She didn't answer his question right away. Instead, as she began to lead him into the gaping maw of the tunnels, she focused on the place where his lips had touched the cold porcelain of her cheek. Even through the leather of her gloves, his hand was fever-warm in hers — or maybe her own was simply so frozen that his felt like a furnace in comparison. "Mmhmm," she finally whispered, turning to flash him a surprisingly white smile.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to rust, but it's still my place. Our place, but he left me in it." When Emilie and Ezra first retreated into the tunnels, still nursing their wounds from the harsh backstabbing they received, Emilie did her very best to make the cold, unfriendly train car a place they could call home. She decorated it in bright colors, brought in outside sources of light, anything she deemed pretty or unique. For a while, it was transformed. It was home.
Now it was just a metal tomb filled with trash and proof of Emilie's quick and terrible descent into madness. Still, she didn't seem embarrassed or ashamed once she reached the nest. She led Rodeo inside, hand still in his, and once the both of them were in, she slid the heavy metal door in place and locked it, more for his benefit than her own. It was only a moment later that she released his hand and, slowly but surely, a row of candles began to light up in the darkness, offering Rodeo's eyes some relief.
Just because Emilie could see in the dark didn't mean that he could, too.
"Welcome to my kingdom." And what a sad, shitty kingdom it was.