"What do you want, Lapin?" Gris-Gris asked harshly without turning around. At first Emil was startled by the sudden question; he hadn't realized Gris knew he was in the room. Then it occurred to him that Gris had probably seen his reflection in the window.

"I…uh…can we talk?" Emil stammered, wishing he was anywhere else. He had a feeling it wasn't going to go well at all, but now that the question was asked, he couldn't back down.

Gris turned around and faced Emil, his eyebrows raised. He hadn't expected such a question from the young thief. From Theoren, perhaps, or even Remy, but not Emil. Gris had to wonder what was up. "Bel an' LeBeau send ya?"

"Non. I t'ink if either of dem t'ought dey could talk to you 'bout dis, dey would've come demselves." Emil replied.

"You t'ink you can make me see reason, punk?" Gris sneered. "Stop wastin' your time."

"Tryin' to make you see reason ain' exactly why I came after you, Gris." Emil admitted. "I realized while I was in New York dat you an' I need to talk."

"I don' need to talk to anyone, least of all you, Lapin. Save it." Gris began to leave the room, but what Emil said next stopped him in his tracks with curiosity.

"Has it ever occurred to you dat de t'ings I say don' annoy anyone around here but you?"

Gris stayed by the door but turned his head and looked at Emil, a questioning expression in his dark eyes. "What 'bout Marceaux?"

Emil chuckled. "Oui…Theo gets annoyed wit' me, mais he's my cousin an' he's known me since I was born. He's used to me. He don' say much 'bout it anymore."

Emil sat down at the table and motioned for Gris to join him. Gris sat across from him, hostility emanating from his every movement. "How come ya push all my buttons an' no one else's?" He asked gruffly. He didn't like the conversation at all, but he was curious all the same. Of course, he would never admit that to anyone.

"B'fore I answer dat, why do you hate me so much?" Emil wanted to know.

Gris frowned. "You're an obnoxious little punk you needs to grow up and learn dat you can' jus' say whatever you t'ink."

"Go ahead, Gris. Don' hold back. Tell me how you really feel." Emil snickered sarcastically. He really couldn't help himself; Gris made it so easy.

Gris' frown deepened into an actual scowl. He didn't say one word. He didn't have to.

Emil stopped snickering. "Okay, okay. Point made. But you gotta admit, you made dat on real easy."

"I don' have to admit not'ing." Gris snapped. "You gon' answer my question or not?"

"God, you're impatient." Emil muttered. He clapped a hand over his mouth in horror. He hadn't meant to say that out loud, but like a lot of things, it just slipped out before he could stop it.

"Lapin…" Gris said, his voice dangerously low and menacing. His eyes were flashing angrily. It was clear he was losing patience with Emil, who noticed and smartened up immediately.

"T'ing is, Gris, I don' like you any more den you like me. To be honest, I've hated you for years, an' not jus' b'cause I'm a t'ief an' you're an assassin. To answer your question, I guess I do an' say t'ings to annoy you b'cause I can' exactly kill you, much as I'd…" Emil's voice trailed off. He didn't really want to say the words. Killing people was not the way of the Thieves Guild, although sometimes they overlooked that for the sake of ridding the world of an assassin or two.

The two men sat across from each other in silence for a few moments, letting the words hang in the air between them. The only sounds to be heard in the kitchen were the clock on the wall ticking off every passing second, and water dripping in the sink. Aside from those two sounds, the silence in the room was deafening, until Gris finally spoke.

"You want me dead." It wasn't a question.

Emil sighed deeply and nodded in agreement. He wasn't about to deny it, seeing as he'd wanted the other man dead since he was a kid.

Gris noticed the sadness that crept onto Emil's features and asked in as non-hostile a voice as possible,

"Why?"

Emil sighed again. "I didn' t'ink you'd remember. Den 'gain, you prob'ly didn' even know at de time...How good is your memory, Gris?"

Gris stiffened again, glaring at Emil. "What has dat got to do wit' anyt'ing?" he demanded.

"Jus' wonderin' if you can remember somet'ing you an' Julien did t'irteen years ago, dat's all." Emil replied quickly, realizing that he had inadvertently said something annoying again. "Marius didn' order it, it was somet'ing de two of you did on your own."

The sadness that was evident on Emil's face and in his eyes had made it's way into his voice before he finished speaking and he was very close to tears. The memories were not happy ones; they were, in fact, really very painful.

"Julien an' I didn' do many t'ings dat Marius didn' order." Gris commented. "Or rather, I didn'. Julien had his own agenda." Gris thought for a minute, trying to place what Emil was referring to. It didn't take him long to remember. "De t'ing dat stands out from 'bout dat long 'go is when he an' I killed Francois an' Marie Lapin. Marius was really pissed at us for dat one, I guess b'cause Marie was Jean-Luc LeBeau's sister."

Emil raised his eyebrows, silently inviting Gris to make the connection. That didn't take long either. Gris wasn't a stupid man.

"I don' see what dat has to do wit…oh. Your parents."

"Wow, I'm impressed Gris! You figured it out all on your own! What kinda sticker do you want, a smiley-face or a star?" Emil replied quietly, his voice full of sarcasm and pain. "Ya wan' know what's worse den comin' home an' findin' out somebody broke into your house an' murdered your parents?"

"What?" Gris asked, deciding not to glare at Emil for his previous comments.

"Bein' dere an' watchin' it happen." Emil said, tears springing to his eyes in spite of his best efforts to stop them. "I was twelve, Gris. Jus' a kid. I still have nightmares 'bout it sometimes."

"What do you want me to say, Lapin? 'I'm sorry'?" Gris asked darkly.

Emil snorted. "Why start now? You're de big bad assassin, you're never sorry for anyt'ing you do."

"Den what's your point?"

"De point, Gris, is dat I hate you more'n you hate me, an I t'ink I have a better reason. An' since we both hate de unification, how 'bout we put our personal differences aside an' at least pretend to accept it? De others're all workin' pretty hard to make it work, you know. Dey'll never have to know de truth unless we tell dem, either. What do you say?" Emil asked, hoping for the best.

"Non." Gris replied shortly. He got up and headed for the door. "De unification is a foolish waste of time an' dey'll realize dat soon enough. I won' have any part in it, even pretend." He said, pausing at the door. He turned back and stared at Emil. "If you're as smart as you are obnoxious, you'll watch what you say 'round me in de future, Lapin, or you'll find yourself joinin' your parents."

Emil sighed as Gris left the kitchen, slamming the door on his way out. "Don' you t'ink dere've been times when I wanted to?" he asked the empty room, tears running down his cheeks in silent rivers.

Ten minutes later, emotions in check, Emil rejoined the others in the living room, glad to see that Gris wasn't there. The renewed sparkle was gone from his eyes again, having been replaced by a sad dullness that even the assassins couldn't miss.

"Emil, what happened?" Theoren asked, concerned. "Gris stormed out of de house 'bout ten minutes ago without stoppin' to say a word to de rest of us."

"I had an idea I t'ought might work." Emil chuckled sadly. "I know a lot of his attacks 'gainst me are de result of t'ings I say, an' I t'ought if he knew why I say dem, he'd lighten up an' come 'round. I was wrong. I'm sorry."

"You tried Emil. Dat's all any of us can do." Bella Donna said softly.

None of them asked what Emil was talking about. Most of them had a good idea that whatever caused Emil to say stupid things to Gris was also the reason for his downward emotional spiral. They also knew that if he wanted them to know, he'd tell them, in his own good time.