#uhoh.

The young girl, Poppy (Tracey remembered her name, she was really sweet), picked up two small logs of burnt wood and handed it to the old lady, who nodded appreciatively. She looked up at the rest of the group, “it's best not to split up, so Tarquin and Tracey, will you go to the kitchens and please get Esmeralda a glass of water?”

Tarquin nodded, and Tracey was eager to spend some alone time with him. “Lead the way,” she winked at him.

[WAYNE MANOR KITCHEN - 18:37]

“I'm married,” Tarquin shifted his feet as he filled the glass up halfway.

“And?” Tracey leaned back on the counter, “so am I.”

“What?” Tarquin looked at her, disgust plain on his face, he shook his head, “no, I'm not- people are dying, Tracey. And you're.. wanting to have sex with me?”

Tracey stood up straight, “fine. Let's go give the water to Old Lady.. whatever her name is.”

“Margaery,” Tarquin sighed and pinched the bridge his nose, “her name is Margaery.”

[WAYNE MANOR DRAWING ROOM - 18:43]

The two walked into the room, and Tracey immediately noticed that somebody was missing - the young, skinny farmhand. There was a pile of black dust on the coffee table.

Tarquin had noticed, too, apparently, “where's Derek?”

The small Scot from the past answered him, “he was getting overwhelmed, he's just in the other room,” he pointed to a door that Tracey hadn't been through yet.

Tarquin gave the glass to Margaery, who gratefully took it in one hand, and pinched the dust in the other. She sprinkled it into the water, and swirled it so it mixed. She repeated the process a few times.

She then reached towards the poisoned woman, who was now asleep on the sofa. The short haired woman clutched her hand.

“Wait, M, hang on,” the old man stopped her, “how do we know that the remedy will work on her?”

Margaery tilted her head, a silent urge for him to continue.

“Well, what if it has other effects, because of her.. condition.”

“Condition?” The short haired woman echoed.

“What if, instead of helping her, it just kills her faster. And, even if it does work, she will still be suffering. She won't wake up immediately, and we'll have to give her the remedy every few hours. All she'll become is a burden on us, she'll stop us from escaping.”

This made the short haired girl furious, “what? No, the cure will work, it has to. And I don't know why you think it will ‘kill her faster’, as you put it, but we have to try.”

Margaery sighed, “Why don't we vote on it?”

“Vote on somebody's life?” The short haired girl was mad.

“What other choice do we have, Amanda?” Margaery looked apologetic, “and I wouldn't really say that we're voting on Esmeralda’s ‘life’, per se, she hasn't had one of those in a long time.” She shook her head, “hands up, who wants to save her?”

Margaery and Amanda both raised their hands. As did the little European man, and Tarquin.

“And who doesn't want to give her the antidote?”

The old man raised his hand, alongside the Scot from a different time and the insane old lady. Poppy hesitantly lifted hers, guilt written all over her facial expression.

“Tracey?” Margaery looked at her, “you didn't vote, and it's a tie. You need to choose.”

*your answer WILL have huge effects the story, the answer with the most votes will be chosen.*