The Dog King was so sure of his self, so very cocky, and Emilie would have loved nothing more than to lunge at him right then and there and bury her blade so deep into his belly that it severed his spinal column. Unfortunately, she knew damn well that, though she was fast, she wasn't fast enough to make it to him before the blonde got a shot off between her eyes.
Emilie was going to say something, not that it would have made any sense to anyone else but her, but then the King was holding up the baggie of wash, its contents absolutely beautiful even in the non-existent lighting of the mall, and Emilie couldn't help the way she gasped hard just at the mere sight of it. Rodeo was absolutely right.
She didn't want the wash.
She needed it.
Her broken fingers twitched, itching to reach out and snatch the drug from his hands, and she had to keep herself glues to the spot, her eyes still shifting from one dog to the other. Who was to say they wouldn't murder her right then and there? Either way, she kept her hand wrapped around the knife and when she spoke, it was directed at man who called her a rat.
"Rat surrounded by mutts," she hissed, turning her attention back to the Dog King. "He wanted to play, so I played." Emilie was about to take a step forward to reach for the wash but thought twice, hesitant with that gun pointed at her head.