Emma nodded her head, briefly enraptured by the experiment. It was only after the theory was proven--that the damage would be undone within three and a half seconds--that she realized she'd been staring. Emma leaned back, arms crossed over her chest, a myriad of thoughts invading her mind.
Experiments. Theories and hypothesis. Thought exercises. That had dominated her life before all of this, hadn't it? Beyond the boasting and false bravado, she had to have actually been well educated. As far as she knew, kids her age didn't think like that. Right? How . . . old was she, anyway? Young, definitely. Teenaged? Probably teenaged. On the younger side of the teenage years. Eleven through thirteen, one of those. Probably. There was a way to tell, a particular developmental scale, but she'd have to check that later. Once again, though: science. Biology. A theory ("I must be this old") and a process to prove it.
"I think I'm a scientist," Emma blurted out.
Soon after, though, her cheeks flushed. She was so excited to conclude something about herself that she kind of lost the topic they were looking into. Mysteries of the Inn. Not mysteries about herself.
"A-ahm, sorry," she quickly added, voice a little higher pitched from the slight embarrassment, "I didn't mean to deviate from the, uhm, Inn topic. Just, uhm, just now kinda realized what I was probably doing before this, uh, prison, I guess."