" i need you to do something for me. " there's a sketchbook shoved into charlie's hands before she has a chance to respond. one she might've seen odile using before, although it's not her everyday one. if charlie were to look inside ( and odile's trusting she won't ), she'd see a number of sketches of rothbart, a portrait of circe, even a reproduction of a photo of odile and her sister from a few years before she died.
most of it, though? various pictures of vox and lucifer from the last year. sometimes odile is included; most of the time she's not. a lot of care has evidently gone into all of them, filling up almost all of the remaining pages.
for obvious reasons, odile really doesn't want to have it around right now. she also knows her art has a tendency to become collateral damage when she's, uh. kind of like she is right now.
" hold onto this. " she really hopes charlie's not going to make her say please, but god help her, she will if she has to.
Of course she remembered the sketchbook. It played two roles for Odile- stim toy and grounding technique. Charlie knew better than to pry, especially about something so personal- but if Odile needed her help? So be it.
She knew what it meant when someone wanted her to hide something. She wasn't supposed to ask questions, she just did what they needed- because her friends deserved support without caveats.
Without a moment of hesitation, Charlie moved to her desk and took out a small key. It's inserted into a lock on the upper left drawer, which is full of a few things- a few pocket knives, some other journals, a gun case with a lock of its own.
"I'm the only one with a key to this drawer. As soon as you want it back, let me know. No questions, no assumptions. I promise."