“What are we doing here? I’m fine.”

Emily, in fact, was not fine but she couldn’t bring herself to woman up and admit that to you. no, she was too proud of herself that she had let the stress and dangers of the job get to her and weight her down. she was an ambassador’s daughter for Christ’s sake, she should’ve been able to compartmentalise better. yet, you were able to see right through her, you always had been. the entire way to the rage room, which was an hour away from Quantico, Emily had complained to you that ‘she was fine,’ ‘she didn’t need a distraction,’ ‘you’re overreacting, just turn around.’ it was getting old but Emily was secretly grateful that you were able to see through her act, see that she was struggling.