<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/2s68xtH.jpeg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Emma Grey (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=337584.msg16026944#msg16026944)<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Jonathan's table<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Black jacket, Black top, Belt, Jeans, Sneakers<br/><strong>Content Warning</strong>: None<br/><strong>Optional</strong><br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Lance, Jonathan<br/><hr/><br/>Lance was trying, bless his heart. He could see that something was up and tried to play the role of the understanding guy that would be there for her. Not really what Emma was looking for in the moment, but she appreciated the effort for what it was.<br/><br/>The spotlight? Give it to her. Being judged? Yeah right. Emma knew she looked good, clothes on or off. No one could tell her otherwise. Call it vanity or whatever, but she still occasionally paused in front of the mirror after showering and appreciated what she had. And as weird as it might sound, if Emma was in the right mindset, it sometimes was enough to turn her on. Some therapist out there would probably have a field day throwing labels at that if she ever bothered to tell anyone.<br/><br/>No, Lance hadn't quite hit the mark. Maybe it was just a guy thing -- a different outlook, different experiences, or different expectations. Emma could try explaining the hangups to him, but it was just easier to politely smile and say, "<strong>Thanks, Lance. I appreciate it.</strong>"<br/><br/>Izzy came far closer to answering Emma's doubts without even meaning to. She really should have led with that speech instead of the surprise lawyer visit and the NDA. Oh well. Celebrities being celebrities, Emma supposed.<br/><br/>Lacking a better option, Emma puffed out a sigh when Lance got up to head toward one of the poker games and followed along behind him like a lost dog. Lance was really only the other person that she had shared more than a few passing words with, and in a house filled with strangers, that was about all that Emma had to cling onto. The Patrón came with her though, her slender fingers wrapped around its skinny neck as she carted it and her glass off to the table.<br/><br/>Emma put both down on the table when she arrived. She began to slide her jacket off to get more comfortable but paused with only half of her arm withdrawn. With a shrug of her shoulders and a tug on the edges of the jacket, Emma bundled herself back up. No point giving up something for free, right?<br/><br/>"<strong>Go easy on me, alright? I haven't played poker in years.</strong>"