere far enough away? She couldn't guarantee that either one of them would come out un-splinched.

"We have to hide you."

	From: cantspell	Date: January 14th, 2011 11:01 pm (UTC)		(Link)

He fastened his belt and then shruggd his shoulders at her. Where was he going to hide? It wasn't as though he'd be easy to miss. Still, it seemed like a much better idea than say...running into Emilie's father.

"I guess I would fit in your closet..."

	From: babalon	Date: January 15th, 2011 12:05 am (UTC)		(Link)

"You guess?" Emilie arched an eyebrow at him. Was she going to have to drag him in there herself? She didn't have time to debate it, as there was a knock at her door. This one louder and with some purpose.

'Emilie?' Her dad. It sounded like more of a call to attention than a question. Like he was already scolding her. Her eyes widened with refreshed panic.

"Just a second!" She called back to the door and grabbed Ciaran by his arm, hissing silently under her breath. "Closet. Now."

	From: cantspell	Date: January 15th, 2011 12:34 am (UTC)		(Link)

After hearing Emilie's father on the other side of the bedroom door, Ciaran was more than happy to obey the commands given.

He pulled the doors shut behind him with a click and eyed his new hiding place. This was...ridiculous. It was almost as big as his room, and it wasn't even considered to be a room. It was just a closet to these people. Just a place to store the pricey shit you put on every day. Jesus.

Emilie was never being invited to his house.

There was a lot of latex in Emilie's closet. A lot. It made the fetish stores he'd been into look ridiculously understocked. Had she worn all of this?

Ciaran almost put his hand on one of the dresses, but pulled it back before he did. If those hangers moved he was dead. It would be easier to silently nose through stuff if he used his wand.

He put his hand to his back pocket, but there was nothing in it. Hm. Where was his wand?

	From: babalon	Date: January 15th, 2011 04:42 pm (UTC)		(Link)

Now at the door, Emilie opened it a crack, hoping she could keep him at bay with it somehow. He was dressed like he always was; button-up shirt, pressed slacks, Italian leather shoes... even on a day off with the family. She supposed that the lack of a blazer made it casual.

"Green again, Emilie?" Thomas raised an eyebrow at his daughter, looking rather unimpressed. "You know how your mother feels about the hair."

"Dad," She stared to argue, a scowl quick to form on her face. Emilie scoffed in frustration. It was no use to argue with him, he would always win. She learned from the best, but he would always be a little bit better.

After a couple of quick words in Latin, and a ruffle of her fingers through her hair-- she was back to her natural straw-blonde.

"Hey, cool." Her dad grinned, "That's a neat trick. Why don't you teach me how to do that sometime?" He joked.

"Why? You want to go blue on weekends?" Emilie smirked, and they both laughed. It was almost a perfectly normal family moment. Hallmark-worthy. That was until Thomas's smile dropped into a scowl. It was not unlike Emilie's, though her father's was more practiced, colder, worn.

"So where is he?" Thomas's voice grew as cold as the expression on his face.

"Where is who, Dad?" Emilie blinked at him, making a face as if he were asking something ridiculous and she didn't indeed have Ciaran stashed away in the closet.

"Don't lie to me, young lady." He pushed open the door and started to look around the room.

	From: cantspell	Date: January 15th, 2011 11:15 pm (UTC)		(Link)

His wand was somewhere in Emilie's room. Ciaran had been sure that he'd put it in his back pocket when he was getting dressed, but it wasn't there now so it must've fallen out. It certainly wasn't here with him, so that was the only place it could be.

If there was a god, his wand would have rolled under her bed. Not that Ciaran believed in said god, but his mother did and that had to count for something, didn't it?

He could hear the exchange of voices by the bedroom door, how the talking became laughter which became more serious talking. Not good. It occurred to Ciaran in this moment that he was standing in a room (that wasn't really a room) where the only escape was a door which would guarantee him a face to face meeting with Emilie's father; basically, was a coffin.

A coffin that smelt of rubber and talcum powder, but still a coffin in the sense that it was a box meant for a dead man.

He could only hope that Emilie's dad was terrible at hide and seek.

	From: babalon	Date: January 16th, 2011 12:17 am (UTC)		(Link)

Emilie watched helplessly from the door. She briefly considered hexing him, but it was something akin to pulling a gun on her dad. Something about it didn't sit quite right with her.

"See?" She insisted, still trying to feign innocence. What else could she do? Admit to the strange boy in her closet? He wasn't her boyfriend, she had no real obligation, but there was no real guarantee how her dad would react and… she did sorta liked Ciaran enough to not want terrible things to happen to him. "Nobody here but me."

"Not done looking," Thomas responded gruffly, flipping the mattress over to check under the bed.

"Dad!" Emilie almost yelled. "There is nobody here. Can you stop fucking with my shit now?"

"Watch your mouth," Thomas snapped back, glancing back to his daughter only for a moment. Something on the floor next to her bed had caught his eye. "What's this?"

He reached down to the floor and picked up a thin, light wand. Completely the opposite coloring of Emilie's.

"It's a wand," Emilie replied as if he were retarded. "What does it look like?"

"It doesn't look like yours," Thomas smiled at her. He knew. He knew just like she knew.

"I have two."

"No, you don't." Thomas was chuckling now, pointing at Emilie like she had just told him a good joke. "It looks a bit longer than yours," He noted, holding it as if he were testing the balance of a sword. "He tall, then?"

Emilie opened her mouth to say something, shutting it immediately. How did he? …Her mother was filling him in on the wizard world, no doubt. She scowled. Of course she was telling him about wizards. It fucking figured. Twelve years of silence, and now she was telling him goddamn everything.

"Oh, so he is?" Thomas grinned, nodding before raising his voice just a little bit louder. "You can come out now, son."

	From: cantspell	Date: January 16th, 2011 12:57 am (UTC)		(Link)

Busted.

Even though he'd phrased it in a polite way, Ciaran was well aware that what Emilie's dad had actually meant was more along the lines of get out or I will drag you out.

And as much as he would've liked to stay as far away from Emilie's dad as possible, he knew that compliance was a far lesser evil than rebellion when it concerned a girl's dad.

Ciaran opened the closet door and stepped into Emilie's room again. He glanced briefly at Emilie...who was blonde now, before turning his attention to her father. "Hello...sir."

	From: babalon	Date: January 16th, 2011 11:19 pm (UTC)		(Link)

"Nice of you to finally join us," Her father replied, still grinning; though that grin seemed anything but friendly.

Emilie watched their interaction cautiously. "Dad, leave him alone."

"Now, Emilie. We're just talking." Thomas crossed the room, eyeing Ciaran as he got closer. The teenager had a few inches on him as far as height was concerned, but Thomas Devlin was not a small man. Older he may have been, but he wasn't frail.

"Thomas Devlin," He introduced himself, offering his free hand to shake. In the other, Ciaran's wand remained balled up in his fist like an unsheathed knife, the tip pointed at the ceiling.

"What's your name, son?"

	From: cantspell	Date: January 16th, 2011 11:41 pm (UTC)		(Link)

They were just talking, were they? Well that was news to Ciaran. He was sure he'd just been ordered out of a closet and was now being forced into conversation by a man looked like he'd much prefer to strangle Ciaran than have a little chat.

At least he had societal convention on his side. For now.

"Ciaran Stoyanov," he replied shaking the man's hand. Ciaran's eyes flicked across to Thomas' other hand. That...was his wand. His brow creased just slightly at the way the older man was holding it. That wasn't how a wizard gripped a wand, either his own or someone else's. Even if you wanted to hex someone into the ground, that was...that was all wrong.

Emilie's dad was a muggle then? Hopefully he woudln't damage it; muggles could be pretty hamfisted with magical items.

"I was looking for that," Ciaran said. "It must've fallen out of my pocket."

	From: babalon	Date: January 17th, 2011 12:57 am (UTC)		(Link)

"Oh this?" Thomas asked, holding the wand to the side to take a better look at it, though he only glanced at it for a moment.

"How rude of me." His smile dropped, and he made no move to return the wand to its rightful owner. " I suppose you'll be wanting it back then? ...But you see, Ciaran. I'm not so sure I can do that."

"Dad," Emilie protested again, but Thomas spoke over her.

"By coming into my home unannounced-- without my permission, you have disrespected me, you have disrespected my daughter, and you have broken the law. Why should I extend common courtesy when you refuse to do the same?"

	From: cantspell	Date: January 17th, 2011 01:48 am (UTC)		(Link)

Yeah, definitely a muggle. Ciaran shrugged his shoulders and looked down at the wand in Emilie's father's hand. "Accio."

The wand tremored and fought against the fingers wrapped around it, determined to return to its owner.

Handing it back would've been easier, but clearly that would've fucked with Mr Devlin's plans to go all Godfather on him, wouldn't it?

Fuck it, he wasn't taking shit like that.

"Emilie invited me in. I didn't disrespect her and I didn't disrespect you, but if people can only get into this place by your permission then maybe you shouldn't let your daughter have friends."

Ciaran tilted his chin up, looking down at Mr Devlin. "And I haven't broken the law."

	From: babalon	Date: January 17th, 2011 02:44 am (UTC)		(Link)

Thomas's eyes narrowed and his jaw set into a scowl that Emilie recognized as quite similar to her own.

As if things couldn't get any worse. Emilie realized she didn't know Ciaran well enough to know if he wasn't about to actually do something intensely stupid. She knew her dad well enough to know that, yes, he probably was. As soon as the wand touched Ciaran's hand, Emilie's own wand was drawn.

She hadn't even noticed the footsteps thundering down the hall before her mother's voice rang out from behind her.

"Just what the hell do you think you are all doing?" Samantha Devlin commanded from the doorway, her blonde hair whipping into her eyes from the momentum of the hallway run.

Fucking great, the queen bitch has arrived.

	From: cantspell	Date: January 17th, 2011 03:10 am (UTC)		(Link)

Ciaran turned to face the person who'd spoken and...woah. That was Emilie's mother?! She was...well...Ciaran's mother certainly didn't look like that. Not that he'd really want her to because that would be weird, but...fuck. She had to have been a teenager when she had Emilie; either that or she was aging really, really well.

He slipped his wand into his back pocket. Not ideal, but he could move it again later. The main objective was to not look like he was about to use magic on a muggle...which he wasn't...but maybe it didn't look that way to an outsider.

"I...think I was just leaving," Ciaran muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets.

	From: babalon	Date: January 17th, 2011 12:22 pm (UTC)		(Link)

"Thomas, have you been harassing Emilie's friends again?" Samantha asked, already knowing the answer. "You know you're not supposed to do that anymore. Especially after what happened last time."

It was by this point that Emilie had her face in her hands, wishing that for once in her life that God would strike her dead on the spot. There was a reason why she didn't bring people home usually-- and it had nothing to do with her family's social standing.

Thomas, meanwhile, was still glaring at Ciaran, not having moved a muscle aside from glancing back for a second as his wife made her grand entrance. He said nothing.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Emilie's mother scoffed at Ciaran's muttering. "I insist that you stay. I'm terribly sorry. Thomas has been so terribly protective over Emilie since the accident."

"Mom," Emilie grit a protest through her teeth, bringing her hands down just far enough to express her horror.

"What?" Samantha responded innocently, but mostly ignoring her daughter. As she normally did. "We were just about to sit down to breakfast and you are more than welcome to join us... I'm sorry, what was your name?"

	From: cantspell	Date: January 17th, 2011 05:45 pm (UTC)		(Link)

...after what happened last time? Was that just something they said to wind up Emilie's friends or were they being serious? Ciaran flicked his gaze onto Emilie who...was providing a visual suggestion that the answer to that question was the latter.

And then words were changed again, with 'last time' was upscaled to 'accident'. Considering that Emilie and her parents were all standing here looking rather healthy, Ciaran was going to assume what happened in the accident happened to someone else.

This just got better and better. Why...had she brought him here again?

And now it wasn't even like he could get out. Now he had to go into a different room and eat breakfast across from a man who had been glaring at him almost continuously for five minutes now. Maybe he shouldn't have answered him back after all.

"Thank you, Mrs Devlin" Ciaran replied, trying to sound as sincere as possible whilst Emilie's dad's stare burned holes into his neck. "Um...it's Ciaran."

He was really wishing that he could've been chased out of the house instead.

	From: babalon	Date: January 18th, 2011 01:16 am (UTC)		(Link)

"You are most welcome, Ciaran. Any friend of Emilie's is welcome in our home." Samantha smiled and slipped an arm around Thomas's. She tugged him toward the door, pleasant smile that contrasted her husband's scowl still firmly in place. "It'll just be a minute."

Emilie's jaw hurt from clenching it. They were so goddamn embarrassing; but at least nobody had been hurt, right? Her dad was practically on his best behavior. Mom? Well, she was as fake as ever. Emilie would probably get an earful later-- and this time she wouldn't have anyone on her side.

But for now? Apparently there was brunch! She watched them exit, listening to them in the hall for a minute as their voices faded.

"Fuck," She muttered, running her hands through her now-platinum locks. "I'm getting out of here. You coming?"

	From: cantspell	Date: January 18th, 2011 07:06 pm (UTC)		(Link)

Well at least the threat of being repeatedly hit in the face by a forty year old had disappeared for the time being.

Ciaran sighed in relief as Emilie's parents headed up the corridor and out of earshot. This wasn't exactly how he'd planned to start the New Year off.

He scruffed a hand through his hair and took his wand from his back pocket, shoving it down the side of his boot instead.

"Are you kidding?" Ciaran smirked, looking at Emilie. "Think I'll be leaving in a box if don't go now."

	From: babalon	Date: January 18th, 2011 09:29 pm (UTC)		(Link)

"Smooth by the way," Emilie laughed, looking snide. She had to laugh, otherwise she'd be just as ridiculous as her crazy-ass parents. Though it was probably too late for her on the crazy front.

"I thought you were dead for a minute there," she mused, slipping by him to grab something warm from the closet. Witch or not, there was still about three feet of snow outside. "Guess Mom made him get rid of his gun."

She slipped on a thick black hoodie with a complicated set of clasps on the front and stepped into some combat-looking boots that zipped themselves.

"They're probably using the upstairs dining room, but if we can slip past it, we can just walk right out the front door," Emilie shrugged. It sounded simple, but nothing in the Devlin house ever was.

	From: cantspell	Date: January 18th, 2011 09:49 pm (UTC)		(Link)

Yeah, I thought I was dead for a minute there too. He shrugged it off, concentrating instead on getting the front of his hair to not stick up in some ridiculous way. "Well I guess...his gun? Your dad had a gun?"

Ciaran started at Emilie as if she'd grown an extra head. An extra head wih bubblegum pink hair and great big anime eyes.

She did just say gun then, didn't she? No wonder they didn't want a repeat of 'the accident' that happened 'last time'...

Whilst he was mentally reeling from the idea that if not for some poor bastard before him he could have been leaving Emilie's penthouse mansion...thing in an ambulance, Emilie's words managed to slide right by him. Well, most of them. "Yeah, okay," he nodded. "...you have a dining room upstairs?"

	From: babalon	Date: January 18th, 2011 10:39 pm (UTC)		(Link)

"When I was fourteen, he shot my boyfriend Vince in the leg," Emilie replied casually, not even attempting to conceal her smirk. She did warn him. Even if it was only about sixty seconds before her dad forced his way into the room.

"Anyway, you read--" She sighed sharply. Of course. Of course he was going to ask. Only rich kids had two fucking kitchens, a yacht, and a summer house in the Hamptons. "Don't even get me started. You ready?"

	From: cantspell	Date: January 18th, 2011 11:52 pm (UTC)		(Link)

...right. So he just shot a dude...shot a kid in the leg with his gun that he probably doesn't have anymore. What a prince of a guy Emilie's dad was turning out to be. "Kinda glad he got rid of it..."

Ciaran picked up his jacket and pulled it on over his t-shirt. Thinking about it, maybe he should've taken a nice, fleecy hoodie with him instead of a jacket made of leather and full of metal studs. But then it hadn't been cold at the party, and he hadn't really expected to end up in New York with a goth being threatened on New Year's Day morning by her psycho dad.

He could just...pull it around him. It would be fine.

"Yeah. Ready. Where are we going?"

	From: babalon	Date: January 19th, 2011 02:55 pm (UTC)		(Link)

Emilie's smirk was back in no time at all. Her eyes lingered over the jacket, and for a moment her mind was somewhere else.

"There's a diner not far from here," she replied, sounding dreamy. Her blue eyes flicked back up to Ciaran's face and her smirk broadened. Poor fuck was going to freeze to death. She imagined teeth chattering would somewhat ruin his image.

There wasn't time to worry about it, her parents would eventually notice they were taking forever and come looking for them. She peered around the door and found the hallway empty.

"Let's go."

	From: cantspell	Date: January 19th, 2011 04:16 pm (UTC)		(Link)

Ciaran's mind was also wandering, but not in the same direction as Emilie's. As he fixed the back of his collar he thought about the breakfast he hadn't had yet. Upstairs Emilie's parents were sitting down to know knew what? Hash browns and bacon and eggs and pancakes, three rounds of toast, waffles, sausages and fried tomatoes. Maybe it wasn't, but considering the state of their house (two dining rooms, what the fuck?!) they probably didn't skimp on the most important meal of the day.

Emilie's reply dragged him out of his thoughts. She sounded a bit...distracted. Ciaran turne to look at her. "Oh, okay." Well, she seemed fine now. Nevermind?

He followed her to the door and, once she'd checked that the coast was clear, into he hallway. Ciaran tried not to take in too much of the ridiculous opulence as they moved down the hall and kept his eyes fixed on Emilie's back.

This place was insane.

	From: babalon	Date: January 20th, 2011 12:42 am (UTC)		(Link)

Emilie walked down the hall as quietly as she could. Slow, even steps were the key. Truth be told, it wasn't that difficult, the carpeting in the hallway was plush. As they neared the kitchen, she stopped, glanced behind her to check where Ciaran was, and peered into the doorway briefly. They'd have to pass the open door to get to the exit, and she didn't want to catch anyone's attention.

Her mother and the live-in maid were at the far end of the kitchen, looking away. Turning toward Ciaran with a finger to her lips, she nodded toward the kitchen door. She then pointed in the general direction of the front door, and signaled for him to follow her.

Kitchen passed. Everything was fine. She turned the corner, only a couple of yards from the front door. It was easy, really. Or she thought it was easy.

Farther down the hallway, past the front door, her father was just exiting the bedroom he shared with her mother. He looked suspicious already and they weren't even at the door yet. Could have been their coats. "Where are you going?"

	From: cantspell	Date: January 25th, 2011 07:11 pm (UTC)		(Link)

So near and yet so far. If there was such a thing as fate, then it was clearly set against them getting out of Emilie's home (could you really call this place a home?) before enduring the most awkward breakfast in history.

Or maybe it was just set against Ciaran leaving any other way than feet first?

He weighed up his options quickly. On one hand, Mr Devlin was already not a fan and so pissing him off with a lie didn't seem like the best idea. On the other, this guy already hated him for doing bad, bad, and very illegal things with his daughter, so aside from bending Emilie over the nearest chaise longue and having his wicked way with her again, what could Ciaran possibly do to to make things worse for himself?

"I was going for a smoke," he replied. "Emilie said she'd come with me to find somewhere that was open. I'm not from around here, so..."

	From: babalon	Date: January 28th, 2011 11:16 pm (UTC)		(Link)

"You smoke?" Emilie's dad frowned a little bit further. Unlike Ciaran, Emilie was still only 17-- not old enough to smoke cigarettes in New York State-- and not old enough ever to smoke, according to her father.

"How old are you?" But before he hand even finished the question, Emilie was already butting in.

"He's eighteen, Dad. Jesus. Ease up, would you?" She actually didn't know that for sure but it couldn't hurt, could it?

Well no more than... everything else that had happened this morning.

Thomas frowned at her, but nodded a little after a few moments. "Okay, but breakfast is ready soon." And with that he trudged off to the kitchen.

They really were home free.

Emilie smirked at Ciaran a bit, entirely too pleased with herself, despite the fact that it was his excuse that had gotten them this far.

"C'mon."

	From: cantspell	Date: February 1st, 2011 06:38 pm (UTC)		(Link)

That felt far too easy. Why did it feel too easy? Fuck it, no, they were out and that was all that mattered. He didn't have to have breakfast with the Hiltons or answer their questions or get a third degree burn from the glare Emilie's dad seemed to enjoy throwing his way.

In other words, now was not the time to look this gift horse in the mouth.

Out of the door and into the elevator...which you needed a key to operate, by the looks of things. Rich people were unbelievable. Ciaran shook his head a little and rested his back against the wall. The sooner they were out of this building, the better.

"Nice hair, by the way."