Emerson saw the change, but held his posture and the hold until he heard Ambrose speak as the beast retreated from behind his eyes. The witch collapsed back into the large arm chair behind the desk, slouching in it as he breathed an audible sigh of relief.
"Don't worry about it," he drawled lazily as he waved his hand. "Believe me, I've actually seen worse." He reached out to pour them both another glass.
"Now, before you start with the 'what have I done?,' self-loathing stuff, I want you to stop it. Before the thoughts even come into your head. If you start with that, you won't be any good to her, and you'll lose your shit again," Emerson continued. "Take a drink, and take a deep breath. Well, not like you need to breathe, but humor me and go through the motions. Then tell me what the message said, and we'll figure it out."