As a result, Emma looks younger, feels more like a tagalong in a continuation of a conversation than an instigator, eyes wide while she keeps quiet. Her reaction only really becomes judgmental in either direction when Six makes her order: on your back.
That’s more than just knowing one another. Her eyes dart quickly between the two of them, the ghost of a question parting her lips before failing on her tongue. In its place, her eyebrows knit together to frame her searching expression. All rhyme and reason dictates that she really has no business wondering, and yet.
Have they—?
Unwilling to give herself enough time to analyze why she cares, she moves straight on to holding her attention on Six. Her gaze holds more scrutiny, as if evaluating while the spindly, disfigured woman speaks. That does little good to help alter her focus once Emma’s eyes lift back to Caprica’s and find the expectant look there.
Dumbfounded, she battles the desire to crawl out of her own skin.
Finding herself unwilling to continue looking at Caprica for fear of feeling too damn exposed in those eyes, Emma turns to Hook. No, wait. That’s no better. She takes a startled breath and blinks, trying to school her expression into something more neutral as she searches for words. A beat passes before she finds them. ]
I’ll ... give you two a minute.
[ Her fingers flex, tightening into a fist and relaxing periodically at her side in the pursuit of something to occupy them, quelling the thrumming urge to reach up and offer to take his jacket for him. She turns to go instead. ]
i WAS WONDERING BUT DIDN'T WANT TO ASK
As a result, Emma looks younger, feels more like a tagalong in a continuation of a conversation than an instigator, eyes wide while she keeps quiet. Her reaction only really becomes judgmental in either direction when Six makes her order: on your back.
That’s more than just knowing one another. Her eyes dart quickly between the two of them, the ghost of a question parting her lips before failing on her tongue. In its place, her eyebrows knit together to frame her searching expression. All rhyme and reason dictates that she really has no business wondering, and yet.
Have they—?
Unwilling to give herself enough time to analyze why she cares, she moves straight on to holding her attention on Six. Her gaze holds more scrutiny, as if evaluating while the spindly, disfigured woman speaks. That does little good to help alter her focus once Emma’s eyes lift back to Caprica’s and find the expectant look there.
Dumbfounded, she battles the desire to crawl out of her own skin.
Finding herself unwilling to continue looking at Caprica for fear of feeling too damn exposed in those eyes, Emma turns to Hook. No, wait. That’s no better. She takes a startled breath and blinks, trying to school her expression into something more neutral as she searches for words. A beat passes before she finds them. ]
I’ll ... give you two a minute.
[ Her fingers flex, tightening into a fist and relaxing periodically at her side in the pursuit of something to occupy them, quelling the thrumming urge to reach up and offer to take his jacket for him. She turns to go instead. ]