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Sid sauntered along the pavement, a slight hop in his movements. He'd woken up early, and got straight to work - googling nearby racing tracks on his laptop. Despite getting sidetracked by the telly, when On the Buses came on, - he had tinkered with the set, rewiring it so it tuned into the British channels. He supposed he had a quiet morning. Nobody had moved an inch from their rooms. He supposed his relatives were either sleeping in - or his uncles were avoiding his dad like the plague. Sid shrugged to himself, it was their own fault. He humed, mind wondering, he grinned at the sight of a cream building.
He gazed with a awe, halting in his step after entering. Eyes taking in ever detail, a grin took his lips. Excitement tickled his insides, he was itiching to get behind a wheel. Race down the road. Feeling the wind through his hair, through the open windows. He practically bounced with every step as his feet moved themselves towards the counder.
"Can I help you?" The man questioned, bored.
"Ye'h," Sid grinned, tilting his head "How much does it cost for a membership?"
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Rebekah held her shoes close to her chest, silently creeping down the staircase, glancing around the corridor and into the parlour. She didn't want to be caught out. Matthew strolled into the parlour from the kitchen, a cup of steaming tea in his hand. His temper had subsided, but he was still unhappy. Luckily for him, his brothers were keeping to their rooms. Keeping well out of his way, like the scaredy cats they were. He halted in his movement, eyes landing on the telly that was blaring away. An old George Cole was on the screen, with a young Dennis Waterman. Matthew sighed, picking up the remote from the arm of the chair before turning the box off.
"Sidney." He muttered, placing the remote on the table. He heard the little scroundrel moving about, knowing his vehicle deprived son, he was up at some racing track. Trying to get in, whilst keeping his record quiet. He took a sip of his tea, turning his head. Footsteps. Coming from the stairs. He furrowed one brow before sauntering towards the doorway. He smirked slightly at what he saw "Going somewhere?"
Rebekah cursed, stubbing her toe when she jumped. She looked over the banister, her heart drop, he was the last person she wanted catching her out. She scrowled at the amused look on his face, - which only made his smirk broaden. She found herself admiring the Salvatore for a second, as he leant against the doorframe, on ankle crossed over the other, a hand buried in his trouser pocket. Snapping herself out of it "Matthew."
"Rebekah." He echoed amused, eyes breifly scanning the state of her dress "Damon really did a number on you. Didn't he?" He remarked, causing her to narrow her eyes at him. Was it wrong to hope he was slightly jealous?
"Why, envious?" She questioned, smug.
"No," he shook his head blankly, seemingly unaffected "I'm hardly surpised actually." She raised her brows, puzzled "I never pegged you as a screamer."
