Scarlett rarely regretted her decisions. Partly it was because all of her actions were always excruciatingly premeditated, and partly because even if something did happen to go wrong, she would only take it as a challenge, and have her fun. And so she waited for almost two full weeks for that feeling of thrill to come, only to find herself awake at night, a drink in her hand, her mind racing through odds and possibilities until she finally had to admit to herself she cared far more than she let on. She needed to do something.
This was why she walked into the tech room that late afternoon, glad to find it completely deserted save for the solitary figure lit by the artificial light of the computer screen - Piper. “Darling.”, she said, knowing full well there was no need for any other announcement - her accent and cadence would’ve already given her away, and she closed the door carefully behind herself, “It’s late, I was wondering if you were hungry?” Truthfully, had it been any other techie, Scarlett would’ve just barged in and made her request - but this was Piper, and over the course of her time here, Scarlett found herself particularly fond of the young girl, even protective. And so she walked up to her table, leaning her hip against it like she always did, and tapping some obscure beat with tips of her red nails as she decided to get straight to the point, “So… How do you feel about lasagna alla Bolognese? Because I want to talk to you, and I need your help, but we can’t have you starving to death.”, there was a smirk on Scar’s lips and she leaned forward to push the keyboard slightly away from Piper, “You’ve been boxed up here all day, you need to get some air. I promise they’re amazing. An Italian chef taught me. Besides, I see you eating that microwaved sorry excuse for a meal and it’s criminal.” And though Scarlett’s features remained in their usual, charming state, there were traces of genuine concern in her voice - she wanted to talk to Piper about her suspicions as to what hid beneath that carefully arranged sleeve (though she didn’t want to startle her by being too forward), as well as to ask the girl for a favour, because it felt as if she were the only person left Scar could trust with something as delicate as information about Mitchell’s daughter.
