The door opened and Emery glanced toward the sound—and when Zannrick strode through, looking all wild and ruggedly handsome in a way that reminded her she'd seen him naked. Swallowing down a bite of food, she shoved the thought away, reminded herself he'd also almost murdered her, and nodded back at him with a tired smile. Ah, good timing! She could find out where she was supposed to—
Her eyes moved over his armored form with dawning realization, taking in his sweaty face, all red from exertion.
Armor. Sweat.
Oh SHIT.
Emery felt her blood go cold, her spoon dropping with a soft clang into her bowl. He'd been training. TRAINING. Oh fuck, had she slept through it?! He'd let the first incident slide by the grace of God but there was no fucking way he'd excuse this level of brainless, irresponsible—fuck! Had she fucked up the one extra chance he'd given her? Served her right for not thinking the night before to ask specifics, but to be fair she was pretty damned shaken!
Despite her rising blood pressure, Emery managed to keep the smile on her face, though if he was the observant type he might see the wild panic in her eyes. At his question she jolted, remembered her meal, and picked her spoon back up with a slightly shaky hand.
"Yeah! I mean, I am. Eating, that is. In the process of it," she said, motioning with the spoon to her pottage. There was still half left, but her appetite was suddenly gone. "Just finishing up. Come to join me?"
Don't freak out, don't freak out, act natural...
"Stuff's not half bad. Not too heavy, not too light...you know, good pre-training meal..."