It isn't a hard thing, to hear distant footsteps. It's not like in the movies where the loner in the library is caught off guard by the presence of another. The sound is distinct and loud enough for Emilia to tilt her head up and look to where the footsteps come. She distinguishes a tall blonde and she frowns a little. A fleeting thought touches her mind: the woman is almost exactly to what Emilia imagined knights to be, when she was younger and spent a lot of time curling under the blankets on Winter nights, reading a book.
But she catches herself soon after and becomes self-aware she is staring at the odd - in her opinion - figure of the blonde, so eventually she sets her eyes back on the book, but not the attention. No, she's still paying attention to Galatea, on sparse occasion stealing a glance or two as she comes closer, fiddling the books without much interest, but always careful to look away when she thinks she'll turn to her.
Emilia sniffs a little, rubbing her nose idly, before flipping the page of the book. She seems a little out of it, pursing her lips and frowning slightly, but she's trying to not to feel too bothered by another's presence. Of course, this is a public place and it's not Em's, but it seems that she only truly realised that when the space was occupied by someone else other than her. And the fact that most of these people seem to be people who are not freaking out over the whole ordeal of being kidnapped into another world makes her feel so very inadequate.
And just as she thinks about that, the woman speaks. There's an awkward moment of silence before Emilia realises she's talking to her. She looks up, blinks as if waking up just then, and then sighs through her nose as she registers the question. "No," she says, rubbing the corner of the book's page idly between her thumb and forefinger. "I don't think I want to, either." There's a small pause and Emilia reaches for her cigarette, rolling it idly against the ashtray. "I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that some people can." She looks at Galatea. There's a question there, Have you?, but she doesn't want to sound too accusing. And, as always, this means that she sounds exactly like she's judging everyone and their mother's for being comfortable in this place.
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But she catches herself soon after and becomes self-aware she is staring at the odd - in her opinion - figure of the blonde, so eventually she sets her eyes back on the book, but not the attention. No, she's still paying attention to Galatea, on sparse occasion stealing a glance or two as she comes closer, fiddling the books without much interest, but always careful to look away when she thinks she'll turn to her.
Emilia sniffs a little, rubbing her nose idly, before flipping the page of the book. She seems a little out of it, pursing her lips and frowning slightly, but she's trying to not to feel too bothered by another's presence. Of course, this is a public place and it's not Em's, but it seems that she only truly realised that when the space was occupied by someone else other than her. And the fact that most of these people seem to be people who are not freaking out over the whole ordeal of being kidnapped into another world makes her feel so very inadequate.
And just as she thinks about that, the woman speaks. There's an awkward moment of silence before Emilia realises she's talking to her. She looks up, blinks as if waking up just then, and then sighs through her nose as she registers the question. "No," she says, rubbing the corner of the book's page idly between her thumb and forefinger. "I don't think I want to, either." There's a small pause and Emilia reaches for her cigarette, rolling it idly against the ashtray. "I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that some people can." She looks at Galatea. There's a question there, Have you?, but she doesn't want to sound too accusing. And, as always, this means that she sounds exactly like she's judging everyone and their mother's for being comfortable in this place.