Oh, fuck, there they were, beautiful and bright and practically sparkling in the lack of lighting, and a full-body tremor rolled down Emilie's long spine. There was no point in playing cool, not when there was that much Wash at stake. Had Bishop and Rodeo been anyone else, another ghoul perhaps, she would've already charged them with gnashing teeth and ripping nails to get at the Wash.
But she didn't do that, because as much as she actually ached for it, she knew it was another test. If she cracked then, they wouldn't trust her with the drug, and she wouldn't be able to get close enough to the Dog King to do some damage. So, rather than turn into the animal she so easily reverted to, she only shivered and took a step closer to Rodeo, one hand reaching out slowly and non-threateningly.
"Eternities," she told Rodeo, because that's what it felt like. "Seems that way, anyway. Time doesn't matter anymore." When there was no sunlight or a way to mark the passing of the days in the tunnels, it didn't matter whether it was a day or a week; it all felt the same. "A year, maybe more." Longer than most ghouls, because most ghouls didn't have a twin brother who watched after them and made sure they didn't inject the shit and overdose.