Waiting was always the hardest part.
Emmett knew better than to get drunk on a mission--if this even was a mission; he hadnāt received any orders beyond showing up at the festival--but he couldnāt help feeling restless, the sense of brewing trouble clawing at his muscles and making him want to act.Ā Itād be one thing if he had a job to do--he knew how to take orders and get a task accomplished.Ā But this?Ā Just wandering around until he heard something different?Ā This was liable to drive him crazy.
And a drink would settle his nerves--but he also knew that, too often, one drink led to two and then five and then being out of commission.
And so, while he was eyeing one of the barsā booths, trying to decide if it was worth the risk, he hadnāt actually gone toward it yet.
--Until a woman whoād been in line with her back to him turned around, and to Emmettās surprise, he recognized her.Ā After locking eyes like that, there wasnāt much he could do but acknowledge her, and so, although he wasnāt quite sure how itād go, he moved a little closer, wary and apologetic but not unfriendly.Ā āNic?ā