"Of course not," he agreed blithely, turning to whisk them through the airport and back out to the waiting car outside. "But lucky for me I had a free evening, and lucky for you I enjoy seeing to the welfare of dedicated maneaters." Desmond, as always, was in constant motion. With Lust secured by his side he set their pace through the terminal -- brisk without over-extending the Sin in heels -- his free hand gesticulating airily the whole time. Whether it was because he was showy by nature or he just realized it'd clear some room around them, it hardly mattered.
"I'm sorry that your trip wasn't a laugh a minute, sweetheart," he said and almost meant it. They breezed past the security line and past check-in counters. Mortals paused to step out of their way, a fun little parlor trick which could have been due to them sensing something superior in the vicinity, or just the fact that two incredibly good-looking people were striding purposefully across the floor. "Of course, that just means you'll have to make up for Western disappointments here in the city before you head back out again." His free hand reached over to squeeze the one she had looped through his opposite arm, a playful smirk lighting Divorce's face.
He disentangled himself from Lust with a measure of reluctance, shepherding her through JFK's exit doors and to the sidewalk outside. His car -- and the driver really did deserve one helluva tip for managing to keep out there with the motor running and no security interference -- was waiting almost directly in front of them. "Come on, then. Let's see you home."