Emilie wasn't exactly a sharer. She learned early and hard that sharing details, even something minute, was just an opportunity for someone to use that against her. That being said, the King of the Mutts had her Prax, and even if the end goal was to string him up and dance in the carnage, she really wanted a fix. So she'd tell him her name.
"Have a few," she mused, taking a non-threatening step forward. Her hand no longer rested on the bowie knife, and she made no move to reach for the straight razor in her back pocket. "You can call me Emilie." Not Big Blue, because that was Sparrow's name for her, and certainly not Emmy. Only Ezra had the right to call her that, and anyone else would likely find themselves missing a tongue.
"What can Emilie call you?" the wide-eyed Ghoul asked, and she canted her head to the side, eyes moving from one Hellhound to the other as she waited for a response.