Emilia nodded; she knew of Olivier Moreau from Tate, though she had never met him or really watched the show. Then she shrugged. “Well, maybe he was busy filming and she asked you to go as a friend,” she chuckled. Tate showing up at the hotel like he had was an amazingly welcome and astounding surprise, but when she gave it just a brief moment of thought, far more reasons for him to be there than she could have thought of herself, popped up, and each of them made good sense to her.
She watched him as he looked around the room, her smile growing the more he spoke, until she was smiling up at him when he turned enough for their eyes to meet. Languidly, she draped her arms around his neck, one at a time. “I have to admit,” She hummed, “that phone sex with you while I was here would have been amazing.” She pressed closer to him, rising up on her toes to brush her lips against his. “This is infinitely better.”