As soon as Layla entered the perfect environment he'd built for them it fell like a house of cards. The chuckle that escaped him spoke of the amusement she'd already brought upon him by simply being. It was predictable - inevitable. She'd gone straight for the kill. For the champagne. He was incredulous that the strawberries hadn't toppled over from the weight of her arrogance. There was nothing left to do but further the destruction she'd started, so he stood, gallantly raising the remaining glass to her less than affectionate words. "We're doing as well as anyone could expect." Lucas took a lonesome sip of the champagne before settling it back in its original spot. God he hated champagne.
"It's a flattering dress," he observed, without giving it his full attention. It's what was expected, what needed to be said, but his heart was hardly in it. A red dress on Valentines Day? Her creativity wasn't going to win her any awards. Girls like Layla didn't need it though - the Vandervorts armed themselves in attention with little effort. He'd seen it before. He'd seen it tonight. Sapphire's tongue down so many throats.
He glanced over the room, a world of possibilities he definitely didn't want to share with any Vandervort. Nor anyone else, really. He could see himself as being in an envious position though, sure many would gladly take his place here tonight. Motioning into the room, he relented, "lady's choice." Leaving is an option, he thought.
Good god. Was this man always so miserable? She'd have to ask his brother later. Even Jason Walker was capable of cracking a smile and genuinely complimenting a woman. Not whatever that half assed 'iT's A fLaTtErInG dReSs' was. If he wanted to be thorny and barely conceal his contempt for her and this entire situation- truly why would he put a card in if he was going to act this way?- she could match that energy.
"I'm going to assume for your poor mother's sake that this isn't usually the way you treat women who grace you with their presence." She flashed a sarcastic grin before sipping her champagne. "If it is, yikes."
Her gaze followed his around the room, taking in the assortment of activities. Body paint, massage oil, twister. None of that was even remotely appealing given her current company, but she wasn't about to give up a perfectly acceptable suite and a bottle of Dom Perignon. He could leave if he wanted to. "Pass." She said with a dismissive wave towards the pile of activities as she settled herself in the remaining chair, intentionally angling her body towards him and leaning into his space under the guise of putting her champagne glass down on the small table between them. If he didn't want to be here, she would make him leave.
