<div class="floatleft">(https://imgur.com/MyXF7VZ.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Emma Grey (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=337584.msg16026944#msg16026944)<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Patio table<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong><del>Black jacket</del>, Black top, Belt, Jeans,<del>Sneakers</del><br/><strong>Content Warning</strong>:<br/><strong>Optional</strong><br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Everyone outside<br/><hr/><br/>"<strong>Yeah, I hope it works out for you.</strong>" Emma offered cheerful reassurance to Donavon and nodded absently along. It was pretty clear that what he said hadn't quite registered with her. Emma wasn't a sports fan by any stretch of the imagination; she was always more of the type that sneered at passing jocks and cheerleaders in high school hallways. But still, she knew what an MVP was. More importantly, she had a general idea of what kind of money MVPs pulled. Slowly, connections started to form and the gears in her head began to turn.<br/><br/>When Emma put the (admittedly easy) puzzle together, her first reaction was to gasp audibly and direct a betrayed stare at Diane. Who introduced an MVP caliber basketball player with "Oh, this is just Donavon, by the way. You know, just normal ol' Donavon." Emma shook her head. That was like calling a Rolex "just a watch" or a Porsche "just a car." Why was no one freaking out about this? Was being in the same room as an NBA superstar so routine for the others? Man, being a celebrity must really be wild.<br/><br/>"<strong>Huh...</strong>" Emma slowly returned to the couch, her eyes lingering on Donavon in stunned awe as she sat sideways across Jonathan's lap. She had curled her legs underneath her without thinking, leading to Emma sort of kneeling on Jonathan's thighs. Mercifully, when Emma relaxed, her legs moved slightly out from under her, more evenly distributing her weight while taking up the entirety of his lap. It also had the added side effect of letting Emma sit taller in Jonathan's lap, putting her chest right at eye level.<br/><br/>Emma didn't seem terribly cognizant of that fact, especially when she stretched forward across Jonathan to tap Rose on the shoulder. Straying too far from her center of mass had the result one would expect from a woman that had put away as much tequila as Emma. Rather than a tap on the shoulder, Rose got more of a shove as Emma lost her balance and sought to catch herself on the woman she was reaching toward. Jonathan -- or more specifically, Jonathan's face -- ended up pressed firmly against her chest. If Jonathan didn't know any better, it could have easily been viewed as a very poor attempt to smother the poor guy. There was no evading the medley of scents attached to Emma at this distance: the spring breeze scent of her freshly washed shirt, the floral fragrance of her perfume, the fruity aroma of her body wash, and the hint of citrus from the lotion that she used.<br/><br/>Emma apparently wasn't in much of a hurry to right herself. Instead, she drunkenly giggled at her own clumsiness and gave her attention to Rose rather than the guy she was leaning into. "<strong>Hey. Hey.</strong>" She repeated herself and shook Rose softly as though she hadn't already earned Rose's attention by nearly falling into her lap. "<strong>I think if you're doing that double challenge thing, then you're supposed to deal. Dealers do the challenges, right?</strong>"