~Pay them no mind. I'm gonna go upstairs now.~ You command to the both of them. Lindsey nods as you climb up the steps and knock on Emily's door.
"Who is it?" You hear from the other side.
~You want to let me in right now~ you command. The door is swiftly opened for you and you step inside the girl's bedroom.
You are met with the sight of a teenaged girl with dark-blond hair, circular-arching shoulders, a pointy yet small nose, and a standing height of around 5"8. She's wearing a loose-fitting blue-gray T-shirt and gray sweatpants. Her room is similarly plain in arrangement; featuring an assortment of sports, musical artists, popular movies and books. The only thing that stood out was a disproportionate amount of items relating to math and engineering--suggesting this to be her foremost passion.
"Hey uhh, my name's Emily." She says, timidly extending a hand.
"Hey Emily I'm Eric, glad to meet you." You shake. "Well, I gotta go now."
"Oh, ok." She says, confused as to what business you had entering her room in the first place, but not at all minding your immediate leaving.
Or rather, your perceived immediate leaving.
You shut the bedroom door, look over at her and state a command.
~You think that I have just walked out and shut the door behind me, leaving you alone. You are no longer aware of my presence in your room. No matter what happens, you will absolutely not realize or even suspect that I am here.~
Seeing up-close what one does when they believe they're all alone would certainly be interesting. You lay the diaper-supply bags on the floor, give your arms a good stretch after all the work they just went through carrying them, yawn a little bit, and lay your eyes down on Emily to observe what she does.
Firstly, Emily just stares at the door for a few moments to consider why you stopped by to greet her so briefly. She turns around and sits down at her computer--presumably what she had been doing when you first knocked on the door. The first thing you notice is the almost complete absence of outward emotional expression in both her face and body as she browses a number of internet outlets.
It reminds you of the sort of vacant look a person strikes when you video-chat with them. People don't emote just for no reason; they are inherently a part of communication with others. When someone isn't in the room with you, you don't think to cross your eyebrows, or shrug, or point your fingers, ext. In a video chat, your brain tends to not entirely adjust to the fact that someone is watching you--it still kind of feels like you're alone in your room. As a result, your expressions tend to be a lot less apparent.
What you're seeing right now with Emily however is a much more extreme instance of this. You watch as she views a number of cute/funny/amazing/absurd images and facts as she scrolls through Facebook, often contributing an intense reaction she types up, but with little more than a chuckle or faint smile visible on her face. In the believed solidarity of her room, Emily is reacting purely internally.
After about an hour, Emily gets off the computer, picks up a book (about 17th century architecture) and lays down on her bed to hold it above her face as she reads it.
You are impressed by this assumed 9th-grader's intellectual pursuits being so high as to be studying something so specific and technical as 17th-century architecture. You lay down on the bed next to her (rattling her around quite a bit, but thanks to the influence of the sapphire, she doesn't consider where that rattling is coming from), poke your head up right next to hers and try to read along with her.
What you figure out fairly quickly, however, is that Emily is exclusively reading the sections with giant full-color illustrations and photographs taking up 80% of the page, and skipping through the more densely informational text-only pages which make up the majority of the book.
You hum in amusement at this teenager seemingly trying to convince herself that she is a lot more technically-minded and intelligent than she probably is. You get up and flip through her books and magazines for a while. She seems to have a pretty good understanding of engineering for her age and probably has the passion to carry herself into a career in that field, but she's coming off like someone who is trying really hard to be a child prodigy but just doesn't have sufficient raw intelligence.
Another hour-and-change passes. The sun is long set. Emily finally gets up from the bed, puts the book away and closes the blinds on her windows. Then she walks over and locks her bedroom door--all with the same blank expression.
She sits back down at her computer chair and scoots back about a foot. She opens an incognito chrome window, and you watch as she punches in the URL of a porn website and hit 'Enter'. Her eyes go into a more intense focus; darting up and down along her monitor; intent on making a selection among the litany of videos available to her. Her scrolling of the mouse-wheel got faster and more flippant as she appears to be less and less interested in the options featured on the main page. As she makes it down to the long list of tags, you watch as she vacillates between a number of choices that she seems to gravitate towards. The tag referring to a mouth-related activity a man would perform for a woman, a tag related to the word "scissor", and a tag simply-titled "step brother".
After hovering her cursor over each of these for a few minutes, Emily finally settles on the last of the three options. Once this tag's page is loaded, Emily's legs start to move around a fair bit as she starts rapidly middle-clicking new tabs into existence.
====
A half hour later and Emily has finished her task multiple times over, closes her incognito window, unlocks her door and opens her blinds. Then she opens up the slim drawer at the top of her dresser and grabs for herself a fresh pair of underwear, holds them in her fist and heads to her bathroom.