Em and Timothy stood in the hall, Grey's bustling around them, the occasional Purple or Warden passing them by with a sideways glance. It had been two days and Emily still hadn't spoken a word to Em, making her feel isolated from the pair. She didn't want to admit the truth in Langdon's statement — she'd find a way to reconcile with the other girl even if it was out of spite.

"She's coming around," Timothy assured her, "you could always talk to her, you know?"

"She likes you more," Em said, Timothy shaking his head as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"You two are not great at admitting our mistakes, are you?"

"I stand by my words," Em informed him, "and I won't apologize unless it is sincere."

Timothy sighed, understanding her reasoning but none the less finding the situation stressful. Emily had given him the same response only hours earlier. The two were remarkably similar, only diverging in small, almost microscopic chinks of their moral alignment.

"Perhaps if I could better explain—"

"My mom always said the best thing to fix an argument was space," he sighed, knowing how that conversation would end, "just… be patient."

"Hard to be patient when she misses game night," Em jested, a small smile forming, "I had to team up with Coco."

Timothy laughed, "the world appreciates your sacrifice."

"Timothy!" A voice called out, the pair looking down the hall behind said boy. Em peaked her head out from behind his shoulder to see Emily standing there. Emily's face fell and her posture became stiff, lips pressing into a thin line.

"It'll all work out," Timothy assured one last time before walking towards his girlfriend, hand going out to take hers when he got close enough. Emily spared Em a glance before turning to walk the opposite direction, pulling Timothy close to whisper something.

Em wasn't good at apologies. She knew that. Her mother used to drag her in front of someone she offended and force her to say the words even if she didn't mean them. Insincerity was a trait the older woman had refined… a tone of voice Em knew all too well.

So she turned on her heels and walked in the opposite direction, wondering if she was being sincere in her lack of action or simply being too proud. Her feet led her to the salon, not in the mood for Langdon to appear over her shoulder once more and bring up unpleasant emotions. The brunette wouldn't even be able to focus on reading, anyways.

The salon was surprisingly empty and quiet. A Grey bustled around dusting and cleaning as a familiar tuft of white hair sat on the sofa.

"Where is everyone?" she asked rounding the sofa.

"Hell if I know," Gallant sighed as she sat down beside him, "this place is a fucking maze."

"Evie in an interview?"

He chuckled and smirked, "and I finally have some peace and quiet."

"Where's Coco?"

"She's in one of her moods," Gallant said, whatever satisfaction he had left him, smile fading into a frown, "God forbid I want to talk about something other than her."

"As a hairstylist, I thought you'd be used to it."

"It's not like I worked the salon 24/7."

Em reached for a glass of water, "fair."

There was a moment of silence… peace. Naturally, Gallant couldn't let it last for very long.

"So what's your deal?" He asked as she leaned back in her seat.

"I've made many deals in my life, some savory some unsavory," She said, "You're going to have to be more specific."

"Well duh," he said, rolling his eyes, "I meant personally. You've got this whole… mysterious thing that's great, don't get me wrong, but also there are like… four men left in the world and three are gay so you're going to have to change your brand."

"Well, I'm bi so that solves that." Em said before muttering into her glass, "bold of you to assume I'm straight."

Gallant rolled his eyes, "Everyone's bi in the right situation."

Em's lips pressed into a thin line. She had met people like Gallant, people who said the exact same thing — toxic.

"Well I'm also ace so…" she says.

"So you're either a prude or someone did ya' dirty."

"Or I just don't like sex."

"How can you not like sex?"

"I don't know…" Em trailed, trying to press a point, "How can you?"

"How can you not?"

Em's nerves were already wearing thin.

"Well, we all know where it got Stu." She snapped. They all knew Venable was homophobic. Singling out the gay men? She didn't even try to hide it.

"You really don't pull the punches, do you?"

"It's the apocalypse," she said frowning into her drink, "If I held back I'd be dead."

Gallant silently toasted her mentality, but the look on his face displayed a sort of… judgment. She knew the look all too well. It asked — "Are you really part of the LGBT community or do you just want to feel special?"

"Let me put it this way," She said, putting her drink down and turning to the man, "Do you like Brussels sprouts?"

He looked at her like she had grown a new head, "no."

"How can you not? I mean you must not have had the good ones…. Maybe it wasn't seasoned right. No one just doesn't like Brussels sprouts."

"Alright, alright," Gallant conceded, raising his hands in defeat, "I get your point."

"I get it," Em admitted after a moment of silence, "I can pass as hetero-normative if I need to and I have due to being in the closet. But both sides of the table always told me I was just seeking attention or going through a phase."

"This conversation got way deeper than I was planning on it to be," Gallant noted, eying his drink before mirroring Em and putting it on the table.

"Yeah," Em admitted with a chuckle, leaning back on the couch and staring at the ceiling, "Some things just didn't die with the apocalypse, huh?"

"New world," He said, glancing at Em as he mirrored her actions, "same bullshit."


At some point, Em wandered back towards the library. It was a siren's song she could not fight against. Also, one could only bare Gallant's companionship for so long. The man had a way to take his good moments and completely ruin them. He had tried to ask her about multiple highly-sexual definitions as a sort of test of her sexuality or somehow prove it was real to begin with.

To quell her irritation, she focused on what she was going to do once she got to the library. There was a first edition Hawthorne she had her eye on, but the ever-looming threat of death made her wish for more science books. Hell, she'd take her old high-school textbooks over Hawthorne any day if it gave her the information she needed.

With a sigh, she took out her notebook and scribbled down yet another unanswered question to research into. It only grew longer as the days passed with no end or hope of answers in sight. The only way to survive was to wander out into the radiation, but she'd rather die at the hands of cannibals than fall victim to cancer and tumors. Perhaps if they focused on finding canned preserves the risk would be lower? It was more hopeful thinking than anything else.

Nose in a book, she barely even noticed the figure rounding the corner until her shoulder clashed with theirs. Pencil clattering to the floor, a hand beat hers to the mark and she pulled back as she kneeled on the floor.

Emily was before her, mouth twisting as she handed the pencil back and searched for the words to say. Em was the first to stand back up, Emily patting at her skirt to buy more time.

"Hey," Em spoke, breaking the silence.

"Hey."

"So…" Em bit her lip, looking to the floor to the ceiling and anywhere that wasn't Emily before sighing and looking at the girl, "I'm sorry. I got so... consumed by surviving I talked to you like you were stupid instead of listening to your concerns."

"As am I," Emily echoed, shoulders losing their tension, "I pretty much called you a heartless bitch."

Em chuckled, "we both got heated. It's not like your mindset wasn't warranted."

With a half-hearted smile, Emily gestured to the library door, Em holding it open for her before following after. As always, everything was right where they left it. Books left to the side stayed exactly in the order she had arranged, bookmarks in the right places. It was the one corner of the world the chaos didn't touch... or at least where she could begin to understand it.

They fell into place at a table, Em sitting in a seat and Emily sitting on the table itself. She looked around the room, obviously not having been in there since Em and herself fought.

"You know," Emily began, "before all this I was protesting a coffee shop for exploiting child labor."

"Now those kids have more to worry about than poverty," Em finished the thought, "and they didn't have the luxury of a decent childhood."

Emily thinks about it and shakes her head, "I was always told I was getting angry for no reason, taking things too far."

She looked to Em, "I'm tired of not being able to do anything and then it being too late."

Em broke from her gaze, trying to turn the chaotic disorder of her thoughts into words, "I wish I could jump into the deep end like you, but I just… I just can't be a hero. It goes against everything ingrained in me."

Emily smiled sadly at the girl, squeezing her hand. She always seemed to understand without asking. Em thought it was like her superpower or something.

"Let's collect info," Emily reassured, "and when you feel like it's time… we'll strike."

"When we think it's time," Em insisted, "ya'll's asses are on the line too."

Emily smiled and shook her head, "we'll take a vote. Do it like a jury or something."

"Viva la revolution."

They talked for a while, Em updating her on post-interview plans. They needed to find a way to conquer the radiation. There had to be more than one organization of doomsday preppers in the LA area.

"What about the cannibals?" Emily asked, "we don't even know what or even if there's an armory in this place."

"That's why I was thinking of sneaking into—"

They were interrupted by the screeching of un-oiled door hinges, both girls quickly turning towards the sound. Bookshelves blocked their view, but the telltale sound of steel-toed boots against carpet was unmistakable to Em. Emily looked to her friend as she stood, walking towards the sound.

"Erika?"

The Fist appeared from one of the aisles, smiling at the girl as Emily looked between the two. Em fell back to sit next to Emily, giving her a reassuring smile as she closed the notebook they had been looking at.

"You have a good ear," The Fist said, turning to nod a greeting to Emily.

"Emily," Em introduced, "Erika."

"A pleasure," The Fist said, Emily offering a still anxious smile before addressing business, "Mr. Langdon wishes to speak to you."

"Me?" Emily asked, hand on her chest as she looked between the two.

"No," The Fist replied turning to the third woman in the room.

Em's brows knitted in confusion. "But some of the residents haven't even had their first—"

"It's okay," Emily tried to reassure, nodding for Em to go ahead, "we'll talk more about books later."

Em gave a nod of confirmation before turning to The Fist, "lead the way."

Once the woman's back was turned Em sent a frantic glance to Emily. Had someone overheard their conversations? Venable killed people for just having sex. God knows what she'd do if she unearthed conspiracy.

"I'll be with Timothy when you're done."

The hallways suddenly felt more foreboding, her paranoia making every shadow into an enemy. Would she be able to fight her way out of there? No… not alone, at the very least. They had guns… she didn't. She knew how to disarm them. Bullets only went in one direction, after all. Then again, things like that were easier said than done. It was incredible what people were capable of when they were put between a rock and a hard place.


Langdon didn't look up at her as she entered, gesturing to the chair she had sat in before as he shuffled through papers.

"Miss Mead tells me you're instrumental in keeping morale up among the residents."

Em paused at the arm of the empty chair, hand resting on the back, "Do you ever start with a hello?"

Blue eyes finally lifted from papers, a smile crawling onto his face as he put his pen down. His hands sat on either side of his work as he stared at her with what seemed like amusement in his eyes. "Do you ever directly answer questions?"

"Sometimes."

A smirk of her own crawled to her lips as she settled into her chair, "I simply make suggestions on how to pass the time. What they do with that is up to them."

"You sell yourself short," Langdon noted, examining her reactions, "there must be something that drives your mediation between residents."

"Boredom?"

"Actions cause reactions. There has to be something you wish to gain."

Langdon leaned forward and Em's skin prickled with anxiety. He didn't know anything. He was fishing. He couldn't prove anything. "Tell me… what do you desire?"

She had expected accusations, the lack of which made her at a loss for words. Langdon watched her think for a long moment. Her eyes trained on the floor, looking beyond it at something he couldn't see. She shook her head, defeated.

"Honestly," she admitted, "I don't know."

"Everyone desires something," he pressed, "luxury, prestige, sex... Ah, well. The latter not so much in your case."

Em either didn't notice the faux pas or simply didn't comment on it. Langdon knew it was low-hanging fruit, anyways.

"Material objects bring such fleeting enjoyment," she sighed, "and then you're bored again looking for something to fill the hole."

She paused, genuinely unable to think of anything.

"I guess I'd like to live comfortably," she admitted, "… not worry over rent or if I can buy food… but being here has negated the need for that."

"Then let's speak immaterial," Langdon proposed.

That. That she did have an answer for, "motivation… happiness."

Her interrogator was less than impressed, scoffing at her response, "sounds like something from an Instagram thirst ad."

Em laughed, amused as she realized the truth in his words and how she must sound saying them aloud. Langdon was once again perplexed by her reaction. He had been expecting something much more defensive.

"But it's true," she assured, looking down at her skirt and fixating on a piece of fuzz that had settled on the purple fabric, "I want to have motivation to work on the things I love. I want those fleeting moments of happiness to last longer… but these days they only last a heartbeat before they're gone."

He continued to stare at her. She was an oddity among this lot, genuine in a way none of them could ever hope to be. Langdon could see the desire in her eyes and the sadness that came with knowing it was something that could never be given to her. It wasn't fame or fortune… those desires were always so much easier.

"A material object gives focus to desire," she finally finished, finally gathering the confidence to look back into his eyes once more, "but it is fleeting. I know that all too well."

For once Langdon was the one who was at a loss for words. The two could simply look at one another for a long moment until Em broke the silence.

"May I ask you a question?"

He waved his hand for her to continue, "Why am I receiving a second interview before some residents have received their first?"

"Maybe I think you have potential."

Em's face twisted into a wry smile, "or you want me to think I do."

She did have a way of making him laugh.

"You're quite the character," he admitted, leaning back as he chuckled, "it makes me wonder exactly what would happen if you let go."

"Let go?"

"Of that anger boiling inside of you."

There it was. The dropping of the pin. Langdon liked to get you comfortable before he shoved in the knife.

Once again, Em felt the need to edge around the statement. A sinner in church felt themselves being watched by a thousand eyes when the reality was not a single one was focused upon them. No. She'd watch her words until he accused her of conspiracy. She'd play it safe.

Langdon watched her become guarded. Hands once placed on either arm of the chair became centered on her lap, fingers twisted together. Green eyes dilated and he could see a muscle tense around her jaw.

"Momentary catharsis isn't worth the consequences," she noted.

"There are no laws anymore," he noted, rounding the desk, "no rules. Chaos has won."

Em shook her head, "don't tempt me."

If she hadn't of known better she'd of said he looked… enthralled. There was an eagerness to his gaze. Langdon felt his heart leap in his chest. It was as if he was witnessing a phoenix rise from the ashes.

"You're picturing it now, aren't you?" he asked, "taking back the power Venable holds, leading a revolt to—"

"Good things come to those who wait," Em noted, pulling back and leaning back into the chair in preparation to rise from it, "until the cards are in my favor I won't move."

His tone scared her as he continued to press and press a button she had been trying to ignore. It was like staring at a snake alone in the middle of the desert, unsure if its bite will simply hurt or turn your insides to mush. Either way, it was just the two of you. Even if you managed to wrangle it off you and cut off its head there was a chance you wouldn't survive.

"Hold the cards too close to your chest and they will be wasted."

He only moved slightly towards her and she jumped to her feet as if his mere presence was a blazing inferno. The buzzing feeling began again, spreading from her chest to her head and all the way out to her limbs.

"I think we're done here," Em said, words rushing from her mouth before they could catch in her chest. She took a step back. His hands moved quickly, but his touch was light as he grabbed her arm. He pulled her towards him, just as gentle.

"Don't be afraid," he said, voice almost soft as blue eyes searched into her green ones, "I'm on your side."

She yanked her arm from his grasp. Em did not care for cages, gilded or covered with rust. Langdon's eyes looked hurt as she pulled away, gaze going desperately between her face and her arm as if trying to understand why she pulled away.

"Forgive me if I don't believe you," She snapped before leaving the room as quickly as her feet would carry her. Langdon simply stood still and let her go, hand slowly falling to his side.

In her desperation to flee, Em's surroundings seemed to blur around her. She had tunnel-vision and all that mattered was getting as far away from Langdon as possible. What he made her feel… there were no words for it. She was terrified and excited all at once. It was like being on a roller-coaster, the adrenaline rush making you run into danger again and again. No. She wouldn't run into the fire. She wouldn't play hero.

"Woah!" a voice exclaimed, "slow down."

Timothy stood in front of her, hands on either shoulder as he bent down to look her in her eyes. They were frantic, dilated, and unable to focus on anything.

"What happened?"

Movement over her shoulder caught his eye from somewhere down the hall. Langdon stood there, hands coming to rest behind his back as he eyed the pair. A noticeable frown was on the blond's lips, eyes narrowing on Timothy's hands on the woman's shoulders. Timothy felt like he had interrupted something… probably for the better. He honestly couldn't tell.

Finally noticing Timothy's gaze, Em glanced over her shoulder to find nothing but a dark hall. She quickly righted herself, calming her breathing and nerves.

"Where's Emily?" she asked, voice almost robotically even.

"In her room…" Timothy said, pulling his eyes from the dark hall, "why?"

Em shook her head, "You were right… something is wrong with Langdon... wrong with this entire fucking outpost. We need a plan sooner rather than later."


Hours later, Em couldn't place why she had been so scared. When she looked at his face she just felt pain striking right at her chest and there was only a moment before the venom destroyed her from the inside out.

Timothy and Emily had noted her distress, promising to brainstorm ideas and meet up later once things settled down. While Em had been the first to propose that they keep their ear to the pavement, the patience to do so was quickly thinning.

There was something in Langdon's eye… like he could see everything she had ever done or ever will do. It was like he knew exactly what they were doing.

Em paced her room, trying to keep her mind on the tangible instead of giving in to fear. A plan… she needed to figure out a plan. The Warden's, Grey's, and Venable were her best bet at getting a base-level understanding of how the outpost was run. She had tried talking to the Grey's, but they either knew

Things just didn't add up. Most of the residents, no matter their station, seemed in the dark about The Cooperative's movements. Venable even seemed perplexed. There could be information in the woman's room, but doing so would lead them to a quick death.

Their best bet would be to gather information from the Greys, scattered and benign as it may be. Emily was probably talking to them now as Em paced and paced. Going as a group would make them larger targets and more suspicious, but it was maddening to just sit and wait.

A knock on the door pulled her from her reverie. Em raced to hide her notes in her desk. Putting them all back in order was taking more time than she expected. Another knock came, harder and more urgent.

"Just a second!" Em sang, deciding to just shove all the papers in the desk and organize them later. Smoothing down her hair and straightening her skirt, Em stalked to the door and opened it.

There was momentary relief when she saw Coco, quickly replaced with dread when she realized exactly who was standing outside her door.

"Yes?" Em asked, leaning forward as she had one hand on the door and another on the frame. Coco had a sickly sweet smile on her face which could only mean one thing.

"I need your help."

At least this time she hadn't beat around the bush and wasted Em's time with an hour conversation about doing makeup in horrible lighting. She stared at Em, an awkward silence falling between the pair.

"With?" Em finally asked.

Coco gave her a look, "my dress! Duh."

Em's eyes scanned over Coco's dress, confusion marring her features as she looked back at the woman's face, "what about it?"

"Not this one!" Coco exclaimed, rolling her eyes, "the purple one… well… the purpler one. I asked Mallory and she had no idea what to do but I saw you out here once with —"

"Coco," Em said, voice like a teacher trying to get a rowdy student to sit in their seat, "what do you want?"

"Can you mend my dress?" Coco grabbed on to one of Em's hands as she begged, "There's a giant hole in my armpit and my interview with Langdon is in an hour. I swear I'll put in a good word with him for you!"

Em pried her hand away from the woman and resisted the urge to groan. Taking a deep breath she weighed her choices. Finally, she let out a sigh, resigning herself to her fate and trying to be as nice as possible.

"I guess I have nothing better to do."

A grin spread across Coco's face and she took her hand once more, hardly giving Em a chance to lock her door before dragging her along. Coco was only nice when she wanted something. Em logically knew that. Yet, somehow, the girl reminded her of an old friend, rambling about this, that, and everything as she tugged her along to god knows where. If she stared at the back of Coco's head for a moment she could pretend the blonde hair belonged to someone else.

Em quickly threw the trail of thought away. Last thing she needed was Coco spreading a story about how she cried over the woman's pathetic attempts at being a decent human being.

Coco threw open the door to her room and quickly shoved the garment into Em's hand, shattering whatever illusion of kindness she had briefly created. "Here!"

"What side?" Em sighed, turning the garment around in her hands.

The blonde looked up as she thought, raising one arm, then the other as if recalling the exact moment it ripped.

"Never mind," Em droned, "I found it."

The hole was quite large, probably due to its poor fitting. It wasn't as if they had someone take their measurements before they arrived at the outpost. It reached from the armpit to halfway between the sleeve and the waistline. Coco had gotten lucky, the tear following the natural stitching of the garment.

"Do you have a needle and thread?" Em asked, Coco hovering over her shoulder as she examined the damage.

"Do I look like I mend my own clothes?"

The brunette sighed once more, "get a Grey to bring me something, then."

"Don't you have your own tools or something?" Coco scoffed.

Em rose her eyes to look at the spoiled brat.

"When's your interview?"

Coco huffed and went out into the hall, leaving the door open so the other woman would be sure to hear her stomping. For a moment there was glorious silence, Em examining the inside of the dress to figure out how to sew it up. After a few moments, a figure caught her eye and she looked up at the doorway.

Gallant stood, leaning against the frame with a box in one hand.

"What's she having you do for her?" he asked.

"Mending clothes," Em sighed, holding up the dress, "you here for her hair?"

"Yup," Gallant said with a pop, moving to set up in the room, "Don't know how many more miracles I can pull in that department."

"A comment on your lack of supplies or an insult to Coco?"

The man paused, turning back towards her as he eyes the ceiling in thought, "Both?"

They could hear Coco's stomping before they could see her, the woman appearing in the doorway with a scowl.

"Here's your supplies," she snapped before turning to Gallant. She mouthed something Em couldn't hear, but Gallant's silent response was comically easy to read as he mouthed the words "I know."

Wearing a plastic smile she had learned from customer service, Em took the needle and thread from Coco's hand and pulled out what she needed from the spool.

"Did you get scissors?" Em asked as she looked around.

"No."

Regretting her decision to help, the brunette turned to Gallant.

"Uh-uh," He said, shaking a finger in front of him, "no way."

"Just do it!" Coco snapped, falling back into a seat before her vanity.

With the grace of a sulking toddler, Gallant made his way towards Em, reluctantly cutting the thread. His frown persisted as he went back to deal with Coco's hair.

"You owe me," He grumbled. Em couldn't tell if the statement was directed at herself or Coco.

"Did they ever figure out what caused that power out earlier?" Coco asked Gallant, the two quickly creating their own little bubble of which Em was not a part of. Not that she cared.

"Probably just some minor glitch," Gallant dismissed, obviously not losing sleep over the issue.

"That's hardly reassuring. My father paid millions to get us in here. You'd think they'd at least be able to keep it running smoothly."

Gallant rose his hands, giving Coco a look in the mirror, "Don't shoot the messenger."

Coco didn't even hear him, going on some random tirade Em quickly tuned out. What she wouldn't do for a pair of noise-proof headphones.

Both Gallant and Em went into a trace as they worked. Em remembered when she was little and wanted to be a fashion designer, herself and another friend spending their elementary school lunchtime drawing out designs. Her grandmother had been more than happy to teach Em how to use her old and outdated sowing machine. Childlike enthusiasm led to it breaking. In the end, her grandmother was only able to teach her a few things before she passed… most of them with a needle, thread, and her own hands.

"Are you almost finished?" Coco demanded, pulling Em out of her train of thought as she paced the room like an angry chicken. Gallant followed after her, trying to keep his masterpiece in place. "He can't finish until you're finished."

Em paid her no mind, turning back to her work and maintaining her steady pace, "do you want this to look like it was patched together by a drunken child?"

Coco huffed and stalked back to her seat, much to the relief of Gallant.

"I have twenty minutes…" she continued to complain.

"And the walk down the hallway takes five." Em reminded.

Gallant was content to wait. He'd worked on models before back when he was first making his break and he was well used to clothing mishaps. Coco, on the other hand, glared daggers at Em as she worked. If she was being honest, Em quite enjoyed annoying the woman. It was comically easy to test just how spoiled she truly was.

Fifteen minutes passed and Em finally finished the last stitch, knotting the end a few times to keep it in place.

"Finally!" Coco exclaimed, not waiting for the pair to leave before changing. It wasn't as if there was much to expose. Victorian undergarments were infinitely more modest than modern swimsuits. As soon as the dress was over her head, Gallant did a few last adjustments to her hair.

"Fini?" Coco asked, staring at the man as he focused on one stray strand. One would think he was diffusing a bomb given the intensity he looked at hair when working. Finally, he nodded and Coco was gone from the room in an instant without a single word of thanks.

"She's a mess," Gallant sighed, turning back to pack up his things.

"For once we agree on something."

"Why did you agree to do this?" he asked, waving a comb as he continued to pack up, "aren't you usually holed up in the library?"

"Bored."

Gallant chuckled, "Fair."

Rolling the loose thread back around the spool, Em made her way back to her room. Without the outside distraction, something to focus on, her mind went back to its earlier worries. She felt like she was staring at a brick wall, wondering how to tear it down when her only tools were her own two hands. If she got to the other side… maybe then she could find something.

Movement caught her eye as she turned a corner, looking up to find Langdon holding the door open for Coco. Something stirred in her chest and she turned away and kept walking before it could fester. Her cheeks warmed as she felt eyes burning into the side of her head.

Emotions were far too stressful. That's why she liked logic. She just had to focus on the logic. Then she'd be safe.


There was nothing like the impending doom of death to make people do anything to chase away anxiety. Even after a solemn vow to never play the game again, they had brought their make-shift Pictionary once more. Bits of extra paper and a whiteboard from the Grey's common area used to draw upon.

"Oh! Cats the musical!" Coco yelled out as Andre drew, "Horny!"

Timothy kept an eye on his pocket watch, finally looking up as he called time.

"Rosemary's Baby!" Andre shouted at Coco, circling the spikes at the top of the head he was drawing, "They're horns!"

Coco huffed and waved a hand as she fell back in her sleep, grabbing her water and taking a drink as Timothy's eyes returned to his watch.

"Okay! He announced, "Emily and Emily!"

Em got up and reached into the box of folded cards, looking at the words written. Her lips twisted as she thought about how to approach it.

"Ready?" Timothy asked. Em nodded. "Go!"

Rapidly, Em drew a caricature on the white-board as Emily leaned forward in her seat.

"Dolly Parton!" Emily shouted after a few moments. Em threw down the pencil in victory, a large grin on her face.

"No fair!" Coco bemoaned, gesturing to the pair, "you have fucking Da Vinci on your team."

"I was on your team last time." Em reminded.

"That was ages ago!"

Em's eyes flitted up to the balcony which loomed over the salon, a familiar figure in black catching her eye. The glow of the fire made it seem like his hair was made of gold. He leaned on the railing like a content cat watching the mice play.

She pretended she hadn't noticed him but could feel his eyes on her back, the hairs on her neck standing on end as the buzzing feeling began to return.

"Okay, Timmy," Gallant declared, rising from his seat to take the board from Em, "our time to shine."

Her focus on the man watching them was interrupted by Timothy tossing her his pocket watch. If not for the way it caught the light Em would have let it drop.

When she looked up Langdon was gone as if he were a shadow instead of a man.