"Yeah, there's a reason for that," Emerson snickered. "That was probably her booze, not mine. She hides it because it's her very favorite thing aside from awkwardly form-fitting, animal-print spandex." Emerson waved a hand dismissively. "I mean, I guess it's technically mine since I bought it for her, but don't tell her that or you'll end up with laxatives in your next dinner."
Finished with his drink now, the witch fished a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his blazer, tossing them to Lucien. "Go ahead. Break 'em all. I want you to know I'm serious about this." He was probably going to shed a tear later.