"If you could handle it -- physically, psychically, or emotionally -- you wouldn't be confessing to me right now," Emma retorted. "--and if I'm noticing without peeking, you are too going to sprain your brain, because you're doing it wrong."

Emma got up to pad into her tiny kitchen area and pour herself a glass of water. "Since you're a damned idiot and not going stop whatever I say - Atlas - you're going to start doing it right. Starting with me patching whatever you've broken in the last few months."

Emma was going to kill Morton. Slowly.