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A lot of conflict that Layton had dealt with could be talked through fairly easily. But there were times where he had to get rough. Times where words were not enough and, for all the opposing would care, never will be enough. He had traded swords (mostly makeshift ones) with his foes, but rarely ever did he use his fists. It leaned far too close to what he considered messy fighting and he would much rather run if he had the option.
For Emmy, however, it meant nothing to her. Her hands and feet were her bread and butter, and the messiness of fist fights were her element. To see her take part in martial arts or even some freeform boxing was not out of the ordinary. Oftentimes, she would back the good professor when he found himself against thugs that cared not for the art of swordplay.
And with her fights came yelling, the sounds of groans and occasional cracking of bone hitting bone. Men twice her size fell to technique and raw power. And at its end, she came out on top, normally without so much as a scratch.
But her most recent scuffle ended...poorly at least in the professor's eyes.
He watched his assistant roll her shoulders until a tiny pop could be heard followed by a small grumble from her bruised lips. She lifted her thumb and wiped the bit of blood that dripped from the corner of her mouth and he couldn't help but notice her knuckles in a similar state, battered and beaten with each blow.
Once her eyes caught his, she grinned and laughed as she had just finished a vigorous exercise.
"Alright professor, these guys won't be bothering us for a while. ...Professor?"
"Are… are you okay?" His normally calm, soothing voice was filled with nothing but concern.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Your hands and face…"
She looked down at her hands and carefully examined them, perhaps because she never noticed the bleeding. The adrenaline must not have fully worn off just yet, and she still felt as if she could fight a dozen more.
"Believe me, they had worse. How about you? They didn’t do anything to you did they?"
“Well, no… They didn’t even look my way.”
She puffed out her chest triumphantly. “Good.”
His face flushed and it took some effort for him to clear his throat before saying another word. It was strange and unorthodox that he found himself wanting to hold her, if just to prevent another all-out brawl from occurring again.
"I'll take it from here. First, let me bandage those wounds."
She scoffed and brushed away the hands that approached her.
"Stop worrying so much! I'm fine, really!"
"Please, at least just let me tend to the injuries.”
Once her hands were bandaged up, he took to finding a blunt object in the area, a stray copper pipe that had long since fallen from its place along the walls. He’ll do his part to make sure Emmy doesn’t fall to any further unnecessary harm.
Not that it’ll stop Emmy from charging in, of course.