England has a way of getting under my skin
And my family has a way of getting under my skin
[...] Heart melts, yeah you meant so well
But your song's no good round here

Emrys had not been expecting Christobal to stay this long, when he'd allowed him to take up residence in one of the guest rooms, but he had (remarkably), not yet managed to entirely disrupt Emrys' home life. Part of it, he supposed, was that the house was simply too big for two people — it was easy to avoid him, if he was in the mood to do so, which he frequently was.

It did mean that he'd had to rearrange some of his usual activities, however; instead of reading up in the 'study' with the full-wall painting of the pastoral scene, as he usually did, he'd had to take up residence in one of the downstairs lounges which he primarily used for company and whose windows were far too large and letting in too much light for this time of the morning. Christobal was, he thought, eating breakfast, and although Emrys had already read this Witch Weekly cover to cover, he was going to reread it until he heard his housemate leave the dining room. It wasn't that Christobal had done anything wrong, necessarily; Emrys just wasn't in the mood to talk to him over breakfast. In his defense, it would have taken quite a lot for Emrys to be in the mood to talk to anyone over breakfast.

So, retaking the which famous wizard would you marry quiz for the third time it was. He didn't take the quizzes for himself, usually; instead, he tried to pretend that he was someone else, like one of his brothers or some member of society that had irritated him recently, and took it on their behalf, then privately laughed over the answers they'd get.

He was distracted from this task by the sound, from the parlor next door, of the floo, and then a familiar voice. Shit. Emrys had not been planning for company, and he absolutely refused to let one of his family members find a strange man eating breakfast in his dining room. Rising from his chair hastily, Emrys tossed the issue of Witch Weekly to the floor and headed for the door. He immediately thought better of that and returned for it, instead stashing it beneath one of the throw pillows on the couch so that it was out of sight. From there, he nearly jogged to the dining room (thankfully avoiding his unexpected guest) and accosted Christobal.

"You've got to go," he said, grabbing the artist by the sleeve and pulling him up from where he'd been sat at the table. "Now. You can't be seen here."

His earrings were still in, he realized. Shit and damn — why hadn't anyone written him before dropping by unexpectedly? Who even did that? His family, apparently. Emrys let go of Christobal and started hurriedly removing one earring. "Go," he hissed, gesturing (with one elbow, which was all that he had available while his hands were otherwise occupied) to the far door.

Set over Easter break to allow for anyone to join; plus Christobal Vainart obvs