<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>anyone in attendance<br/><strong>Dressed:</strong>Leather bomber jacket, silk shirt, slacks, boots<br/><strong>Content:</strong>At the Eames residence party/clusterfuck<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Yvonne's tagging along and her comments gave Greg pause.  She'd always been a looker, and with her career, it sort of made sense for her to want to hang with a younger crowd...but the offhand comments about James were interesting.  "Yeah, this won't be that big a deal.  Kids being kids.  Probably time to enjoy the festivities, if you want...I'm not the one complaining.  Feel free, Yvonne."<br/><br/>Working up through his driveway, he had to smile to himself.  Most of the kids he saw he had no recollection of ever meeting, or if he had, they'd probably been a lot younger then.  He did catch a glimpse of Gavin's nephew Terry, but he was further off in the mix.  With what he knew of the young man, he hadn't pegged him for this kind of partier, but the look on his face gave Greg the impression that he wasn't very interested.<br/><br/>Still, there was a host of enticing young women in attendance.  In fact, as he moved into his home, he saw a quartet of very attractive Korean girls...in an apparent<em>tete-a-tete</em>with Yvonne, among others.  That was when he finally spotted Shane...and saw the look on his face as he gazed over at James' wife.<em>Oh, my</em>, he sighed, feeling all kinds of fatherly sympathy for his nearly-grown kid.  Well, he was 18, after all...but god, that was a big chunk to bite off a t-bone.  Coming up behind his progeny, he wrapped an arm around his beefy shoulder, patting him heartily.  "That good, huh?  I admit, she's got good structure, and that rack was built about as well as a plastic surgeon can make 'em.  But keep in mind she's the association president's wife, Shane."  He paused a moment.  "Not that I wouldn't love to see an Eames stick it to a St. Clair--in one way or another..."  He mused a moment, then shook his head.<br/><br/>"I'm gonna get on the PA and get this ruckus more under control.  Don't sweat the small stuff, kid.  It could have been a lot worse...but..."  He looked Shane in the eyes, raising an eyebrow.  "Right across the street from the HOA meeting tonight?  That audible kinda sucked, didn't it?"  He gave Shane a fatherly punch in the shoulder, winking.  "I don't mind taking a hit on fines, if it means my son gets to dip his wick in some prime rib.  Just keep your head above water, and...don't do anyone I wouldn't do."<br/><br/>He walked past the kitchen, to the adjoining stair, and moved up to the second floor bar, where the controls for the estate's sound system were located.  Powering it up, he picked up the mic and looked down at the assembly over the interior balcony.  His entire home was wired with a quality sound system in every room, and his solid and resonant voice was carried everywhere on the property.<br/><br/>"This is Greg Eames, owner of the house you are currently enjoying yourselves in.  Don't worry, I'm not cancelling your fun.  Just a warning to keep the noise down.  Old Mr. Elect-Me-Please's home is right across the way, and likely a shit-ton of your own parents, so there's fair warning.  If the cops show up, I'll probably know most of them, and you won't.  Now go ahead and enjoy the rest of the night."<br/><br/>Flicking off the power and laying the mic back in its holder, he looked at the bottle of scotch in his hands.  Dewar's was decent stuff.  He pulled a tumbler and dropped a few ice cubes in it, pouring off a few fingers.  What he needed, before he really looked over the crowd, was a change of clothes.  He hadn't really taken a break since Arizona, and he wasn't his son's age anymore.  Taking a leisurely sip of his scotch, he headed towards his bedroom.<br/><br/>It seemed the party hadn't really penetrated this far into his house, which was a good thing, and he was considering just what to wear as he came through the door of his bedroom--and saw a female figure crouched by one of his closets, apparently rummaging for...something.  He leaned up against the wall, taking another sip of his drink, and crossed his feet.<br/><br/>"Thief...admirer...or just curious?  Or," and here he waved the tumbler in the interloper's direction, "do you have a serious gossip bug up your ass?"  He took another sip, casually and without any apparent hostility.  "'cause most of the action is going on downstairs or across the street...if you're into that kind of thing."  He hadn't had a good look at her in the dim area, and he hit the switch, filling the room with light.