#elias8

Orlaith knew she shouldn't multitask when making popcorn, prone as she was to burning it. Prone was an understatement; she could count on one hand alone the number of times she hadn't burnt it. And yet she hadn't learnt her lesson, still thinking she was invincible when she made it— a second to go and grab this, a moment to go and do that. She had just deposited a beer each on the coffee table, setting them beside the bowls of other snacks she'd put out, when she caught the unmistakeable and familiar scent of burning popcorn.

"Oh for fuck's sake," she groaned, rushing over to take it off the heat, but it was too late. The whole lot was ruined. Orlaith moved the blackened pan into the sink. "That was my last bag too." But then she was waving a hand as if to clear the whole thing away, head shaking from side to side. "Oh well, we've got plenty else to eat." That should have been Elias's first clue. "I have something to tell you." Just holding it in for this long had been agony; she was practically bursting.

Adrien had done all he could for his friend since he’d arrived, from giving him space if he desired it to sticking right by his side, but he couldn’t think of much more to do at this point. The storms outside were only getting worse, and there was no way in hell he was letting Elias go back home in that. He’d fight him, if it came down to it.

Asmodeus had been out the entire night, only returning a few hours before dawn. Prior to returning to bed, he entered the shower, using the time to clear his mind. It had been less time than usual away from the house, for Tartarus was beginning to bore him ( or rather, the people were ), but he couldn't leave the island. There were still things here that Hnikarr wished to do, and he knew the boy would throw a fit if he were taken away.