Her arms fold loosely across her chest, an intricate mask dangling from her wrist by its ribbon. A slight chill has descended on an otherwise warm evening, though her gesture is more due to the fact his words feel like an indictment.

"You played your part and I played mine."

It doesn't matter, if any of this makes her feel queasy. It matters that it's necessary.

Emilia strolls further into the gardens, not about to be chased away by a demon in a foul mood. Wrath can always leave if he decides her presence is still so intolerable to him. "Have you something against laughter and fine music?"