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    Summary

    “What were you thinking?”

    Emmrich's anger was not a loud thing. Instead, it simmered just underneath the surface, a quiet roil as he frowned in displeasure at Rook's latest display.

    “What? No one’s dead now, are they?” She rolled her eyes at him, sitting on his desk, crossing her feet at her ankles with the sort of casualness he feared would become the death of her. “Well, besides those Venatori, but that was kind of the point.”

    A headache steadily built at the back of his eyes, needling at the base of his skull at Rook’s flippant attitude — to her own life no less!

    “Indeed,” Emmrich managed to say through gritted teeth. A breath in. A breath out. Still, his eye twitched. “However, there surely were ways to do that without almost killing yourself, darling.”

    —

    Or, Emmrich is most displeased with Rook’s recklessness getting her nearly killed again and again. Rook reminds him she’s very much still alive with a distraction.

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