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."