"Smartypants, you try doing that with a spoon, you're going to get a ball of butter covered in sugar. Creaming it's different, it makes it actually...." She was going to say mix, but she caught herself. "Combine, properly. Creaming is a kind of mixing, but it's different then just like, oh, hey, mix it."

She pauses, and then her voice loses most of it's joviality. "Uh, about that. Remember when that guy - Bach? He said my name wasn't Emily?" She doesn't want to do this, she doesn't want to tell him she lied to him, but just can't keep doing it. "He wasn't wrong. I... uhm. I sort of was- Before they-" But she has to stop, because she's thinking about it. She's thinking about it, and she's not supposed to, she'd made herself not think about it, because when she does, it's like a ball rolling down hill. The last time it'd happened, it was with Les, and before that it was with Spencer and Bach, she can't stop the way that she reacts, and she can feel herself sliding into it again. The man asking her for help, and she should have known better, because then she's grabbed- she somehow should have known, and she has to force herself to take deep breaths. Deep breaths. She forces herself not to check behind her, and she sucks in another breath. Forcing a small smile for a moment, because if you act like you're alright, you'll be alright, somehow, she continues. "Sorry. Stuff was weird, and I wasn't supposed to tell anyone who I was, and so... I apologize, you deserve better than me lying to you. It's Raleigh." She's gripping the edge of the stool with white knuckles, but besides that, she seems... sort of normal.

That is, probably unless you happen to be a detective who can read minds.