When Corvo wakes up, he decides that his first priority is to stay away from that apothecary and that damn outsider.
Of course, it's not his first thought, nor is it his second or even third. He's a better man than that and so of course his first waking thought is certainly not the thought of the poultice that Emily gave him, the one that he tucked under his pillow, the one that he swears gave him bad dreams.
It can't be a coincidence. Emily said that it gave her bad dreams, too.
So, as Corvo washes his face and brushes his unruly hair, he decides that he's going to steer clear of the apothecary, that outsider and of course, sweet Granny Rags, and he's going to make sure Emily does the same.
The girl has yet to rise, but Corvo doesn't take it to heart. He's always been a morning person and because it's been cold lately and of course it's the holidays, so she doesn't actually have school today, he'll let it slide. Emily is a deep sleeper anyway, so even if he tried, he wouldn't be able to wake her. It's a habit from a life of luxury, he supposes.
He sighs, getting dressed in the cleanest things he can find. Usually he's too busy to wash his stuff unless it's his day off, but Emily's clothes are washed as soon as there's enough to fit in the machine. Luckily there aren't any stains on his t-shirt, and it is a day off, so he'll shove a load in whilst he remembers.
He fumbles with the washing machine dial, his hands sluggishly moving the dirty clothes into the bowl. Corvo knows he could do with a strong coffee right now, and perhaps a cigarette, but he's out of both. Emily's snoring in the next room, he's sure he can go out to the shops and come back before she wakes up. And even if she does wake up, she's thirteen now, she can handle herself for ten damn minutes.
He hits the on button and the bowl begins to spin. Corvo lets out a breath he didn't know he's been saving because once again he's completed this menial task without injury. Another thing to congratulate himself for, maybe.
He sits there with the laundry basket for a while, but decides after a while that this is a new kind of pathetic, even for him, and he'll be much, much better with nicotine in his lungs and coffee in his stomach. Corvo pulls himself up from the kitchen floor and checks on Emily's door, knocking gently before entering. She's still in bed, but only half asleep, rubbing her eyes before she sees Corvo and smiles at him. She has a beautiful smile, just like her mother. "Mph, g'morning, Corvo."
Corvo grins and kisses her forehead. "Good morning, sweetheart. I didn't want to wake you but I'm going out to the shops, do you want anything?"
"Was already awake," Emily lies. "Can I have some chocolate?" Corvo gives her a stern look and she rolls her eyes. "Okay, okay. What about some butteries? We haven't had them in a while."
He thinks about this for a second, then nods. "Yeah, I think we can do that. I'll even get you your special cheese for it. That sound good?"
She makes a soft sound of approval. "M'kay, but I'm going back to sleep." Emily turns her back to him, and Corvo jokingly tugs on her hair, making her laugh. "Be nice, Father."
"Yes, Daughter," he dutifully replies. He looks down just to make sure he's definitely wearing shoes (he is) and that he has his wallet in his pocket (he does, surprisingly) before leaving Emily's room as quietly as that rat she's been begging him for for the past year.
Luckily he doesn't live too far away from the high street, which has been somewhat aptly nicknamed Bottle Street by just about everyone because of the distillery and the fact that no matter what dark corner you end up in, you can always see a pile of broken glass and whisky bottles. Luckily, it doesn't take long for him to walk down. In fact, he's so engrossed in a poster advertising the Golden Cat that he doesn't even see the man he's about to walk into, and said man makes a sound of shock and surprise.
