"Nah, not that much, not unless I bend over or...lean up or to the side...or cough..I guess it still does hurt, huh?" He laughed, finally admitting what bravado had tried to stop him from saying. "I guess that creme would be real helpful then, thanks." Emmett's attempts to ease the pain had mostly been numbing the feeling with alcohol or leaning in close to the fire, the heat seeming to help a little for a few minutes before it began to burn.
Barely qualified for marrying age. Emmett smiled but said nothing, suddenly wondering about when, if ever, he wanted to get married. He still felt far too young, but he'd known people younger than him who had had marriages, had even been excited about them. Would it...be Phoebe? He glanced across at her. They were only just beyond a hurdle that had ended them so he didn't want to make any assumptions, but he supposed he wouldn't mind that, as scary as the idea was.
He was taken from his thoughts by her request. "No onions? Huh, okay..." Emmett could have sworn she'd gladly eaten his mothers stew before the attack, which had been packed full of the things, but he wasn't about to pick a new fight over something so inconsequential. He got both of them a potato pastry (spiced, with a crispy shell, one of his favourites) and took her to a spot to sit down, a little out of the way of the festival but still with an eyeline to his brother and sister, who were busy following a teacher in a sort-of-right version of an old harvest song.
"I always really liked Fiat Lux. You uh...did you have anythin' like this back where you were from?" He asked her, taking a bite of his food.
Emmett
It burns too bright
I think about my self a lot 'cause it's the only one I've got
I've earned this life
What have I done to earn this life?
I think about my self a lot 'cause it's the only one I've got
I've earned this life
What have I done to earn this life?
