In Captivity

Rest

The cry of a Starling awoke Emma's deep slumber. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a brief moment she forgot where she was, and the situation she was placed in. Her eyes dance across some of the familiar furniture with comfort, but the smell of fresh paint told her this wasn't home. Emma sighed into the pillow, before she pushed off the cushion. Time doesn't stop for mortal man, she might as well shower and take the time she was given to get some reading done.

For now, she would pretend that this was the leave she so desperately needed, that is until Wesker decides to kill her. Emma walked to the small walk in closet, to look at the clothes they had taken for her. Many of them were summery, which led her to the conclusion, she was somewhere near the equator, since New York has probably reached early fall by now.

Her fingers wrapped around a dark green spaghetti strap shirt with lace trim, as she also pulled at a pair of black capris she hadn't worn in years, not since Leon and she went to the beach. The memory forced a smile onto her face, as she skipped off to the drawer. With her underwear she always lacked pickiness, it's not like anyone will see them after all. A quick shower brought her back to life, and promised a good day.

"Good morning Mrs. Singh."

The gravel tone of Wesker's voice pierced the silence of her room, causing her to jump as soon as she found her way fully into the chamber. A moment passed, as she stared at the man. Her heart rate stayed at the elevated rate but she managed to breath out a reassuring sigh of relief. He wasn't holding anything that could kill her, though she knew he could do so with his bare hands. It's best however, not to think of such things at the moment.

"Good morning, Wesker." She greeted. "Please call me Emma, Mrs. Singh sounds too formal."

"Too formal for what?" he questioned.

"For a captive situation, I suppose." She shrugged, being completely honest now. "I mean you're the big boss man. You say jump I'm supposed to ask how high, if I want to live that is."

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest as he listened to her words. She's completely right, if she wants to live, she will have to listen to him, but her wording could please any god complex enriched man, such as himself. Emma eyed him suspiciously, before walking to her bed and sitting on the edge.

"You are quite right," he breathed. "But for now, I wish for you to relax and have breakfast with me and Alexia."

Her brows knitted together, as she glanced around the room. This isn't how hostage situations play out. Even though she has never participated in such a thing before, she knew what it looks like. Her first two weeks, and some days, were a nice version of what a real captive condition looked like. Usually there's torture, and almost permanent starvation. What did the man before her have planned?

A cold chill ran its way through her spine, as the sudden realization hit. What if this is the precursor of the worse torture she could imagine? What if he's trying to soften her up, before destroying everything she knew? Luckily Emma was already sitting, because her body would have collapsed in on itself.

"Mrs. Singh, are you well?" Wesker's calm voice pulled her from the panic attack.

"Y-yes, just still a bit tired from yesterday." She laughed breathlessly. "Wesker, May I ask why you're being so gentle to me?"

"You mean, why haven't I started torturing you for information?"

She nodded slowly, as a devious smirk crossed his features.

"I've killed so many others before you, that I've decided to allow you a reprieve," he paused. "For now, that is. Now let's have breakfast, shall we?"