Emma looked horrified by the suggestion. Her weary eyes widened as she shook her head. "No, my head's been fucked with enough. I don't trust anyone to poke around in there." She already suffered from some pretty severe issues with emotional intimacy. The only time she'd agreed to have someone rummage through her thoughts was when she first came to Seagram. It had been necessary to prove her commitment to the Syndicate cause.
Picking up her glass, Emma tossed back what was left of her tequila. Thinking for a moment, she raised a hand to signal the waitress, but when the woman approached the table, Emma asked for coffee instead of more liquor. She was tired, but she didn't want to sleep.