Ian looked at the phone blankly for a moment before taking it and entering his number. "Are you just going to follow me out?" he asked flatly, offering Emmeline's phone back to her. He saw something in her features that made him reminiscent of the look that everyone has when they want to go 'um, about that.' It was tempting to just walk around her, leave the theater and not think about the assignment again. Instead he dug his keys out of his pocket, considered it a second, and then resigned to his fate. "Do you need a ride?"<br/>------------------------<br/>The Baird household was modest for what they could afford. Large and white and well-kept, but still modest. There were no decorations, very humble outdoor furniture, and a simple electric fence for the dogs because anything bigger or elaborate would have been too gaudy for his mother's tastes. Michelle was long gone, and had been for a number of years now, but his dad just didn't care enough to change things. If Ian or Abby ever wanted to change something about the house, they definitely could, they just couldn't rely on their father to help them or pay for it. He had better things to spend his paychecks on, like guilt-presents and alcohol.<br/><br/>"Well, this is it," he said, turning the key in the ignition and feeling his car go still beneath him. He didn't want to be here. In general, but particularly now. Ian was a simple man, and liked to keep his house, work and school completely separate entities as they should be. Intermingling just seemed sacrilegious; even Darren hadn't been to his house yet, mostly because Darren was too busy being brilliant and getting high but even still. And that aside, there was just something foreign about bringing a prostitute to your house. To each their own; Ian had never seen anything wrong with soliciting, and he'd heard arguments that it was actually pretty empowering. But just the idea that he technically picked up a prostitute and brought her home was pretty novel.