Call her a moron to her face. Go on, it might be fun.

At least there's someone here who is willing to enjoy the party for what it is. Emma wastes no time in closing the distance between him and herself in amicable greeting between Blacksworn.

"Roasted bear, is it?" Not all that familiar with souls (that's another X-Man's specialty, not her's), she doesn't seem to notice anything about it other than the obvious fact that it's dead. A very dead bear. "Impressive--at least they won't whine in ire about the stock being diminished for the festivities."