It had been a joke, mostly. Emmeline liked living with Kingsley, very much enjoyed his company, but found it difficult to tell if his flirting and joking was genuine or if she simply was on the receiving end of it because she was there. Her presence did make it difficult for him to bring others home, if that was what he wanted to do. But she would hardly push him to do so, and not only because it might make their living situation more awkward, regardless of how comfortable she was with it. Her emotions on the subject were nearly as shut away as the rest of her emotions, even if she had let her emotional guard down with Kingsley more than anyone else. That wasn't saying very much of anything, though.
"A little," she said, nursing the last bit of her scotch. She had not come out here intending to get drunk, but the liquor was nice, warming her veins, burning away some of her disappointment. "I just get so frustrated when plans don't come as easily to me as they used to."
She didn't know quite why she found this so frustrating. It wasn't her own lack of ability to plan that was getting in her way, but she'd gotten a bit out of her depth, and it was a difficult plan to manage with all the unknowns. It seemed unwieldy in her mind, and the part that was really her fault was her inability to accept when she or her plans were imperfect. She would feel so much better if there were a simple call to arms, a battle strategy, fighters like pieces on a chess board. That she could handle.