"White picket," Ian repeated, craning his neck down so he could properly see his house through the windshield. That was one term for it, he supposed. It was large and unwieldy, and in Ian's opinion unnecessary. It wasn't that he disliked living in large houses - in fact, he'd been pampered and spoiled to the thought of them. However, once Michelle left, most of the rooms became abandoned. Her old sewing room sat empty and gathering dust, the bedroom she took after she stopped sleeping with his dad was largely left to the dogs, her office had been turned into a library of things that the other occupants of the house had already read and forgotten about. Too many rooms, not enough things to fill them with. Oh, the woes of being rich and aloof.<br/><br/>"Well," he started after a moment, pocketing his keys as he exited the car. "I don't think my sister will be joining us. Pizza is fine." She'd started walking without him, pausing at his front door. He almost expected her to open it and make herself welcome.<span style="font-style: italic">Yes, Ms. Shae, please just let yourself in my home,</span>he thought bitterly, striding past her and unlocking the door. He pushed it open and kicked off his shoes at the front door. Pausing in the doorway, Ian scanned the living room for any signs that Abby was home, stepping aside and letting Emmeline in only when he was sure she wasn't around.<br/><br/>Ian deposited his bag on one of the two plush, beige recliners and stretched himself languidly across the long stretch of couch. "So, pizza," he reiterated, tucking his arms under his head. "I don't like a lot of vegetables, so keep that to a minimum if you don't mind."