"Shaw is a deliciously evil opponent," Emma stated. Her own scotch sat in front of her - neat, in a glass reminiscent of a tulip - but she didn't touch it. Not yet, anyway.

Instead, she listened intently to what Marcelo had to say.

"I see," she said, finally. "Might I inquire as to the rest of the people you hope to assemble into your group?" If there was any interest on Emma's side, she hid it well. Since she knew that he knew what she was, they were both aware that she could have easily gone into his mind and plucked out whatever information she wanted. The ring would make it more difficult than it would have otherwise, sure, but Emma was an accomplished telepath. It would be akin to an escape artist getting out of a pair of special containment handcuffs. A setback, but something she could work around.

But one didn't do that to potential business partners. Not if one wanted to treat another with with respect.

"And is your wife aware of this, or are you planning on being a secretive knight in shining armor?"