[ It is quite literally freezing and he's walking around in pants. Emma, quite the opposite, is in thermal sushi pajamas. Quite the pair they make.
He manages to look entirely comfortable and nonchalant. She does not. Cannot. She's got his junk right in front of her and they're supposed to be family.
"Family."
Her mouth has run dry and her eyes are pointedly trying not to look as she bends to pick up the bottle and shuffle toward the water dispenser. Her dad had developed this weird thing about plastic water and the chemicals leeching into them and how premade bottled water is ruining the planet, so those were not allowed on the premises.
The look she sends him is one both confused and irritated to be asked something so obvious and so early to boot. Color is still high on her cheeks. ]
Is that a question you want me to answer? [ Excuse her, she has a massive headache. ]
It's a question I asked you. [Jamie says blithely. He didn't actually care about the answer, but her attitude about it makes him double-down. He takes a long sip of his coffee, while also drinking her in. Like he knows something she doesn't.]
I didn't think rich girls knew how to have a proper party. [He raises his mug at her.]
[ She doesn't know if he intends that as a compliment. She assumes it to be the backhanded compliment it sounds like, which predictably makes her prickle.
It's her home, it's the holiday, and now she's forced to endure being insulted?
In the process of finding something to help with her headache, she's turned away. So he can't see the sour look that crosses her features. She rearranges it into something perfectly friendly when she rounds back. Too friendly. ]
Thank you. I'll be honest, I wasn't aware you were a fan of the ballet. [ She tilts her head at him, brow furrowed, as if genuinely curious. ] How many times have you attended the concert? Swan Lake? Do you have a favorite act? Or ... perhaps you're more familiar with the Nutcracker?
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sundown2025-09-27 02:37 am
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He manages to look entirely comfortable and nonchalant. She does not. Cannot. She's got his junk right in front of her and they're supposed to be family.
"Family."
Her mouth has run dry and her eyes are pointedly trying not to look as she bends to pick up the bottle and shuffle toward the water dispenser. Her dad had developed this weird thing about plastic water and the chemicals leeching into them and how premade bottled water is ruining the planet, so those were not allowed on the premises.
The look she sends him is one both confused and irritated to be asked something so obvious and so early to boot. Color is still high on her cheeks. ]
Is that a question you want me to answer? [ Excuse her, she has a massive headache. ]
no subject
I didn't think rich girls knew how to have a proper party. [He raises his mug at her.]
Colour me impressed.
no subject
It's her home, it's the holiday, and now she's forced to endure being insulted?
In the process of finding something to help with her headache, she's turned away. So he can't see the sour look that crosses her features. She rearranges it into something perfectly friendly when she rounds back. Too friendly. ]
Thank you. I'll be honest, I wasn't aware you were a fan of the ballet. [ She tilts her head at him, brow furrowed, as if genuinely curious. ] How many times have you attended the concert? Swan Lake? Do you have a favorite act? Or ... perhaps you're more familiar with the Nutcracker?