the devil's daughter.

Given the combination of the bartender’s lackluster tone and expression, Scarlett felt like it was safe enough to say she’d indeed come to the right place. Normally, she wouldn’t be caught dead in a dive like whatever the name of the bar was, but for once in her life, being recognized by another person was the very last thing the brunette wanted that evening. No, she’d much rather just sit back, decompress, and blend in with the rest of the crowd, despite not being anywhere near as rowdy as some of the other patrons who seemed to have their eyes glued to the television, beer and various other forms of alcohol spilling out of their glasses and bottles when they didn’t even bother to tear their gaze away long enough to actually focus on what they were doing before taking a sloppy swig and then slamming it back down against the bar-top again.

“Umn,” Scarlett pondered, glancing over the top shelf variety. They certainly weren’t anything she was accustomed to, given the fact that they’d be a lot lower at her normal haunts, leaving her to choose the safest option of ordering a failproof drink that pretty much every bar served, no matter how small or how much of a hole in the wall they truly were.

"My apologies. I wasn't intending to come of as that type of person." He could be a little sleazy sometimes, sure, but he didn't typically like to come off that way. He liked to believe that he had some dignity, and really he wasn't like most of the men that he had met in the criminal underworld.

"Well, lucky for you, I happen to have a sizable amount of spending money and good taste in drinks." He gave her a look, the corner of his mouth upturning into a smirk. Something told him that they were going to get along just fine.

"Here's to hopin' your spending habits match your name, Maximillian," Scarlett smirked from behind her glass as she finished the remainder of her old fashioned and gestured for the bartender to return so another round could be ordered. "Another one of these and whatever the gentleman wants. Everything's on his tab tonight."

Once Max's drink had been added and the bartender left to prepare them, Scarlett slid a little closer to the edge of her seat, long, tanned leg subtly brushing up against his in the process. Flirting was the name of one of her favorite games, and when she found something she liked, she went all in with no holds barred and no regrets. Any potential consequences be damned.

"One too many meetings with one too many international business associates." It was the general gist of the story anyway. Max didn't necessarily need to know every single detail of why she'd been up since before sunrise and still had no plans to curl up under the covers anytime soon, despite that it was well after sunset.

"How about you? Do you try and pick up women in bars often, or did somethin' about me in particular catch your eye?"

Grant didn’t bother hiding the low groan that slipped out at her retort. Here he was, trying to show he cared, and Scarlett still had to fire back at him. “No, Scar — I didn’t mean it like that at all. C’mon, you know me better than that.” His tone softened, though the exasperation was still there. “Besides, you couldn’t look rough if you tried. I just meant you seem… anxious. Worn down. Maybe you don’t realize it, but I do care about your well-being.”

It frustrated him that she could even think he’d implied otherwise; especially when, in his eyes, she was the most breathtaking woman in the world. Maybe she didn’t know how deep that went for him, how much he wished she did. But he also knew when he was fighting a losing battle. Scarlett on a mission was unstoppable, and there wasn’t a doubt in his mind she’d close this deal and then move on to the next without missing a beat. Still, he worried about her. About how much she gave and how little she kept for herself. Who was he to say, though?

His reflection caught hers in the mirror, and his hazel eyes softened. “I know. You’ve got this. You always do. I have absolute faith in you — not that you need it.” She was strong, independent, and probably didn’t give a damn what he thought, but he needed her to hear it anyway. Grant drew in a quiet breath, letting a gentler smile surface. “How about I put on a pot of coffee? Or tea, if you’d rather. Something you can take with you on the way. Have you eaten?”

Despite the way it pained her to admit at times, Grant was right. He knew her well enough to know what to say when she needed to hear it, and the vast majority of the time he'd always treated her with nothing short of care and respect. He didn't deserve the snipe that had just come from her mouth, much less the not so subtle tone behind it. Not only that, but he was already sweet talking her to soothe some of the resentment she currently seemed to be harboring for whatever reason. How could she possibly stay upset with a man like that?

"I'm sorry," Scarlett sighed, glancing at his reflection in the mirror. While it certainly wasn't a word often used in her vocabulary, the brunette had no trouble using it with those who mattered most. She was able to realize when she was in the wrong, as rare as it might have been, and the last thing she wanted right then was for the two of them to part ways with any negativity lingering between them. It'd happened far too often with her parents, and history certainly wasn't going to repeat itself if their daughter could help it.