Umbrella Surveillance System
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Emma Evening as come, and the sun has just set leaving a sliver of colour. Stars are starting to come out, the clear sky makes them look like diamonds. It seems peaceful, like nothing bad could touch this night, like the horrors of the world were eternally sleeping.

Emma is in her office, now settled. Shaemus - her trusted dog, is dozing on his big bed. His master stands behind her desk looking out the window and then the clock. She had a meeting, a meeting with a man marked with nothing but sour memories to her. If this is him, which it sounds like it is. Sighing a delicate hand reaches for her cup of tea, lifting it to take a sip, briefly looking out the door before her big grey-green eyes return to the window.
Elliott     Elliott is kind of taking his time in getting to where he's going. Long legs striding leisurely as he turns his head from one direction to the next, taking in his surroundings, his gaze sweeping over anything in the room and pausing briefly to study it. He might just be trying to delay, too, though unconsciously, as he suddenly realises this, poised over a flower with a single finger under one of the petals. "Come on, Elliott," he murmurs under his breath, scolding himself. Lifting his head, and briefly pushing back his hair with a hand, he shifts the book bag on his shoulder and begins to move again. His head inclined as he reads the top of doors, looking for the right one. Telling himself that it can't possibly be the same person, he steps up to the door with a cool casualness (which he doesn't precisely feel), and raps his knuckles on the side of the door with his hand turned backward.

    "Ms. O'Connal?" Elliott says by announcing his presence, even as his pale blue eyes peer suspiciously towards the back of the redhead standing by the window. Confidence flickers a little, feeling just a tad bit unsure. Too big of a coincidence... Too portray that he /isn't/ nervous, his mouth twists into a self-assured smile.
Emma With warmer weather, Emma can ditch the winter wear and sports a casual, yet flattering dress. It sweeps around her, long curly red hair left down. Her bare arms, the knee length skirt, show off some of the freckles.

Hearing the knock there is hesitation, damn. Jaw tenses and slowly she turns, gracefully on bare feet. Those grey-green eyes befall him, taking in who it is. She fights back a frown, and puts on a smile. "Elliott it - it has been to - to long." Remarks the lass, in her thick Scottish accent, extending a delicate hand to shake his. "Seems ya - ya have done well for yerself. Pl - please sit."
Elliott     Full of anticipation, his gaze set firmly on the woman as he waits for her to turn, the muscles in Elliott's stomach clenches as she moves. For a fraction of a second he's rendered speechless, his mouth parted for the words he was going to say before his mind turns off for a second. Skipping a beat, a very brief pause, before he reflexively straightens and he tries to recover by letting out an, "Oh, well," in his heavily British tone. His smile having faltered, it has now been replaced with an amused smile as he lets out a short laugh. "I guess it really can be you. Well, isn't this a bit awkward, now?" Elliott says plainly, mustering all his assurance and charisma as he chuckles. Despite his nerves wringing his insides out, Elliott really doesn't let that show as he coolly crosses the room to offer Emma a hand. In fact, he looks just as arrogant and full of self-satisfaction as he would have appeared in the past. Except his words are said warmly and welcomingly, lowering the volume of his voice to just over a whisper as he angles his head, "I don't think an apology would be enough here, but just know I plead complete insanity on my part." The twisting of his lips and the mirthful spark in his pools of blue eyes gives the humour more flavour.
Emma Emma has become quite good at hiding emotions these days. She keeps that smile, it's kind, but the edges maybe slightly strained. His exterior is noticed, while his words are warm, the lass defults into thinking this is the exact same man, or likely is. "Aye it - it is. I - I could hardly believe it myself, when I - I heard yer tha one comin'."

Letting go of his hand, hers come together before her. Leaning in a touch, brows rise at his remark. "They - they say a psychologist is often more insane than the one they - they be treatin." Her tone hints at amusement. "Yer sayin' yer - yer a changed man then? Fo - forgive men I will need more proof." Even skeptical, there is that natural sweetness about her.
Elliott     Elliott watches her features quite intently, eyes focused on her with a sort of... piercing look, as if he were looking deeper at her. But if he catches any strain or hidden emotion, he does not comment or act in any such way. Instead, he keeps an amiable smile on his lips, flicking with a short chuckle in response to her. "Maybe that's what makes me a bloody damn good one," he says, all confidence as his teeth becomes visible in a momentary lopsided smile. Inwardly, he might just have to agree, as a voice inside his head keeps chattering on about keeping his cool and flare. "Perhaps you will get that proof," he says this, and then turns, relieved to have a reason to turn away from her. His head shifts a little, inclining a bit as his eyes trail towards the dog. Just a step closer, but hanging back, he hums thoughtfully, wagging a finger in gesture at the furry being. "He's not a biter, is he? I'm positive that wouldn't be pleasant." His head lifts from the canine, looking back to Emma with a curve of his lips. He raises his shoulders in an unperturbed shrug. "Well I'm here to help, but I don't think it'll be quite so easy if you don't trust me." He moves to take a seat, setting his bag beside him and pulling up a single leg to rest his heel against his knee, wiggling his foot unconsciously. "How did you end up here, anyway?" he inquires. "It's unbelievable how small the world is sometimes."
Emma Emma moves to sit, slowly sinking into her chair, resting back and crossing a leg over the other. Hands rest on her lap, big grey-green eyes follow to Shaemus and then go back to Elliott. "Ho - how could I trust ya so easily?" Asks the lass, shyly looking his way. Then there is a sigh. "Survinin' zombies, two assassination attempts, comin' ba - back from bein' dead. Job offers, promotions.." She shrugs, but hell, that is a lot to happen. And it momentary explains the cold withdrawn expression on her face.
Elliott     One hand resting casually against his leg, his foot lightly shaking, Elliott sits back in a relaxed, comfortable way, light eyes locked onto Emma, watching her. His smile flickers wanly in response to trust. Dipping his head as he lifts a hand to rake fingers through his hair, it hides the uncertain expression that crosses his face, letting out a quiet sigh before he looks back to Emma, hand casually back on his leg, other arm resting on the top of the chair. For a moment he simply doesn't move, eyes closed until he re-opens them and his teeth flash as he tries out a disarming, charming smile, chin tilting back a bit. And then falters a little in his uncertainties. "Well, Emma," he says with an air of hopefulness. "I hope that this time you can get to know the better person in me," he offers kindly. He lets out a breath, shifting a little in the chair.

    Elliott bobs his head to her words, offering a light-hearted, "Well you've been keeping busy, haven't you?" His fingers tap against his ankle before his smile cracks open, freeing up a soft laugh. "Do you know how much /work/ went into psychology school?" he shares, quite conversationally, trying to ease her by giving her a bit about himself. At least, the bit that he doesn't want forgotten. His leg drops so that both feet are on the floor, and he leans forward a bit, elbows resting on his knees as his eyes all but pierce her.

    "I'll show you a little trick." And he shifts a little so that he can pull out something small from his pocket, which he holds out in the palm of his hand. Just a red, rainbow coloured bouncy ball. And he offers Emma a smile he gives her a quick look. "Hours of entertainment, it's brilliant. Listening to a lecture, breaking from writing assignments..." He scoots the chair forwards, leaning so that he can reach the desk, and with his striking blue eyes lifting to her, he motions for her to watch as he gives it a little bounce on the table before catching it. "How about a challenge? Who can catch it first?"
Emma Emma simply sits there, looking at Elliott, even if those eyes are piercing, he doesn't get to much reaction to it. On top of the fact that their history is negative, he is here to get into her head, and few have been allowed within, even those she trusts most. Eyes flicker to the ball, a brow lifts. The hands on her lap untwine, the lass sitting forward a little. She'd love to reply about what it's like to go through zombies, lickers, facing your attempted murderer, and more, but there isn't much point in that, she isn't going to list the worsts. So there is a nod, and small shrug to thw challenge. "Fi - fine." Remarks the redhead, nodding to the ball. "Ho - how do we play?" Eyes study him, focused, even if there is a shy sweetness about her, it's clear she is taking him in, assessing, seeing if he is the same man that she once knew.
Elliott     As Elliott makes the challenge, his hand closed around the ball, his fist hovering over the desk, his eyes watch Emma as she makes her decision. His smile spreads pleasantly across his face as she agrees and he gives a small dip of his head. Talk of the bad stuff can wait. He gazes warmly at her, his smile welcoming even as he studies her expressions, or movements, noting everything. "Right," he says, nodding at his hand. "Hold your hand out. Get ready. Reach for it after the first bounce." And when she's ready, his eyes on her rather than the ball, his fingers release and the ball drops to the surface.
Emma Emma's eyes are fixed on Elliott in return. It's more important to guage if he is the same person or not, maybe he is playing her.

Last minute she sees that the ball has dropped, her delicate hand just misses the ball. "Damn." The lass says.
Elliott     The ball drops. Bounces. And Elliott's lips flick as he drops his head suddenly, reaching out and grasping. Only the ball continues on bouncing across the desk, lessening in its bouncing as it simply rolls for the edge. "Unlucky," he murmurs, tone slight entertained as he moves his hand to the edge of the desk to act as a barrier before it can roll off. Once again, he holds the ball over the table, looks to Emma with a nod. "Another round? Eyes on the ball," he encourages.

    Should she agree, he will again let the ball drop.
Emma Eyes follow the ball as it bounces away, then move back to him. She nods slowly, and extends a hand. But this time when he drops the ball, she would catch it.
Elliott     His fingers open and his eyes lower from Emma downward, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips as he reaches for the ball. She's too fast though, and as she reaches the ball, Elliott hesitates, his hand giving a jerky movement as he 'mms,' before his hand completes the arc and lands, empty, on the table. "Blimey, grand job." His eyes flick up to her, keeping his hand on the desk as he smiles. "You're turn to drop it."