<strong>Emily Fitzgerald (mid 2008, age 16</strong><br/><strong>Location</strong>: The apartment<br/><strong>Tag</strong>: Sully<br/><hr/>Emily shuffles an awkward step, the hems of her pajamas shushing over the carpet as she walks closer.  She isn't used to such things.  She stays silent, placing her back against the adjacent wall and sliding down the painted drywall.  "Cause they've got no place to go, and they<em>have </em>to fight."  She sits aside him and draws her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin on the crook in her legs.<br/><br/>She watches him askance, breathes a soft sigh... she keeps the flashlight on, seems to glance at the corners of the room.  "I've never liked the night time much you know," she murmurs.  "I used to think it was silly.  For most people it is I guess."