[hr][hr][center][h2][color=green]Grace O'Faolain[/color][/h2][/center][hr][hr]

	Perhaps she had overreacted, [i]perhaps[/i]. However, Grace wasn’t going to let this whole situation slide like nothing happened, it was pitiful really, how Emmett lied to her face, while she had every notion to spill the beans on what the flower she was holding truly was, Grace was simply tired. The heat of the day's journey had exhausted her, stroking her thin line of patience to nill. She didn’t want to deal with the new-found situation unfolding in the dead of the night as it were, even more pitiful, Floure protected him, not that she could blame the girl, she was young after all. She would learn in time. Sometimes men had to deal with their problems, as they never seemed to learn from their mistakes. She stood studying Othen, and the way he gripped Emmett's shirt in his massive bear-like fist of a paw, to the sympathetic gaze from Floure as her desperate words tried to protect him. A slow, sinister smile crept across her lips as she pocketed the flower. 

“[color=82ca9d]Othen, put him down would ye? The girl’s right. I thought Emmett here was usin’ that ‘cursed flower, the one where it causes maddenin’ ‘allucinations, and such. O’course, silly me, I can’ hardly see right at night. I don’ mean to cause such a commotion, nah, let us all head back to bed while we can. And Floure, I’ll hold onto this flower, after all, it [i]wasn’t[/i] the one you were searchin’ for, eh? It sure is pretty.[/color]” She locked eyes with the young girl, her stare telling a hidden story, she knew what the two were up to, how they both tried to pull the wool over her eyes, but too bad for them, she wasn’t easy to fool, she turned her attention back to Emmett by stepping around Othen.

“[color=82ca9d]Sorry Emmett, suppose I overreacted, hm? Keep an eye out for that flower that Floure needs, but come back to camp, there are slavers out ‘ere that won’ hesitate to snatch ye all up, and cart ye off in the middle o’ the night, nah.[/color]” 

"[color=82ca9d]Don't think for one minute, that I don't know what you're up to Floure.[/color]" Grace turned on her heel to address Floure in a hushed whisper, one that she would hear as she stepped towards, patting her on the shoulder as if to give the impression she had said something else, with that Grace made her way back to the camp. 

	On the short walk back, her stomach was twisted in knots, who did they think she was? Some ignorant woman? She knew the game they were playing. If anything, as long as Emmett didn’t have more of those flowers in his bag, well… he would feel the effects of not having his precious flower tonight, depending on how strong his addiction was. He would have to face his demons sooner or later after all, she would make certain that he wouldn’t harm himself, that she could guarantee. However, for his foolish behavior on jeopardizing the mission, she wouldn’t let that slide so easily. [i]Maybe[/i], she would give him the flower the next night, [i]maybe[/i]. She doubted that to be the case, but it depended on how he handled himself. Besides, now that Othen knew something was amiss, if Emmett started showing ill symptoms by tomorrow, he would know something was wrong with the lad too, as would everyone else. If he could keep himself under control, Grace would hold onto the flower longer, curious to see how long it would take him to be pushed to the brink of desperation. 

	Dancing orange light grew brighter as she neared, illuminating the tents, and casting long shadows on the desert sands; someone must have heard her to stoke the fire. In fact, as she broke the perimeter surrounding the camp, her eyes landed on Rook and Cillian sitting alongside each other, sharing a clay bottle, of what she could only presume to be liquor. Plopping onto the ground across from Cillian, she found herself gazing at him, studying the shadows cast from the firelight, her position purposely placed, as she watched how his eyes glowed like a predator stalking prey in the dark.

“[color=82ca9d]I don’ mean to wake ye, I thought that Emmett and Floure had gotten themselves into trouble. Turns out, they’re doin’ a bit o’ flower-pickin’. Or so they say.[/color]” Here she winked at Rook, as a grin spread across her face, hiding the true events from him. He didn't need to know the truth of what his nephew was truly up to at such late hours of the night. She would protect Emmett, just like Floure had, until his problems either revealed themselves to the company, or until she revealed them to Rook.

“[color=82ca9d]Caught your nephew lockin’ lips with the lass. Can’ say I blame him, she’s a perty lil’ thing. Thought I'd give 'em both a good spook when I went for a piss. I woke poor Othen, so I 'ope he's not mad at me for the lack of sleep.[/color]”