I just...

Carson smirks at Misty toying with him as though she were going to leave, and he straightens up, ready to say something back, but she turns to him first.

Receiving her warm embrace, Carson braces one hand on the counter, while he slides his other arm around her, a smile on his face. It felt good to have Misty back in his life... she had been one of the missing puzzle pieces. Looking her in the eye as she draws back, he studies her gaze, wondering what might be going through her mind.

As she takes him closer for a kiss, his hand slips on the counter, bringing him in for a bit harsher of an exchange than intended. "Mhh," came his grunt of complaint, though he regained posture and let the kiss linger for a moment or two.

Drawing back, he takes his arm from around her to lay his palm against her face. "We better go before they throw us out," he teases. "Let me grab my jacket."


Scott doesn't like having to wait, and is tempted to turn around and walk out, but something keeps him there. Instead, he sits on the edge of a chair, enveloping himself in his own little world until he has to stand again.

Meeting Hope, his eyes study her for just a moment. She wasn't what he'd expected. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but she seemed so... young? No, that wasn't quite it. He didn't know what it was that surprised him, but it passed quickly.

Hesitantly returning her handshake, he doesn't want to be put at ease. He doesn't want to be here, and doesn't really have the desire to continue here. But her hand was so warm and inviting, even he found it hard to resist following her.

Stepping in through the door, Scott bristles, not liking being that far from an exit. He didn't know this building, and that made it all the more worse. Noting that Hope opened the windows, he eyes her curiously. Could she read him that well that quickly, or had she simply been informed about him through Rick?

Still silent, Scott glances around the room, taking note of the paintings on the wall. Something about them seemed familiar. For a moment, he's lost in thought, trying to figure it out.

Hope's voice snaps him back to attention, almost making him jump, even though her tone was a soothing one. It takes a second for it to register what she'd just said, and he contemplates his options. With his hands still stuffed in his hoodie pockets, he picks the choice that could get him out of here faster than the others. "I'll stand," he replies quietly.

Wandering a little closer to her desk, he sees a framed photo that catches him by surprise, and he squints to make sure he was seeing what he thought. Feeling a little bolder than normal, he reaches out to run a finger over the glass that protected the memory of Mick and Rosetta's wedding. An ever-so-slight smile moves the edge of his mouth. Though confused about how Hope was connected to the Henson's, he lets his curiosity go for now. It was a small world - who knew how she knew them.

Putting his hand back into his pocket, he gives a little nod. "Nice picture," he comments a little wryly. He wondered where the rest of his photography had ended up at. Probably much of it had been thrown away after his assumed-death.

Backing away a couple steps, he lets his eyes continue roaming the room even though Hope is speaking to him. It takes him several long moments before finally he sighs and lets his gaze find hers. How must he look to her? What must she think of his physical appearance? And what exactly had Rick told her?

"I'm here because I'm out of my mind half the time." Scott gives a defeated shrug. "Because my friends are worried I'm gonna kill myself, and because I can't...can't seem to handle anything anymore."

He finally drops his gaze and wanders over to one of the windows. "Living is more frightening than death," he muses, almost to himself. The sun was shining warm, but he felt cold.

Turning around, his expression pleads with Hope as the emotions pool behind his eyes. "I don't want to be here. I didn't want to come. I..." He swallows hard, trying to figure out if he felt like crying or not, and if he did, how to stop it. "I just wanted to go home. I just wanted to be normal again."

He turns back around, taking a hand to rest his palm against the cool glass. His hand was so thin. "I just want it all to end."