Felicity: *wears red to her date with Laurel*

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“There’s a part of you that’s curious about me,” Laurel says. “Isn’t there, Felicity?”

She swears she can smell Laurel’s breath through the glass, a mix of peppermint gum and diet soda. No. No. That’s what her Laurel’s breath was like, always faintly sweet and cloying. This is not her Laurel. “I’m not interested in you.”

“Then why are you looking at me like that, Felicity?” she says, teasing. “What do you want from me?”

“This is just my face,” Felicity says. “I’m not looking at you. I’m not-“

“Do you want to ask me something?” Laurel asks. “Do you want to take me apart?”

“No!” Felicity insists. “I want you to- I want you gone. I want you out of this city and my life and somewhere I don’t have to look at you.”

“Oh,” Laurel says. “Oh, Felicity. Why didn’t you just say so?”

Felicity stares at her lips. “Say what?”

“If you want me to go home so badly,” Laurel says. “Send me home. We can make a deal, too. Just between us girls.”

Felicity curls her lip, letting out a noise of distrust. “There’s nothing I want from you.”

“Nothing?” Laurel asks, and the tone of it makes goosebumps dot the backs of Felicity’s arms.

“Nothing,” Felicity says.”

“But Felicity,” Laurel says, jutting out her lower lip. “I’ll do the one thing you want. Bad things. Things Ollie wouldn’t do.”

Felicity draws her fingers to her throat, the touch of her nails to her pulse. It’s a net, it’s a trap, it’s quicksand and she feels herself sinking. “Like what?”