<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 | St. Clair Residence<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Tommy, and anyone annoyed, aggravated, amused or aroused by Mr. Eames<br/><strong>Dressed:</strong>Leather bomber jacket, silk shirt, slacks, boots<br/><strong>Content:</strong>At the HOA meeting<br/><br/><hr/><br/><em>Ah, James.  He was certainly eager to express the veneer of leadership, wasn't he?</em>"No, I've got it," Greg replied smoothly with a genial grin.  "I think you have your hands full right here, Mr.<em>President</em>."<br/><br/>He stood up, reaching over and patting Tommy on the shoulder.  "Let me know how things go later, okay?"  He looked at Kate, Callista, and Violet, giving them a wink.  "Enjoy yourselves, ladies."<br/><br/>Working his way past the people to the end of the row, he couldn't help but walk past Alexandra, giving her shoulder a small pat--and a tiny squeeze at the end, too.  "Good to see you, Alex," he offered as he passed, then turned to the door.  As he was approaching it, however, who but Gavin Brightman stood before it--and with a bottle of Dewar's scotch in his hand.  "Sorry, off to check on things at my place," Greg noted.  "Keep my seat warm--just behind Tommy."<br/><br/>Gavin just patted him on the back and handed him the bottle.  "Cheers, mate."<br/><br/>Exiting the St. Clair home and looking across the way, Greg nodded his head.  Yep.  Shane was getting things in full swing, it seemed.  He wondered if things were out of control, or if his son was keeping things on a fairly even keel.  Well, he'd find out soon enough.<br/>