Talk to Emily

You open the door to the stables, nodding at the sheriff. Aayesha tips her hat subtly in return acknowledging your disbandment.

Emily is shoveling some shit away from the only horse in the building. The horse is big and brown. It's quite imposing, and it carries itself in a very coldly aggressive way.

Emily's round fluffy ears perk up from her disheveled auburn hair as she sees you. As she sees you she cocks a half-smile, moving her freckles in perfect formation across her tanned skin. Her brown eyes exudes a form of homely warmth as they connect to yours.

"You're out and about, I see." she smiles: "And clothed and everything."

"Yeah. Claire lend me some of her parents' rags." you reply monotonously.

"It looks good on you." she says.

"Thanks." you casually shrug. The conversation dies out a bit and you just both stand awkwardly not saying anything, while Emily holds a shovel full of dung.

"Anything you wanted to tell me?" she asks tilting her head slightly. Lots actually. And at the same time nothing. A deep-seated confusion of yourself and your intentions and goals have ruminated in your mind ever since you've met her. You don't really know how to express any of it.

"I'm sorry." is the only thing you manage to muster.

"For what?" she asks genuinely unsure.

"For throwing a bowl at you." you state.

"Oh... thank you." she looks down at the shovel. You can see her face distort into a sort of uncomfortable grimace. Her freckles slightly fade in her cheeks as they weirdly grow redder. Another awkward pause. You take it upon yourself to restart it yourself.

"You know that you don't use a shovel for that, right?" you point out. Emily looks at you surprised.

"Really? You don't use a shovel to 'shovel' dung? C'mon Jess." she sarcastically retorts.

You point to a metal pronged contraption with a wooden handle: "You see that thing next to the barrel of manure that has prongs for grabbing, and which obviously has stains of shit still on it?"

"..."

"..."

"I was supposed to use that, wasn't I?" she rhetorically sighs. Her shoulders slump in defeat, and her grip on the shovel loosens to the point that it falls to the ground clinking as the metal handle clashes into the stone tiles.

You look at her tired expression and something inside of you bubbles and swells. You would try to suppress it, but before you're even aware of what you're doing... you laugh. Something about this city girl with all of her medical knowledge and general expertise being defeated by a simple shovel and a mound of manure is just inherently funny.

Emily looks at you like she is seeing someone in pain.

"Are you laughing?" she asks.

"Yeah, is that a problem?" you retort.

"No, I have just never heard you do it."

You immediately stop. Your shoulders slump slightly. You sigh breathily.

"You have a nice laugh." she compliments you: "It's hearty. It fills a room... it really suits you."

"...Thanks." you hesitate.

"I wish you'd do it more." she answers, her tone painted in a slight tinge of sadness.

"Me too." you admit. You look down at the ground.

"So why don't you?" she tilts her head and asks.

"You've been almost killed by orcs, almost killed by a big ass scorpion, almost killed by the desert climate, and almost killed by a gang of kobolds and a gargoyle. You've seen savagery, barbarianism, ruthless killing, and a young woman losing her parents needlessly. I think you've been exposed to the elements enough to realize that there is not a lot to laugh at out here." you argue.

"Then why don't you leave?" she asks: "There is a horse here... an unruly one, certainly... but nothing you can't handle I'm sure. I'll look the other way. Tell the sheriff I was careless, and it ran away."

"This is still my home." you answer: "Plus I have some unfinished business."

"I though survival was the only thing that mattered." Emily quips. Her smug grin signaling that she knows that she has caught you contradicting yourself. You choose to get out of it by not acknowledging it.

"There is something about the gang attack that bothers me." you say. You see Emily's face instantly snap back to a more solemn concentrating demeanor. "The bandits traveled to the middle of nowhere just to get to Farah. Also that gargoyle woman was no pushover, and she is no fool either. There is a bigger picture here. This wasn't a random act of ****. This was planned."

Emily nods thoughtfully.

"I need to talk to Farah and the gargoyle tomorrow." you conclude: "Meanwhile there is something I'd like to discuss with you."

Emily cocks an eyebrow: "And that is?"

"I don't want you to sleep in the shed." you say curtly.

"Oh, do you have any plans for it?" she asks.

"No, but it's unprotected. If back-up arrives for the kobold gang, you'd be at risk." you point out.

"Are you worried about me?" she teases.

"I'm worried about losing the only member of this town with medical training." you shoot back.

Emily just rolls her eyes in response.

"Where do you think I should sleep then? All of the empty houses are burnt to a crisp."

"There is enough room in my bed for the two of us." you shrug.

"Even if Claire is there as well?" the smug grin comes back. You refuse to acknowledge it again.

"Yeah, even if Claire needs comfort as well." you reply nonchalantly.

"...Ok" she replies, realizing that you don't want to engage this conversation in that way.

"Are you comfortable with that?" you ask monotonously.

"Yeah..." she sighs.

"Are you sure?" you try to reaffirm: "I don't know if you heard the conversation Claire and I had, but... I'm not exactly the most virtuous person out there."

"Yeah, I heard it. You were a teenager when that happened. You were indoctrinated to a violent lifestyle." she nods.

"**** is just a tool." you shrug.

"A tool you used before anything else. I know diplomacy is sparse out here, but that doesn't mean you have to live this way." she argues.

You don't argue back. You're kind of sick of arguing and justifying your previous lifestyle. These people are too stubborn to compromise.

"I'll make my rounds before dinner. I'll see you later tonight." you wave.

"Your rounds?" she asks.

"Well, that's part of what it means to be a deputy." you explain matter-of-factly.

"You're a... what?" she asks in wild disbelief. You cock a half smile.

"It's just temporary, and it pays like shit, but I ne-" your explanation is cut off by a very loud noise.

A very familiar noise.

A gunshot.