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Without realizing it, she's mimicked his smirk because his response is exactly what she'd been looking for. [break][break]

The goosebumps remain on her skin and she tucks her knees closer, effectively making herself look smaller and weaker than she preferred. It had been a long time, perhaps a lifetime ago, that she had felt this degree of vulnerability.[break][break]

She doesn't pick up on his thoughts because she isn't psychic, but she does detect some note of forced quiet from him. His mind is on something else but related to her and he dwells on it for a moment. [break][break]

And then he speaks and she feels the dryness in her mouth return.[break][break]

"Why?"[break][break]

Her voice is flat but demands an answer. She tucks her toes in between the cushions as she seeks warmth.[break][break]

"We aren't friends. There is no loyalty here, no obligation."[break][break]

But he's right. She wouldn't get very far. Perhaps she hadn't intended to.

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He meets her gaze, unwavering. Her words ring with a truth he understands just as well.[break][break]

Still, he shrugs.[break][break]

"No obligation, but that doesn't mean there isn't loyalty." He could have left her to die. He thinks she might not have made it, had he not intervened. Perhaps she might've fended off her fledgling attackers, but blood loss did not discriminate between the strong and the weak. "I respect you, Emma. That's why."[break][break]

He desired to work for a Rocket that looked out for their own. She wasn't affiliated with them any longer, but he remembered her from the before, when every decision was life-or-death.[break][break]

He laughs, dry and humourless.[break][break]

"Don't worry, I'm not looking for the same in return. I told you, once — I have a code."[break][break]

It transcended loyalty to Rocket alone. He should have sided with the reckless grunts, actual members of the organization, but he had no respect for their foolishness.

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He shrugs and for some reason that resonates with her. His words strike a chord in her that she doesn't care to admit. Whatever it does to her doesn't scratch her surface but she does look away in order to break the focused eye contact.[break][break]

For some reason he makes her feel strange. She isn't nervous and not necessarily uncomfortable. But there is something.[break][break]

"Respect should be given to the people who deserve it."[break][break]

She sounds far away, her attention distant. She presses her chin into her knees as the warming effects of the scotch seep into her bones. It's working its magic and she's finally relaxing.[break][break]

His dry laugh stirs in her chest but she offers the man no response. She does, however, glance towards him again when he mentions his 'code'.[break][break]

There had been something familiar about him before and she had now put the pieces together. If that wasn't an indication of how far she'd fallen, then she wasn't sure what was.[break][break]

"No one does anything for free."[break][break]

It's clear, then, that she doesn't believe that he isn't looking for something from her. Emma's eyes shift away from him and close softly, allowing the effects of the liquor to cloud her senses.

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"You're implying that you don't?"[break][break]

His question is rhetorical; the implication of her words is quite clear. There's a distance to her that hadn't been present before, and the over-analytical man finds himself silently wondering at the inner-workings of her mind.[break][break]

He understood feelings of inadequacy. His greatest fear was to not measure up, so he forced a confidence that bled into his every breath.[break][break]

"I don't offer it lightly."[break][break]

Really, there weren't many people that he respected, and all were for different reasons. His respect for Silas had been borne out of fear, where his respect for Emma was for her strength, her intensity. Perhaps she wasn't displaying those qualities in her moment of weakness, but he'd seen them before.[break][break]

"You're expecting me to demand something from you?" There's a thread of amusement in his tone. He certainly could, if he'd wanted to, but... "I don't intend to. My only ask is that you keep this place a secret."[break][break]

This place was supposedly Cavalli's, not Merlino's... hence why no Rocket had ever set foot here. It was not a safehouse, but a home.

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She does not open her eyes when he speaks. They have become heavy with exhaustion and she has no will to fight it. For reasons she doesn't want to entertain, she feels safe.[break][break]

Instead, she exhales as if that qualifies as a response. She doesn't owe him anything, he's made that clear. [break][break]

Regardless of whether she cares to admit it - which she doesn't - it means a great deal to her to hear someone insist they respected her. Words of that caliber, promises of that high a regard didn't come often, if at all. She was not the type of person worthy of such praise.[break][break]

And yet he had taken her under his wing without a second thought. His generosity mystified her because she couldn't promise the same in return had their roles been reversed.[break][break]

She was not a good person.[break][break]

One eye reopens lazily to observe him and there's the slightest hint of a limber smile spreading on her face.[break][break]

"What, worried I'll tell someone that you haven't gotten any ass in god knows how long? The severe lack of strewn about panties is very obvious."

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Gavin's laughter at her jibe is sudden and sharp, a genuine sound that wasn't often coaxed from him.[break][break]

"I could be gay," he retorts. Amber eyes shine with mirth, more expressive than he's been all night. "Or into necrophilia. Maybe I get my action elsewhere."[break][break]

There's something about the humour in his tone that suggests neither is the case. Honestly, Gavin's fairly certain that he is nothing. No amount of experimentation in his youth with women and men alike had led to answers.[break][break]

"You'll ruin my reputation as a Casanova if that gets out."[break][break]

Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if his reputation trended more toward the creepy side of things. The cold personality that tended to come across to others led to many rumours, none of which he denied.

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She sparks laughter from him and she's genuinely surprised. His barking tone causes her to look up from her resting position against her knees to watch him with idle curiosity. She struggles to mask the amused smirk on her face, however, thanks to the scotch warming her veins.[break][break]

"Hmm."[break][break]

The woman humors his dark and mysterious sexual side because there's no real indication he could be lying. Nor did she really care - in fact she's not really sure why she had brought it up in the first place. [break][break]

But the way that he nonchalantly announces both as viable options gives her the impression that that isn't the case and he's fueling the joke with his own entertainment. It almost makes her chuckle - almost.[break][break]

"I think you're doing a good job of ruining it yourself."[break][break]

And yet in some indiscernible way, she's drawn to him. Perhaps it's just the desperation of the situation she found herself in, and yet she couldn't deny that it felt odd to meet him a second time, again with no animosity. [break][break]

It then occurred to her that she needed to use the bathroom. She allows her legs to fall back down before she attempts to twist her body to face him. Despite how little movement actually occurs she pants, sweat beading on her brow as she works to not aggravate or reopen her wound.

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Some may take her words as an insult, but Gavin only smiles.[break][break]

"Why, thank you. I do my best."[break][break]

In all honesty, the reason Gavin made no effort to dispel the rumours surrounding him was simple: he enjoyed the mystique it provided. People were never certain whether to trust or fear him. This had become especially useful as he'd risen through the ranks.[break][break]

Emma shifts, and Gavin's languid posture stiffens as he leans forward in his chair, brow knitting with concern. She's sweating, breathing hard, and he lifts a hand as if to silently caution her against... whatever it was she was trying to do.
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"It... may be best to stay put, for a while."[break][break]

He's oblivious to her current plight, thinking only of the delicate state of her injuries.

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Gavin accepts her insult with another laugh and she disguises her smirk in favor of trying to get up off the couch. Her fingers press into the fabric as she catches her breath and focuses on not losing her nerve. [break][break]

She catches his raised hand, his silent plea for her to stop. With her good hand she waves him away, a growl in her voice.[break][break]

"Don't tell me what I cannot do."[break][break]

But she doesn't appear to have the strength to follow up with her defensive remark as she lays her cheek on her uninjured shoulder.[break][break]

Her narrowed eyes seek his as he speaks, her lips pressed into a fine line. [break][break]

"Then you might want to turn the other cheek, because I'm not about to relieve myself on this couch."

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She snaps at him, expected. Emma strikes him as a like-minded soul — stubborn and prideful. Perhaps it's why he has so much respect for her.[break][break]

He blinks at the mention of her relieving herself. Yes, that would be a bit of a problem, wouldn't it? There was no bathroom in the basement; prior to Gavin installing his lab into the space, it had been little more than an unfinished storage space.[break][break]

She won't be able to hold it forever, especially not under the influence of alcohol, so...[break][break]

"The bathroom is upstairs. I'll help you up."[break][break]

He frames it as a statement, rather than a question, already on his feet with a hand extended in silent offer in case she needed to steady herself upon standing.

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She hesitates because she is exactly that, a stubborn and prideful individual. Her injuries were severe this time and she couldn't deny that, but she refused to accept that she was incapable of looking after herself. And yet she couldn't find the strength to stand on her own without the world spinning - and the alcohol definitely didn't help.[break][break]

So when his hand reaches out to her and the request falls on her to accept, she glances from his palm to his face. Her breathing slows as she works to quell the throb in her temple.[break][break]

It comes as a surprise even to her when she relents, placing her hand in his and holding tight as she used him to pull herself off of the couch. [break][break]

Her grip is surprisingly strong despite the fever she brings, and she steadies her breathing and forces herself to try and relax her muscles. [break][break]

"Might want to hurry."[break][break]

Emma chuckles softly.

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Emma's grip is an iron vice, but Gavin does not wince or falter. In spite of his appearance, in line with the typical portrayal of a scientist with his glasses and slight frame, there is lean, hard muscle that holds him steady.[break][break]

After all, he's not only a scientist.[break][break]

He laughs when she does, a deep sound that reverberates from the depths of his throat. They share a similar sense of humour, he's learning.[break][break]

When she's caught her breath and relaxed her grip enough that he feels she's ready, Gavin guides her up the narrow staircase with one hand around her waist — to stop her from falling, if she lost her balance — and the other gripping hard to the iron railing to keep them both steady in the event of a slip.[break][break]

At the top of the stairs, they're greeted by a small hallway that opens up into the living space on the left and the front door on the right. A curious Alcremie sidles into the living area from the kitchen beyond, concern evident in her delicate features as she lifts a creamy hand to her mouth. Gavin notes with quiet satisfaction that her strawberries look especially vibrant.[break][break]

To Emma, he nods to the bathroom door.[break][break]

"Just call out if you need anything. I won't go far."[break][break]

He gestures to the armchair in the living room nearby as if to indicate his intended location. A book rests on the side-table, half-read.

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Even in her exhausted and disoriented state, Emma is genuinely impressed to feel lean muscle under her fingers. She had had him pegged as a scrawny scientist with no backbone. It surprised her to see that she was wrong. Apparently Mr. Merlino did more than mix liquids in his basement.[break][break]

But it also surprises her how easy it has been to relax in his company despite not knowing a damn thing about him. In some ways, it scares her as well. It causes an automatic response from her to pull away as soon as they reach the top of the stairs, despite how strangely comforting it was to have him help her brave them in the first place.[break][break]

Her gaze shifts to take in the brighter scenery and the Alcremie at the top of the stairs. A joke bubbles to surface but she keeps a lid on it, suddenly uncomfortable with how open she was being.[break][break]

The moment he lets her go and gestures to the bathroom she takes the first step to separate themselves. Her legs still feel weak and his physical presence is a daunting loss, but she manages to both open and close the door behind her. The rest of the process is time consuming and exhausting and slightly painful as she squats down and tries not to aggravate her wounds.[break][break]

So it's more than likely she spends her sweet time in there just trying not to faint.

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