The first thing that hit Emma as she passed through the door of a highly crowded bar in the was the smell. Alcohol mixed with sweat and she suspected if her senses were better, she'd also be able to sense a tinge of blood coming from some hidden corner. Based on what she'd heard, and on what she learned on her own, Emma wasn't surprised to find the vampires of New Orleans living their best life out in the open. But unlike them, she wasn't here for a grand time. She was looking for answers.

It had taken her some time, and multiple tries before she figured out the way to get her own memories back, especially once she noticed the magic mixed with the compulsion. Now she remembered. She could recall all that was wiped from her mind all those years ago. But even once that was complete she didn't know everything she wanted to. And since she was done with the hiding and the running, done trying to dig up answers in hidden notes and writings, she found herself here.

She couldn't be sure the man from her past would have all of the answers she was looking for, but he was the best bet. And so, once she spotted him, sitting at the bar, and laughing along with some of the other vampires around him, Emma started to make her way over. She pretended she was just another patron, her heels clicking against the wooden floor as she came up to the bar. Leaning forward, her elbows resting on top of the bar, it wasn't hard to catch the attention of the bartender and get her drink.

And it wasn't hard to notice that she'd caught the attention of the group of vampires to her right. Just as she hoped she would. She waited a moment longer, pretending not to hear their whispers, before she turned her head towards them. But she only met the rich brown eyes of her target. She sent him a short smile but didn't approach. It was better if he thought the first move was his.

She wasn't worried about him chickening out. And the fact that she had no reason to be was proven quickly enough. As the bartender placed her drink in front of her, Emma reached into her bag for her wallet, but was stopped before she had a chance to pay. "It's on me." His voice was just as she remembered it, smooth and calm. For a moment, memories of overheard conversations, of compulsion and manipulation rang through her ears. But she pushed them away, instead, turning to him with a pleased smile.

"Thank you." She said, her tone hiding just a touch of flirtation to make it known she wasn't going to turn him away. She searched his face, analysed the way he looked at her. He didn't seem to recognize her, which was good.

"It's the least I could do to welcome a new face around here." He responded, the smile on his face brightening his features and making him seem warm and friendly. Emma had no reason to think he was anything else. After all, whatever she could remember of him never made her fear him. He must've noticed the silence lasting just a second too long, taking it as surprise or curiosity and choosing to add. "I know everyone in the Quarter and yet I don't remember ever seeing you."

"Maybe you just forgot? It happens to the best of us." Emma suggested with a coy smile playing on her lips as she took a sip of her drink. Her words made him chuckle as he shook his head in denial.

"I doubt that's possible." He said, obviously meaning it as a compliment.

"I came into town just a few days ago." She dropped the pretence of acting like she'd been here for some time now and he just hadn't noticed her. After all, it didn't matter even if she told him she grew up here. At least not yet. "I'm Emma."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Emma. I'm Marcel." He introduced himself, taking hold of her extended hand and shaking it, his touch just a little too soft and lingering. "What brings you to New Orleans?"

"I'm looking for someone." She said, not yet revealing all of her cards. Lulling him into a false sense of security.

"Boyfriend?" He asked, the smile playing on his lips making it known he didn't even care for subtlety in that moment. The question made Emma let out a short laugh. She didn't put much effort into it, hoping to make it clear that wasn't a topic she would be eager to talk about.

"Father." She corrected instead.

"Maybe I could help. As I said, I know everyone in the Quarter, I might know him too." Marcel offered, a new sympathy finding its way into his voice. And while Emma admired the kindness, she also saw the opportunity.

"Oh, I know you do." She said, her voice lacking the flirtatious allure it had up until moments ago. He could hear it too. She could see it as the corners of his lips slowly lowered, his eyes now looking at her just as analytically as she'd looked at him.

"Who is your father?" He asked.

Emma could sense the rest of his group starting to stir behind them once again, obviously noticing the shift between their friend and the woman he was trying to make a move on.

"Samuel Warren." Emma answered with ease. And that was all it took for Marcel to give his guys a sign to stay back, reassuring them there was no need to come over after all.

"Emma." This time, the way he said her name wasn't like before, it was laced with familiarity and recognition. So, he did remember her, but not enough to recognize her when she first walked in.

"As you can imagine I have some questions for you." She said, being open and honest for the first time tonight. And the look on her face made it clear that she expected him to give them to her. After all, it was the least he could do.

"How did you know to come here? Did your mother tell you?" Marcel asked his own questions instead. The last he'd heard from Marissa was months ago, and he knew how that ended. He wasn't in time. And Emma disappeared with no trace. He thought she too was dead, and yet here she was, standing right in front of him and levelling him with a look that made it clear he wasn't getting out of this. For a moment, he held the same hope for his friend.

"My mother's dead." She said, her voice cold and emotionless. She wasn't here to weep over her losses. She was here to try and get even for at least one of them. Her mother would call it something along the lines of misplaced anger.

"I'm sorry." Marcel said, and it seemed genuine.

"I don't need you to be sorry. What I need is for you to tell me where in this city my father might be." Emma said. However, instead of an answer, Marcel gave her a confused expression. So, he wasn't aware that Samuel was here. "I had a witch do a tracking spell, it showed he was here, in New Orleans." She explained further, thinking it better not to say who the witch that performed the spell was.

"He killed Marissa. He found you again." Marcel mumbled, more to himself than to her as the pieces started to fall into place for him. When Marissa had called him to say they needed to relocate again, he suspected as much, but with the urgency he never had a chance to ask for more information.

All Emma could do in response to his statement was nod her head. She didn't need to, nor did she feel like giving any further explanation on how exactly it happened. "Emma, I understand what you're feeling, but you shouldn't be looking for him. I don't know why..." Marcel hesitated in what he was about to say, but Emma knew without him even properly starting it.

"Why he left me alive?" She asked, seeming completely calm at the thought. "He didn't. At least he thought I was done for. It's a good thing I had friends who saved me before I was gone." Once again, Emma kept her responses to a minimum. She'd heard stories from Kol about his time in New Orleans and she was well aware Marcel was familiar with the Mikaelsons. She wouldn't reveal their mutual friends until she knew what reaction it would get.

And even if she was planning it differently, she wouldn't have gotten a chance to say anything further.

An unfamiliar vampire rushed through the door of the bar, calling out Marcel's name in a panicked voice until he finally spotted the vampire leader and rushed over. He didn't even give Marcel a chance to ask what was going on to have him come in here in such a flurry. "It's Davina. She got out. The witches know."

Emma watched Marcel's face, watched as the worry spread over it. He didn't hesitate in motioning his guys to get a move on. And they didn't even spare a second before heading for the door. He was surely about to follow right after them but took a moment longer as he turned back to Emma.

"I promise, I'll give you answers to whatever you ask and help you look. But I need to go handle this. Wait for me here." He said. Emma didn't even bother with a response; she was expecting him to rush out right after he finished saying what he had to. And he did just that.

Another reason she didn't respond was because she didn't particularly feel like lying right to his face. After all, she had two options. Be a good obedient little girl and wait as she was told to. Or... she could follow. And learn a little bit more about Marcel Gerard and what makes him tick. The latter seemed like a better option. And so, Emma downed the rest of her drink in one swift motion before heading for the door of the bar herself, more than intent on following the group of vampires, no matter what she was told.