Emily waited patiently as Cormac sent the women outside. That was going to be a nuisance, but for now they were going to be an out of the room nuisance, and she could deal with that. Cormac looked unashamed and she didn't look terribly surprised. It was what made Cormac better than other people she'd met. He sat on the edge of the bed and she took to removing her cloak as he asked her how she wasn't dead. The dress she wore was a pale pink color and flowed down to barely touch the floor.
"I didn't die at all," she smoothed the fabric of the chair and turned to look at Cormac again. Emily took a seat in the chair that stood across from Cormac and watched him, taking a lock of heir into her hands and twisted it around a finger, "I took a girl from the street, purposely dressed her as I would dress, and then I killed her." Simple as that. Yes, as simple as that.
There was no regret there, no apology for what she'd done, the same way he wasn't going to feed her excuses as to why there were two hookers. Without an audience the true Emily was coming to the surface again. She looked less angelic and more mischievous, sitting there watching Cormac. He was as she remembered him. Tall, muscular, and annoyed. She liked him that way.