Emilie played the dutiful housewife; she maintained the house, paid the bills from their joint account and thrived on having some time alone. Her cooking, raw or burnt, experimenting with new recipes, all the effort that went into providing a meal for the man she loved. The food was inedible; Rylan teased how if they had a dog, it would turn down offerings, he made it up to her with a restaurant meal or takeaway pizza. It concerned her, Rylan began to notice a change in his waistline, Emilie kept herself fit by jogging, and her future husband seemed allergic to such activities. Opening up another cookbook, Emilie gripped it, determined to keep them both in check.
Frustrated, Rylan leaned back in his chair questioning his decision, progression in this job was hard, the deadlines lingered, strict, uncompromising. As a freelancer, the freedom to set his own rules and deadlines, however, the steady pay check helped him buy a house and stabilised his struggling finances. He looked at the rigid life he had, Rylan hated the forced structure of school, go there, do this, the monotony of the everyday worker. They were pushing him towards team leader roles, Ziva had success pairing crucial feedback and praise, he considered this the way he should approach the situation. Rylan’s reputation for mischief, however, saw his reflection on a co-workers performance backfire. Their conversation began politely, friendly as Rylan moved to the issue of their work performance having lapsed. Confusion and anger followed as the co-worker struggled to comprehend Rylan, as he changed tactics at the end to praise the good they continued to do. The manager called him over after a complaint, putting it across that his management skills were lacking and a possible demotion may be in his future.
Being a housewife was an act, Emilie loved to play, sweet innocent beauty hid her dark side. Rylan pranked predominantly friends and family, moments they found humorous and on other occasions, downright annoying. Emilie loved approaching strangers, mischievous intentions, using hand buzzer greets, preposterous rumours regarding gym shower woohoo and fake news involving a kitten trapped in air ducts at the bowling alley. Her antics met with strong disapproval, the gym-goers felt embarrassed, Emilie laughed; what she needed to complete her life, children. They, she hoped, would share her love of chaos.
Home alone, Emilie found lots to keep her amused, she trolled forums adding controversial opinions, watching the commotion unfold as people argued over her comments. She had done a computer course at school, these skills Emilie honed, focusing on hacking peoples e-mails, sending rude messages to their contacts list. The hacking escalated quickly, Emilie created phishing e-mails to access accounts, and she accumulated small amounts over a few weeks, adding them to the joint account. Adding to the wedding fund this way seemed helpful, Emilie earned nothing from her voluntary work, however, her crime spree was short-lived, one account hacked previously, followed her trail and a larger sum taken as compensation.
Anxiously, Emilie waited, her future husband had financial ambitions, and he saw their current house as a stepping stone towards something greater. Emilie played her naive card, blaming some e-mail she thought was legit; the results impacted their bank account. Rylan comforted her; Ziva could implement some tougher security to protect them in future.