[color=silver][center][h2][color=#5f6eaa]𝔼𝕞𝕞𝕒 𝔹𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕩[/color][/h2]
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There was an almost embarrassing amount of things Emma wasn't good at. Cooking, dusting, reaching things on the highest shelf and oh, [i]dear god[/i], taking quick showers. They had seemed completely alien a concept, before she left behind her life in the inner districts.

What Emma [i]was [/i]extremely good at however, was waiting. She'd perfected the craft years ago, hiding in her bed for hours on end, waiting for artificial suns to vanquish the monsters that kept her awake. As such, Mel's Infamous Finger of Halting - a name Emma had coined herself - had never deterred her. If anything, she found waiting in Mel's office soothing. 

As the others started to ask questions, Emma stayed quiet and waited some more. It was only after everyone'd had their turn that Emma raised her hand. Her father had always emphasized how important it was to do so before speaking up. 

Her father had also said there were no stupid questions.

[color=#5f6eaa]"Excuse me, but--" [/color]she glanced at Yasu, then back to Mel. [color=#5f6eaa]"What does she mean by...[i] those kinds[/i] of books?"[/color]

Mel's clap came at an arguably opportune time.

[center][color=#5f6eaa]-[/color][/center]

Though Emma was no longer a stranger to the 10th district, it still housed many a place that left her speechless. Littown, she realized as they approached, was one of them. The irony of its name was not lost on her. But then, nothing was truly lit out here in the outer districts, unlike back home. 

Emma preferred it here. She needed no radio to keep her company; as she peered out the van's window, she could see all her friends running alongside it, racing, prancing, dancing in the dark. They jumped over trashcans, climbed up walls, disappeared from sight altogether in the darkest, most narrow corners, only to emerge time and time again.

Their stop was abrupt and long overdue, followed immediately after by Honest storming out of the van and into the building that awaited them. Emma followed suit, though with considerably less hurry. She rose carefully, straightened the hem of her skirt, and stepped out with parasol in hand. It wasn't open; there was no light she needed to be protected from.

She stepped over the broken door almost apologetically and looked around, made note of the doors and the stairs. There was a skip to her step the further in she went, and when she turned around to address the others, she did so with a twirl of her parasol.[color=#5f6eaa] "Now, if I were a book of indescribable value, where [i]might [/i]I hide?" [/color]She stood a moment, smiling, then gestured at the air - as if one could see the unnerving notes of the accordion floating there. [color=#5f6eaa]"Perhaps we should find and ask the nice musician behind this piece."[/color][/color]