White Collar

Demyan 

I parked outside of Malia's family home with my grey matte Rolls Royce Phantom that had been brought over for me to use during my stay. I thought her little Mini would work but I was already cramping by the time I had climbed out of it at the hotel. 

Her face had been red the entire drive here since my security and the car itself drew in a lot of attention. "Couldn't you pick a normal car, Demyan?" she hissed as she released her seatbelt.

"I'm big," I complained, "I need a lot of legroom and I don't want my head to be hitting the ceiling every time."

"Uncle Ed fits just fine in his Lamborghinis and Ferraris," she folded her arms across her chest. 

"You haven't seen the amount of physios he needs afterwards and Pa is no better," I pouted, "You're tiny you don't get a say in this."