[ embry isn't above making a scene, but his high has been so thoroughly squashed that it would just be embarrassing: two grown men at the height of public office having a big queer argument in the middle of someone's expensive lawn. well, just one, really, because ash is above that, and would probably drag him into the bushes and spank him until his ass was raw — which isn't the worst outcome he can think of. it's certainly not worse than talking to him.

he tugs sharply to free his wrist, intending to walk away, but ash doesn't let go. great. his pride is dead with that little move. ]

Let go of me. [ he hisses, keeping his voice low, but he both tenses and stills when ash circles him like they're still on the chess board, moving his pieces with damning finality. what the fuck? ] Do you even know where we are? All I need is a goddamn teddy bear. Too bad Morgan's not here because then we could really be the Marchmains.

[ he may not know the exact location, but he knows a vibe when he sees one. they're stuck in his worst nightmare, a closed-off, opulent estate where things can only go wrong from here on out. there's only so far he can run from ash here, and only so much he can take of seeing ash and greer being perfect together, and only so many spots he can hide to wallow in the misery of knowing he will always fuck up his side of their unholy trinity. ]

You don't really need my help. [ he's back to sulking, pointing back at the house. ] You really think she's gonna be out here partaking in this bullshit? She's probably inside. And for the record, I don't have any responsibilities.

[ except for what ash tells him to do, and then everything he volunteers to do for ash, which basically covers every single ash-related thing ever. ]