Emma prided herself on her wits. It was the one thing she could always rely on. When all else failed, she could always get herself out of whatever hole she dug. However, sometimes wit bowed to strength. To uncontrollable, brutal strength. "Ha!" He exclaimed, shoving his hands to the side. "You see! Her wits were no match to my blade!" The man pulled out his sword to emphasize his point. Emma was on her knees beneath him. Trying to hold in her smile. They forgot one important little detail. Aros has an abundance of strength. And he was in the room with them.

Emma didn't even have to think about giving the signal when Aros pounced. He pulled the scythe from his back at pressed it to the man's throat. Blood seamed at the impact.

"What was that about wits and blades?" Emma snarked as she rose, dusting herself off. "That they were no match?"

"Uh... Em?" Aros pressed the scythe closer, "This wasn't exactly a plan."

"-they don't need to know that!" She interrupted, "Plus it was as good as any!"