Chuck had decided a number of important things in her life. When her father had passed, she had decided she would move in with her two aunts—well, not quite decided, but regardless it was, in essence, a sort of decision. She had decided to go on that cruise. She had decided to be a good person. But her current decision, though menial, was regardless another thing decided.

She admired blondes. She found the color was something that took a great deal of effort to pull off, uniqueness that Chuck, herself, was not willing to live with. Something about the lustrous shade made a person stand out, and Chuck looked to anyone who could stand out so boldly and still enjoy it with interest.

This particular blonde whom she had made the decision about happened to be a certain Olive Snook.

The miniature waitress was forcing out her own brand of pie-laced glee to the customers as Chuck idly examined from the back-counter, forbidden from touching a thing whilst Ned and Emerson went about their business elsewhere identifying corpses and other questionable acts of necromancy that was not quite so necromantic. Chuck found herself wondering an array of interesting things. Was Olive a natural blonde? How did one happen upon a shade so brilliant?

Chuck's mental etch-a-sketch always made Olive into a red-head, somehow. She found the girl to be brilliantly outspoken in so many ways (even if they were at Chuck's expense), fiery and vivid and opinionated to almost dangerous ends. All of that, in the Chuck's head, evened out to auburn, or perhaps a calm copper.

But upon Olive's head sat no form of dusty red. Every hair was a spun gold, and that made Chuck's little nose scrunch in a slightly irate way. She liked what she saw in her head better, when it made a little more sense.

"Thanks for your productivity," Olive's high voice yanked Chuck from her reverie, "It's so appreciated in pie-world."

Sarcasm was Snook's forte, Chuck had found, but her motto had always been that you caught more honey with flies than with vinegar. So she just smiled, and hardly a thought against the beautiful waitress even flickered across her mind. She watched Olive snatch up a cherry pie from the counter and wander off with it to the designated table, returning to her intent study of the woman's follicles. They seemed to shimmer in the light.

Chuck's nature was one of simple captivation. She never thought twice before losing herself to detail, which was why she seemed to love books so much. To Chuck, Olive was the moving character in a novel she found herself already knee-deep in. Her eyes plastered themselves to Olive's back, tracking every motion with precise ingenuity.

It was in that moment that Charlotte Charles had begun to fall for Olive Snook, and Olive Snook had just begun not to take notice of said falling.