Re: Wainright Manor: Hunter R & Damian W
Damian's temperament might have lined up with the very rich, but more than that, it was the way of the entitled. Entitlement just happened to overlap quite a bit with obscene wealth. The man wouldn't know it for what it was, as he had been born into it. He had been bred for it, actually. (He didn't know what to make of nature vs. nurture, and that was likely telling.) Hunter wasn't too far off, even if his cousin would've been irritated at the thought of the other man as allowing him to behave as he did.
Barbara was not a faceless lover. She was not even a lover. Certainly, there was desire there—believed with absolute surety to exist on both sides. But, in many ways the youngest Wainright heir (Hunter was not an heir, for the record,) was quiet young and inexperienced. He couldn't articulate whatever it was inside of him that fumed eager around the redheaded woman he spent much of his time with. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to articulate it. It was bound to be quite confusing, and that would make it difficult to being as knowing as he liked to think he was.—As it was, he would have been offended regardless at the assumption on Hunter's behalf, had he known it. But, he did not, and he was not aware of the implications of cohabiting with non-relatives. All he knew was the other man was obviously unhappy about the beef stew going to Barbara, but Damian decided not to care. It was a gift, and, once given, it was no longer his.
He laughed at the blunt comment, condescending without intention to be so. He rolled his eyes at the 'I can get my own,' and that was intentional. "You have no idea to whom I offer what." With a long, level, cold look, Damian pushed off of his prop and reached for the bag with the offering. He opened the fridge and placed it in the large, cavernous space, the cold reaching out slowly. He pulled a cigarette out from the newly-opened packet in his pocket, and he lit it. He did not ask for permission. Why would he need to? It was his home. "I did not think you had. You have a complex about that." Damian took a drag, his gaze unblinking on Hunter. "You're family. I thought it was understood, acceptable behavior." There was only the slightest hint of uncertainty in clipped, practiced tone. It was forced out by query. "Who is your other family around here?"