[ emma's more than aware of the hesitancy in faraday's posture, easily picking up on that expression that seems like he's waiting for her to snap at him with pointed teeth and glass-sharp edges. not that she can blame him: her reaction to proximity with him recently has been...skittish, overly mindful not to get near enough even for accidental contact.
(like she's expecting a burn or a bucket of icey water for her trouble.)
but instead of stepping pointedly away from him when he stands beside her, she holds her ground, maintains her unwavering gaze. emma is an individual of intensity, and in this moment, that focus is squarely on faraday, rather than more of the same fleeting, dismissive attention she'd paid him lately. ]
Yes, that's the one.
[ there's nothing hard about her tone, but for a second, she hesitates, questioning herself, but then the moment passes, and she reaches to take the pan from him.
as her fingers wrap around the handle, they brush over his. it's brief, gentle, but very much there, very intentional. she doesn't recoil or step away from him like she might have the rest of this week, doesn't jerk back like she's affronted by it, but rather, she seems wholly unbothered by the touch of his unearthly skin under hers.
(it's that casual contact of before, how easily and naturally she'd touched him, without a second thought.) ]
I appreciate it.
[ there's a part of that wants to— say something? reach out to him? apologize? does she owe that to him?
probably, given her inexplicable avoidance, but it's harder to swallow down her pride long enough to acknowledge that.
this is strangely easier, like a proffered olive branch of sorts — though it's not an explanation or much of a gesture on its own (because she still doesn't know how to parse this out, how to go about understanding exactly what she'd felt being so close to him and— and the fact that she's still drawn to being just as near as before, wouldn't even mind the possibility of more—
but oh, that's a dangerous line of thought. like looking down into a murky lake, because she can't see what's at the bottom or what kind of trouble she'll be letting herself dive into if she indulges those nagging little calls to be at this dead man's side.) ]
...might please you to know I haven't touched those cards long enough to go ruinin' their luck for you yet.
no subject
(like she's expecting a burn or a bucket of icey water for her trouble.)
but instead of stepping pointedly away from him when he stands beside her, she holds her ground, maintains her unwavering gaze. emma is an individual of intensity, and in this moment, that focus is squarely on faraday, rather than more of the same fleeting, dismissive attention she'd paid him lately. ]
Yes, that's the one.
[ there's nothing hard about her tone, but for a second, she hesitates, questioning herself, but then the moment passes, and she reaches to take the pan from him.
as her fingers wrap around the handle, they brush over his. it's brief, gentle, but very much there, very intentional. she doesn't recoil or step away from him like she might have the rest of this week, doesn't jerk back like she's affronted by it, but rather, she seems wholly unbothered by the touch of his unearthly skin under hers.
(it's that casual contact of before, how easily and naturally she'd touched him, without a second thought.) ]
I appreciate it.
[ there's a part of that wants to— say something? reach out to him? apologize? does she owe that to him?
probably, given her inexplicable avoidance, but it's harder to swallow down her pride long enough to acknowledge that.
this is strangely easier, like a proffered olive branch of sorts — though it's not an explanation or much of a gesture on its own (because she still doesn't know how to parse this out, how to go about understanding exactly what she'd felt being so close to him and— and the fact that she's still drawn to being just as near as before, wouldn't even mind the possibility of more—
but oh, that's a dangerous line of thought. like looking down into a murky lake, because she can't see what's at the bottom or what kind of trouble she'll be letting herself dive into if she indulges those nagging little calls to be at this dead man's side.) ]
...might please you to know I haven't touched those cards long enough to go ruinin' their luck for you yet.
[ ...well, that's something. ]