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."