<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/e/e9/Jeffrey-Dean-Morgan6.jpg/441px-Jeffrey-Dean-Morgan6.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Greg Eames<br/><strong>Time &amp; Location:</strong>Evening | Eames residence<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Taegan<br/><strong>Dressed:</strong>Leather bomber jacket, silk shirt, slacks, boots<br/><strong>Content:</strong>At the Eames residence party<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Greg let her prattle, simply giving her the up and down, after he turned the lights on.  He was sure there were some down in the backyard or nearby that could have seen them both.  He took another sip, leisurely.<em>Well</em>.  If this girl wasn't an eye-full and then some.  Oh, it was more than her body, which seemed to push his buttons in all the right ways, anyway.  She was missing that troublesome thing called<em>modesty</em>, it seemed...that<em>fuck-the-world</em>attitude was clearly apparent.<br/><br/>"It's my place."  The reply came a good ten seconds after she'd stopped speaking.  Sitting on his bed, just so god-damned nonchalant about it all, not to mentioned dressed the part of both a homewrecker and a high school tease, he could read the danger just oozing out of every one of her pretty pores.  "And I don't bother much with hiding anything."  Another sip.  "Not my style."<br/><br/>He watched her legs scissoring back and forth for a few seconds more.<br/><br/>"Looks like the most interesting thing in this room, though, is sitting right on my bed."  He took the last sip of scotch, then set the tumbler on a dresser next to him, and crossed his arms.  "Doesn't look too hidden, though.  Kinda out in the open."