By design, breakfast was meant to be a meal enjoyed in peace; the first moment of the day given a true purpose. For Scarlett, it afforded that rare instance that she didn't have a million thoughts buzzing in her head, and even her Miasmatic Mistress was quiet.

Perhaps, that's why the scene she found herself in rang so dreadfully of a highschool lunchroom with designed cliques of the jocks, preps, goths, and geeks  and not the professional lunchroom of a business in the business of saving the world from magical threats and the like.

On any other day, she wouldn't have given enough fucks to the gossip; after all, what is idle prattle for, if not the establishment of the Mean Girls?

Unfortunately, this was not one of those days...

Scarlett was sick; her body was still rejecting what it couldn't take care of. Her DNA and the Makara DNA were dramatically spaced apart, and she was struggling to take care of it over herself. As such, she was operating on a microscopically short fuse, which had blown listening to the Mean Girls gossiping over the mission. Sure, she knew that it would be a topic of conversation, once Lapis hooked up with her clique...

...didn't mean she had the patience for it.

Standing, Scarlett held an iron pot that she created under the table; a gash on her left wrist kitting closed. Almost phantom-like, Scarlett swooshed over to the table that hosted the Mean Girls and some unimportant Belua adorned in gaudy jewels and attire. Speaking no words, she poured a nose-crushingly putrid mixture of bodily waste into the existing bowls, before she puked her breakfast into the pot - slamming it down onto the table.

"[color=00ccff]I overheard you talking shit, so I thought you were hungry,[/color]" Scarlett says, before wiping her lips. "[color=00ccff]Please, enjoy. It's hot and fresh,[/color]" she offered with a sickening politeness, like a mother offering her home cooking to strangers, as she said, "[color=00ccff]and made with love.[/color]"

Before anyone at the table could muster anything to strike back with, Scarlett turned and shuffled off. She needed to find Elaine, and get some antibiotics to bolster her system to help fight off this infection. As she passed her table, she transformed her arms into a spear, and harpooned an apple; looking back, she crunched into it with a wink that one could swear made a [i]*~ding!*[/i] sound just to exemplify the signature of an asshole.