For a beat of the heart longer than any beat she was certain Casey had ever experienced in his life, Emy Vance just stared at him. A beat, and then her face eased into a coy little smile, a playful light alive in her pretty brown eyes. In this state of anticipation and slight confusion, Emy left Casey, letting him dangle in the void, nearlye very set of eyes in the class watching the interaction. One beat became two, two became three, and three threatened to develop into an eternity--before suddenly she took the pen easily as she might pluck a flower. "Emy. Emelia Vance, if you want the full name. I heard your name earlier, when you and the gang were talking. Wouldn't be much of a Wonder Woman if I couldn't hear through solid doors."

A wink, and her thumb was clicking the pen fast as a robot after a line of coke. One, two, three, four, five, six--each faster than a second, twisting the pen clockwise in her hand, then counter-clockwise; all it no more than a blue than to his eyes, or to the eyes of anyone else watching. Before Chad Johnson could even look her direction again, she stepped closer into Casey, and used his table to begin to fill out her worksheet. Jigsaws, circular saws, braces, power jointer, rasps, files, block plane, etc, etc, etc. 

After little more than five minutes her entire worksheet was filled out, and she was handing the pen back to Casey. She looked up just in time to get a look from Chad Johnson was again, and to catch a few other boys from across the room looking her way. To the one with the sneer, she just blinked. To the one with the shaggy hair and the antisocial expression of fear and hope, she offered the slightest of smiles before immediately turning her attention back to the boy next to her, and the boy seated just in front of him, before Chad muttered something and began to move around the room with the kid he'd been muttering to earlier. 

Friends, and all, it seemed. At least friends of convenience. 

Emy motioned with a nod of her head towards the back wall of the Woodshop, Casey seemed to get the hint, she wasn't sure if his friend Danny did, or not, but they would see. And as the class began to organically break up into groups, it was good she had someone to pair with. Someone that wasn't completely fucking awkward. Danny seemed a little awkward, but Emy couldn't really blame him: seeing the monster wasn't a fun experience. Emy found herself wondering if Danny imagined what it was like to look into the mirror, and have to see it. 

She wondered if any of them imagined that. 

She imagined what it was like to be one of them. To be fighting "the good fight" without the supernatural abilities and senses, without the dreams and visions that came to Emy constantly. Prescott told her that she seemed to have more of the visions and dreams than other Slayers he had known, or read up on. She experienced entire memories that weren't her own. She lived entire days in her sleep, days that didn't belong to her, clips of lives of long dead young girls. When Casey gravitated with her towards the back of her class, she handed him her completed worksheet, and the pen.

"I'm done. I've worked with wood before, go figure. Copy it, you won't learn the tools in a single class period copying names down on a worksheet. It's busy work, and anyway, I'd rather you told me how everyone from your group is doing today. Last night wasn't fun. Knowing they're actively hunting you back and trying to kill you is doubley not fun."