Technically, Emilie hadn't called Wren retarded; she'd simply asked if he was. All the same, the thought of meeting one of the Hellhounds alone didn't seem to bother her in the slightest. All sense of self-preservation had long ago been negated with the need to get high. Everything else was secondary to Emilie Galloway, even her own life.
The only life worth saving was Ezra's, anyway. He was the last good thing left in this entire fucking world. Everything else could burn to the ground and simmer in ashes, if you asked her. She'd light the match and laugh at the chaos that ensued, and she wouldn't even bat an eyelash.
When the Hellhound had suggested they meet right then, Emilie only laughed, more than willing, and she navigated through the tunnels with practiced ease. It was a little known fact that the tunnels could practically get you anywhere within the city; one simply needed to know the way, and after two years of scrambling in the dark, she knew it better than most. It didn't take her long, maybe half an hour, before she was moving through the mall on silent, booted feet.
He was in the food court. She heard him, muttering to himself, before she ever saw him and instinctively touched her thigh, where she kept a wickedly sharp bowie knife in its holster. Smirking, she moved deeper into the court, mostly shadowed by darkness, and when she thought she was close enough she stepped out, almost seeming to materialize from the dark.
"Didn't think I'd show," she said with a smirk, bright eyes flashing in the non-existent lighting.