[He can hear something frying, and there's a scent of something like grease, although that could just be the moon's natural and horrible aroma. The air is really bad, Emil knows that much, and he's not sure whether it's that which makes him feel sick, or the fact that he's hungry. So, he can hear something frying... And, way too trusting (of his surroundings, of everyone), Emil's made his way up to a stand selling food. It's not great food by any definition ‐ it's just doughy protein and a nasty amount of oil. Emil doesn't see any of that, though. The most notable thing about him is that he's blindfolded.]
Um... Well, hi! [he chirps at the alien who's running the stand. Not that he knows an alien from anyone else.] I think you have food, right? Do you have spaghetti? [...] Um, fettucini, maybe? Shrimp scampi... [... ... ...] Excuse me?
[The frycook keeps frying up those bits of dough. Emil rocks back on his heels a little, hands folded politely behind his back.] Hi! So... Chicken noodle soup? [he tries.]
(second)
[Emil still hasn't acquired a mask, but that's not what's left him pale. Rather, he's been caught up in a crowd, and it's frying his nerves. He'd be wide-eyed if not for his blindfold; as it is, his lips are parted in constant surprise, and he wobbles.] Be careful! [he keeps saying, whenever someone gets too close— ] Please be careful! [He's jostled again, and starts, holding his hands up in front of his face.] Uh, if you want to just— You can just push me over to the side! Actually, please do that!
(third)
[And, ultimately, Emil's gotten rounded up into some excitement. Here, too, there are more people than he feels comfortable being so close to. Finally — finally! — there's some reprieve. He's ushered into a chair. This seems a lot less scary than having people right up next to him... Swallowing, and sighing, Emil visibly relaxes in his seat, folding his hands in his lap and turning his face down towards his knees.
Then someone starts going on about... a game?! Emil can't see it, but there's a board game set out in front of him. After the alien spearheading this event is through announcing the game, Emil kicks his feet a little and smiles with cheer and less anxiety, curling his fingers over his thighs.]
Well, I don't really know the rules, [he says to the person seated across the table,] but I'd be happy to play with you!
Emil (Nier)
[He can hear something frying, and there's a scent of something like grease, although that could just be the moon's natural and horrible aroma. The air is really bad, Emil knows that much, and he's not sure whether it's that which makes him feel sick, or the fact that he's hungry. So, he can hear something frying... And, way too trusting (of his surroundings, of everyone), Emil's made his way up to a stand selling food. It's not great food by any definition ‐ it's just doughy protein and a nasty amount of oil. Emil doesn't see any of that, though. The most notable thing about him is that he's blindfolded.]
Um... Well, hi! [he chirps at the alien who's running the stand. Not that he knows an alien from anyone else.] I think you have food, right? Do you have spaghetti? [...] Um, fettucini, maybe? Shrimp scampi... [... ... ...] Excuse me?
[The frycook keeps frying up those bits of dough. Emil rocks back on his heels a little, hands folded politely behind his back.] Hi! So... Chicken noodle soup? [he tries.]
(second)
[Emil still hasn't acquired a mask, but that's not what's left him pale. Rather, he's been caught up in a crowd, and it's frying his nerves. He'd be wide-eyed if not for his blindfold; as it is, his lips are parted in constant surprise, and he wobbles.] Be careful! [he keeps saying, whenever someone gets too close— ] Please be careful! [He's jostled again, and starts, holding his hands up in front of his face.] Uh, if you want to just— You can just push me over to the side! Actually, please do that!
(third)
[And, ultimately, Emil's gotten rounded up into some excitement. Here, too, there are more people than he feels comfortable being so close to. Finally — finally! — there's some reprieve. He's ushered into a chair. This seems a lot less scary than having people right up next to him... Swallowing, and sighing, Emil visibly relaxes in his seat, folding his hands in his lap and turning his face down towards his knees.
Then someone starts going on about... a game?! Emil can't see it, but there's a board game set out in front of him. After the alien spearheading this event is through announcing the game, Emil kicks his feet a little and smiles with cheer and less anxiety, curling his fingers over his thighs.]
Well, I don't really know the rules, [he says to the person seated across the table,] but I'd be happy to play with you!
[Except... he can't see... the board...]