[center][h3][color=00a99d]Ming Hua/Noah[/color][/h3][/center]
[color=lightcoral]"Good thing my dad taught me,"[/color] the girl said. Ming Hua released the breath he had been holding as the boat purred to life. Yes, very good.

As Emma took to the wheel, Ming Hua scrutinised her carefully. The thing about living on the streets, was that you were downright invisible. The street vendors knew street kids darted around like bullets and stray dogs, so they didn't bother to look. The passers-by and tourists who happened onto the lane looked away, out of discomfort, and a distinct sense of remorse that they were wealthier, had a home to return to. As though pity were scathing. Which meant a lot of Ming Hua's time as a kid had been spent staring unabashedly at people who preferred to think he was not there. Covertly - because civilians didn't seem to like being stared at, as he had had to learn - Ming Hua's eyes grazed over Emma, the open theatric play of emotion on her face, and the way her grip tightened over the wheel. He watched her throat work to swallow, and wondered what on Earth she had to feel guilty for.

But then the boat began to [i]move[/i] and Ming Hua was fixed where he sat, feeling his face turn to whey. The boat was caught in a lull, constantly rocking as it drove against the current toward land. [i]Which seemed so far away now.[/i]

When at last the boat beached itself, Ming Hua clambered out to sprawl on his back on the sand. He peered up at the sun, blinding himself. [color=lightcoral]"That guy that was hollering at us is gone."[/color] Ming Hua gave a cursory glance around the beach, and saw that Emma was right. Reaching out for his sneakers where he had chucked them, he belched, feeling sick. He would never get on a boat again.

Ming Hua rolled onto his side, and propped himself up on an arm. His gaze returned to Emma, who looked less...conflicted now. But Ming Hua wondered how many layers he would have to peel back just to find again what he had just seen. [color=00a99d]"We should find other people then."[/color] He thought of Mrs Rochester and grimaced. Maybe he would just head to the high school. Or would he need an explanation and supplies from her home? [color=00a99d]"You've got family you need to get in touch with?"[/color] Pulling on his shoes, his eyes didn't leave Emma's. Not until he had pulled himself back onto his feet - which felt unsteady, an unsettling sensation.

He couldn't fathom why Emma would feel guilty. But he softened his gaze, to say simply. [color=00a99d]"'Twasn't your fault. And nobody's dead yet."[/color]