Sylvie stared down into her beer bottle as though there was something very interesting floating around; there wasn't. She had been at Molly's for just over an hour but it was still her first beer of the evening.

"You look like someone kicked your puppy," Stella said unapologetically, watching her friend sulk.

"I hate that phrase," Brett said simply, no emotion creeping into her eyes, which remained on her bottle.

A quirked eyebrow and look of question led Brett to elaborate, once she finally looked up.

"If I had a puppy and somebody kicked it, I'd kill them."

"Who wouldn't?!" Stella exclaimed loudly but sincerely.

Sylvie just shrugged, too encompassed with the day's events to be committed to any conversation. That is what brought her to a dark table in the back of Molly's with only Stella Kidd in her atmosphere.

"Why don't you hate me?" Brett asked sadly, taking a big drink of her beer and returning her eyes to the table.

"Brett?" Stella asked seriously, waiting for Brett to look at her before she continued. "Why would I hate you? I didn't have anything to do with today, you know that," she reasoned, though rationality was not helping Brett at all right now. After her outburst she found herself wondering if she truly knew what rationality meant.

"Because you're my best friend. You should've never seen that part of me. I didn't even know I had that part until today, and now I hate myself. I can't decide if I'm more upset that Emily is upset with me or because I know I deserve it," Brett breathed out, motioning to Otis that they needed another round.

"Because you know you deserve it," Kidd answered plainly, knowing her friend all too well. "Of course you're hurt that Foster is upset with you but you're more hurt that you HURT Foster," she shrugged as though this was a conversation she had daily. "I used to get that with Kelly a lot. He'd be pissed at me and of course I hated it, but I hated that he had a REASON to be even more. I knew when it was my fault. And I'm sorry, friend, but this is totally your fault."

"What do I do?" Brett asked sadly, picking up her second beer and taking a hearty gulp.

"Well, you said she wanted to talk, right?"

"No. She said she WOULD talk, but not right now," Sylvie corrected with a sigh.

"Well that's better than nothin'," Kidd shrugged, sipping her beer. "She could've told you to never speak to her again. She could have said you aren't friends anymore. Talking eventually is better than never talking again."

"You're right," Brett told her, eyes brightening. "She could have told me to go to hell but she didn't. I would have."

"Yo I would have too," Stella threw out quietly but honestly.

"So does that mean I still have a chance?" Brett asked, eyes filled with hope at the realization.

Silence fell over the table as Stella sipped her beer, watched her doe-eyed friend, and tried to keep her mouth shut. It was clear that Sylvie was awaiting a reaction but Stella was pretty damn sure that the reaction she would have was not the one that Sylvie was looking for. It became awkward, Sylvie staring into Stella's eyes in anticipation, her friend saying nothing.

"Well?!" Sylvie finally broke, NEEDING to know what her friend would say.

"What do you want a chance at, Brett?" Kidd asked softly, watching the panic return to Brett's eyes. "What do you hope to still have a chance for?"

Brett swallowed audibly before finishing her second beer swiftly. She looked around the bar nervously, though they were not in earshot of anyone. What DID she want a chance at? She had certainly not had enough time to truly consider that very loaded question.

Her emotions had taken over today without her even having enough time to process what those emotions might mean. She could convince herself that she just felt guilty for treating her friend in such a way; her subconscious wouldn't let her lie to herself. The accurate answer was that she didn't know what kind of chance she was hoping for, but Foster had to forgive her in order for them to have a chance at ANYTHING. Brett needed a chance to see what their anything could be.

Before Brett could stutter out that she didn't know (and was terrified by it), Stella's eyes widened as she noticed the door to Molly's open. In strode Foster, looking stressed out and tired. Stella tried not to react enough to gain Sylvie's attention but it was too late.

Brett turned around, glancing at the door to see what had caught Stella's gaze; her own eyes widened before she turned back around in her seat as though she didn't notice Foster's presence. Stella looked to her friend, not surprised to see the look of fear mixed with excitement her eyes held.

"I thought she was on a date," Stella shrugged curiously.

"Maybe it's already over," Sylvie considered, wishing she could flag down Otis for another round but waiting for Foster to settle herself on her barstool, on the opposite side of the room.

"Maybe," Stella nodded. "But that would mean it didn't go too well," she pointed out.

"She said she didn't even like her," Sylvie reminded her friend, finally flagging down Otis.

"I remember," Stella said, dead pan. "Because it set you the hell off."

"Just… WHY, you know? Did you see the new Fed Ex chick? She's not even CUTE! I mean, I'm no expert but why would someone go out with someone they don't know or like?! I've been kicking myself all day for getting judgmental about it but I just don't understand!" Brett huffed, watching Otis stop at Foster on the way to their table. He said something to the woman before she swiveled her seat slightly to the left, noticing.

Foster's eyes locked with Brett's, no telling emotion behind either set. Brett felt caught (caught what, she wasn't sure). Foster felt anxious. Kidd felt uncomfortable as hell. The two stared at each other until Otis arrived with their beers.

"Hey, Foster's here. I told her you guys were over here in case she wanted to join," he told them sweetly, setting down their beverages and heading back to work.

"Yeah, right," Brett scoffed. "She DEFINITELY doesn't want to join us," she grumbled sadly.

"You sure?" Kidd asked, casually glancing between the two tense women.

"Very sure."

"Then why's she keep looking at you?" Kidd asked, watching as Brett glanced back across the room, again.

"She probably feels awkward," Brett reasoned, though her eyes didn't pull themselves away from Foster's.

"Damn, I feel awkward," Stella laughed.

"Should I go talk to her? Apologise? I should go talk to her," Brett bounced in her seat nervously.

"I wouldn't," Stella said, flat.

"But—"

"No. Brett? She said she wasn't ready to talk, right? If you go over there and push it it's only gonna push her further away. If you want your chance at…whatever, you have to respect what she needs," Kidd told her.

"I can't just sit here and look at her and not go apologise," Sylvie threw up her hands.

"So stop lookin' at her. Do you want to leave?" Stella suggested, clearly having no idea what the best plan of action was in this incredibly strange situation.

"No! If we leave she'll think I'm avoiding her."

"Maybe you SHOULD be avoiding her," Stella rolled her eyes.

"I think I'm gonna go talk to her," Brett nodded resolvedly, eyes wide as she contemplated.

"What are you gonna say?" Kidd challenged, knowing she was saving her friend from disaster.

"That I'm sorry! That I wasn't judging her and I just got caught up and that it should've never happened," Sylvie said as though that was obvious.

"Didn't you already tell her all that?"

"Well… yeah but I want to make sure she knows I mean it," Sylvie argued.

Stella face-palmed.

"Oh, Brett. You silly kid. What happens when she wants to talk about WHY you got caught up? About what made you feel so overwhelmed you snapped the hell out? Are you gonna be able to tell her why?"

Brett's face fell. She had no idea what she would say if Foster wanted an explanation. Of course Foster would want an ACTUAL explanation, and she deserved one. She glanced at Foster again only to find the woman staring at her face. That was it. All of her strength, all of her resolve and fear flew out the window upon seeing the look in Emily's eyes. Rationality be damned. She would talk to her tonight.