[ emma's a bit impressed he actually stands there for the scolding, much as he obviously dislikes it; he's not skulking off or turning invisible, like he absolutely could, and that look on his face is amusing as hell on its own.

it's easier for emma to find her sense of humor these days, now that things are thoroughly settled with bogue, but she never smiles quite the same as she does when faraday's around — even if she's just as much rolling her eyes at him with a hint of mirth tugging at her lips. she's occasionally rather galled by his jokes, and those are, of course, greeted with the usual disapporving glare, but when he makes her laugh— well, that's special all on its own. ]

It could've just as easy been somethin' that needed a firmer hand.

[ she gives him a pointed look, but it's all in an attempt to keep the small grin off of her face long enough to keep giving him a level of good-natured grief. she wants to keep that serious expression, meet his unimpressed gaze with one of her own, and she just mirrors his posture with her own hands on her hips, her eyebrow cocking up expectantly. the rag has slipped slightly from her hand, not pressed so firmly over the cut that now seeps blood slowly onto her white apron.

she, of course, doesn't notice, fixated though she is on faraday. ]

It wouldn't be just small as this, then, and it would've been your pranks that cost me a whole finger.