Oh, but Emilie's expression was a grin — a terrible, teeth-bared sort of grin that held all sorts of wicked promises and inclinations, and when she tilted her head to the side to study him, it was a gesture that was almost canine in nature. To be fair, Emilie was more than animal than human at this point, thanks to the wash, so it just seemed to fit. "Nice crowbar," she whispered, tongue dipping out to moisten her bottom lip. "I think I want it."
That was Emilie for you. If she didn't have it, she wanted it, and she'd find a way to take it. "So tense, puppy. Knew you'd be scared of the dark." Emilie had started moving slowly in circles around him, a shark in the water sniffing out the blood of its prey. She knew, realistically, that it wouldn't be a smart move to kill this man. He was, after all, right hand man to the Dog King, for all she could tell. They certainly acted friendly on the boards.
But, oh, she wanted to smack the fuck out of that pretty, smart mouth.