A deep frown marred Hall's bland features when, four hours later, he collected Josh from the living room; Emma would receive them in her bedroom which, judging by Hall's reaction, was an unusual occurrence.

Her bedroom was a strange hybrid of personal and hospital room, with an unmade bed that clearly aimed to bridge the gap between both worlds; there were more monitors around it than Josh had seen in some actual hospital rooms, but most of them seemed to be unused. There were two other doors, one open to reveal a part of a desk with papers cluttering every inch Josh could see, and another which Josh assumed led to a private bathroom. There were horizontal bars lining the walls a little below waist level all over the bedroom.

And then there was Emma.

If Emery Hall was blandness in tailored clothes, Emma Hall was the exact opposite. Sitting on a wheelchair in sweaty workout clothes, with her wavy dark brown hair all over her face and a hard look in her shaky brown irises, it was readily apparent that she would have been beautiful, if life had treated her more kindly.

Was beautiful still, if one looked past the oddly curved spine — scoliosis, Josh would wager — and the eyes that never stayed completely still in their sockets, wavering slightly as if she were an antique porcelain doll. Her speech had a faintly slurred quality to it; anyone who heard her would understand that her train of thought was lightyears away from what crossed her mouth.

Hall looked at his sister, dismayed. "Emma," he gestured in her general direction, "really?"

"What," she asked, chin jutting out, "was I supposed to play dress up for the babysitter? Must have missed the memo."

"Emma, please. You never—"

"Put it in an email next time. Telepathy isn't working." She spared Josh a scathing look, her head twitching involuntarily. She continued to address her brother as if Josh weren't even in the room. "So this is the new hired help. At least this one's easy on the eyes." A grin that was more than a bit wolfish. "Want to bet on whether he lasts the week?"

Josh just loved the smell of hostility in the morning.

Hall pinched the bridge of his nose, black-framed glasses lifting up before falling back into place. He seemed poised to speak but Josh took the opportunity to have a say in the conversation.

"I thought we could talk. Discuss expectations, that sort of thing."

"And he speaks. How quaint." She was still addressing Hall. "Tell your new minion he's better-looking when he's quiet."

Josh had seen this before, this behavior that bordered on emotionally violent, from a few of his clients. It tended to mean they saw Josh as a threat to their relationships with their loved ones. The unfortunate thing was, some of them weren't wrong; there were people who were even less cut out to deal with the impending death of those they cared about than others. Those were the ones likely to pull away, seeing Josh as someone to absolve them of any lingering guilt — if a suitable emotional crutch had been arranged for, then they weren't neglecting their loved ones, they thought.

They were also the ones hit hardest once the actual death had happened, whether at the funeral or years down the road. The weight of things unsaid and moments not lived was a powerfully destructive force. From his brief conversation with Hall earlier that day, he didn't think he'd be one of those, but it was too early to tell.

"This is Mr. Winters. I'm quite certain you can be civil enough to at least talk to him."

"Mmm." She made a show of considering his words. "You're right, I can. Whether I want to waste my time? Different matter."

Hall's face hardened, but Josh didn't miss the despair in his eyes. "You will at least do him the courtesy of—"

"Mr. Hall," Josh cut across him. "Like I mentioned, whether or not I take this job depends on how well I think I'd be able to work with your sister—"

"A smart one, for once," she interrupted before addressing him directly, "I'll save you the trouble of finding out. Not at all well. Run along now."

"—and I don't think we can begin to evaluate that with you in the room," he continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Could you please leave us alone?"

Well. He'd managed the stunning feat of shutting up two Hall siblings in one go. He ought to get a medal for that.

Emma recovered first. "Want to be alone with me, little minion? Brave."

"As you can see, Mr. Winters, I don't think—"

"Please." His tone at that moment made it clear that it was a command rather than a plea, but if there was one area where Josh knew where to draw the line, it was this one. If Hall couldn't abide by what Josh had told him earlier, then there'd be no point in working here. "We'd like the room."

It was obvious that Hall wasn't used to being talked to that way. His posture tense, his back ramrod straight — capitulating seemed a tremendous effort. "Very well. Do I have your word you won't leave without talking to me?"

"Of course."

Hall nodded, stiff as a board, and then, with an "Emma" in lieu of goodbye, left the room, closing the door behind him.

Emma looked at Josh as if he were a particularly interesting insect. "Save the speech. Don't want you here. If you're true to your word, you won't take the job."

"You're getting ahead of the discussion. Can you tell me why you don't want me here?"

He could almost guess that the reason she didn't roll her eyes was that she couldn't control them quite that well.

"Don't have time for this. He must be offering a lot of money, but I don't want you around. Sucks to be you. Need a tissue?"

She hadn't offered him a place to sit, but he was beginning to see he'd be waiting a very long time for her to extend him any sort of social nicety. Josh didn't mind standing, but he knew her neck would tire soon. He crossed the room and sat on the edge of her bed as nonchalantly as possible. Emma's electrical wheelchair buzzed as she turned around to face him.

"Okay, you don't want to tell me, that's fair. How about I tell you? You don't want me here because you think the more you see of me the less you see of your brother. You had a medical scare of sorts, needed a stay in the hospital, or you fell out of bed and no one found you until the next morning; he panicked, and lately he's become more about safety and rules than about human interaction. Annoying him is the last means of communication available to you. How am I doing so far?"

"I don't fall out of bed," she replied mutinously. Josh took it as a win.

"The thing is, Ms. Hall, you're looking at this from the wrong angle. I'm not an obstacle, I'm a tool. You're welcome to use me to get what you want."

She looked at him appraisingly. "New pitch, I'll give you that. Here to woo me? So I'll fall helplessly in love? Marry you just before I keel over? I said you were easy on the eyes, buddy. Not that my dying self wanted to declare my undying love for you."

Josh laughed at that. His sexuality wasn't something that usually came up in conversation but, in this particular instance, he felt it would help her drop her guard a little. "I'm afraid you're the wrong gender for that."

"Oh?" That caused a calculating glint in her eyes to appear out of nowhere. "Gay, are you?"

"Very gay."

"Hmm." She tapped a finger to her mouth in consideration, looking him over with renewed interest. Josh felt somewhat unsettled by her reaction. He'd meant to do away with her fears of unwelcome seduction attempts — no matter how flippantly she put them, he imagined there was a kernel of truth at their core — not... whatever this was.

"Okay, then. I'm listening: tell me how you can be a tool."

"Your brother obviously cares very much about you." She snorted, not so much in disbelief but as someone who felt that was entirely beside the point. "And what you're feeling, the difficulty reaching him, I guarantee you he's feeling it too on the other end. Use me to bridge the gap. I'm on your side here, not his — I can be worked into whatever strategies you're considering."

"Want to have normal interactions with my brother. Not plot world domination."

"And yet I can imagine you guess world domination would be easier to accomplish."

The first hint - the barest glimpse - of a genuine smile graced her eyes. The corners of her mouth never moved. "Where did he find you? You're not like the others."

"I worked with Mrs. Davies."

This time she did smile. She thought of herself as the big bad wolf but all it took was the mention of the cook to pierce her armor, however momentarily.

"Did you know her? Before?" Her tone had lost its combativeness.

"No. I was only hired three months before she passed. A friend recommended me."

"You missed her excellent chicken pot pie." She pulled herself together, dropping the smile. "Rude of her. Falling ill. She was supposed to be feeding me until my dying day."

"No, she wasn't," Josh replied, catching the trap with ease, "she was supposed to spend her retirement years on a cruise ship and never cook for anyone again in her lifetime."

"You're right," Emma agreed, one corner of her mouth curving upwards in a knowing smirk. "Seems you know how to listen."

"I do. So what do you say, Ms. Hall? Give me a chance and we'll re-evaluate in a week?"

"Cut the Ms. Hall. My name is Emma."

Josh's smile over his victory was on the inside. "Emma, then. And you can call me—"

"Minion. I'll call you minion. I'll let you know if you become important enough to name. You won't last longer than the week, anyway. Now get out. I need a shower."

She was going to be a challenge, but he liked her already.

He made his way to Hall's office, where the man pounced the moment Josh entered the room. "Mr. Winters. Is there any way I can persuade you to change your mind?"

Josh knew what he was assuming, but he couldn't be blamed for taking his fun. "You've decided against hiring me, then?"

Hall gaped, forgetting to look dignified. "My sister agreed?"

"For a week, then we'll reassess. I'm hoping she'll warm up to me."

Josh had no idea how many others had come before him, but the speed with which Hall placed a contract in front of him was telling. The contract was fairly standard, if one discounted the size of the paycheck, and all Josh required was the addition of the need for weekly re-evaluations. Once that was done he extended a hand that Hall shook with a firm grip.

"I'll go and pack, and move in later today. If that works for you, Mr. Hall?"

"Emery, please." He shared his sister's distaste for formal addresses, then. Curious, since he was so formal in everything else. "Can I call you anything other than Mr. Winters?"

"Take your pick," Josh said with a grin. "Josh, lady-in-waiting, minion... I'm a man of many names."

Hall's — Emery's — quiet huff of laughter told him he hadn't overstepped. "I believe I'll stick to Josh, if you don't mind."