The True Story of Emily Lockwood / g. karim

𝟛. 𝕎𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣

Winter had settled over London like slumber - quiet and all-encompassing. Since their very first case that Autumn, many had called upon Lockwood and Co. for all their psychical needs.
And, as for the trio, well, you'd look at them and assume they'd been in each other lives all along. They'd grown closer, both as a team and a found family.

George confided in them that his parents weren't very happy with him, since quitting his perfect job at Fittes. Emily could empathize, she was sure her parents wouldn't be proud of her either.

"Anthony," the girl shivered, snuggling deeper into her green sweatshirt. "let's get a fire going." the boy blew into his hands, cold from the brisk walk he took to buy more salt bombs.

"Couldn't agree more," he nodded, and Emily went to the backdoor to find some proper wood. George was in the kitchen, cleaning.

"I could help you," the girl offered "do the washing up, you know." The boy turned to face her and speak, but she took all the thoughts from his mind when she pushed his darling glasses back up his nose, as they'd fallen down.

"Ah," he chuckled "thank you." She smirked, a trait she shared with her brother.

"Nothing else to keep you busy?" She asked over her shoulder, as she gathered wood up into her arms.

"Not really, besides maybe a bit of research." he admitted. Emily turned around.

"Oh, dear," she tsked "that simply will not do for our boy. Game of chess?" He shrugged.

"Whatever you'd like," George told her, and resumed his cleaning. In the parlor, Emily could her Anthony ripping up paper, to get the fire ready to be started. It was days like today, cold and gloomy, that the girl adored most. It was like a little cozy break, from reality.

"I see you've coaxed George from his cleaning," Anthony snickered "that's brave." Emily shook her head and set the wood down.

"Mm, your humor is astounding," she retorted playfully "must be my charm." Anthony scoffed.

"Charm you learned from me, of course," he said smugly, nudging her with an elbow.

"In your dreams, Ant," At that moment, George walked in, carrying a rather large notebook under one arm.

"What's that about charm?" he asked, face screwed up in confusion.

"Ah, George, be our judge!" Anthony said gleefully

"Which one is more charming?" Emily inquired, fully invested now. George frowned.

"Why?"

"Oh, please, it's just a bit of fun," Anthony pleaded with the boy.

"Fine. You, Lockwood." Emily gasped, pretending she'd been shot.

"How rude," she turned her nose up, jokingly as Anthony knew - but George was still a stranger to the twins' humor.

"Simply a truth," her brother shrugged.

"I just-" George sighed "don't know you," This time, Emily's reaction was genuine.

"George, how many times do we have to save each other's lives," she began, grabbing the chessboard and setting it up. "before you say we do know each other?"

"Do you want an actual number or-" Emily cut him off with laughter.

"No, you twat," she booped his nose. "let's just play chess."

All the while, Emily saw Anthony sitting in his armchair, watching the interaction with a bemused expression. This was getting interesting.