Emily's a very intelligent woman, as are you. You're skilled in linguistics, etymology, the works. You're a master of words, good enough to teach your expertise on the subject to an auditorium of university aged students. In other words, you're a professor. And also, in an intimate relationship with Emily. Life's good, right?

You're midway through a lecture, explaining things fluently and with ease. The topic is one you knew well, probably off the top of your head you could explain it. Everyone's focused, but all glance back, including you, to the door opening with a loud creak. You'd be annoyed at the interruption if it wasn't the familiar face you knew very well walking down the steps towards you. "I'm not interrupting much, am I?" Her voice is playful, her arms folded over her chest as she made her way down to where you are.

"Interesting topic," she tells your class, a soft smile playing on her lips when she catches your gaze. She had a tendency to do this whenever she came in. she wasn't a professional in linguistics like you were however she knew her fair share of languages, so she had enough to share.

She spoke about the topic at hand, interacting with your class for a good twenty minutes—all while ushering you to relax and take a little break whilst she did so. Really, she only realises how long she'd been talking for when a bell signifies the end of the lecture, and everyone's free to go. That's when she turns to you. "They're good kids," as if she hadn't finished your entire lecture for you.

Her brows raise at the adoring expression on your face and she scoffs, "Gonna catch flies if you're not careful, it was nothing," she places her hands on your shoulders, kneading gently.