Nash didn't often attend these things. Granted, he never stayed in the house long enough to be here for it. Which was mostly on purpose. The galas were some of his least favorite memories as a child. All four shoved into suits and made to play dolls for their mother as she played...well, a mother. Doting over them and cooing whenever anyone complimented them. He was old enough to know it wasn't true, his brothers often weren't. After his grandfather took a step back from that side of things, Skye ramped it up and tried to enforce mandatory attendance from each child. Nash was never very good at 'mandatory'.

As soon as Grayson had shown the slightest interest in this world, this life, Nash had been happy to hand it over and disappear into a world of travelling and silence. He came back sometimes, not often, and avoided his mother.

Of course, when everything blew up, he came back. Half for the drama, half to make sure this Avery girl wasn't going to be threatening his family. Because they were still his family. And she wasn't, she was as confused as the rest, and as hellbent as them on figuring it out. But that wasn't who he focused on, Jameson could have her, no he focused on her sibling. Kind eyes set in a hurt face, stress weighing shoulders too young to have to deal with that. He related, and he was interested.

He wouldn't admit he was excited when he heard they were coming to the gala, and he also wouldn't admit he curbed Alisa's insistence on dressing you both up to give you a dress he knew you would like. One that fit the style you wore and one you couldn't throw back in his face. And you'd look good in it. Alisa could play doll with the Heiress. He would take care of you. No matter how much you refused.

The gala had been going well. He'd even worn a suit and was talking to people, mainly trying to dissuade them from believing Avery was a teenage gold-digger, when his eyes spotted a scene across the room. Skye, standing king pin in the center of a Hawthorne-themed group and to the side was Ricky, yours and Avery's father (debatable in his mind), standing like a prop. Or a bomb. He stalked toward the group, eyes fixed on you as you stared, ashen face, at the two of them. Grayson was there attempting to calm the situation and shot him a stern look when he saw him approaching. Jameson grinned.

Skye was hissing something to Avery as he joined them, taking up pole position behind you. She tried to switch into her usual tone, or something close to it, when she saw him. Said something like 'Nash, darling'. But the look on his face told her she wasn't winning with him either, so she turned and stormed off to go entertain the guests. His hand landed on your back, and you stiffened.

He bent at the waist. "Need air, darlin'?"