[ embry has always been a little pathetic about homes, in that he makes them around people instead of places. his condo is as impersonal as it can possibly be for having an actual person living in it, and vivienne moore's lake house is just that — vivienne moore's. it's not embry's, even though he'll probably inherit at least part of it alongside morgan. he can find peace there when his mother isn't around, even if he's still woefully attached to her, but when it comes to where he considers truly home — there isn't anywhere. morgan's place, sometimes, when she isn't being a reptilian bitch. there was ash for a while, and an achingly sweet dream of a countryside cabin. now, he's substituted hawk's office for the empty space in his life, returning to it after a brief bout of insanity where he thought greer might've been the place for him instead.
headlines. yeah. embry reads the news about himself despite his best efforts not to, but it's a bad habit once he's reached his fifth glass of gin. ]
Just performing for my two demanding bosses. Mother dearest, and you. [ he doesn't like the sudden look that hawk is giving him, like he's reading him like the pages of a flimsy book — a trashy beach read that he'll discard before he reaches the end. ] Hope the show's kept you entertained.
[ he expected such a contract from his mother, but it'd stung when hawk cosigned it the same day it'd crossed his desk, delivered by greer herself so hawk could have a good look at her. it's just business is what he keeps reminding himself, especially each time he goes rooting through hawk's belongings or lingers overlong just to catch a glimpse of the moment hawk slides the sheaf of papers from his briefcase to get to work. he has a few unreleased script names, but doesn't know if they'll be enough, and keeps dragging his feet on sending anything concrete to his asshole of a stalker.
with his glass refilled, he lowers his feet from hawk's desk and stands, snagging his glass to come around to the familiar couch. it's closer to the armchair hawk currently occupies, and embry drops down onto the soft leather cushions, settling on his stomach and making a show of stretching his spine. ]
Do I need a reason to come see you now? You never asked before. [ he props his forearms on the armrest, leaning over slightly to watch hawk eat. his eyes fall onto the steak, then back up. ] Are you gonna tell Vivienne that I ditched Greer for a night? She doesn't like when I have free time. She doesn't trust my idle hands.
no subject
headlines. yeah. embry reads the news about himself despite his best efforts not to, but it's a bad habit once he's reached his fifth glass of gin. ]
Just performing for my two demanding bosses. Mother dearest, and you. [ he doesn't like the sudden look that hawk is giving him, like he's reading him like the pages of a flimsy book — a trashy beach read that he'll discard before he reaches the end. ] Hope the show's kept you entertained.
[ he expected such a contract from his mother, but it'd stung when hawk cosigned it the same day it'd crossed his desk, delivered by greer herself so hawk could have a good look at her. it's just business is what he keeps reminding himself, especially each time he goes rooting through hawk's belongings or lingers overlong just to catch a glimpse of the moment hawk slides the sheaf of papers from his briefcase to get to work. he has a few unreleased script names, but doesn't know if they'll be enough, and keeps dragging his feet on sending anything concrete to his asshole of a stalker.
with his glass refilled, he lowers his feet from hawk's desk and stands, snagging his glass to come around to the familiar couch. it's closer to the armchair hawk currently occupies, and embry drops down onto the soft leather cushions, settling on his stomach and making a show of stretching his spine. ]
Do I need a reason to come see you now? You never asked before. [ he props his forearms on the armrest, leaning over slightly to watch hawk eat. his eyes fall onto the steak, then back up. ] Are you gonna tell Vivienne that I ditched Greer for a night? She doesn't like when I have free time. She doesn't trust my idle hands.