It wasn't that Emma...lived to blow things up. Well. OK . Maybe it was.  But it had been, so very long since Emma blew something up.  Explosions were an art form, and when it came to her craft, Emma was fucking Picasso. What it boiled down to was there were two things in the world Emma was good at.  Sex being the first, and blowing shit up was a close second.<br/><br/>While neither of these two things gave her anything but trouble in most cases, she loved both her 'skills'   dearly.  The way Emma saw it : Why shoot someone and have a chance of failure- when you could just blow where ever they were up? Why sneak behind someone and stab them, when you could flirt with them,   slap their ass as the stroll off, planting a bomb in their pants?<br/><br/><br/>Sure her mood changed rather drastically, however her anger with Loretta wasn’t really<i>with</i>Loretta as much  as it was with Lorettas attitude.  The wastes were hard, and it annoyed, saddened and enraged her that anyone could sit there and damn someone else for doing something horrible to survive.<br/><br/>She had made a conscious decision the other day to be a ‘team player’, and letting shit slide off her back was just that.  The best way for Emma to stop being angry was to find something to be happy about. Explosions made the convict happy.  It wasn’t the death , no no. It was the process.  So many different methods to make things go ‘boom’.<br/><br/><br/>She rubs her hands together , and looks hopeful. Sure she wanted to still talk to Sue and Jynx before they headed out, but now she had something to look forward to.  She looks at Fanya.<span style="color: blue">“Right.  I’ll play nice…When do I get to look at the goods?” <br/>
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