STARGIRL

“okay, i guess,” they begin, looking down at their fingers. “i keep looking up the accident to see if … if they’re saying anything about how many people —” died. how many people i couldn’t save. the words are stuck in their throat and they can’t seem to look up at emmy, feeling ashamed of their title as one of the paragon heroes more than anything else. 

“ — but i’m fine, em. honestly, i’m okay. what about you? you didn’t get hurt, did you?” 

"There's blood drives all over the city," she supplies with a forced softness to her voice. "People are donating their time to help others. There's good in this if you look beyond the accident. The heroes still inspired the way they always do." Because she has to convince herself of the same or else she'll go mad.

Although she doesn't want to fuel the fire, Emmy gives a lopsided smile and looks down at her leg. "I... unfortunately tried to play hero. I'm not exactly like the Paragons, but I twisted my ankle. Silly of me to try, I know."

"There's blood drives all over the city," she supplies with a forced softness to her voice. "People are donating their time to help others. There's good in this if you look beyond the accident. The heroes still inspired the way they always do." Because she has to convince herself of the same or else she'll go mad.

Although she doesn't want to fuel the fire, Emmy gives a lopsided smile and looks down at her leg. "I... unfortunately tried to play hero. I'm not exactly like the Paragons, but I twisted my ankle. Silly of me to try, I know."

She's read the files, the reports, a dozen times by now. Nothing has become any clearer.

the gala has left her restless, and she knows emmy’s kept up at night, too. it’s all about the next steps—what do we do about this, what do we do about kronos, you know they’re lying—and putting plans into motion. the nature of their work has them both reaching into the dark for the truth, and with buchanan hellbent on hiding it, the injuries sustained from that night are the least of her worries. 

still, her body aches as it always does after a fight, cuts healing and limbs sore. she may be super, but she’s not indestructible. 

she’s just so fucking tired. 

so she’s thankful for these evenings on emerald’s couch, watching some reality show where she can’t remember who is who but entertains it all the same. pouring herself another glass of wine, she points the bottle at the screen. “—tell me again why she’s picking from any of them? half of them aren’t even funny.”

To understand why the back of her skull itches so much, like she'd tear the implant out of the nape of her neck if she was given a few spare minutes to try.

Suzu's voice rips Emerald from a dark pit, causing her to inhale sharply back to life. "Hmm? Oh, I know. Though humor isn't everything," she replies belatedly, leaning over to pick up her untouched glass of wine. "I would pay money to have you on the show. Suzu battering twenty people's egos to the floor would be quite the ratings darling."

saskia isn’t sure if it’s the kronos spine in her back or just her being extremely conscious of it that makes her sit so damn ramrod straight. she can’t help it. she can’t even remember so much as slouching even once in the last three years. it, at least, gives the image of perfect professionalism as she sits in a nsa conference room across from emerald savoya. “like i said, officer savoya, what happened at the gala was unfortunate, but the answer is simple. the twins cheated our extensive and rigorous background checks. that’s the only answer as to what happened.”

"Legally they're adults, but they're still kids. To cheat the background checks, they could not have done it alone. I'm not one for conspiracy theories, Ms. Sarkisian, but I think it's within our best interest to open investigation regardless."

the atmosphere at nsa has been … rather strange since the incident at buchanan’s ball. the hallways of nsa are quieter than usual, and that’s not unexpected by any means. there are many who were at the event, themself included, and some others that have lost close ones who had attended. and though they try their best to put on a brave face for everyone around them, it is so hard sometimes, especially when all they can still see whenever they close their eyes is people stumbling over each other in panic. 

it’s mostly why they’ve asked emmy if she’d like to have lunch with them today, because being around her always helps calm their nerves — she’s the next best thing besides good pastry, which they also happen to have with them. they knock twice before pushing their office door open, and holds up the bag in their hand as they meet her eyes. 

“i bring you danishes,” elijah says, placing the bag gently on emmy’s desk. “my dad used to make these all the time for me. comfort food.” 

Her kindness is about the only thing she has.

But then there's Elijah. Wonderful, incredible Elijah; she's grateful for their presence during such a tough week, and even more so that they're willing to have lunch with her. The sight of their face causes her to light up. "Danishes? Really?" she asks, quicky sitting taller to view the contents in the bag. "Oh, you're a lifesaver. I haven't had a danish in so long -- sit! Sit, I insist. I made a couple of pastries myself because I can't stand doing nothing, so consider this a much-needed lunch and learn. How are you doing?"

it’s not often cecil brings his work home with him. less often that he lets anyone he works with into his home. emerald savoya remains the exception not the rule. the people he trusts are so few and far between there are only two; she’s one of them. he knows she would never betray him. that innate fear of being consumed by the will and desire of another person doesn’t exist when he’s with her. so he lets her in to come and go as she pleases because she would never abuse the privilege. he sets a plate of roasted chicken breast and garlic potatoes in front of her before he sits next to her on the long black sofa - an array of reports spread in front of them. “you know you’re allowed to take a break.” he doesn’t have to point it out yet he stills does, as if she still needs his permission to do things others wouldn’t think twice about. “did you see your therapist after the gala?”

"I have taken breaks," she tells him, which isn't a lie. Briefly glancing up at him as he nears, her mouth waters at the aroma of food. "And no. As you can imagine they're a bit busy, but I'm telling you, Cecil, I'm fine." As fine as she can be, now that she knows the serum's being scrubbed off every major news outlet. "God, what a mess -- the paperwork, obviously, not the food. Food smells amazing."

otto adjusts one of his necklaces, tucking the clasp back behind his neck, while looking up at emerald. “am i supposed to not be alright?” he can’t recall anything particularly upsetting happening to him. can’t recall witnessing anything upsetting - besides godawful fashion tastes and the blowjob in the bathroom he walked in on. nothing scarring, at least. “i don’t care about the twins. one of them went blind for a few minutes i think.” he doesn’t hide the little grin playing at his lips. “do you care about them?”

At first she says nothing, gauging his reaction with a passive interest before sitting down on the bench next to him. "No, you're not supposed to not be alright, but I imagine it's not an easy crowd to mingle with for you," she replies softly, only to give a one-shoulder shrug. "And I care about people getting hurt. If this is real, then we have a potential shift in wind for heroes." She pointed cocks a brow. "And not-so-heroic types. But I think you're capable to handle either of those situations."

Shoulders dropping with each passing second to something akin to relaxed, Emerald nods at his orders and hardens her expression: there's still work to be done. "I am. Of course I haven't seen Zayid here yet, but... I'll talk around the room, play up champagne courtside chatter. Someone will know something, or drink a little too much." Pausing to look at him, she fixes her dress and smooths out the skirt with a feigned glittering smile. "I'll call after and we can compare notes somewhere discreet. Deal?"

he tips his glass slightly to clink his with his new company, and nods his head in honest acknowledgement. “i’ve seen your name on files. you and other nsa agents, i mean. but no, we haven’t met. i’m isaac.” he offers, a small smile to go along with the name. “i’m with the, uh, ai team. robots and other fun stuff. what about you? you like what you do?”

At least, not among others.

"AI team? God, I really admire what you all do down there. And that isn't me just... complimenting to compliment, I really am fascinated by everything that comes to your minds. I wish I was that creative," she replies in earnest before scrunching her nose. "...I do love my job, but it isn't for everyone. I work with the Plans and Policies department. Kind of working hard to make sure the supers that might need an extra hand have those resources. It's a Mary Poppins sort of life with the trainees."

At least, not among others.

"AI team? God, I really admire what you all do down there. And that isn't me just... complimenting to compliment, I really am fascinated by everything that comes to your minds. I wish I was that creative," she replies in earnest before scrunching her nose. "...I do love my job, but it isn't for everyone. I work with the Plans and Policies department. Kind of working hard to make sure the supers that might need an extra hand have those resources. It's a Mary Poppins sort of life with the trainees."