He walked her to the door of her place. "Can I use your phone to call a cab?" Isaac asked hesitantly.
   Stiffening even more, because he just wouldn't let the incident lie, she nodded mutely and jerked the key free of the lock before it snapped and backed up a bit.
   "Excuse me." She bit out, before raising a stiletto heeled foot and kicking right next to the handle.
   The door gave way. "Come in." She muttered before stalking in herself and kicking off the heels and heading for her room. "The phone is either on the counter or in the couch cushion. Look."
   The words came out in a rush as she slammed her bedroom door behind her.
   Isaac watched Hurricane Emma blow by and winced at the slam. He deserved all that he was getting so far. It wasn't as if he was doing anything important when she called, or was going to do anything later.
   Truth be told, he'd been trying to get a hold of her since five that night, and was only aggravated that he couldn't. Which he immediately took out on her once he found out where she'd been.
   Shaking his head warily, Isaac started the search for the phone. Finding it when he heard Emma coming out of her room. Grinning at his accomplishment, and pulling the phone out from under the couch, his brain froze in mid-thought.
   Emma glared at him. "Almost done?" She questioned darkly. Asking about the phone and his staring.
   Quickly snapping his mouth shut, Isaac stood and cleared his throat. "Sorry. I'm just not used to seeing you…" he waved towards her outfit. "Like that."
   Shrugging, Emma glanced down at the flannel pants and long sleeved sweatshirt. "I don't dress up all the time."
   She'd nearly put on a negligee though, just to tease him. But she'd been too tired, and by the weariness her body was feeling in every bone, she wouldn't have done that job right.
   "Need the number?" She asked before stepping behind the counter and getting a glass of orange juice.
   "Yeah. Please."
   Nodding, she threw the phone book at him and headed back into the living room.
   He made the attempt to finding the number, and making the arrangements for a cab. But when he hung up, he stared at Emma as she stared blindly at the TV screen.
   "I thought you had to be twenty-three to have your own apartment, and twenty-one to serve alcohol."
   Emma shrugged. "You thought right. So?"
   Her lack of interest in him irritated. "So why are you doing either?"
   She stalled for a moment. "Because I'm special. And because money is very potent."
   His dark brows knitted together in thought. "I'd ask why you weren't staying with your parents, but that's a given. But what about other relatives?"
   Emma snorted caustically. "Uncle Jackson is in some prison on the East Coast for trying to rob a bank. Aunt Caroline is in a psychiatric ward. Both sets of grandparents are dead. And my last uncle is a MIA soldier from Vietnam." Finally she looked up at him, "anything else you'd like to know Mister High-And-Mighty?"
   Her tone was really starting to get to him. "Yeah, what about social services?"
   "Was in a foster home a couple years ago. Once the father took an active interest in me, I bailed." She let her eyes bore into his. "Since then I've been doing what I can to survive."
   Understanding lit his eyes, "And no one's helped you?"
   Her grin was malicious. "Of course people has helped me. How do you think I got money in the beginning?"
   The honk outside broke the moment, and Emma turned on him, going back to her show. "Time to go now, Ike." She stated harshly.
   Nodding, he stood up from the arm of the couch. "See you tomorrow, Em." Isaac called from the doorway, ignoring her scoff as he shut the door behind him tightly. She wasn't going to get rid of him because of what she'd done in her past!