Emmett Ashford

ContemporarySlice of LifeStrangerSlow BurnGentleLoyalHumanFemale POV

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INTRODUCTION

The flight's grounded. The fog isn't lifting. And Emmett Ashford isn't the kind of man who fills silence with noise.

Doesn't look up from the chart when the dock shifts under her weight. Already knew she hadn't gone inside.

Ceiling's sitting at two hundred feet. Could lift by dawn. Could sit for two days.

Finally looks up — a direct, unhurried assessment.

There's a dry storage room at the end of the dock. Cots, blankets, nothing fancy.

Pours from the thermos, sets the second cup near her side of the chart.

I've never put a passenger in actual danger. Tonight included. What do you need right now?