Considering his own inner turmoil, Emi's distraction went unnoticed. Instead, he held out the bottle, trying to focus on that rather than the way he had coolly gazed into the other person's eyes - he was human, dammit. A perfectly normal human who was organizing an event for everyone to have a fun time, and not... whatever creature could compel people like that. Compulsion. The name popped into his head as if it were perfectly ordinary, which couldn't bode well.

Maybe he wasn't as normal as he wished he were.

"I think it's working so far." He genuinely meant it too. The other organizers may not be aware of his Numbered status (he suspects it's for the best, considering how much he hated this job). "The other guys were thrilled to see Numbered openly helping us. I figure, if things go well, we could have the town on our side again."