Prometheus had not been expecting her to contemplate the things they'd been talking about. Hearing her words were a blessing to him, or at least, that was what he thought. So, she knew. She was one of the few who was honest in knowing that things like this were said and done differently, each was hard to accept. And with her answer, he found himself knowing her, even just a little bit, better. She was a kind and honest person, selfless and righteous. If it were then, and not now, she would have been able to find sanctuary amongst the FireFox, as they treasured that sort of person. But, that was never to be, for as far as Prometheus knew, he was the last of his kind. There was no longer a tribe, just himself. He hoped that maybe, somehow, that was not the case, but he was not going to latch onto a false hope such as that. He'd seen them die, he'd heard and felt the death around him. So there was more than an eighty percent guarantee that his assumption was correct.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Let us hope that the moment never comes. I do not wish for such a situation to arise, as the world would lose a very special light if it did."</span>His eyes showed kindness and sincerity, and that expression reflected onto the smile his lips bore at that moment. And he meant that. Every word. He truly hoped that the day never came around that she would have to do something so desperate to save another. Her words continued to echo in his ears and in his mind, his thoughts tumbling along with them strung alongside. There was much more to Emory than meets the eye, and Prometheus was starting to put the pieces of who she was together, one by one. She reminded him so much like Wednesday, and yet, she was different as well. She was her own person, and more and more he was starting to see her as more than just a simple stranger.<br/><br/>They go one to converse a short while about happiness and love, and of course, he was more than happy to hear her thoughts on the subject. So, she thought that happiness came from love? It was definitely a mind over matter thing, to each his own. He knew that emotions sprouted from many different things. Love could come from happiness and happiness from love. But also from sadness, anger, longing, hope. It was impossible to predict where and from what something would come from, as every living thing felt things differently. But the one thing that remained consistent, was that emotion was what made up a large part of who you were, no matter what.<br/><br/>Minutes go on, and the subject changes once more, and of course Emory asked the second question without meaning to. He simply chuckles and gives her a smile before shaking his head no. But after a moment she answers his, saying that she liked all seasons. That sounded very much like her. He knew then, more than before, that she and Wednesday would get along well. And no doubt, she would be fascinated with his ability. As he was not only an outcast due to his strange personality and quirks, Wednesday also had a unique gift, that no other Woodlands Elf ever had, before or after his time.<span style="font-style: italic">"If somehow he wakes, you should ask Wednesday to show you his 'gift'. Just mention turning time to him...and he will probably know what you mean. You won't be disappointed, I promise."</span>He nods at the thought, knowing for certain he was right.<br/><br/>After a moment, with Emory now grinding the herbs that he'd dried for her, she asks a near impossible question. For a moment he froze, then a blank expression washes over his face as he stares down at the floor, gripping the edge of the counter tightly. What did he like most about himself? After a moment he breathes softly, sighing, and slowly letting the air from his lungs. It seemed like forever before he lifted his head to look at her, his eyes seeming conflicted in a way. Giving her an apologetic smile, he shakes his head softly.<span style="font-style: italic">"I...right now I do not think there is much I like about myself. I am not certain if this would be the correct sort of answer...but...I would say that my friends were what I liked most about myself. They make me feel more like me than when I am alone. They...well...they complete me. Without them, I feel like less than what I am supposed to be. Not strong, not powerful. Nothing. Before I had met them, I was never really content with anything in life. I may have appeared happy, but I was not. I liked nothing, hated nothing. I didn't even like myself. But after meeting them...they taught me to do just that. To love even me, along with others. That...well, that is why I'd say the thing I like most about myself, is them."</span>He pauses, sighing again.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Ah...but that probably is not really...never mind. I do not think I can answer otherwise."</span>He gives her another apologetic look, though without the smile this time. Turning his head, he looks out the small window above the sink, focusing his eyes on a bird that had landed on a low branch close by. Fluttering wings and soft movements, he wondered... Before speaking once more.<span style="font-style: italic">"How far would you go, physically or otherwise, to help another person? Would you travel to the ends of the earth? Would you go beyond that? Would you go to the very depths of hell?"</span>He looks to her then, crossing his arms over his chest, before shaking his head a moment after that.<span style="font-style: italic">"You...do not have to answer that. It was wrong of me. I apologize. Instead, if you do not wish to answer that, then...what is your favorite time of day?"</span>