<div class="floatleft">(http://images.fashionnstyle.com/data/images/full/91629/charlie-hunnam-19-jpg.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Stephen Landry<br/><strong>Status:</strong>Guest<br/><strong>Date | Time:</strong>August 1st, 11:30ish<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Room 5<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>White dress shirt, left open, tank top underneath, jeans,<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Stephanie Landry<strong>Mentioned:</strong>N/A<br/><strong>Content Warning:</strong>Getting there...<hr/>He watched her eyes, wondering if the barrage of emotions crossing her face were actually there or if he was just seeing things. He wouldn't have doubted the latter, considering the state of mind that he was in right now. Projecting emotions was easy to do in his state of mind, apparently. But the way her eyes turned when he stood, after asking his question and before she answered it wasn't something that could be blamed on his state of mind.<br/><br/>"Hey," He growled, quickly grabbing a pillow off the bed to cover himself. There was no need to do so, not really. She'd seen it already, what more could be done? Still though, a lingering sense of, well, decency was still dragging at him as he stepped closer to her as she explained it, what shame and embarrassment that could ave been read on her face as she owned up to what she did, even going so far as to tilt her chin up at him, challenging him to give her a reason why she shouldn't. And she was right, in part anyways. So long as she did what she wanted, how she wanted, and had nobody standing over her with ulterior motives, she could do what she liked. She was a consenting adult and being paid for doing something that she enjoyed. What right did he had to tell her to stop? And even if he did, she didn't really need to comply.<br/><br/>There was still the issue. He'd never asked why the guy that had attacked her years before had done what he had done. She'd asked him to leave it alone, and he had, respecting her privacy, putting it to bed in his mind as being a spurned ex-boyfriend or a one-night-stand or something like that. As inappropriate as it felt to think of her as anything but his baby sister, she was, in fact, a grown woman.<br/><br/>He'd stepped closer as his mind was racing, keeping that pillow firmly in place as his free hand settled on her hip, his thumb idly running over the her shirt under which he knew the scar was, "I... You're right. You're a grown woman, and you can do as you please. As your brother, I should be supporting your decisions. It's... just a lot to take in," He suddenly realized how close he was to her, and considering the thoughts that had been crossing his mind not a minute previous, he took a step back, clearing his throat and looking away.