As we both ate, the only sound in the room was the clinking of our utensils against the plates. At one point, she paused to say that she enjoyed my recommendation. I smiled and thanked her, but I was confident that Ashley's cooking would impress anyone. She had been begging to meet Scarlett, but I knew it was too much for her right now. I promised her they could meet another time, if there ever was one.

She had consumed quite a lot of alcohol, and I hoped the food would help to sober her up. However, her drunken state had resulted in her opening up and sharing more with me than she normally would. It made me wonder if this was why she avoided drinking altogether.

I eagerly awaited her return from the bathroom, wondering what else she might reveal to me. As the minutes ticked by, I began to worry that she had disappeared or escaped. But I quickly pushed away that thought; she was too intelligent to resort to such drastic measures. It was evident in her actions earlier.

I turned my eyes to Kristopher, who gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head. This was confirmation that she had not left yet. I could have barged in without anyone batting an eye, but I decided against it. The best thing to do was to give her some privacy. I had consumed half the bottle Viktor had given me, yet I couldn't feel the effects of alcohol at all. I found myself reminiscing about the past, when getting as drunk as she did was a regular occurrence for me. Now, it seemed almost impossible for me to get drunk.

My thoughts were interrupted when she suddenly appeared in front of me. Her expression was filled with sorrow, catching me off guard. I noticed streaks of mascara that she had tried to remove, indicating that she had been crying.

"What happened?", I asked her with genuine concern. Various scenarios came to my mind, all of them extremely bad given the restaurant's clientele. Most of the people who came here had spent several years behind bars for more than minor offenses and nothing they did was legal.

The mere idea of someone harming her, once more, stirred up a fierce anger within me. I was ready to flip the entire restaurant upside down if anyone even considered such an act.

"Not much", she replied, putting her phone on the table. "I just had a disagreement with my sister", she added in a casual tone. "She hadn't spoken to me for a few days and I was worried. I tried to call her, but I seemed to be annoying her".

I couldn't help but stare at her, using the opportunity of her short story to compose myself. The past few days had been filled with too much chaos and it was testing my patience. I knew I needed to control my outbursts of anger, as they were becoming more common recently. They weren't exactly out of character for me, but their frequency was increasing.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to burden you with my problems", she said, a tinge of regret in her voice.

She thought I was disinterested because I hadn't been fully focused on her. I tried to speak, but she cut me off before I could get a word in. My frown went unnoticed by her as she continued to talk. Alcohol had a way of conjuring images of her naked body in my mind. I couldn't help but imagine bending her over and punishing her for interrupting me.

"Did you tell the truth earlier or were you just playing with me?", she asked, but it was obvious that her priority was different at the moment. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, as if she was teetering on the edge of an emotional outburst.

"Why did you fight with your sister?", I asked, my gaze fixed on her. I didn't expect to be so affected by her tears.

"She told me she's moving out," she said, her voice trembling. "It's not a bad thing, really. I just didn't see it coming so soon. I guess she was tired of always taking care of me. I can't blame her, I would be too." She took a sip of wine, trying to hide her emotions.

I debated whether or not to caution her against consuming alcohol, mindful of how she may interact with it. But my curiosity got the best of me and I pressed for more information.

"Take care of you?" I quipped, trying to lighten the mood. "You don't seem like someone who needs anyone's help. Unless we're talking about Blaze, but that's a tale for another time." But instead of laughing along with me, she gave me a glare colder than any I had ever received from her before.

"You know exactly what I mean, quit pretending", she snapped back, her annoyance with me evident. Just the response I was hoping for. I wanted to see a glimpse of the real Scarlett behind her mask.

"So she looked after you because you used to hurt yourself?" I probed, keeping a close eye on Scarlett's reactions. I could see the familiar sweet girl I knew retreat within herself, as if trying to distance herself from the topic. "Why did you do it?"

She stuttered, her hands fidgeting under the table as she blushed a deep shade of red. This revealed a vulnerability I had not seen before, and she whispered, "I had my reasons."

"No one should have to endure such suffering. Nor should anyone entertain such dark thoughts. That is the path of the weak," I remarked, fully aware that I was eating shit. I intimately understood the feeling of powerlessness, the yearning for relief from never-ending anguish. My words were a flimsy facade to protect my own insecurities, as I had also been trapped in the same cycle of despair. I knew from personal experience that true strength was found in seeking support and learning healthier methods to cope with unbearable pain.

For half of my life, I had struggled through bouts of sorrow, making me a hypocrite for giving her guidance that I myself had not heeded. There were moments when I wanted to end it all, but Liz's steadfast encouragement saved me. This made me contemplate who had been there to rescue Scarlett. Perhaps it was her sister who stepped in, though I couldn't shake off my doubts.

Scarlett remained silent, her eyes narrowed in a tense manner. I couldn't read her thoughts, but I knew I could stop any scheme she might have concocted. She seemed scattered and not just because of the alcohol; I could sense her trying to control her rising rage, a sensation that was all too familiar to me.

I observed her hand trembling as she reached for the wine glass once more, a gesture that appeared to be an attempt to avoid facing the harsh realities and instead find solace in the numbing effect of alcohol. I let out a soft laugh, fully aware that these truths had a tendency to resurface, crashing down like an unstoppable train of reality.

The space between us grew heavy with tension, as if Kristopher and Eric were on standby, ready to intervene if things took a dangerous turn. Despite the lingering pain, I had confidence in my ability to handle the situation alone. My real concern was her potential loss of control. Though I didn't intend to harm her, I couldn't shake off the unease that had been building since the previous night. Maybe it was wise to have Kristopher and Eric nearby, just in case.

I observed her scanning the room again and my gaze followed her movements. What happened next caught me completely off guard. Without warning, Scarlett nearly knocked over the table and unleashed her fire superpowers. I had always suspected that she possessed such abilities, given her job, but I had never seen her use them or even talk about them.

Before I could even begin to make sense of the situation, Kristopher and Eric acted swiftly, holding her arms tightly and preventing her from moving. It was a bizarre and unexpected scene, one that I never could have imagined happening, even in my wildest imaginings.

The whole situation might have been comical if my shirt hadn't been ruined by the purple wine stains. Another piece of clothing was destroyed in less than a day. I shifted my focus to her, watching as she struggled against Kristopher's and Eric's hold on her. Despite her powers, she couldn't break free, and it was unclear if it was the alcohol or just pure anger that hindered her abilities. Either way, the scene was oddly entertaining.

I nodded at them, silently signaling for them to let her go. I knew she would most likely turn her attention towards me next, and my suspicions were confirmed.

I observed her nearly trip over herself as her bright red locks seemed to flicker like flames around her, mirroring the wild fervor of her drunken state. Her actions were easy to anticipate. She inched closer, swaying towards me with a fierce determination in her fiery eyes.

As her hand extended, a burst of sparks erupted from her fingers. Drunkenly fueled, she directed fiery whirlwinds towards me with rage and force.

Reflexively, I moved a step away, my heart racing as the intense heat from her flames threatened to scorch my skin. The air crackled with the intensity of her power, and the sheer force emanating from her was tangible.

Sympathy and exasperation mixed within me as I observed her struggle to keep steady. Her emotions were tightly intertwined with her abilities, and in this moment of instability, they were overflowing beyond her grasp.

Kristopher and Eric attempted to intervene, but I halted them before refocusing on her. As she prepared for another attack, I swiftly grabbed her by the throat. Her expression turned shocked as she struggled against my grasp, attempting to break free. She tried to use her strength against me, but I tightened my grip on her neck, preventing her from using any of her powers.

A gentle moan slipped past her lips, prompting me to raise an eyebrow. Despite her lack of struggle, I maintained my grip on her. It was important for her to understand the gravity of her choices, yet she appeared to be reveling in the very thing I was doing to her.

A surge of anger and confusion washed over me as I noticed the absence of fear in her eyes. Was she trying to test me? A part of her seemed to enjoy this dangerous power dynamic. I considered reaching for my knife and threatening her with it, to make her understand the true danger she was flirting with.

I couldn't help but admire the way she looked at me. There was a hint of defiance in her gaze, almost daring me to push things further. It both lifted my spirits and made me feel unsettled, giving me an exhilarating rush.

I release my grip on her throat and signal for the waiter to come and tidy up. As expected, no one around us seems to be bothered by what just occurred. Why would they be? They all have their own concerns to attend to.

----- ♡ -----

I parked my car in the driveway, right in front of the garage. Scarlett was with me, and I offered to drive her home, but she declined. I knew where she lived, but I thought it would be safer for her to come with me.

I could tell she was still upset, but she didn't resist when I took her hand and led her into the house. The feeling of her soft hands in mine brought me comfort and joy.

She had been silent ever since she got angry earlier, and I couldn't help but wonder what was going through her mind. I was also taken aback that she wasn't feeling sick from the amount of alcohol she had consumed.

I assisted her in sitting down on the couch, then made my way to the car to retrieve her bag. A part of me wanted to take a quick peek inside; old habits were dying hard. But I resisted and left the bag on another couch instead. Scarlett appeared lost in thought, her eyes locked onto the ceiling. The gentle spinning of the room was likely more noticeable in her confused state.

"Are you thirsty?" I asked with a note of amusement, my lips curling into a half-smile.

As I strolled to the counter, I grabbed another glass and poured myself a healthy amount of whiskey. My eyes caught hers as she turned in my direction. Her response was clear and simple - a middle finger raised in defiance.

"Easy there," I teased, handing her a cold can of Pepsi Twist. "On a scale of one to ten, how bad do you feel?"

I thought she might not respond, but then I heard her voice break through the silence. It sounded a bit gleeful, cutting through the tension in the air.

"Five," she replied, accepting the soda can. "I've felt worse, but this feeling isn't pleasant," she added, uncorking the can and taking a sip. "I hope my sister will get her things and leave tonight. I don't want to see her again. I've done so much to make up for all the time she's sacrificed for me, but she's never satisfied," she revealed, surprising me with her candor.

"You know, just because she helped you doesn't mean you owe her your life", I tried to reassure her, taking a seat next to her. "It was her choice. She chose to be there. No one forced her. She made a decision like an adult. You're not responsible for her happiness".

"Because of what I did, she lost her dream job and more", Scarlett replied, her voice heavy with a mixture of regret and resentment.

"Family is paramount, above all else", I stated though I wasn't referring to blood at all, eliciting a wistful laugh from Scarlett that piqued my curiosity.

"Not for everyone", she continued, her tone hinting at a deeper pain.

I unbuttoned my shirt slightly and turned to look at her, curious about the experiences that had influenced her perspective. I considered the possibility of a troubled upbringing or a devastating loss. Deciding to give her space to open up if she wanted, I stayed silent and waited for her to choose whether to share more.

"I need to get my car and go home", she said, turning her gaze to me. "Do you think it's safe to leave my VW in the parking lot at work?"

I couldn't help but smirk as I observed her futile attempt to steer the conversation in a different direction. Fortunately, she appeared more composed now, and it seemed like she had temporarily put her inner struggles on hold.

"This place is probably equipped with surveillance cameras," I reassured her confidently. I was quite familiar with all the surveillance cameras in town. "If something were to happen, they could help identify the culprit," I added.

She sighed and stated, "Those cameras are useless." This led to her retelling of troubling incidents at her workplace. She expressed her frustration with the lack of effectiveness of the cameras, questioning their practicality.

I maintained eye contact with her, nodding every now and then to show that I was listening. I reminded myself to bring up this topic with Eric at a later time. My gut told me that these situations were most likely planned by someone who wanted her job. However, there was no reason for me to voice my suspicions to her.

I made my way back to the bar and poured myself another drink. Despite my attempts to steer the conversation elsewhere, my mind kept wandering back to the moment I had put pressure on her neck. The more I replayed it in my head, the more a peculiar sensation stirred within me.

My thoughts were consumed by desire, but I refused to exploit her intoxicated state. Doing so would make me no better than Blaze, and that was something I adamantly refused to become. The echo of her delicate moan lingered in my mind, intensifying the struggle within me.

If only she hadn't been under the influence of alcohol...