[SE] for a moment I forget to worry

A m a l i a Still mildly flustered by Emmett's skirting talk of being close, the baker is grateful when he does not push the issue, instead delving back into the Remi of it all. Amalia is bad at misunderstandings; she bristles back naturally, defensive at once for both the men, unimpressed with the petty masculinity at place. Remi being judgy, Emmett being defensive - she wishes she could tell them both to man up and calm down, or better yet, wholly excuse herself from this affair. "You have - had - ah..." She flushes, awkward, remorseful at once before clearing her throat and trying once more. "Imagine if someone was dating your sister. I bet you'd be really hard on him, too, especially if you heard they had a fight." She would, certainly: though an only child, Amalia knows she would not hesitate to rise against any who hurt her kin, bit or scathed the hearts of her loved ones and left them feeling alone. Emmett changes the topic - or does he? Because in the end is it not entwined, does it not still come down to us and them? Rising up Amalia sighs, wishing to think of anything but the Spire, of ugly nights and vengeful days and the lines drawn by either side. "I don't know, either," the baker admits, turning to stack some empty boxes, eager to work her anxiety away. "The Spire made things... complicated. The Outlanders should have cared more about our traditions, should have listened before changing the world-" She cuts off, suddenly angry, her frustrations around the turn of events rising like ichor on her tongue. Sighing, she turns back to her boxes, moving the last of the baked goods to the counter, frowning slightly as she works. She is messy, but she's kind She is lonely most of the time She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie She is gone, but she used to be mine