Emmett
Tell me, how do I feel?
"Of course. I got it all painted up." Including the pastel-coloured nursery, where the beginnings of a shaky crib he was trying to make lay. Emmett pushed the thought from his mind and decided to never tell Phoebe, to use it for firewood as soon as he could and paint the room over another colour. "Just wait two seconds."
Nipping inside, he informed the kids it was bedtime (which was usually met with complaints, but when they saw the seriousness of his face they obeyed for once) and took them upstairs, tucking them in as quickly as he could. When he got back down it had probably been a few minutes, in which he hoped Phoebe hadn't broken down or left.
Opening the doors, he revealed the space to her. A neat wooden floor covered what had once been a dusty mud area, a fire and cooking pot on one side. On the other makeshift quilts and cushions covered crates to make sofas, childrens toys littered about the floor on a little rug. The evidence of his looting the old house was everywhere, old nicknacks, tea towels, ornaments from the cottage dotted about to make it look homely. The whole place had been recently painted, the lingering smell of paint coming over the scent of dinner.
"Come on in and sit down. It'll be ok." He assured her, going to take her arm and lead her to a seat. "...D'ya want a drink?"
