Moema looked up from the latest reports from Steinman. He was becoming so sloppy... She couldn't help but wonder just what substance he happened to abuse... Alcohol? It seemed most likely. He even smelled of it by the end of the day. Though, yesterday, while he was in Surgery, she went into his office and found his stash. She proceeded to fill up a portion with water and swirled it into the alcoholic beverage. Maybe she could wean him off of it without him knowing? It definitely wouldn't hurt to try.

Regardless of all of that, she looked up to find Ryan shutting her office door behind himself. "Mr. Ryan. This is a surprise indeed. How might I help you?"

He moved to sit across from her and glanced around her very organized office, "You know, Steinman isn't even half as organized as you!" Moema could only nod. He finally turned to look at her, "I've been shown some interesting footage from various security cameras and reports from the workers who operate the Bathyspheres..."

"Oh? What about?" she asked, setting her pen down and putting away her files.

"Frank Fontaine and a few other men carrying a bloodied citizen to your apartment door." he states with a very serious look on his face and curiously dangerous glint in his eyes. "Care to comment?"

Moema blinks a moment before taking a deep breath. "Of course, Mr. Ryan. Frank brought me one of his workers, a man named Atlas. He happened to be severely wounded-"

"Why not bring him here, to the Medical Pavilion?" scoffs Ryan, crossing one leg over the other.

"Mr. Ryan." begins Moema. "I am not sure if you have noticed, but the lower workers have no money to pay the high fees of this Pavilion. He would have died or his family would have starved." Ryan scoffs, but Moema carries on, "He would never have gone here, so I'm not taking business away. It's my time that I give, my knowledge and expertise-"

"What is this Atlas' condition?" presses Ryan.

"He's staying where I can keep an eye on him-"

"What!" barks Ryan, earning a very shocked look from Moema, "Is his condition?"

"... He's alive... For now." she finally answered, frowning at him.

"Have you an idea of what happened to him?"

She leans back before speaking, "In my experience, the wound inflicted upon Atlas resembles a nearly point-blank shot to the back. Nothing vital was hit-" she stops as he stands and goes for the door. "Mr. Ryan... Before you leave..."

"Good work Doctor Suera. Keep it up." states Ryan as he leaves, earning a very dark glare.

Moema was seated across from Frank, her legs crossed and one hand resting near her mouth. Frank swigged down the last of his whiskey and eyed the young woman across from him. "What's eatin' you?" When Moema didn't seem to respond, he knocked on the table, "Ema." that startled her into looking over at him, "What's goin' on with you?"

Her eyes darted around in realization that she was at Kashmir with Frank. "Oh," she sighed and settled her gaze to his, "Nothing."

A waitress set another glass in front of Frank before taking the old one, leaving Frank to take a sip and point at Moema with the one hand that held the glass. "Now who's lying?" she offered a rather forced smirk before looking back out at the small crowd. "What's wrong?"

"... Do you think they realize?" she asks quietly.

The confusion on Franks face went missed by Moema. She surely would have laughed. "What are you talkin' about, Moema?"

She looked back at him again, "Do you?"

For a moment, all he can do is stare. What kind of answer is she looking for? He blows out some air, puffing his cheeks before shaking his head, "I dunno. Depends on what the hell yer talkin' 'bout?" Her head turned to continue staring at the upper-class of Rapture, leaving Frank to shake his head again.

"I'm talking about how these people live while the people working their asses off can barely feed their children, much less themselves. These people have nice new clothes, they get to partake in art, fine items, fine furniture... They dance, they gossip, they sneer..." she shakes her head this time, "I shouldn't have come down here..."

Frank can't explain it, but that hollow admission irked him. "I think I might get offended..."

"Don't be so shallow, Frank. You know as well as I... Rapture is going to be just like top-side cities." she finally looks away and turns to sit correctly. Her untouched drink finally gets sipped at.

"Whatever this rut you're in is, get out of it, and fast, Ema." Frank says quite seriously, pointing at her once more. "I don't like you like this."

A rough scoff comes from Ema, "Well excuse me for being a human being, Frank."

"You know that's not what I meant." he barks. "The hell is wrong with you tonight?"

"Ryan barged into my office earlier." that wiped the agitated look from Frank's face. "He's a real piece of work."

"What he want?"

"To ask - if you can call that asking - about you and the guys bringing Atlas to me the other night. I mean, what..." her hands fly out in a partial shrug, "It's been four, five days since then?" she scoots closer to the table and leans her elbows on it to point at the table, "He barges in and starts asking in this... Accusatory manner about just what the hell you were doing bringing some dying guy to my apartment. And when I try to explain some things to him, he fuckin' shouts at me!" she clenches her pointing hand and clenches her jaw as she looks down. Cursing... It was something she tried very hard not to do.

A rough hand covered her fist, causing her to look up, "He yelled at you?"

"He kept asking what Atlas' condition was, so I wanted to explain a sort of circumstance about the issue - I figured he was concerned about why some of the citizens couldn't go to the Pavilion... He then had the audacity to shout the question at me again..." she shook her head, "I wanted to strangle him for his... Behavior."

"What did you tell 'im?"

"That Atlas was alive." she grimaced at the recollection. "He then asked if I knew what happened to Atlas. I told him that his wound best resembled a shot to the back. Then, while I was trying to discuss the safety of the lower class with him, he just left... Like he didn't even care..." she shook her head again, "Who the hell does he think he is? A society doesn't work well unless those in the lowest parts work well..."

Frank watched Moema a long moment. "I wanna open up an orphanage... For the daughters of Rapture." That caught Moema's attention.

"Why?"

"Ema..." Frank scoffs, "Why do you always do that?"

She rolls her eyes, "You haven't dealt with rich white men as an outcast, Frank. Men like you always have ulterior motives for the so-called charities you do..."

He shifts, "Can you just once take me at my word?"

Her head tilts challengingly, "And what word would that be?" she leaned closer, "The word where you won't tell me what you've frightened Maiara with? The word I know you're hiding, tucked far away? Hm? What word should I take you at?"

Frank groaned, "You really do this here?"

Moema shook her head, "I need some time to myself. Thanks for the drink." she states, gently flicking the still practically full long-island. Standing, she gathered her purse and left. Frank just shook his head.