Death of the Party ↠ Hemlock Grove ✓

09 ; the godfrey castle

With her heeled booties clacking against the ground, Eden caught up with Roman. She linked her arm with his, a familiar gesture that he didn't even bat an eye at.

Even if Roman was still slightly cross with her after she had neglected to meet him after the gala. A feat Eden didn't really understand but wasn't curious enough to investigate further.

"Hey," Eden hissed, whispering slightly as she tried to work her legs faster to keep up with Roman's longer strides. "I thought we were going to wait until they left?"

"Sometimes we have to live life a little bit on the wild side," Roman replied, jerking his head to the side slightly to give her one of his famous smirks.

Rolling her eyes, Eden watched as Peter finally caught up with them on the side of Lisa Willoughby's house. A side-door greeted them, and Roman didn't waste a moment before knocking loudly.

"You assholes. What the fuck?" Peter snapped, advancing on both of them.

An older man answered the door. His glasses were clean-cut, giving his face a more angular appearance. His grey sweater-vest looked like it was a pure-blend, and matched his leather shoes. Eden rolled her eyes at the outfit, disgusted by the lack of patterns and color.

"Can I help you?" He asked, voice reminding Eden of a smoker.

"Mr. Willoughby, we're here about Lisa." Roman greeted bluntly.

Shaking his head, Mr. Willoughby sighed. "This isn't a good time."

With his voice insisting, Roman stated. "Mr. Willoughby, you're exhausted."

Eden watched as the man held Roman's gaze, eyelids twitching ever so slightly as they remained in eye-contact with one another.

"You should really take a nap." Roman suggested, voice alluring and gentle.

At once, Mr. Willoughby moved back into his house, curling down onto the tiny platform of stairs that were beside his side door. His eyelids slipped shut and Eden stared in disbelief at the older man. No matter how many times she saw Roman do that, she never truly could get used to it.

"In case you were wondering, cops call this shit breaking and entering." Peter snarked, both him and Eden stepping into the Willoughby home after Roman. Who was bending down, waving a hand in front of Mr. Willoughby's unconscious face to test his work.

"Was it ever going to be anything else?" Roman replied, turning towards their gypsy friend.

"I'm just saying that there's the right way and there's the fucked way. Don't ever do it that way again." Was Peter's proper reply, his hand closing the door behind himself.

"You're a fucked way," Roman replied petulantly, long legs leading him up the stairs.

Snorting, Peter replied back, "Yeah, whatever."

"You both are three year olds." Eden inputted fondly, climbing the stairs herself.

The three of them stepped into the white cabinet clad kitchen. Eden gasped softly, her heels clicking faintly as she studied the vintage design.

It was a simple kitchen, however, it must've cost more than Eden's entire home. She hadn't ever seen such a clean kitchen before.

Roman and Peter were watching their friend with small smiles on their faces. While Peter wasn't any better than Eden when it came to foo-foo rich people homes, he was better at disguising his awe than she was.

Eden simply didn't care. If she was awed by something, she didn't try to hide it.

Amongst her awe, Roman was wiping his nose with a napkin. Blood stained the white cloth, and Peter beat Eden to the question that was on the tip of her tongue. "Does that hurt?"