<div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#99ffff">Maeve felt her concern hike like a mountain climber when Evie appeared easily as complexed, if not <i>more</i> than herself. Suddenly the room felt almost too warm to bear, and her clothes offered too much heat. She felt suffocated; it was like nuclear sirens for imminent doom had gone off in her head. To be fair, the woman had a hefty load of anxiety issues stemming from past experiences, so perhaps it there was a chance of it being a mere fluke. A spike in unreasonable apprehension.<br/>
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Her mother seemed misty-eyed. At least it seemed so from her hazy side-eyed view, making Lockhart feel as though she were about to be taken out back and shot like a crippled horse. Evie interrogated all of the questions she herself insisted upon internally, still remaining uncharacteristically speechless.<br/>
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They were told to lead themselves out of the humble coffee shop, throwing Evangeline into a fit of intolerance that gained the glower of scattered coffee consumers nearby. Who were these guys? Why did they look almost hungry in the eyes? They were reminiscent of hyenas over the flailing torso of a fallen gazelle.<br/>
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Casting a glimpse over her shoulder just as she rose to her feet, Maeve wrinkled her brows closer together with puzzlement at sight of a lengthened black vehicle. "<b>Wondering if there's an off chance our parents decided we were movie star material..</b>" Lockhart muttered sardonically beside Evie as they strode out of the doors. All thoughts aside, these guys were pretty handsome. Maybe they were somehow connected to the entertainment industry as well? Actors she had yet to recognize? Models? Hell, famous table tennis players?<br/>
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A driver pulled open the limousine door for the girls, striking Maeve as foreign. She'd never been treated with any sort of special care beyond the facade her parents would cast upon her for the public. A quick scan of the horizon showed no visible media leeches. The two men exchanged a hieroglyphic look just before the one in the darker suit spoke up. His explanation had her nearly choking on her own saliva.<br/>
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Waiting patiently for a whole of two seconds to see if there was a 'sike' to be heard, Maeve crossed her arms. "<b>I'm sorry, but that's not a thing. I can't believe I have to even... Say that? I'm 24, she's 23. We're not even minors under their legal care. The hell do you think is going on here? You Russian or something? New in America? We've got laws.</b>" She spat with opposition, attempting to sound brave even though subconsciously she herded herself closer to Evangeline.<br/>
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•••<br/>
</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#99ff99">It became dauntingly obvious that these women wouldn't comply by their own volition. It was honestly to be expected. He huffed an exasperated sigh at the mint-haired femme throwing her tantrum, her patronizing words falling upon deaf and uninterested ears. He knew that there were laws. He knew what was and was not on the 'up and up'. But who gave a shit? Not Atlas.<br/>
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Honestly, he understood how this situation would be confusing. Scary, even. And despite the fact that this somehow excited him, he still tried to be reasonable. At least, by his definition of it.<br/>
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"<b>Don't stress yourself. It's not what you think.</b>" He grinned warmly, knowing all too well it was exactly what they thought. Maybe it was the way Thomas the driver was glaring at them. The way all of them were. Maybe it was the finalized tone hanging off the end of his sentence. Maybe it was blind fear in hopes of something good to come from conformity. But Maeve took a look at the limousine and nearly resembled that she would step into it. The thought died young, however, when she clutched Evangeline's wrist and broke for a run, trying to go who knew where.<br/>
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Atlas barely had time to groan as he thrust himself toward her, his height far towering beyond her, and his weight massively offering an advantage in his favor. She screamed like a banshee, which Badwinds didn't stand for. She was abruptly yanked into the car and forced against a seat in the back end of the vehicle. Profanities spilled from her mouth as she thrashed to get away, and Atlas fought the urge to smack her. She wasn't his. It wasn't up to him to do so. "<b>Get her in the car.</b>" He ordered over to Ben, growing instantly impatient.</span></span>​</div>