[ Emily has certainly come a long way from Dunwall's mine-fed silver cups, naming ships and giving practiced speeches from the comfort of her throne room. It's taken her a while to get used to the flouresce of the city, the way that night is never night and day is only barely day, and she still squints perpetually and founds solace indoors — away from the grime and adverts, the too-tall buildings.
Drinking, for example, is an unchanged pasttime. These are not bottles gifted from standing of Morley, or Tyvia, or even beyond the Isles - no, this is something she has to pay for with her own money. To tell the truth, Emily Kaldwin never learned to deal with money in such small sums, not really; not even in Karnaca, where Megan directed her to the Black Market Shops and the oft-mottled shopkeepers advised her while she clumsily counted out coins with the Duke's face on her palm. Large concepts, macroeconomics, trade between nations, the reserve - things she knows. Casual consumerism, on the other hand? Rather beyond her. She's terrible at building up a nest egg, for one, because she just expects it to be there and hasn't quite yet internalised that it isn't. Every night, after work, she blows most of her money on booze because -
Well, because she can. Because Corvo isn't here to gently pull her back off a path of wastefulness, carelessness, or even light hedonism. Because Wyman isn't here to frown disapprovingly, a delightful pinch across the bridge of their nose.
Today was a bad day, and she's irritable. At least she knows not to have her full purse out in plain view, though, and only slides across a few bits. ]
That one. [ Pointing. Her tone is a bit detached. The way she says her words has an almost masculine lilt, and it's one of many mannerisms that imply Emily was raised solely by a man. ] And two glasses. Leave the bottle.
[ Why two glasses? It is a mystery that will be answered soon.
Anyway, Alucard's muttering does get her attention. Emily glances over, eyebrows rising a fraction. ]
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Drinking, for example, is an unchanged pasttime. These are not bottles gifted from standing of Morley, or Tyvia, or even beyond the Isles - no, this is something she has to pay for with her own money. To tell the truth, Emily Kaldwin never learned to deal with money in such small sums, not really; not even in Karnaca, where Megan directed her to the Black Market Shops and the oft-mottled shopkeepers advised her while she clumsily counted out coins with the Duke's face on her palm. Large concepts, macroeconomics, trade between nations, the reserve - things she knows. Casual consumerism, on the other hand? Rather beyond her. She's terrible at building up a nest egg, for one, because she just expects it to be there and hasn't quite yet internalised that it isn't. Every night, after work, she blows most of her money on booze because -
Well, because she can. Because Corvo isn't here to gently pull her back off a path of wastefulness, carelessness, or even light hedonism. Because Wyman isn't here to frown disapprovingly, a delightful pinch across the bridge of their nose.
Today was a bad day, and she's irritable. At least she knows not to have her full purse out in plain view, though, and only slides across a few bits. ]
That one. [ Pointing. Her tone is a bit detached. The way she says her words has an almost masculine lilt, and it's one of many mannerisms that imply Emily was raised solely by a man. ] And two glasses. Leave the bottle.
[ Why two glasses? It is a mystery that will be answered soon.
Anyway, Alucard's muttering does get her attention. Emily glances over, eyebrows rising a fraction. ]
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