They stood in uncomfortable silence to the wash of noise, from complains and screams to dishware clattering in the kitchen and trays hitting the counter. Staring at Emily's back wouldn't provide any fine ideas on her emotions or thoughts outside of the tense body posture under the jacket and the antsing around the heels. Maybe she was waiting. Maybe she was trying to avoid killing two kids that ran within sword range, one screaming about the other taking her fries. Surprisingly nothing much was going on.
At least until Chain popped her another head text. The remark sent the killer into turning to face her gun-toting counterpart of the day. "I know what I want, dammit, she seethed, barely audible below everything else. A guy that might have been high on Sweed who was waiting for his food looked over blurrily at them. He peered at her, causing Emily to glance his way. "What are You looking at?"
The man's large, black eyes lit up as if he had the epiphany of a lifetime. "Are you a musician?"