Thirty-One

                                    

                                          
Somebody's Watching Me by Rockwell
"Eek! I'm so excited to see my office! I'm still surprised that you even considered doing something like that for me," Emerson shouts as she throws her bag onto her bed. It's not out of the blue for Strange to do something kind for her, but she truly didn't expect a gift from him. He's given her enough; the hospitality has been a gift itself. The moment she appeared in the sanctum, the Cloak of Levitation scooped her up and out of her chair, allowing her to travel freely. She floats beside Strange, her feet touching the ground and her legs moving as if she were taking the steps on her own. Being able to practice the motion of walking should help her more once she drinks the elixirs.
Fuck. She still has to tell Strange about the cure. He's not going to be too happy to hear she went behind his back and negotiated with the god of Mischief. Anxiety fills the sergeant's head at the thought of losing the sorcerer's trust. 
"Wong helped me set it up," Strange informs the sergeant all while trying to keep a blank face. "I suggest thanking him as well." He stops before the door, allowing Emerson to unlock it using the key. With the giddiest smile on her face, she pushes the door open. Strange stands beside her, silently hoping she likes her gift. 
"Oh my god!" She beams, taking in the scenery. It's nearly identical to Strange's with a few minor differences. The desk takes a more modern approach compared to Strange's, having an L-shaped desk with attached shelves to hold books and items. Her laptop sits neatly on the desk with a Victorian-esque lamp beside it, illuminating the dimly lit room. Sitting in the window sill are a few plants she recognizes from her study of mystical flora and herbs. A dark, earthy green Wingback chair rests in the corner to the left of the mahogany door. A soft, round rug slays flat below the chair, the colors matching perfectly. To the right side of the door stands a wooden mannequin holding a set of maroon robes. Many different shades of red are present-- the under tunic is a deep red while the over tunic is more maroon with intricate stitching. The many belts and utility holders are black which contrasts nicely with the reds. A matching baldric rests across the back of the mannequin holding the golden Dragonfang leaving the red and gold hilt to show. "Is... Is this for me?"
"I figured it was about time you retired the apprentice robes," the sorcerer supreme tells Emerson with a cheeky smile. The sergeant looks down to see a pair of boots to go along with the robes as well. Her smile widens as she floats closer to the Sorcerer Supreme. 
"I love this all so much. Thank you, Stephen." Emerson wraps her hands around his torso, giving him a gentle hug. Slowly his arms return the gesture as he softly rubs her back. 
***
After laying for hours, sleep has yet to take the sergeant. Anxiety and guilt plague her mind as she contemplates how she'll tell Stephen about the elixirs. Making deals behind his back was the last thing she wanted to do, but after this long, the sergeant is getting desperate. Strange did tell Emerson to start doing some research of her own. She managed to get a hold of her cure albeit she practically made a deal with the God of Mischief himself. Still, that doesn't excuse her lack of communication and truthfulness. She's a liar-- how could Strange fathom to trust her after all of this?
Speaking of the godly man, Emerson hasn't heard from Loki in days. She's supposed to meet with him on Friday-- something she's not looking forward to. He seems to be the type of man to manipulate and blackmail a person. He gives off all of the bad vibes. She's thankful he helped her, but there has to be a catch-- why would he do this out of pure kindness? The sergeant should probably tell Strange about the elixirs soon then if she's going to be meeting with the god on Friday.  
After glancing at the elixirs in her bedside drawer, Emerson throws her head back onto her pillow. Begging for a blissful sleep to think things over, she grudgingly spends another few hours wide awake.