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Of all the things that could have gone through her mind... Emelyn White's first thought was a dredge-back in her memory... to ask herself...

What did I wear to the Halloween masquerade? Then, before she'd even answered her own question with the obvious answer, the realization of what he'd just said thumped down into the pit of her stomach.

"I miss Sean." It felt like a test. Or a stall. Or both. Why wasn't her mind swimming over this?

The sigh was a recurring, unwelcome addition to the conversation. It was a repetition Emelyn could have done without, but it came unbidden and unfettered by the quiet loneliness that had crept up on her. Why did he have to bring up Sean, and all that talk of complications? There were so many different things that could happen to them here, and for some reason, the man who had always been the most comfort to her- was offering her little but stark, ugly honesty. These thoughts, too, were unbidden- and unanalyed. Emelyn White had reached a point in the past few months that her emotions were just beneath the surface- and were quickly revealed, and without much provocation. She'd responded to that flaw with a sort of manic veneer that was the happiness equivalent of a press-on nail. She didn't even think to try it with Ambrose. He knew her too well.

"If you always avoid someone who you're afraid... something will happen to them, you won't have many friends left on the island." She stepped back. He'd passed the test- and yet... she didn't want to give him the response, which would be to let him continue in the conversation unquestioned.

At least it was explained. Emelyn smiled- a more genuine thing than the reassurer of before, and dropped her head gently down, forehead first- to touch on his shoulder. It was the closest equivalent to a hug that the hedgehog woman could manage without invoking some displeasure on either side of the embrace.

"Hm. At least physical ones," she whispered. The word 'physical' was tainted by some strange inflection that softened it even lower than her whisper. The pause was evident, and she was surprised he did not talk in the median as her thoughts buoyed to the surface and returned to an unwelcome subject. Finally, she spoke again, and her words were harder.

"I shouldn't grieve for him. He didn't want me. I didn't... didn't even know if that was what I wanted, but before I could make up my mind, he'd already made it up for me. And then he and Greer..." she sank into silence again. It was longer still before the words were dredged free. "We were leftovers, Ambrose. You from Greer, and me from Sean. Just leftovers."

She huffed- carrying with it the vaguest hint of a hiss, something that said it was not only the human aspect of Emelyn's nature that was suddenly displeased. "Sorry," she said, her voice more sarcastic than she would have liked, but unwilling to alter the tone, "I'm not very well versed on a pack heirarchy... although I'm sure the 'friend' slash 'semi-yet-not-quite ex' doesn't rank much higher than babysitter to the legitimate couple's pups. Or whatever." She willed her spines to lay as flat as possible- then leaned back against the couch.

"Not entirely inaccurate?" She was incredulous. Then angered. Then incensed. She put her palms to the couch and pushed herself up, only now realizing that there was a whole room around them, more than just that couch. "You're right. You are 'very much a man'. Callous." She tensed her fingers as she looked downward at him, then turned towards the door to leave.

His words had paused the motion of her limbs towards the door, but not the emotional train that barreled towards an inevitable wreck. "You make so little sense." It wasn't necessarily true, it was said out of frustration and anger. "Why don't you just pony up and say what you mean for once?"