Family Trees


corbin_icon.gif dumortier_icon.gif emily3_icon.gif

Also featuring:


Scene Title Family Trees
Synopsis While chasing down possible leads for the Baldwin/Thornton cases, Corbin and Emily question an agrokinetic on the matter of trees. The conversation then branches unexpectedly.
Date December 3, 2019


The settlement of Providence seems just as uninviting as it was the first time Emily came here. It's been almost a year, and though there's still some leaves clinging to certain trees, the air feels much the same as then. Crisp, sharp, like there's eyes everywhere that you can't see.

It's not a friendly place to be when you're unwelcome.

The young woman has followed along behind Corbin quietly as they've gone from house to house, knocking and being turned away. Someone they came across on the road directly told them to just keep driving rather than give any other reply. The people here already have had SESA knock on their doors twice this year, and they're unaccommodating this third time too. At least no one draws a weapon on them. The entire time Emily feels compelled to keep an eye out behind them regardless, wondering if they'll run into one of Eileen's armed men on the road.

She doesn't know any different to know they aren't Eileen's men anymore.

Emily and Corbin come up on a homestead rather than a house— the structure more simple. It's old, done by hand, and by her estimation has probably been in the family for generations. She's close to giving up this hunt, the urge to apologize to Corbin strong. She could have sworn she met Rene Dumortier in passing at the corn maze near Providence earlier in the fall, but Providence was only so large and they'd not found him yet.

She looks up when the door swings in and Corbin introduces himself. The man who answers the door is wary but more amenable than anyone else they've met, dressed in dated attire. He hears them out when no one else would, and with a compassionate frown, finally nods and gives them the answer they've been seeking.

No wonder they've not run into Dumortier in looking in town. He lives off-road.

Way off-road.

Creekside Cabin

The car rumbles up the gravel road leading up to the cabin along the creek almost unsteadily, the uneven ground assuring they can’t go much faster and certainly not any quieter than they are — which is to say, not at all. Emily leans forward as they near the standalone structure in the woods, mindful of the green that seems to persist here despite the turning of the weather. It’s a small detail, but growth has unquestionably clung on past its due date all around the cabin. To her, it leaves no question they’re in the right place.

“50/50 some Whomping Willow bullshit starts in a second,” she murmurs while she looks up at the trees, affirming she thinks they’re in the right place at least.

For a moment, it seems like Corbin either didn’t get the joke, or missed it entirely as he looks out the window frowning slightly. It didn’t seem likely someone who lived all the way out here would have done any of what they had seen with that tree in Jackson Heights. He quietly hoped the man would just give an alibi and leave it at that, but he also wanted to check it out. They only had so many possible suspects, after all. People who could do things with trees who had a history of violence weren’t common.

“Oh, right, Whomping Willow. Hopefully, there are no werewolves hiding under it at the full moon,” he offers after a moment, smiling at the intern he’s been dragging around on this case. He’s been reviewing her work very carefully as they go, and she’d done good in the questioning of the private investigator as far as he had heard. Maybe she’d give a good showing here, as well. “I’ll take the lead, but ask any questions that come to mind. You have a good head on your shoulders. And keep an eye out, too.”

For anything.

With that, he opens his car door and steps outside. They had made enough noise to announce their presence, but he looked toward the door, calling out in a firm voice, “Hello?”

He didn’t look afraid, standing confidently by the driver’s side door.

Green clings on, though only so much; still, where the trees surrounding the grove are already skeletal, fall leaves still teeter from these branches, and in preparation for winter the mossy parts of the forest floor have bulged and protected it. The ground is soft in places, cushioned underfoot once anyone cares to step from the path. Winter's grasp is stayed, but it will come nonetheless. It is the number of evergreens that look the most fat and happy, if trees could be so. Animals chitter amongst the shelter of those branches.

No werewolves, or womping willows. Not yet. There is, however, a set of eyes on them, from around the corner of the cottage. Not human, but equine. Arrius has poked his giant head out of the stableform built off the back of the cabin, blinking silently, ears forward.

But that's all the house gives them.

"Hello." Corbin's greeting is instead met by a voice at their nine o'clock. Dumortier lingers at the edge of his clearing, one hand holding the feet of a very dead rabbit, the other perched on the sling of a pack. He stares at his visitors just a breath longer, then makes his way to the trodden path in front of his house to face them. The mugshot wasn't far off in capturing his natural intensity, even in spite of his short…comings.

"Wait, let me guess. Feds?" Close. Rene's other guess was Raytech, but they seem not quite casual enough. Dumortier's voice is far more pleasant than his tone is. "Didn't we already go over this fucking explosion business?"

Emily glances at Corbin over the top of the car as she closes the door. Explosion? she wonders with that look. Details about what happened in the Black Forest were way above her paygrade, so to speak, and she'd missed tell of it in the news. Her brow knits briefly before she looks back to Rene. He definitely was the man she remembered seeing, if a little (read: much) more brusque when he wasn't playing tug of war with a rogue corgi mutt.

"We're with SESA," the young woman confirms confidently; a little less so as she adds: "But we're not here about any explosion."

"Are you Rene Dumortier?" Emily asks, trying to not sound a 'yes' would be followed with something inconvenient, like being served.

He’s too handsome to be a problem,” purrs a voice only Corbin Ayers can hear, whispering at the back of his neck as a pair of red-clad arms drape over his shoulders from behind, fingers lacing at his collarbones. “But I guess the handsome ones always are the most trouble.

Hokuto Ichihara rests her chin on Corbin’s shoulder, dark brows raised and yellow eyes angles at Dumortier inspectingly. “He has sad dreams sometimes, but his heart is in the right place. More than can be said of some of the people here.” Partly lidding her eyes, Hokuto looks across the way to Emily. “You don't want to know what hers are like.

“His pictures didn’t even do him justice, amazingly,” Corbin murmurs in quiet response to someone. Someone only he can really see or hear, but at least he’s learned to try and make it sound like he’s muttering to himself so his coworkers don’t think he’s crazy (er) than he already seems with all his eclectic personality quirks. Sometimes he’s better at it than others. At least he doesn’t jump when she suddenly appears and purrs in his ear anymore.

“They never do,” is Hokuto’s simple, silken reply.

Or runs her fingers down his collarbone. Any chill he has is just the wind, really. It is almost winter now.

After a second, he nods, agreeing with what Emily had said and giving her a small smile as if he’s pleased with her (no matter her dreams) and says more loudly than the murmur, using his outside voice, “We’re here about something other than the explosion. We just wanted to ask some questions that might be in your particular area of expertise.” As he says that, he flips open his badge so that it’s visible, keeping the rest of his hands clear of his body.

They’d read the history of this particular agrokinetic.

Emily's stating who they really are is something that really has Dumortier's brow raising. He keeps the two in sight as he moves towards the house to hang up his quarry at the door.

Not the explosion. Something else. Fine, then. The young man's aura softens just a tiiiny bit. The irritation leaves him, anyway.

"So if SESA is here about my expertise, you must be digging hard." There is a note of humor there, as he steps forward and beckons Corbin closer to meet halfway. Hand out to inspect his badge. Distrust hasn't gone away, replaced marginally by guardedness and interest. "Ayers? Do you have any family out this way?"

Rene wouldn't mention it unless there was a reason. Crystal blue eyes narrow when they search Corbin's features, then a glance to Emily. Must be a newbie… as smirk flickers over soft lips, a glimmer of something sharper.

"… Alright. You've got me curious."

Curious will do. Emily takes that as a cue they're safe to continue, taking a step away from the vehicle to get closer as well. She glances at Corbin, wondering at him for a moment. Does he have family out this way? Or maybe it's for the left-field comment about Rene's looks. It hardly seems an appropriate time for that. She slides her hands into the pockets of her peacoat, chin barely visible over the top of the bright red knitted scarf looped around her neck and stuffed down into the top of her coat.

"Consider it mutual," she replies quietly to Dumortier. "We'd like to ask you if you're familiar with any other agrokinetics in the area, between here and the New York Safe Zone. Specifically, anyone specializing in accelerated arboreal growth." The blue of her eyes are sharp while she studies the agrokinetic, her posture still at a quarter turn to Corbin in a silent echo of whatever he adds as much as to seek his guidance on anything else that should be added to that. She's not sure how much they're supposed or allowed to say about the why behind being here, even after the other interview with Liza.

Hokuto’s red clad silhouette drifts away from Corbin, invites herself past Emily sight-unseen, and comes to stand unnoticed beside Dumortier. One dark brow rises, catlike yellow eyes assess him with thoughtful contemplation. She isn’t here for the investigation, even though she used to be good at them. Back when this was a more corporeal partnership.

“Ask him what he meant,” Hokuto suggests to Corbin, leaning in toward Dumortier and partly lidding her eyes as she regards him side-long, “about having family up this way.” Questions about agrokinetics have her interest with less attention than tangible things like family do.

They had specifically picked this agrokinetic because of their background, but after recent findings by the other group on the case, there were now doubts. It could still be someone who controlled plants, though, they could just do so in a different way than what most people considered controlling plants. “Also if you’ve come into contact with any trees that you couldn’t control recent days,” Corbin offers quietly, adding to Emily’s line of questioning a little, but then he gets distracted looking toward— well— nothing as far as they could see. He hadn’t missed the comment, he had just shaken his head a little in response to it, but…

“What do you mean asking about my having family?” he asks, looking back toward the much too good-looking plant controller with a criminal record. “My family are all dead, as far as I know. My mom and sister both died in the original Bomb of 2006— and my father and brother’s family all died during the war.” Much like many people in those terrible years, he had lost most everything. His ex-wife was still alive, but he knew she had stopped using his name a long time ago, and last time he checked she lived in Detroit, which wasn’t in these parts.

Emily gets right to it, as Emilys do, though Dumortier only looks to her once she mentions arboretum. Both hands move to his hips, looking from agent to agent. A pinch in his brow seems to follow Corbin's slightly wandering gaze, but past a casual glance over his shoulder- - ghosting nose-to-nose with a woman he'll never see- - he doesn't comment.

"Besides me?" A laugh moves from the other blonde's chest at Emily, and he seems all too satisfied about it. It's nice to be 'wanted'. Before he addresses any more questions on his kinsmen, Rene brushes back flyaways with one palm, the other turning out. "Chris Ayers is an asshole, but I trust him."

"If you're from here, though… He did come with us from out West, so who the hell knows. We're all from everywhere now anyway." Maybe it's also a little funny to him that there's a gubmint man at his door with the same name.

"As for other agrokinetics…" Blue eyes take in Emily again, as Dumortier refocuses on the reason they're here. "There's Dequan, but he's a Harvest guy. One or two others like that… There's a lady somewhere in Park Slope, but I haven't met her personally. And whoever the fuck else is making that place live again. It's a good resource… I believe Raytech has one working there, but that's hydroponics isn't it? I try to do my homework." Given his background, that itself is unsurprising.

"Couldn't control? No. I haven't had trouble." Rene is, however, further intrigued, and it shows in the glimmer on his face. "I know plenty of them don't choose to work with dead or decayed matter, so they'd probably not know how to handle that. They can tell its dead, but something decayed might fit the bill. Between worlds, you know?" A short pause, and he adds with a bit of cringe, "I've seen that councilwoman but fuck if I'm getting close enough to see how she qualifies."

Emily's expression becomes troubled for just a moment when Dumortier says other agrokinetics might have trouble when dealing with dead things. Knowing what they do about what's inside the trees…

Instead of making an immediate comment, Emily looks away back to Corbin and this tangent that's growing in the conversation. She mostly waits for his reaction. Is Chris a name that sounds familiar?

She thinks to herself Corbin might be right, that his brother might well be dead. But if he came through with Eileen, maybe he hadn't been dead somewhere else. That's not the sort of suggestion you make to a federal agent about an aspect of reality you shouldn't know about, though, so she opts for polite silence instead. Maybe it conveys enough about what she means for it to— she's looking to him for where the conversation should go next.

Hokuto’s expression in Corbin’s peripheral vision is a cipher. If she knew about Chris she's never led on as much. Instead, she steps in time with the movement of the conversation, gliding along on bare feet behind Corbin and then out of his field of vision. “This one isn't a killer,” says someone who was one to know one. “But in an untamed garden,” her voice creeps up the back of his neck as a whisper, “doesn't it make sense to hire a gardner?”

When Hokuto re-emerges around the other side of Corbin, she lays a hand on his shoulder and squares her attention on Emily for a few long moments. When yellow eyes flick back to Corbin, he can tell Hokuto has seen or felt something. But her demure smile hides any intent.

“I think you’re right,” Corbin murmurs softly under his breath as he looks on. He’s really keeping an eye on Hokuto without actually looking at her since often times when he looks directly at her she disappears, which means he’s looking at Dumortier. The words could have been for either, or both, because after a moment he continues, voice a little louder, “My brother had a son named Chris, he’d be in his twenties, now, and last I heard they had been out west.” He had actually helped them get out there after the Company fell apart, he had been worried that the Institute would use his family to track him down and get some of the information he had absconded with, if they figured out about it, at least.

But as for the other thing that his soft words could mean…

“We have a case in the Safe Zone that may or may not involve someone with a similar ability to yours. In one of our recent investigations, we found that another agrokinetic, one of the ones who lives in the Park, can’t control the trees that are of interest to us. If you’d be willing, it would be helpful to have an agrokinetic of your experience on our side in this investigation.” He had actually thought of trying to find one who might have a COM status, get them to work with them, but—

Why not? He agreed with Hokuto. This one didn’t seem like a killer. Even with his history.

While Dumortier mentioned it on a whim, perhaps he wasn't really expecting an answer leading to something interesting. He squints back at Corbin when he speaks up, putting a mental note down to see if he wants to share anything more- - later. After he gets the measure of the agent, that is. Already getting a strange vibe from him, but that's certainly not a dealbreaker.

Eh. There's been worse.

Finally, as more details are shared, Rene chances a few steps closer, hands light on his hips and eyes narrowed in passive scrutiny. The look is mostly trained on Corbin, a glance for Emily every so often as if to question if she has anything to add.

"So there's something going on with trees. The woman in the Garden can't help you. You must be really desperate, or you thought that I might have something do to with it. Whatever 'it' is." Both arms lift and cross in front of ribcage, small frame taking on a punkish posture. "And given my background, I'm leaning on one of those." Dumortier's mouth curves up in a deceptively dainty smile.

"What's your budget look like?"

Both strains of this conversation are equally interesting, but Emily's attention snaps back to Corbin when he says his family had been out West. His brother and his boy, Chris, gone West… a man named Chris Ayers, here, who had come from the West…

Okay, that sounded a little too coincidental.

In the aspiration to not stare openly, the young woman looks just off of Corbin while her gaze sharpens, unwittingly giving Hokuto a hard look. Until Dumortier starts asking about compensation. Then, that look shifts, brows arching. Is he serious right now?

"Little early to be asking about that, isn't it?" Emily challenges. He might not look like a killer, but a swindler? He looks like someone fully capable of pulling a fast one.

Hokuto’s red-clad silhouette passes by Emily and comes to stand behind Dumortier, or so her projection living inside of Corbin’s head is seen as. She drapes herself over Dumortier, arms around his shoulders, her nose near his cheekbones. She sniffs, as cats are wont to do, then unwinds herself and leans away, making a meandering path back to Corbin sight unseen and unfelt by the others, since that whole display — since she herself — exists in one man’s memory.

“It isn’t about trees,” Hokuto says in a husky voice by Corbin’s side, “but it is approaching the holidays.” She lays a hand on Corbin’s arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Maybe you should visit family on Christmas?” She opines, slipping behind Corbin.

“Isn’t that the spirit of Christmas?” Corbin can hear Hokuto say, even though he can’t see her anymore.

“I can see what’s in the budget for a consultation,” Corbin responds absently as if he’s only half-listening to the conversation. In fact, he’s looking off into nothing again, something that Emily is very used to by now, probably. “We’ll have to get you a COM rating on a legal registration to actually pay you, too.” He’s not sure that this man wants to be Registered, or get a COM rank just so he can work legally, but when one wants to get paid by the government, they need to fill out all the paperwork. “That’s all up to you.”

As Hokuto’s voice fades, and he loses sight of her in the corner of his eyes, his eyes close for a moment, as if he’s taking a second to breathe. “But until you decide, maybe you could tell me where I can find Chris,” he states, opening his eyes again and looking at the man who he had found a little too attractive not too long ago. This time he seems more here, which he is. His favorite distraction has faded to wherever it is she goes when she’s not with him.

He could always plan this for another day, but how often does someone find out the family they thought was dead might actually not have been? It was a coincidence, but he’d come to realize that sometimes those did actually happen.

And he’s sure some cheesy movie would consider it a Christmas miracle.

All that Dumortier gives Emily is a small roll of a shoulder, a shrug of looking unbothered by asking for compensation. Money makes the world go 'round, that hasn't changed. For now he's also grown accustomed to the odd twitches of Corbin's gaze, pushing it to the back of his mind as some sort of tic. Anyone can have those.

The specification of needing a COM tag has him crossing his arms, tongue poking against cheek as he considers the facts. Registering for just a consultation fee is one thing. But they do already know of him thanks to his record. Just not the details.

"I'll tell you where." Rene starts. There's a chance he might be ready to say something vulgar. He doesn't. Thank God. "I'll tell you on good faith and then you'll tell me exactly why you need someone like me. Details, ami." He is clearly weighing his options, which is far more than he was dangling before. "If you don't want to share I'll just find out on my own."

"Start at the old factory outside Providence. You probably know the one? He's one of the militia staying there. I think he might have another place but I don't know where. I just know I can usually find him with the others from out west. He's a shithead most of the time, but I trust him." For someone like Dumortier to say that, probably carries some weight in his way of life.

Emily is lacking for a reaction until the militia is mentioned, brow lifting before she can stop the subtle reaction. She looks to Corbin and then back to Dumortier, tongue bit to prevent from passing comment. They probably shouldn’t head out there, she wants to say, but that can wait until they’re not in present company. Maybe.

She lacks for an answer to Dumortier’s barter, as well— either from her sudden tongue-tie or because she believes that’s something Corbin is best suited to answer being up for him to decide.

With a small nod, Corbin absorbs the information about where to find Chris, taking even pulling out his phone to make a few notes, before he looks back up and considers. They hadn’t released much of the information to the public yet, to avoid a panic, to avoid people randomly poking holes in trees. They had put a stop on some construction and tree removal, but otherwise, they didn’t need to cause a panic until they knew for sure what they were dealing with.

But the man had a point. It would be a big commitment to register and get a COM rating to get paid to do work, so he deserved at least the brief. And might need to know it to understand.

“A few weeks ago, we found a body in a tree. And a couple of weeks later, we found a second one. There’s a possibility there might be more out there that we haven’t found yet, and the one thing we know so far is that the second tree didn’t respond to an agrokinetic.” He had considered getting her to help, too, and maybe still would. “We’re hoping those are the only two, but even if you don’t want to register, if you find one that turns out to be a lead, we could give you a reward for the tip.”

They just wouldn’t be able to pay him for searching, or reimburse him for travel costs and staying in the Safe Zone or anything.

He’s no longer quite as distracted. He can’t go see Chris until after this conversation. And he doesn’t have a ghost floating around on the edge of his periphery.

Inside? Something about just the single detail itself seems to have his attention. Sharp blue eyes focus on the agents, and a tilt of his head seems birdlike. Tiny raptor, not songbird.

If the first of his kin couldn't do it… Maybe they just didn't have the touch? Or maybe it's just not what it looks like?

"I don't know about the one you had looking," Dumortier slinks closer, brows pinched in a clearly fascinated stare. His admissions are carefully weaved around possible implications, voice edging on alluring rather than threatening like before. "But… my gifts can be a little different. For instance… I can generate growth… And in places most couldn't. Bring things back from decay and death… Take it all away too."

"What happens if I offer to help instead?"

It’s with care that Emily studies Dumortier’s reaction, finding it particularly predatory. She supposes his offer to help isn’t out of the kindness of his heart, though she can’t figure what angle he’s going for just yet. Maybe his intention is still to collect a finder’s fee, all without the hassle of registration and being put in the system. “I don’t think much changes,” she offers up honestly. “Official help or unofficial help, it’s all the same. You get reimbursed as a contractor, or you’re rewarded for useful tips.”

Her head tilts while she considers him, bangs angling to frame the side of her face delicately. “Either way,” she supposes, her voice softening from the clinical, almost harsh tone she’d spoken with a moment before. “You potentially help people in need. Help bring us a step closer to finding who’s doing this. Maybe even why.

There was always so much paperwork when it came to doing things the right way. It made things difficult, even under the best situations, but Corbin also knew it was a good idea to do at least most things by the book. “To use any evidence you gather against whoever is responsible, you’d need to be registered. But I’m sure there’s things you can do that will at least point us in the right direction to find the evidence ourselves.” He just couldn’t be called on to testify if they manage to find the person and take it to trial.

Back in the old days of the Company, they didn’t need to jump through all these hoops to get dangerous killers off the streets, but this way was probably better cause it was less likely to get innocent people who just happen to have abilities locked up and treated like criminals.

At least that was the idea behind it.

“Any assistance you would be willing to give would be welcome. We want to solve this case and keep it from happening to anyone else.”

Paperwork is one reason that Dumortier specified an offer to help; seems like SESA likes to play it nice, though. It's not what he's used to.

"You're all too abiding. Makes me miss how easy it was to pay people off." The blonde jokes, more amused than anything. His smile makes it infectious. "So as long as you don't see me with any evidence, I never gave you a damn thing, did I…?" Rene fusses for a loophole, as he does.

"You can understand my reluctance to register. It's one thing to do it for pay, but to help you of my own accord and still get shafted? Bullshit." Corbin gets one more once-over, though it is Emily that gets the longer one. She must be a riot at parties. "Just between us," One hand makes a movement between himself and the pair. "I'm getting 'paid'. Cough up some details, I'll look around… I have a reputation." Despite his words, they come with a small laugh.

It takes effort for Emily to not perk up her shoulders in a gesture of so? directly to Dumortier’s face, her expression still placidly deadpan. Who was around to note any potential damage to his reputation, after all? And besides, he lived in the woods in the middle of postwar America, if he really cared about his reputation, wouldn’t he be—

Then it clicks.

She exhales thinly from her nose, glancing over to Corbin. “The trees bleed when you cut into them,” she ventures. “The bark, trunk… even the leaves, based on the last one we found.” Her brow knits. “It’s a telltale sign you found one.”

How much else Corbin wants to share is up to him.

“Yeah, sorry,” Corbin responds with a small sheepishness to his smile. He’s apologizing for not being willing to sidestep the laws? “I’ve seen what happens when Agencies sidestep when it comes to people with abilities. So I do understand your reluctance, but it’s also necessary for everyone’s protection if you wanted to officially work for us.” He had been one of those people, actually. He knew that it often meant people died, people got used or experimented on, or it just ended up being really bad for everyone. The last thing he wanted was for this man to get wrapped up in things, even though he wanted him to register in order to work. There were things that legal registration protected. Like the employer. And the registered from being sued for using their ability.

He pulls out a card and holds it out, this one a business card with multiple ways to contact him. An office phone, a cellphone, an email, and even a post office box. “If you come across anything that could be of interest, though, feel free to leave an anonymous tip. I can at least reimburse you for those.” While still keeping the source anonymous. It might come out of his own money, but he will do what needs doing.

Thanks to Emily, the man has a way to confirm if he found one, or just a tree that felt funny. Most trees don’t bleed. There were some, though, but it was more the sap being red.

Part of him hoped he never heard from the man on the matter, if only cause it would mean no more victims.

"Bleed?" Rene is incredulous, narrowing his eyes at Emily. Corbin doesn't contest it. "There are plenty with strange sap, some exotics… but I think you would know the difference…" He thinks out loud, his look growing a bit distant. It doesn't make sense. None of it. He is as curious as he is hesitant. What the fuck is this? A trick? No, that's too much effort.

Corbin's frankness is a delight, at least. Silver lining. Dumortier studies the business card, silently noting the presence of the multiple contacts.

"Alright." He answers more seriously, the shift in tone noticeable. "I'll keep an eye out. I'm good at noticing what doesn't belong out there. Park Slope is full of wild landscaping, for instance. Bizarre."

Emily lets out an absent tone of agreement. “No kidding. It’s where the last tree was found.”

And possibly where he should look for the next.

She slides a step back toward the car, glancing sidelong at Corbin to let him know she’s ready to quit the place. The young woman does look back to Dumortier with a short nod. “Have a nice day, Mr. Dumortier,” she bids him before turning on her heel to complete the short trek back to the vehicle. She rests her fingertips on the handle, waiting patiently for the Agent to join her again.

“Thank you,” Corbin adds quietly, though he’s not even talking about the offer of assistance or the case at all. He’s talking about giving him the clue to his missing family members, the branches of his family tree he’d thought were long gone.

As they move back to the car, he looks over at Emily and raises an eyebrow. “So. Do you want me to take you home, or do you mind sticking around a little bit longer.”

Cause he wouldn’t force her to sit in the car while he met with his nephew, but he also wouldn’t force her to come along if she’d rather go home and do her school work. Or whatever it is she wants to do with the rest of her day.

“It’s a long drive,” Emily points out evenly, her gaze flitting up to him as she pulls the door open. “I won’t make you drive it twice.” She lowers herself down into the car, hand hooking around the armrest to swing the car door shut as soon as she’s got her legs in. Dumortier’s residence is regarded absently through the windshield before she looks to Corbin, a faint frown coming over her though it gradually grows in strength.

“Corbin, you should be careful about this. Out here, there’s…” The light in her eyes flicker with uncertainty and she shifts her weight in her seat. When she starts up again, it’s a more measured thing that comes from her. “Are we really just going to drive up on the local militia and expect that to go safely for us?”

With her luck, the first gun they’ll run into will be the man she stole from. Or worse. But who knows until they go.

As he opens the door and gets into the driver’s side, Corbin actually says, “What’s the worst that could happen?” as he plops down into his chair.

Hopefully, they wouldn’t have to find out.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License