Familiar faces only proved to become more familiar since the takeover of Sootopolis. Though she had to admit that there was something far more relaxed about the atmosphere of the city since, it still left a cold, heavy weight in the pit of her stomach.

There were plenty of faces she expected to see in Sootopolis. His, however, was not one of them.

She notices Boruta immediately as he enters the bar. Heads turn, naturally, and eyes linger as the man crosses the bar floor to beckon for a beer. He is out of place, out of character. Emma regards him thoughtfully, but with no real intent to interact.

What is he doing here?

Emma rises from her seat slowly before approaching. The bartender slides another, identical drink next to Bo, unprompted. But it isn't for him, it's for Emma as she slides into the seat next to him.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're following me."

boruta maher

Emma's golden eyes linger a moment longer, sharp in their scrutiny of his excitement, of his ability to be so natural and carefree. Like the world doesn't rest on his shoulders, or that he's able to set it aside for just a moment to enjoy himself.

Knives and forks squeak quietly against the plate in his plunder, and she slowly follows the motion with her own, more methodical attention. She lifts mouthfuls to her lips slowly, lifts her attention from her plate to meet his - finding only his half-full and his grace misplaced.

"It's good."

But it's really good. It is warm on it's pathway down because she lets herself enjoy it. She chews slowly, purposefully, holding onto it longer. She just doesn't admit that out loud.

"Hm."

KING WAYLAND

This time, the silence between them is deafening. It leaves her cold and agitated, prepared to leave. But if she ran, it wouldn't get her anywhere. Chances are, he'd hunt her down anyway.

Her tumultuous thoughts are dispersed with the smell of food as its sat before her. Eggs and bacon and toast, steaming potatoes and gravy. She glances over in all in barely-veiled awe.

It reminds her of..

King speaks, breaking the spell. She glances up at him and then exhales, before helping herself.

KING WAYLAND

No, he wasn't. Most people weren't. They just lied and convinced themselves over and over that they were happy, or that what was just around the corner would bring them peace. But it was a lie - and that corner never stopped turning. It was a spiral staircase, exhausting and difficult to climb. It had no end, no ceiling, no promise of a happy ending.

All it had was the uncanny ability to make people sick.

But his honesty strikes a chord in her and forces her silent. It strips her of her confidence, of the high ground she sets herself upon. His words cut deep because they are the same ones she's chosen to recite over and over to others.

Don't try, just be- better.

And here she was, refusing to take her own advice. What sort of example did she make?

Emma's silence speaks volumes, and the woman's gaze pulls away from King's distaste for her to settle on the room. She looks without seeing, thoughts run rampant through her mind.

KING WAYLAND

Emma's brows furrow and she doesn't look up even as drinks are set before her. The an across the small table has her full attention to the point she is unabashedly rude to anyone else around her.

"You're not painting a very convincing picture, yourself."

He allowed himself to indulge, to enjoy, to participate in the world and allow himself to open up to others. But was that even true? The man she looks at now feels like a falsehood, a mirror image of herself only slightly distorted.

"Are you happy?"

KING WAYLAND

The wake of his hands leave behind goosebumps, raised skin that jumps at his every touch. She is responsive, attracted, ravenous. With her shirt removed and his whispered promise, Emma moves to remove his shirt next. Her fingers catch on exposed skin, on scars and marks that may one day become familiar to her.

Stay.

It repeats over and over like a chant in her head. She indulges, sealing his heavy breathing with aggressive, demanding kisses. She is teeth and nails and dogged anticipation. What he would give to her, she would swallow whole.

And what he wanted, she would give.

THEO BECKETT

In their pursuit of happiness, driven by hunger and loneliness and need, they have settled on the couch. His breath is warm against her cheek when they pull away. His question is heavy, one she, at first, didn't think she was strong enough to carry.

But she wants to be.

The woman shifts, slipping across his lap so that either knee digs into the couch on either side of his lap. She lowers onto him now, golden eyes fastened on his face. Fingers pull at her own shirt, drawing it up and past her shoulders to be cast aside on the arm of the chair.

"I want you to stay."

Her words are hushed, spoken like a secret between only two. Emma doesn't wait.

She will take, and take, and take.

THEO BECKETT

EMMA'S HST PURCHASES

TOTAL BP EARNED: 490 | tracker

	SILVALLY MEMORY - 60 BP
	MEGA EXTENDER - 60 BP
	POKEDOLLARS - 5 BP x 2

POIPOLE - 360 BP

Remaining: 0 BP

"It's the nature that was given to me, what I had to become to survive. It's what I am, what I always will be."

And all of her attempts to run from it, to hide from it, to tear it down, to change - to stop running? It all fell away the moment she got too comfortable. It all turned sour eventually, with a knife to the back or a bullet pressed to her temple. Sometimes her own gun.

"It's only exhausting being right."

KING WAYLAND

Sure. Just like everyone and their cousin. It was the perfect cover for something unfriendly, it was a cover she herself had used once before.

"Yes. I do, actually. That's quite literally the entire nature of who I am, Wayland."

KING WAYLAND

Emma glances to the woman, though says nothing. The friendliness, the familiarity, it twists like a sharp knife. She glances to King, though she doesn't know what it is she hopes to find in his stormy gaze.

In him, in their interaction, she sees a different side to the hardened, angry man. She sees something kind, something genuine, something warm. It catches her by surprise, and she doesn't look away.

"You trust these people."

KING WAYLAND