The two humans she pointed out were nothing special. It was a man and a woman, both in their mid-to-late twenties. Both were fairly attractive and clearly related, with dark hair and Semitic features. They were eating lunch at a sidewalk café, talking across a dark iron table and having an all-around good time.
Tim raised his eyebrow. "These people?" He turned to Emma and scoffed. "We just saw a homeless man eating a box of Bisquik with a spoon. Three blocks back there was a man in his underwear and a cowboy hat singing Country music. What is even remotely intriguing about these people?"
Emma ignored him and floated towards the couple. "Why take advantage of a spectacle that already exists when you can make a new one?"
He laughed. "Has anybody ever told you that you were a sociopath?"
"At least I'm not afraid of heights." She grinned and motioned for her ghastly companion to come over.
Tim obliged her. As he approached, he began to pick up snippets of the couple's conversation, and realized it was entirely in Yiddish. He looked at Emma again. "Are you catching a single word they're saying?"
Emma shook her head. "No, and it doesn't matter. Let's go." And she jumped into the soul of the woman. Tim followed her lead, and began to possess the man.
Possession was sort of like driving a car (an analogy that Tim constantly used around Emma, who had no idea what he was talking about): each vessel rode differently than the last, but there weren't many fundamental differences between bodies. Even going between men and women wasn't all that jarring (save some obvious nuances).
But this body was odd. Not the man himself - he was athletically built, and appeared in overall good health - but in the connection to his soul. When he opened his new eyes, Tim felt extremely off.
A glance across the table at Emma in her new body showed a similar concern. She looked very uncomfortable, and was glancing to the left and right sporadically.
"You feel it too?" Tim asked.
"I do..." Emma responded in her signature Old English accent. It was always odd hearing her talk in the body of someone who clearly wasn't British, because her voice was always the same, no matter what. "See anything fun we can do?"
Tim shook his head. "This was a dumb idea, Em... I'm going to find someone else to possess. Someone more interesting." He closed his eyes.
Suddenly, Emma leaned towards Tim, placing her hands on the table in a posture of desperation. "Tim, come on! You promised that you'd come down and do this with me, whatever it takes! It's going to be amazing, you just have to trust..." She stopped and jolted back unexpectedly. "Tim..?"
Tim was staring, wide-eyed at nothing. His mouth was a gaping hole, and the expression on his face was one of complete horror.
"Tim," Emma grabbed his hand. "What's wrong."
"It's..." He swallowed. "This body, Em. I can't get out of this body."