Once they'd arrived to the table, she set her clutch down, glancing at the names on the table. Oh. Lovely. Clint Warrington, Daphne Greengrass, Marcus Flint and some girl she didn't know. At least Astoria was going to be there. She felt the knot in her stomach loosen somewhat. Dropping her arm from his, Emma tried to relax. She hadn't been on a date... well, ever, really. And this was definitely a date. A very odd one. But a date, nonetheless. Feeling a touch out of sorts, she picked up a glass of champagne, taking a slow slip, hoping the bubbly would help her nerves.
Listening to him talk was relaxing. She didn't have to make conversation if he spoke. Still, she couldn't imagine that the public wasn't interested in him. "I believe that it's you they're interested," she said, matter-of-factly. Glancing at him, she worried her lower lip. She had no idea who he played for. Astoria had mentioned, it, but she couldn't remember which team. The Magpies? No. "I can see that it'd be rather exhausting." She wouldn't want her live scrutinized that way. Too many skeletons. Looking at him, meeting his gaze.