"Well, I did back home. First I was a thief, then I was a bailbondsperson, and eventually, I ended up becoming a town sheriff." She kneels down, examining the lock for a moment to see if she has anything for it. But then she glances towards him, pretty certain that her career trajectory sounds a little odd to anyone who wasn't there to watch it play out. "Guess I was kind of a menace in every direction." Doesn't matter whether she was working against the cops or for them, she always had a way of raising hell.

There's no judgment on him picking locks, because - like she said - there was a time when she wasn't exactly a law-abiding citizen. Survival tends to override being a rule follower just about all of the time. "Where are you from?" Emma rises as she asks, walking over to a small storage area by her bed to see if she has anything to try on the lock. A hair pin might do it, but she's already questioning what might be on the other side of the door if it's malfunctioning like this.