A what? For who? Emma resisted the urge to pinch herself a few times to make sure this wasn't a dream or some bizarre reality. No, Nick Fury looked pretty real standing in front of her here. She tipped her head back and poured the rest of her drink down her throat - no sense in being ladylike.
"Oh really." So said Emma (who was a 'get to the point' type of gal herself and thus appreciated the attempts to ward off asinine small talk) as she set the glass down on the bar top. "Do tell, Mr. Fury. Shall we talk someplace more private?" she wanted to know, glancing around the bar - it wasn't too crowded but you never could trust anyone these days.