As he knelt there, he was surprised to sense Emory come up behind him, feeling her hand on his shoulder, and hearing her words. Telling him that she hoped he didn't lose his fire either. He looks away from Wednesday's sleeping face to look up at hers, a look of his own that couldn't quite be labeled anything, except that it seemed to be a mixture of sad, hopeful, and...begging. He gazes at her with eyes that were filled with a sense of longing, hoping that she would have her words stay true. He hoped, that his fire would remain. He didn't know how much longer he could remain like this...even though he'd only been awake for a  day, it felt so much more than that without his friends there with him. It felt like an eternity, watching Wednesday sleeping, and wondering if his other friends were like this...or were they dead...That thought tore at his heart, threatening to rip it in half, his chest aching deeply. If heart break was a real thing, he was feeling it now, as if his heart were quite literally tearing in two, it hurt so badly. Each beat sent pain through his entire self, he was afraid that it might be too loud, too hard...and end up breaking completely.<br/><br/>His eyes searched hers, looking for something...some ray of light, some sort of hope. Was she going to be able to help? He...couldn't help but hope for that. She was a human, he knew that...but maybe, just maybe...he felt there was something special about her. She was different from the other humans, he could tell. But would she be enough? His eyes began to water slightly, and he looks away, feeling as her hand moves from his shoulder, and listens to her footsteps as they faded into the background, and just from the position he heard, he could tell she was in the kitchen again.<br/><br/>Sighing softly, he reaches up and wipes away the tears that threatened to fall, feeling very much unlike himself. He wasn't normally like this...he was supposed to be strong, proud, powerful. Like fire. Like the very volcanic land, he had once called home. Not like this. He knew crying wasn't a weakness, he'd learned that over his travels because at one point he'd thought tears were for the weak. But his friends had taught him differently. They'd showed him that crying wasn't for the weak, but for the strong as well, because of crying shows when you've been strong for too long. It was a chance to clear your eyes and see things clearly once again.<br/><br/>Reaching out, he touches Wednesday's forehead, in a way he used to back then. Poking his forehead gently, he closes his eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath and standing up. It was not the time to be sad right now, but to hope for a better day, and light in the distance. Moping around and wishing that things were different would not change anything, he had to get up and do something to make a change. Running his fingers through his hair, he breathes out slowly before stepping toward the kitchen, and standing in the doorway, eying Emory for a moment before speaking up.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"What is it that you needed me to dry, or help with?"</span>He asks, offering a small smile. Right now, he had to distract himself, do something, or else he would go crazy from his mind wandering in a million different directions at once. Yes, he missed his friends. Yes, he couldn't help but to wonder if they were actually alive or not. And yes, he was lonely. But Emory was here. Which Prometheus was grateful for. Indeed, he wished that at least Wednesday was awake...but he had made another new friend in Emory. And now was as good a time as any to get to know her more. His tail swishes gently behind him, as he steps more into the kitchen, holding his hands behind his back.